964 JAC vol.53 no.6 © The British Society for Antimicrobial Chemotherapy 2004; all rights reserved.
GW, genome walking; Seq, sequencing; Clon, cloning; CN, copy number; PE, primer extension. aSequence of the primer, 5′-3′.
ical cost such as reduced growth rate or virulence. Morosini et al.16 addressed this question by mobilizing plasmids which contained the cloned chromosomal ampC and ampR together or the ampC alone from Enterobacter cloacae into Salmonella typhimurium. They reported that acquisition of a plasmid expressing ampC alone by Salmonella was associated with a biological cost indicated by reduced growth rate in laboratory medium and reduced capacity to invade mammalian cells. Furthermore, the authors reported that simultaneous acquisition of ampC–ampR was a requirement for keeping ampC expression at low constitutive levels, which allowed Salmonella to overcome the deleterious effect of high-level ampC expression. Our laboratory recently described S. typhimurium strain 100, isolated from a patient with gastroenteritis that produced three different β-lactamases, OXA-30, SHV-9 and CMY-7.17 CMY-7 belongs to a family of plasmid-encoded AmpC enzymes and is 93% similar to the chromosomally encoded AmpC β-lactamase of C. freundii. In this study, we investigated the influence of blaCMY-7 expression on growth and virulence of S. typhimurium strain 100.
Polymerase chain reaction (PCR) and DNA sequencing DNA template was prepared from S. typhimurium strains and PCR was carried out as previously described.17 Primers used in this study are listed in Table 1. PCR products were sequenced directly after treating with ExoSap (USB, Columbus, OH, USA) to remove unwanted nucleotides and primers. PCR amplicons used as sequence templates were generated at least twice, on separate occasions. Sequencing was carried out by automated PCR cycle-sequencing with dye-terminator chemistry using a DNA stretch sequencer from Applied Biosystems (Foster City, CA, USA). Sequence analyses were carried out online using the BLAST program (www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov).
Plasmid analysis and plasmid copy number determination Plasmid profiles were determined as previously described.17 The relative copy number of pCMY-7 was determined by a PCR-based methodology using primers CMY71F and CMY71R (Table 1) as previously described.20 Primers SalAmpDF1 and SalAmpDR1 (Table 1) were used for amplification of ampD of S. typhimurium strain 100, which was used as a single copy gene reference for copy number determination.
Genome Walker (Clontech, Palo Alto, CA, USA), a PCR-based methodology that permits amplification of unknown DNA sequence adjacent to known sequence was used to amplify the upstream region of the gene. Gene specific primers CMY7GSP1 and CMY7GSP2 (Table 1) were used in addition to adapters supplied by the manufacturer to generate a Genome Walker library. An upstream fragment of 524 bp was generated and sequenced with primers CMYUPF1 and CMYGSP1.
S. typhimurium strain 100 has been previously described.17 C. freundii 21 is a clinical isolate which has an inducible chromosomal ampC, whereas C. freundii 21 M is a derepressed (clinically non-inducible) mutant derived from C. freundii 21.18 S. typhimurium strain LT2 was a gift from Dr Diana Jones (University of Wisconsin–Madison). Sodium azide-resistant Escherichia coli J53AzR was kindly supplied by Dr George Jacoby (Lahey Clinic, Burlington, MA, USA). pCMY-7 designates the plasmid within S. typhimurium 100 which encodes blaCMY-7. pAH1 designates the plasmid encoding the blaCMY-7 structural gene and 496 bp of the upstream region cloned into a high-copy number (>100 copies per cell) cloning vector, pCR-TOPO-XL, a pUC 19 derived vector (Invitrogen, Carlsbad, CA, USA).19 S. typhimurium LT2:pCMY-7 is the Salmonella transconjugant harbouring pCMY-7 and LT2:pAH1 designates the Salmonella LT2 transformant harbouring pAH1.
Figure 1. Upstream region of blaCMY-7. The DNA sequence was generated using Genome Walker methodology. (a) Sequence of the upstream region. (b) Schematic representation of arrangement of genes. I) Sequence similar to traA of plasmid R64 (nucleotides 33–290). II) Partial sequence of IS element ISEcp1 containing promoter elements used by blaCMY-7 (nucleotides 291–407). III) Promoter region of ampC of C. freundii and partial AmpR binding site (nucleotides 408–524). The –10 (CACACT) and –35 (TTGTCA) promoter elements of C. freundii chromosomal ampC and those located in the IS element, ISEcp1 (–10, TACAAT; –35, TTGAAA) are indicated with bold and underlined letters. The partial AmpR binding site is underlined. The transcriptional start sites of blaCMY-7 and chromosomal ampC of C. freundii are indicated by bold and underlined letters, A and T, respectively, in (a) and by arrowheads in (b).
phosphor (Eastman Kodak Co., Rochester, NY, USA) for 2 days. Quantification of bands was carried out using ImageQuant software (Molecular Dynamics Inc., Sunnyvale, CA, USA).
culture were removed hourly for measurement of cell density (i.e. the OD600) and determination of viable counts.
Antibiotic susceptibility testing Conjugation experiments Conjugation experiments were carried out by a liquid mating procedure.21 Initially, S. typhimurium 100 plasmids were transferred to the sodium azide-resistant E. coli, J53AzR, with Luria–Bertani (LB) agar containing 150 mg/L sodium azide (Sigma, St Louis, MO, USA) and 50 mg/L ampicillin (Sigma) as the selection medium. The plasmid containing blaCMY-7 was then conjugated from the azide-resistant E. coli J53AzR to S. typhimurium strain LT2 and the transconjugant was designated LT2:pCMY-7. Chromagar Salmonella (Chromagar, Paris, France) was used to differentiate between E. coli (blue) and Salmonella (pink) colonies. The transconjugants were screened for the presence of blaCMY-7 by PCR using primers CMY25F1 and CMY2DR1 (Table 1) as described above following each mobilization step.
Cloning of blaCMY-7 and the upstream region The blaCMY-7 and 493 bp upstream region was amplified by PCR as described above using primers CMYUPF1 and CMY2DR1 (Table 1). The PCR product was purified using a SNAP column, ligated into pCRTOPO-XL cloning vector and transformed into E. coli Top10 competent cells (Invitrogen). The resulting plasmid (pAH1) was isolated and the sequence of the PCR-generated insert was verified using primers CMYUPF1, CMY25F1, CMY7GSP2 and CMY2DR1 (Table 1.) Transformation was carried out by electroporation using a Bio-Rad gene pulser (set at 2.5 kV, 25 µF and 400 ohms) and S. typhimurium LT2 as the recipient. Transformants were selected by plating on LB agar plates containing 50 mg/L ampicillin (Sigma).
Disc induction assay Disc induction assays were carried out as previously described23 using cefoxitin (30 µg) and cefotaxime (30 µg) placed 13 mm apart on Mueller– Hinton agar plates.
Invasion assay In vitro invasion assays using mammalian gastric carcinoma tissue culture cells (ATCC CRL/1739) were carried out with a multiplicity of infection (MOI) of 20 as previously described.24 The invaded bacteria were released by lysing the mammalian cells with 1×PBS–0.1% Triton X-100, and the number of intracellular bacteria (cfu) was determined by plating on LB agar plates containing 50 mg/L ampicillin (Sigma).
Nucleotide accession number The GenBank accession number for blaCMY-7 and associated upstream sequences is AY324388.
Figure 2. (a) Primer extension analysis of bla CMY-7 expression. The blaCMY-7 transcript and C. freundii chromosomal ampC transcripts were mapped using 20 µg of total RNA and primers CMYPE and CMY2PE, respectively. The 16S rRNA-specific extension product was obtained using 1 µg of total RNA and primer B (Table 1). C. freundii chromosomal ampC specific extended product of both wild-type (C. freundii 21) and derepressed mutant isolate (C. freundii 21 M), blaCMY-7 and 16S rRNA are indicated by the arrows. The sequencing ladder was generated from the blaCMY-2 sequence. (b) Bar graph representing blaCMY-7 expression relative to C. freundii chromosomal ampC expression. Each value represents the mean of two experiments. Error bars represent the standard deviations.
of the AmpR binding region were present, suggesting an incomplete AmpR binding site.
fore, the level of blaCMY-7 expression in S. typhimurium strain 100 was compared with the expression of the chromosomal ampC of C. freundii strain 21 and C. freundii 21 M, a derepressed mutant, by primer extension analysis. The expression of the blaCMY-7 transcript in S. typhimurium strain 100 was ∼965-fold higher than C. freundii strain 21 and ∼4.1-fold higher than C. freundii 21 M. The expression data were normalized using 16S rRNA from the same RNA preparations.
Figure 3. (a) Representative growth curves of S. typhimurium strain 100, LT2, LT2:pCMY-7 and LT2:pAH1. Growth was monitored spectrophotometrically by measuring optical density (OD) at 600 nm. (b) Viable counts of bacteria at different time points of growth. The standard deviations were less than 11%.
Figure 4. Invasion potential of S. typhimurium strain 100, LT2, LT2:pCMY-7 and LT2:pAH1. The invasion potential is defined as the percentage of bacterial inoculum which invaded the cells. The strains were compared by setting the invasion potential of S. typhimurium strain 100 at 100%. The data represent the results of two independent experiments done in triplicate. Error bars represent standard deviations.
100 inoculum invaded the mammalian cells as revealed by in vitro invasion assays. Figure 4 demonstrates the invasion potential of the S. typhimurium strains LT2, LT2:pCMY-7 and LT2:pAH1 compared to the invasion potential of S. typhimurium strain 100 which was set at 100%. In comparison to S. typhimurium strain 100, the invasion potentials of LT2:pCMY-7, LT2:pAH1 and LT2 and were 31.3%, 6.7% and 11.2%, respectively (Figure 4).
ampC expression and biological cost in Salmonella 100 suggesting that plasmid copy number played a minimal role in overall expression of blaCMY-7. High-level ampC expression in the clinical isolate S. typhimurium strain 100 did not correlate with a decrease in invasion potential or growth rate compared to LT2 or LT2:pCMY-7. The invasion potential (8.3%) observed for the S. typhimurium strain 100 was comparable to those reported for other Salmonella isolates (12.3%;16 14.5%35). However, invasion potential can vary with the strain of Salmonella and type of mammalian cells used.16,35 The ∼3-fold increase in invasion potential of LT2:pCMY-7 in comparison to LT2 was an interesting observation. Invasion of mammalian cells by Salmonella is a complex process that involves coordinated function of a number of gene products. Most of the invasion genes are clustered together in a region of the chromosome described as Salmonella pathogenicity island 1. It has been observed that certain genes present on a high molecular weight plasmid can also play an important role.36,37 The increase in invasion potential of the transconjugant LT2:pCMY-7 in comparison to LT2 suggests that the large plasmid which was transferred may encode invasion associated gene(s) in addition to blaCMY-7. A lower growth rate and invasion potential was observed for the transformant, LT2:pAH1. These data support the observation by Morosini et al.16 that high-level ampC expression can affect the invasion and growth rate for Salmonella. However, taken together, these data indicate that high-level production of AmpC β-lactamases in clinical isolates of Salmonella can be compensated in the organisms by mechanisms other than the repression of ampC expression. Salmonella enteritis is a self-limiting disease and antibiotics are usually not prescribed to treat the infection.38 However, the incidence of multidrug-resistant S. typhimurium is on the rise39,40 and Salmonella infections may be a cause for concern especially in children and individuals with compromised immune function.38,41 Therefore, when a virulent pathogen such as Salmonella becomes multidrug-resistant, it poses a greater therapeutic challenge. The ability of S. typhimurium to maintain virulence in the presence of high-level ampC expression demonstrates the versatility of this virulent pathogen and the need for vigilant surveillance of these types of resistance mechanisms in Salmonella spp.
Acknowledgements We thank Dr Archana Chattergy and Taharat Yasmin of the Departments of Pediatrics and Pharmacy at Creighton University School of Medicine for providing the mammalian cells and the cell culture facility.
References 1. Thomson, K. S. & Smith Moland, E. (2000). Version 2000: the new β-lactamases of Gram-negative bacteria at the dawn of the new millennium. Microbes and Infection 2, 1225–35. 2. Bauernfeind, A., Stemplinger, I., Jungwirth, R. et al. (1996). Comparative characterization of the cephamycinase blaCMY-1 gene and its relationship with other β-lactamase genes. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 40, 1926–30. 3. Barlow, M. & Hall, B. G. (2002). Origin and evolution of the AmpC β-lactamases of Citrobacter freundii. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 46, 1190–8. 4. Hanson, N. D. & Sanders, C. C. (1999). Regulation of inducible AmpC β-lactamase expression among Enterobacteriaceae. Current Pharmaceutical Design 5, 881–94.
5. Reisbig, M. D. & Hanson, N. D. (2002). The ACT-1 plasmidencoded AmpC β-lactamase is inducible: detection in a complex β-lactamase background. Journal of Antimicrobial Chemotherapy 49, 557–60. 6. Barnaud, G., Arlet, G., Verdet, C. et al. (1998). Salmonella enteritidis: AmpC plasmid-mediated inducible β-lactamase (DHA-1) with an ampR gene from Morganella morganii. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 42, 2352–8. 7. Fortineau, N., Poirel, L. & Nordmann, P. (2001). Plasmid-mediated and inducible cephalosporinase DHA-2 from Klebsiella pneumoniae. Journal of Antimicrobial Chemotherapy 47, 207–10. 8. Bryan, J. E. (1979). Salmonella infections. In Food-Borne Infections and Intoxications (Riemann, H. & Bryan, F. L., Eds), pp. 73–130. Academic Press, New York, NY, USA. 9. Rabsch, W., Andrews, H. L., Kingsley, R. A. et al. (2002). Salmonella enterica serotype Typhimurium and its host-adapted variants. Infection and Immunity 70, 2249–55. 10. Maurelli, A. T., Fernandez, R. E., Bloch, C. A. et al. (1998). 'Black holes' and bacterial pathogenicity: a large genomic deletion that enhances the virulence of Shigella spp. and enteroinvasive Escherichia coli. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences—USA 95, 3943–8. 11. Hacker, J., Blum-Oehler, G., Muhldorfer, I. et al. (1997). Pathogenicity islands of virulent bacteria: structure, function and impact on microbial evolution. Molecular Microbiology 23, 1089–97. 12. Andersson, D. I. & Levin, B. R. (1999). The biological cost of antibiotic resistance. Current Opinion in Microbiology 2, 489–93. 13. Spratt, B. G. (1996). Antibiotic resistance: counting the cost. Current Biology 6, 1219–21. 14. Medeiros, A. A. (1997). Evolution and dissemination of β-lactamases accelerated by generations of β-lactam antibiotics. Clinical Infectious Diseases 24, S19–45. 15. Philippon, A., Arlet, G. & Jacoby, G. A. (2002). Plasmid-determined AmpC-type β-lactamases. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 46, 1–11. 16. Morosini, M. I., Ayala, J. A., Baquero, F. et al. (2000). Biological cost of AmpC production for Salmonella enterica serotype Typhimurium. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 44, 3137–43. 17. Hanson, N. D., Moland, E. S., Hossain, A. et al. (2002). Unusual Salmonella enterica serotype Typhimurium isolate producing CMY-7, SHV-9 and OXA-30 β-lactamases. Journal of Antimicrobial Chemotherapy 49, 1011–4. 18. Sanders, C. C. & Sanders, W. E., Jr (1979). Emergence of resistance to cefamandole: possible role of cefoxitin-inducible β-lactamases. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 15, 792–7. 19. Yanisch-Perron, C., Vieira, J. & Messing, J. (1985). Improved M13 phage cloning vectors and host strains: nucleotide sequences of the M13mp18 and pUC19 vectors. Gene 33, 103–19. 20. Reisbig, M. D., Hossain, A. & Hanson, N. D. (2003). Factors influencing gene expression and resistance for Gram-negative organisms expressing plasmid-encoded ampC genes of Enterobacter origin. Journal of Antimicrobial Chemotherapy 51, 1141–51. 21. Willets, N. (1984). Conjugation. In Methods in Microbiology, vol. 17 (Bennett, P.M. & Grinsted, J., Eds), pp. 33–59. Academic Press, London, UK. 22. National Committee for Clinical Laboratory Standards. (1997). Methods for Dilution Antimicrobial Susceptibility Tests for Bacteria that Grow Aerobically: Approved Standard M7-A4. NCCLS, Villanova, PA, USA. 23. Sanders, C. C. & Sanders, W. E. (1986). Type I β-lactamases of gram-negative bacteria: interactions with β-lactam antibiotics. Journal of Infectious Diseases 154, 792–800. 24. Isberg, R. R. & Falkow, S. (1985). A single genetic locus encoded by Yersinia pseudotuberculosis permits invasion of cultured animal cells by Escherichia coli K-12. Nature 317, 262–4. 25. Kim, S. R., Funayama, N. & Komano, T. (1993). Nucleotide sequence and characterization of the traABCD region of IncI1 plasmid R64. Journal of Bacteriology 175, 5035–42.
A. Hossain et al. 26. Schrag, S. J. & Perrot, V. (1996). Reducing antibiotic resistance. Nature 381, 120–1. 27. Bjorkman, J., Nagaev, I., Berg, O. G. et al. (2000). Effects of environment on compensatory mutations to ameliorate costs of antibiotic resistance. Science 287, 1479–82. 28. Fosberry, A. P., Payne, D. J., Lawlor, E. J. et al. (1994). Cloning and sequence analysis of blaBIL-1, a plasmid-mediated class C β-lactamase gene in Escherichia coli BS. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 38, 1182–5. 29. Jacoby, G. A. & Tran, J. (1999). Sequence of the MIR-1 β-lactamase gene. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 43, 1759–60. 30. Lindberg, F., Westman, L. & Normark, S. (1985). Regulatory components in Citrobacter freundii ampC β-lactamase induction. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences—USA, 82, 4620–4. 31. Poirel, L., Guibert, M., Girlich, D. et al. (1999). Cloning, sequence analyses, expression, and distribution of ampC–ampR from Morganella morganii clinical isolates. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 43, 769–76. 32. Cao, V., Lambert, T. & Courvalin, P. (2002). ColE1-like plasmid pIP843 of Klebsiella pneumoniae encoding extended-spectrum β-lactamase CTX-M-17. Antimicrobial Agents and Chemotherapy 46, 1212–7. 33. Karim, A., Poirel, L., Nagarajan, S. et al. (2001). Plasmid-mediated extended-spectrum β-lactamase (CTX-M-3 like) from India and gene association with insertion sequence ISEcp1. FEMS Microbiology Letters 201, 237–41.
34. Saladin, M., Cao, V. T., Lambert, T. et al. (2002). Diversity of CTX-M β-lactamases and their promoter regions from Enterobacteriaceae isolated in three Parisian hospitals. FEMS Microbiology Letters 209, 161–8. 35. Baker, S. J., Gunn, J. S. & Morona, R. (1999). The Salmonella typhi melittin resistance gene pqaB affects intracellular growth in PMAdifferentiated U937 cells, polymyxin B resistance and lipopolysaccharide. Microbiology 145, 367–78. 36. Rotger, R. & Casadesus, J. (1999). The virulence plasmids of Salmonella. International Microbiology 2, 177–84. 37. Boyd, E. F. & Hartl, D. L. (1998). Salmonella virulence plasmid. Modular acquisition of the spv virulence region by an F-plasmid in Salmonella enterica subspecies I and insertion into the chromosome of subspecies II, IIIa, IV and VII isolates. Genetics 149, 1183–90. 38. Graham, S. M. (2002). Salmonellosis in children in developing and developed countries and populations. Current Opinion in Infectious Diseases 15, 507–12. 39. Guerra, B., Laconcha, I., Soto, S. M. et al. (2000). Molecular characterisation of emergent multiresistant Salmonella enterica serotype [4,5,12:i:-] organisms causing human salmonellosis. FEMS Microbiology Letters 190, 341–7. 40. Glynn, M. K., Bopp, C., Dewitt, W. et al. (1998). Emergence of multidrug-resistant Salmonella enterica serotype typhimurium DT104 infections in the United States. New England Journal of Medicine 338, 1333–8. 41. Rosanova, M. T., Paganini, H., Bologna, R. et al. (2002). Risk factors for mortality caused by nontyphoidal Salmonella sp. in children. International Journal of Infectious Diseases 6, 187–90.
Report "Plasmid-encoded functions compensate for the biological cost of AmpC overexpression in a clinical isolate of Salmonella typhimurium"


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Stratocles forcipatus is een insect uit de orde Phasmatodea en de familie Pseudophasmatidae. De wetenschappelijke naam van deze soort is voor het eerst geldig gepubliceerd in 1896 door Bolívar.

Pseudophasmatidae

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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Q: Trapped in ecommerce hell. How to migrate cart from Plexum? I host Plexum software on my own server.  There is no csv export in the admin side of the shopping cart software.
I'd like to move to Bigcommerce.  Is there any way this can be done being that I have server access to the database and files?

A: Lol, oh being trapped in eCommerce hell, it's a scary place; only a few have made it out uncorrupted.
To answer your question, yes if you have access to the database then you should (assumingly)(is that a word? you get my point though) have access to all of the required data you need to migrate. Since you have access to the database, you can actually export the database as a CSV and work with it from there - there are plenty of resources on how to do this.
Or, you can create a program that loads the data from your database and imports it into BigCommerce via its web API. If this sounds foreign to you, it might be best to contact a professional.
If you ask a more specific question, you'll receive a more specific answer.
Until then, best of luck on your journey back to the surface.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


While acute Chagas disease may cause a mild fever, rash or nausea, chronic Chagas can cause serious cardiovascular and digestive conditions unless treated immediately. To schedule a consultation with a healthcare practitioner in Cambridge who specializes in Chagas disease treatment, call (740) 439-3515 or contact Dr. Stephen Durant online.
Chagas disease can cause serious health problems if not properly treated. If you are experiencing a Chagas disease rash or other symptoms of Chagas disease, schedule an appointment with a practitioner in Cambridge by calling (740) 439-3515 or contact Dr. Stephen Durant online.


Jean-Paul Sartre (1905 -1980) was France's most important philosopher for much of the twentieth-century as well as an important novelist and playwright. Sartre is classified as an existentialist. This means at least three things. Sartre is interested in: 1) the uniqueness of an individual life, not abstract theories about a shared human nature; 2) the meaning of life from a subjective point of view; and 3) the freedom to choose one's projects, meanings, and values. To better grasp existentialism, here is a very brief sketch of some of a few of the philosophers who influenced Sartre.
The Danish Christian Soren Kierkegaard (1813 – 1855) is usually thought of as the first existentialist, although there is an existential dimension in many previous Christian thinkers especially Augustine and Pascal. Like Marx, Kierkegaard reacted to Hegel's philosophy, rejecting its abstruse metaphysics and focusing instead on individuals and their choices. Kierkegaard believed people generally choose one of the following as their basic attitude toward life: 1) they searched for pleasure; 2) committed to family, work, and social responsibility; or 3) concentrated on religion and the divine. The latter life is the best but it involves taking a "leap of faith." [Kierkegaard writes of his agony about choices and their implications as passionately as anyone.] What is most important about Kierkegaard's thought for existentialism is its turning away from objective truth to focus on subjective consciousness.
Metaphysics: Consciousness and Objects, Atheism – Sartre distinguishes human consciousness and inanimate non-consciousness. This is not a distinction between two different substances, it is not a mind/body dualism, but between "two modes of being." One is the way conscious beings exist—being for itself—the other the way non-conscious things exist—being in itself. Consciousness is always about something, including sometimes itself, whereas inanimate things are not conscious. [He's trying to get at what it is to be, to be conscious, to be human.] The other main foundation of Sartre's thought is his thoroughgoing atheism. He assumed that there are no transcendent values, and no intrinsic meaning or purpose for our lives. Life is absurd, we are forlorn. We have to grow up and choose our own values and projects. The meaning of life isn't something discovered, but something we create. We must give our lives meaning.
Sartre rejects Freud's psychic determinism as well as the idea of the unconscious. Sartre believes we choose our mental states like emotions. This may be true sometimes but other emotions, like concern and care, seem to be very much a part of our nature. He also thought that character traits are choices. I am not shy, I choose to be shy. While this may be partly true we now know enough about biology to know that it's not the whole truth. Still, Sartre thinks that our radical freedom is evident when we make resolutions. I say I won't eat cookies starting Monday, but when Monday rolls around and I'm confronted with cookies—I face my freedom because my past resolution doesn't constrain me. Confronting choices leads to angst or anguish. We don't know what we will do or what to do. We can jump off a bridge, and we could throw our child off a bridge too. When we confront our freedom it brings anxiety.
Diagnosis: Anguish and Bad Faith, Conflict with Others – Freedom brings anxiety which we try to avoid by denying our freedom. But we cannot escape freedom, we must choose, we are condemned to be free. [Think about the anxiety of choice. What job should I do? Who should I marry? Where should I live? What should I believe?] A way out of choice is to imagine we must believe this or do that, to act in bad faith in Sartre's language. This is a kind of self-deception where we imagine that our thoughts and actions are determined when they are up to us. [You could be an ax murderer or join the Peace Corps. You could be an atheist or a join a religious order. You could do or think whatever you want.] In Sartre's famous examples a woman acts in bad faith when she doesn't recognize her freedom to resist a man's advances; and the waiter acts in bad faith when he assumes, if he does, that he must act like a waiter. The woman is not an object to be seduced and the man is not essentially a waiter. Actions and beliefs are sustained by our choices.
Sartre rejects that bad faith could be explained by Freudian repression. Is there a censor in the mind that represses? If so it must decide what to repress and what not to, so it must be aware of what's repressed so as not to be aware of it. Bad faith then describes a whole person, not some part of their mind. But to say one is sincere or has good faith is also problematic because again, we are not essentially anything. If I act gay, shy or arrogant there is still a distinction being made between the self doing the describing and the self that is described. But we cannot be described because we are not artifacts. So I am not essentially shy, gay, or arrogant. To say so is to act in bad faith. [Sartre says you choose to be gay, shy or arrogant.] While this is all perplexing, the key and best idea in Sartre is that we can always be different from we are, which is probably a good thing to believe.
Sartre illustrates how objective values [or ethical theories] don't help us in situations where we must freely choose. In a famous story, he asks: should a man go off to fight the Nazis or stay home and care for his mother? No moral theory, intuition, or emotion tells you what to do. You must simply exercise your freedom and choose. [To say that some moral principle forces you to do one thing or another is to act in bad faith, it denies your freedom.] Sartre is partly right that no moral theory answers every moral question, but that seems different from saying you should do whatever you want.
What Sartre says we should do is act authentically. We should act recognizing that we are free to act in many different ways, and we are responsible for our actions. Today Sartre's assertion flies in the face of research about how much of our mental processes are unknown to us consciously. [Not to mention the influence of genes and environment on our behavior.] But Sartre maintains that to have self-knowledge entails understanding the reasons, not the causes, of our actions and beliefs. He also thinks that people must choose their own values and create their own meaning in life. But is authentic choice all there is to it? If so it would seem Sartre has to commend dedicated Nazis, compulsive child tortures, or sadists like Cheney, Yoo, Addington, Rumsfeld and other members of the George W. Bush administration who approved torture. Also, Sartre would have to condemn someone who does apparently good things because they believe in objective values. But does that make those things wrong? So an ethics which boils down to "just choose" is incomplete.
Authenticity and Freedom for Everyone – As Sartre's thought developed he did come to see how freedom was situated within the contexts of facts about human beings—their facticity. Our freedom is limited by our bodies and our place in history and society [none of us will ever be born to Sam Walton and inherit about 20 billion dollars!] Some have the chance to go to Harvard or Oxford and become physicians or scholars, but most do not. So Sartre backtracked a bit from his claims about our radical freedom as his thought matured. He also advocated for social change. He believed that we might change the world by becoming more godlike, by seeing ourselves as the only source of salvation and meaning in this world.
Sartre also came to believe that relationships with others could be authentic. If others see you as free, they give some meaning to your life through that recognition. He even argues there can be authentic love. [Perhaps he was experiencing the wisdom and maturity that comes with age.] Still his most basic value was freedom, but not just the freedom that conscious beings have when they choose, "but the value judgment that every person ought to be able to exercise his or her freedom in concrete ways, and thus that human society should be changed in the direction of making this a reality for everyone." To be authentic is to recognize the freedom of all people. And this obtains in a socialist, classless society where "all human beings will be able to express their freedom. Thus Sartre encourages us to use our freedom to change both ourselves and the world.


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The Revolution of the Deaf
Wednesday morning, March 9: "Strike at Gallaudet," "Deaf Strike for the Deaf," "Students Demand Deaf President"—the newspapers are full of these happenings today; they started three days ago, have been steadily building, and now are on the front page of The New York Times. It looks like an amazing story. I have been to Gallaudet College in Washington a couple of times in the past year, and have been steadily getting to know the place. Gallaudet is the only liberal arts college for the deaf in the world, and, moreover, it is the core of the world's deaf community—but, in all its 124 years, it has never had a deaf president.
I flatten out the paper and read the whole story: the students have been actively campaigning for a deaf president ever since the resignation last year of Jerry Lee, a hearing person who was president since 1984. Unrest, uncertainty, and hope have been brewing. By mid-February, the presidential search committee narrowed the search to six candidates—three hearing, three deaf. On March 1, three thousand people attended a rally at Gallaudet, to make it clear to the board of trustees that the Gallaudet community was strongly insisting on the selection of a deaf president. On March 5, the night before the election, a candlelight vigil was held outside the board's quarters. On Sunday, March 6, choosing between three finalists, one hearing, two deaf, the board chose a former dean of students at the University of South Carolina, Elisabeth Ann Zinser, the hearing candidate.
The tone, as well as the content, of its announcement caused outrage: it was here that the chairman of the board, Jane Bassett Spilman, made her comment that "the deaf are not yet ready to function in the hearing world." The next day, a thousand students marched to the hotel where the board was cloistered, then the six blocks to the White House, and on to the Capitol. The following day, March 8, the students closed the university and barricaded the campus.
Wednesday afternoon: The faculty and staff have come out in support of the students and their four demands: 1) that a new, deaf, president be named immediately; 2) that the chairman of the board, Jane Bassett Spilman, resign immediately; 3) that the board have a 51 percent majority of deaf members (at present it has seventeen hearing members and only four deaf); and 4) that there be no reprisals. At this point, I phone my friend Bob Johnson. Bob is head of the linguistics department at Gallaudet, where he has taught and done research for seven years. He has a deep knowledge of the deaf and their culture, is an excellent signer, and is married to a deaf woman. He is as close to the deaf community as a hearing person can be.1 I want to know how he feels about the events at Gallaudet. "It's the most remarkable thing I've ever seen," he says. "If you'd asked me a month ago, I'd have bet a million dollars this couldn't happen in my lifetime. You've got to come down and see this for yourself."
When I visited Gallaudet in 1986 and 1987, I found it an astonishing, and moving, experience. I had never before seen an entire community of the deaf, nor had I quite realized (even though I knew this theoretically) that sign language might indeed be a complete language—a language equally suitable for making love or speeches, for flirtation or mathematics. I had to see philosophy and chemistry classes in Sign; to see the absolutely silent mathematics department at work; I had to see deaf bards, Sign poetry, on the campus, and the range and depth of the Gallaudet theater; I had to see the wonderful social scene in the student bar, with hands flying in all directions as a hundred separate conversations proceeded—I had to see all this, see it for myself, before I could be moved from my previous "medical" view of deafness (as a "condition," a deficit, which had to be treated) to a "cultural" view of the deaf as forming a community with a complete language and culture of its own. I had felt there was something very joyful, even Arcadian. about Gallaudet—and I was not surprised to hear that some of the students were sometimes reluctant to leave its warmth and seclusion and protectiveness, the coziness of a small but complete and self-sufficient world, for the unkind and uncomprehending big world outside.
But there were also tensions and resentments under the surface, which seemed to be simmering, with no possibility of resolution. There was an unspoken tension between faculty and administration—a faculty in which all the teachers sign, and many are deaf. The faculty could communicate with the students, enter their worlds, their minds; but the administration (so I was told) formed a remote governing body, running the school like a corporation, with a certain "benevolent" caretaker attitude to the "handicapped" deaf, but little real feeling for them as a community or as a culture. It was feared by the students and teachers I talked to that the administration, if it could, would reduce still further the percentage of deaf teachers at Gallaudet, and further restrict the teachers' use of Sign there.
The students I met seemed animated, a joyous group when together, but often fearful and diffident toward the outside world. I had the feeling of some cruel undermining of self-image, even in those who professed "Deaf Pride." I had the feeling that some of them thought of themselves as children—an echo of the parental attitude of the board (and perhaps of some of the faculty). I had the feeling of a certain passivity among them, a sense that though life might be improved in small ways here and there, it was their lot to be overlooked, to be second-class citizens.
Thursday morning, March 10: A taxi deposits me on Fifth Street opposite the college. The gates have been blocked off for forty-eight hours; my first sight is of a huge, excited, but cheerful and friendly crowd of hundreds barring the entrance to the campus, carrying banners and placards, and signing to one another with great animation. One or two police cars sit parked outside, watching, their engines purring, but they seem a benign presence. There is a good deal of honking from the traffic passing by—I am puzzled by this, but then spot a sign reading HONK FOR A DEAF PRESIDENT. The crowd itself is at once strangely silent and noisy: the signing, the Sign speeches, are utterly silent; but they are punctuated by curious (to my ears and eyes) applause—an excited shaking of the hands above the head, accompanied by high-pitched vocalizations and screams. As I watch, one of the students leaps up on a pillar, and starts signing with much expressiveness and beauty. I can understand nothing of what he says, but I feel the signing is pure and impassioned—his whole body, all his feelings, seem to flow into the signing. I hear a murmured name—Tim Rarus—and realize that this is one of the student leaders, one of the Four. His audience visibly hangs on every sign, rapt, bursting at intervals into tumultuous applause.
As I watch Rarus and his audience, and then let my gaze wander past the barricades to the great campus filled with passionate Sign, with passionate soundless conversation, I get an overwhelming feeling not only of another mode of communication, but of another mode of sensibility, another mode of being—unique, precious, complete in itself. One has only to see these people—even casually, from the outside (and I felt quite as much an outsider as those who walked or drove casually by)—to feel that in their language, their mode of being, they deserve one of their own, that no one not deaf, not signing, could possibly understand them. One feels, intuitively, that interpretation can never be sufficient—that the students would be cut off from any president who was not one of them.
Innumerable banners and signs catch the brilliant March sun: DEAF PREZ NOW is clearly the basic one. There is a certain amount of anger—it could hardly be otherwise—but the anger, on the whole, is clothed in wit: thus a common sign is DR. ZINSER IS NOT READY TO FUNCTION IN THE DEAF WORLD, a retort to Spilman's malapropos statement about the deaf. Dr. Zinser's own comment on Nightline the night before ("A deaf individual, one day, will…be president of Gallaudet") provoked many signs saying WHY NOT MARCH 10, 1988, DR. ZINSER? The papers spoke of "battle" or "confrontation," which gives a sense of a negotiation, an inching to-and-fro. But the students said: " 'Negotiation'? We have forgotten the word. 'Negotiation' no longer appears in our dictionaries." Dr. Zinser kept asking for a "meaningful dialogue," but this in itself seemed a meaningless request, for there was no longer, there had never been, any intermediate ground on which "dialogue" could take place. The students were concerned with their identity, their survival, an all-or-none: they had four demands, and there was no place for "sometime" or "maybe."
Indeed Dr. Zinser is anything but popular. It is felt by many not only that she is peculiarly insensitive to the mood of the students—the glaring fact that they do not want her, that the university has been literally barricaded against her—but that she actively stands for and prosecutes an official "hard line." At first there was a certain sympathy for her: she had been duly chosen and she had no idea what she had been thrown into. But with the passing of each day this view grew less and less tenable, and the whole business began to resemble a contest of wills. Dr. Zinser's tough, "no-nonsense" stance reached a peak yesterday, when she loudly asserted that she was going to "take charge" of the unruly campus. "If it gets any further out of control," she said, "I'm going to have to take action to bring it under control." This incensed the students, who promptly burned her in effigy.
Some of the placards are nakedly furious: one says ZINSER—PUPPET OF SPILMAN, another WE DON'T NEED A WET NURSE, MOMMY SPILMAN. I begin to realize that this is the deaf's coming of age, saying at last, in a very loud voice: "We're no longer your children. We no longer want your 'care.' "2
I edge past the barricades, the speeches, the signs, and stroll onto the large and beautifully green campus, with its elegant Victorian buildings setting off a most un-Victorian scene. The campus is buzzing, silently, with conversation—everywhere there are pairs or small groups speaking. There is conversing everywhere, and I can understand none of it; I feel like the deaf, the voiceless one today—the handicapped one, the minority, in this great signing community. I see lots of faculty as well as students on the campus: one professor is making and selling lapel buttons (FRAU ZINSER, GO HOME!), which are bought and pinned on as quickly as he makes them. "Isn't this great?" he says, catching sight of me. "I haven't had such a good time since Selma. It feels a little like Selma—and the Sixties."
A great many dogs are on the campus—there must be fifty or sixty on the great greensward out front. Regulations on owning and keeping dogs here are loose; some are "hearing" dogs, but some are just—dogs. I am struck by the unusual intimacy of the deaf in their relationship with their dogs: perhaps because dogs aren't verbal, and don't discriminate. I see one girl signing to her dog; the dog, obediently, turns over, begs, gives a paw. This dog itself bears a white cloth sign on each side: I UNDERSTAND SIGN BETTER THAN SPILMAN. (The chairman of Gallaudet's board of trustees has occupied her position for seven years while learning hardly any Sign.)
Where there was a hint of something angry, tense, at the barricades, there is an atmosphere of calm and peacefulness inside the campus; more, a sense of joy, and something like festivity. There are dogs everywhere, and babies and children too, friends and little families everywhere, conversing silently in Sign. There are little colored tents on the grass, and hotdog stands selling frankfurters and soda—dogs and hotdogs: it is rather like Woodstock, much more like Woodstock than a grim revolution.
Earlier in the week, the initial reactions to Elisabeth Ann Zinser's appointment were furious—and uncoordinated; there were a thousand people on the campus, milling around, tearing up toilet paper, destructive in mood. But all at once, as Bob Johnson said, "the whole consciousness changed." Within hours there seemed to emerge a new, calm, clear consciousness and resolution; a political body, two thousand strong, with a single, focused will of its own. It is the astonishing swiftness with which this organization emerged, the sudden precipitation, from chaos, of a unanimous, communal mind, that astonished everyone who saw it. And yet, of course, this was partly an illusion, for there were all sorts of preparations—and people—behind it.
Central to this sudden "transformation"—and central, thereafter, in organizing and articulating the entire "uprising" (which was far too dignified, too beautifully modulated, to be called an "uproar")—were the four remarkable young student leaders: Greg Hlibok, the leader of the student body, and his cohorts Tim Rarus, Bridgetta Bourne, and Jerry Covell. Greg Hlibok is a young engineering student, described (by Bob Johnson) as "very engaging, laconic, direct, but in his words a great deal of thought and judgment." Hlibok's father, also deaf, runs an engineering firm, and he has two deaf brothers, one an actor, one a financial consultant. Tim Rarus, also born deaf, and from a deaf family, is a perfect foil for Greg: he has an eager spontaneity, a passion, an intensity, that nicely complement Greg's quietness. I saw, we all saw, more of these two than of the others, but all four worked closely, in absolute harmony, as beautifully coordinated as a string quartet.
The four had already been elected before the uprising—indeed while Jerry Lee was still president—but took on a very special, unprecedented role during the months that followed President Lee's resignation.
Hlibok and his fellow leaders never incited or inflamed students—on the contrary, they were always calming, restraining, and moderating in their influence, but were highly sensitive to the "feel" of the campus and, beyond this, of the deaf community at large, and felt with them that a crucial time had arrived. They started to organize the students to press for a deaf president, and to seek support from deaf leaders and communities all around the country. Thus, much calculation, much preparation, preceded the "transformation," the emergence of a communal mind. It was not an order appearing from total chaos (even though it might have seemed so). Rather, it was the sudden manifestation of a latent order, like the sudden crystallization of a super-saturated solution—a crystallization precipitated by the naming of Zinser as president on Sunday night. This was a qualitative transformation, from passivity to activity, and in the moral no less than in the political sense, it was a revolution. Suddenly the deaf were no longer passive, scattered, and powerless; suddenly they have discovered the calm strength of union.
I talk in the afternoon with a couple of deaf students. A young woman of about twenty tells me:
I'm from a hearing family…. My whole life I've felt pressures, hearing pressures on me—"You can't do it in the hearing world, you can't make it in the hearing world"—and right now all that pressure is lifted from me. I feel free, all of a sudden, full of energy now. You keep hearing "you can't, you can't," but I can now. The words "deaf and dumb" will be destroyed forever; instead there'll be "deaf and able."
These were very much the terms Bob Johnson had used, when we first talked, when he spoke of the deaf as laboring under "an illusion of powerlessness," and of how, all of a sudden, this illusion had been shattered.
Many revolutions, transformations, awakenings happen as a response to immediate (and intolerable) circumstances. What is so remarkable about the Gallaudet strike of 1988 is its historical consciousness, the sense of deep historical perspective that informed it. This was evident on campus; as soon as I arrived I spotted a picket saying LAURENT CLERC WANTS DEAF PREZ. HE IS NOT HERE BUT HIS SPIRIT IS HERE. SUPPORT US. I overheard a journalist say, "Who the hell's Laurent Clerc?" But his name, and his persona, unknown to the hearing world, are known to virtually everyone in the deaf world. Clerc is a founding father, a heroic figure, in deaf history and culture. The first emancipation of the deaf—their achievement of education and literacy, of self-respect and the respect of their fellows—was largely inspired by the achievement and person of Laurent Clerc, a French writer and teacher who was himself born deaf.3
Clerc not only founded the American Asylum in Hartford in 1817, with Thomas Gallaudet, whose wife was deaf, but he introduced a sign language ("French" sign language). Clerc was, in effect, the spiritual leader of the world community of the deaf until his death fifty-two years later. It was immensely moving, then, to see the placard bearing his name, and one could not help feeling that Clerc was here, on the campus, and that he was, albeit posthumously, the authentic spirit and voice of the revolt. (Clerc did indeed visit Gallaudet College in 1867, and in a stirring speech to the students encouraged them to aspire boldly, and to feel that no academic or professional position was "above" them.)
The French sign system imported by Clerc rapidly amalgamated with the indigenous sign languages here—the deaf generate sign languages wherever they are; it is for them the easiest and most natural mode of communication—to form a uniquely expressive and powerful hybrid, American Sign Language (ASL).
Given this strong sign language, the previously despised and illiterate deaf of America now found that a full school education was open to them, as well as a new and more generous understanding by the general public; and with this, the deaf became literate, self-respecting, articulate. By 1830 a generation of deaf had arisen that could hold its own in society, in a way that could not have been imagined a dozen years earlier. (This was a recapitulation of events in France, in the previous century, when the introduction and use of Sign in education, by the Abbé de l'Epée in the 1750s, had within a generation transformed the lives, the status, of the deaf in France.)
Other residential schools for the deaf soon opened throughout the United States, all using the Sign that had evolved at Hartford. Virtually all the teachers in these schools were educated at Hartford and most had met the charismatic Clerc. They contributed their own indigenous signs and later spread an increasingly polished and generalized ASL in many parts of the country, and the standards and aspirations of the deaf continually rose. By the 1850s it had become clear that higher education was needed—the deaf, previously illiterate, now needed a college. In 1857, Thomas Gallaudet's son, Edward, only twenty-four but uniquely equipped through his background (his mother was deaf, and he learned Sign as a primary language), his sensibilities, and his gifts, was appointed principal of the Columbia Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and the Dumb and the Blind,4 conceiving and hoping from the start that it could be transformed into a college, with federal support. In 1864 this was achieved, and what was later to become Gallaudet College received its charter from Congress.
Edward Gallaudet's own full and extraordinary life5 lasted well into the present century, and spanned great (though not always admirable) changes in attitudes to the deaf and their education. In particular, gathering force from the 1860s, and promoted to a large extent in the US by Alexander Graham Bell, was an attitude that opposed the use of signing, and sought to forbid its use in schools and institutions. Gallaudet himself fought against this, but was overborne by the climate of the times, and by a certain ferocity and intransigence of mind that he was too reasonable to understand.6
By the time of Gallaudet's death, his college was world-famous and had shown once and for all that the deaf, given the opportunity and the means, could match the hearing in every sphere of academic activity—and for that matter, in athletic activity, too (the spectacular gym at Gallaudet, opened in 1880, was one of the finest in the country; and the football huddle was actually invented at Gallaudet, for players to pass secret tactics among themselves). But Gallaudet himself was one of the last defenders of Sign in an educational world that had turned its back on signing, and with his death the college lost—and because the college had become the symbol and aspiration of the deaf all over the world, the deaf world also lost—its greatest and last proponent of Sign in education.
With this, Sign, which had been the dominant language at the college before, went underground, and became confined to a colloquial use. The students continued to use it among themselves, but it was no longer considered a legitimate language for formal discourse or teaching.7 Thus the century between Thomas Gallaudet's founding of the American Asylum and Edward Gallaudet's death in 1917 saw the rise and fall, the legitimation and delegitimation, of Sign in America.
The suppression of Sign in the 1880s had a deleterious effect on the deaf for seventy-five years, not only on their education and academic achievements but on their image of themselves and on their entire community and culture. Such community and culture as did exist remained in isolated pockets—there was no longer the sense there had once been, at least the sense that was intimated in the "golden age" of the 1840s, of a nation-wide (even worldwide) community and culture.
But the last thirty years have again seen a reversal, and indeed a relegitimation and resurrection of Sign as never before; and with this, and much else, a discovery or rediscovery of the cultural aspects of deafness—a strong sense of community and communication and culture, of self-definition as a unique mode of being.
The scientific relegitimation of Sign began in the 1950s, when a young professor of English and Chaucer scholar, William Stokoe, came to Gallaudet. Stokoe thought he had come to teach Chaucer to the deaf; but he very soon perceived that he had been thrown, by good fortune or chance, into one of the world's most extraordinary linguistic environments. Sign language, at this time, was not seen as a "proper" language, sometimes not even by the demoralized deaf themselves, but as a sort of pantomime or gestural code, or perhaps a sort of broken English on the hands. It was Stokoe's genius to see, and prove, that it was nothing of the sort; that it satisfied every linguistic criterion of a genuine language, in its syntax and plenitude of operators, its (Chomskian) capacity to generate an infinite number of propositions. In 1960 Stokoe published Sign Language Structure: An Outline of the Visual Communication System of the American Deaf, and in 1965 (with Casterline and Croneborg) A Dictionary of American Sign.
Stokoe's work led to the most refined linguistic analyses of Sign, including some of the special forms, such as Art Sign, that are an essential part of deaf culture. And this in turn has led to the immensely important studies of Ursula Bellugi and her colleagues at the Salk Institute (as well as of others at Gallaudet and elsewhere), which look at the neural basis of Sign, the powers of specially enhanced visual perception and organization that have long been recognized, if only anecdotally, in the deaf. It has been established that the "language areas" of the left cerebral hemisphere, which are associated with speech, are also crucial for Sign, and that destruction of these areas of the brain can cause an inability to understand Sign—a Sign aphasia. It has also been found in those who are born deaf, and most especially those who are exposed to Sign from the start, that what would normally be auditory areas of the brain associated with hearing can be "reallocated" for purposes of visual analysis; that with constant exposure to and use of a visual language, the entire brain of the deaf person can adapt itself for a special, supervisual sensibility and organization,8 a special enhancement of visual powers that may not occur in any other situation.9
What neuroscientists have insufficiently regarded or respected, and have scarcely yet begun to explore, is the unusual quality of imagination and imagery in the deaf, particularities that the brain and mind have been taught through being exposed from the start to an exclusively visual sensibility.10 The language and culture and rich differentness of the deaf (unlike those, say, of the Welsh) have a neurological basis. It is not just culture (the culturally transmitted) that is different in the deaf, but nature, the nature of their experiences, dispositions, and thoughts. Deaf culture is reared upon deaf nature, though at this point one almost has an impulse to drop the word "deaf," and replace it with "visual," and to speak rather of an intensely visual culture emerging from a physiological enhancement of visuality.
Cognitive and behavioral studies at Gallaudet and elsewhere have indicated that this unique form of visuality may in turn predispose the deaf to specifically "visual" (or logical/spatial) forms of memory and thinking; that, given complex problems with many stages, the deaf tend to arrange these, and their hypotheses, in logical space, whereas the hearing arrange them in a temporal (or "auditory") order.11 Thus it is not only the form of language, but the form of perception and of thinking itself, that may be different in the deaf, especially those given full freedom to exploit their own way of being. This is fully recognized by the students and the staff at Gallaudet, and methods of teaching emphasizing visual and spatial forms are clearly respected. This seems to be the case, for example, in the very strong mathematics department at Gallaudet, where a majority of the faculty is deaf.
The validation of Sign as a complete gestural language, with specific physiological correlates in the brain, over the past thirty years, cannot be wholly separated from its cultural aspects, for the phenomenon of Sign is at once biological and cultural. The last few decades have seen the development and rise of many art forms and cultural forms unique to the deaf—most notably those of deaf theater and Sign poetry—Sign arts that have no correlate in other languages, and cannot be translated satisfactorily into speech. Indeed, this is true of the entire deaf experience: it cannot be conveyed or comprehended properly without Sign. There has been a proliferation of research, some by the deaf themselves, on the cultural aspects of Sign, on all that goes into the making of a deaf culture and community.12
This leads to the political aspects of deafness: the need for full recognition of the unique deaf community and culture; for full autonomy, for the power to decide and to legislate for themselves; the need for the deaf to be considered the equals of the hearing in every way, and given identical rights.13 As the linguistic and cultural run together, so both of these run into the political. Along with the rising status of sign language and deaf culture has come an increasing awareness of the deaf in our midst, and an increasing awareness on their part of their autonomy and power. But all of this has been gathering under the surface; it did not become clear (at least to the outside world, and even to many within the deaf community) until it exploded, in March of this year.
To understand the spirit of that explosion one has, I believe, to go back to Clerc. His teachings, until his death, had the effect of widening the nineteenth-century view of "human nature," of introducing a relativistic and egalitarian sense of great natural range, not just a dichotomy of "normal" and "abnormal."14 We speak of our nineteenth-century forebears as rigid, moralistic, repressive, censorious, but the tone of Clerc's voice, and of those who listened to him, conveyed quite the opposite impression: that this was an age very hospitable to "the natural"—to the whole variety and range of natural proclivities—and not disposed (or at least less disposed than our own) to make moralizing or clinical judgments on what is "normal" and what is "abnormal."15 A sense of this openness is suggested in the title of Harlan Lane's book on the deaf, When the Mind Hears; and its relative absence today, at least among the administrators of Gallaudet, was given the same form in reverse when (on Nightline) the deaf actress Marlee Matlin said (of the hearing administration), "You people are deaf in the mind." Lane's title, consciously, and Matlin's outburst, consciously or not, both echo the words of Victor Hugo to a deaf friend, Ferdinand Berthier: "What matters deafness of the ear, when the mind hears? The one true deafness, the incurable deafness, is that of the mind."
The accusation that the Gallaudet authorities were "deaf in the mind" implies no malevolence, but rather a misdirected paternalism, which, the deaf feel, is anything but benign—based as it is on pity and condescension, and on an implicit view of them as "incompetent," if not diseased. Special objection has been made to some of the doctors involved in Gallaudet's affairs, who, it is felt, tend to see the deaf merely as having diseased ears, and not as whole people adapted to another sensory mode.16 In general, it is felt that this offensive paternalism hinges on a value judgment by the hearing: their saying, "We know what is best for you. Let us handle things"—whether this is in response to the choice of language (allowing, or not allowing, Sign) or in judging capacities for education or jobs. It is still sometimes felt, or again felt—after the more spacious opportunities offered in the mid-nineteenth century—that the deaf should be printers, or work in the post office, do "humble" jobs, and not aspire to higher education. The deaf, in other words, felt they were being dictated to, that they were being treated as children. Bob Johnson told me a typical story:
It's been my impression, after having been here for several years, that the Gallaudet faculty and staff treat students as pets. One student, for example, went to the Outreach office; they had announced there would be an opportunity to practice interviewing for jobs. The idea was to sign up for a genuine interview and learn how to do it. So he went and put his name on a list. The next day a woman from the Outreach office called and told him she had set up the interview, had found an interpreter, had set up the time, had arranged for a car to take him, and she couldn't understand why he got mad at her. He told her, "The reason I was doing this was so that I could learn how to call the person, and learn how to get the car, and learn how to get the interpreter, and you're doing it for me. That's not what I want here." That's the meat of the issue.
Far from being childlike or incompetent, as they were "supposed" to be (and as so often they supposed themselves to be), the students at Gallaudet showed high competence in managing the March revolt. This impressed me especially when I wandered into the communications room, the nerve center of Gallaudet during the strike, with its central office filled with TTY-equipped telephones. Here the deaf students contacted the press and television—invited them in, gave interviews, compiled news, issued press releases, around the clock—masterfully; here they raised funds for a "Deaf Prez Now" campaign; here they solicited, successfully, support from Congress, presidential candidates, union leaders. They gained the world's ear, at this extraordinary time, when they needed it.
Even the administration listened—so that after four days of seeing the students as foolish and rebellious children who needed to be brought into line, after years of seeing things in hard, inflexible, authoritarian terms, Dr. Zinser was forced to pause, to listen, to reexamine her own long-held assumptions, to see things in a new light—and, finally, to resign. She did so in terms that were moving and seemed genuine, saying that neither she nor the board had anticipated the fervor and commitment of the protesters, or had seen that their protest was the leading edge of a burgeoning national movement for deaf rights. "I have responded to this extraordinary social movement of deaf people," she said as she tendered her resignation on the night of March 10, and spoke of coming to see this as "a very special moment in time," one that was "unique, a civil rights moment in history for deaf people."
Friday, March 11: The mood on campus is completely transformed. A battle has been won. There is elation. More battles have to be fought. Placards with the students' four demands have been replaced with placards saying "31/2," because the resignation of Dr. Zinser only goes halfway toward meeting the first demand, that there be a deaf president immediately. But there is also a gentleness that is new, the tension and anger of Thursday have gone, along with the possibility of a drawn-out, humiliating defeat. A largeness of spirit is everywhere apparent—released now, I partly feel, by the grace and the words with which Zinser resigned, words in which she aligned herself with, and wished the best for, what she called an "extraordinary social movement."
Support is coming in from every quarter: three hundred deaf students from the National Technical Institute for the Deaf arrive, elated and exhausted, after a fifteen-hour bus ride from Rochester, New York. Deaf schools throughout the country are closed in total support. The deaf flood in from every state—I see signs from Iowa and Alabama, from Canada, from South America, as well as from Europe, even from New Zealand. Events at Gallaudet have dominated the national press for forty-eight hours. Virtually every car going past Gallaudet honks now, and the streets are filled with supporters as the time for the march on the Capitol comes near. And yet, for all the honking, the speeches, the banners, the pickets, an extraordinary atmosphere of quietness and dignity prevails.
Noon: There are now about 2,500 people, a thousand students from Gallaudet and the rest supporters, as we start on a slow, joyful walk to the Capitol. As we walk a strange and wonderful sense of quietness grows, which puzzles me. It is not wholly physical (indeed, there is rather a lot of noise in a way—the earsplitting, but to them inaudible, yells of the deaf, as a start), and I decide it is, rather, the quietness of a moral drama. The sense of history in the air gives it this strange quietness.
Slowly, for there are children, babies, and some physically disabled among us (some deaf-blind, some ataxic, and some on crutches), slowly, and with a mixed sense of resolve and festivity, we walk to the Capitol, and there, in the clear March sun that has shone the entire week, we unfurl banners and raise pickets. One great banner says WE STILL HAVE A DREAM, and another, with the individual letters carried by fourteen people, simply says HELP US CONGRESS.
We are packed together, but there is no sense of a crowd, rather of an extraordinary camaraderie. Just before the speeches start, I find myself hugged—I think it must be someone I know, but it is a student bearing a sign ALABAMA, who hugs me, punches my shoulder, smiles, as a comrade. We are strangers, but yet, at this special moment, we are comrades.
There are many speeches—from Greg Hlibok, the student body president, from some of the faculty, from congressmen and senators. I listen for a while:
It is an irony [says one, a professor at Gallaudet] that Gallaudet has never had a deaf chief executive officer. Virtually every black college has a black president, testimony that black people are leading themselves. Virtually every women's college has a woman as president, as testimony that women are capable of leading themselves. It's long past time that Gallaudet had a deaf president as testimony that deaf people are leading themselves.
I let my attention wander, taking in the scene as a whole: thousands of people, each intensely individual but bound and united with a single sentiment. After the speeches, there is a break of an hour, during which a number of people go in to see congressmen. But most of the group, who have brought packed lunches in on their backs, now sit and eat and talk, or rather sign, in the great plaza before the Capitol—and this, for me, as for all those who have come or chanced to see it, is one of the most wonderful scenes of all. For here are a thousand or more people signing freely, in a public place—not privately, at home, or in the enclosure of Gallaudet, but openly and unself-consciously, and beautifully, before the Capitol.
The press has reported all the speeches, but missed what is surely equally significant. They failed to give the watching world an actual vision of the fullness and vividness, the unmedical life, of the deaf. And once more, as I wander among the huge throng of signers, as they chat over sandwiches and sodas before the Capitol, I feel the utter naturalness and sufficiency of their lives, and the sense of them as necessarily, but passionately and beautifully, other, unique, separate from yet integral to us. I find myself remembering the words of a deaf student at the California School for the Deaf, who had signed on television:
We are a unique people, with our own culture, our own language [American Sign Language, which has just recently been recognized as a language in itself], and that sets us apart from hearing people.
I walk back from the Capitol with Bob Johnson. I myself tend to be apolitical, and have difficulty even comprehending the vocabulary of politics. Bob, a pioneer Sign linguist, who has taught and researched at Gallaudet for years, says as we walk back:
It's really remarkable, because in all my experience I've seen deaf people be passive and accept the kind of treatment that hearing people give them. I've seen them willing, or seem to be willing, to be "clients," when in fact they should be controlling things…. Now all at once there's been a transformation in the consciousness of what it means to be a deaf person in the world, to take responsibility for things. The illusion that deaf people are powerless—all at once, now, that illusion has gone, and that means the whole nature of things can change for them now. I'm extremely enthusiastic about what I'm going to see over the next few years.
"I don't quite understand what you mean by 'clients,' " I say.
"You know Tim Rarus [Bob explains]—the one you saw at the barricades this morning, whose signing you so admired as pure and passionate—well, he summed up in two words what this transformation is all about. He said, "It's very simple. No deaf president, no university," and then he shrugged his shoulders, looked at the TV camera, and that was his whole statement. That was the first time deaf people ever realized that a colonial client-industry like this can't exist without the client. It's a billion-dollar industry for hearing people. If deaf people don't participate, the industry is gone.
Saturday has a delightful, holiday air about it. It is a day off (some of the students have been working virtually nonstop from the first demonstration on Sunday evening), and a day for cookouts on the campus. But even here the issues are not forgotten. The very names of the food have a satirical edge: the choice lies between "Spilman dogs" and "Board-burgers." The campus is festive, now that students and schoolchildren from a score of other states have come in (a little deaf black girl from Arkansas, seeing all the signers around her, says in Sign, "It's like a family to me today"). There has also been an influx of deaf artists from all over, some coming to document this unique event in the history of the deaf, and some to celebrate it (in lyrical paintings and poems).
Greg Hlibok is relaxed, but still very vigilant: "We feel that we are in control. We are taking things easy. We don't want to go too far." Two days earlier, Dr. Zinser was threatening to "take control." That would have been an imposed, foreign control. What one sees today is self-control, that quiet consciousness and confidence that come from inner strength and certainty.
Sunday evening, March 13: The board met today, for nine hours. There were nine hours of tension, waiting,…no one knowing what was to come. Then the door opened, and Philip Bravin, one of the four deaf board members and known to all the deaf students, came out. His appearance—and not Spilman's—already told the story, before he made his revelations in Sign. He was speaking now, he signed, as chairman of the board, for Spilman had resigned. And his first task now, with the board behind him, was the happy one of announcing that King Jordan had been elected the new president.
King Jordan, deafened at the age of twenty-one, had been at Gallaudet for fifteen years; he was dean of the School of Arts and Sciences, a popular, modest, and unusually sane man, who had at first supported Zinser when she was selected. Greatly moved, Jordan, in simultaneous sign and speech, said:
I am thrilled to accept the invitation of the board of trustees to become the president of Gallaudet University. This is a historic moment for deaf people around the world. This week we can truly say that we together, united, have overcome our reluctance to stand for our rights. The world has watched the deaf community come of age. We will no longer accept limits on what we can achieve. The highest praise goes to the students of Gallaudet for showing us exactly even now how one can seize an idea with such force that it becomes a reality.
With this, the dam burst, and jubilation burst out everywhere. When everyone then returned to Gallaudet for a final, triumphal meeting, Jordan said, "They know now that the cap on what they can achieve has been lifted. We know that deaf people can do anything hearing people can except hear." And Greg Hlibok, hugging Jordan, added, "We have climbed to the top of the mountain, and we have climbed together."
Monday, March 14: Gallaudet looks normal on the surface. The barricades have been taken down, the campus is open. The "uprising" has lasted exactly one week—from last Sunday evening, March 6, when Dr. Zinser was forced on an unwilling university, to the happy resolution last night, that utterly different Sunday evening, when all was changed.
But has all been changed? Will there be a lasting "transformation of consciousness"? Will the deaf at Gallaudet, and the deaf community at large, emboldened by the events of this week, indeed find the opportunities they seek? Will we, the hearing, allow them these opportunities? Allow them to be themselves, a unique culture in our midst, yet admit them as coequals to every sphere of activity? One hopes the events at Gallaudet will be a beginning.
"It took seven days to create the world, it took us seven days to change it"—this was the joke of the students, flashed in Sign from one end of the campus to another. And with this feeling they took their spring break, going back to their families throughout the country, carrying the euphoric news and mood with them.
But objective change, historical change, does not happen in a week, even though its first prerequisite, "the transformation of consciousness," may happen, as it did, in a day. "Many of the students," Bob Johnson told me, "don't realize the extent and the time that are going to be involved in changing, though they do have a sense now of their strength and power…. The structure of oppression is so deeply engrained."
And yet there are beginnings. There is a new "image" and a new movement, not merely at Gallaudet but throughout the deaf world. News reports, especially on television, have made the silent deaf articulate and visible across the entire nation. But the profoundest effect, of course, has been on the deaf themselves. It has welded them into a community, a worldwide community, as never before. There has already been a deep impact upon deaf children. One of King Jordan's first acts, when the college reconvened after the spring break, was to visit the grade school at Gallaudet, and talk to the children there, something no president had ever done before. Such concern has to affect their perception of what they can become. (Deaf children sometimes think they will "turn into" hearing adults, or else be feeble, put-upon creatures if they do not.)
All sorts of changes, administrative, educational, social, psychological, are already beginning at Gallaudet. But what is clearest at this point is the much-altered bearing of its students, a bearing that conveys a new, wholly unself-conscious sense of pleasure and vindication, of confidence and dignity. This new sense of themselves respresents a decisive break from the past, which could not have been imagined just a few months ago.17
More by Oliver Sacks
The case of Walter B.
The Feeling of Disorder
On wellness and illness
Oliver Sacks (1933–2015) was a physician and the author of over ten books, the most recent of which is On the Move: A Life.
One can be very close to if not actually a member of the deaf community without being deaf. Perhaps the most important prerequisite besides the knowledge of and sympathy for deaf people is being a fluent user of American Sign Language: the only hearing people who are ever considered full members of the deaf community are the hearing children of deaf parents for whom Sign is a native language. This is the case with Dr. Henry Klopping, the much-loved superintendent of the California School for the Deaf. One of his former students, talking to me at Gallaudet, signed, "He is deaf, even though he is hearing." ↩
This resentment of "paternalism" (or "mommyism") is very evident in the special edition of the students' newspaper (The Buff and Blue) published on March 9, in which there is a poem entitled "Dear Mom." This starts: ↩
Indeed, Harlan Lane uses the life and voice of Laurent Clerc as the vehicle for his history of the deaf, When the Mind Hears (Random House, 1984). A visiting professor at Gallaudet this year, Lane took an active part in helping the student movement in March. ↩
There was soon a division of the ways, with blind pupils being educated separately from the "deaf and dumb" (as the congenitally deaf, with little or no speech, used to be called). Among the two thousand deaf students at Gallaudet now, there are about twenty students who are both deaf and blind. These students, of course, must develop astonishing tactile sensibility and intelligence, as Helen Keller did. ↩
See Edward Miner Gallaudet, History of the College for the Deaf, 1857–1907 (Gallaudet University Press, 1983). ↩
The contestants in this struggle, Bell and Gallaudet—both the sons of deaf mothers (but mothers with completely different attitudes to their own deafness), each passionately devoted to the deaf in his own way—were about as different as two human beings can be. See Richard Winefield, Never the Twain Shall Meet: Bell, Gallaudet, and the Communications Debate (Gallaudet University Press, 1987). ↩
There exists a condition of diglossia at Gallaudet, and in other deaf communities, where the deaf use ASL among themselves, but instantly switch to a signed form of English if they have to speak in the presence of the nondeaf. ↩
This fundamental work—part physiological, part behavioral—on "visual enhancement" in the congenitally deaf is now readily accessible in two fascinating recent studies: Howard Poizner, Edward S. Klima, and Ursula Bellugi, What the Hands Reveal about the Brain (MIT Press, 1987), and Helen Neville, "Cerebral Organization for Spatial Attention," in J. Stiles-Davis, M. Kritchevsky, and U. Bellugi, eds., Spatial Cognition: Brain Bases and Development (Lawrence Erlbaum, 1988). ↩
This applies also, though to a smaller extent, to the "hearing deaf," i.e., the hearing children of deaf parents who have learned Sign as a primary language. ↩
This early adaptation of the brain to the visual in general and visual signs in particular may be the reason why the congenitally or "prelingually" deaf who learn Sign in infancy, as their first language, achieve an inimitably fluent and graceful signing, which the "postlingually" deafened (who grew up in an aural-oral mode, dominated by auditory sensibilities and speech) find it difficult or impossible to achieve. It is as if the brain has to be molded from the start to the "super" visuality needed for perfect signing. Highly gifted polyglots, who may speak a dozen languages, may not find it nearly as easy to learn Sign, because their nervous systems are already "set" in such an auditory mode. Deaf signers, in contrast, can usually acquire other sign languages with relative ease; this may in part be due to the sharing or similarity of various linguistic conventions, but it suggests, also, the peculiar visual giftedness that all native signers have. ↩
There is a considerable and somewhat controversial literature on the character of cognitive functions among the deaf. See, for example, John Belmont, Michael A. Karchmer, and James W. Bourg, "Structural Influences on Deaf and Hearing Children's Recall of Temporal/ Spatial Incongruent Letter Strings," Educational Psychology, Vol. 3, Nos. 3 and 4 (1983), pp. 259–274. ↩
Much of this work has been published by the Linstok Press, set up by William Stokoe, as well as by Gallaudet University Press and the National Association of the Deaf. See especially Sign Language and the Deaf Community: Essays in Honor of William Stokoe (AND Press, 1981). ↩
For example, few of the deaf sought or obtained higher degrees twenty years ago—there were fewer than half-a-dozen deaf Ph.D.'s in the world. But the number of deaf scholars and administrators has steadily risen; now there are hundreds with much experience and Ph.D.'s—such as Harvey Corson, superintendent of the Louisiana School for the Deaf, and I. King Jordan, dean of the Gallaudet School of Arts and Sciences, the two deaf finalists considered—but rejected—for the position of president of Gallaudet by the board. ↩
This sense of the range of nature, and our respect (even if uncomprehending) for this range, is apparent again and again in Clerc's brief Autobiography. "Every creature, every work of God, is admirably made. What we find faulty in its kind turns to our advantage without our knowing it." Or, again, "We can only thank God for the rich diversity of his creation, and hope that in the future world the reason for it will be explained." ↩
This hospitality to a wide range of proclivities and dispositions, this lack of labeling and stigmatizing, persists as a continuing tolerance and civility among the deaf. I had occasion to see one expression of this on my visit—for I went to Gallaudet with a friend of mine who has Tourette's Syndrome of some severity, a condition which, with its convulsive movements and tics, nearly always attracts negative attention in New York. At Gallaudet there was no staring, no "diagnosing," no "reaction" at all—simply an immediate accepting of him as another human being. ↩
See How You Gonna Get to Heaven If You Can't Talk with Jesus: On Depathologizing Deafness by James Woodward (T.J. Publishers, 1982). ↩
I am deeply grateful to Robert Johnson and Harlan Lane for their great help to me during my visit to Gallaudet and thereafter. I could not have written this piece without them. ↩
Scot Shane
The Russians Have a Word for Dressing Up Reality
Hans A. Bethe
The Inferiority Complex
All-Union Conference of Party Clubs and Party Organizations
A Declaration of the Democratic Platform Group
A Time for Jeremiah
News from the Dalai Lama
Misfortune in Shanghai
November 4, 1999 issue

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


BLUF: The Ultimate minimalist rig complete with internal mag pouches.
The Esstac Trim Bush holds up to 4 M4 magazines internally, with or without Magpuls. These integral mag pockets have open bottoms so sand, dirt or water drains immediately. Great for operations ranging from amphibious to mounted and urban. 14 PALS channels to mount your other pouches. Side-release buckles at all strap attachment points for easy on/off. If a different capacity chest rig is needed, the Bush Boar has 2 more M4 pouches, and a total of 16 PALS channels, while the Boar has 4 more M4 pouches and 20 PALS channels.
Got multiple weapons? Here`s a sample of how the Boar can adapt to your needs. Take the Trim Bush in the M4 configuration, which will hold 4 mags. Then add the 762 Back Panel with KYWIs, and a 762 Back Panel with AK Flap Retainers. These back panels can be swapped out quickly and this would give you complete coverage for an M4, SR-25 and an AK weapon system while keeping all your Molle support pouches up front universal. Since the front remains the same regardless of what mags you carry, you don`t have to move utility pouches from one rig to another, or buy multiple complete rig setups!
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That's a great chest rig, especially when you use it with Esstac Padded Harness. The only thing I wish is a split front. Esstac make large chest rigs with split fornt, but not the smallest one. Anyway, it's the best chest rig I've ever used at the moment.
This is my 2nd ESSTAC chest rig, one ranger green and one multi-cam. Heavy duty gear without any unnecessary crap. Just carrying ammo, hydration and a couple of small pouches. Sweet and to the point! Everything you need and not a bit more. Outstanding quality!
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As promised in the pages of Making Poor Man's Guitars, Shane Speal is providing you with some very powerful...yet easy video lessons to get you started. In the past 10 years, he has filmed hundreds of short, fun videos that will get you playing cigar box guitar in no time. We've placed one of the playlists below, but you can also go to his Youtube Page and see them all.


It's not just celebrating New Year eve's party that fills one's heart with excitement, sometimes arranging for such a party can also be inexplicably fun. While throwing parties are amazing, they are not a cake walk!They involve money, labour and of course your precious time. But when you invest everything in your stride to make your New Year Eve's party a success, you receive a kind of joy that can never be described in words.
The success of your party is going to be dependent on your guests. So, see to it that you don't bungle up with the invitations. Prepare a comprehensive list of guests you would like to invite to your party. Make sure you haven't left out anybody important. And to ensure this, you should start preparing the list of guests, at least, ten days in advance.
Although, there is no set rule about How to organize a New Year's Eve party at home, you can always try to do something unique for your guests. Arrange for a confession session or a resolution session if possible. If it's a resolution session, the guests can take resolutions in front of others. This way, they will feel more determined to stick to the resolutions they take. And in case, it's a confession session you are thinking of holding, rest assured the atmosphere is going to be all laughter and joy.
You can let your guests play cards. This way, they will remain engaged, and you will be able to focus on other things. You can also keep prizes for the winners. This will motivate your guests to play with dedication. Arrange for other games too if you wish to. This will not just keep the kids in your party engaged, but will also allow the adults to have some fun moments.
If you know for sure, that your guests will enjoy dancing, then arranging for a dance party would be the best bet. You can fix a dress code for the dance session if you wish to. But don't forget to inform your guests about the same when you offer them an invitation to your party.
If you don't have anything else to entertain your guests with, you can set up a big screen for them where they can see New Year being celebrated in other parts of the city, live.
For some added element of fun, you can also hold a costume party. Costume parties are great for New Year Eve's celebration. And they will add that much needed humour element to the ambiance. Now, the theme may be chosen by you or you can ask the guests to come dressed as they please.
If you are still wondering How to organize a New Year's Eve party at home,in a way that your guests will remember it then make sure you play great music. Now, the choice of music should depend on the kind of guests you are inviting. If it's a close-friends party, then you can play numbers that you all love.
Aren't these some really amazing tips on How to organize a New Year's Eve party at home? Well yes! So, if you are planning to throw a party this New Year's eve, do keep these points in mind.


Here we go–Day 10! I'm back on it and I hope you're enjoying the story. Let me know what you think in the comments section and make sure you're up to date. Catch Day 8 and 9 here.
The short hand reaches the long hand and I know that 8:45 p.m. is his lunchtime. I dial his number and it rings. I wait and I wait. He's not picking up but I'm willing to wait some more.
Our short time away from each other on the phone has opened up new thoughts and wants. I want to know what we could be. I've thought about how much he means to me. So, I'll wait for him to pick up.
I have to interrupt him before my confidence waivers.
I take a breath and give him a moment to squeeze something in, and he doesn't. I listen to the air in the background and I continue.
"I felt something when I first saw you and I've felt it ever since. It wasn't until you said something that I even realized that these feelings were more than just a friendship. You're closer than any of my girlfriends and more loving than my father. You've been around when I didn't know that I needed you. You've listened when I didn't know I needed to talk. You've looked at me when I've felt ugly and worthless and told me that I was worth more than the world deserved. You've filled my soul with what it needed far before I knew what I wanted. But now I know I want you. I want us. I want to try this, together." I waited one last time for a rebuttal but nothing.
"So, what do you think Cade?" Silence. And then I hear a murmur in the background and his voice yelling at someone.


I recently finished reading The Rabbit and the Elephant: Why Small Is the New Big for Today's Church by Tony & Felicity Dale and George Barna. This book offers the perspective that the church may be more effective in making disciples of Jesus Christ by multiplying rapidly rather than seeking to grow larger. The authors offer both practical tips and a thought framework for launching house churches and creating networks.
Tony and Felicity Dale share their stories of house church planting in both England and the United States. Some of their reminders include listening to God, focus on prayer and to model a simple pattern so that it can easily be repeated.
An outline for engagement in a house church is taken from Acts 2:42 – apostles' teaching, fellowship, breaking bread together and prayer. Each gathering includes conversation, a meal and prayer. None of these are to be the best possible (for example a gourmet chef) to encourage the participation of all. The authors suggest a framework for teaching which involves studying the scripture in a community and using symbols as a guide to the conversation.
What was life like before you became a Christian (or before your faith became real to you)?
How did you meet Jesus?
How has Jesus changed your life?
I found particularly important the reminder that there will be a difficult time of transition for persons who are moving from a more traditional form of church to a micro church. It will not be what it was, nor will it likely be exactly what is envisioned when first starting out.
Many of the themes in this book were quite helpful for those considering the possibility of living out one's faith in a micro church. Unfortunately, the book did not flow smoothly from beginning to end and there were parts of several chapters that did not add to the advancement of the thesis. Nonetheless, this was a solid book and I recommend it for anyone considering a life of faith in a micro church.


G.R. Hambley, (born 1958), poet renowned for "The Passing"
Grace Marks -- convicted of murder in 1843, her role in the murder has never been clear, became the subject of Margaret Atwood's 1996 novel Alias Grace.
Jean Vanier Founder of L'arche.
Elijah McCoy, (born 1844), Black inventor, automatic machinery lubricator, lawn sprinkler, the "real McCoy"
George Lawrence Price (1898-1918), last soldier killed in World War I.
William Stephenson (1896-1989), soldier, airman, spymaster, and the senior representative of British intelligence for the western hemisphere in World War II.
Guy Lombardo, (1902-1977), his band's instrumental version of Auld Lang Syne brought in the new year across North America for more than a generation.
Gilles Vigneault - his song Mon pays has been a significant rallying song among the Québécois.
Josiah Henson - former slave, believed to be the inspiration for "Uncle Tom's Cabin".


With bold pied plumage and a long crest, the tufted duck is a distinctive diving duck and a member of the Anatidae bird family with other ducks, geese, and swans. Tufted ducks can be hard to identify properly in many areas, however, because of extensive hybridization with similar diving ducks. The long tuft of feathers from the crown of the large head is a distinct field mark to watch for, as is the bright yellow eye that helps this bird stand out. Birders who learn more details about this Eurasian duck will be able to recognize and identify it easily, and this fact sheet has everything you need to feel confident about the tufted duck.
Male tufted ducks are glossy black allover except for contrasting, sharply-edged white flanks and white abdomen, and the back can appear more gray than black in bright light. The head and neck may show a faint purple or green iridescence in the brightest sunlight. Females are dark brown-gray overall with a bold rusty wash or blurred barring on the flanks, and the undertail coverts are whitish with gray streaking. Females have much shorter crests than males, and may show a very small white patch at the base of the bill, though this is not always noticeable. The back is generally darker than the underparts. On both genders, the eyes are bright golden yellow, the broad bill is blue-gray with a black nail and tip, and the legs and webbed feet are gray-black.
These ducks are generally quiet, but they do have growling calls, low croaking quacks and low whistles as part of their vocal repertoire.
These ducks are often confused with ring-necked ducks, as well as lesser scaups and greater scaups. While all three of these species have similar plumage coloration and markings, the long head tuft is only seen on tufted ducks and is the key to identifying them correctly.
These diving ducks prefer deeper bodies of water such as lakes, slow-moving rivers, and both natural and artificial reservoirs. They may also be found in city parks where suitable ponds or lakes are present. Tufted ducks prefer freshwater habitats, but are found more widely in coastal bays, estuaries, or deeper brackish marshes in winter.
These ducks are found year-round in western Europe, including the United Kingdom. In summer, their breeding range extends to Iceland, Scandinavia, and throughout Russia. In winter, they migrate to southern Europe and northern Africa, including the Nile River valley. To the east, their winter range stretches from the Middle East through India to eastern China and Japan. They are particularly abundant along coastal Italy, the Caspian Sea, and similar habitats.
While these ducks are not commonly seen in much of North America, limited numbers do reach western Alaska each year. Vagrant sightings may be recorded along both Pacific and Atlantic northern coastlines, especially in winter, and rare sightings are even noted in the Great Lakes region.
These ducks are partial migrants. A central core of their range in western Europe is occupied year-round, though tufted ducks do spread out further north and east during the summer breeding season, as well as further south during the winter months.
Tufted ducks are superb divers, going as deep as 50 feet below the water's surface as they forage. They can be quite gregarious after the breeding season, and gather in very large flocks that may be mixed with other diving ducks, particularly scaups and ring-necked ducks. When startled, they will take off from the water quickly, running briefly along the surface to get enough speed for an explosive liftoff.
Like most ducks, tufted ducks are omnivorous and eat a wide variety of foods. They dive below the water's surface to seek out aquatic plants, amphibians, crustaceans, seeds, mollusks, grain, and aquatic insects. The exact foods that make up their diet will depend on the water quality of their habitat as well as which foods are most abundant in different seasons.
Tufted ducks are monogamous and engage in brief courtship displays that include head bobbing and synchronized bill dipping. The female builds a shallow scrape or low platform nest of grasses, lining it with down. The nest is usually positioned under a bush or dense grass for camouflage. These ducks regularly hybridize with similar species, including greater scaups, lesser scaups, and ring-necked ducks. Less frequent hybridization has also been recorded with common pochards and mallards.
The eggs are oval-shaped and range from light yellow to pale brown or greenish, and there are 7-12 eggs in each brood. The female incubates the eggs for 25-29 days. After the chicks hatch, they can leave the nest quickly and will begin diving to forage within 48 hours. Both parents guide and protect the ducklings, which will take their first flight at 50-55 days old. Juvenile tufted ducks stay with their parents for up to 110 days as they mature.
These ducks are widespread and numerous. In some areas their range is expanding because of sand and gravel quarries that create additional reservoirs that serve as ideal habitat. These ducks are susceptible to oil and other chemical pollution, however, and they can be dramatically impacted by avian influenza. In some countries, most notably Denmark, Italy, and Iran, tufted ducks are managed as a game species for regulated hunting.
While these ducks are not a backyard species, they can be attracted to appropriate habitats that have a rich aquatic ecosystem for adequate feeding. Preserving that habitat is essential for attracting these ducks. Controlling agricultural runoff and managing invasive plants are critical steps to keep appropriate habitat healthy and thriving for tufted ducks. Supporting waterfowl conservation groups, such as Ducks Unlimited, is also helpful to protect these and other ducks.
Tufted ducks are easy enough to find when birders visit the proper habitat in the birds' range. They are more easily spotted during migration periods when duck flocks are larger, but could be noticed at any time of year. Deeper bodies of water with healthy ecosystems are most likely to support tufted ducks, though they will occasionally be found in urban or suburban parks as well, particularly in winter when other bodies of water may be frozen and food is scarce.
Don't forget to check out all our other amazing bird profiles!