text:
Alabama mail carrier surprises birthday boy with a gift
In this Nov. 12, 2020, photo provided by Bonnie Matthews, Chip Matthews, 6, hands postal worker, Tawanna Purter, a thank you card for the unexpected birthday gift she gave him a week earlier in Opelika, Ala. Matthews loves to get the mail, and on his birthday, Purter delivered his presents along with $2 from her own pocket. (Bonnie Matthews via AP)
By LUIS ANDRES HENAOAssociated Press
When Chip Matthews heard the mail truck arriving on his sixth birthday, he rushed out — not knowing that he'd come back with a treasure.
Outside the house, which was decorated with birthday balloons, mail carrier Tawanna Purter held a pile of boxes. One of them was marked with Chip's name and a greeting for his special day, Nov. 5.
"So, when he came running out the door, I said: 'You must be Chip!' And he was like, yes. I said, 'Today's your birthday?' And he started smiling," Purter said.
"So, I said, 'Let me see if I can find you something for your birthday.'" She checked her pocket and surprised him with a gift: a dollar bill and four quarters.
This is the kind of thing Purter does — "I help out anybody, I don't care," she said — surprising people with gas or grocery money when they need it, paying forward the kindnesses of others who helped her out when she struggled to keep a job.
On this day, the 42-year-old letter carrier made one little boy very happy.
"He was ecstatic," said his mom, Bonnie Matthews. "He came running back in the house just waving his money, so excited that he got some birthday money from somewhere extra special and unexpected."
Chip is saving up to buy a Spider-Man action figure. His mom said the kind gesture gave the Opelika, Alabama, family hope after the long months of pandemic isolation, during which she lost her job as a school counselor.
"Our family, like many families, has endured a lot ... has had some pretty significant challenges. And so, gestures like that, I think those are the things, those are the memories that we're hoping to take away from these nine months," Bonnie Matthews said.
Her hope is that Chip and his 8-year-old sister, Bennett, will remember this when they grow up. "Not the ugly that was out there right now, but the good and the kind and the giving."
A photo of a smiling Chip and Purter next to the mail truck has been shared widely on social media. Purter said she was just trying to give back, because people are often nice to her 8-year-old son, Joshua, and sometimes give him a buck or two to brighten his day.
On a recent day, Chip heard the mail truck and rushed out again, this time to deliver an envelope with a thank-you card for his favorite mail carrier. They smiled again and posed for another photo.
"Even though ... no one knows how they're going to make it from here to the next day," Purter said, "there are still people that ... take their time and still want to show kindness."
Since that day, the families have kept in contact. Purter has struggled to find someone who can take care of her son, and Matthews agreed to watch him at her home so he can attend virtual classes while his mom is on her mail route. They're pleased with a bond that started with a small birthday present that united two families.
"It was an awesome moment," Matthews said. "There was a reason we were brought together."
"One Good Thing" is a series that highlights individuals whose actions provide glimmers of joy in hard times — stories of people who find a way to make a difference, no matter how small. Read the collection of stories at https://apnews.com/hub/one-good-thing
Associated Press religion coverage receives support from the Lilly Endowment through the Religion News Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
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Get top headlines from the Union-Tribune in your inbox weekday mornings, including top news, local, sports, business, entertainment and opinion.
LUIS ANDRES HENAO
German and Turkish foreign ministers to meet in Ankara
Germany's foreign minister is scheduled to meet his Turkish counterpart in the Turkish capital, following a tumultuous year in Turkish-European relations
Saudi Arabia has dramatically reduced the number of executions it carried out last year, following changes to its criminal justice laws
The Israeli military says its aircraft struck targets in the Gaza Strip in response to two rockets fired from the Palestinian territory
The NAACP's Legal Defense Fund is launching a scholarship program to create a new generation of civil rights lawyers
Israel is sprinting ahead in vaccinating its population against the coronavirus and it has struck a deal with Pfizer to secure doses in exchange for medical data
So what does a 50-50 Senate get President-elect Joe Biden
Missing elderly Little Italy man found safe
Police confirmed Sunday that Wolfgang Fred Von Horn was located
Suspected carjacker arrested after brief pursuit on I-5 in Encintas
The chase temporarily closed southbound lanes of the freeway
Motorcyclist killed in crash on Interstate 5 at Camp Pendleton
The fatality occurred just north of Las Pulgas Road
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Driver of the vehicle was an on-duty Navy sailor driving a government vehicle
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Neighbors in the Palms Mobile Estates community reported seeing smoke coming out of the man's residence
Most read news stories
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Even as vaccination effort rolls out, cases continue to climb among residents and staff
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California just toughened the rules affecting how and when schools can reopen and offer in-person instruction.
UC San Diego stages in-person classes in outdoor tents to fight pandemic, loneliness
The campus hopes to be serving thousands of students by the end of winter


text:
namespace ql {
void dispatch_http(ql::env_t *env,
                   const http_opts_t &opts,
                   http_runner_t *runner,
                   http_result_t *res_out,
                   const ql::bt_rcheckable_t *parent);
};

static const int64_t day_in_ms = 24 * 60 * 60 * 1000;

version_checker_t::version_checker_t(
        rdb_context_t *_rdb_ctx,
        const std::string &_uname,
        table_meta_client_t *_table_meta_client,
        server_config_client_t *_server_config_client) :
    rdb_ctx(_rdb_ctx),
    uname(_uname),
    table_meta_client(_table_meta_client),
    server_config_client(_server_config_client),
    timer(day_in_ms, this) {
    rassert(rdb_ctx != nullptr);
    coro_t::spawn_sometime(std::bind(&version_checker_t::do_check,
                                     this, true, drainer.lock()));
}

void version_checker_t::do_check(bool is_initial, auto_drainer_t::lock_t keepalive) {
    ql::env_t env(
        rdb_ctx,
        ql::return_empty_normal_batches_t::NO,
        keepalive.get_drain_signal(),
        ql::global_optargs_t(),
        auth::user_context_t(auth::permissions_t(tribool::False, tribool::False, tribool::False, tribool::True)),
        ql::datum_t(),
        nullptr);
    http_opts_t opts;
    opts.limits = env.limits();
    opts.result_format = http_result_format_t::JSON;
    if (is_initial) {
        opts.url = strprintf("https://update.rethinkdb.com/update_for/%s",
                             RETHINKDB_VERSION);
    } else {
        opts.method = http_method_t::POST;
        opts.url = "https://update.rethinkdb.com/checkin";
        opts.header.push_back("Content-Type: application/x-www-form-urlencoded");
        opts.form_data["Version"] = RETHINKDB_VERSION;
        opts.form_data["Uname"] = uname;
        opts.form_data["Number-Of-Servers"] = strprintf("%zu", count_servers());
        opts.form_data["Cooked-Number-Of-Tables"] =
            strprintf("%d", cook(count_tables()));
        //opts.form_data["Cooked-Size-Of-Shards"]
        //    = strprintf("%" PR_RECONSTRUCTABLE_DOUBLE, cook(0.0)); // XXX
    }

    http_runner_t runner(env.get_extproc_pool());
    http_result_t result;

    try {
        dispatch_http(&env, opts, &runner, &result, nullptr);
    } catch (const ql::base_exc_t &ex) {
        logWRN("Problem when checking for new versions of RethinkDB: HTTP request to "
            "update.rethinkdb.com failed.");
        logDBG("%s", ex.what());
        return;
    }

    try {
        process_result(result);
    } catch (const ql::base_exc_t &ex) {
        logWRN("Problem when checking for new versions of RethinkDB: "
            "update.rethinkdb.com returned an invalid result.");
        logDBG("Result body: %s\nHeaders: %s\nError message: %s",
            result.body.trunc_print().c_str(), result.header.trunc_print().c_str(),
            ex.what());
    }
}

// sort of anonymize the input; specifically we want $2^(round(log_2(n)))$
int version_checker_t::cook(int n) {
    if (n < 1) {
        return 0;
    }
    int p = static_cast<int>(round(log2(n)));
    return (1 << p);
}

size_t version_checker_t::count_servers() {
    size_t count = 0;
    server_config_client->get_server_config_map()->read_all(
    [&](const server_id_t &, const server_config_versioned_t *) {
        ++count;
    });
    return count;
}

size_t version_checker_t::count_tables() {
    std::map<namespace_id_t, table_basic_config_t> names;
    table_meta_client->list_names(&names);
    return names.size();
}

void version_checker_t::process_result(const http_result_t &result) {
    rcheck_datum(result.error.empty(), ql::base_exc_t::LOGIC,
                 strprintf("protocol error: %s", result.error.c_str()));
    rcheck_datum(result.body.has(), ql::base_exc_t::LOGIC,
                 "no body returned");

    ql::datum_t status = result.body.get_field("status", ql::THROW);
    const datum_string_t &str = status.as_str();
    if (str == "ok") {
        logDBG("Finished checking for newer versions of RethinkDB. We are already "
            "running the most up-to-date version.");
    } else if (str == "error") {
        ql::datum_t reason = result.body.get_field("error", ql::THROW);
        rfail_datum(ql::base_exc_t::LOGIC,
                    "update server reports error: %s", reason.as_str().to_std().c_str());
    } else if (str == "need_update") {
        ql::datum_t new_version_datum = result.body.get_field("last_version", ql::THROW);
        datum_string_t new_version = new_version_datum.as_str();
        if (seen_version != new_version) {
            ql::datum_t changelog = result.body.get_field("link_changelog", ql::NOTHROW);
            std::string changelog_msg;
            if (changelog.has() && changelog.get_type() == ql::datum_t::R_STR) {
                changelog_msg = strprintf(" You can read the changelog at <%s>.",
                    changelog.as_str().to_std().c_str());
            }
            logNTC("A newer version of the RethinkDB server is available: %s.%s",
                new_version.to_std().c_str(), changelog_msg.c_str());
            seen_version = new_version;
        } else {
            // already logged an update for that version, so no point
            // in spamming them.
            logDBG("Finished checking for newer versions of RethinkDB. No new versions "
                "are available since we last checked.");
        }
    } else {
        rfail_datum(ql::base_exc_t::LOGIC, "unexpected status code");
    }
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


of love to our paper crafting projects.
Keeping that in mind, what would be more fitting than to start off February with a Valentine Challenge?
♥ To enter the challenge, create a layout, a card or an altered project with the theme Valentine in mind, using some of your favorite Pion Design papers.
♥ Share a direct link to your creation/s, not just your blog, using the InLinkz feature at the end of this post. Use one InLinkz for cards, one for layouts and one for altered projects. Please, no back linking.
♥ The challenge starts today, ends at February 12 and is open to all paper crafters worldwide!
♥ The winners in each category will be announced on Thursday, February 14, and they get to choose a complete paper collection from Pion Design.
So welcome to join the challenge and start spreading some love with Pion Design!


The paper Future Response of Global Coastal Wetlands to Sea-level Rise suggests that until 2100 the loss of global coastal wetland area will range between zero and thirty percent, assuming no further accommodation space in addition to current levels. It states that the resilience of global wetlands is primarily driven by the availability of accommodation space, which is strongly influenced by the building of anthropogenic infrastructure in the coastal zone. However, such infrastructures are subject to change in the years to come.
The response of coastal wetlands to sea-level rise during the twenty-first century remains uncertain. Global-scale projections suggest that between 20 and 90 percent (for low and high sea-level rise scenarios, respectively) of the present-day coastal wetland area will be lost, which will, in turn, result in the loss of biodiversity and highly valued ecosystem services. These projections do not necessarily take into account all essential geomorphological, and socio-economic system feedbacks. Here we present an integrated global modelling approach that considers both the ability of coastal wetlands to build up vertically by sediment accretion, and the accommodation space, namely, the vertical and lateral space available for fine sediments to accumulate and be colonized by wetland vegetation. We use this approach to assess global-scale changes in coastal wetland area in response to global sea-level rise and anthropogenic coastal occupation during the twenty-first century.


text:
Q: Calling jquery event handler from knockout compoenent I have a global event handler for all my buttons that looks like this:
$(".btn").mouseup(function () {
    $(this).blur();
});

Just something simple to make sure that buttons don't stay focused after the user clicks it.
However, this does not work for knockout-made components.
I don't think it would make sense to make a global event handler like the above only to make another one in my viewmode since that introduces redundant code. Is there any way to let the above event handler handle my knockout buttons as well as all the rest?

A: For anyone looking for the answer:
To make something like this work, one would have to delegate the handling of the event to a static container that knockout never touches such as document.
So to make a global event that will work for all, you would do something like:
$(document).on('mouseup', '.btn', function () {
    $(this).blur();
});

In my case.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Be the Change Project
House Alive Newsletter Winter 2021
Great Dog Migration
MUGWORTS
Kenya Build Fundraiser
Land Trust House
RIVERS WITHOUT PLASTIC
EDIBLE 'HOOD
Other BTC Projects
Year in Gardening and Cooking Class
NATURAL BUILDING
VersaTerra10 @ Be the Change
VersaTerra10 @ Long Ranch
Earthen Building Weekend
Remembering Tom
We lost a great friend last month.
Tom Harkleroad passed away on his living room sofa on a January morning. He had his cup of coffee by his side and the TV was on - likely with sports or the news of the day. He was 81 years old.
Tom moved into the neighborhood just after we did, sometime in early 2012. He was great friends with neighbor Karen and her brother Vincent who were the first people we met in our 'hood when Karen noticed us and brought over some soup in a tupperware. Tom was looking for a house to buy and living at Karen's in the meantime. He soon found a home on Clear Acre and purchased it in 2013.
We got to know him bit-by-bit through conversations on the street when he was still walking Benny 'round the blocks or during neighborhood potlucks where he'd regularly bring Henry Weinhard's beer and some delicious ribs or rich beans with ham.
A young neighbor-friend of Tom's described him to her friends as "Gandalf". And Tom looked the part - tall and lean, etched face with gray-white beard and wispy hair, even the mischievous twinkle in his eye. To boot, he walked with a carved wooden cane, full of magic I'm sure. But he was a wizard inside as well: Tom performed energy clearings (doing so at our place with his copper dowsing tubes to our neighbor Brad's bemusement), was a Reiki healer (he worked on Katy's injured knee often - he'd feel she needed it and show up on our porch), muscle-tested for allergies (even at a distance), and held an abundant amount of wisdom from a well-lived life that he was able to share in the rare way that it could be heard.
Tom's place was somewhere you knew you could always just drop by. He would wave you in and offer a beer, a whiskey, some eggs or a turkey sandwich. It got to be that I'd stop by on my way back from Gene's after tending the worm farm or if I had some eggs, good bread and milk to share. If his car was in the drive, he was there. Mainly I went for his stories. Sometimes for advice, sometimes for the beer. We shared books with each other and an interest in history and science fiction/fantasy.
We went to Tom's as a family, too. "TV with Tom" was the cheeky way we described our time there but it was truly a wonderful part of our lives. It started with the Super Bowl a few years back and spread to Monday Night Football the next season and has resulted in our kids becoming flag-football maniacs. It wasn't long before "TV with Tom" included the Golden State Warriors, too, whose play we all marveled at while dinner was cooking. Sometimes we'd take a family walk and be sure the route went past Tom's just to check in and try to resist a bit of whiskey. Without exception he'd offer the boys apples or grapes which, we eventually learned, he bought just for them so they'd have a treat when they came over. He was great with the kids - set clear expectations (shoes off, clean up your mess…) and clearly loved them like you'd hope an elder would. They loved him too and loved being there. We can all easily say he was one of our best friends.
Tom grew up in California, born in 1937, and had stories of a younger, smaller LA with its beaches and California scene that defined an era and gave the world the dream of a better, golden life. His dad was big and strong and tragically killed in a logging accident in Northern California when Tom was 14. He said his mom was good looking and this was tough for him as he grew up and she found new loves.
He worked as a cook and a bartender, a carpenter, was a young boxer, opened a gym with a buddy for a short time, opened and ran antiques store in Santa Cruz, built himself a house in the wooded hills of Mendocino county, grew pot here and there, loved the years he played softball, traveled Mexico in a beat-up buick in the 70's (Baja and the mainland, even little La Manzanilla where we are now where his car ran on 5 cylinders and got stuck in the mud and was pulled out by a mule and a group of men). He was a hippie who traveled the US in a bus with other kindred spirits. He lived in Maine, Taos for a spell, Oregon, Hawaii. Loved deeply and loved and lost.
Tom spoke his mind and was not afraid to do so when the time came. He had several funny stories about run-ins with the police - the most recent just a couple years ago in our neighborhood. On one trip with him to Home Depot a burly guy gave us some guff about where we parked. While I was thinking of a retort, Tom responded without missing a beat, "What are you trying to be a cop?" The guy walked away with a mumble.
He joined the Merchant Marines during the early years of the Vietnam War and traveled by boat to Southeast Asia and back. He was in charge of the freshwater systems on the ship which, apparently, was an important job that gave him a bit of protection. On that trip he wrote an anti-war poem and posted it on the message board. It was not well-received. He loathed Trump and politics was always ripe fodder for discussion. We went over November's election ballot together trying to make sense of the ballot questions during the early voting period.
He didn't talk much of his family - he had two children but was was not close to them. As he said, his friends and neighbors were his family.
He reminded me of my grandfather in many ways but particularly in how younger men gravitated towards him. I learned about hospitality from him. About slowing down here and there. About friendship.
Tom predicted, years ago, that he'd die when he was 81 - saw it in a dream. We all hoped he'd be wrong. The last time we saw him Katy told him not to die while we were away in Mexico. "Tom, don't go dying on us while we're away" she said. You could talk like that to Tom. He said, with all seriousness, "You know I'm dying, don't you." We all paused, awkwardly letting that possibility sink in, me hoping that a light rejoinder would come to mind that I could share. But what can you say to that? It was true, he was right.
Tom leaves behind his friends, his dog Benny, tales and wisdom, a walking stick, several plaid shirts. We already miss the Wizard of Clear Acre. May you rest in peace, Tom, and give a piece of your mind when it's needed.
© 2017 by Be the Change Project

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
U.S. Route 283 is a spur of U.S. Route 83.  It currently runs for 731 miles (1,175 km) from Brady, Texas at U.S. Route 87 to Lexington, Nebraska at U.S. Route 30. It passes through the states of Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska.

Route description

Texas

Oklahoma
US-283 enters Oklahoma from Texas in rural Jackson County at a crossing of the Red River.  It runs concurrently with State Highway 5 for several miles past Elmer and continues north to Altus, the largest Oklahoma town on the route.  At the intersection of U.S. Highway 62 in Altus, SH-5 splits off and 283 joins with State Highway 6 for the next  before it takes a western bend to the town of Mangum.  The route continues northwesterly until it crosses I-40 at Sayre.

Through northwestern Oklahoma, US-283 passes through very sparsely populated areas and is the main north–south traffic corridor.  After passing through Cheyenne, 283 meanders through Black Kettle National Grassland then crosses the Canadian River.  It continues north to Arnett where it joins with State Highway 51 west for  then turns north again passing through Shattuck and Laverne following part of State Highway 15 along the way.  North of Laverne, 283 turns west for  to visit the town of Rosston then turns north again to cross the Cimarron River shortly before leaving the state for Kansas.

Some points of interest along US-283 in Oklahoma include the Museum of the Western Prairie in Altus; the Old Greer County Museum in Mangum; Black Kettle National Grassland and the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site near Cheyenne and the Shattuck Windmill Museum.

Kansas

US-283 enters from Oklahoma south of Englewood in Clark County, and passes through largely unpopulated areas of the county until joining up for a brief concurrency with U.S. Route 160. Following the split, US-283 continues north through Minneola before making its way into Dodge City, the only town with a population of more than 3,300 the highway passes through in the Sunflower State.

At Dodge City, US-283 jogs east. It meets with U.S. Route 400, but the two highways do not stay joined for long; US-400 splits and heads southeast towards Greensburg, while US-283 continues eastbound past the Dodge City Regional Airport. After passing the airport, the route then bends northeast before joining U.S. Route 50 and U.S. Route 56 for a brief stint.

US-50 and US-56 split east towards Kinsley, and US-283 resumes a due northerly course through open fields before reaching Jetmore, where K-156 crosses in an east–west direction. K-156 heads to Garden City westbound and Great Bend eastbound. The highway continues on another stretch through sparsely populated farmland before reaching Ness City and K-96, the first of two junctions in Ness County. The other junction in the county is at K-4 near Ransom.

The highway reaches Interstate 70 in WaKeeney, and makes a brief jog east through downtown WaKeeney before turning back to the north. US-283 between Ransom and I-70 was closed for much of 2006 as part of a major reconstruction program.

The highway continues north to Hill City, where it crosses U.S. Route 24. The route stays on course until it reaches southern Norton County, where it has a brief concurrency with K-9. At the split, K-9 continues west to Lenora, and US-283 resumes a straight northerly direction until the city of Norton, where after crossing U.S. Route 36, it reaches Nebraska  later.

With the exception of small sections in Dodge City, all portions of US-283 in Kansas are two-laned.

Nebraska
U.S. Highway 283 enters Nebraska south of Arapahoe.  At Arapahoe, US 283 meets U.S. Highway 6 and U.S. Highway 34.  It continues north through Elwood, then turns northeast.  Near Lexington, US 283 crosses the Platte River and intersects Interstate 80.  It continues north into Lexington as a divided highway, turns back to a 2 lane road, crosses the Union Pacific railroad tracks via an overpass, and after taking 2 right turns on city streets, it ends at an intersection with U.S. Highway 30.

Major intersections
Texas
  northwest of Brady
  in Santa Anna. US 67/US 283 travels concurrently through Santa Anna. US 84/US 283 travels concurrently to Coleman.
  in Baird
  in Albany. The highways travel concurrently through Albany.
  south of Throckmorton. The highways travel concurrently to Vernon.
  in Throckmorton
  south-southwest of Seymour. The highways travel concurrently to Mabelle.
  north-northeast of Seymour. The highways travel concurrently to Mabelle.
  in Vernon
Oklahoma
  in Altus
  in Sayre
  east of Arnett. The highways travel concurrently to west of Arnett.
  south-southeast of Laverne
  east of Rosston. The highways travel concurrently to northwest of Rosston.
Kansas
  north of Englewood. The highways travel concurrently to south-southeast of Minneola.
  in Minneola
  south of Dodge City. US 56/US 283 travels concurrently to . US 283/US 400 travels concurrently to Dodge City.
  east-northeast of Dodge City. The highways travel concurrently to west-southwest of Wright.
  in WaKeeney
  in Hill City
  in Norton
Nebraska
  in Arapahoe
  south of Lexington
  in Lexington

References

External links

Endpoints of U.S. Highway 283

United States Numbered Highway System
U.S. Highways in Kansas
U.S. Highways in Nebraska
U.S. Highways in Oklahoma
2

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
New Book: The Cambridge Companion to Theatre and Science
The Cambridge Companion to Theatre and Science, ed. Kirsten E Shepherd-Barr (Cambridge University Press, 2020), has just been published.
To get a 20% discount use the code THEATREANDSCIENCE (valid for use until 31st December, providing a 20% discount on both hardback and paperback).
Theatre has engaged with science since its beginnings in Ancient Greece. The intersection of the two disciplines has been the focus of increasing interest to scholars and students. The Cambridge Companion to Theatre and Science gives readers a sense of this dynamic field, using detailed analyses of plays and performances covering a wide range of areas including climate change and the environment, technology, animal studies, disease and contagion, mental health, and performance and cognition. Identifying historical tendencies that have dominated theatre's relationship with science, the volume traces many periods of theatre history across a wide geographical range. It follows a simple and clear structure of pairs and triads of chapters that cluster around a given theme so that readers get a clear sense of the current debates and perspectives.
www.cambridge.org/theatreandscience


Iammag is one of a unique slider concept Magazine Thesis Skins with lot of features. It was quite animatic through out without using jqueries. The advance feature of this site is, it reaches 100% perfect grade in Pingdom Tools.


Doodling can be a great way to get the creative juices flowing, to help concentrate during class, or to kill time when you're done taking a test.
Drawing during class is often frowned upon and scolded by teachers who think that their students are paying too much attention to their creations and not the lecture. However, some professors applaud their students artistic endeavors.


text:
Home Stories Iron Horse, Mythic Horn
Iron Horse, Mythic Horn
admin October 7, 2012 March 3, 2015 Stories
from The Seed: Stories from the River's Edge
They was all four of them sitting in a cantina in Lordsburg when I found them, the queerest group of heroes you ever seen: a white man, in his forties, wearing a battered old slouch hat pulled low over his clear blue eyes; a priest, looked to be Italian, Jesuit I reckoned from his robes and three-cornered hat; a shorter, stouter fellow with a pork-pie, probably the rabbi I'd heard tell about; and the Celestial, his braid and robes a familiar sight to me. A Mexican barman, probably the owner, too, looked up at me as I walked in, raised his eyebrow a touch. Can't blame him; after that strange crew, to have a Chiricahua Indian gal in Celestial get-up push through the batwings, well, there's only so much oddness people can just accept without stopping to wonder what the hell is happening in the world.
Me, I seen a few sights would make that bartender do more than just raise an eyebrow. Things that would drop any fragile mind in a dead faint and make even strong men run screaming for the hills. So I really didn't pay no mind to his staring. It was New Year's Day, 1881, and I had a magical creature to transport all the way to San Francisco. Problem was, I needed protection. That's why I was in this small dusty town of the New Mexico Territory, a shabby chunk of desert kept alive by the new railroad—I had heard these gents was the best in their field.
I walked up to their table, and first thing, that Celestial bowed to me and muttered something I only half-understood. I thought my Chinese had gotten pretty good, but I was at a loss with him, and said as clear as I could in that language, "I do not quite understand you."
"Ah," he answered in words I knew, nodding. "You speak Mandarin, not Cantonese. Where did you learn it, if I may ask?"
Here the white man interrupted, in English. I was pretty sure he was the Kindred fellow of the stories I'd heard. "More importantly, ma'am, who are you? What's your business with us?"
"Mr. Kindred?" He nodded. "Y'all are the Hounds of Heaven, ain't that so? Ones who fought and beat the demon army over to Fort Union?"
"Well," said the Rabbi with his queer German-sounding accent, "they weren't demons, exactly, but yes. That's us."
The Jesuit muttered in Spanish to Kindred, and the white man smirked. "Well, you've found us, if you were looking for us. I don't figure you just wanted to 'see the elephant,' or you'd just be gawking at us like others have. So why don't you tell us what's on your mind, Miss…"
I realized I was bungling the job, and I felt my face flush. "Gosh, I'm sorry. Name's Katy Whitmore. I need to hire your services."
The Jesuit grunted some more Spanish, and Kindred answered kind of irritated, "Ya sé, Pietro." I knew what that meant, and now I knew the priest's name. I also knew that him and Kindred probably didn't always see eye to eye, and that the other two was less hot-headed. But now Kindred was talking. "Problem is, Miss Whitmore, our services aren't exactly for hire. We do the work that needs to be done."
"Oh, well I have a right unusual job, and y'all are about the only ones can get it done, I figure."
They just looked at me quiet, waiting. They made me nervous with those calm blank faces, and I swallowed heavy. "We are transporting some real important freight clear to San Francisco, but we expect problems of the sort y'all are expert in handling. Of a supernatural sort, if you get my meaning."
Pietro narrowed his eyes like with suspicion or doubt. "Exactly what type of freight you are transporting, Miss Whitmore?"
I took a deep breath and looked Kindred right in the eyes, knowing that he was the one I needed to convince. "I guess you'd call it a unicorn." Flicking my eyes over to the Celestial, I simply added, "A ch'i-lin."
His face stayed impassive, but it was obvious from him tensing up his body that I'd done startled him good. "Why," he managed to say with faked calm, "would a ch'i-lin be on this continent, much less this particular stretch of desert?"
"Well, it's not too easy to explain, but let's just say he come to stop the evil treatment of Chinese workers laying railroad track. He was accompanied by," I had to stop and think of how to say this in English, "by five, uh, seng?"
"Monks." His jaw was still tight like a coyote trap.
"Right. All sigung, uh, masters. From a temple in China. O-mei Shan."
"Shaolin monks, from the great school and library of the North. Here in America." There was like wonderment or something stronger in his eyes. I could feel him getting even more wound up. The air was shaking with it.
"Yessir. But they was attacked by demons 'fore they could even begin their mission. Only one lived, and the… the unicorn was hurt bad. We—I stumbled across them and helped them heal up—we been biding our time for nigh on five years now, but we got to get him back. He won't make it much longer in this country, that's what he says. K'uei, that's them demons I mentioned, are all over. Bad times coming. So I'm asking y'all… help us. Help us 'fore it's too late."
From the look the Celestial gave Kindred, I knew I had them.
An hour later we met back up at the train platform, where Kindred made arrangements with the ticket master for the transport of all the heaps of baggage them demon fighters had brung along. One crate was some nine feet long and took all four men plus a couple local boys to move onto the knotty planks. Dozens more boxes, carpet bags and valises were arranged around it, containing the accouterments, I guess, of their supernatural profession.
I knew all their names now: Sun Mu-pai was from China, expert in Tao magic; Father Pietro Baccalini was an Italian exorcist, real good at casting out demons and the like; Moshe Loew was a rabbi, though I didn't know for sure what his talents were. Master Sun made it real clear that their help was going to depend on them seeing the beast, but I wasn't too worried. My job was to get them to this point, and my master had assured me the rest would take care of itself.
Master Sun walked over to me as the stuff was being piled up. He give me curt bow, the slightest of formalities, then asked me in Chinese, "It falls to me to devise a strategy for repelling any attack that may be made on us. Please, clarify for me— the k'uei of which you have spoken… are they full jiang shr?"
"No, sir. My master, K'ung T'u-yi, has told me of those drinkers of blood, but the thing that attacked the monks six years ago was pure spirit, not animated flesh. A demon, I am told, a revenant of some dead person's p'o soul."
"Such demons are typically hungry for justice, for revenge: how came one to attack a being as holy as a ch'i-lin?"
"We don't know, but the Book of Changes warns of a great number of these spirits, searching for us. We are blessed to have your protection."
Sun Mu-pai took his leave, musing on what I'd told him. Before too long, I caught the sound of the Rogers 4-4-0 engine, tooting its whistle as it come chugging toward us, coal smoke popping out in slower and slower bursts. My palms sweated and ached with fear, but I swallowed hard and focused like I was learned to do.
Once the train had stopped, my master disembarked. Before I could get to him to confide what all had been agreed, Sun Mu-pai walked up and muttered who knows what. My master thrust up the sleeves of his robe, revealing the mantis and crane burned into the insides of his forearms. The Taoist wizard seemed satisfied, bowing low. I was about to gesture him over before Kindred or anyone else snatched him up, but he glided toward me without any prompting. My heart started beating a little quicker. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it as disrespectful and ridiculous, I felt more alive when he was around.
"Wu Kai-tan," he said, addressing me by my celestial name with a smile in his eyes. "It is good to see you, shigoo mei. You have convinced them, I see."
"Yes, Master K'ung, though they insist on seeing the ch'i-lin before actually boarding the train."
"Understandable. Here," he drew a leather pouch from within his sleeves. "It served us well, but I am glad you found the Hounds of Heaven, as I doubt your small magic will suffice for the longer journey."
"I agree. Shall we begin, Master?"
I introduced him to the Hounds as quick as possible, and the porters set about loading all the gear into the car we'd set aside for us humans. Meanwhile, K'ung T'u-yi led us all to the other padlocked one.
"Y'all are about to enter the presence of something holy," I translated for him. "I imagine I ain't got to instruct y'all on your manners, but be aware. Step light; don't go disturbing the circle of salt and rice." At the mention of that barrier, the four of them looked at each other and gave approving nods. Seems my master had gone up a notch in their estimation.
He unlocked the door and slid it slightly open. A pleasant odor of cinnamon and cloves drifted out. One by one we squeezed in, me last of all. Ahead of me I heard the rabbi whisper all hushed and reverent, "Truly a re'em such as the ancients described. I've held that horn to my lips many times, but I never thought to see beast itself." No idea what he meant, but I figured re'em to be some Hebrew word for unicorn. I reckoned I understood part of why Loew was so amazed. Hell, I'd lived near the ch'i-lin for half a decade now, and I was still overcome by it. It was about the size of a deer, with a shaggy tail and cloven hooves. Its fur was multicolored, a white ground with intricate runes and symbols swirling about in black, blue, yellow and red. As it looked on us with its golden eyes, burning and eternal like two suns, its small horn—not bone but something like cartilage—seemed to point into our hearts.
A sound like a thousand chimes seemed to fill the air, but I knew from experience that the music was just in our heads. It wasn't language, not really, not even pictures. Just feelings, like right now thankfulness and joy. I looked round at the men and was a mite startled to see tears on Kindred's cheeks. He nodded.
"Yes," he whispered, though it wasn't real clear what he was responding to.
Sun Mu-pai turned to Master K'ung and muttered something I couldn't catch. The Shaolin priest nodded his agreement, and the Taoist spoke to his fellows. "The monk and I will travel in here, readying a last defense if you are unable to keep the k'uei from entering."
"Good idea," Kindred nodded. "I'll bring your bags over in a moment." Reaching out to place his hand on Master Sun's shoulder, he added, "We'll do our part, my friend."
Not long after, the train got a-moving, and I found myself sitting in the Pullman across the aisle from Kindred. My window faced south, and as the train began to pick up steam, I stared out at the Peloncillo Mountains, trying to make out the distant purple peaks of the Chiricahuas where I was born. I guess I got a mite wistful looking, for Kindred spoke, yanking me from my reverie.
"I noticed the medicine bag, Ms. Whitmore. I take it you're Apache?"
"Well, yessir, but I wasn't raised by them. My real parents, far's I can figure, were part of Cochise's band. Seems I was born round about 1860. Sometime in the winter of '61 Cochise ordered women and children back up into the mountains while his braves and him dealt with some soldiers coming onto the band's territory. I must've got separated from my ma as a rancher found me huddled in the snow up to Apache Pass, not far from the Butterfield station house, this here pouch clutched in my little hands."
I had to pause for a moment because that maggot's face was leering in my mind, his broken teeth and draggling mustachios… A deep breath, my eyes closed. The shortest moment of tso-ch'an, and I continued.
"Man's name was Frank Whitmore. He took me back to his ranch, a spread near the Santo Domingo River, and his wife was just tickled to have her a girl, her own children being mostly boys 'cept for a daughter that had died of the smallpox.
"I remember my childhood as mainly happy. Ma Whitmore learned me all sorts of domestic skills, made me dresses and dolls, read the Bible to me. My 'brothers' were considerable older than me, and when I was little, they give me candy and treated me like a princess. But along about my tenth year, all that commenced to change. The boys was all men; they went off to find their own fortunes down Tombstone way or to marry or fight the Indians…"
Kindred gave a sort of grimace. "A bit ironic, that last occupation."
"Yeah, well, didn't hardly nobody think of me as an Apache, not when I was just a wee thing. But as I got older, Frank Whitmore started a-cursing me for a red-skinned devil and whatnot. He for sure saw me as an Indian… among other things."
Kindred's eyes went soft, and I could kind of feel what was coming next. I didn't expect pity from him nor nobody, to be honest, but his look of compassion was sincere, and I could see the Buddha-nature my master had learned me about shining through the illusion of his flesh.
"He tried to rape you, didn't he?"
I ducked my head, feeling shame color my cheeks. Didn't have no reason to be ashamed, but there was the feeling anyhow. I had struggled long and hard to clear my heart of the desire to harm him, once I learned how craving such things, craving anything, in fact, kept me a slave to my suffering. But the shame… I couldn't be rid of it. "He didn't just try, Mr. Kindred. But you can bet I didn't stick around for more of that horrible life. No, sir. I high-tailed it out of there. Wound up in the Sierra Diablo—you know, the Black Mountains, a ways north of here—and that's where I come across my master and the ch'i-lin, both of them wounded."
For a moment, Kindred glanced toward the other end of the railcar, where Baccalini and Loew were readying their odd gear with practiced silence. They seemed to feel his gaze, and they looked up.
The priest asked, "What they were doing in the Black Mountains?"
"Well, like I said, the monks brung the ch'i-lin across the ocean so it could stop the horrors being perpetrated against Celestial railroad workers. They'd heard all the way to China about how they was being made to work in real deplorable conditions. What struck them as most worrisome was the many deaths and the way the bodies was just being buried in shallow, unmarked graves, without the proper rituals and with no one to remember those poor souls. Sure, lots was dug back up and shipped home for respectful burial, but too many was forgotten, left behind, with no one to ease their passing—a surefire way to create demons, though white folks be too ignorant to know it. So the monks, they come on a boat to Mexico, planning to cross the New Mexican border and head northwest into Utah, far's I can tell. But up in them mountains, they was attacked by a k'uei; I reckon the p'o soul of some dead worker that was drawn to the ch'i-lin's magic. What it was doing so far from the railways, I still don't understand."
The rabbi cleared his throat and broke in. "A dybbuk—k'uei—looks to attach itself to a live person. It had probably followed prospectors who came into New Mexico on the rails but then had taken wagons south to hunt for silver in the mountains. We've been hearing about similar attacks for some seven years now, but we've not experienced any activity first-hand."
Kindred sighed. "None of this surprises me, however. More than a hundred thousand Chinese workers have entered this country over the past decade, and despite the fact that our present ease of travel has been purchased with their lifeblood, we continue to treat those men and woman abominably. President Hayes has just signed the Chinese Exclusion Treaty, which reverses the open-door policy set in 1868 and places strict limits both on the number of Chinese immigrants allowed to enter the United States and on the number allowed to become naturalized citizens. In fact, Congress is considering a complete moratorium on Chinese immigration. In essence, the US has used the Chinese to build its railroads, but doesn't want them to stay, and certainly doesn't want them to have its gold or silver. That the tortured souls of dead Chinese want revenge is to be expected, as far as I'm concerned. But the ch'i-lin and its guardians must be protected, as must be any person innocent of the destruction of those lives."
"Amen to that. After five years of living in those mountains, the presence of the ch'i-lin drawing more and more k'uei to us, Master K'ung and me realized that protecting the unicorn meant getting it away from the US. So I got us a rig at Silver City—where I also heard bout y'all's outfit—and we split up, my master heading to Deming to ride the rails, and me taking a shorter route through the mountains to catch y'all in Lordsburg. And that, as they say, is that."
"I see." Kindred pulled out a wooden case, unclasped it, and pulled a strange pistol from within. He pored over it real careful, checking the mechanisms, taking it apart piece by piece.
"You don't mind me asking," I put in, "How'd y'all form the Hounds of Heaven?"
"Oh," he replied, "we didn't quite form anything, ma'am. Each of us was doing similar work in his own part of New Mexico, particularly in the area of Las Vegas. Trying to ameliorate the evils that our people had brought to this land or to struggle against forces that had amassed themselves long before our arrival. We were drawn together, you might say, again and again over the course of the last decade. Finally we came to realize we were a team. A group of warriors, staving off the darkness."
"Hounds of Heaven."
Kindred smiled, but he didn't say anything else, just took to cleaning his odd pistol, looking over at me from time to time with kindly eyes. I was all sorts of tuckered out, so I pulled down one of the beds and clambered up into it, pulling the curtain part-ways closed. Maybe 'cause nary a one of these men batted an eye at me being Indian and all, my mind wandered onto the figure of the Sixth Patriarch, Dajian Huineng, who my master had talked to me about a lot, given that he also was a poor person of a disrespected race, like me. Eventually all China, Master K'ung told me, learned to respect him, but when he first come upon Huang Mei mountain, the Fifth Patriarch like to run him off. Called him a barbarian. Huineng allowed as how he surely was a barbarian, and unschooled, but he told the Ch'an leader, "Our physical bodies may look different, but our Buddha-nature is the same." Hearing them words was my first step toward freedom from my earthly situation, from the pain of my past and the confusion of the present.
My master, he would recite to me some of the more famous kung-an, cases that us students is supposed to reflect on as we move toward enlightenment. As I laid there, waiting for sleep, one case that had to do with Huineng come to mind, and I pondered it a spell:
The wind was flapping a temple flag, and two monks started an argument. One said the flag moved; the other said the wind moved. The two of them argued back and forth but they couldn't reach no compromise.
Huineng said, "It ain't the wind that moves; it ain't the flag, neither.
"It's y'all's minds doing the moving."
The two monks was awe-struck.
Meditating on the implications of that case, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
A few hours later, a voice pulled me from the near-Nirvana of slumber.
"Ms. Whitmore. We've stopped for coal and water. It may be a good time to stretch your legs and so forth."
I pulled back the curtain and was greeted by Kindred's kindly face. He gestured with a tilt of his head toward the door at the far end of the Pullman, and feeling the call of nature, I slipped out of the bunk, folded it away, and headed into the cool twilight air. Sign on the platform indicated we was at Cochise, and I give a little smile at the irony. A depot agent, frowning mightily at the need to talk to a Chinese-dressed redskin gal, pointed me in the direction of the privy, and after dealing with my various necessities, I washed up at the pump beside the depot.
The last thin rays of sunlight had left the sky by the time I climbed back on board. The three men were moving about the car, affixing to the windows yellowed strips of paper with what looked to be Chinese characters and some other squiggles, maybe Hebrew writing. I can read English well enough, and my master had been trying for years to get me to learn his people's queer pictographs, but whatever was on them slips was beyond me. Didn't matter none; I knew they was wardings of some kind or another.
The car lurched as the train begun to move again. The priest and the rabbit pulled two heavy stone tablets out of a box and dragged them to either end of the car, right in front of the doorways. I recognized the pa kua inscribed on them, the eight sacred symbols, all arrayed geometric-like around a yin-yang circled.
"Taoist magic," I muttered to Kindred, who'd been checking the vents or whatever-they-were that run across the top of the coach's walls, just above the folded-up beds. He had been anointing them with something, maybe holy water or oil or somesuch.
"Yes, ma'am. This sort of revenant can be formed after the death of a person of any creed, but it helps to use the symbols in which the dead had faith when living. Likely the poor workers whose energy was twisted in this way were believers in feng shui and other Chinese manipulations of ch'i. As much as we can, we'll use those systems to keep the revenants at bay."
"But each of you has his own particular sets of weapons, ain't that right?"
"That we do. Our ability to manipulate virtus is dependent to some degree on our own faith, and our tools reflect the roots of that faith." He touched the handle of his revolver. "Rex here, well, I… my people taught me to believe in the strength of firearms, so you could say that Rex has fallen to me as a result. There are times when that fact shames me, but I am what I am. The religious training of Pietro and Moshe has afforded them less violent means for combating chaos. Mu-pai falls between these two extremes, having both ritualistic and aggressive means of manipulating virtus."
"You keep saying that. 'Manipuating virtus.' What's virtus, anyhow? Is that like ch'i?"
"Exactly. Every culture has its own term for the energy that imbues the universe, that flows from love, understanding, creation, knowledge… all the positive actions that build rather than destroy. Your own people—the Apaches, I mean—call it diyí. The Comanche use the word puha. The Maya called it ch'ulel. But this energy, virtus, ch'i—it can be blocked, distorted. The Navajo, who call virtus hozho, term this distortion hochxo. Chaos. Entropy. Destruction. And there are forces that would marshal all the hochxo they can in order to see our world sundered to its roots. I suspect that the attraction of the k'uei to the ch'i-lin is driven by those forces."
The rabbi, dusting off his hands and beginning to deck himself out with the fancy doodads of his position, made a sound of agreement. "Yes. No other explanation for the desire to hurt a re'em—dybbukim should be reluctant to even approach such a powerful, holy creature."
"I reckon that must be so. I have had to run off a passel of them demons, and it ain't been easy."
"You used your pouch?" asked the priest, also draping yokes of cloth and rosaries and such about himself.
"Yessir. It happened by accident, really. First attack that come, my master was chanting and so forth, and I was so scared that I just clenched my hand 'round my medicine bag, closed my eyes, and begun whispering the only words in Apache I still could recall… something my mama must've sung to me when I was itty-bitty. I felt a cold, dark, angry force try to butt itself 'gainst my soul, but I kept clinging to this here pouch and saying them words till it went away. Later I found that I could put my hand on another and keep him from being attacked, as well. So it's only good for protection."
"That is sufficient," the priest told me with a smile. "We shall take charge of the rest, my child."
As if on cue, the Pullman rocked a little. Any other time, you might've sworn it was the wind, but I knew it weren't. Through the window I could see how dark forms flitted 'cross the stars, blocking them out from time to time. We were under attack.
Communicating with little gestures and glances, Lowe and Baccalini stood together at the center of the coach, back to back in the narrow aisle, lifting up their respective books of scripture. At precisely the same moment, the two begun to read, one in the harsh but angelic sounds of Hebrew, the other in cold and liquid Latin. The combination should've been frightful ugly, but it weren't. It was comforting and harmonious, and despite the looming danger outside, I felt transported for a second, hearkening back to when I first come 'cross that cave in the mountains, me all emptied out from the desert and the endless sky, faced with them two strange beings, one of them chiming like a cherub in my mind while the other went on reciting the Lotus Sutra in his transcendent voice. Even though they was wounded and far from home, I felt safe for the first time in ages.
And I felt safe now.
Kindred didn't say nothing; he just stood beside me, his hand on his pistol grip, his hair all unruly as if was glad to be out from under that slouch hat he usually had on. The coach was buffeted something fierce—the windows rattled so hard they like to pop right out—and a horrible, raspy moaning come from all 'round us, the sound of hundreds of animal souls—the human spark long gone to another loop of rebirth—clinging blindly to the night air. Those driven bits of spirits rocked that Pullman back and forth so hard I figured we'd be throwed off the track any second, the train crashing into the rocks and sand, ripping open the other car and exposing the ch'i-lin to all them groaning scraps of darkness.
I squeezed my medicine bag tight in my right hand, feeling the bits of turquoise, shell, feathers and bone that rested there since I was a wee child. Hesitating a mite, I joined my voice to the protective clamoring of the two holy men, reciting words I wasn't sure I understood no more, repeating what I heard my mama's voice croon in the deepest parts of my memory: "Gòdìt' ó' bàsxà' híljìj tc' ìndí; gòdìt' ó' bèbìk' è nà ìst ' ó tc' ìndí; hí tsát ' ùl bìt' ùl 'á lzà tc' ìndí."
Kindred pressed his face against the glass of the door that looked out on the other car, where I reckoned the two celestial masters was struggling to keep the k'uei from busting in. He shook his head and turned back to us, a harrowed look upon him. I could see through the tall window beside the door how the silhouette of the boxcar was wavering wildly.
"I'm going out there before those damned things derail the other car and kill us all. Keep her safe."
Drawing his strange pistol, Kindred stood on the stone tablet and opened the door. He stuck his head out, pointed at angle toward the sky, and fired. A blood-curdling, spectral scream split the air, and I reckoned whatever special ammunition he was using had gone and hit its target. Then he was out the door, and I could see his worn boots through the window, climbing the ladder up to the roof of the Pullman. I scooted down the aisle till I was in front of the door. From above us come shot after shot, and the howls of k'uei beat at my ears like the flailing arms of a drowning man.
The shaking of our coach stopped pretty soon; the rabbi and priest stopped their recitation, and in the silence a nerve-wracking squeal come, and I saw what seemed bits of flame leaping through the darkness. Kindred begun shooting again. The others come up beside me, and we all three saw in the muted light of muzzle fire and winter stars how the wheels of the other car come up off the track on one side, then slammed down onto the rail again in a shower of sparks and that agonizing squeal.
Baccalini looked at Loew. "I think that you should get your shofar, my friend. His gun is not the answer this time."
"Is it ever, really?" the rabbi responded as he hurried to the other end of the coach to retrieve whatever-the-heck a shofar was. He come a-running up the aisle again, unwrapping cloth from 'round an object. When he tossed aside the cloth, I recognized what he held in his hands: the horn of a ch'i-lin, shiny and ancient and hollow.
"Time to climb, Pietro. Are you going to be okay?"
Though the priest went a mite ghostly-looking at the idea of climbing atop the coach, he nodded. "Ms. Whitmore," he said, a mite shakily, "probably you should remain here."
"Probably. But I ain't going to, Father. I done faced these here things enough times that I might as well be there at the end."
Neither one of them argued with me, which was a surprise. Loew opened the door, and we stood on the small deck right outside the coach, the cold January air flapping at our clothes. Part of me wanted to cross the planking between the Pullman and the boxcar, see if I couldn't lend Masters K'ung and Sun a hand, but the black wraiths were all over it, thick as fleas, howling and writhing and pushing like a force of nature.
One by one we climbed up the iron ladder to the rooftop, where Kindred was reloading his gun. The train was chugging along at about twenty miles an hour, and the wind pulled at you like an insistent child. I crouched low, my stomach queasy with fear of falling. Kindred and Loew was exchanging words, but I just kept looking at the boxcar, yanked to and fro by them crazed revenants, and I suffered because I could not bear to think of K'ung T'u-yi dead, though I put my own enlightenment at risk by my overwhelming desire that he live. Then it come to me: it ain't the k'uei that's moving; it ain't the car that's moving—it's my mind that's moving. It weren't clear to me how that could help my master, but it eased my pain some.
Unexpectedly I saw the door on the south side of the boxcar slide open a bit, and Masters Sun and K'ung swung themselves up onto the roof. Smoke—most likely from strips of paper they'd wrote their spells on and then burned in the Taoist way—clung to their robes and curled through the opening they'd left. Each of them yielded a sword: my master one of pale wood, probably peach, lent to him by the wizard, I reckoned; and Sun Mu-pai himself one of metal that glittered with the sparks, revealing seven stars etched into its blade. They commenced to hacking away at the k'uei; my master's blows ended in a curving arc, sending the demons into clay jars that I could just make out, lined up inside the boxcar.
But when Master Sun's blade sliced into a k'uei, the demon would burst into ebony fire and disappear.
"Destroying them isn't the answer," I heard Kindred say, though I didn't know if was talking to anyone in particular. I turned a little and saw the rabbi lift the shofar to his lips. He begun to blow, and the deep, clear sound washed over me like some kind of balm, cleansing my soul and clearing my mind. Loew continued to sound the shofar in a kind of rhythm or pattern, and I could feel how it was directed at the k'uei, forcing them to release the boxcar and be still. Kindred lowered his pistol; the masters sheathed their swords. Hundreds of k'uei slowly drifted toward us, held by the music of the unicorn's horn. As they neared, I was able to make out the familiar features, etched in ghostly gray 'gainst the black miasma—the face of beasts, each with horns and claws and a single leg that tapered off into nothingness.
Loew lowered his shofar and begun to speak. "Lost souls. You are clinging to a life that is no longer yours. You are attacking those who can help you find release. Turn from this course of action, now. What you have become is an abomination."
The k'uei seethed, silent but unwilling to heed nary a word.
Kindred touched Loew's arm. "You're the Baal Shem, Moshe. Use the Name."
The rabbi sighed and nodded his agreement. "You are revenants, nefesh or p'o souls. I entreat you to release your rage and indignation so that you can be guided to your ruah, your hun, that vital, human part of you for which you so violently yearn. In service of the Creator I entreat you by his secret Name, Yehavoah. Yield!"
For a moment, the k'uei seemed to fade, their fury subdued, but some begun to snarl and hiss, and soon the entire legion of them turned all enraged and dove at the boxcar. I could hear the voices of the masters trying to reason with the demons, telling them in Chinese that they didn't want no more violence, that the k'uei should let them help ease their suffering and whatnot. The demons paid no mind; they just went swirling around the car, preparing for a final onslaught.
Then the sound of chimes filled my head, and I knew the ch'i-lin was trying to communicate with me. It sent images to me, one after another, quick and insistent. My eyes teared up as I realized what it wanted. "No," I muttered. "No, better to destroy them all."
But it was one of the five sacred animals, and when it sent feelings of disappointment into me, I begun to openly weep. It reminded me how the clinging of them k'uei to this world was the root of their suffering and that Dharma directed us to help such creatures let go and move toward enlightenment. Finally, the ch'i-lin revealed to me its own Buddha-nature, reflected in my own heart by the same. "Alright. I'll do as you ask. But these men ain't gonna like it."
I stood, bracing myself against the dizziness, and called to the demons in Chinese. "I hear you, displaced spirits. You demand to possess the ch'i-lin. You want it to surrender itself to you. And I understand why, even if you do not. This is the sacred earth beast, and your need for proper burial draws you like fireflies to a flame.
"So heed my words. The ch'i-lin cedes to you, on a single condition—each of you will fly to it and enter it, passing through its horn. Within its flesh, you will find the peace and rest that was denied to you."
Master Sun, who I never seen show any extreme of emotion, crumpled like a bereft child on hearing my offer, his head in his hands. With a dark, oily laugh, the demons went streaming into the boxcar, a river of black hate that I couldn't hardly bear to watch. Kindred shouted, lifting his gun, but I stepped in front of him.
"It's what the ch'i-lin wanted," I muttered, touching his trembling arm. "And it's what Dharma demands. You'll understand in a spell."
I felt the train begin to slow, heard the hollow piping sound that announced a coming town. As the last demon slipped through the door, we all looked at each other with somber expressions, and then we climbed down the ladder and gathered in the Pullman. K'ung T'u-yi had gotten a hold of himself again, and he very calmly asked me to explain myself. Respectfully and quietly, I did, while the others put the coach back in order.
Once the train fully stopped, we descended. It was nearly 9 pm. We'd reached Benson, Arizona. A good twenty-four miles to our south lay the town of Tombstone. All around us stretched the desert, strewn with forgotten bones.
After some instructions to the depot workers, we shuffled solemn-like to the boxcar. Master K'ung pulled open the door, and there stood the ch'i-lin, turned to clay, like the terra cotta statues I hear they used to bury the emperors of China with. A smell of cinnamon lingered in the air, mixed with the ashy stink of sated rage. When I got a whiff of that, something in me twisted. I was still just a young gal, after all. I could understand with my mind that none of this was real, that the ch'i-lin had plumb dispelled the illusion that there was a difference between it and the k'uei—when in reality the demons and the unicorn and the Hounds was all one. But in my heart, the ch'i-lin was the magical beast that had taught me how to live again, to raise me up above all them bad things I experienced as a child. And I couldn't hardly breathe because of the sorrow that squeezed my chest.
"We got to bury him," I explained to the Hounds of Heaven through gritted teeth. "We'll wrap him in hexes and spells and bury him deep in the desert sand. He holds them all inside, y'all understand. It's the only way to give them the proper rites. Over time they'll start to let go, and finally the ch'i-lin will crumble and melt into the earth, returning to where he come from.
"Do y'all understand this?" My heart was like to break at any moment. "He's gonna share in their shame at dying in this land, far from home, unable to receive the respects of their families. He'll keep them from harming the people of this nation, but that's the cost: the last ch'i-lin will lay there, in the desert, forgotten, like the bones of the railway workers."
Kindred without warning climbed up into the boxcar, put his arms around the clay unicorn, and muttered, "We will not forget." Then he wept, baring his grief while we stood watching. After a couple of minutes, the others went to him, touched his shoulders silently.
But I didn't want to comfort him. In that moment, I figured he just would have to bear the blame, even though he was never involved. His people done the crime, and he was the kind of man what would try to make amends. That, it seemed to me, was justice of a sort.
A couple hours later, we'd unloaded everything from the train, got the Hounds squared away at the hotel of this brand-new boomtown, and rented a wagon from a sleepy hostler to ride about an hour's journey to the north, where we buried the ch'i-lin deep, warding him with ever bit of magic we knew. We all stood round the grave, for that's what it was, quietly reflecting on the events of the day.
Kindred finally spoke. "What did it tell you to do next?"
I wiped my hands on my robes, but I couldn't be rid of the sensation of ground-in dirt. I imagined it would be there a long while yet. "Said for me and Master K'ung to search for another sacred animal. Said it sensed another group of masters that was likely sent after the monastery didn't hear back from the ch'i-lin's guardians. They brung a phoenix with them, a fire beast more appropriate to the task of stopping injustices done to the living. Whatever forces stopped our team's mission ain't gonna hesitate to interfere with theirs. So Master K'ung and me, we're gonna have to bid y'all a fair adieu. We're heading south, to Mexico."
"Did it say anything about us?"
I felt Kindred's gaze search my face, but I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, afraid of seeing his Buddha-nature and wanting to show him compassion. "Just that y'all should do as your conscience tells y'all."
Kindred looked questioningly at his three companions, and each of them made a sign of agreeing to whatever silent request he was making. He slung his spade over his shoulder and adjusted his slouch hat a little more snug on his head.
"In that case, though we've been heading steadily west, I think it's time we went north. It's my understanding that Chinese workers in gold and silver mines are being mistreated up in those territories. Though it's not completely our line of work, there is a debt to be paid here. Perhaps we can, uh, lessen the task your phoenix needs to do. At the very least, we will protect whomever we can."
We rode back to Benson together, and at the hostler's we shook hands and embraced. Kindred's hug was gentle, and he whispered two words close to my ear: "I understand." As we pulled apart, I give him a little smile, just to let him know that with time my sadness would fade. If we met up again to fight off the dark, I reckoned, we needed to be on decent terms.
Finally the Hounds walked away, toward the hotel, and Master K'ung and me, after buying a pair of mares from the hostler—who liked our gold more than he disliked our race—rode south into the deepening night.
As we all went our separate ways, it come to me in a flash: they wasn't separate ways at all. We are all walking the same path, though it ain't some road scored in earth or sky or sea. It's the path of easing suffering, both ours and that of others, and we walk it till ever creature stands free of pain and lies, in unity with truth and peace, at last enlightened and made whole.
Ramayana, Volume 1


They say hermaphrodites (cross between male and female) never lose there rack or come out of velvet, which could be why this one is still supporting a full velvet rack in November. What a great looking deer!
That's a what I call a mega-deer. Definitely one I'd take.
Thats a wierd one for sure.
That's so weird, i have never seen this before.


Railay Bay is a small peninsula located between the city of Krabi and Ao Nang. Railay Beach is accessible only by boat due to the high limestone cliffs cutting off mainland access. These cliffs attract rock climbers from all over the world, but the area is also popular due to its beautiful beaches and quiet relaxing atmosphere. Accommodation ranges from inexpensive bungalows popular with backpackers and climbers, to the renowned jet-set resort of Rayavadee. The four main areas of Railay consist of Pranang, West Railay, East Railay and Tonsai, with Tonsai catering more to climbers.
Railay Beach was not severely affected by the tsunami of December 26, 2004.
East Railay Bay is the docking point for boats arriving from Krabi. The East Beach is primarily covered in dense mangrove which is unsuitable for swimming.
West Railay Bay connected to the East side by paths through the large resorts or by trails through thin jungle cover -- is the primary destination for beach-goers in Railay. The beach, as pictured in the panorama below, is flanked by high limestone cliffs on either side. Long-tail boats are available to hire for transport to Ao Nang, 10 minutes north of Railay. In addition, ferries departing Railay for Koh Phi Phi and points west including Phuket depart from the West beach. The focal point of West Railay Beach is centered on a short promenade (walking street) lined with restaurants and shops.
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Seaman's Maintenance Rate to Include Seaman's Full Mortgage Expense
Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals Boldly Goes Where No Court Has Gone Before on the Issue of a Seaman's Maintenance Rate Including Seaman's Full Mortgage Expense
In HALL and STUART v NOBLE DRILLING (U.S.)INC.; NOBLE DRILLING SERVICES, INC., 2001 U.S. App. LEXIS 2149 (C.A. 5th Circuit) February 14, 2001, a landmark appellate decision was handed down on the issue of maintenance including a seaman's full mortgage payment.
Both Hall and Stuart worked on offshore rigs when they were injured. Suits were filed which included claims for maintenance. The cases were consolidated for a trial on the issue of the daily maintenance rate. Maintenance is money that an injured seaman receives for food and shelter until the point of maximum medical improvement is declared.
Both Hall and Stuart lived with their families and both were obligated to pay the full mortgages for their houses. The shipping companies argued that the mortgage payments should be prorated with the other family members and only that portion applying to the seaman included in the maintenance rate. The appellate court rejected this position and reasoned that would result in a seaman who lived alone in a large home getting one hundred percent of his mortgage but that a seaman who lived with family in a small home and for whom prorating was applied receiving much less even though the smaller home had a much smaller mortgage than the larger home.
Also the appellate court indicated that prorating would cause problems if a new child was born or part of the family moved out. Different prorating would have to be done based on the number of people in the house, which would add to the difficulty in establishing a daily maintenance rate.
The appellate court noted that if the full mortgage payment were not paid the seaman would lose his house.
The court in defining lodging stated. "Lodging" includes expenses "necessary to the provision of habitable housing," such as heat, electricity, home insurance, and real estate taxes…. Other expenses, such as telephone service, clothing, toiletries, and travel, are not part of maintenance."
Therefore the maintenance rate could include some other items besides the mortgage payment.
The court noted that prorating might be appropriate in the following circumstances:
"Costs of heat, electricity, and water, to the extent such expenses vary with the number of people in the household, can be prorated. But to the extent that additional family members do not increase a seaman' s expenses, proration would not be appropriate. For example, the costs of heating a home may be lower when more people occupy the same space."
All in all, this is a very good decision for seaman. Unfortunately it does not apply in those circumstances where there is a union and a collective bargaining agreement. These collective bargaining agreements typically limit maintenance to $8 a day. This is a totally unreasonable amount of money and is carried over from rates that were agreed to in the 1950's.
Injured seaman should gather up their housing expenses including mortgage payments, electricity, water, gas, insurance, property taxes and submit them to their employer. The employers should look into whether or not these expenses are increased to the presence of other family members.
Michael Winkleman and his firm were First Class in handling my case. Professional and persistent, they get the job done!
Rick Lamb


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U.S. and El Salvador sign asylum deal
President Trump talks with reporters as he tours a section of the southern border wall with acting Homeland Secretary Kevin McAleenan, left, in Otay Mesa, Calif., on Wednesday.
(Evan Vucci / Associated Press)
By Molly O'TooleStaff Writer
The U.S. signed an asylum agreement Friday with El Salvador, one of the world's most violent countries. American and Salvadoran officials described the deal as shoring up El Salvador's own asylum system and its capacity to provide for its citizens, in turn discouraging them from migrating.
While the specifics of the agreement remain unknown, acting Homeland Security Secretary Kevin McAleenan said in a press conference Friday "one potential use" is to limit asylum seekers passing through El Salvador from claiming asylum in the United States. He offered no timeline.
But with most asylum seekers traveling north to the U.S. border going around El Salvador — seeking to avoid the small country where gang violence, poverty and corruption are pervasive — any asylum deal could have a limited impact on reducing overall migration to the United States.
In the last five years, El Salvador's homicide rate has ranked among the highest in the world, though it has recently trended down. U.S. officials and experts, as well as newly-elected Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele, have credited the reduction in violence in El Salvador for contributing to a drop in the numbers of Salvadoran migrants stopped at the U.S.-Mexico border or claiming asylum in the U.S. In recent years, more migrants have come from Honduras and Guatemala, El Salvador's Northern Triangle neighbors.
As of August, U.S. border officials this year have apprehended 86,312 Salvadorans at the U.S. southern border, compared with 258,635 Guatemalans and 244,928 Hondurans.
McAleenan praised Bukele's administration Friday, saying the number of Salvadoran migrants reaching the U.S. southern border has dropped more than 62% since Bukele took office in June.
"Bukele has stated he intends to end forced migration in his term," McAleenan said. "El Salvador has stepped forward and made good on those efforts."
Salvadoran official Alexandra Hill Tinoco, who signed the agreement sitting next to McAleenan and behind flags of El Salvador and the U.S., stressed that El Salvador is responsible for outward migration. An official statement from the Salvadoran government remained vague on what the deal would do.
"El Salvador has not been able to give our people enough security or opportunity so they can stay and thrive in El Salvador," Hill Tinoco said.
Later, seeming to indirectly address the heated rhetoric that President Trump has used toward migrants, she added, "sometimes we lose the concept that there are human beings behind this."
The agreement is the latest in a long-running effort by the Trump administration to restrict migrants' access to asylum in the United States and force Central Americans in particular to seek refuge elsewhere.
The deal is likely to be modeled on others either signed or sought with Guatemala, Honduras, Panama and other countries in Central or South America that serve as the primary countries of origin or transit for migrants from around the world seeking asylum in the U.S.
Jan Egeland, secretary general of the Norwegian Refugee Council, one of the world's largest humanitarian organizations, with a huge presence in Venezuela, Colombia and Central America, said Thursday ahead of a trip to El Salvador and Honduras that the Trump administration's approach "defies logic." The council is planning on setting up a series of shelters along the primary migration routes north to the U.S.
"If the United States declares safe havens in [Central American] countries, it will be the end of the ancient symbol of civilization: the rule of asylum," Egeland said, emphasizing that Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador are not safe. "This will encourage a new wave of boat refugees. People who take a boat to get to California or Texas. Imagine it."
Bukele, a millennial millionaire elected as an outsider to the two main political parties that have dominated El Salvador in the decades since its civil war ended, largely has been reluctant to criticize Trump.
In recent months, Bukele has said El Salvador should do more to create economic opportunities and keep Salvadorans from leaving, and indicated he would be open to working with Washington on migration. El Salvador's economy relies heavily on remittances from the United States, where more than 2.3 million Salvadorans live — many in Los Angeles.
"We can send all the blame to any government we like," Bukele said in July. "We can say President Trump's policies are wrong. We can say Mexico's policies are wrong. But what about our blame?"
In late July, McAleenan and a Guatemalan counterpart signed a similar agreement in the Oval Office, with Trump looking on. That agreement has yet to be formally authorized by Guatemala or implemented by the U.S. Guatemala's highest court previously ruled that the country's president could not sign such an agreement.
Eric Schwartz, president of Refugees International, criticized the agreements Friday, calling them "cynical and absurd."
"Where will they declare a haven for asylum seekers next? Syria? North Korea?" Schwartz said. "El Salvador is in no way safe for asylum seekers. Neither is Guatemala nor Honduras."
Despite threats from Trump, Mexican officials have been adamant that they will not enter into a "safe third country"-type agreement with the U.S., which would require that any migrant that passes through Mexico without claiming asylum there first be rendered ineligible to seek asylum in the United States.
Mexican officials argue it is unnecessary. They say they have stepped-up enforcement, including the deployment of National Guard units to stop migrants at its southern border with Guatemala and its northern border with the U.S. In addition, Mexico has cooperated with the Trump administration's "Remain in Mexico" policy, which has forced more than 40,000 asylum seekers to wait in dangerous Mexican border cities as their cases proceed in the U.S.
Such asylum agreements with individual countries may not matter due to a U.S. Supreme Court ruling last week allowing the Trump administration to move forward on implementing a policy that would effectively end asylum at the U.S. southern border. While not a final ruling, Trump officials can now bar almost any migrant who does not seek asylum in another country first before seeking asylum at the U.S.-Mexico border.
The president trumpeted the ruling shortly after, tweeting, "BIG United States Supreme Court WIN for the Border on Asylum!"
Egeland, of the Norwegian Refugee Council, argued that Trump's policies would not stop outward migration from Central America, but fuel it.
"The one nation on Earth who should be invested in this is the United States. ... This is your neighborhood," Egeland said. "If hope leaves the region, the young people will run after it."
Staff writer Tracy Wilkinson contributed reporting from Washington, and Patrick McDonnell from Mexico City. The Associated Press contributed reporting.
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Black asylum seekers say Trump administration ramps up deportations by force, fraud
ICE uses physical abuse, solitary confinement and false documents to force Black and African asylum seekers onto 'death planes'
U.S. appeals court rejects Trump appeal over Pennsylvania race
Biden picks Alejandro Mayorkas for Homeland Security secretary
Biden picks California attorney Alejandro Mayorkas to lead the Homeland Security department. He would be the first Latino to hold the post
Oversight committee to subpoena border agency over violent, bigoted social media posts
The House Oversight committee is subpoenaing Customs and Border Protection to hand over records in investigation into social media scandal
Supreme Court agrees to rule on Trump's immigration policies, but not until next year
Trump's immigration policies were declared illegal by lower courts but were temporarily cleared to go forward by the Supreme Court.
Trump's immigration changes will affect California long after he's gone
Even after Trump stops hitting his favorite punching bag, California will feel the impact of his immigration restrictions
U.S. border agency said it 'rescued' a Honduran woman and newborn. Then it separated them and detained her
Advocates say Border Patrol agents took the mom from the hospital and told her they'd send her back to Mexico alone
Exiled for 12 years, deported veteran finally wins U.S. citizenship
Roman Sabal, a U.S. Marine Corps veteran originally from Belize, is now living in Los Angeles after more than a decade stuck outside of the United States
Refugee resettlement agency releases proposal for Biden to end 'Remain in Mexico' program
The report is the latest in a growing campaign from immigrant and human rights advocates to pressure the Biden administration to move swiftly
Annual Karen New Year celebration in San Diego will be available virtually
San Diego is home to roughly 2,000 Karen refugees, according to the Karen Organization of San Diego
US judge blocks Trump administration's sweeping asylum rules
The 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld a federal judge's ruling that halted Trump administration policy that gave state and local governments right to refuse to resettle refugees
Human rights report blasts pandemic policies that send asylum seekers back to danger
Human Rights First found that many asylum seekers with strong cases for protection have been sent back to the harms that they fled without any meaningful chance to ask the United States for refuge.
Inspection of Otay Mesa Detention Center finds deficiencies, including medical care
The report cites issues related to psychiatric medication for immigration detainees with mental health conditions among the deficiencies
New state rules for schools force some San Diego districts to cancel reopening dates
California just toughened the rules affecting how and when schools can reopen and offer in-person instruction.
South Korea's president has urged the incoming Biden administration to build upon the achievements and learn from the failures of President Donald Trump's diplomatic engagement with North Korea


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South Cerney Golf Course, near Cirencester, Gloucestershire, will host the inaugural Breakthrough Breast Cancer Annual Charity Golf Day on Friday, July 16.
Breakthrough Breast Cancer is the UK's leading charity devoted to fighting breast cancer through research, campaigning and education.
The competition will be an 18-hole fourball-betterball stableford, along with a nearest the pin and longest drive competition.
The charirty golf day, hosted on the 6,119-yard course, is open to all golfers with a valid CONGU handicap at an entry fee of £60 per pair. Pairs can be either ladies or gentlemen but not mixed doubles. There is a maximum handicap allowance of 24 for Men and 32 for Ladies, but players with higher handicaps are also given the opportunity to play off 24 or 32.
The entry fee also covers a bacon role and coffee on arrival, as well as a buffet meal. Starting times will be from 9am to 1pm, with the prize-giving approximated for 6pm, after a raffle and auction.
Entry forms and sponsorship details can be obtained from Amanda Homan, Green Cotswold, Breakthrough Breast Cancer, Ewenfield Farm Cottage, Ewen, Cirencester, Gloucestershire, GL7 6PZ or through emailing to amanda@cotswoldbreakthrough.org.uk.
Gavin Anderson is also available to provide entry administration and can be contacted at: Catering & Events Manager, South Cerney Golf Course, Northmoor Lane, South Cerney, Cirencester, Gloucestershire, GL7 5QD or by email on admin@southcerneygolfcourse.co.uk.


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Big News on the WWE WrestleMania 35 Main Event
March 25th, 2019 Marc Middleton WWE News 0 comments
WWE has confirmed that the RAW Women's Title Triple Threat between champion Ronda Rousey, Becky Lynch and Charlotte Flair will be the main event of WrestleMania 35.
Below is the full announcement on the first-ever women's WrestleMania main event:
WrestleMania to feature first-ever women's main event
For the first time in WWE history, a women's match will be the main event of WrestleMania as the Raw Women's Championship Match featuring Ronda Rousey vs. Charlotte Flair vs. Becky Lynch will take place on Sunday, April 7, in front of a capacity crowd at MetLife Stadium and streaming live on WWE Network around the world.
Ronda Rousey is the current Raw Women's Champion, Olympic medalist, the first female UFC Champion and the first woman to be inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame. She is also an actress and New York Times bestselling author. Charlotte Flair is a seven-time Champion in WWE, a former Division 1 volleyball player, philanthropist and author. She is the daughter of two-time WWE Hall of Famer Ric Flair. Becky Lynch is the 2019 Women's Royal Rumble winner, a two-time SmackDown Women's Champion and was named Wrestler of the Year by both Sports Illustrated and CBS Sports in 2018. She was also the first woman ever to top ESPN's WWE Power Rankings.
At WrestleMania 32 in 2016, WWE re-branded the Divas Division the Women's Division and unveiled a new Women's Championship title. Since that time, the women's evolution has placed a greater spotlight on WWE's female Superstars, including more prominent storylines and deeper character development that showcases their athleticism, charisma and star power.
Last October, WWE held it's first-ever all-women's pay-per-view event, Evolution, in front of a sold-crowd and millions more watching on WWE Network.
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