Economic Analysis Of The Starbucks Corporation Essay

Economic Analysis of the Starbucks Corporation Nothing like the fresh scent of brewed coffee in the morning – â€Å"Starbucks† a well-known coffee house that is still growing and expanding their operations today is considered the number one specialty coffee retailer around the world and abroad. Therefore, the supply and demand for coffee is on the incline and is regarded as one of the most rapid growing organizations in the world. According to the National Coffee Association, adults between the ages of 18 and 39 are more likely to purchase coffee out-of-home, then older consumers (2016). Even coffee statistics conducted in 2016 indicates â€Å"50% of the population, equivalent to 150 million Americans, drink espresso, cappuccino, latte, iced/cold coffee† (E-Imports, 2016). Other statistics numbers show that an estimated of total Americans consuming coffee would be up by 1.5% and specialty coffee up from 20% in this year alone. Even the global consumption will increase by 12% over the next years. Therefore, a key question is how will the â€Å"law of demand† predict how the consumers will behave (Lorenzetti, 2016)? Namely, will the higher demand for coffee beans impact what the consumer at Starbucks will pay for a cup of coffee? Therefore, companies such as Starbucks should analyze and understand the microeconomic model to get a clear picture of the price elasticity, cost to produce, and the overall market to make the most effective business decisions and recommendations that will have anShow MoreRelatedEconomic Analysis Of Starbucks Corporation. It’S Hard To1442 Words   |  6 PagesEconomic Analysis of Starbucks Corporation It’s hard to drive the street these days and not see a Starbuck’s coffee house sitting on a corner with cars lined up in the drive-thru or consumers gathering in their cafà © to socialize. This has been the scene since the first Starbucks was opened in 1971. Since then, Howard Schultz, chairman and CEO, has embarked on a vision to bring Italian coffeehouse traditions back to the United States. Starbucks mission statement is simple, â€Å"to inspire and nurtureRead MoreAcc 230 Final Starbucks Financial Analysis Paper1141 Words   |  5 PagesStarbucks Financial Analysis Author Axia College of University of Phoenix Starbucks Financial Analysis Starbucks Coffee originated in 1971 as a coffee and tea cafà © opening in a small neighborhood of Seattle, Washington (Starbucks Corporation, 2010). Starbucks continued its service for Seattle residents for a decade when the new director of retail operations and marketing, Howard Shultz, decided to make some beneficial changes to the company. After two years of employment Howard Shultz decidedRead MoreEssay about Financial Analysis of Starbucks Corporation1332 Words   |  6 PagesStarbucks Corporation Company Analysis by Sara Ciolli Gordon Individual Project: Starbucks Corporation Company Analysis by Sara Ciolli Gordon I. Company Description II. Core Competencies of the Starbucks Corporation III. Description of Starbucks Corporation’s Key Management Team IV. Financial Analysis of Balance Sheet and Income Sheet of Starbucks Corporation V. Analysis of Financing Philosophy and Current Financial Situation VI. Read MoreThe Secret of Starbucks’ Success in China1180 Words   |  5 PagesArticle Review and Analysis ----The Secret of Starbucks’ Success in China The current event article I found tells about the successful marketing strategies that the Starbucks Corporation takes to enter into the market of China, and simultaneously the problems and difficulties it has in the process of market expanding. The Starbucks Corporation is the global leader in specialty coffee consumption. Arising almost overnight from a market in Seattle, Washington, the company today provides quality premiumRead MorePurpose of a SWOT Analysis1254 Words   |  6 Pagesï » ¿PURPOSE OF A SWOT ANALYSIS 1 The Purpose of a SWOT Analysis Charles Anderson Joyner III Grantham University PURPOSE OF A SWOT ANALYSIS 2 Abstract Every business to include the largest ones that control their areas of industry--has a limited supply of manpower, productionRead MoreStarbuck’s Strategy and Internal Initiatives to Return to Profitable Growth1299 Words   |  6 PagesBowker, opened Starbucks Coffee, Team, and Spice in Seattle, Washington. They were inspired by the success of Peet’s Coffee and Tea in Berkeley, California. However, they focused on selling high-quality whole beans and coffee products, making the store was consistently profitable. By 1980, Starbucks had four locations in the Seattle area. In 1981, Howard Schultz, vice president and general manager of U.S. operations for a Swedish maker of coffee and kitchen equipment, visited Starbucks and was immediatelyRead MoreStarbucks Risk Management Essay1110 Words   |  5 PagesStarbucks Risk Management FIN 415 March 25, 2013 Starbucks Risk Management In this documentation Team B will discuss different risk management benefits and techniques, and how companies use these benefits and techniques to further their financial goals and prevent future losses. There are two distinct risk management benefits categories: hard and soft. Hard risk management benefits are contingencies, decisions, control, and statistics. Hard benefits support the strategic business planningRead MoreStarbuckss Market Strategy For Starbucks1415 Words   |  6 PagesStarbucks Corporation is a coffeehouse chain that began in Seattle in 1971. Since that time, Starbucks operations have grown; there are now over 22,000 retail stores throughout 67 countries. Starbucks strives to offer customers a comfortable, â€Å"home-like† environment while remaining conscious of ethical behaviors and social responsibility. It can be argued that Starbucks dominates the coffeehouse market, and much of this may be due to a grand strategy with a focus on growth. Using a g rowth strategyRead MoreTaking a Look at Starbucks Coffee943 Words   |  4 PagesThe first Starbucks Coffee, Tea and Spice store was opened in 1971 in Pikes Place Market in Seattle by three academics; History teacher, English teacher and writer Zev Siegel, Jerry Baldwin and Gordon Bowker respectively. Apparently the name Starbucks came from Moby Dick, an American classic novel about the whaling industry in the nineteenth century, by Herman Melville. Instead of selling the drink that they are famous for today, Sarbucks initially only sold coffee making equipment and coffee beansRead MoreStarbucks Corporation1716 Words   |  7 PagesStarbucks Corporation By Oybek Salimov Outline Introduction†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦3 1. Background of the company†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦..4 2. Starbucks’s expansion.†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦..4 3. Risks associated with expansion†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦6 4. Capital structure of the company†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦...†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦7 Conclusion†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ 9 Reference †¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦10 Appendix †¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ 11 Introduction Globalization

Interview About A Young Homosexual Man From Raleigh, North...

For my theory application assignment I chose to interview a young homosexual man from Raleigh, North Carolina. The reason I selected this particular individual is my desire to understand their population more. As a future social worker, I realize that I need to be able to help people from diverse backgrounds other than my own. Social work is a public trust, and the practice of social work in the public arena requires a clear distinction between one’s personal moral concerns and the social work values of client determination and respect for diversity. (Hancock, 2008, pg.262) I called my client asking if I could interview him for the assignment he said he would be glad to help me with whatever I needed. We both agreed a partial telephone interview then email interview would work best since our schedules were conflicted in meeting in person. Throughout my assessment I will explain how my client has handled oppression and discrimination as well as how the concepts of several the ories can be applied to his life. The first perspective I used to assess my client was the strengths perspective. This orientation focuses on client resources, capabilities, knowledge, abilities, motivations, experiences, intelligence, and other positive qualities that can be put to use to solve problems and pursue positive changes. (Zastrow, 2013, pg.13) If I had to describe my client these are a few of the words I would use: stoic, determined, rugged, hardworking, and he is honest as a judge. WhenShow MoreRelatedAmerican Holidays11778 Words   |  48 Pagesbeautify your towns or to teach about protecting our forests, but in some states it is a legal holiday. Halloween Halloween is celebrated on October 31st. â€Å"the observances connected with Halloween are thought to have originated among the ancient Druids, who believed that on that evening, Saman, the lord of the dead, called forth hosts of evil spirits.† (Encarta 96) In the United States you will find many children dressed in costumes on Halloween. They walk from door to door collecting candy. The

Soy and Cancer free essay sample

A proposal for a research study to examine the the effects of soy based diets for cows that will be consumed by humans. This paper discusses the role of soybean consumption in cancer prevention. A review of the relevant literature on the anti carcinogenic activity of soybeans is presented. A proposal for a research study to determine the effects on cancer prevention of providing a soy-rich diet for cattle used for human consumption is offered. Soybeans are used for human consumption as well as animal consumption. It is put through a heat process so that the nutritional value is enhanced. The so-called protease inhibitors have received the most attention in this regard and have been shown to exert their antinutritional effect in the short term by causing pancreatic hypertrophy and hyperplasia in the rat, the underlying cause for an inhibition of growth in these animals(Liener, 2000). The prolonged feeding of raw soy flour or an enriched trypsin inhibitor fraction from soybeans to rats results in the development of hyperplastic and neoplastic nodules of the pancreas, including carcinomas(Liener, 2000). We will write a custom essay sample on Soy and Cancer or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page It should be emphasized that all of these adverse effects are seen when protease inhibitors are present in relatively high concentrations in the diet and may be completely unrelated to the anti-carcinogenic effects seen at low concentrations of the Bowman-Birk inhibitor(Liener, 2000).

The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires Review Essay Example

The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires Review Paper Essay on The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires I read the book and decided to evaluate the product, BUT .. After these reviews decided to write podrobney.Uvazhaemye vyshechitaemye writers (otzyvateli), and you work to read? From your comments, I concluded that I enjoy philosophers, such as DMI? Trier Serge? Evich Merezhko? vsky (2 (14) August 1865 (18,650,814), St. Petersburg, Russian empire December 9, 1941, Paris, France) Russian writer, poet, critic, translator, historian and religious philosopher, social activist. He was married to Zinaida. Bright representative of the Silver Age, one of the founders of Russian symbolism. Repeatedly nominated for the Nobel Prize for literature, but it has not received. Next, Vasily Rozanov was born in Vetluga Kostroma province in a large family of an official of the Forestry Department Vasily Fedorovich Rozanov (18221861). Early he lost his parents, brought up his elder brother Nikolai (18471894). In 1870 he moved with his brothers in Simbirsk, where his brother taught at school. . (Source -Vikipediya) .mozhet something I do not understand, but that YOU these smart-intellectual brought here Forward to the song on And for those who do not read this book I write: I I loved it! . and a communal apartment (where I lived at the time, a description of a cool !!!))), which have a friend for life and from which can not escape it))) (names will not write, or even intellectuals will not sleep (ihar 23 hours 11 minutes ago #? I vacation Llosa and Hesse usually read We will write a custom essay sample on The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires Review specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now We will write a custom essay sample on The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires Review specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer We will write a custom essay sample on The squirrel in a wheel, or a list of its desires Review specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer ), there are some very interesting psychological factors, how to cope with the 5-liter tney daughter (oh, you knew before) Very positive work, vitally important and a real good sense of humor (and lovers of culinary filosfy knig- recommend Reading 55 volumes of Lenin (unless of course you know who it is, but you can not know !!!!!!)

Is ACT Writing Important Expert Guide

Is ACT Writing Important Expert Guide SAT / ACT Prep Online Guides and Tips The Writing portion of the ACT has always been an optional portion of the exam. However, it was significantly revised in fall 2015 with the aim of better testing the kinds of analytical writing skills that are necessary for college work. Some colleges require or recommend that students take it for their application, and others don’t. With the recent revision of the SAT, the SAT Essay portion has also become optional. In light of this change, many colleges are changing their admissions policies and no longer requiring or recommending the SAT Essay or the ACT Writing section.But what does this whirlwind of change mean for you? Is the optional ACT Writing section still important? In this article I’ll break it down. First I’ll give a brief of overview of the ACT writing section and how it’s scored, which colleges require ACT Plus Writing, why schools require the Writing section and how they use it, and why other schools won’t require the Writing section going forward. Finally I’ll provide guidance on how to figure out if the ACT Writing section is important for you. ACT Writing: a Brief Overview On the ACT Writing section, you’ll be presented with an issue and then three perspectives on that issue. You then have 40 minutes to write a unified essay that addresses the following two tasks: Present and support your own opinion on the issue Explain how your opinion and at least one of the other three perspectives are related. The scoring system for the resulting essay is fairly complex. Two graders score your essay in 4 domains from 1-6, giving you a total potential score of 12 in each domain. Your scores between the four domains are then averaged to get your overall score from 2-12. For more on ACT Writing scoring, see our complete breakdown. It’s important to note that your score on the Writing section does not affect your composite score. However, it is a part of your English-Language Arts subscore, for which your English, Reading, and Writing scores (scaled to a 1-36 score range to calculate the ELA score) are averaged and rounded to the nearest whole number. The Writing section will also cost you an extra $16-17. It's a little-known fact that the first step in grading your ACT essay is solving an elaborate maze. Who Requires ACT Plus Writing? Most (over two-thirds) of colleges will not require the ACT Writing section for applicants in 2017 and beyond.However, there are quite few institutions that will continue to require it for applicants, especially amongelite-tier schools. The Ivy League is notably divided on the issue, with half requiring the ACT Writing section (Harvard, Princeton, Dartmouth, Yale) and half leaving it optional (Columbia, Cornell, University of Pennsylvania, Brown). Unfortunately, the ACT’s database of schools’ Writing requirements is very out-of-date and reports many schools as requiring the essay that have in fact dropped the requirement for 2017 applicants. For the most up-to-date information on a school’s position on the ACT plus Writing, check a school’s admissions website. Those schools that do require Writing have gone on the record with specific reasons for doing so. I’ll break those down in the next section. Why Do Schools Require the ACT Plus Writing? You may be curious about why some schools require the Writing section of the ACT in light of the fact that so many schools have made it completely optional.Based on public statements from school officials, there seem to be three main reasons why schools require the ACT’s optional Writing section: Consistency Many schools feel that the revised SAT essay is much better at testing the kinds of analytical skills important for college writing. For those schools that feel the SAT essay is worthwhile, it makes sense for them to also require the ACT’s Writing section for the sake of consistency. More Information Is Better Some college admissions offices have the philosophy that all of the information they can get is useful in evaluating applicants. The Writing section provides another data point on a student’s language and writing skills in addition to transcripts and admissions essays. Thus, schools that value having all the information that it is conceivably possible to obtain about a student tend to require ACT Writing. See Your Writing Skills Under Pressure The ACT Writing section gives admissions officers a unique chance to see how you use your analytical writing skills under time pressure. Your college admissions essays are polished and tightly edited pieces of writing, while your ACT Writing efforts will be much more raw and unvarnished. Again, it’s another data point for schools. The infamous Tower of Time Pressure. These reasons provide some insight as to why schools require ACT Writing- but how do they use your scores? How Do Schools Use ACT Plus Writing? If you are applying to schools that require ACT Writing, it’s important to know how they use it in evaluating your application. Is it a critical piece, a bit of extra fluff, or something in between? I spoke on the phone to admissions officers at different schools about how they use the ACT’s Writing section. Some themes emerged: Admissions officers feel that the ACT Plus Writing gives a more â€Å"rounded† picture of an applicant’s skills than the ACT without Writing. Essentially, they value having the additional information about an applicant’s language skills as part of their standardized test scores. However, they also stress that students are evaluated holistically, and their primary concern would be if a student’s essay score seemed inconsistent with the student’s other writing-based application materials. For example, if your application essay was phenomenal and you got straight-As in your English classes but then a overall score of 5/12 on the essay, that would be a red flag that something bizarre was going on. The general consensus is that schools do really look at the score, but it’s not a super-important part of the application unless the score seems inconsistent with an applicant’s other qualifications.However, your best bet if you are interested in a given school that requires the Writing section and you want to know exactly how they use it to evaluate applicants is to call the admissions office and ask. It’s also worth (re)stating that except for in the most selective tier of institutions, schools that require the ACT Writing section are in the minority. Most schools won’t require or even recommend the new optional essay, and they have their own reasons for doing so. UC Berkeleydoes require the ACT plus Writing. Why Don't Schools Require the ACT Plus Writing? There are three main reasons that schools have given for not requiring the ACT Writing section going forward: Consistency When the essay portion of the SAT was required, it made sense for schools to require the optional Writing section of the ACT for consistencies’ sake. Now that the SAT essay is optional, however, schools can re-evaluate their stance on the issue. Schools that have decided to not require the optional SAT essay have, in general, also removed their ACT Writing requirement to preserve consistency in testing guidelines between the two tests." The Writing Section Is Redundant Some schools feel that they already have sufficient evidence of an applicant’s writing capability through application essays and student transcripts in English. This is particularly true at institutions where multiple essays are required as part of the application. Requiring the ACT Writing Is a Burden to Underprivileged Students Some schools are concerned that the extra cost associated with the Writing section may be a deterrent to underprivileged students. University of Pennsylvania has stated that minority and first-generation college applicants are least likely to have a â€Å"complete testing profile.† They’ve eliminated the ACT Writing requirement in the hopes of attracting a more diverse applicant pool. A diverse applicant pool as represented by these decorative squashes. Is the ACT Writing Section Important for You? I’ve gone over how and why schools will require or not require the ACT Writing section going forward. But how does this affect you? Should I Take the ACT Plus Writing? This comes down primarily to whether or not you are applying to schools that require or recommend the ACT Writing Section. (I generally err on the side of treating recommendations as nicely-worded requirements in the college application process.) If you don’t take the ACT Writing section and later realize you need it, you will unfortunately have to retake the entire exam! So if there is even a chance you might be interested in a school that does require/recommend the Writing section, you should take it. This is especially salient if you are applying to top-tier schools, as about half of them require the ACT Writing section. If you know for certain that you are definitively not interested in a single school that requires or recommends the Writing section, go ahead and skip it. But only if you know you won’t change your mind! Another note here is that if you are very good at timed analytical essay-writing, you might also want to take the Writing section even if you are only applying to schools where it is optional. A stellar score will look good on your application even if it’s not required- in fact, it will show that you took some initiative. How Important Is My Score? The answer to this question is not completely clear-cut, as it does depend on the schools to which you are applying. What’s most important in general is that your Writing score is consistent with your other test scores. It certainly doesn’t have to be a perfect correlation- if you get a 36 for your composite and a 9/12 on writing, I wouldn’t stress too much. But if you have a 30 composite and an 6/12 on the essay, that may cause concern among admissions officers that you aren’t ready for college-level writing. How Can I Succeed on the ACT Writing Section? If you do need to take the Writing section, you can definitely learn the skills necessary to do well. Here are some general tips: Take a few minutes to plan out your essay before you start writing it! Be sure to discuss at least two of the perspectives in your essay, and definitely make your own opinion clear. Support all of the points you make with specific examples. Make sure your essay is logically organized and has an introduction and a conclusion. Write more than a page! For more on how to hit ACT Writing out of the park, see our step- by-step guide to writing an ACT essay, 15 tips to raise your essay score, or our guide to a perfect essay score. These kittens are proud of you! Key Takeaways Because the SAT has made the essay section of the exam optional, schools are taking the time to reevaluate their requirements for the ACT Writing section as well. Many schools have dropped the requirement entirely. However, elite-tier institutions are divided on the issue, with some continuing to require the Writing section and others dropping it. For those schools that do require the Writing section, it may not be clear exactly how they use it in evaluating your application. The general consensus among admissions officers I spoke to was that the Writing score provided valuable information, but that it was mostly used to check for consistency in an applicant’s language skills. In evaluating whether the ACT Writing section is important for you, consider the following: Are you applying to schools that recommend or require the ACT Writing section? Then take the ACT Plus Writing. Are you not sure where you’re applying yet? Take the ACT Plus Writing, because otherwise if you end up needing it later you will have to sit for the whole exam again. If you are taking the Writing section, how important is your score? Well, it’s most important that your score is generally consistent with the rest of your test scores and application profile. But the good news is that it’s very possible to learn how to write an excellent ACT essay. My final word, then, would be don’t ignore the Writing section and definitely prepare for it if you’re going to take it, but don’t stress too much about getting a perfect score. Nothing is truly perfect...except this puppy. What's Next? Wondering about the SAT essay? See our expert guide on the importance of the SAT essay. If you're not surehow important the ACT is for college admissions, see our guide. Prepping for the ACT? See our collection of free ACT practice tests, our comprehensive list of ACT guides, and our total guide to ACT test day. Want to improve your ACT score by 4 points? Check out our best-in-class online ACT prep program. We guarantee your money back if you don't improve your ACT score by 4 points or more. Our program is entirely online, and it customizes what you study to your strengths and weaknesses. If you liked this ACT Writing lesson, you'll love our program.Along with more detailed lessons, you'll get your ACT essays hand-graded by a master instructor who will give you customized feedback on how you can improve. We'll also give you a step-by-step program to follow so you'll never be confused about what to study next. Check out our 5-day free trial:

New ending for a rose of emily Essays - A Rose For Emily

New ending for a rose of emily Essays - A Rose For Emily New ending for a rose of emily New ending for ?A Rose of Emily? Each day we saw the Negro become gray and withered, walking with a slight limp to his left side, going in and out with the market basket. He was a sad looking soul and it was not surprising when we saw less of him. Two years had passed and the Negro man would only make it to the market about once a week. We had passed by Mrs. Emily's house a few times and noticed a small garden in the backyard. It was believed that the old Negro had grown too weak to walk to town as much. Within another year, the Negro was not seen at all. Over the course of a month, town board meetings were held to see if anyone had seen or heard about Mrs. Emily. Some had said they still peaked in through her windows to see her frail silhouette rocking back and forth in her chair. On the day we decided to seek the welfare of Mrs. Emily, there was somewhat of a heavy black cloud overhead. We stood there in front of her house seeing nothing through the windows due to the curtains being pulled. We knocked on the door for what seemed an eternity, without an answer from the Negro man. The door creaked and moaned as though cursing its hinges while our senses were instantly overwhelmed with the rancid smell of death and decay. There was no sign of life; no remnants of half eaten bread or dustless furnishings. The candles looked as if they had not been lit in months and through the back door we could see that the garden had not been cultivated. Upon entering the very back bedroom downstairs; there she lay, lifeless on the floor in the fatal position with what looked like a piece of paper in her hand. She had her cloak drawn over her head with no sight of her face in such dim lighting. The deputy first reached for the piece of paper and read aloud: "I wish not to take blame for such events. I am but old and withered and can care for neither myself nor whom I love any longer. I regret I could not give to those I loved and cared for, though they needed only my time. I have dearly loved and lost at my own expense, including the Negro man who helped me plenty. I helped him rest knowing that mine and his death was near." The paper had a few scribbles here and there; it was obvious the woman was dying as she wrote her last words. No one touched her corpse; we waited for the coroner to come and properly remove the body. When he arrived, Miss Emily's cloak was removed to reveal her face. Two days later, Homer Barron was buried in what he wore when he died; the cloak and skirt of Emily Grierson. Years later, during the expansion of Rose Cotton Gin, the remains of a female body were found where the garden once was cultivated. In my alternate ending of "A Rose for Emily," I wanted to emphasize a little more on what may or may not have happened to Homer Barron. It was obvious that Emily's love for him was very strong throughout the story, but I wanted to draw attention to the mystery of Homer Barron's love and what ever happened to him. I did not want anyone to be able to foreshadow that the body would not be hers. Homer Barron was wearing Emily Grierson's clothes because of his inability to separate himself from her same to Emily Grierson's inability to separate her own self from Homer Barron in the original. The significance of the letter was to serve as a distraction to the townspeople so that they would refrain from removing the cloak and instead, reach for the letter. The letter also served to give the possible causes of death. In my alternate ending, Homer Barron took his own life, as well as the life of the Negro. They were both old and withered, so instead of suffering, Homer supplied himself and th e Negro with Emily Grierson's arsenic. This

California Gold Rush Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2500 words

California Gold Rush - Essay Example Many people became wealthy but many returned home with very little money. The Gold Rush transformed San Francisco from a tiny village consisting of tents to a town with roads, churches and other buildings. Laws were created and government was established in the region. New transportation methods like steamships and railroads were created. Agriculture became widespread throughout the state. There were negative aspects of the Gold Rush as Native Americans were attacked and confined to the reservations. The gold mining also caused environmental harm. This paper explores the meaning and nature of the Gold Rush by examining the first hand accounts of James ayers and William Shaw. James Ayers had a brief career as a miner and visited California in 1849. William Shaw was an Englishman living South Australia when he heard of the California gold rush. He visited San Diego and San Francisco. He began a long trip to the gold fields and as prospectors in the international community of the camps. San Francisco was a tiny settlement before the start of the rush. The residents would leave their ships and businesses to join the Gold Rush. Many merchants and new people also arrived in the city. The population of San Francisco exploded from one thousand in 1848 to twenty five thousand in 1850. James Ayer says that gambling was the main business at the Portsmouth Square. The streets of San Francisco in 1849 were alive with people from all parts of the world. San Francisco had a magnificent harbor which had no level ground beyond the narrow rim that formed the crescent beach (Ayers 31). Thousands of profiteers were more than willing to separate a miner from his gold. Gold was a magnet that attracted many people from all over the world. San Francisco is described as a cultural mecca by Ayer (Pg. 31). The city had theaters, opera and more newspapers than any city in the world except London. The collision of cultures was its

Ecologies and Environments United States Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Ecologies and Environments United States - Essay Example According to ecologists’ studies, the Rocky Mountains, despite having a snow cover, do have diverse biotic zones that start from tops and extend to the lowlands and plains (U.S. Census Bureau, 2012). The biotic zones usually serve as essential habitats for numerous animals and plants, for instance, Tundra in Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The wildlife available in the Rocky Mountains encompasses elk, mule, pronghorns, black bears, coyotes and grizzly bears. In addition, owing to the fact the U.S. seashores at both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, the near states usually experience varying climate patterns compared to those of the interior regions (EPA, 2012). In addition, U.S like other industrial states has also experienced the increased predicament of obnoxious gas emissions from its chemical industries. However, as compared to the previous years the emissions have decreased because of the awareness the environmental authorities have created among the citizens to deal with the problem of global warming. For instance, the carbon monoxide emissions dropped from 114,465 in 2000 to 77,685 in 2008 despite minor fluctuations witnessed in between the years (U.S. Census Bureau, 2012). The forest cover occupies approximately one third of the total U.S.’ land; it provides habitats for numerous wild animals, not to mention other organisms. Forests have also benefited the society through the provision of clean water, reaction sites (camping and touring) and absorbing excess CO2, especially that generated by different industries (Rahm, 2010). Presently, the U.S. is experiencing habitat range rifts where numerous species are relocating to the Northern colder latitudes, for example, boreal forests, which are almost replacing Tundra vegetation. (Christiansen, Markstrom & Hay, 2011). This has led to negative impacts on numerous species’ habitats and wildlife that rely solely on Tundra ecosystem like snowy owl, for example. The reason can be found in the fact that temperatures are constantly increasing, especially in the central regions, which have yielded to the extinction of some animal species like American Pika etc (U.S. Census Bureau, 2012). List the specific factors that distinguish your local ecology and environment. 1. Range shifts - species are relocating to the Northern colder regions due to global warming and unpredictable climatic conditions. 2. Food web interruption due to the increasing rate of range shifts. 3. Precipitation, which has led to the increasing of the oceans’ water levels. 4. Forest cover, though it occupies the third of the U.S total land. 5. Rocky Mountains characterized by diverse biotic zones. Discuss how human activities have affected your local ecosystems Mining in US has become a serious threat to both the ecosystem and human life despite diverse state’s environmental agencies implementing strict rules and regulations to control it (Withington, 2012). The main threat lies in the release of obnoxious gases straight into the atmosphere and discharging of heavy metals into the water masses, which affects aquatic life (UGCRP, 2009). These heavy metals include cyanide, lead and mercury, which not only affect aquatic

Developed country Essay Example for Free

Developed country Essay 1. In many countries schools have severe problems with students behaviour. What do you think are the causes for this? What solutions can you suggest? It is undeniable, that most problems with students in the school occur because of their behaviour. There are many cases that prove it and, of course, the majority will agree due to own experience. There are several causes of this problem and few measures that could be taken. To begin with, psychologists argue that reasons for all children’s problems are their parents. So the first and the main cause for the stated issue is bad upbringing. For example, give a child an excessive care and worry. It means that in school child feel like at home and require as much attention as at home. Moreover the student feel deprived if doesn’t recieve the attention and demand it with the help of bad behaviour. Next reason for bad student’s behaviour in many countries is separate education of boys and girls. Approaches to the education of two sexes vary a lot. For example, girls can easily ask a teacher for a help and see in him an ally, boys, in contrast, in the cases when they can’t deal with the problem, start to fool and disturb the lesson. Consequently, separate education and different approaches for both genderes can prevent problems with behaviour. Speaking about possible solutions, first of all, I can suggest the professional development of teachers. Inasmuch as in most cases teacher is able to deal with problems between students and to prevent a serious scandal. Secondly, separate education can help students to be more concentrated and teachers to develop successfuly the peculiarities of both genderes. In conclusion, it is clear that there are various reasons for student behaviour, and steps need to be taken to prevent and solve this problem in order every country has a great young generation. 2. Many universities charge higher fees for foreign students. Why do they do this? Do you believe it is fair? It is undeniable that nowadays many students decide to move to another country to get better education or just to get a 2 or 3 months practice in foreign university. It’s the fact that fees are higher for foreigners. To my mind, it’s fair, and I’ll provide some reasons for this phenomenon. To start with, often students, in particular, from poor areas, e. g. India, Africa, move to other countries to get higher education. So developed countries try to save balance of native students and set higher fees for foreigners. For example, Russia suffers from migrants from the near abroad, that is why in many russian regions, such as Lugansk, fees raised. Next reason is that foreign students bring monetary gain not only to a particular university, but also to a citys budget and a whole country. Universities upgrade their equipment, pay for utilities and so on. For instance, countries, in which are said to be many prestigious universities, such as America, England, Spain, Netherlands, have higher fees for foreign students, but demand for them increases every year. In my point of view, it’s fair, because every country should support its own students. If the difference between payments become low, people from poor regions will be able freely to migrate and it is said to be a great harm for economy of developed country and, moreover, to the economy of poor country, which lose its â€Å"brains†. In conclusion, it is clear that higher fees only support the economies of countries and prevent the unneccesary migration.

American Heros in Tom Wolfes The Right Stuff Essay examples -- Righ

American Heros in Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff depicts the lives of some of America's hottest pilots and its first astronauts. These men include Pete Conrad, Chuck Yeager, John Glenn, Gus Grissom, Wally Shirra, Alan Shepard, Gordon Cooper, Scott Carpenter and Deke Sleyton. Some of these men were hotshot test pilots at Edwards Air Force Base, and some flew cargo planes. Some had impeccable service records, while others hadn't flown in a real dog fight for even a second. Despite these differences in backgrounds and credentials, Tom Wolfe turns each of these nine men into a separate and individualized hero. Chuck Yeager and John Glenn are probably the most memorable of the nine pilots in The Right Stuff. Chuck Yeager was a hillbilly from West Virginia, who by the age of 22 had 13 1/2 "kills" in World War II. Yeager made a name for himself by being the first man to reach Mach 1, the speed of sound. John Glenn was an all-American Marine pilot. Glenn was a religious family man who was ready to do anything he could for his country. He became the poster boy for America's Mercury Project. Yeager and Glenn are two fine examples of American heroes of the 1950's and 1960's. In The Right Stuff, Wolfe presents these men in such a way that the excitement they started is rekindled. Wolfe uses many tools in his recreation of these real-life heroes, including entertaining anecdotes, the characters' own words and thoughts, and the opinions of others. In several instances, Wolfe uses anecdotes to reveal parts of a character's personality or to show his influence upon others. One example of this occurs when Wolfe mentions that the voices of airline pilots are modeled after the voice of Chuck Yeager. Wo... ...nks to himself, "What the hell was he talking about. I don't think any of us could really go on with something like this...What possible difference could a wife's attitude make about the opportunity for a giant step up the great ziggurat" (95). This thought again shows the other six astronauts' perception of Glenn as an outsider. He didn't follow the rules of those who had the right stuff; he was stealing the show and directing the attention away from them. Tom Wolfe is a master of recreating the people and events of the Mercury Project. In The Right Stuff he brings out all the excitement that each astronaut produced during the era. He uses anecdotes, the characters's own words, and the opinions of others to separate the characters and present each as an individual hero. Works Cited: Wolfe, Tom. The Right Stuff. New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1979.

Did the Nazis solve Germany’s economic problems from 1933 to 1939?

Between 1933 and 1939 Germany suffered economic problems. The main economic problems were Germany was dependent on the foreign market and the imports, the industrial production, unemployment, the cost of living and wages. Hitler and the Nazis tried to solve the problems, they were successful but there were hidden factors to each solution. Firstly unemployment was a problem because it had risen to over six million by 1933 and that was 25. 9% of the country. With people out of work the standards of living dropped. By 1939 Hitler had reduced the number of unemployed, it was now just above three hundred thousand, which was 0. 5% of the country and thanks to one of Hitler's schemes to reduce unemployment, new roads had been built. Hitler reduced unemployment by introducing the autobahn scheme, which created many jobs for men as the Nazis were aiming to build over 7000 km of road. Hitler also continued with the national labour service, which became compulsory for German men between 18-25 years old. The men had to work on public works schemes such as land reclamation, tree planting, construction and road building. The schemes seemed to work, removing thousands of young men from the unemployment figures. The schemes appeared to be working but the results were that the unemployment figures hid a lot, such as the impact on women and Jews. The loss of rights for workers because trade unions were banned. There was no negotiation of wages and there was no right to strike. The national labour service was temporary and there was low wages for those who joined. The autobahn was actually part of war plans. The next problem was that Germany was too dependent on the foreign market and its imports. Hitler felt that Germany was too reliant on the foreign imports, which he felt made Germany to venerable and Hitler wanted to stop the need for the foreign market. Hitler's solution to this problem was â€Å"Autarky†. Autarky was the creation of artificial substitutes (using ersatz) for products such as oil, textiles, food and rubber. The effect of Autarky was ersatz materials. These were developed, produced and ordered. The increase of ersatz made Germany more self reliant but it was still not totally reliant, as Germany continued to import 33% of its raw materials and 17% of its food. The result of Autarky was ersatz was a complete failure because they were inferior products. Ersatz contributed to the decrease in living standards for German people. The third problem was the industrial production of Germany. Due to high unemployment, many factories were closed down. This meant that production was at a low level and by 1933 the production of goods ad fallen by a third since 1929. Between 1933 and 1939 the production in heavy industry increased largely. Coal and chemical production doubled, oil, iron and steel production trebled and iron ore extract production increased by five fold. Consumer goods were not as important so they were produced at a slower rate. Hitler managed to increase production by firstly introducing autarky. By doing this it enabled the country to become more self sufficient for wartime production. Hitler began rearmament, which opened up job opportunities both in the factories and the army. Rearmament helped to reduce unemployment levels. Hitler's other solution was to increase working hours. In 1933 on average, per week, working hours were 42. 9 but had increased to 47. 0 in 1939. This meant that production increased. The result of Hitler's solutions was Germany became more likely to start war. The next problem was the issue with wages. The problem was that because of the high unemployment, employers had lots of people wanting jobs, so they could offer low wages and people would have to accept them. This lead to the working class not having a very high standard of life. Hitler's solution was to get rid of local and national wage rates and introduce performance principle. This scheme meant that the more work a person did the more money they earned. The effect was that the real value of take home pay increased and longer working days let people gain more money. The positive result of Hitler's solutions was that the quality of life got a little bit better for a majority of the working class. The negative results of Hitler's solution were it didn't suit older people and less fit people, as they could not work as long as others. Sickness and absenteeism increased meaning people didn't earn money. Longer working days and hours meant people do not have much energy to work and trade unions were taken away, which gave the people little rights. The last problem was the cost of living. The problem was that everyday items were too expensive because of the average pay; there was not enough money. Hitler did nothing about this problem because he wanted to keep the support from the farmers. The effect from this problem was the cost of living in 1939 had increased since 1933. All basic groceries, except fish had risen in price. This was because food items were in short supply and it was the Nazis policy to discourage agricultural production because it had to keep up prices for the benefit of farmers. The result was the standard of living was very low for most Germans, mainly the working class. Hitler did manage to solve most of Germanys economical problems but it was not entirely down to Hitler and the Nazis. Before Hitler can chancellor in the early 30's, the Weimar government was in power and this was during the 1920's depression. After the 1920's depression, the German economy was starting to recover, the worst of the depression was over, unemployment was decreasing and inflation was going back to a suitable amount. With the economy going back to normal the Weimar government started to set up new schemes to help solve all the problems. The Weimar government set up the national labour service, but Hitler improved it by making it compulsory to join in 1935 and the Weimar government also came up with the autobahn idea but lack of money in the 20's meant it could not go ahead but in 1934 Hitler had enough money to start the construction of the autobahn. So although it may have seemed that Hitler came up with these ideas and solved the economical problems he didn't, he made the Weimar governments ideas better because he had the money to do so. When Hitler was came into power there was a worldwide recovery happening after the depression and in Germany. This factor led to an increase in production, which helped solve one of the economical problems in the early 30's in Germany. Hitler's solution did bring about some improvements such as the fall in unemployment, new roads and German citizens having a slightly better quality of life, but there were a lot of hidden and negative factors to these improvements. Women could not work nor the Jewish, so there standard of living dropped, a lot of the improvements were for the war effort, not the country, the autobahn, rearming and conscription were part of the war effort and trade unions were abolished meaning workers had no or very little rights. This was all part of Hitler's plan for dictatorship. Another factor was most of these solutions were not long term and Hitler hadn't really thought about the consequences because the standard of living was still going down, there was still food being imported and the working hours were getting longer.

Batman Character Study

Batman is often referred to as an emotionless and inhuman character that does not have any significant relationships in his life. On the surface it may seem like that, but in reality Batman does have relationships with people. Examples of these relationships are shown in the graphic novel, Batman Year One, and the movie, The Dark Knight. The first person that Batman has a relationship with is Lieutenant Jim Gordon. Batman and Gordon share a common goal of getting crime off the streets. At the beginning of Batman Year One Gordon believed that Batman was a villain. Gordon thought that he could not trust Batman. As the story went on Gordon realized that Batman was fighting crime and was a trustworthy person. Gordon knows that he needs Batman’s help to help take down not only criminals, but the corrupt police system in Gotham. And Batman knows he needs someone with values within the corrupt police force to help him fight crime. This relationship carries over into the movie, The Dark Knight. Gordon can now signal Batman whenever he needs assistance, by simply turning a giant spot light used to signal Batman. Many people do not consider Gordon a friend of Batman’s but Aristotle does not agree with that. They have what is called a friendship of utility, which means both men benefit from the other. Batman needs Gordon, a trustworthy man inside a corrupt police force. Gordon needs Batman, a superhero that can help stop all the crime in Gotham City. Another relationship that Batman has is with his butler, Alfred. When Bruce Wayne’s parents were killed Alfred became the father figure in Bruce’s life. Alfred raised Bruce and made him the man he is today. Alfred has been there everyday of Bruce’s life. In turn, Alfred is given a house to live in and all the necessary things to live. Alfred is very nurturing and is often there for Bruce with great advice. In The Dark Knight when Batman wanted to quit, Alfred had the right things to say in order to motivate Batman to keep fighting crime. It is clear that Batman and Alfred have a strong relationship. Their relationship is closer than the one that Batman and Jim Gordon share. They seem to have an emotional caring for one another. The only thing that is keeping them from having a deeper relationship is the fact that Bruce will always be the master and Alfred will always be the servant. The last relationship that Batman has is with Rachel Dawes. Rachel is a childhood friend of Bruce and the love of his life. She is one of the only persons to know Batman’s true identity as Bruce Wayne. In The Dark Knight Batman is often trying to save her. One example is when she is thrown off of the building by the Joker, Batman jumps off to rescue her. Another example is when both Harvey Dent and Rachel are trapped at different locations and Batman must choose which one he wants to save. Batman chooses to go after Rachel. It is very obvious that Batman has strong feelings for her. Rachel and Bruce were once together but Bruce’s job as Batman got in the way. Rachel is now dating Gotham’s District Attorney, Harvey Dent. This hurts Batman because he can’t stand to see the love of his life with someone else. Batman shows the most emotion toward Rachel, and this makes him a very human character. In conclusion, Batman is a very human character with strong relationships. This is clearly shown through his relationships with Jim Gordon, Alfred, and Rachel Dawes. At a glimpse, it seems as though Batman is inhuman. But once you dig deeper you find he has many relationships and cares for many people. Many people say that Batman has no strong, deep relationships. This is not true. Batman’s strongest relationship is with the city he protects. Batman made a promise to his parents. He promised he would make Gotham a better place. Protecting and cleaning up Gotham gives Batman the utmost fulfillment.

The eNotes Blog Bibliolandscapes The Art of GuyLaramee

Bibliolandscapes The Art of GuyLaramee We all have created mental landscapes of the literary places we love Pemberly, Maycomb, West Egg. But artist Guy Laramee has taken his vision of places and   things to construct three dimensional canvasses out of actual books. By pressing books together with clamps, the pages and covers become hard as wood.   Laramee then uses standard woodworking tools,   including a sandblaster, to create his miniature universes. How long each sculpture takes is dependent on its depth of detail, ranging from about two days to four months. Asked to explain his craft and concept, Laramee finds it difficult to fully articulate. However, here his his Artist Statement: The erosion of cultures – and of â€Å"culture† as a whole is the theme that runs through the last 25 years of my artistic practice. Cultures arise, become obsolete, and are replaced by new ones. With the vanishing of cultures, some people are displaced and destroyed. We are currently told that the paper book is bound to die. The library, as a place, is finished. One might say: so what? Do we really believe that â€Å"new technologies† will change anything concerning our existential dilemma, our human condition? And even if we could change the content of all the books on earth, would this change anything in relation to the domination of analytical knowledge over intuitive knowledge? What is it in ourselves that insists on grabbing, on casting the flow of experience into concepts ? When I was younger, I was very upset with the ideologies of progress. I wanted to destroy them by showing that we are still primitives. I had the profound intuition that as a species, we had not evolved that much. Now I see that our belief in progress stems from our fascination with the content of consciousness. Despite appearances, our current obsession for changing the forms in which we access culture is but a manifestation of this fascination. My work, in 3D as well as in painting, originates from the very idea that ultimate knowledge could very well be an erosion instead of an accumulation. The title of one of my pieces is â€Å" All Ideas Look Alike†. Contemporary art seems to have forgotten that there is an exterior to the intellect. I want to examine thinking, not only â€Å"What† we think, but â€Å"That† we think. So I carve landscapes out of books and I paint Romantic landscapes. Mountains of disused knowledge return to what they really are: mountains. They erode a bit more and they become hills. Then they flatten and become fields where apparently nothing is happening. Piles of obsolete encyclopedias return to that which does not need to say anything, that which simply IS. Fogs and clouds erase everything we know, everything we think we are. After 30 years of practice, the only thing I still wish my art to do is this: To project us into this thick Cloud of Unknowing. So far, there are two complete series of landscapes, Biblios and The Great Wall. Here are some images from both projects. You can see all of Laramees work at his website.

The Immediate Effects of the French and Indian War Essays

The Immediate Effects of the French and Indian War Essays The Immediate Effects of the French and Indian War Paper The Immediate Effects of the French and Indian War Paper Sunday, October 06, 2013 THE IMMEDIATE EFFECTS OF THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR The French and Indian War began when Virginian Settlers went to claim land by the Ohio River that was given to them by the king in 1754. When they arrived, the French would not let them have the land, and kicked them out. A group of Virginians led by Major George Washington went to where the French had taken their claim. They were sent away civilly, but also strictly. Major Washington and the Virginian troops decided they would camp out while reinforcements arrived. Washington and his men ttacked the fort after they had armed both themselves and the reinforcements. The first battle of the French-Indian War ended with a result of ten deaths, twenty one captures and one escape. War burst forth between Great Britain and France in both the new world and also in England. The war changed ownership of certain new world colonies, in order to pay off war debt, certain acts were put into effect, and famous people from the Revolutionary war got their governmental reputation from the French and Indian War. One important immediate effect of the French-Indian War as that some new world colonies changed in ownership. Some French colonies located in modern-day Canada were owned by Great Britain during the War. After the Spanish failed to ruin the English, Florida was signed away as well. The French were in control of Louisiana, Acadia and Northeastern Canada, home to many Indian tribes such as the Choctaw, Chickasaw, Catawba, Creek and Cherokee. The eastern seaboard in Georgia and the Carolinas was where the English chose to settle. The region between the English and French settlements tried to preserve their self- overnment through trading with both France and Great Britain. The relationship among the colonies was also changed by the switch in ownership. Another major effect of the war was that certain acts were put into effect in order to pay off war debt. The Tea Act, The Sugar Act, The Townshend Act, The Quartering Act, and The Stamp Act were passed as a result of the French and Indian War. The Tea Act was established to remove tax dues on imported tea. The act enabled the East Indian Tea Company to recover from the losses it had experienced because of the colonies ailure to buy the tea. There was also a component of trying to control smuggling because anti British protests were being funded using the money made from smuggled tea. The Sugar Act was put into effect in order to pay off the debt caused by the French and Indian War. The British placed taxes on sugar, coffee, wine and many other goods imported in large amounts from Britain, and many colonists boycotted the products despite the governments attempt to pay off the countrys debt. Similar to the Sugar Act, The Townshend Acts main purpose was to raise money to pay off the debt. Taxes were placed on paint, paper, lead, glass and also tea. Colonists boycotted many of these items as well. The purpose of the Quartering Act made to house and quarter British soldiers in this act. The Stamp Act was created because Britain needed the colonists money so they could fght in their own war. Also, the act was made because the colonists needed to pay Britain back. The French and Indian War also gave famous people from the Revolutionary War a chance to get their governmental and military experience and reputation. One of those iconic people was George Washington, Americas first president.

A Tale of Two Stories Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

A Tale of Two Stories - Essay Example What motivated me to speak up was that it wasnt really much difficulty to get the teachers to sign for themselves. It would be different if there was no way to contact them. Although it did take a while to visit each teacher, it was worth it in the end. I was satisfied with my response because I avoided a potentially dangerous situation and I resolved the problem all by myself. Since I was the one that objected to the forging of signatures, then it was only right that I went and got all the teachers to sign off on an important part of our project. What made is easy for me to speak out was that I had known most of my group members for some time and I was good friends with a couple of them. I was sure that they would react positively to my suggestion, so I did not fear for my standing within the group. A couple of summers ago I worked at a job where I was required to handle the phones during the lunch break while most of my fellow employees were out of the office. There was one time when my direct boss was with me in the office and we were talking about how my internship was going. Before he left, he told me that he wasnt supposed to be at work today and if anyone should call asking to speak with him then I should tell them that he was not here. A few minutes after he had left the office, the phone rang and I answered it; the person on the other end of the line wanted to speak to my boss. I hesitated because I was unsure of what to do. I eventually told the caller that my boss was not at work that day and I would take a message for

Popeyes Singapore Case Study Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Popeyes Singapore - Case Study Example This just cost me eight dollars. I was so impressed by the chicken since it was huge, deep fried and well marinated. This is the best service one would ever get. One important thing noted is concerning the service; it seems to be a little slow since it took me time before our turn for placing my order and waiting for it to be served. May be that is an area they can work on. I however understand since it was very crowded, and the waiters do not seem to be many. I really enjoyed my meal, and that will be a place I can recommend to a friend for the best Popeyes in Singapore. The Popeyes menu items have a special flair of southern style preparation and have a unique cooking style. Various items in the menu include bonafide chicken, tenders, seafood, sandwiches and wraps, live well, family and kid’s meals,signature sides, signature sauces, desserts and beverages. The positioning of the shop is strategic, and that is why it attracts so many customers. It is the best place to get any of the items listed above, and I guarantee you will not be disappointed by the service. It is evident that Ang Mo Kio shop offers good services since the place gets crowded in demand for the foods. I think the management should think about expanding the shop more and bringing in more labor force to ensure that services are effective and

Envisioning America & What Caused the Pueblo Revolt Essay - 7

Envisioning America & What Caused the Pueblo Revolt - Essay Example There was no meeting ground between them which finally ended in the Pueblo revolt. According to Mancall, â€Å"Richard Hakluyt the elder, a prominent London lawyer, succinctly described the rationale for those efforts. After enumerating the varied rewards, he further stated three goals of colonization. 1. To plant Christian religion 2.To trafficks 3.To conquer.†(p.1) Weber states, "Pueblos religious beliefs were more important than Apache raids or drought in causing them to revolt" (p. 22). In his review of Webers’s book Lorraine Coops writes, â€Å"Primary sources also help the students to "get inside the heads" of people in the past--to try and understand individuals motivations and experiences from their perspective. Peeling away the layers of the colonial facade can help students discover both sides of the story. If our goal as teachers is to make history "real" to the students, then primary sources need to be incorporated into our work.† The goal of the colonists was selfish. They did not arrive with friendly intentions. But something unexpected also happened which worked to the tremendous disadvantage of the American Indians. Mancall observes, â€Å"When the Spaniards moved across the Atlantic, they became the first Europeans to unleash deadly diseases among the native peoples of the Americas.†(p.5) The American Indians suffered exploitation from all ends, people starved and many thousands died of diseases, for which they had no immunity or medicines. Considering the Pueblo revolt: Is there any room for disagreement within each group? Did the Pueblos have cause to support the Spanish? Were there Spaniards who opposed the subjugation of the Pueblos (or at least the way(s) in which people told the stories of conquest and subjugation)? Would a common Spanish soldier relate the same story as a Captain? A New Mexican colonist and a Franciscan friar? No room for disagreement

The Institute Of Professional Sociologists Nigeria Essay Example for Free

The Institute Of Professional Sociologists Nigeria Essay Ever since Africa became a continent, most of her problems have been policy and policy management. First, it was the colonial policy makers who introduced the Indirect Rule system (as was the case of British colonial Administration) and the assimilation policy system (as was the case of the French colonial Administration).The Colonial masters adopted these policies largely because of administrative convenience and nothing more. They did not consider the social structure, the culture or the social thought of the African people. And it was little wonder that these policies left the continents in utter disarray. The people are still living under the burden of their consequences. The next anathema was the post-colonial imperialist policies that we term ‘Divide and Rule’. Many of the foreign policies relating to Africa in the past five decades fall within this spectrum. Today most policy makers, Governments and government apparatus in Africa seem to follow the trend of the colonial masters when formulating their policies .a case in point is the last fuel increment or subsidy removal in Nigeria. The people vehemently resisted the policy even if it were to their benefit. They would not want to know any long term or short term benefits or whatsoever. As long as the governments would not want to be people-centric, their policies will always meet with ardent resistance. Most policy finds their way through to the people who have little or no knowledge of the social thought or social systems as do the social scientists. Many politicians rely on armchair theorizing about what and what would or would not work. A policy made by a trial and error methodology does much harm, its makes the people as it were, a laboratory rat. Men are not rats and no one government or Authority should ever treat its people like one. That a particular ideas worked somewhere in the world, do not mean it can work else where. Man is enigmatic and so complex. Culture varies from place to place and globalization will not stop that. The differences among people may create the conflicts of interest, ethnic differences, xenophobia,’ we and they’ factors etc. However when properly perceived these seeming difference is a grand design of what forms the social systems, social thoughts, and the social structure of a people. If culture is a way of life of a people, which involves foods, clothing, Knowledge, idea etc why should someone force an Amala, or Tuwo (Local foods in Nigeria) into the throat of an Asian man? Who don’t know how they are made or how they are eaten? Meanwhile this is exactly what the colonial masters did. The indirect rule system and the system of Assimilation were forced through to the people, regardless they accepted it or not. And most Government in Africa inherited this ‘force it through attitude’. Their policies are tested on the people who they see as lab rats. And they are forced to accept it, whether they like it or not, whether it is compactable with their social systems or not. And because muscle and whips are exacted, the people accept it with malicious obedience. They accept the policy but break the rules. And as those who make these policies do all they can to make it work, those whom it is supposedly made for live how they have ever lived, and is making it not work. We now have is a cycle that has left the continent undeveloped for decades. The ways we proffer here are not exhaustive, as there are all other ways to solve the problem of underdevelopment in Africa. Meanwhile we present hereunder these measures that may revolutionize governance in Africa. The concept of research is almost alien to most African politicians. They wonder why their counterpart in the occidental and oriental worlds succeeds, and yet never know that research is the key to development. Social research in Africa is mostly either not founded or they are not encouraged. Worst still is the fact that most studies are being piloted by international donor/organizations who found these researches for their own sake. And their findings, whether real or doctored, becomes the only available data for all to peruse. If we most move ahead in Africa, governments and other agencies most begin to fund and pioneer research not just for its own sake, but for the sake of national or continental development . Social scientists are not just a group of academic puppets or parakeets as most politicians think. They have a good role to play in societal engineering, especially in developing societies of Africa. Instead of using the people as lab rats, the politician could use the knowledge and research ability of the social scientist, to orchestrate a pilot study or even a laboratory experiment for intended policies before they can be tagged a public policy. However the social scientist must avoid the temptation of using research as a propaganda tool. Rather He/she must hold sacrosanct the ethical value of the profession, and the confidence the people lay on him/her as a custodian of the social systems.

The War on Drugs and U.S. Foreign Policy Essay -- American Drug Policy

Introduction The War on Drugs has been a common phrase in the United States for many decades. What exactly does this mean and how does it shape U.S. foreign policy? The War on Drugs can be defined as the systematic and aggressive policy that is determined to undermine and stop the flow of illegal drugs into the United States. This policy is backed by several U.S. institutions including the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), U.S. Army, U.S. Coast Guard, and U.S. Customs. Also, included in this list are the numerous local law enforcement agencies across the country. The U.S. government has instituted the following ways for enforcing its foreign drug policy: interdiction, eradication, legislative reform. Interdiction is the attempt to stop drugs as they are en route to the United States. This remains to be a formidable task; because of the enormous size of the United States, policing its vast borders has proven to be extremely difficult. For example, the United States has over 12,000 miles of shoreline, through 300 ports of legal entry, and over 7,500 miles of border with Canada and Mexico. The jurisdiction of these border points fall under all of the above mentioned agencies and military branches. Herein lays the first problem of foreign policy on drugs, determining which agency/branch has rightful control over which part of the border. The DEA and FBI have overlapping roles in when it comes to enforcing drug policy. Miscommunication often happens when attempting to interdict drugs because of overlapping jurisdiction between two governme nt agencies. According to the Drug Policy Alliance, the United States has spent over $25 billion on s... ...ment with local towns to pinpoint the appropriate crops to be exterminated. Strong legal punishment is needed to deter would be drug traffickers from committing crimes. All of these crucial steps need to be followed in order to start winning the war on drugs. Works Cited http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/library/basicfax.htm#q7 http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/co.html#Econ http://www.usdoj.gov/dea/pubs/intel/02006/#4c http://www.tni.org/drugs/pubs/drugsum.htm http://www.drugpolicy.org/news/02_12_03fuzzy.cfm http://www.drugpolicy.org/global/drugpolicyby/latinamerica/ http://www.drugwarfacts.org/military.htm http://www.drugwar.com/interdiction.shtm http://www.fpif.org/briefs/vol6/v6n22andes.html http://www.globalpolicy.org/empire/intervention/2004/0512colombia.htm http://www.tni.org/drugs/research/airbridg.htm

Sharon Wood and Marilyn Bell Di Lascio

In the passages â€Å"The true story of Lake Ontario† and â€Å"Sharon Wood: No Limits†, two amazing women gets introduced accomplishing their life-risking goals; both women had astonishing performances, but Sharon Woods defiantly stood out more than Marilyn Bell Di Lascio which came to a conclusion that Sharon Woods would be a better Role Model. Sharon Wood, the mind blowing mountain climber believed that â€Å"fear is healthy† (Georgi&Wojna p. 2).This fascinating statement declared from Sharon Wood was something no one would expect. Usually, people would think fear is unhealthy to the human body because it makes the human body nervous and uncomfortable. But Sharon Wood was different from the rest and believed in something unusual. Not only did Wood have a different state of mind, but she also had patience. Wood tried her best to wait for her helpless partner stuck on the mountain. She made a smart move by â€Å"wait[ing] 30 minutes† (Georgi&Wojna p. 1) f or him. If she climbed back for her partner in the mountain, she could’ve gotten hurt, stuck or ran out of oxygen. Even though she did abandon her partner for the rest of the trip down, she did it for an important, significant reason. Moreover, after she came back from her long trip from Everest, unlike Marilyn she found a â€Å"small, independent, non-denominational school in Canmore† (Georgi&Wojna p. 18). Marilyn Bell Di Lascio, was a brave swimmer that was first to swim across Lake Ontario.Marilyn was a strong hearted woman that had a passion for swimming. She â€Å"put her into [swimming]† (Di Lascio p. 3) Di Lascio was a magnificent woman, but she had some little troubles that interrupted her becoming the better role model. Di Lascio first said that she was determined to do something but, she lost all her â€Å"confidence about competing the swim, and the idea terrified [her]† (Di Lascio p. 9). This fear overcame her and made her terrified which was mostly the reason why she got budged off the better role model position.Furthermore, she had to get her friend wake her up in the middle of her swim which showed that she couldn’t concentrate hard enough. In the end when she came back from her swim, all she did was accept different prizes and awards and did nothing else-unlike Sharon Wood. Though Marilyn Bell Di Lascio and Sharon Wood both finished their life-risking goals, Sharon Wood would be the stronger, better role model because she was intelligent, different from others and also thought about her children and contributed to the society.

Bag of Bones CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After that I was mostly in the zone. I came out a few times when that scratched-out scrap of genealogy fell from inside one of my old steno books, for instance but those interludes were brief. In a way it was like my dream of Mattie, Jo, and Sara; in a way it was like the terrible fever I'd had as a child, when I'd almost died of the measles; mostly it was like nothing but itself. It was just the zone. I was feeling it. I wish to God I hadn't been. George came over, herding the man in the blue mask ahead of him. George was limping now, and badly. I could smell hot oil and gasoline and burning tires. ‘Is she dead?' George asked. ‘Mattie?' ‘Yes.' ‘John?' ‘Don't know,' I said, and then John twitched and groaned. He was alive, but there was a lot of blood. ‘Mike, listen,' George began, but before he could say more, a terrible liquid screaming began from the burning car in the ditch. It was the driver. He was cooking in there. The shooter started to turn that way, and George raised his gun. ‘Move and I'll kill you.' ‘You can't let him die like that,' the shooter said from behind his mask. ‘You couldn't let a dog die like that.' ‘He's dead already,' George said. ‘You couldn't get within ten feet of that car unless you were in an asbestos suit.' He reeled on his feet. His face was as white as the spot of whipped cream I'd wiped off the end of Ki's nose. The shooter made as if to go for him and George brought the gun up higher. ‘The next time you move, don't stop,' George said, ‘because I won't. Guaranteed. Now take that mask off.' ‘No.' ‘I'm done fucking with you, Jesse. Say hello to God.' George pulled back the hammer of his revolver. The shooter said, ‘Jesus Christ,' and yanked off his mask. It was George Footman. Not much surprise there. From behind him, the driver gave one more shriek from within the Ford fireball and then was silent. Smoke rose in black billows. More thunder roared. ‘Mike, go inside and find something to tie him with,' George Kennedy said. ‘I can hold him another minute two, if I have to but I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. Look for strapping tape. That shit would hold Houdini.' Footman stood where he was, looking from Kennedy to me and back to Kennedy again. Then he peered down at Highway 68, which was eerily deserted. Or perhaps it wasn't so eerie, at that the coming storms had been well forecast. The tourists and summer folk would be under cover. As for the locals . . . The locals were . . . sort of listening. That was at least close. The minister was speaking about Royce Merrill, a life which had been long and fruitful, a man who had served his country in peace and in war, but the old-timers weren't listening to him. They were listening to us, the way they had once gathered around the pickle barrel at the Lakeview General and listened to prizefights on the radio. Bill Dean was holding Yvette's wrist so tightly his fingernails were white. He was hurting her . . . but she wasn't complaining. She wanted him to hold onto her. Why? ‘Mike!' George's voice was perceptibly weaker. ‘Please, man, help me. This guy is dangerous.' ‘Let me go,' Footman said. ‘You'd better, don't you think?' ‘In your wettest dreams, motherfuck,' George said. I got up, went past the pot with the key underneath, went up the cement-block steps. Lightning exploded across the sky, followed by a bellow of thunder. Inside, Rommie was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. His face was even whiter than George's. ‘Kid's okay,' he said, forcing the words. ‘But she looks like waking up . . . I can't walk anymore. My ankle's totally fucked.' I moved for the telephone. ‘Don't bother,' Rommie said. His voice was harsh and trembling. ‘Tried it. Dead. Storm must already have hit some of the other towns. Killed some of the equipment. Christ, I never had anything hurt like this in my life.' I went to the drawers in the kitchen and began yanking them open one by one, looking for strapping tape, looking for clothesline, looking for any damned thing. If Kennedy passed out from blood-loss while I was in here, the other George would take his gun, kill him, and then kill John as he lay unconscious on the smoldering grass. With them taken care of, he'd come in here and shoot Rommie and me. He'd finish with Kyra. ‘No he won't,' I said. ‘He'll leave her alive.' And that might be even worse. Silverware in the first drawer. Sandwich bags, garbage bags, and neatly banded stacks of grocery-store coupons in the second. Oven mitts and potholders in the third ‘Mike, where's my Mattie?' I turned, as guilty as a man who has been caught mixing illegal drugs. Kyra stood at the living-room end of the hall with her hair falling around her sleep-flushed cheeks and her scrunchy hung over one wrist like a bracelet. Her eyes were wide and panicky. It wasn't the shots that had awakened her, probably not even her mother's scream. I had wakened her. My thoughts had wakened her. In the instant I realized it I tried to shield them somehow, but I was too late. She had read me about Devore well enough to tell me not to think about sad stuff, and now she read what had happened to her mother before I could keep her out of my mind. Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened. She shrieked as if her hand had been caught in a vise and ran for the door. ‘No, Kyra, no!' I sprinted across the kitchen, almost tripping over Rommie (he looked at me with the dim incomprehension of someone who is no longer completely conscious), and grabbed her just in time. As I did, I saw Buddy Jellison leaving Grace Baptist by a side door. Two of the men he had been smoking with went with him. Now I understood why Bill was holding so tightly to Yvette, and loved him for it loved both of them. Something wanted him to go with Buddy and the others . . . but Bill wasn't going. Kyra struggled in my arms, making big convulsive thrusts at the door, gasping in breath and then screaming it out again. ‘Let me go, want to see Mommy, let me go, want to see Mommy, let me go ‘ I called her name with the only voice I knew she would really hear, the one I could use only with her. She relaxed in my arms little by little, and turned to me. Her eyes were huge and confused and shining with tears. She looked at me a moment longer and then seemed to understand that she mustn't go out. I put her down. She just stood there a moment, then backed up until her bottom was against the dishwasher. She slid down its smooth white front to the floor. Then she began to wail the most awful sounds of grief I have ever heard. She understood completely, you see. I had to show her enough to keep her inside, I had to . . . and because we were in the zone together, I could. Buddy and his friends were in a pickup truck headed this way. BAMM CONSTRUCTION, it said on the side. ‘Mike!' George cried. He sounded panicky. ‘You got to hurry!' ‘Hold on!' I called back. ‘Hold on, George!' Mattie and the others had started stacking picnic things beside the sink, but I'm almost positive that the stretch of Formica counter above the drawers had been clean and bare when I hurried after Kyra. Not now. The yellow sugar cannister had been overturned. Written in the spilled sugar was this: ‘No shit,' I muttered, and checked the remaining drawers. No tape, no rope. Not even a lousy set of handcuffs, and in most well-equipped kitchens you can count on finding three or four. Then I had an idea and looked in the cabinet under the sink. When I went back out, our George was swaying on his feet and Footman was looking at him with a kind of predatory concentration. ‘Did you get some tape?' George Kennedy asked. ‘No, something better,' I said. ‘Tell me, Footman, who actually paid you? Devore or Whitmore? Or don't you know?' ‘Fuck you,' he said. I had my right hand behind my back. Now I pointed down the hill with my left one and endeavored to look surprised. ‘What the hell's Osgood doing? Tell him to go away!' Footman looked in that direction it was instinctive and I hit him in the back of the head with the Craftsman hammer I'd found in the toolbox under Mattie's sink. The sound was horrible, the spray of blood erupting from the flying hair was horrible, but worst of all was the feeling of the skull giving way a spongy collapse that came right up the handle and into my fingers. He went down like a sandbag, and I dropped the hammer, gagging. ‘Okay,' George said. ‘A little ugly, but probably the best thing you could have done under . . . under the . . . ‘ He didn't go down like Footman it was slower and more controlled, almost graceful but he was just as out. I picked up the revolver, looked at it, then threw it into the woods across the road. A gun was nothing for me to have right now; it could only get me into more trouble. A couple of other men had also left the church; a carful of ladies in black dresses and veils, as well. I had to hurry on even faster. I unbuckled George's pants and pulled them down. The bullet which had taken him in the leg had torn into his thigh, but the wound looked as if it was clotting. John's upper arm was a different story it was still pumping out blood in frightening quantities. I yanked his belt free and cinched it around his arm as tightly as I could. Then I slapped him across the face. His eyes opened and stared at me with a bleary lack of recognition. ‘Open your mouth, John!' He only stared at me. I leaned down until our noses were almost touching and screamed, ‘OPEN YOUR MOUTH! DO IT NOW!' He opened it like a kid when the nurse tells him just say aahh. I stuck the end of the belt between his teeth. ‘Close!' He closed. ‘Now hold it,' I said. ‘Even if you pass out, hold it.' I didn't have time to see if he was paying attention. I got to my feet and looked up as the whole world went glare-blue. For a second it was like being inside a neon sign. There was a black suspended river up there, roiling and coiling like a basket of snakes. I had never seen such a baleful sky. I dashed up the cement-block steps and into the trailer again. Rom-mie had slumped forward onto the table with his face in his folded arms. He would have looked like a kindergartner taking a timeout if not for the broken salad bowl and the bits of lettuce in his hair. Kyra still sat with her back to the dishwasher, weeping hysterically. I picked her up and realized that she had wet herself. ‘We have to go now, Ki.' ‘I want Mattie! I want Mommy! I want my Mattie, make her stop being hurt! Make her stop being dead!' I hurried across the trailer. On the way to the door I passed the end-table with the Mary Higgins Clark novel on it. I noticed the tangle of hair ribbons again ribbons perhaps tried on before the party and then discarded in favor of the scrunchy. They were white with bright red edges. Pretty. I picked them up without stopping, stuffed them into a pants pocket, then switched Ki to my other arm. ‘I want Mattie! I want Mommy! Make her come back!' She swatted at me, trying to make me stop, then began to buck and kick in my arms again. She drummed her fists on the side of my head. ‘Put me down! Land me! Land me!' ‘No, Kyra.' ‘Put me down! Land me! Land me! PUT ME DOWN!' I was losing her. Then, as we came out onto the top step, she abruptly stopped struggling. ‘Give me Stricken! I want Stricken!' At first I had no idea what she was talking about, but when I looked where she was pointing I understood. Lying on the walk not far from the pot with the key underneath it was the stuffed toy from Ki's Happy Meal. Strickland had put in a fair amount of outside playtime from the look of him the light-gray fur was now dark-gray with dust but if the toy would calm her, I wanted her to have it. This was no time to worry about dirt and germs. ‘I'll give you Strickland if you promise to close your eyes and not open them until I tell you. Will you promise?' ‘I promise,' she said. She was trembling in my arms, and great globular tears the kind you expect to see in fairy-tale books, never in real life rose in her eyes and went spilling down her cheeks. I could smell burning grass and charred beefsteak. For one terrible moment I thought I was going to vomit, and then I got it under control. Ki closed her eyes. Two more tears fell from them and onto my arm. They were hot. She held out one hand, groping. I went down the steps, got the dog, then hesitated. First the ribbons, now the dog. The ribbons were probably okay, but it seemed wrong to give her the dog and let her bring it along. It seemed wrong but . . . It's gray, Irish, the UFO voice whispered. You don't need to worry about it because it's gray. The stuffed toy in your dream was black. I didn't know exactly what the voice was talking about and had no time to care. I put the stuffed dog in Kyra's open hand. She held it up to her face and kissed the dusty fur, her eyes still closed. ‘Maybe Stricken can make Mommy better, Mike. Stricken a magic dog.' ‘Just keep your eyes closed. Don't open them until I say.' She put her face against my neck. I carried her across the yard and to my car that way. I put her on the passenger side of the front seat. She lay down with her arms over her head and the dirty stuffed dog clutched in one pudgy hand. I told her to stay just like that, lying down on the seat. She made no outward sign that she heard me, but I knew that she did. We had to hurry because the old-timers were coming. The old-timers wanted this business over, wanted this river to run into the sea. And there was only one place we could go, only one place where we might be safe, and that was Sara Laughs. But there was something I had to do first. I kept a blanket in the trunk, old but clean. I took it out, walked across the yard, and shook it down over Mattie Devore. The hump it made as it settled around her was pitifully slight. I looked around and saw John staring at me. His eyes were glassy with shock, but I thought maybe he was coming back. The belt was still clamped in his teeth; he looked like a junkie preparing to shoot up. ‘Iss ant eee,' he said This can't be. I knew exactly how he felt. ‘There'll be help here in just a few minutes. Hang in there. I have to go.' ‘Go air?' I didn't answer. There wasn't time. I stopped and took George Kennedy's pulse. Slow but strong. Beside him, Footman was deep in unconsciousness, but muttering thickly. Nowhere near dead. It takes a lot to kill a daddy. The jerky wind blew the smoke from the overturned car in my direction, and now I could smell cooking flesh as well as barbecued steak. My stomach clenched again. I ran to the Chevy, dropped behind the wheel, and backed out of the driveway. I took one more look at the blanket-covered body, at the three knocked-over men, at the trailer with the line of black bulletholes wavering down its side and its door standing open. John was up on his good elbow, the end of the belt still clamped in his teeth, looking at me with uncomprehending eyes. Lightning flashed so brilliantly I tried to shield my eyes from it, although by the time my hand was up, the flash had gone and the day was as dark as late dusk. ‘Stay down, Ki,' I said. ‘Just like you are.' ‘I can't hear you,' she said in a voice so hoarse and choked with tears that I could barely make out the words. ‘Ki's takin a nap wif Stricken.' ‘Okay,' I said. ‘Good.' I drove past the burning Ford and down to the foot of the hill, where I stopped at the rusty bullet-pocked stop-sign. I looked right and saw the pickup truck parked on the shoulder. BAMM CONSTRUCTION on the side. Three men crowded together in the cab, watching me. The one by the passenger window was Buddy Jellison; I could tell him by his hat. Very slowly and deliberately, I raised my right hand and gave them the finger. None of them responded and their stony faces didn't change, but the pickup began to roll slowly toward me. I turned lift onto 68, heading for Sara Laughs under a black sky. Two miles from where Lane Forty-two branches off the highway and winds west to the lake, there stood an old abandoned barn upon which one could still make out faded letters reading DONCASTER DAIRY. As we approached it, the whole eastern side of the sky lit up in a purple-white blister. I cried out, and the Chevy's horn honked by itself, I'm almost positive. A thorn of lightning grew from the bottom of that light-blister and struck the barn. For a moment it was still completely there, glowing like something radioactive, and then it spewed itself in all directions. I have never seen anything even remotely like it outside of a movie theater. The thunderclap which followed was like a bombshell. Kyra screamed and slid onto the floor on the passenger side of the car with her hands clapped to her ears. She still clutched the little stuffed dog in one of them. A minute later I topped Sugar Ridge. Lane Forty-two splits left from the highway at the bottom of the ridge's north slope. From the top I could see a wide swath of TR-90 woods and fields and barns and farms, even a darkling gleam from the lake. The sky was as black as coal dust, flashing almost constantly with internal lightnings. The air had a clear ochre glow. Every breath I took tasted like the shavings in a tinderbox. The topography beyond the ridge stood out with a surreal clarity I cannot forget. That sense of mystery swarmed my heart and mind, that sense of the world as thin skin over unknowable bones and gulfs. I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that the pickup truck had been joined by two other cars, one with a V-plate that means the vehicle is registered to a combat veteran of the armed services. When I slowed down, they slowed down. When I sped up, they sped up. I doubted they would follow us any farther once I turned onto Lane Forty-two, however. ‘Ki? Are you okay?' ‘Sleepun,' she said from the footwell. ‘Okay,' I said, and started down the hill. I could just see the red bicycle reflectors marking my turn onto Forty-two when it began to hail great big chunks of white ice that fell out of the sky, drummed on the roof like heavy fingers, and bounced off the hood. They began to heap in the gutter where my windshield wipers hid. ‘What's happening?' Kyra cried. ‘It's just hail,' I said. ‘It can't hurt us.' This was barely out of my mouth when a hailstone the size of a small lemon struck my side of the windshield and then bounced high into the air again, leaving a white II mark from which a number of short cracks radiated. Were John and George Kennedy lying helpless out in this? I turned my mind in that direction, but could sense nothing. When I made the left onto Lane Forty-two, it was hailing almost too hard to see. The wheelruts were heaped with ice. The white faded out under the trees, though. I headed for that cover, flipping on my headlights as I went. They cut bright cones through the pelting hail. As we went into the trees, that purple-white blister glowed again, and my rearview mirror went too bright to look at. There was a rending, crackling crash. Kyra screamed again. I looked around and saw a huge old spruce toppling slowly across the lane, its ragged stump on fire. It carried the electrical lines with it. Blocked in, I thought. This end, probably the other end, too. We're here. For better or for worse, we're here. The trees grew over Lane Forty-two in a canopy except for where the road passed beside Tidwell's Meadow. The sound of the hail in the woods was an immense splintery rattle. Trees were splintering, of course; it was the most damaging hail ever to fall in that part of the world, and although it spent itself in fifteen minutes, that was long enough to ruin a season's worth of crops. Lightning flashed above us. I looked up and saw a large orange fireball being chased by a smaller one. They ran through the trees to our left, setting fire to some of the high branches. We came briefly into the clear at Tidwell's Meadow, and as we did the hail changed to torrential rain. I could not have continued driving if we hadn't run back into the woods almost immediately, and as it was the canopy provided just enough cover so I could creep along, hunched over the wheel and peering into the silver curtain falling through the fan of my headlights. Thunder boomed constantly, and now the wind began to rise, rushing through the trees like a contentious voice. Ahead of me, a leaf-heavy branch dropped into the road. I ran over it and listened to it thunk and scrape and roll against the Chevy's undercarriage. Please, nothing bigger, I thought . . . or maybe I was praying. Please let me get to the house. Please let us get to the house. By the time I reached the driveway the wind was howling a hurricane. The writhing trees and pelting rain made the entire world seem on the verge of wavering into insubstantial gruel. The driveway's slope had turned into a river, but I nosed the Chevy down it with no hesitation we couldn't stay out here; if a big tree fell on the car, we'd be crushed like bugs in a Dixie cup. I knew better than to use the brakes the car would have heeled sideways and perhaps have been swept right down the slope toward the lake, rolling over and over as it went. Instead I dropped the transmission into low range, toed two notches into the emergency brake, and let the engine pull us down with the rain sheeting against the windshield and turning the log bulk of the house into a phantom. Incredibly, some of the lights were still on, shining like bathysphere portholes in nine feet of water. The generator was working, then . . . at least for the time being. Lightning threw a lance across the lake, green-blue fire illuminating a black well of water with its surface lashed into surging whitecaps. One of the hundred-year-old pines which had stood to the left of the railroad-tie steps now lay with half its length in the water. Somewhere behind us another tree went over with a vast crash. Kyra covered her ears. ‘It's all right, honey,' I said. ‘We're here, we made it.' I turned off the engine and killed the lights. Without them I could see little; almost all the day had gone out of the day. I tried to open my door and at first couldn't. I pushed harder and it not only opened, it was ripped right out of my hand. I got out and in a brilliant stroke of lightning saw Kyra crawling across the seat toward me, her face white with panic, her eyes huge and brimming with terror. My door swung back and hit me in the ass hard enough to hurt. I ignored it, gathered Ki into my arms, and turned with her. Cold rain drenched us both in an instant. Except it really wasn't like rain at all; it was like stepping under a waterfall. ‘My doggy!' Ki shrieked. Shriek or not, I could hardly hear her. I could see her face, though, and her empty hands. ‘Stricken! I drop Stricken!' I looked around and yes, there he was, floating down the macadam of the driveway and past the stoop. A little farther on, the rushing water spilled off the paving and down the slope; if Strickland went with the flow, he'd probably end up in the woods somewhere. Or all the way down to the lake. ‘Stricken!' Ki sobbed. ‘My DOGGY!' Suddenly nothing mattered to either of us but that stupid stuffed toy. I chased down the driveway after it with Ki in my arms, oblivious of the rain and wind and brilliant flashes of lightning. And yet it was going to beat me to the slope the water in which it was caught was running too fast for me to catch up. What snagged it at the edge of the paving was a trio of sunflowers waving wildly in the wind. They looked like God-transported worshippers at a revival meeting: Yes, Jeesus! Thankya Lawd! They also looked familiar. It was of course impossible that they should be the same three sunflowers which had been growing up through the boards of the stoop in my dream (and in the photograph Bill Dean had taken before I came back), and yet it was them; beyond doubt it was them. Three sunflowers like the three weird sisters in Macbeth, three sunflowers with faces like searchlights. I had come back to Sara Laughs; I was in the zone; I had returned to my dream and this time it had possessed me. ‘Stricken!' Ki bending and thrashing in my arms, both of us too slippery for safety. ‘Please, Mike, please!' Thunder exploded overhead like a basket of nitro. We both screamed. I dropped to one knee and snatched up the little stuffed dog. Kyra clutched it, covered it with frantic kisses. I lurched to my feet as another thunderclap sounded, this one seeming to run through the air like some crazy liquid bullwhip. I looked at the sunflowers, and they seemed to look back at me Hello, Irish, it's been a long time, what do you say? Then, resettling Ki in my arms as well as I could, I turned and slogged for the house. It wasn't easy; the water in the driveway was now ankle-deep and full of melting hailstones. A branch flew past us and landed pretty much where I'd knelt to pick up Strickland. There was a crash and a series of thuds as a bigger branch struck the roof and went rolling down it. I ran onto the back stoop, half-expecting the Shape to come rushing out to greet us, raising its baggy not-arms in gruesome good fellowship, but there was no Shape. There was only the storm, and that was enough. Ki was clutching the dog tightly, and I saw with no surprise at all that its wetting, combined with the dirt from all those hours of outside play, had turned Strickland black. It was what I had seen in my dream after all. Too late now. There was nowhere else to go, no other shelter from the storm. I opened the door and brought Kyra Devore inside Sara Laughs. The central portion of Sara the heart of the house had stood for almost a hundred years and had seen its share of storms. The one that fell on the lakes region that July afternoon might have been the worst of them, but I knew as soon as we were inside, both of us gasping like people who have narrowly escaped drowning, that it would almost certainly withstand this one as well. The log walls were so thick it was almost like stepping into some sort of vault. The storm's crash and bash became a noisy drone punctuated by thunderclaps and the occasional loud thud of a branch falling on the roof. Somewhere in the basement, I guess a door had come loose and was clapping back and forth. It sounded like a starter's pistol. The kitchen window had been broken by the topple of a small tree. Its needly tip poked in over the stove, making shadows on the counter and the stove-burners as it swayed. I thought of breaking it off and decided not to. At least it was plugging the hole. I carried Ki into the living room and we looked out at the lake, black water prinked up in surreal points under a black sky. Lightning flashed almost constantly, revealing a ring of woods that danced and swayed in a frenzy all around the lake. As solid as the house was, it was groaning deeply within itself as the wind pummelled it and tried to push it down the hill. There was a soft, steady chiming. Kyra lifted her head from my shoulder and looked around. ‘You have a moose,' she said. ‘Yes, that's Bunter.' ‘Does he bite?' ‘No, honey, he can't bite. He's like a . . . like a doll, I suppose.' ‘Why is his bell ringing?' ‘He's glad we're here. He's glad we made it.' I saw her want to be happy, and then I saw her realizing that Mattie wasn't here to be happy with. I saw the idea that Mattie would never be here to be happy with glimmer in her mind . . . and felt her push it away. Over our heads something huge crashed down on the roof, the lights flickered, and Ki began to weep again. ‘No, honey,' I said, and began to walk with her. ‘No, honey, no, Ki, don't. Don't, honey, don't.' ‘I want my mommy! I want my Mattie!' I walked her the way I think you're supposed to walk babies who have colic. She understood too much for a three-year-old, and her suffering was consequently more terrible than any three-year-old should have to bear. So I held her in my arms and walked her, her shorts damp with urine and rainwater under my hands, her arms fever-hot around my neck, her cheeks slathered with snot and tears, her hair a soaked clump from our brief dash through the downpour, her breath acetone, her toy a strangulated black clump that sent dirty water trickling over her knuckles. I walked her. Back and forth we went through Sara's living room, back and forth through dim light thrown by the overhead and one lamp. Generator light is never quite steady, never quite still it seems to breathe and sigh. Back and forth through the ceaseless low chiming of Bunter's bell, like music from that world we sometimes touch but never really see. Back and forth beneath the sound of the storm. I think I sang to her and I kn ow I touched her with my mind and we went deeper and deeper into that zone together. Above us the clouds ran and the rain pelted, dousing the fires the lightning had started in the woods. The house groaned and the air eddied with gusts coming in through the broken kitchen window, but through it all there was a feeling of rueful safety. A feeling of coming home. At last her tears began to taper off. She lay with her cheek and the weight of her heavy head on my shoulder, and when we passed the lakeside windows I could see her eyes looking out into the silver-dark storm, wide and unblinking. Carrying her was a tall man with thinning hair. I realized I could see the dining-room table right through us. Our reflections are ghosts already, I thought. ‘Ki? Can you eat something?' ‘Not hung'y.' ‘Can you drink a glass of milk?' ‘No, cocoa. I cold.' ‘Yes, of course you are. And I have cocoa.' I tried to put her down and she held on with panicky tightness, scrambling against me with her plump little thighs. I hoisted her back up again, this time settling her against my hip, and she subsided. ‘Who's here?' she asked. She had begun to shiver. ‘Who's here ‘sides us?' ‘I don't know.' ‘There's a boy,' she said. ‘I saw him there.' She pointed Strickland toward the sliding glass door which gave on the deck (all the chairs out there had been overturned and thrown into the corners; one of the set was missing, apparently blown right over the rail). ‘He was black like on that funny show me and Mattie watch. There are other black people, too. A lady in a big hat. A man in blue pants. The rest are hard to see. But they watch. They watch us. Don't you see them?' ‘They can't hurt us.' ‘Are you sure? Are you, are you?' I didn't answer. I found a box of Swiss Miss hiding behind the flour cannister, tore open one of the packets, and dumped it into a cup. Thunder exploded overhead. Ki jumped in my arms and let out a long, miserable wail. I hugged her, kissed her cheek. ‘Don't put me down, Mike, I scared.' ‘I won't put you down. You're my good girl.' ‘I scared of the boy and the blue-pants man and the lady. I think it's the lady who wore Mattie's dress. Are they ghosties?' ‘Yes.' ‘Are they bad, like the men who chased us at the fair? Are they?' ‘I don't really know, Ki, and that's the truth.' ‘But we'll find out.' ‘Huh?' ‘That's what you thought. â€Å"But we'll find out. â€Å"‘ ‘Yes,' I said. ‘I guess that's what I was thinking. Something like that.' I took her down to the master bedroom while the water heated in the kettle, thinking there had to be something left of Jo's I could pop her into, but all of the drawers in Jo's bureau were empty. So was her side of the closet. I stood Ki on the big double bed where I had not so much as taken a nap since coming back, took off her clothes, carried her into the bathroom, and wrapped her in a bathtowel. She hugged it around herself, shaking and blue-lipped. I used another one to dry her hair as best I could. During all of this, she never let go of the stuffed dog, which was now beginning to bleed stuffing from its seams. I opened the medicine cabinet, pawed through it, and found what I was looking for on the top shelf: the Benadryl Jo had kept around for her ragweed allergy. I thought of checking the expiration date on the bottom of the box, then almost laughed out loud. What difference did that make? I stood Ki on the closed toilet seat and let her hold on around my neck while I stripped the childproof backing from four of the little pink-and-white caplets. Then I rinsed out the tooth-glass and filled it with cold water. While I was doing this I saw movement in the bathroom mirror, which reflected the doorway and the master bedroom beyond. I told myself that I was only seeing the shadows of windblown trees. I offered the caplets to Ki. She reached for them, then hesitated. ‘Go on,' I said. ‘It's medicine.' ‘What kind?' she asked. Her small hand was still poised over the little cluster of caplets. ‘Sadness medicine,' I said. ‘Can you swallow pills, Ki?' ‘Sure. I taught myself when I was two.' She hesitated a moment longer looking at me and looking into me, I think, ascertaining that I was telling her something I really believed. What she saw or felt must have satisfied her, because she took the caplets and put them in her mouth, one after another. She swallowed them with little birdie-sips from the glass, then said: ‘I still feel sad, Mike.' ‘It takes awhile for them to work.' I rummaged in my shirt drawer and found an old Harley-Davidson tee that had shrunk. It was still miles too big for her, but when I tied a knot in one side it made a kind of sarong that kept slipping off one of her shoulders. It was almost cute. I carry a comb in my back pocket. I took it out and combed her hair back from her forehead and her temples. She was starting to look put together again, but there was still something missing. Something that was connected in my mind with Royce Merrill. That was crazy, though . . . wasn't it? ‘Mike? What cane? What cane are you thinking about it?' Then it came to me. ‘A candy cane,' I said. ‘The kind with stripes.' From my pocket I took the two white ribbons. Their red edges looked almost raw in the uncertain light. ‘Like these.' I tied her hair back in two little ponytails. Now she had her ribbons; she had her black dog; the sunflowers had relocated a few feet north, but they were there. Everything was more or less the way it was supposed to be. Thunder blasted, somewhere close a tree fell, and the lights went out. After five seconds of dark-gray shadows, they came on again. I carried Ki back to the kitchen, and when we passed the cellar door, something laughed behind it. I heard it; Ki did, too. I could see it in her eyes. ‘Take care of me,' she said. ‘Take care of me cause I'm just a little guy. You promised.' ‘I will.' ‘I love you, Mike.' ‘I love you, too, Ki.' The kettle was huffing. I filled the cup to the halfway mark with hot water, then topped it up with milk, cooling it off and making it richer. I took Kyra over to the couch. As we passed the dining-room table I glanced at the IBM typewriter and at the manuscript with the cross-word-puzzle book lying on top of it. Those things looked vaguely foolish and somehow sad, like gadgets that never worked very well and now do not work at all. Lightning lit up the entire sky, scouring the room with purple light. In that glare the laboring trees looked like screaming fingers, and as the light raced across the sliding glass door to the deck I saw a woman standing behind us, by the woodstove. She was indeed wearing a straw hat, with a brim the size of a cartwheel. ‘What do you mean, the river is almost in the sea?' Ki asked. I sat down and handed her the cup. ‘Drink that up.' ‘Why did the men hurt my mommy? Didn't they want her to have a good time?' ‘I guess not,' I said. I began to cry. I held her on my lap, wiping away the tears with the backs of my hands. ‘You should have taken some sad-pills, too,' Ki said. She held out her cocoa. Her hair ribbons, which I had tied in big sloppy bows, bobbed. ‘Here. Drink some.' I drank some. From the north end of the house came another grinding, crackling crash. The low rumble of the generator stuttered and the house went gray again. Shadows raced across Ki's small face. ‘Hold on,' I told her. ‘Try not to be scared. Maybe the lights will come back.' A moment later they did, although now I could hear a hoarse, uneven note in the gennie's roar and the flicker of the lights was much more noticeable. ‘Tell me a story,' she said. ‘Tell me about Cinderbell.' ‘Cinderella.' ‘Yeah, her.' ‘All right, but storyguys get paid.' I pursed my lips and made sipping sounds. She held the cup out. The cocoa was sweet and good. The sensation of being watched was heavy and not sweet at all, but let them watch. Let them watch while they could. ‘There was this pretty girl named Cinderella ‘ ‘Once upon a time! That's how it starts! That's how they all start!' ‘That's right, I forgot. Once upon a time there was this pretty girl named Cinderella, who had two mean stepsisters. Their names were . . . do you remember?' ‘Tammy Faye and Vanna.' ‘Yeah, the Queens of Hairspray. And they made Cinderella do all the really unpleasant chores, like sweeping out the fireplace and cleaning up the dogpoop in the back yard. Now it just so happened that the noted rock band Oasis was going to play a gig at the palace, and although all the girls had been invited . . . ‘ I got as far as the part about the fairy godmother catching the mice and turning them into a Mercedes limousine before the Benadryl took effect. It really was a medicine for sadness; when I looked down, Ki was fast asleep in the crook of my arm with her cocoa cup listing radically to port. I plucked it from her fingers and put it on the coffee-table, then brushed her drying hair off her forehead. ‘Ki?' Nothing. She'd gone to the land of Noddy-Blinky. It probably helped that her afternoon nap had ended almost before it got started. I picked her up and carried her down to the north bedroom, her feet bouncing limply in the air and the hem of the Harley shirt flipping around her knees. I put her on the bed and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Thunder boomed like artillery fire, but she didn't even stir. Exhaustion, grief, Benadryl . . . they had taken her deep, taken her beyond ghosts and sorrow, and that was good. I bent over and kissed her cheek, which had finally begun to cool. ‘I'll take care of you,' I said. ‘I promised, and I will.' As if hearing me, Ki turned on her side, put the hand holding Strickland under her jaw, and made a soft sighing sound. Her lashes were dark soot against her cheeks, in startling contrast to her light hair. Looking at her I felt myself swept by love, shaken by it the way one is shaken by a sickness. Take care of me, I'm just a little guy. ‘I will, Ki-bird,' I said. I went into the bathroom and began filling the tub, as I had once filled it in my sleep. She would sleep through it all if I could get enough warm water before the generator quit entirely. I wished I had a bath-toy to give her in case she did wake up, something like Wilhelm the Spouting Whale, but she'd have her dog, and she probably wouldn't wake up, anyway. No freezing baptism under a handpump for Kyra. I was not cruel, and I was not crazy. I had only disposable razors in the medicine cabinet, no good for the other job ahead of me. Not efficient enough. But one of the kitchen steak knives would do. If I filled the washbasin with water that was really hot, I wouldn't even feel it. A letter T on each arm, the top bar drawn across the wrists For a moment I came out of the zone. A voice my own speaking as some combination of Jo and Mattie screamed: What are you thinking about? Oh Mike, what in God's name are you thinking about? Then the thunder boomed, the lights flickered, and the rain began to pour down again, driven by the wind. I went back into that place where everything was clear, my course indisputable. Let it all end the sorrow, the hurt, the fear. I didn't want to think anymore about how Mattie had danced with her toes on the Frisbee as if it were a spotlight. I didn't want to be there when Kyra woke up, didn't want to see the misery fill her eyes. I didn't want to get through the night ahead, the day that was coming beyond it, or the day that was coming after that. They were all cars on the same old mystery train. Life was a sickness. I was going to give her a nice warm bath and cure her of it. I raised my arms. In the medicine cabinet mirror a murky figure a Shape raised its own in a kind of jocular greeting. It was me. It had been me all along, and that was all right. That was just fine. I dropped to one knee and checked the water. It was coming in nice and warm. Good. Even if the generator quit now, it would be fine. The tub was an old one, a deep one. As I walked down to the kitchen to get the knife, I thought about climbing in with her after I had finished cutting my wrists in the hotter water of the basin. No, I decided. It might be misinterpreted by the people who would come here later on, people with nasty minds and nastier assumptions. The ones who'd come when the storm was over and the trees across the road cleared away. No, after her bath I would dry her and put her back in bed with Strickland in her hand. I'd sit across the room from her, in the rocking chair by the bedroom windows. I would spread some towels in my lap to keep as much of the blood off my pants as I could, and eventually I would go to sleep, too. Bunter's bell was still ringing. Much louder now. It was getting on my nerves, and if it kept on that way it might even wake the baby. I decided to pull it down and silence it for good. I crossed the room, and as I did a strong gust of air blew past me. It wasn't a draft from the broken kitchen window; this was that warm subway-air again. It blew the Tough Stuff crossword book onto the floor, but the paperweight on the manuscript kept the loose pages from following. As I looked in that direction, Bunter's bell fell silent. A voice sighed across the dim room. Words I couldn't make out. And what did they matter? What did one more manifestation one more blast of hot air from the Great Beyond matter? Thunder rolled and the sigh came again. This time, as the generator died and the lights went out, plunging the room into gray shadow, I got one word in the clear: Nineteen. I turned on my heels, making a nearly complete circle. I finished up looking across the shadowy room at the manuscript of My Childhood Friend. Suddenly the light broke. Understanding arrived. Not the crossword book. Not the phone book, either. My book. My manuscript. I crossed to it, vaguely aware that the water had stopped running into the tub in the north-wing bathroom. When the generator died, the pump had quit. That was all right, it would be plenty deep enough already. And warm. I would give Kyra her bath, but first there was something I had to do. I had to go down nineteen, and after that I just might have to go down ninety-two. And I could. I had completed just over a hundred and twenty pages of manuscript, so I could. I grabbed the battery-powered lantern from the top of the cabinet where I still kept several hundred actual vinyl records, clicked it on, and set it on the table. It cast a white circle of radiance on the manuscript in the gloom of that afternoon it was as bright as a spotlight. On page nineteen of My Childhood Friend, Tiffi Taylor the call-girl who had re-invented herself as Regina Whiting was sitting in her studio with Andy Drake, reliving the day that John Sanborn (the alias under which John Shackleford had been getting by) saved her three-year-old daughter, Karen. This is the passage I read as the thunder boomed and the rain slashed against the sliding door giving on the deck: FRIEND, by Noonan/Pg. 19 over that way, I was sure of it,' she said, ‘but when I couldn't see her anywhere, I went to look in the hot tub.' She lit a cigarette. ‘What I saw made me feel like screaming, Andy Karen was underwater. All that was out was her hand . . . the nails were turning purple. After that . . . I guess I dived in, but I don't remember; I was zoned out. Everything from then on is like a dream where stuff runs together in your mind. The yard-guy Sanborn shoved me aside and dived. His foot hit me in the throat and I couldn't swallow for a week. He yanked up on Karen's arm. I thought he'd pull it off her damn shoulder, but he got her. He got her.' In the gloom, Drake saw she was weeping. ‘God. Oh God, I thought she was dead. I was sure she was.' I knew at once, but laid my steno pad along the left margin of the manuscript so I could see it better. Reading down, as you'd read a vertical crossword-puzzle answer, the first letter of each line spelled the message which had been there almost since I began the book: owls undEr stud O Then, allowing for the indent next-to-last line from the bottom: owls undEr studIO Bill Dean, my caretaker, is sitting behind the wheel of his truck. He has accomplished his two purposes in coming here welcoming me back to the TR and warning me off Mattie Devore. Now he's ready to go. He smiles at me, displaying those big false teeth, those Roebuckers. ‘If you get a chance, you ought to look for the owls,' he tells me. I ask him what Jo would have wanted with a couple of plastic owls and he replies that they keep the crows from shitting up the woodwork. I accept that, I have other things to think about, but still . . . ‘It was like she'd come down to do that errand special,' he says. It never crosses my mind not then, at least that in Indian folklore, owls have another purpose: they are said to keep evil spirits away. If Jo knew that plastic owls would scare the crows off, she would have known that. It was just the sort of information she picked up and tucked away. My inquisitive wife. My brilliant scatterbrain. Thunder rolled. Lightning ate at the clouds like spills of bright acid. I stood by the dining-room table with the manuscript in my unsteady hands. ‘Christ, Jo,' I whispered. ‘What did you find out?' And why didn't you tell me? But I thought I knew the answer to that. She hadn't told me because I was somehow like Max Devore; his great-grandfather and my own had shit in the same pit. It didn't make any sense, but there it was. And she hadn't told her own brother, either. I took a weird kind of comfort from that. I began to leaf through the manuscript, my skin crawling. Andy Drake rarely frowned in Michael Noonan's My Childhood Friend. He scowled instead, because there's an owl in every scowl. Before coming to Florida, John Shackleford had been living in Studio City, California. Drake's first meeting with Regina Whiting occurred in her studio. Ray Garraty's last-known address was the Studio Apartments in Key Largo. Regina Whiting's best friend was Steffie Underwood. Steffi's husband was Towle Underwood there was a good one, two for the price of one. Owls under studio. It was everywhere, on every page, just like the K-names in the telephone book. A kind of monument, this one built I was sure of it not by Sara Tidwell but by Johanna Arlen Noonan. My wife passing messages behind the guard's back, praying with all her considerable heart that I would see and understand. On page ninety-two Shackleford was talking to Drake in the prison visitors' room sitting with his wrists between his knees, looking down at the chain running between his ankles, refusing to make eye-contact with Drake. FRIEND, by Noonan/Pg. 92 only thing I got to say. Anything else, fuck, what good would it do? Life's a game, and I lost. You want me to tell you that I yanked some little kid out of the water, pulled her up, got her motor going again? I did, but not because I'm a hero or a saint . . . ‘ There was more but no need to read it. The message, owls under studio, ran down the margin just as it had on page nineteen. As it probably did on any number of other pages as well. I remembered how deliriously happy I had been to discover that the block had been dissolved and I could write again. It had been dissolved all right, but not because I'd finally beaten it or found a way around it. Jo had dissolved it. Jo had beaten it, and my continued career as a writer of second-rate thrillers had been the least of her concerns when she did it. As I stood there in the flicker-flash of lightning, feeling my unseen guests swirl around me in the unsteady air, I remembered Mrs. Moran, my first-grade teacher. When your efforts to replicate the smooth curves of the Palmer Method alphabet on the blackboard began to flag and waver, she would put her large competent hand over yours and help you. So had Jo helped me. I riffled through the manuscript and saw the key words everywhere, sometimes placed so you could actually read them stacked on different lines, one above the other. How hard she had tried to tell me this . . . and I had no intention of doing anything else until I found out why. I dropped the manuscript back on the table, but before I could re-anchor it, a furious gust of freezing air blew past me, lifting the pages and scattering them everywhere in a cyclone. If that force could have ripped them to shreds, I'm sure that it would have. No! it cried as I grabbed the lantern's handle. No, finish the job! Wind blew around my face in chill gusts it was as if someone I couldn't quite see was standing right in front of me and breathing in my face, retreating as I moved forward, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf outside the houses of the three little pigs. I hung the lantern over my arm, held my hands out in front of me, and clapped them together sharply. The cold puffs in my face ceased. There was now only the random swirling air coming in through the partially plugged kitchen window. ‘She's sleeping,' I said to what I knew was still there, silently watching. ‘There's time.' I went out the back door and the wind took me at once, making me stagger sideways, almost knocking me over. And in the wavering trees I saw green faces, the faces of the dead. Devore's was there, and Royce's, and Son Tidwell's. Most of all I saw Sara's. Everywhere Sara. No! Go back! You don't need no truck with no owls, sugar! Go back! Finish the job! Do what you came for! ‘I don't know what I came for,' I said. ‘And until I find out, I'm not doing anything.' The wind screamed as if in offense, and a huge branch split off the pine standing to the right of the house. It fell on top of my Chevrolet in a spray of water, denting the roof before rolling off on my side. Clapping my hands out here would be every bit as useful as King Canute commanding the tide to turn. This was her world, not mine . . . and only the edge of it, at that. Every step closer to The Street and the lake would bring me closer to that world's heart, where time was thin and spirits ruled. Oh dear God, what had happened to cause this? The path to Jo's studio had turned into a creek. I got a dozen steps down it before a rock turned under my foot and I fell heavily on my side. Lightning zigged across the sky, there was the crack of another breaking branch, and then something was falling toward me. I put my hands up to shield my face and rolled to the right, off the path. The branch splashed to the ground just behind me, and I tumbled halfway down a slope that was slick with soaked needles. At last I was able to pull myself to my feet. The branch on the path was even bigger than the one which had landed on the roof of the car. If it had struck me, it likely would have bashed in my skull. Go back! A hissing, spiteful wind through the trees. Finish it! The slobbering, guttural voice of the lake slamming into the rocks and the bank below The Street. Mind your business! That was the very house itself, groaning on its foundations. Mind your business and let me mind mine! But Kyra was my business. Kyra was my daughter. I picked up the lantern. The housing was cracked but the bulb glowed bright and steady that was one for the home team. Bent over against the howling wind, hand raised to ward off more falling branches, I slipped and stumbled my way down the hill to my dead wife's studio.