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Master Plans
Downtown Master Plan
Downtown Master Plan
The Fayetteville Downtown Master Plan was created during the winter of 2004 through an intensive public participation process guided by consultants Dover, Kohl and Partners. The final vision document was adopted by City Council in April of 2004; the zoning code and map were adopted October 3, 2006.
There are six fundamental strategies are laid out by the Downtown Master Plan. These include:
Create and showcase a walkable environment
Get more people living downtown
Create smart parking-- sustainable and efficient parking that enhances sense of place
Develop smart rules that outperform current zoning and attract desirable development
Create a series of interconnected special places
Develop the experience-based economy of the downtown by expanding the focus on arts, culture and entertainment
Recommended Ordinances
Almost all of the policies and ordinances recommended by the Fayetteville Downtown Master Plan have been accomplished. These include:
Conversion of one-way streets back to two-way streets
Enhancements to the downtown square
Downtown College Avenue improvements
Adoption of Master Street Plan cross-sections for downtown
Creation and adoption of four new downtown zoning districts
Creation and adoption of downtown architectural standards
Adoption of an outdoor street vendor ordinance
Repair and replacement of sidewalks
Creation of the Dickson Street entertainment district
Block Avenue improvements
Downtown District Code
Fayetteville Downtown Master Plan
Cover Page (PDF)
Executive Summary (PDF)
Table of Contents (PDF)
Chapter 1 How this Plan was Created (PDF)
Chapter 2 Plan Fundamentals (PDF)
Chapter 3 Short and Long Term Projects (PDF)
Chapter 4 Market and Economic Analysis (PDF)
Chapter 5 Implementation Strategy (PDF)
Appendices A-E (PDF)
Appendices F-G (PDF)
Appendix H (PDF)
Appendix I (PDF)
Appendix J (PDF)
2019 Bond Information
71B Corridor Plan
Active Transportation Plan
City Plan 2040
Cultural Arts Corridor
Digital Inclusion Plan
Small Cell Installation
Downtown Master Plan
Drainage Improvement Plan
Economic Development Plan
Energy Action Plan
Fayetteville Mobility Plan
Master Street Plan
Neighborhood Plans
Parks Master Plan
Parking Master Plan
Recycling & Trash Master Plan
Water Master Plan
Welcoming Fayetteville Plan
Workforce Development Plan
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Former Auto Plant Finds New Life As Nursing School
UC Clermont To Offer Classes At Batavia Facility
Hundreds of local workers lost their jobs when Ford closed its plant in Batavia, but the University of Cincinnati is breathing new life into the vacant building.
The former transmission manufacturing plant is undergoing construction work to transform it into a new campus that will offer jobs and educational opportunities.
"This is going to go through some pretty dramatic changes in the next couple of months," said Darrell Bossert, spokesman for developer Industrial Realty Group.
The developer bought the facility that will allow the university to expand its course offering at UC Clermont College and offer four-year programs there as part of its "UC East" program.
"We've had a very aggressive construction schedule getting started and taking out all the walls," Bossert said. "Just a week and a half ago you would have come in here, (and) there would have been walls up everywhere."
Two entire floors each nearly as large as a football field are being reconstructed in the plant's former office space.
"We're hoping our space will be ready for us in early August so we can move some programs off this campus out there and be ready for Sept. 22, when school starts," said Mick McLaughlin, dean of UC Clermont.
IRG has developed similar properties, including a distribution center located at the former Lorain, Ohio, Ford plant.
"The nice thing is, we have a blank canvass here for these companies to come in and custom fit an area for them," Bossert said.
More than 4,000 students currently attend classes at the Batavia campus.
UC will begin offering new classes at the new facility this fall, and a four-year nursing program and two-year physical therapy program will be among the first courses offered at the new facility.

subset: commoncrawl


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Escape to the Movies: Avengers: Assemble!
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This week MovieBob gathers all the clues that seem to point to an Avengers film.
and great nerdgasm!
Hell, all I know is: Nick Fury = Samuel L. Jackson.
Even if Iron Man 2 sucks, I'm going to feel happy after watching it.
That said, I have the problem that it's very likely that an Avengers movie is going to fuck up the continuity of 3-5 different film franchises, and that's if they DON'T decide to make a movie based on "Civil War". Like Bob said, there are MANY differences with the different films, even if they're all set loosely in the same universe.
Some very fascinating stuff there, Bob. I'm not really into marvel and I haven't seen Iron Man 1 or The Incredible Hulk (the latter because I've seen Ang Lee's version and I'm terrified!) But maybe I should consider seeing them now..
But what's ironic about this is I was just having this conversation with my boyfriend last night, and he seems to think the same thing... Now I have to see all this, just so I can see it come to some sort of head.
Nice nerdgasm.
Here is a way to make continuity a non issue:
Hopefully they take more cues from the Ultimate Universe. Whenever they copy that it turns out awesome.
Could there have been anything hidden in Spiderman? I thought he was Marvel too. Not that I'd like more of Toby but Spiderman has always been my favorite comic character and to see him wisecrack and annoy Cap would be awsome for me
Ugh, do you know how MESSY time travel is going to make the cannon? You'd be better off just saying Mephisto has just been fucking with everyone.
Hmmm, seems interesting to say the least, never saw the scene at the end of Iron Man, or Hulk. But still I like your views on Scarlett Johansson, couldnt agree more
Sadly, Spiderman and X-men as movie franchises are owned by different studios. This was before superhero movies got big enough that Marvel could justify its own studio. Still, the contracts will run out eventually.
Anyway, this Avengers stuff is pretty cool. Let's just hope it doesn't lead to the Civil War stuff, though.
I was expecting "Date Night".
This was way better.
Time to start brushing up on my Marvel. Without tracking down 100s of comics. Anyone have a good reference site?
Well, if there was ever a reason for nerdgasm, this is it.
Yes Scarlett Johansen in skin-tight body suit.
Thor..wonder how Fundamental Christian groups will take to a depiction of a Norse Man-God as an American hero.Cant wait to see how that story is depicted.
kinda ninja'd
There was a clip from Iron Man 2 that supposedly contained Donald Blake.
I don't believe Mr. Statham will turn down any movies since Dungeon Siege. I know I would want to do as many movies as possible to get that taste out of my mouth.
all the comics you need:
TVTropes mate, they have a fairly long-winded explanation of most of the major Marvel/DC franchises (although you may never re-emerge from that place...)
Failing that, just Wikipedia the fucker.
Enjoyed that review ... I don't care so much about crossing story lines too much. Just the attempt albeit loose is cool. As well studios can simply reboot the storyline as need be and in general people don't seem to care too much.
Iron man 1 had comment that howard stark worked on the Manhattan project, so yeah, he was alive during the war.
Is it weird that I find the idea of all these movies being made is hotter than Scarlet Johansen as Black Widow?
I always thought that thunderstorm in the middle of the Hulk film was related to Thor... I'm just speculating here but what if in the Thor movie... that Thunderstorm is made reference to and is shown to have been caused by Thor... maybe in a big battle or just testing out powers. Given the way these two films have worked with references to each other. I wouldn't be surprised one bit. What do you reckon Bob?... do you think that the storm was just a coincidence or a nod to the Thor movie?.
I'm really excited to see how the Avengers movie ends up as long as there are no serious issues with the Captain America and Thor movies.
Speaking of, have they announced the villains for those yet? Been a little while since I looked and it could help determine who will be the Big Bad (or Bads) for the Avengers. Although I suppose they could always have a Hulk goes nuts plot since that is usually entertaining.
There is no way they'd do Civil War for a first Avengers movie, especially when so many Marvel characters are contracted with other studios. Maybe for a sequel though which could be neat or terrible since the whole storyline is kinda hit or miss.
Ok who do I send the cleaning bill to for the load i blew in my shorts.
I'm really looking forward to Iron Man 2. It's a bold move to tie all these films in together, but if done right it could be the greatest thing ever. The Avengers movie will be the hardest one to write/direct as you'd have to marry all the movies' styles and tones together, but still make it fresh. Good luck Marvel.
I suppose it's too much to hope for that the Spiderman reboot will get in on this. Marvel lost the movie rights or something, correct?
I've been keeping my eye on this - it's nice that you compiled it all.
Cannot WAIT for these. Marvel have always seemed to have more of a proactive force in moviemaking compared to DC, and so indeed - good stuff.
Probably nerdiest thing ive heard on Escapist...
I'm pretty sure they have the actors pinned down for both Thor and Captain America. Kirk's dad from star trek and then the human torch as captain america.
so, I guess no review of Date Night...
the 2 animated movies were very good, but he didnt mention a single thing of spiderman
Awesome recap Bob. But there is even more to add to the nerdgasm and the theory that Tony Starks father had something to do with the creation of Captain America.
Good stuff
You are such a nerd and it only makes me love you more (in a less creepy, non-gay kinda way).
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| 5.2°C Belfast
Garry Monk's reign as permanent manager was launched in style as Swansea prevented Sunderland from ending their season with five successive Barclays Premier League wins.
The Swans raced into a 2-0 lead within 14 minutes of the kick-off when first Nathan Dyer and then Marvin Emnes produced finishes of real quality with the home side in disarray.
Fabio Borini dragged the home side back into it with a 50th-minute header, his 10th goal of the season, but Wilfried Bony's strike four minutes later dented their hopes once again to seal a 3-1 victory for the visitors.
Victory for the visitors ensured they remained ahead of resurgent Sunderland in the table with Gus Poyet's men targeting an improbable 12th-place finish before kick-off just four days after securing their top-flight status in memorable style.
But for the locals among a crowd of 45,580 at the Stadium of Light, it was still a day of celebration despite their side losing at home in the league for the 11th time this season.
Just a few weeks ago, it appeared that the final day of the campaign would be marked by either a desperate scrap for survival or worse, a Premier League wake.
In the event, the red and white faithful turned out to celebrate an improbable fightback which had been completed against the odds without having to resort to last-gasp heroics.
It was probably just as well as Poyet's side, in stark contrast to recent weeks, started lethargically and were made to pay a heavy price.
Whether it was the mental and physical effects of a tense few weeks or simply a bad day at the office, the Black Cats were torn apart inside the opening quarter of an hour and found themselves facing the steepest of climbs.
Monk, taking charge for the first time since his appointment was confirmed, made six changes and two of those who benefited from his largesse took full advantage.
Dyer could hardly believe his luck when, with just seven minutes on the clock, Wayne Routledge played him in behind left-back Phil Bardsley, but he kept his nerve to lift a deft shot over the advancing Vito Mannone and into the back of the net.
Not to be outdone, Emnes demonstrated his prowess seven minutes later when, after receiving strike-partner Bony's pass with his back to goal, effortlessly turned John O'Shea and blasted a left-footed shot past the Italian 'keeper.
Sunderland, who were struggling to contain Routledge and Dyer in particular, finally started to find their feet and worked their way into the game, but were rarely able to find a final ball to trouble Gerhard Tremmel in the Swansea goal.
Indeed, the German's most anxious moment came when Sebastian Larsson's 27th-minute cross flicked off defender Jordi Amat's head and came back off the foot of the post.
Bardsley warmed Tremmel's fingertips with a rising 25-yard strike a minute before the break, but the deficit remained untouched when the half-time whistle sounded.
The Black Cats started the second half with much greater urgency than they had the first, and they were back in the game within five minutes when Borini met Adam Johnson's corner at the near post and headed firmly past Swans goalkeeper Tremmel.
Tremmel preserved his side's lead with a solid diving save after Johnson had cut inside and unleashed a left-foot shot seconds later and the mood inside the Stadium of Light had altered dramatically.
However, the visitors responded in determined fashion and re-established their advantage with 54 minutes gone when Jack Colback could only help Emnes' cross out to Bony, who stepped outside Bardsley before firing home off the inside of the post.
Tremmel had to get down well to keep out Sebastian Larsson's swerving 71st-minute free-kick and substitute Ondrej Celustka could not convert the rebound from a tight angle.
The game ambled towards its conclusion with both sides still committing men in attack, but safe in the knowledge that there was little at stake other than pride.
Substitute Jozy Altidore might have ended a difficult season in style with an 84th-minute missile which flew just high and wide, but that was as good as it got.


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Fox News anchor Shep Smith has remained the lone, bewildered voice of semi-reason on the channel since George W. Bush declared that the mission had been accomplished. And today, he shared his true feelings on the nature of the political beast: it's bullshit.
After reading a statement from the Romney campaign about what dear friends Mittens and Annenberg are with Newtilda and his twenty-seventh wife Calismopolitan, Smith paused for a moment before declaring to his audience that politics is both weird and creepy, and completely divorced from reality.
I feel dirty having a mild brain crush on someone who is almost certainly a Replicant.


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Dead Fred asks:Are you a Desperate Genealogist?
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Last Name: Niemotka
First Name: Wojciech
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Subject's City: Chicago
Subject's State: IL
Subject's County: Cook
Subject's Country: United States
Date: 1901-1920
Photographer: Nicklas & Co.
Photographer's City: Chicago
Photographer's State: IL
Nee: Mocarski
Type**: WED
Comments: Wojciech Niemotka (Nee: Mocarski) | Chicago IL United States | 1901-1920 | Comments: On the marriage record, Kazimiera's maiden name is written both Masarska and Moczarska. Kazimiera later married someone surnamed Gancarz. Her obit stated that her maiden name was Mocarski. Her husband's name was not written on this photo but hers was as Kazimiera Niemotka and she did marry Wojciech "Albert" Niemotka in 1914.
This rescued photo was acquired at a second hand store in Chetek, Wisconsin where a relative had lived. Surnames on other photos in this group were Klepadlo, Gienko, Wietrzykowski. Please contact me if these are your relatives.
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I'm loathe to wander down this path again, after the horror that was Nintendo's marketing push for the last Smash Bros., but these characters are probably important enough to warrant the update: Nathan Drake and BioShock's Big Daddy will be making an appearance in PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale.
While their reveal was surely meant to be as part of some grandiose E3 presentation, the pair showed up on a character voting poll on the game's site over the weekend, spilling the beans a little early.
The Big Daddy will presumably come with two attacks: drill, and stomp. Drake, meanwhile, will be a little more diverse, able to take down opponents with a swoon, tuck, half-tuck or the dreaded double tuck.
Big Daddy and Nathan Drake revealed for PlayStation All Stars [NeoGAF]


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What is the cost to advertise in the Hispanos Unidos? The Hispanos Unidos is one of the larger weekly newspapers in the San Diego, CA area. The newspaper has a weekly circulation of approximately 26,000. The parent company of the publication is AH/HU Associates, Inc.
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To place an ad, or receive more information on advertising rates, please contact the Hispanos Unidos at (760) 740-9561.
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More like 100 million magic beans
US attorneys are trying to drum up interest in a potential case against Facebook, claiming its Credits virtual currency is breaking US antitrust law. The firm, Newman DuWors, has thrown up the site Stopfacebookcredits.com to attract game developers and providers of virtual currencies who believe their businesses have been or …
Next time you go to the casino, try and bet marbles instead of the casino's chips, see where that gets you. Or try paying in zlotys on a US website, for that matter.
Although it would be interesting to see FB lose this one; surely itunes, Sony, Microsoft (no, maybe not them, I hear they dropped MS points) etc would be next against the wall, with a nice jurisprudence too.
Seriously, whoever pays this guy for that suicide lawsuit has to be the nuttiest nutter in the sucksack. Especially as FB only has a monopole on, erm, FB; I am sure all Zucky-Zucky's lawyers will have to do will be to point at Google+ advertised figures and the lawsuit will be classed as frivolous faster than you can say "Sorry your Honor my attorney turned out to be a crook".
Actually the answer is that it depends...
First suppose there's a company ... Wild Bob's Jerky Shop that has an external Website along with its own brick and mortar shop. They have presence on FB and accept FB credits. Suppose they honor FB credits on their external site too. Then what you have is FB creating its own currency. Then the case has merit.
Is this the case? Or is FB currency only good on FB? That's why its a tough call.
So ...
As to your argument... It falls flat. You have a casino. You exchange $5.00 USD for a chip. That chip is only good for that specific casino and if the casino changes the chips out, that old chip has no real value. So its a marker not currency. Nor could you use that chip as currency off the floor.
But I agree... lawyers fishing to see if they can get class action status for an easy win.( Read: Settlement)
> As to your argument... It falls flat. You exchange $5.00 USD for a chip. That chip is only good for that specific casino and if the casino changes the chips out, that old chip has no real value. So its a marker not currency. Nor could you use that chip as currency off the floor.
I might be mistaken, but isn't it exactly how FB credits work? I also suspect that in casino-rich areas (Vegas, Monte Carlo, ...) you can actually use your chips off the floor, because everyone will recognise them for what they are worth, and know where to exchange them for real money.
xRegarding Las Vegas, a hotel's chips are limited to that hotel. Even casinos owned by the same company will not accept a sister casino's chips. For example, MGM Mirage own several casinos linked by skybridges, but New York New York won't let you gamble with MGM Grand chips but will allow you to accrue rewards points/ meal comps across the company.
Back to Facebook, I'm not sure how much this differs from XBox Live's use of Microsoft Points. Perhaps the crux would be the fact that Xbox isn't holding a majority of the console game market while Facebook is the undisputed dominate force in social networks. Unless FB are taking a fee for using FB credits, I really don't see the problem that makes this an antitrust issue.
(Are they skimming revenue from FB credits or is it a straight passthrough in exchange for customer habits and purchase info?)
> a hotel's chips are limited to that hotel.
Again, what is the difference with FB credits?
> Facebook is the undisputed dominate force in social networks
I wouldn't be so bold. They are dominant only in their section of the social network market. Even if you only consider "leisure general purpose social networks", not so undisputedly dominant, especially if you take Google's figures at face value (I am sure Zucky-Zucky's lawyers will). Then there is the argument that "leisure general purpose social networks" is not a market /per se/ when it comes to online games or apps. There are plenty of game sites, many of which have "social" features. And, of course, one is always free to launch one's own website. It would be a monopoly if you technically _had_ to use it to reach customers (a bit like MS Windows in the old days, when you could not find a Windows-free computer). Don't forget that FB is _just_ another website. It has a wide audience, so it facilitates the herding of customers, but there is absolutely no technical requirement to go through them. None at all. If you can access Facebook, you can access any other website where the disgruntled devs might put their apps.
Pierre, I'm not in disagreement with you regarding Facebook credits; I don't see a vaild antitrust case where a party could show that Facebook a) has a monopoly and b) used that monopoly to cause that party harm as Microsoft was found to have done to Netscape.
I do disagree that one was forced to use Windows. Alternatives existed even in the old days and one could do just peachy without Windows. What Microsoft did was to use their OS dominance to coerce OEMs not to install Netscape, while integrating IE so thoroughly to Windows that complete removal was highly difficult.
"I might be mistaken, but isn't it exactly how FB credits work? I also suspect that in casino-rich areas (Vegas, Monte Carlo, ...) you can actually use your chips off the floor, because everyone will recognise them for what they are worth, and know where to exchange them for real money.
Try it and see how far you get....
I don't do FB so I don't know how their credits work... Read my initial post. I was commenting that for the suit to hold merit that the credits would have to be accepted by non Facebook third parties.
It's an interesting argument.
I actually went and read the blurb by the landsharks. They accuse FB of doing the same as Apple (30% share, prices must be the same on other platforms). Although FB lacks the device lock-in that makes Apple's system quite a bit worst.
No, really, I can't see the lawsuit OR the attempt at settlement working. But if it does work, then clearly Apple is next.
So how is Apple creating a currency?
I think you're confusing the cost of an app through Apple's App Store and buying credits to be used for an online game.
Again IANAL and I don't use FB so I can't really say anything about the merits of the case, just comment that the case may hold some merit. If even enough to not get tossed, it will more than likely force FB to settle.
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Running scared was the only running he knew--until he learned that they were afraid of him
"There swells and jets his heart...," Mr. Abrams reads, waving his hand through the air.
"Jason, what is Whitman saying here?"
Hearing his name snaps his body stiff, whisks his mind back from the dirt hills of mile two at Sheltered Meadow.
"What the heck is he talking about? 'Singing the body electric?'"
He knows that one, but feels the searing heat of many eyes burning his face. "I dunno'," he whispers.
Someone in back mumbles, "Stinky don't know much," breaking up the class until Mr. Abrams' eyes shoot lasers across the room, quieting them instantly before turning again to Jason.
"'It is in his limbs...his joints...the carriage of his neck...to see him pass conveys as much as the best poem'," the lines dance from Abrams' lips. "You have no idea what any of this means, Mr. Foreman?"
Words swell in his chest, trying in vain to push themselves through his stifled throat while Abrams' eyes become floodlights. The electronic bong of the bell explodes through the class, sending desks squealing and slapping notebooks shut, while Jason falls back into his chair, feeling the air rush from him.
Mr. Abrams drops his head and does an abrupt about-face. "Finish Whitman for Monday," he says, in the matter-of-fact voice he uses when reminding everyone to bring a #2 pencil to class. He sits studying an attendance sheet when Jason passes, and Jason wants to stop and tell him he knew that poem. Knew, because months earlier he'd sat in front of the TV watching the marathon from Boston, the strides of the three leaders so fluid and steady it seemed they ran that race inches above the ground. Then, when two sprinted down that crowded street, he sat long after the finish tape was broken, his eyes fixed, burning, though he didn't understand why. But now he could point to that poem and say, "I think this is what Whitman meant."
His feet, however, steer him out into the halls, where he scans the rushing swarms before stepping forward. He is mostly just ignored here now, and does this out of habit; yet still waits for a jostling bunch of freshman wrestlers to pass before heading off to his locker. Two months into high school and they're more settled here than he is, and he wonders how that can be possible.
An old student had stopped by to visit Mr. Abrams last week. When he left, Abrams said, "See that, enjoy yourself here. You may not believe it now, but you'll miss this place when you're gone." But Jason knew he never would, and that when he was gone he would never need to come back. School had meant fear to him—since that day in junior high, at least, when three boys from gym class wrestled him to the ground, punching and kicking him.
"Look at you," they spit, after letting him go, "Your face looks like a bomb exploded. And that nose—too bad it doesn't point north, at least you'd never get lost."
The mirror couldn't deny it, either—his nose shot like an arrow from a face riddled with splotches of red. After a few weeks of listening to them he had to brush his teeth with his head bowed to the sink, because he swore every time he looked that nose had gotten bigger, or another tract of clear skin had been overrun.
"Your nose is fine. You just have to grow into it," his mother would say, assuring him he was imagining it all. By that time, though, everyone at school seemed to have noticed, too.
He was a story to them. Half joke, half urban legend—a small, scared sixth-grader in a junior high locker room that stunk sharp and brown with sweat, one boy standing over him, the rest circling him into a corner.
"You pushed me, man," the boy said, shoving him so that he crashed into the lockers with a sound like a broken drum.
"I tripped, I'm sorry," he choked, their eyes a hundred angry blades against his throat.
Would this be the time when they would not stop, he had wondered then. Will they kill me this time? And the fear that gripped his mind took his body as well, that locker room starting to smell worse than before.
It took them a moment to realize, but then their shouts were deafening, even while they backed away. He stood listening to their delight echo off the lockers and down the halls, wishing he could somehow bargain for that beating.
"Go on, get yourself cleaned up," the gym coach said, as if he'd merely had a rough workout. "You can tell me what happened later."
So that is who he was. That story, and nickname after nickname. Stinky, in front of teachers, far worse when they weren't around. And he knew that is who he would be to them forever. That is who he'd be in this place forever. He wouldn't ever come back here.
The hell with what Abrams said.
School was fine for people like Mr. Abrams, Jason thinks, threading his way through the hall, his name is still scattered around in trophy cases from when he was a student here fifteen years ago. He was one of them. But when you come from the Apartments—even without a freakish nose, or ravaged skin, or a father you know only from the story your mother tells when she's had too many drinks—this school is never yours.
That's because the Apartments are a freak themselves—a bump in the district's map the school board fought to redraw sometime before Mr. Abrams was king. So you have here kids who curse their parents for making them drive a three-year-old truck to school, or kids from the Apartments, who dye their hair black as coal, and who Jason will hear sometimes on gray and cold afternoons slurring insults from the woods behind the track while he burns through countless 400s.
Cobain is one of those, now. His real name is Billy, but everyone calls him Cobain because of the Nirvana shirts he wears. He and Jason became friends when Cobain moved in across the hall the summer before junior high. But the Apartments, and the woods, and their easy temptations, won out, so their friendship was reduced to a few words when passing in the hall.
He sometimes wondered what he had inherited from his father—the nose, of course, but had the speed come from him also? Like some consolation prize for his absence? If so, he would take it—he'd long ago stopped grieving for someone that had been there for one night of his mother's life and none of his.
But that was only part of it. The rest those boys had given him—the trip home from junior high becoming his afternoon's nightmare. He'd sit in that last class waiting for the final bell, every book loaded into his knapsack so he wouldn't need to stop at his locker. They would find him, nevertheless, and the fitful dash would begin from the school gate. Weighted down by the books, they'd catch him in a few hundred yards, shoving him to the ground and dumping the contents of that knapsack across the road, carnival faces laughing from the yellow buses while he scrambled around trying to pick the mess up. Then he'd sprint the mile and a half home to be away from it all.
Through those big glass doors he'd carry those books and that fear, tiptoeing the angry halls until it was time for that mad dash—the few hundred yards it took to catch him becoming a quarter mile, then half, then halfway down the Turnpike almost. By the end of the seventh grade they needed their bicycles to stay even close.
On the first day of high school gym class Jason's stomach had churned until the coach led them out to the track.
"Four laps," he shouted, "And go easy. It's your first time. If you need to walk that's okay."
But the only running he knew was running scared, so while the rest of them staggered, bending double and choking for air, he ran that mile at fear's pace. When he finished the coach stood checking his watch, asking his name like no one had asked his name before.
"Jason Foreman," he said through heaving breaths, the clawing pain in his legs shrinking away, leaving bricks of lead there.
"You run in junior high, Mr. Foreman?"
"No," he said, not thinking for a moment of the everyday race home.
"Well that's the second fastest mile on this track all year. And the first was Ben Watson, the lead runner on my cross-country squad. What do you think about running on the team?"
"I don't play sports. I mean I'm not an athlete or anything."
The coach laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, you are son. You may not know it, but you are."
At first he'd stay with the team until his legs began to noodle at the intersection by the Apartments. They'd soon become a great bouncing splotch of red on the horizon, racing that final mile. When he reached the track they'd be laughing and stretching, their backs turned, and every day he promised himself he wouldn't come back, because it was the same with them as it was with everyone else—they wouldn't forget, nor forgive, his past.
Jason pulls on sweats in the empty locker room, tying his shoes and tiptoeing as he passes Coach's office.
"Foreman I do not want you running today." Jason turns to see Coach still sitting in his chair with his back to the door, and wonders how he knew it was him. "What do you think you're going to accomplish?" Coach asks, spinning the chair around.
"I'm just going to loosen up."
"You're not gonna' get any better today. Go home and rest."
Mr. Abrams steps out from the back of the office. "I'll take care of him, Coach. Foreman, I'm driving you home, and I don't want to hear a word."
"Mr. Abrams, what're you doing here?"
"Going over volleyball rosters," he says, pulling his jacket from a chair and pointing out to the parking lot.
His head swivels in every direction as he backs the gold truck from its space. "That's all I need is to run some kid over," he laughs, "parents would probably say I did it on purpose. How do you feel?"
"They're afraid of you, you know."
"Afraid of me? Who?"
"The whole team. Coach. Watson, especially. You almost beat him last year, and he hasn't gotten that much better. Watson's a senior, if he wins the County's maybe it helps him get a scholarship somewhere. You scare him like crazy. And Coach is afraid to tell you anything—afraid he might ruin you."
"I dunno'."
"Start knowing. You live here, right?" He steers the truck into the Apartments without waiting for an answer. "Brings back memories. This was home for me, too."
"You? I thought you—"
"You thought I was one of them, didn't you?" Mr. Abrams laughs, "I guess I can see why, but it's not like I tried to be anything other than myself. When you start doing that you'll scare everybody."
"Thanks for the ride."
"Get your rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? You're coming?"
"I heard how you run. Maybe you can give me a poetry lesson."
When his eyes open the window is still gray. He lies in bed until the alarm rings, watching sunlight crawl atop his mother's unruffled bed across the hall. After showering he sips hot tea, flipping through the television without watching before heading out. The October mornings have just started to chill, but he knows the cold is a lie—it will warm up by race time. His legs are tight; it seems forever since he ran yesterday morning.
The bus that will take them to Sheltered Meadow is sitting empty in the school lot, so he pries the door open with his fingers and lies across one of the middle seats, feeling cold vinyl seeping through his sweats.
A short while later he hears voices—first Coach's, the rest coming all at once, it seems. When the bus finally pulls away he sits up, watching the Saturday morning shake off the dawn: yawning faces turning over 'Closed' signs in store windows, preparing for the day. He would switch places with any of them right now, knowing the journey to the cliff of his pain is ahead and he will soon need to balance himself atop that narrow edge of suffering that towers over the great black canyon of collapse.
Ben Watson is clowning in the back of the bus as they pull through the gate at Sheltered Meadow. "This is Coach at spring track practice," he says, raising his voice so Coach will hear. "Son, you ran that last 400 in forty-three flat, which happens to be a new world record. But let me ask you this: How is that going to help you in a thirty-two? Remember, consistency is key. Now get out there and give me seven more."
Jason's lips curl, while Coach turns and snarls in mock anger. The tightness in his stomach pulls the smile away. It's always like this before the race. Sometimes he wishes he could cover himself with a blanket until the start—but always, with the gun, and the movement, all of that leaves.
The bus is passing the line of orange cones that mark the flat first mile. He traces them with his eyes to where they disappear behind picnic tables, his stomach jumping again. Cardiac Hill, a half mile of dirt and worn-thin asphalt that stares right in your face as you climb it, sits just beyond. There is the race, he thinks. The pack will still be thick there, but after Cardiac, and the smaller hills in the trails that snake behind it, they'll shoot from those woods in a long, loose string onto the soggy turf. The crowd on the boardwalk will cheer as those hills leave their legs and they begin to push that final half-mile.
Last year, it was him and Watson, side by side. He felt himself pulling away and reached the boardwalk alone, surprised at first by the cheers of the crowd.
Go! Go!, they screamed, and he had to turn his head to see if it was someone next to him they were cheering. When he saw no one, he felt the jagged breaths catch in his throat and allowed their voices in, feeling them shoot through his legs.
The finish line was an orange thread when he heard shouts for someone else. Catch him, they called, and he tried to gauge the lead with his ears, the way he did on those panicked runs home from junior high. He knew it was Watson still, with that kick that was like an explosion and stole races from front runners, or left the pack thinking they'd had a chance until the tape was in sight and he'd be suddenly gone.
The boardwalk then became those sidewalks home, where he would trade unknown punishment for the screaming white pain that he owned. He had sometimes wondered during those chases if it would be better to just stop and take whatever they had to give. In races he found a similar question came: Could the shame of quitting be any worse than the torture he put himself through?
Watson's footsteps remained those seconds behind, and he was at one with it all. The panic in his chest, the tearing claws at the tops of his legs—he had swallowed them in answer to that question, so that the pain became like some claustrophobic Room of Horrors. When he first joined the team he thought racing would get easier as the body conditioned itself, and that he wouldn't need to put himself in that place anymore. He imagined himself running like he did now along the Turnpike—smooth and easy. He knew now that it didn't get easier; it didn't because no matter how fast you become that is what a race is: putting yourself in that Room and finding out how long you can stay there.
A runner flashed alongside of him at the Refreshment House, where the long glass windows reflected the orange October sun. The runner had the stride of those marathoners he had seen on TV—quick and long and machine-steady. His back was straight, though his shoulders pitched subtly over, leaving no doubt that body's sole purpose was forward motion. The sight of it filled his chest, so much so that his breathing stumbled and his stride hiccuped and he found himself hands first through the air.
Distant voices shouted, Get up! while Watson's feet drummed the wooden planks. There were more then. Suddenly. Passing by him like some great rumbling animal. Coach came to him later, in minutes that felt like hours.
Are you Okay?
I am, he told him, I am okay. He got up, the splinters in his hands and knees burning, salt-water gales turning sweat into thousands of icy daggers across his chest and back. At the bus they were high-fiving Watson.
What the hell happened? someone from the crowd asked.
I tripped, he shrugged, the crowd laughing together.
The bus stops with a great forward lurch and the door squawks open. The team bounces and stretches and jumps around the parking lot. Watson shadowboxes with Harry Saunders, stepping behind him and grabbing his shorts while the crowd pleads for a wedgie. Jason begins a slow trot across the parking lot toward the boardwalk, feeling the morning's cold already surrendering to the sun. On the boardwalk, a time clock runs its way down to zero next to where the orange tape will be strung. Stopping, he looks meter by meter across the pale wood to where he had fallen.
He walks to the spot, surprised how quickly he reaches it. Last year's race plays itself out again in his mind while he stares at his reflection in the tinted glass of the Refreshment House, seeing himself again flying across the Earth.
"Foreman! What the hell are you doing!"
The voice startles him—it's out of place, and he turns to see Cobain, leather jacket swinging from the roll of his shoulders.
"Cob-uh...Billy, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you, man. Make sure you don't trip this year. I don't want to have to quit smoking and come beat these geeks myself. It would ruin my image."
"I'll try not to."
"Just pretend they're chasing you from school again," Cobain laughs, a dry, hacking laugh. "I'm going to catch a coffee then I'm stationing myself right here until you fly by."
Jason turns back to the glass, the air still full of leather and smoke—the smell of the Apartments. He knows he can't do what Cobain said, can't pretend anymore that he is being chased. Something has happened in this second year of running. He no longer concerns himself with who is behind him. His mind now sets on what lay out in front: the next runner, the orange tape, and sometimes, when he is gliding along smooth and easy, things that stretch on far past the horizon. He hears his name again and turns to see Mr. Abrams walking from down by the clock.
Looking again into that black glass, he realizes that this was where he had first known Whitman, and he brushes his fingers across his face, atop that great nose, then down his chin, before turning to say hello.
Gus A. Isaksson runs 40-50 miles a week, mostly on the North Shore of Long Island, where he lives and works. His first piece of published fiction appeared in the Summer 2001 issue of Struggle magazine.


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by Nina Dweck
Here's an easy way to take gift wrapping to the next level when topped with a glamorous ribbon. Get creative - mix and match ribbons to coordinate with your event, or choose your recipients favorite color. Have fun by embellishing your bow with rhinestones, pom poms or even feathers!
Shown in the picture is a Sephardic bridal "Swanee", in which the groom's parents send over gifts for the Jewish bride. Gifts usually include candlesticks for Shabbat, a tray, perfumes, and a purse with money enclosed for the bride to attend the mikveh. This swanee is "closed", meaning that the gifts are wrapped and will be opened during a private time for the bride and her close friends and relatives.
For this project, you'll need a glue gun, scissors, and ribbon in your desired width and color. Keep in mind that a larger gift will look better with a wider ribbon, while a smaller one will look fine with a thinner one. It is very important that you use wire edged ribbon to make the bow. It will look stiffer and prettier. I buy my ribbon from Cosco- they sell beautiful wide wired edge ribbons in varying colors, and are very inexpensive. They especially have a wide selection around holiday time so stock up for future projects!
Not in the mood to go buy ribbon? Watch the video above and learn how to make a bow out of recycled wrapping paper or any paper that you have laying around the house. Its a great eco-friendly wrapping idea!
- Step one: lie your box or gift on a flat surface. Glue a piece of ribbon horizontally and then cross another piece of ribbon over vertically. Take care to place the vertical ribbon under the horizontal one to hide the seams for a more perfect finish. Use your hot glue gun to stick the pieces together.
2. Step two: Cut a long piece of ribbon for the bow. The longer the piece, the larger the bow will be.
3. Step three: Take one end of the ribbon and fold about an inch in, gluing to creating a small circle. You can place your index finger in the circle to make a rounder piece.
4. Step four: Fold another circle in, this one a bit larger than the first. Glue this one under to the left of the first small circle. Follow this step and make another circle on the right.
5. Step five: Continue, each set becoming larger than the last. Keep on going until you have the desired bow size. When your done, fold the edge of the remaining ribbon and cut on an angle across the closed side. This will create two triangle edges for a beautiful, professional finish.


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Climate change and primary industries
Impacts, adaptation and mitigation in the Nordic countries
Climate change is expected to have a profound impact on natural resources, and thus on the primary industries (agriculture, forestry and fisheries) in the Nordic countries. Climate change induces risks but also creates possibilities for new production systems on land and in the ocean. Climatic changes also represent great challenges for policy-making and management regimes. The current knowledge base on natural resources in the Nordic region needs to be expanded to fully address the impacts of climate change. In particular it is important to address the need for improved policies and new policy instruments. The research programme Climate Change Impacts, Adaptation and Mitigation in Nordic Primary Industries is a coordinated set of thematic research networks with the objective to create a Nordic knowledge base on climate change interactions with primary industries in the Nordic region.


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Barrett-Jackson will be auctioning off eight vehicles from The Sopranos March 26 through March 30 in West Palm Beach, Fla. These are the same cars that Tony and his gang of mobsters regularly did their dirty deeds. The highlighted car is Tony Soprano's 2003 Cadillac Escalade that was driven in the final three seasons of the series. It has only 11,000 miles and the driver-side seat is likely well-broken in. Check out the rest of the cars after the jump.
My personal favorite car being auctioned is Paulie Walnuts' 2003 Cadillac CTS. Yes, this is the same CTS that he used to do donuts in and destroy Christopher Moltisanti's front yard during season six.
Also in the auction is a 1997 Mercury Villager minivan driven by Tony and Paulie as well as a black Cadillac Deville driven by Vito Spatafore. Also a pair of blue Lincoln Town Cars used by Phil Leotardo and the Lupertazzi family will be sold as a pair.
Oddly enough, all of the proceeds from the auction will benefit the Childrens Hospital Los Angeles. I would think a stripper rehabilitation or maybe a gun buyback program would be better programs for the proceeds. Bada bing!
Net Proceeds from "The Sopranos" Cars to Benefit Childrens Hospital Los Angeles
WEST PALM BEACH, Fla., February 28, 2008 - Cars and SUVs driven by the famous TV mobsters on "The Sopranos" will be sold at No Reserve during the 6th Annual Barrett-Jackson Collector Car Event on March 26-30, 2008, in West Palm Beach, Fla. A total of eight vehicles from the award winning HBO series will cross the block, led by Tony Soprano's 2003 Cadillac Escalade ESV, with net proceeds benefiting Childrens Hospital Los Angeles. SPEED will once again bring the action home with 19 hours of TV coverage during the auction as approximately 600 of the finest collector vehicles are sold at No Reserve. For the sixth consecutive year, the event will take place at the spacious Americraft Expo Center at the South Florida Fairgrounds, located at 9067 Southern Boulevard in West Palm Beach.
"From the biggest show on television to the biggest stage in the collector car industry, these movie star vehicles will demand the spotlight in Palm Beach," said Craig Jackson, Chairman/CEO of the Barrett-Jackson Auction Company. "A staple in American pop culture, 'The Sopranos' captured the attention of viewers across the globe, much like Barrett-Jackson events are watched by devoted car enthusiasts worldwide on SPEED. We're thrilled to join forces with HBO for this special project to help raise funds for Childrens Hospital Los Angeles."
The signature piece of "The Sopranos" collection is the white 2003 Cadillac Escalade driven by mob boss Tony Soprano during the final three seasons of the series. Scheduled for sale during SPEED's primetime coverage on Saturday, March 29, the fully loaded Escalade has only 11,000 miles on the odometer and features clear, untinted windshields for exterior camera shots of the show's leading character.
Another high-profile car headed to Barrett-Jackson Palm Beach is the champagne 2003 Cadillac CTS utilized by one of Tony's top soldiers, Paulie Walnuts. The CTS is infamous for its demolition of Christopher Moltisanti's new front yard in the "Kennedy and Heidi" episode during Season 6. Two more vehicles that played key roles in Season 6, a red 1997 Mercury Villager minivan driven by Tony and Paulie and a black Cadillac Deville driven by crew member Vito Spatafore, will also be sold.
"When a TV series becomes as popular as 'The Sopranos,' the cars driven by the larger-than-life characters become stars as well," added Steve Davis, president of Barrett-Jackson. "Another factor that adds to the value of these celebrity vehicles is the 'staying power' of the series. Decades from now, 'The Sopranos' will still be appreciated as one of the top series in TV history, making these star cars significant well into the future."
A pair of blue Lincoln Town Cars, utilized by rival gangster Phil Leotardo and the New York-based Lupertazzi crime family, will be sold as a pair in Palm Beach. The two cars were featured in numerous episodes of "The Sopranos," most notably in the climactic Bada Bing shootout scene in "The Blue Comet" episode during Season 6. Additional cars from that high-energy scene that will be auctioned include two 1993 Cadillacs driven by Patsy Parisi, which will be sold together.
With net proceeds benefiting Childrens Hospital Los Angeles, "The Sopranos" vehicles will join a long list of cars in Palm Beach that will be auctioned for charity. On March 26, Barrett-Jackson will host their annual Opening Night Gala to raise money for The Darrell Gwynn Foundation and the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. During the 2007 Palm Beach event, Barrett-Jackson raised over $500,000 for various charities.


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Like to talk about art and life with other people?
Manchester Art Gallery
Wednesday 9 September 2015, 12.30pm–1pm
Art Bites is about chatting with other people about art. Each week the session focuses on two contrasting art works on display at the gallery. It's a great way to find out what others think and express your own opinions about art.


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The lots listed in this catalog are from an estate and are being offered by Treasure Me Estate Sales, LLC as agent for consignor(s) subject to the following terms and conditions. By bidding at the auction, you agree to be bound by these Conditions of Sale.
ONLINE SALE DATES: Bidding starts at 12 noon Thursday, November 7, 2019. Lots will begin to close every minute beginning with Lot 1 at 7:00pm on Monday, November 18, 2019. Individual closings will be extended 5 minutes when a new bid comes in within 5 minutes of lot closing. You will be automatically emailed if you are outbid and are welcome to enter a max bid (site will bid automatically for you only when another bid surpasses yours until max is reached). Check back often and check your email for outbid notices. A notice will be sent to the winning bidder once all bidding ends. A final invoice will be sent to you the following morning of auction closing.
PICK UP: Pick up is Wednesday, November 20 from 4-7pm and Saturday, November 23 from 9am-2pm in Mantua, NJ. Please bring a photo ID with you for pickup. PLEASE DO NOT BID IF YOU CAN NOT PICK UP ON THIS DATE. If you are sending someone else to pick up your items, please make sure you alert us to this and that the person brings their photo ID. Shipping is available on all items. Buyer will be responsible for all shipping/insurance fees. You MUST communicate with us regarding payment and pick up/shipping plans. Please call 856-952-8721 or email email@example.com with your plans. Please bring containers, boxes, or bags to hold your items. We are not responsible for damage during pickup and moving.
SHIPPING: Shipping is offered within the Continental US for all lots in this sale. Winning bidder is responsible for all shipping and insurance fees, which will be included on their invoice once we are notified of a shipping address. All items must be insured for the high bid amount at minimum. Winning bidder must pay for invoice within 24 hours of receipt. Once paid, our staff will carefully package and ship the items with a signature required upon receipt.
PAYMENT INFO: Treasure Me will accepts credit cards and cash for this auction. You will receive an EMAIL with an attached invoice from Treasure Me Estate Sales, LLC AFTER THE CLOSE OF THE AUCTION. This email will include instructions for payment, pick up, and shipping. Payments will be made at pickup and should be made either with cash or credit cards with a chip. All purchases have a 15% buyer's premium added to the final bid price. This fee is charged by auctioneers to help offset the costs of holding the sale. No sales tax is collected.
ALL ITEMS SOLD AS IS AND WHERE IS, no warranties implied or expressed, no refunds or exchanges. Please bring your own transportation and help to move large items. We are not responsible for any injuries or accidents that occur on or off the premises. Neither the auctioneer nor any consignor or staff member makes any warranties or representation of any kind or nature with respect to the property, and in no event shall they be deemed to have made any representation or statement at the sale or elsewhere to mean otherwise. Due diligence to verify the condition and description of a lot is the sole responsibility of the Bidder prior to placing any bid. No Returns.
Treasure Me Estate Sales, LLC offers lot descriptions to the best of its knowledge presented solely for the convenience of the Purchaser. Prospective bidders should investigate a lot thoroughly before bidding by reviewing all photos and descriptions prior to bidding. Treasure Me Estate Sales, LLC does not accept liability for any omissions or mistakes in the description or photos. By bidding the Bidder acknowledges that Bidder has investigated the lot to his or her satisfaction or that Bidder has chosen not to do so and agrees to accept the lot being bid on with no objections after the sale closes. If you are uncertain or have questions about a lot, please contact us by email at email@example.com with your questions PRIOR to bidding.
PLEASE NOTE: ALL SALES ARE FINAL. Placing a bid is a legally binding obligation.
We understand that sometimes things happen, so we ask for communication on your part as soon possible to let us know if you need to change pick up or cancel your bid. If we do not hear from you or you do not pay for your goods by the end of the pickup time, ownership of all online purchases will be forfeited, and you may lose your right to bid on items in our future sales. After 2 days, we will take the items to donation. You may call us if you have any problems picking up at 856-952-8721 BEFORE YOU BID, We cannot guarantee that alternative pick up times are available, so please don't bid if you aren't sure you can pick up at designated time and place.
Estatesales.org manages the auction for us and will use reasonable efforts to process and acknowledge online bids. Treasure Me Estate Sales, LLC does not accept liability for equipment failure, inability to access the internet or software malfunctions related to the execution of online sale.
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