text:
My sister is posting me a train, piece by piece. She hides minute cogs in the adhesive between stamp and envelope; she traps switches in the envelope's seal. Every letter is a game, a puzzle, a thing to be dissected. I spend hours unfolding and refolding the letters and the little origami cranes she slips in as companions. You never know which folding or unfolding action will release a coupling–bolt the width of my arm, tangle my fingers in a grid or make me stagger under the sudden weight of an entire door panel.
My nextdoor neighbor, Stacy, single mum, keeper of bees, works in robotics, thinks I'm crazy.
"Why are you wasting your time on this clunky, half–built, outdated piece of junk? It's taking up most of your front yard. This half–thing is consuming you! Just buy a train from medusa.com. You can buy a kit. You'll still be able to build it with your own hands. You want to be a craftsman? What kind of craftsman builds when they have only half their materials? She's not even sending you them in order! You need to let it go."
Before I can reply, she's clambered into her share car (60 cents a minute) and is off to pick up Becky from baseball or ballet or something starting with B. Becky only does things that start with the letter B. She failed maths until she was able to reconceptualize it as business basics.
Stacy drives off with a cheery wave. I am alone with my unspoken replies.
This train, this train I'm building is my sister's train. I have to believe that all the pieces will fit. One day this train will be built, the magnets will be activated, and they will find the right tracks, the tracks that lead to my sister and the hidden country that has taken her.
My sister writes to me most days: letters smelling of lilac and brimstone, jasmine and toasted cumin seeds. I try to write back, but I have no postal address. I float letters on rivers, burn them in grimy back alleys that smell of stale oil and fish heads. I leave them for squirrels and rabbits to carry. I write letters on maple leaves and give them to the breeze.
I do not know if they get through. I do not know if there are censors peering over her shoulder.
My sister's letters are full of self–centred inanities. She does not ask me questions about my life. She does not express sadness that I do not write, nor does she express delight upon the receipt of a letter. I must assume there is a level or surveillance, real or implied. She must have some privacy, however: she is slowly posting me a train.
The postman, a woman in khaki shorts and a fluorescent motorcycle jacket, rides her motorcycle up onto the footpath and hands today's letter directly to me rather than putting it in the letterbox.
She smiles and guns the engine, swooping to the next letterbox. I wonder if the strain around her eyes is from the glare or because she thinks I'm odd and doesn't like me. My letterbox is a faded old thing made out of a cut–up plastic milk bottle bolted to a stake. I look around my ramshackle yard, yellow grass dying in the summer heat where it hasn't been squashed flat by my precious junk. The skeletal train, its roof patched with tarpaulins, lists to one side; weeds grow through some of the heavier, more difficult parts to place. Fearful of rust, I used to try to take pieces inside, but away from the open air they ooze viscous black oil that stains the floorboards.
I raise the envelope to my nose; it smells of toasted cocoa and roasting macadamias. I ease the flap open, careful to keep the opening away from my feet. In winter, my left ankle still aches where a falling axel broke it; it took me a year to repay Stacy for the medical care I couldn't afford myself. I think she took out a loan to help me, but never charged me interest. I try not to think about her kindness too much; it makes me feel ashamed.
My sister has written to me on blue paper almost as thin as tissue, crinkling under my fingers. She writes to me about the color of the sky and what it feels like to be completely submerged under water. I rub the rough stubble on my head, remember when we'd pretend to be mermaids, diving deep and swimming towards each other, stopping fast so our heads could be enveloped in strands of hair.
I catch an edge in the folded paper and, wriggling it back and forth, I find several thin sheets of metal that could be roof panels and the top half of a passenger seat. The upholstery is velveteen and matches the paper it came in. I haul the seat up the stairs to the passenger car to where I've bolted the bottom half of a passenger seat upholstered in gold. I slot the top half into the bottom half. The colors don't match, but they do marry. The blue has a warmth that connects to the gold and looking at it, I can imagine I am in a place very far from here.
Next I secure the curved sections of roof panel, ripping away tarps to provide more effective weather protection. I'm standing on the roof, sweating heavily, when Stacy and Becky return from Becky's badminton lesson. Becky's lost in her own world, readjusting the strings on her racket until she looks up and sees me. Becky ditches her racket on the side of the path, the wooden frame bouncing in a way that makes me wince, and runs over.
"Careful!" says Stacy, retrieving the racket and crossing her arms.
Becky leaps up the stairs of the passenger car in one exaggerated bound and peers around before shouting up at me through a hole in the ceiling.
"You got a seat!"
"The rest of a seat, maybe. It's a pity they don't match."
"I wonder why that is? It looks nice anyway," says Becky, flumphing down onto the seat with a satisfying whoomph.
It occurs to me: what if the order in which my sister sends parts is the message? What if it's a code, and if I put the first letters of all the parts in sequence it will spell out her location or directions to get there or names of her captors or that she loves me and misses me and can't wait until we can be together again? What if the letters of the parts she sends me is a code, and she's screaming in pain and I can't hear her, and how will I remember which piece came first? And maybe I could remember and record it, but how will I remember all of it, and for a time I kept log books, yes, and journals, but as the years drew on I forgot and became inconsistent and is my sister screaming in pain and I can't hear her all because I was stupid and dumb and don't have the records to read what she's been telling me even though all the pieces are here? What if she's screaming?
"Are you ok?" I see Becky's face staring up at me, frightened by the clouds that have been chasing my own expressions.
"I'm ok." I clamber down from the roof, my legs shaking as my thoughts swirl in on themselves. I press my face against the warm metal, close my eyes, and try to gather myself.
There is a shriek from inside the passenger car. Adrenaline spikes through my throat as I run to the steps.
"Come see!" I hear Becky shout and giggle. Laughter, not screams.
I leap up the stairs and find Becky curled up on the new seat, her feet pushed into the join between top and bottom. "I'm burrowing!"
Of course she is. I smile with relief, use the smile to force down the rage. How could she scare me like that?
Becky plays on, oblivious to my distress. I force myself to breathe. Becky on the seat looks like she's some passenger on the Orient Express. She's travelling across Europe with frequent stops for sightseeing and sticky sweet drinks in the dining car. Does this train have a dining car? I've mapped out its potentials so many times it's hard to tell what I've built and what I've dreamed. Sometimes I imagine the skeleton of the train growing and burrowing deep into the ground, half–rotten carriages that will be sucked out of the earth like a tap root, should the engine ever roar into life.
Becky stands on the seat, her feet making dainty divots. She grabs the overhead baggage rack and yanks it hard.
Becky ignores me, sharply puts all her weight into it, and hauls the rack out of the wall. I raise my arm, ready to scream. I expect to see my beautiful wall torn ragged by the bolts and Becky's face battered by metal, but instead the wall is smooth, as if the rack had never been there at all. I lower my arm, embarrassed, ashamed, glad she didn't see.
The rack is almost as big as Becky; she doesn't seem to mind and marches down the stairs with it, almost tripping on the way.
As we exit the carriage I glance over to Becky's mum, who's leaning against her car, doing something with her smartphone.
Becky pushes the rack up into the half–built engine room and clambers up the stairs after it.
I follow her.
"You think too much," observes Becky. She's right, but I don't see what that's got to do with her defacing my train.
Becky squats and gets both her hands underneath the overhead rack in a perfect weight lifter position. She frowns, her tiny biceps bulge (I feel a moment of envy at how ripped she is) and she lifts the rack to the height of her armpits and pushes it up against the driver's controls. The rack shifts and bends under her pressure and then slides easily, perfectly marrying to the control panel and turning into a series of buttons and one long lever.
"I'm building," says Becky, primly.
I press my hand against my head. If the parts are malleable and contain as many hidden pockets as the letters, the variables are infinite. How will I piece it together if even the pieces lie to me? I brace myself against the console and try not to throw up. How much of my train is a lie?
"Bulgaria," says Becky. "Belarus. Beirut. Boston. Beijing. Birmingham. Berlin."
"Do you know what this train is for, Becky?" My voice is unpleasantly shrill. "Are you guessing at the places my sister might be?"
"Bora–Bora," she continues, oblivious. "Bristol, but that's an extra twenty dollars."
"Can you take me to my sister?"
Becky's patter suddenly stops. "Take?"
"Drive? Transport? Navigate? Operate this train?"
Becky shakes her head, bewildered.
"Becky! Are you bothering your friend?" Stacy's playtime–is–over voice winds up through the metal housing.
"No, mummy," pipes up Becky. "I'm boggling her."
I squeeze my head between both hands, trying to think of a B word that means travel.
"It's all right, Stacy." I say, "Becky's just showing me where she thinks some of the parts go."
"She's not breaking anything, is she?"
"No, it's perfectly fine." What can I do to buy more time, what do parents like? "Would you like to come up and see? I think you'd enjoy some of the new additions. Could I get you some tea?"
"Thanks, but we have to get dinner ready. Becky! Come down. I need you to help me with the beef and broccoli."
"Broccoli?" says Becky. "Yay!
"Can you bus the train, Becky?" I whisper urgently as she twirls around in preparation to leave. "Broom, broom?"
Becky jumps down the ladder, ignoring me.
"Broccoli is a brassica!" she chants as she bounces into the house.
Once she is gone, the engine room feels empty and drained of color. I wonder what sort of kids my sister would have had if she'd had the chance. I would have made a good auntie. I wonder if I will ever get the chance.
I sit hunched against the wall of the engine room for a long time, trying to see what Becky saw. How, how, how did Becky unfold half a control panel from a luggage rack? I push and prod each part of the engine room. I run my fingernails along every surface and inside the furnace, hoping upholstery and pistons will unfold from them and I will have more pieces to rebuild with.
It's dark when I climb down from the train, and I am hungry and filthy. I fumble through the cupboards in my kitchen, but I am too hungry to eat. Instead I pull down my primary school thesaurus from the shelf and curl up on the only couch in the house. I look up drive, but the synonyms are useless. I play synonym tag, jumping from word to word. I doze off for an hour or two, rouse myself long enough to eat a can of cold baked beans, and fall back to sleep on the couch, the springs digging into my sides are like old friends.
My sister and I moved out of home and in here together, though I am the only one who had the chance to live here, if you call it living. The walls are still bare. She was, is the one with an eye for design. Boxes of posters and ornaments are still stacked on the ground in her room. The dust and cobwebs get thicker every year.
In the morning I shrug out the all–too–familiar cricks in my back and take a spit bath using boiled water from the kettle, an enamel bowl and a cracked bar of soap that was once the color of emeralds.
Thesaurus in hand, I head out to my sister's train and wait for Becky. I tinker with the engine and move bent pieces of steel from one part of the lawn to another. I graze my shin and set my hand to bleeding as I stumble around, one eye distracted and leaning towards Becky's house, my ears straining for the sounds of breakfast and the chance the Becky will come outside.
The morning is awful. What kind of person stakes out a little girl's house?
I can feel my skin desiccating in the sun. I daren't go inside, not even for a moment: what if I miss her?
"You could always ask." I whisper to myself. "What, and come across as a weirdo?"
"As opposed to the sort of person that lingers in their yard, gazing at their neighbor's house with increasing desperation?" I reply.
"Fine, you have a point." I whisper through clenched teeth. "It's all terrible."
I march up Becky's front lawn and bang on the door before I can let myself think. Stacy opens the door instantly, the surprise sending me a step backwards. Stacy's arms are folded, lips pursed, eying me critically.
Creep creep, you're a creep, whispers my internal monologue.
"You're spending too much time in the sun," she says. "Too much time working on that hobby has addled your brain."
I look down at the ground and reflexively count the number of cracks in the tile next to the door frame.
"Come in and have a glass of homemade lemonade," she says.
I follow her into a white, white kitchen. White walls, white tiles, white stove, a painted white wood table with matching white chairs. I half–expect the fruit in the white bowl to be white as well. I wrinkle my nose at the faint smell of bleach.
I sit. Stacy drops four ice cubes in the shape of hearts into a tall, thin glass. The last cube chips when it hits the others. The lemonade is a pale yellow, almost white. She gives me a chocolate chip biscuit and watches me indulgently while I eat and drink. My sister used to give me sweets and drinks just on a whim. She didn't know how to bake, but that didn't stop her. Whenever I eat a burnt ANZAC biscuit I think of her.
"Do you feel better now?"
I nod, not trusting my words. Stacy's arms are crossed, leaning on the polished white table.
"Are you ready to ask for what you want?"
I feel very little. I am taller than Stacy, but it doesn't feel like that right now. It is hard to speak.
"Can Becky come down and play?" I flinch as I blurt out the question, anticipating a blow that does not come. My voice is high and tremulous. I look down at my body, half surprised that I haven't turned into a toddler.
"Becky doesn't play," says Stacy, arms still crossed, not at all surprised.
"Can she… can she… be working on the train with me? Can she brighten my day?"
Stacy gives me a half–smile, "Close enough." She turns her head to holler up the stairs "Becky! Bounce your good self down here!"
Becky barges into the room and smiles when she sees me. I smile nervously in reply, sitting very small, feeling very young.
"How's the train?" says Becky.
"I don't know." It's hard to speak above a whisper. It's hard to acknowledge that after all I've done, I still don't know where I'm going. "But I think you do."
"Outside, girls," says Stacy, clapping her hands. "But wear hats and don't stay out too long." She smears sunscreen on my cheeks, arms, and the back of my neck. She plonks a straw boater onto my head; the straw itches through my stubble. She kisses me on the cheek and gives me an affectionate swat on the bum to get me out the door.
Becky walks slowly up to pieces of junk scattered around my yard, like a big cat stalking its prey "We have to build!"
She pulls pieces of sheet metal out of the ground, hauls bumpers and axles three times her size as if they were Lego pieces, and slides them into place on the train.
"What can I do?" I ask as she carries a stack of wheels to the passenger car.
"Bring me that lever," she says, pointing to a metal lever the size of a crowbar. I pick it up and, yep, it's just as heavy as a crowbar. When I hand it to her she carries it one hand like it was a well–balanced javelin.
She props it into a window frame of the passenger car and it melts into a glass pane and a set of curtains.
Becky moves fast and relentlessly, and within twenty minutes we have disassembled and reassembled all of the parts of the train that are visible. The passenger seat cushions have shifted from yellow and blue to a lush velvet green. The train is whole and practically thrums with life.
"Beautiful," breathes Becky. She has the widest grin I have ever seen. I try to smile in return, but embarrassment and shame make it wobble.
"What's wrong?"
"I just feel stupid, that's all. I've spent years on this and you understand it, you fix it in twenty minutes."
"Don't be silly," Becky crosses her arms and for a moment looks exactly like her mother. "These are just decorations. You built the skeleton."
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can speak she has jumped through the engine room window. I scramble up the stairs and by the time I enter the engine room, she's buffing the shiny controls with her sleeve, humming a tune to herself and snorting with amusement.
I want to say something, but Becky's serenity scares me. I feel like I'm on an empty ocean liner, far out to sea and vulnerable in the Captain's hands.
"Ask me." Becky turns to face me. "Ask me to be your best friend forever. Ask me to give up my favourite pair of trainers. Ask me to cradle you in my heart. Ask me anything."
My heart speaks for me. "Bring me my sister."
"She can't be brought."
"Bring me to my sister."
She looks into the distance, her eyes are old. "It is a long ride. And you won't like parts of it." Then she laughs and claps her hands, her voice returning to a more child–like timbre. "We'll need coats and jackets and woolly underwear and string and candles and something to eat, and something to eat that isn't beetroots."
Becky sticks her head out of the window. "Mum!" she shouts.
"Yes, sweetie?" Stacy's voice is muffled through two windows and several rooms.
"Can we borrow some big coats and food bars and bottles of juice and bound into an adventure?"
"ofwhofcwhohfrohwoh," is all I can make out, Stacy's voice is so far away. I lean my head out of the window and can just make out on the breeze, "Take good care of them and don't spill anything on your clean clothes and only spill on the ground what the ground will take."
"I promise! It's a bargain!" shouts Becky. Clothing appears in a neat pile at our feet and we pull it on as if dressing for a day of sledding and snowball fights. Outside the sun is a baleful yellow orb.
"Ready?" asks Becky.
"R… wait." My eye catches on my letterbox, the faded old thing that my sister and I made together.
"If we leave, how will my sister's letters get to me?"
Becky rolls her eyes. "What makes you think I'd know?"
Becky shakes her head and laughs.
"Just a minute," I wheeze. I go into the house and grab a stack of clean printer paper.
Dear Sis,
I am leaving this house now. I have stayed here for so long, but now I have to go. I have to leave if I am to find you and I don't know if I'll be able to return.
I'm frightened and happy and have a friend who can help me. I don't know what I'm stepping into, but I do know it's time. I will write to you, keep writing to you and hope that my letters reach you. I don't know if your letters will reach me, I have a feeling they won't. Becky says it's a long journey and a cold one, but I will come for you, I promise.
With all my love.
I kiss the envelope and slip the letter into my own letterbox.
"Ready?" asks Becky, her voice a squeal of excitement.
I nod and climb up into the engine room.
"This is your control panel," says Becky in cross faux–grownup tones. "You should know how to operate it."
I gaze at the vast array of switches and levers. I push a big red button. I feel the thrum of pistons engaging, the crackle of magnets switching on and seeking. The train roars into life and pulls itself from the ground.
Becky puts her small hand in mine and I do not flinch. The train hums and snarls and I do not know if it will hurl us into the sky or plunge us into the ground. The train surges forward and shatters the letterbox. Pain ravages my chest and I hold Becky's hand tighter. The last letter spirals up and away, and we follow.
© 2015 Liz Argall and Kenneth Schneyer


text:
Audio Profile: (Re)Making The Grade
Brewster lies about 80 minutes from New York City at the end of the Harlem line. The local high school has a fairly non-diverse crowd of students, most of them college-bound after graduation — the typical lot in a suburban New York public school. There's a stark division between Advanced Placement, or AP, classes and grade-level courses and it manages to worm its way into the school's social pecking order because of course it does. Students will often refer to the grade-level classes as "stupid" or "remedial" and obsess over the social currency their grades provide.
That's why Brewster High School English teacher Marcus Eure decided to take away the entire corrupt system: He removed the grades.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
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Muscle Madness
Debbie Nuessle
Love cars, love writing, love family...that about does it.
Tag Archives: publish
Hello WordPress friends! Been a bit, but for very good reasons. And in true ME fashion, everything seems to be connected in a chaotic, consistent, and continual state. Hence-renaming my 'crafting' room'. It is now called The Studio that Never … Continue reading →
Posted on July 7, 2019 by Debbie | 3 Comments


text:
This June I returned for a second visit to the McKittrick Hotel for Sleep No More. (It was June when I went last year as well.) I nicked this scrap from the room with the coffin; the coffin was covered in these, but this one (among others) had become detached, and was lying on the floor. Upon it has been written with quill and ink A Prayer for a Deceased Woman; to wit:
We beseech Thee, O Lord,
In Thy mercy,
To have pity on the soul of Thy handmaid;
Do Thou, Who hast freed her from the perils of this mortal life,
Restore to her the portion of everlasting salvation.
Through Christ our Lord,


text:
Competitive Program: U9-U19
** Click Here to Register for 2022-2023 Soccer Year **
Professional, Licensed Coaching Staff
2 Team Training Sessions Per Week on Lighted Bermuda Grass Fields
18-24 Club Technical Training Sessions included in Fees (6-8 Per Season: Fall, Winter, Spring)
Competitive League Play in Virginia Soccer League
2 Tournaments Included in Club Fees, Additional Tournaments Possible
Email Us: firstname.lastname@example.com
Step 1: Register.
> Click Here to Register for Tryouts for the 2022-2023 soccer year.
Step 2: Check the Tryout Calendar.
> The tryout calendar is posted above. Check dates, times, and age groups to be sure your player attends the appropriate sessions for their designated age and program. Players who are currently playing up should attend tryouts with their current team unless directed otherwise. Chesapeake United has 2 dates set for youth players and 1 date set for senior players with rain out dates planned in advance. It is strongly suggested that players attend all sessions for their respective age groups. In the event that your player is unable to attend both sessions, please contact firstname.lastname@example.com.
Step 3: Attend Tryouts.
> Players should arrive for their tryout 20-30 minutes ahead of time to ensure proper time for check-in and warm-ups. Be sure to visit the check-in table to get your number when you arrive. Tryouts will start promptly at the times scheduled.
Step 4: Receive Player Placement.
> At the conclusion of tryouts, staff and team coaches will meet to discuss player placements. Once player placement meetings have concluded and all players have been assigned, team assignments will be sent out via email. When you receive this placement, you will have 48 hours to accept your position.
Step 5: Team Meetings & Ordering Uniforms
> When player acceptance is complete and teams are officially formed, you will be contacted by your team coach who will schedule an introductory meeting with the team to discuss summer plans and the start of the fall season. Competitive teams and coaches will also have a meeting as a club with the Technical Director after team meetings are complete. All players should wait for an indication from the club that it is time to order uniforms prior to doing so.
Step 6: Starting Training & Games
> Training will begin in August and games will begin in September with potential for a pre-season tournament in August.
Competitive Program
The Competitive Program at Chesapeake United is the highest level of play for ages U-9 to U-19. All coaches in this program are paid professionals who are licensed by the United States Soccer Federation. Competitive Teams train twice a week during the fall and spring seasons and receive additional technical training by the Technical Director during the fall, winter, and spring seasons (included in fees). Chesapeake United is committed to providing an exceptional youth soccer experience which values competition, sportsmanship, integrity, and hard work each and every day. As a club, we strive to push our players to the "next level" knowing that the "next level" may be different for each individual.
CUSC Competitive Teams participate in the Virginia Soccer League (VSLi) and typically play 8-10 games per season against other Competitive Level teams in the Hampton Roads area. In addition, teams participate in 2 to 4 tournaments per season. One tournament per season is included in the fees for age groups U9-U14.
All players tryout for Competitive teams each spring and are assigned to teams based on age and ability level both mentally and physically. Chesapeake United requires tryouts for all new and returning players each soccer year in the spring before the following fall. If you have questions about the Competitive Program, please contact us at email@example.com.
Competitive Program Fee Structure
- Registration Fee: FREE
- Club Fees: See charts shown above for club fees per year for each age group.
Payments can be paid:
- online by credit card
- by check made payable to "CUSC" and mailed to:
Chesapeake United Soccer Club
PO Box 15524
Chesapeake, VA 23328
- 8 Weeks of League Play Per Season (16 Total for Soccer Year) – Virginia Soccer League
- Two Tournaments – One in the Fall, One in the Spring. (Two additional paid for in team fees)
- Licensed Professional Coaching Salaries
- U.S. Soccer Coaching Education for Competitive Coaches
- 6-8 Weeks of Supplemental Technical Training per Season (12-16 Total for Soccer Year)
- 6-8 week Winter Training Program (January/February/Early March)
- Rentals for Winter Training Facilities
- 2 Team Training Sessions Per Week in Fall & Spring Seasons
- Goalkeeper Specific Training
- Lighted fields at Centerville Park
- College Research & Preparation Program
- Off-field Player Education Meetings
- Technical Staff Program Management
- Video film and review educational sessions
- Registration fees
- Uniform, apparel and individual player gear and equipment
- Coach's Travel Expenses (Hotels, Per Diem)
- Miscellaneous Team Expenses (i.e. Golf Tournament)
These amounts are separate from club fees and are collected and managed by the individual team. Your Team Manager will provide you with additional information about team fees.
- Each new player will be required to purchase the designated set of uniforms for Chesapeake United Travel players which will be the official uniform through each soccer year.
- Player uniforms, apparel, and equipment costs are not included in the Competitive Program Base Fees.
- The current uniform kit includes: 2 Adidas jerseys (White/Black), 1 Competitive Program Adidas training t-shirt (Black), 2 Adidas shorts (White/Black), 2 pair Adidas socks (White/Black). This uniform is ordered from soccer.com once directed by the club post-tryouts.
- After tryouts in May, each selected player will have 48 hours after being notified by the coach to either accept or reject their selection to the team and, if opting to accept, will pay the $200.00 required deposit. This deposit is non-refundable.
- Refunds may be possible when due to an unexpected move or injury. Documentation is required for unexpected moves or injuries when requesting refunds and all refunds will incur a $20 processing fee.
- Chesapeake United is not obligated to provide any refunds. All refund requests are handled on a case-by-case basis. Processing fees may apply in addition to funds allocated for program and club expenses.
Competitive Coaching Slate
Competitive Program / VSLi
Competitive teams compete at an elite level in league play and tournaments. With hundreds of teams amongst many divisions, the Virginia Soccer League offers the opportunity to place teams individually based on the competitiveness of the each team in order to promote a game schedule that will offer challenge and success which ultimately promotes growth. Each year, the Technical Director's meet to establish divisions for all clubs based on geographical location, previous records, and ability level of individual teams. This league is referred to as "local travel" as 90% of games are within 30 minutes of each club's home facility. Virginia Soccer League games are played on Sundays with kick off times usually ranging from 11:00am to 4:00pm.
About VSLi:
VSL promotes and develops playing opportunities for soccer teams and clubs to play travel league soccer. The League is a member of Virginia Youth Soccer Association (VYSA). This membership is to maintain an appropriate relationship through the state youth association to the United States Youth Soccer Association, Inc., (USYS) and the United States Soccer Federations, Inc. (USSF).
The activities of the League include:
A. Operation of traveling leagues for its members;
B. Sponsoring tournaments for members and invited travel teams; and
C. Sponsoring other activities associated with youth and development of youth soccer.
The territorial jurisdiction of the League is divided into 4 regions: the North Region, the West Region, the Central Region, and the South East Region. Each region has the same territory as provided under the bylaws of the Virginia Youth Soccer Association, Inc. (VYSA).
Contacting VSLi:
The VSL has established a communication structure for the league.
Parents are to address questions to their coach, manager, or club representative. Coaches and Managers are to address questions to their club representative. Teams are to contact their Club Rep with all questions.
The Virginia Soccer League website can be reached at:
(Team schedules and standings as well as field information and rules can be reached through the VSL website)
Weather Hotline 757-886-5092
Call the VSL Weather Hotline for game day information such as cancellations and/or reschedules.
Contact Us: 757.271.8619 / email@example.com
CUSC Fields & Hotline
Address: Centerville Complex, 1857 Centerville Tpke S, Chesapeake, VA 23322-1954, US
Call the Club's Hotline for specific field's status for game day
information such as cancellations and/or reschedules.
The Virginia Soccer League website can be reached at:
(Team schedules and standings as well as field information and rules can be reached through the VSL website)
Weather Hotline 757-886-5092
Call the VSL Weather Hotline for game day information such as cancellations and/or reschedules.
Refund Policy
Each selected player will have two days after being notified by the coach to either accept or
deny their selection to the team and will pay the $200.00 required deposit. This deposit is non-refundable.
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Read the Bible, discover plans, and seek God every day.
Called Outside Your Comfort Zone
Watermark Gospel | David & Goliath
Playing Through the Pain: Growing in Darkness
COMIC BIBLE - Fearless
What's In Your Hands? God's Unexpected Answer
UNCOMMEN: A to B, What's Your Path
The Man in Between: A 5-Day Plan on David and Goliath
Coffee Cup Confessions: Finding Hope Not Hype in Famous Bible Verses
Casting Crowns - The Very Next Thing
Crowned With David: 7 Days Of Success
Discovering The Names Of God
The Seven Money Types
Quiet Waters
The Book of Samuel
Take Courage
The Basic Training Challenge – How It All Started
Refined Under Pressure
Stay in the Story
Courageous Kids
1 Samuel - The Coming King
Bible Stories: Old Testament Season 2
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Education & Resources
One in eight women in the U.S. will develop breast cancer in her lifetime. Breast cancer is the most common cancer among women. It is the second leading cause of cancer death among women after lung cancer, and is the leading cause of death among young women.*
Yet millions of breast cancer survivors stand as proof to the progress being made. While in the past a breast cancer diagnosis meant certain death, today early diagnosis and treatment can mean extended life. It is this mission — early diagnosis and treatment — that is the heart of Oklahoma Project Woman. Our program is a collaborative effort linking Oklahoma breast healthcare institutions to women who, because of financial hardship, often delay seeking medical attention.
Recommended Screening Guidelines
Susan G. Komen for the Cure® recommends the following screening guidelines:
- Mammograms every year starting at age 40.
- Women under 40 with a family history of breast cancer or other concerns talk with a health care provider. Screening tests may be needed more often and/or started earlier.
- Clinical breast exams by a health care provider at least every 3 years starting at age 20, and every year after 40.
- Breast self-exams every month starting by age 20.
American Cancer Society® recommends:
- Yearly mammograms starting at age 40 and continuing for as long as a woman is in good health.
- Clinical breast exam (CBE) as part of periodic health exams, about every 3 years for women in their 20s and 30s and every year for women 40 and over.
- Women know how their breasts normally feel and report any breast change promptly to their health care providers. Breast self-exam (BSE) is an option for women starting in their 20s.
- Women at high risk (greater than 20% lifetime risk) get an MRI and a mammogram every year.
- Women at moderately increased risk (15% to 20% lifetime risk) talk with their doctors about the benefits and limitations of adding MRI screening to their yearly mammogram; yearly MRI screening is not recommended for women whose lifetime risk of breast cancer is less than 15%.
*Facing the Facts about Breast Cancer (Presented by Susan G. Komen for the Cure, 2007)


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I met him on the night
I followed the trail of the fallen star.
I saw him from a distance,
Looking at the sky that shone a little less brightly.
As he was tracing the path of the disgraced celestial,
Our eyes met.
The connection was instant and intense.
We spoke of what could have happened
To our beloved ball of luminescence
And I was swept away by his brilliance.
But by dawn, we had both acceded to the loss.
He held my hand briefly,
And just as quickly,
He faded into the shadows of a new day,
As lost to me as my fallen star.


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Absolute Software Announces Deal With Queensland
Absolute®Software Corporation has announced that the company has completed a Computrace® software license sale covering more than 60,000 student laptops with the Queensland Government's Department of Education and Training (DET) in Australia.
This transaction expands Absolute's existing relationship with Queensland DET and will be completed in calendar Q4. Under terms of the agreement, Absolute will sell its Computrace Data Protection product, with the sale amortized to revenue over a period of three to four years. Armed with Computrace, the Queensland DET has embraced best practices for data and device protection, and has taken steps to respond to and remediate loss and theft of their valuable student computing assets.
"By having access to laptops, our students are better equipped to access important online resources, resulting in improved collaboration and greater opportunity for personalised learning," stated DET's Information and Technologies Assistant Director-General David O'Hagan. "Absolute's Computrace technology provides schools and students with the security of knowing their machine can be tracked and traced should it ever be lost or stolen."
"We are pleased to strengthen our existing relationship with the Queensland DET by providing them with solutions to securely manage their laptops," said John Livingston, CEO of Absolute Software. "We believe our products are a must-have for any organization to maximize the value from their computing assets and to effectively and efficiently embrace mobility. Our expanded partnership with the Queensland DET validates our investment in the Asia-Pacific region and is a good indicator of the international market opportunity for Absolute Software."


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LET'S place the following truth-telling, non-PC cards on the table: there is a tendency to idealize and glorify those who pass on – deservedly so, or not. All of a sudden, the biggest bastard becomes holier than thou, thus, transmorphing into the nicest, kindest, and most loving person to walk the face of earth. Voilà, "it be" true.
EVEN more so, when one is a powerful politician, public personality, or Hollyweird type – have mercy – the hagiographies know no bounds. Unbounded. Unrestrained. Unchained.
BUT to add some visual perspective to the non-flattering, feet on the ground truths, imagine, if you dare, what paeans will be penned when the "Bonnie and Clyde" of America's political hierarchy pass on, Hill & Bill – be it separately, or together?
READERS, you get the (sordid and lying) picture.
IN this respect, let's jump back to McCain and his Muslim Brotherhood Mafia treachery, thus, demanding an answer: why are halos being placed around his (anti-American) memory?
STILL yet, before we get to the truth-telling via Egypt's media (did you ever dream…even in your worst nightmares….that they would be more forthcoming than America's lying, fascist-left media), it is intrinsic to recall the revelations within (from 2012 until his death) re McCain (and "deep state" crew) here, here, here, here, and on and on.
Egyptian media: John McCain is real Supreme Guide of the Muslim Brotherhood
Egyptian media has accused the late US senator and presidential nominee John McCain of being the 'Godfather', 'leader', and 'real Supreme Guide' of the Muslim Brotherhood organisation.
In remarks, he made during a talk show aired on Sada El-Balad TV, the Egyptian media personality and TV host Ahmed Moussa claimed that McCain, recognised in the US as a national war hero and longtime senator, was, in fact, the 'real Supreme Guide' of the Muslim Brotherhood.
"John McCain is the real Supreme Guide of the terrorist Muslim Brotherhood, not Badee and not Akef," Moussa said.
"Today was John McCain's funeral, which the leaders of the criminal Brotherhood in America have taken part in," he continued, " and they performed the Absentee funeral prayer for John McCain in Qatar, Turkey, USA, and Britain. "
"[McCain] was the main supporter for the terrorist Brotherhood," he added. "Senator McCain was the one who opened up the Congress to the Brotherhood. He was the one arranging the meetings and appointments and providing them with protection."
The American politician and Vietnam veteran died on 25 August, aged 81, from the effects of brain cancer and was buried at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland after a small private ceremony.
US President Donald Trump ordered the White House flag to be re-lowered in recognition of McCain's record and service to the country, following outrage at the raising of the flag for only two days of national mourning.
Moussa said that McCain was "a stronger ally" to the Muslim Brotherhood than Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Emir of Qatar Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani.
Tamim is just for the money, they have no problem getting rid of him in the morning if they found another financial backer. Erdogan just to strengthen them, nothing much, but John McCain was the one raising them above. He had opened doors for them.
EVEN more so, it is inordinately revealing: while Egypt upholds the death sentences of Muslim Brotherhood Mafia leaders, "deep state" actors in Washington's bowels have yet to declare it a terrorist organization, thus, signing into law Congressional Bill S.68! How can this be?
MOST significantly, it is no longer up for debate: the "deep state" works 24/7 to thwart any and all who operate in the pro-America sphere. Indeed, this has been ongoing for years, most hyper-actively during HUSSEIN Obama's two-term reign of dismantlement (a/k/a "transformation") of U.S. exceptionalism.
On September 18, 2014, on the Ground Zero radio program, a whistle blower named Greg Ford of the 223rd Military Intelligence Battalion claimed that Brennan, as chief of the CIA station in Jeda [sic], overrode concerns and ordered that the visas of the 19 plane-hijackers be stamped. At 1:32:47 into the interview, Ford talked about ISIS and how it was created. Someone called in with a question about 9/11. Ford said:
"All 19 high jackers? Where did they get their visas stamped before they came to this country to launch 9/11? They got their visas stamped in the CIA station in Jeda [sic]. And the second in command said 'No way, absolutely we are not going to stamp those visas.' And the fellow who was in charge, his name was John Brennan. He was the person who overrode those concerns and cautions and ordered those visas stamped in Jeda [sic]"….continue to the explosive, "deep state" revelations at this interview; the portion of interest begins at the 1:32:47 mark.
{Patriots, pay special heed to Brennan's "side comment" at the 2:24 marker…his anti-American, anti-western intent couldn't be any clearer, yet, he was the Director of the CIA, and, beforehand, a CIA Station Chief! Again, how can this be? Moreover, he is hardly a lone actor in said "deep state" treachery!!}
IN real terms, while some stage-manage behind the (political) scenes (read: Soros's tentacled front groups, and others similarly predisposed), mendaciously, a burgeoning amount of political power brokers thump their chests, all the while feigning so-called patriotism, even as they slit the nation's throat.
EFFECTIVELY, since the traitors within represent the highest levels – up and down the chain of command – the damage they wreck through their anti-American associations and heavy-lifting couldn't be more acute. Dire.
IPSO facto, time and again, irrefutable evidence has proven that John McCain was in support of (in collusion with) the Muslim Brotherhood Mafia – both in the U.S. and throughout the Middle East, most perniciously, in the heart of the Arab world.
TO wit, there is only one conclusion to be drawn: since the Brotherhood Mafia's N. American tentacled, hydra-based front groups have already been designated "unindicted" co-conspirators in the (2008-2009) "largest terrorism financing prosecution in American history"; whereas leaders of Hamas stand in the forefront of said indictment, there is nary spitting distance between McCain (and his anti-American crew, with HUSSEIN Obama, Hill & Bill, and surrogates in lock-step) and those whose goal has never wavered, that is, "their work in America is a kind of grand Jihad in eliminating and destroying the Western civilization from within and 'sabotaging' its miserable house by their hands … so that … God's religion [Islam] is made victorious over all other religions." Mind you, Hamas is an offshoot of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. It was co-founded by Islamic terrorists, Sheikh Ahmed Yassin and Abdel Aziz al-Rantisi – both of whom, blessedly, were dispatched to pagan Allah's hell-hole by Israel's righteous "hit squads." Way to go, boychiks….a blessing on your (courageous) heads!
INEXTRICABLY, The Muslim Brotherhood's "General Strategic Goal " for North America is crystal clear. So, when one lends American hyper-muscle to the largest Islamic global terror entity – effectively, as it targets the nation's destruction – should said perpetrator be granted "heroic" send-offs by countless in officialdom (never mind the captured media, the "fourth estate"), or should they have been led away in handcuffs, while still among the living for justice to be served?
OH, to save some the trouble (just in case they are inclined to tsk, tsk in this direction….don't bother, like water off a duck's back) from opining, "but McCain was a war hero", well, not so fast! His authentic "war hero" record must be set straight – PC hogwash aside.
Eighteen months ago, TAC publisher Ron Unz discovered an astonishing account of the role the 2008 Republican presidential nominee, John McCain, had played in suppressing information about what happened to American soldiers missing in action in Vietnam. Below, we present in full Sydney Schanberg's explosive story. Read its full-on basis here.
INCONTESTABLY, John McCain was not only a lying opportunist, but he colluded with America's enemies throughout Islamdom. Hence, by glorifying him in death, the cycle of historical deception continues apace. In turn, this lends aid to the enemy, in so far that revising one's (treacherous) political record has real-world consequences. Knock-on effects. In point of fact, is such revisionism good for the national interest, or not? By extrapolation, should such a spectacle be repeated, each and every time, after another of his ilk expires? You decide.
BTW, this acknowledged Muslim Brotherhood expert places considerable heft behind each and every trail within, to the degree that this site's most important sources (Israeli/Middle Eastern "boots on the ground", some of whom jump back and forth between both nations), in one way or another, are in the operational fray.
- This message contains content that has been blocked by our security systems.
- If you think you're seeing this by mistake, please let us know. Yes, additional "proof-in-the pudding" as to why "BANNED: How Facebook Enables Militant Islamic Jihad" had to be written!}


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Copper Prices Hit New Lows Ahead of Chinese Manufacturing Data
The price of copper has been falling steadily for a week. From a high of 3.167 last Tuesday, the price reached a low of 3.033 on Monday before recovering slightly to trade around 3.045.
The price has been falling as anticipation grew over deterioration in Chinese manufacturing figures which are due to be released this week. China is the world's largest consumer of copper and accounts for around 40% of demand. If the country's manufacturing figures are down then it will seriously affect the price of copper.
In addition to the situation in China, a strong dollar also leads to a drop in the price of metals as it makes dollar based assets unattractive to investors that hold other currencies. Gold, silver and copper prices have suffered in recent weeks and the price is likely to be kept down as long as the dollar remains high.


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Over it's 6.8 miles Monument Canyon gains approximately 1500 feet in elevation, most of that elevation change is divided between the first mile from the upper trail head and the last two miles. Ample opportunity for amazing views and wildlife watching.
Use LocalRaces for simple, beautifully designed online event hosting and registration.


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2016 has been shit. On individual terms a number wonderful things have happened, but it's hard to look back with any fondness on a stretch where so much evil has been visited upon so many. A lot of illusions have been broken forever, a lot of hard truths have emerged about the kind of fight we're in for. We've been challenged to put our hearts, minds, bodies on the line for the kind of world we've told ourselves we believe in. It's going to be shit! Rule of thumb number one though; there are a lot of people who've been fighting these fights most of their lives, and if we haven't been listening to them before (we evidently haven't), there's no time like the present. I'm here, you're here, let's make things better, let's be better, one day at a time.
Right so I do poetry and things so here are some poetry books I liked this year.
Vahni Capildeo – Measures of Expatriation
If I did an end of year awards thing this would be my winner. It's extraordinary in the most basic sense, and it's hard to remember a book by a poet in these islands that so thoroughly questioned our understanding of what a book of lyric poetry looks like, or what it can do. It's a book I'll turn back to for years to come. For what it's worth, it's also hard to think of another book that managed to carry such heavy subject matter while transmitting so much humanity, warmth and wit, or made these things such a core aspect of its enterprise. Suffice to say I want you to read Measures of Expatriation and then talk to me about it.
Denise Riley – Say Something Back
The sustained intensity of this book's opening sequence, in elegy for Riley's son, is unlike anything I've ever read; the emotional situation the reader is permitted to share in is often brutal. Riley spares herself very little, and in criticising the elegiac impulse, or what might appear to be a very natural grieving process, creates poems that cut deeply. Like MoE, it's painful, it pulls no punches, it is generous beyond understanding. As above, read it and tell me about it.
Alice Oswald – Falling Awake
This is the first of Oswald's collections I've really sat down with, and more fool me for leaving it so long. Falling Awake is the best nature poetry I've read in years, capturing a heartfelt love of the living world without quite romanticising it, keeping a healthy realism about the effect of an observing consciousness on what's being observed. The book also has an attitude to time and mortality, the long distance and the big picture, that I find deeply heartening, if only for a moment or two. Falling Awake's near-complete non-engagement with contemporary poetic trends is also very calming, if only, again, for a moment or two.
Melissa Lee-Houghton – Sunshine
I first read Sunshine in one sitting, in Glasgow, on a rainy day trip where I had too much caffeine and felt basically inconsolable for days after. I'm not well-versed on confessional poetry (if that's the best way of thinking about Sunshine, and I'm not convinced it is), so I feel a bit underqualified to talk about it, not least in experiential terms. What's clear is that the concentrated urgency of the work is damn near unrivalled, there's zero fluff, cover to cover. I know several readers who find Lee-Houghton's work deeply empowering in its clear-eyed discussion of mental illness, the basic message that this is something that happens to humans, that it can be survived. I'd just as readily give fair warning that it's emotionally taxing; while it absolutely needs to be read, it needs to be approached with respect. Hope to write something a bit more substantial in the near future, but for now this is an exceptional book, one that'll be on my mind for a long time.
Kate Tempest – Let Them Eat Chaos
If poetry!facebook is anything to go by, many people have pretty firm opinions about Tempest. I'd bet that Let Them Eat Chaos is unlikely to radically change those stances. It is, partly, an explicit condemnation of the country's dominant political narratives, but it's worth noting that the poem has seven speaking parts (eight if you include the narrator), and the outspoken doomsayer is only one of them. Even if we presume this particular character to be closest to our readerly understanding of Tempest Prime (there are strong textual arguments for it, after all), they remain a fictional construct as much as the rest of the cast, and are probably best read in that light. The fact I'm pre-empting criticism here, mind, is probably indicative of what I assume the general response is/will be. But aiming the most common critiques at the book (preaching to choir/simplistic ideology/general ubiquity) would miss the trees for the wood. Let Them Eat Chaos is occasionally stunning, not least for the realisation that no other poet published by one of the big houses is saying these things so plainly. There are vital questions to be asked of poetry's political efficacy, now more than ever, but suffice, for now, to say my year of reading would be much poorer without this book.
Some Other Rad Books That Would Reward The Time You Spent With Them, With Briefer Notes Than Those Above, In The Order I Found Them On My Desk
Chloe Stopa-Hunt – White Hills
The pamphlet from clinic is weirdly beautiful, with its old-timey wallpaper design, and the lack of page numbers leaving the words on the page as the only focus. The poems are tiny, airy curiosities with disconcerting undercurrents. One of the purest lyric works I've read in ages, one that keeps unfolding and unfolding each time I pick it up.
Padraig Regan – Delicious
Speaking of lyric, Regan's pamphlet from new press Lifeboat is a real cracker. The poems are warm, tactile, sharp-witted, with a handful of real masterpieces. It's a book to get you through winter, a hopeful and beautifully crafted collection.
Choman Hardi – Considering the Women
Hardi's book was rightly recognised by the Forward Prizes, a collection that is on occasion difficult to read. Her long sequence, 'Anfal', marking women survivors of genocide in Kurdistan, is a massively important contribution to poetry in these islands, and deserves attention.
Ocean Vuong – Night Sky With Exit Wounds
An urgent and beautiful book. Vuong is almost impossibly candid, and his poems ask to be read with the openness and vulnerability by which they are given. One to save for a time you can run the risk of getting a bit weepy.
Modern Poets One – If I'm Scared We Can't Win
Sometimes a book comes along that reminds you how much you still have to learn. The generous selection of Anne Carson's was weird and unsettling; Berry and Collins both have collections out in the coming year, and this book is a brilliant taster. On a side note, the series almost unfairly exploits my completionist tendencies.
If A Leaf Falls Press – Sam Riviere
Pick one and treat yourself, they're beautiful objects, the poets are amazing, I'm delighted they exist. This year's highlights Kathryn Maris' 2008 and AK Blakemore's pro ana. (NB I lost track of this for a while and missed a few.)
Tiphanie Yanique – Wife
A powerful collection and deserved prizewinner. Yanique's poems are like sitting down with someone who knows exactly what she's talking about and is keen to enlighten you. Wife is angry, brilliant and completely uncompromising.
Luke Kennard – Cain
Cain asks some rudimentary questions about how readers construct the poet of their imagination, pressing back against the reader's presumption of intimacy. I found the anagram section technically dazzling but kinda tough going, though flashbacks to Infinite Jest might be colouring my opinion. A rare blend of emotional intelligence and formal critique.
The BreakBeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hop – eds. Kevin Coval, Quraysh Ali Lansana, and Nate Marshall
This anthology covers decades of a nation-wide poetry scene (if somewhat focused on the editors' home of Chicago) and provides the necessary context and criticism for outsider readers. It's been a long time since I read an anthology with such a density of exciting, challenging, and various work.
Currently and Emotion: Translations – ed. Sophie Collins
I'm still only partway through this, so can really only give honourable mention to a beautifully laid out and thus far fascinating anthology which, like BreakBeat, gives a generous welcome to the uninitiated.
Hope this has been enlightening! There's been a hell of a lot of great poetry published this year, so if I've missed something obvious I apologise. I also apologise for being less productive than I'd like this year; there's been times when other work commitments have made writing here difficult, times when writing anything felt simultaneously superfluous and nowhere near enough. I intend to be on here far more often in 2017.
I hope you're well, I hope you have good people around you. Thanks for reading.


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In past reviews, I've discussed how Hoth is my favorite Star Wars locale. Perhaps it's because it
reminds me of Michigan in February. Perhaps it was the uber cool Snowtrooper outfits. But odds are, it's
because I've always been a fan of all things Bigfoot/Abominable Snowman, and the Wampa tripped my
You can't have a Wampa without a Hoth Luke and Han. And you can't have a Hoth Luke and Han without a
Tauntaun. Thankfully, Sideshow has stepped up and produced all three, and tonight I'm checking out the
most recent to hit my doorstep, the Hoth Luke. Han should be here any day, and I'll be covering him next
week as well, and of course, I already reviewed the Tauntaun.
And before I get a hundred emails about the photo above, yes, I know the broken horn should be on Luke's
ride, but I've already put those parts away, assuming I'd be using the beast of burden with Han, not
Luke. Sometimes you have to make due...
Sideshow produced both a regular, and an exclusive
version, both selling (and shipping) right now for $200. While the exclusive only has one additional
accessory, it's a very cool accessory this time around, so I highly recommend picking up this version
while you can. And don't forget to check out the exclusive Hoth
Han Solo as well!
Now that we have these guys, where's my Wampa? C'mon, Sideshow...or Hot Toys...give us some Wampa love!
Click on the image below for a Life Size version
Packaging - ***1/2
Sideshow's early Star Wars packaging was a breakthrough in the industry, and set the tone for companies
that followed. Here we see the standard style, with two large trays inside for the figure and
accessories. There's a wrap around cover, held in place with magnets, and everything is collector
Sculpting - ***
There are three head sculpts included with the exclusive - THREE! It's hard to argue with that.
Unfortunately, one of them isn't all that and a bag of chips. But let's start with the standard head,
which is everything I'd hoped it would be. This Luke comes wearing the helmet, complete with sculpted
radio, cloth scarf, and goggles. It's very realistic - Sideshow has really stepped up their game with
the skin texture and detailing. It's also very life-like, with a reasonable expression that avoids the
dreaded mannequin effect. And...ta-da!...it's also very
accurate, much more so than some past Luke attempts. The detailing not only on the face but the
head cover is great, and I'm much more pleased with this head sculpt than I have been with most recent
Sideshow attempts.
You can put the goggles over his eyes and wrap the scarf around his face, if you'd like. The goggles
are a little stretched out though, so the fit isn't super tight, and you'll have to untie the scarf in
the back of the helmet to get it to fit around front. The goggles are NOT removable.
Sadly, the second standard head isn't quite all that. I'm fairly certain that it's the exact same
likeness, with just a different head topping. The detail work on the strands of the hair is excellent,
and it has the same realistic skin texture. It has two things going against it, however. First, without
the helmet on but wearing the bulky Hoth costume, the head looks too small. I don't think it actually is
(again, I'm pretty sure it's the same portrait), but this is instead a result of the extra mass from the
multiple layers of cold weather gear. The second issue is the hair, or rather how the hair is attached
to the head. There's simply too much of a gap all the way around the hairline, making it stick out like
some weird hat.
The third head sculpt comes only with the exclusive, and represents his look after my buddy the Wampa
was finished with him. The scarring looks great, as does the damage to the helmet. The scarf is more
unkempt as well, and the goggles are missing. Since I have my fingers crossed that we will eventually
get a Wampa, this head sculpt is more important to me in the long run than either of the regular release
versions. Unlike Han, who I plan on parking on the back of the Tauntaun in the display, there's
really only one way to display a Hoth Luke, and that's with a Wampa. Even if we never get Sasquatch's
cousin, having Han rescuing Luke is still a more ideal set up, and the inclusion of this head makes
those display options possible.
If I were grading this figure solely on the head sculpts in this category, I would have gone another
half star. I like the two helmeted versions that much. But there was one other issue that bugged me
related to the hands, and pulled the score down a half star. The gripping left and right hands, designed
to work with the light saber hilt, really don't. The grip isn't tight enough on either, and the saber
tends to hang loose. If my $20 Black figure can hold his saber properly, I certainly expect a $200
version to manage it.
Paint - ***1/2
The key to bringing out real life in any portrait sculpture is the paint, and it's one area where
Sideshow has struggled over the years. A recent criticism is that their prices have reached Hot Toys
levels (almost) with the release of the Hoth Han and Luke, but collectors were concerned that the
quality wouldn't warrant the increases.
I'm happy to say that the paint work here is excellent. The skin tone, eyes, lips, eyebrows - all are
extremely clean and life-like, adding a ton of realism to the portrait. Sideshow has been making steps
forward in this regard with a number of their recent releases, but this one is a clear improvement.
While I'm not quite ready to say they've reached the spooky level of quality of Hot Toys, they are still
in the $200 and under ball park with companies like Threezero, Star Ace, ACI and Asmus, and the work
here is certainly on par with the rest of that market.
The injured portrait sports some very nice blood and reddish wounds, given just the right color and
finish. Blood and damaged flesh is very tricky, even for the best companies, but Sideshow has managed to
keep the realistic appearance, particularly in hand.
One of my biggest complaints with their recent Snake
Plissken was the paint work on the accessories, which seemed to be a step backward, rather than
forward. With this figure, we see a return to the high quality paint work on the weapons and extras that
we expect from Sideshow.
Articulation - ***1/2
The underlying Prometheus body is at it's best with this release. All the joints are tight, he holds
poses extremely well, and there's plenty of articulation for you to work with, head to toe.
The ball jointed neck works particularly well, but the upper body torso stands out as well. You can get
- and keep - twisting poses in the chest and waist, even with the heavy clothing.
The ankles are a bit restricted by the boots, even though the are made from a fairly soft material, and
the heavy coat can effect the shoulders a smidge. The underlying body isn't quite as nice as the
TrueType when it comes to taking natural, flowing stances, but it's still a very solid contender in the
current market, and has left its early floppy joint issues behind.
Accessories - ***1/2
Regular readers know that with three, count 'em THREE head sculpts, this figure was going to score well
in this category. I love extra head sculpts...
The heads swap easily, and as I mentioned in the Sculpt and Paint categories, all three have their
value. Even though the helmet-less head wasn't my favorite, I think it would make a good
replacement for some of the earlier Luke figures produced or your own custom kitbash.
There's a reasonable assortment of hands, four sets in all. I mentioned that the light saber
grips don't work particularly well, and there's no gun grip for the left, but the scale is good, and
every hand comes with it's own wrist peg. They swap easily as well.
I suppose you can count the two itty bitty antennae as 'accessories', although you won't really want to
display him without them. Take some care when inserting them into the tiny holes on the helmet.
There's also his light saber, of course. There's both and lit and unlit version. One fits on the hook
on the front of his belt, while the other has a rather icey appearing blade. It has a rough texture and
flecked color that I've never seen before, and I'm assuming that was intentional. The sculpting on both
hilts is excellent, with lots of great small detail.
He will have to scan the frosty horizon, and he has a pair of cold weather binoculars for that purpose.
There's a set of hands perfect for holding these either one-handed or two-handed, and the detailing,
weathering and scale is terrific. There's a leather strap for him wear them over his shoulder as well.
Last but not least, he has his display stand. It has a crotch rest, and the base comes in three pieces:
a big hunk of snow, a little hunk of snow, and a hexagonal black section that the two snow pieces
rest on. It looks good, and can be used without the crotch post for those just looking for a simple
Outfit - ***1/2
Another area that was disappointing on the recent Plissken was the outfit. It was well below the
expected quality from Sideshow at this price. But, like the Accessories, the Outfit on the Hoth Luke is
back up to snuff.
There's a couple layers here, starting with the thick shirt. Over this is the heavy vest, with various
sculpted pieces, like the wrist communicator. The heavy duty snaps holding it shut are much higher
quality than the plastic versions we often see with Hot Toys, making it a little easier to undress him
if you feel the need.
The pants are well tailored, and the soft boots sport an excellent sculpt and paint job. Over all this
goes his belt with holster and various pouches. These pouches can be adjusted to your preferred
positions. The holster is my one area of contention with the outfit. While you can fit the blaster
inside, getting the magnet to attach and hold down the strap is a trick. The gun simply doesn't fit low
enough in the holster to make it possible in the proper way.
Fun Factor - ***1/2
This is a sturdy figure, with three nice head sculpts and a good assortment of appropriate extras.
Posing is easy and fun, and when you add in a Tauntaun, you can't go wrong.
Value - **1/2
Most Hot Toys figures are now at least $225, some much higher than that. Getting anything at $200 or
less is becoming more and more difficult. However, this is a great example of the quality that can be
managed at the lower price point, and Sideshow has stepped up their game to match their own price
Things to Watch Out For -
There are two very small antennae included, which I discussed in the Accessories section. Be very
careful when opening the trays, since they are not taped in place and could easily bounce out of the
package, onto the floor, and into oblivion. You'll want to be doubly careful inserting them into the
small hole on the side of the helmet, but with a little care it works smoothly.
Overall - ***1/2
I'm betting a lot of Sideshow haters won't even give this figure - or the Hoth Han - a fair chance, but
if you do, you'll be pleasantly surprised. They have been promising to up their game for some time now,
and with this release I can honestly say that it looks like they are making good on that promise.
The helmet-less head sculpt isn't one I'll use with this figure, but it does have value with other,
older releases as an upgrade, or as potential with a kitbash. The other two head sculpts are terrific,
and if you can get the exclusive, go for it. Having the Wampa damaged version will go a long way in your
The outfit and accessories are solid work, the Prometheus body has improved, and the price point, while
high, still hasn't caught up to the crazy Hot Toys level yet. Whether this upward trend in quality will
last remains to be seen (and the Hoth Han will help determine that), but this Luke is well worth it.
Score Recap (out of ****):
Packaging - ***1/2
Sculpting - ***
Paint - ***1/2
Articulation - ***1/2
Accessories - ***1/2
Outfit - ***1/2
Fun Factor - ***1/2
Value - **1/2
Overall - ***1/2
Where to Buy
Online options include these site sponsors:
- Sideshow
has him (and Hoth
Han) for $200, and you can get the exclusive with the additional "Wampa damaged" head sculpt for
that price - that's the way to go!
- or you can search ebay for a deal.
Related Links -
I just reviewed the excellent Tauntaun you see in a
couple of the photos, and highly recommend pairing him with either the Hoth Luke or the Hoth Han. Other
Hoth related figures include the Snowtrooper,
the Heavy Repeating Blaster, and the Probe
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This product was provided for the review by the manufacturer. Photos and text by Michael Crawford.
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