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happy mother's day. a couple more for our military heros. >> hello, i'm giving a shoutout to myson mikey. >> i'm staph sergeant young, in afghanistan. i would like to say happy mother's day to my mommy in birmingham, alabama. >> i'm sergeant ray lewis, i would like to give a shoutout to my mother, sheryl, in ocean side, california. happy mother's day and i'll see you soon! the top of the hour, new information this hour about a shooting in new orleans to tell you about. police now say 17 people were wounded earlier today when shots rang out during a mother's day parade. but their injuries are not life threatening.
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the youngest victim is 9 or 10 years old. grazed by a bullet on her side. they're looking for suspects. >> it appears these two or three people for a reason unknown to us started shoots at, towards, or in the crowd. it was over in a couple seconds. police were everywhere, and we hope they anybody that saw anything will give crime stoppers a call to help us get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. we want to get right to cleveland now where prosecutors say they will charge ariel castro for kidnapping and raining three women and holding them captive for years. today we're hearing how his family is reacting from his brother's themselves. police cleared them of any wrong
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doing, but they're afraid people might not know that. all three women now released are doing fine. even michelle knight who was held captive the longest. she says she will reach out to loved ones in good time. look at this video, it was shot last monday by somebody in that cleveland neighborhood. these are cleveland police officers converging on the castro home, forcing the door open, and setting them free. a woman passing by stopped and shot this with her cell phone. martin savage, you talked face to fake with ariel castro's two brothers, they're not accused of anything, but they're concerned and in hiding. why is that?
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>> yes, they were arrested welcome of course, at the same time as their brother. they have been cleared, and the investigation shows they had nothing to do with the abduction of the women. but their pictures were out there and their names, and all three of them have been cast as a monster. they're not a monster, and they say the only one who is is their brother ariel. they want to clear their names and tell the families of those three women they did not know anything. listen to the conversation. >> do you worry now that people will always expect that you did have a role? >> absolutely. >> yes. >> and the people out there that
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know me know that i am not that person. i have nothing to do with that. would never ever think of something like that. i was very liked. i never have had any enemies. no reason for anyone to think that i would ever do something like that. >> i'm the same, i could never think of doing anything like that. if i knew my brother was doing this, in a minute i could call the cops, because that ain't right. but yeah, it's going to haunt me. people are going to think padro has something to do with this, but i don't. if i did, i would have reported it, brother or not brother.
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>> they continue to receive death threats now. they have not been able to go home. they have had windows broken. they still feel many think of them as suspects as well. >> how would you characterize the brother's state of mind. are they angry, embarrassed, nervous about all of the attention. >> they're definitely not angry. that's nothing in their emotions. they're frightened because of what i just mentioned, the death threats there. and they apologize for their brother who they refer to as a monster and a person they say is dead to them. someone they no longer consider part of their family. what you can sense most of all is the tension in them. there is a feeling they just want to let people know they
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were not involved and of course the of course question is how you could be his brother, be so close, and not know anything? >> be sure to see martin's full exclusive interview that is tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. eastern time. tune in i've or set your dvr. we want to go now to indiana where investigators are investigating a quadruple homicide. it's halfway between indianapolis and louisville kentucky. all four were shot to death. they have nobody in custody. in new jersey, three hostages are free after police ended a 37 hour standoff. they found the bodies of a woman and a 12-year-old son that were
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killed about two weeks ago. three more of the women's children were held hostage by an armed gunman. police shot and killed the gunman. they say the man was the woman's boyfriend, but not the father of any of the children involved. >> a rule california community is in shock today after an arrest of 8-year-old leyla fowler. they arrested the girl's 12-year-old brother on homicide charges. they were home alone last month when she was found stabbed to death. the small down was under the impression a killer was on the loose, now it's not. what do they make of this? >> it's a story we know all too well. a small town reeling after a mysterious murder. this one takes a crazy turn where the 12-year-old brother is accused of fatally stabbing his
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8-year-old sister. this community thought a killer was on the loose. they thought more victims would be forth coming, this is how the sheriff announced the charges last night. >> at 5:10 p.m., detectives arrested leyla's 12-year-old brother on charges of homicide. >> well the brother originally told authorities he was home alone with his sister. there was an intruder in the house, he saw the intruder running away, he was a six foot tall man, gray hair, everyone was on the lookout for this killer, and the 12-year-old was arrested. it was a huge surprise to everybody. the 12-year-old was visibly seen with his family. he was out at vigils and seems very distraught. and we talked to folks in the community, they didn't see this one coming.
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take a look. >> i didn't want to believe it, you kind of thought so, but it's not something that i wanted to believe. >> he always went and talked to his sister and gave her a hug. >> so now the question becomes motive, why would a 12-year-old suddenly stab his sister to death. that we don't know, was there a confession as well? was there dna evidence? what made the the investigators suspicious. >> thank you, a survival of the boston marathon bombings just discharged from the hospital after losing a leg. more... step! [ mom ] my little girl...she loves to help out on big jobs. good thing there's bounty select-a-size. it's the smaller powerful sheet that acts like a big sheet. look! one select-a-size sheet of bounty
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>> the last time heather saw a game at fenway was the day of the boston bombings. she left the game to watch the end of the marathon, and when the bombs exploded, she lost a leg. here is paula newton. >> even in cambridge, the days are mercifully quiet again. more and more talk of terror gives way to what you would expect here. how are those bruins and red sox
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doing? >> the red sox at fenway park, what could be better? for many victims and their families, going to sporting events like this have been part of their rehabilitation and their recovery. >> with undenialble courage. heather abbot is back at fenway park. it was a red sox game on the day of the hair on this that brought her to boston after the game she was grabbing a bite to eat at the race finish line. then, there, the bombs went off. she lost her left foot. imagine the strength it takes to come back to fenway and throw out the first pitch. abbot is firm there's no use looking back, she says. >> the investigation does continue. the younger brother is still in the hospital.
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tamerlan's widow has hired a lawyer. investigators still want to question her. and then there is tamerlan tsarnaev who is still being investigated. >> that's the evidence that everybody is looking for. >> david is a veteran "boston globe" reporter that spent a decade in russia. he is trying to retrace tsarnaev's path to extremism. he says he clearly went looking for literature and videos about it. >> did he say i'm living in a place that is killing muslims and i need to kill americans? >> he says i'm going to kill them, and that is something that rational people have trouble with. >> that's what this think is starting to come to terms with. the investigation welcomes more
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complicated, and the simple question of why is almost impossible to answer. all new from cnn, boston. >> senator john mccain never shy about his feelings for the obama administration, is crying cover up. with so much competition,
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>> eight months after the benghazi attacks. some say the white house is still being dishonest. the white house is under new pressure after an e-mail chain showed how talking points were edits and watered down. >> i would call it a ovcover up. i would call it in the extent that there was willful removal of information that was obviously. it was obviously. >> the american people were
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effectively lied to for a month. this was a terrorist attack from the get go. they were covering up an easy attack that succeeded that was from the get go really about a terrorist attack. it was never about a video. >> senator mccain and congress mesne issa are calling for investigations. they say they were open about the fact once the facts were known. >> an agency has apologized for singling out groups with tea party or patriot in their name. daryle issa says the apology is not enough. >> in 2011 when the irs new, the question is who knew, when did they know, and why should they keep their jobs if they're part of knowing about a criminal activity that continued. we certainly know we need to get to the bottom of it and have the
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institutional changes occur so it doesn't happen again. >> they say that presidential is concerned about the situation and any misconduct must be dealt with swiftly. first lady michelle obama is grating the class of 2013. she gave the commencement address yesterday and encounselored graduates to get out and serve their community. >> graduates. you can't stop serving once you leave here. whether you wore our country's uniform or not, we're all called to serve and give back to those around us. and you don't have to travel across the globe or across the country to find ways to serve. wtvq says the university was chosen because of their programs for veterans to further their
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education. seth meyers is leaving "saturday night live," that's next. first, a film about overcoming the unimaginable. we begin our journey in war torn psi beer ya where a civil war left an entire generation uneducated. >> sarah is a natural story teller. but the young woman with a tinkerbell backpack doesn't write fairy tales. >> a girlments to go to the school, but her parents say that only the boys are supposed to go. >> it's a story of war torn syria. >> she can't read or write. i can read and write and that's
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a big difference between me and her. >> sarah went to live with her aunt who is a teacher so she could go to school. >> she is part of a project called girls making media. >> sarah is speaking up because she wants a different ending for herself and other girls. >> i report on the the discrimination against girls in syria. on the radio, i think people will do something if they hear about it. my dream is for me to become a super star of sierra leone. hmm, it says here that cheerios helps lower cholesterol as part of a heart healthy diet. that's true. ...but you still have to go to the gym. ♪ the one and only, cheerios
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another late night domino about to fall on nbc. seth meyers will replace jimmy fallon who will take jay leno's seat next year. >> the chair calls mrs. jodi arias. >> do you wear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? >> i think this witness has been called for boothing the ratings of these hearings. >> that is a very mean and hurtful thing for my college to suggest. >> when were you first made aware our consulate was under attack. >> i see. >> is it still going on? >> no.
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>> who do you think did it? >> we know who did it. >> if you know, why are you holding these hearings? >> mrs. arias, the way these hearings work is we ask the questions and you answer them. >> oh, i'm sorry. >> that's all right, anyone else have a question for this witness? >> okay, well, thank you for coming. >> iyou bet. >> that story you told about your boyfriend attacking you, that the bs, right? >> totally, he never laid a hand on me. >> i thought so, it sounded fishy to me. >> you and the jury. escape from captivity begins in two minutes here on cnn. we used to live with a bear.
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[growl] we'd always have to go everywhere with it. get in the front. we drive. it was so embarrasing that we just wanted to say, well, go away. shoo bear. but we can't really tell bears what to do. moooooommmmmm!!! then one day, it was just gone. mom! [announcer] you are how you sleep. tempur-pedic. man: how did i get here? dumb luck? or good decisions? ones i've made. ones we've all made.
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good evening, i'm john berman in new york. >> tonight, a cnn special report. escape from captivity, the cleveland kidnappings. i'm just a few yards away from where three women were held in unthinkable living conditions for so many years. neighbors here are still grappling with the horrors taking place behind those closed
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doors. >> tonight we're going in-depth. we have the most complete picture yet of how these women lives and survived for so many years. we're going to hear from the daughter of ariel castro, and from the families of the victims that held on to hope for so long and what it's like to have their loved ones back home. >> vanished for as long as a decade. millions have been watching the emerging details of their escape and rescue. and neighbors and family asking how. how did this go on for so long and unnoticed. it all began with one brave woman seeing an opportunity and making a run for freedom. >> help me, i'm amanda berry.
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>> i've been missing for ten years, and i'm free now. >> this is her first call in 10 years. >> for a decade, berry and two other women were trapped in this house until monday where she saw a rare chance for escape and she took it. >> a lot of people say tonight is a miracle. >> screaming through a crack in the door she has been locked behind, two neighbors help break down the door and bring her across the street. >> i think this bureau girl is trying to get out of the house. so we kick the bottom, and she comes out with a little girl, and she says call 911, my name
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is amanda berry. >> listen as they realize it's not just berry who has been locked away inside the house all of these years. >> gina dejesus and michelle knight. >> three missing women found after years. >> breaking news tonight, three women that went missing in separate cases more than a decade ago have been found together. ariel castro, a former school bus driver, is accused of kidnapping the women and holding them in what is called a house of horrors. his two brothers are also arrested in the case.
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the first photo of amanda berry is shown, and berry's young daughter born while she informs captivity. >> unsettling details emerge about castro. fired from his job as a bus driver after several infractions including leaving a child on a bus, and then a criminal complaint filed in 2005 alleges bual abuse, broken ribs, nose, lacerations, and threats to her life. the fbi searches his house uncovering nightmareish conditions, ropes and chains. the same day, gina dejesus, amanda berry, and michelle knight returned home to streets lined with cheers. amanda berry's family is finally
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able to welcome their daughter home. >> we're so happy to have amanda and her daughter home. we appreciate all you have done for us in the past few years. >> ariel castro is formally charged and his two brothers are cleared. >> no charges will be filed against these two individuals at this time. thursday, castro appears in court as he is arraigned on multiple koincounts of rain and kidnapping. dna experts are working to confirm that he is the father of amanda's baby, and it was confirmed on friday. difficult news. now all three women, gina, michelle, and amanda are home. savoring their first moments of treatment with loved ones.
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it's going to be a long road back for these three women and their families, john, we're going to hear from those families later in the show. >> thanks, first, the shocking details of just what happened during those years of captivity. cnn learned new information about their nightmare in this house of horrors. how did they live, how did they not escape before, and how did his family not know about his twisted seacrest. >> not just an address, not just a house, but a prison why ariel castro allegely committed acts of unthinkable horror. >> three young women, michelle knight, amanda berry, and gina
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dejesus held captive for years. >> place say they were tied up and beaten severely. police found chains and restraintis throughout the hous. ten years of brutality and confinement. they were seen outside on just two occasions. defined in the backward seen here in these photos exclusive to cnn where a small cross was placed in the ground. >> we're doing our best. >> two years latest police still don't know where amanda berry is. >> she still has not been found, this little girl. >> yes, a missing girl. a 14-year-old girl. >> in 2004, amanda berry's mother was desperate for answers and went on the mon tell williams show. >> so you don't think i'll ever seen her again. >> yeah, in heaven on the other side. >> in 2007, gina's parents found
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renewed hope when shawn hornbeck was found alive. >> you never give up that hope. never. because you never know. >> we could bring my child home, or amanda berry, or anyone that saw anything happen to that child. >> little did they know their daughters were miles away. now there was the vaguist hints. the bpadlocked door is seen her. listen to the daughter here -- >> skied if i could see my room, and he said there's so much junk up there, you don't want to go up there. >> not junk, but prisoners. castro would trick the women, pretending to leave, only to beat them if there was any sign they tried to escape. an initial report said knight
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became pregnant five times in captivity. each time, castro starved her for two weeks and punched her repeatedly in the stomach. there was one that was different. amanda berry was allowed to keep her child. she gave birth to castro's daughter in a plastic pool. it sounds diabolical. >> the ariel i knew, if you asked me last week, i would have told you he is the best dad and grandpa. all of these weird things i noticed over the years, how he kept his house so locked down, it's all adding up. and i'm disgusted and horrified. >> and the unnerving, gina dejesus was castro's daughter,
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arlene's best friend. >> i decided to call my mom and ask her, and she gave me 50 cents to call my mom, and my mom said no, i can't go to her house. so i told her i couldn't and she said well, okay, i'll talk to you later. and she just walked. >> earlier this week, she appeared on "good morning america" shocked and in disbelief. i would like to say that i'm absolutely so, so sorry. i really want to see you gina. and i want you to meet my kids. i'm so sorry for everything. >> what is it like to think your loved ones are gone forever only to get the greatest news of your life a decade later. our victim's families speak out when "escaped from captivity" continues. mission a for a final go.
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welcome back to our special report. i'm john berman in new york. >> imagine the pain of a loved one seeming to disappear into thin air. holding out home for their return, and prayers that go understand answered. and eventually the resignation
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they're gone. imagine all of that changes when your loved one miraculously returns. stories so dark, these images bring so much hope. sister's reuniting, a parent's tears of relief, a neighborhood welcoming home a lost sister. for three families, a feeling of indecemb indescribable joy. >> i can't wait to hug her. >> we missed her for ten years and i thought about her every day. oi knew she would come home. >> i never gave up hope. >> after a decade of searching, a feeling of vindication. >> i have one god, high and mighhigh and mighty, that gave me the strength for this day. >> even the ones that doubted, i still want to thank them the most. because they're the ones that
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made me stronger. the one that made me feel the most that my daughter was out there. >> hello? >> amanda. >> yeah, grandma. >> amanda's grand ma was overcome to hear that voice after ten years. >> i'm glad to have you back, i thought you were gone. >> no, i'm here. >> we're here for you. >> thank you so much. >> i spoke with her shortly after that phone call. >> what was going through your head? >> oh, my lord. she's alive, and i'm talking to her after all that time, and i never thought i would. but i didn't give up hope. and i'm glad she's okay.
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with what she's been through, she sounded good, and it was a miracle that we did get to talk. i know her life has been bad. >> there are a lot of people who did not give up hope, that looked for your daughter, and then there are the people who res dued her, is there anything you would like to say to them? >> i thank them from the bottom of my heart, and i'm glad amanda was strong enough to come to the door and come out after that long. she made her way through and got out. and we're all -- we just are beyond words. i mean it's just a miracle that she appeared and is back with us. it's just so great. and i thank the lord. >> all three women now returning to a new world and adjusting to a new normal. >> and reintroducing themselves to their loved oned and the
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world. i spoke with freddy knight after their reunion at the hospital. >> i was shocked when i found out, ya. my body was like shaking. realizing that my sister is found. i hugged her because she wanted a hug. >> did she change or look different? >> yeah, her hair was not long. she is doing good. >> and yet the family remembers a very different girl full of youth. >> we used to have dans contests and jump on the beds and act silly. michelle was always silly. >> berry, a child herself when she was kidnapped, returns home with a daughter herself. >> i talked about you all this time, i never forgot about you. >> her grandmother says she's
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ready to embrace change. >> the best thing that has ever happened in my life, the most important thing that's ever happened in my life, that she's back with us. i can't wait to see her with the baby. that baby is my grandchild, part of her and part of our life. amanda, you hang in there honey, you be strong. i am praying for you. and i love you. >> when we come back, he became a hero, a household name, an an internet sensation literally overnight. copd makes it hard to breathe...
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♪ welcome back to our special report, "escape from captivity." i'm john berman in new york. >> and i'm in cleveland. everything changed for charles ramsey the moment he heard the screams coming from his neighbor's house. what ramsey discovered there would free three women, blow open a decade-old kidnapping case and rocket him to internet stardom in one breath. our anderson cooper caught up with ramsey near the scene of the kidnapping. >> you moved in about a year ago. >> yeah. >> you had see ariel around. >> when i moved there, only because he was my neighbor you know what i mean? >> right. what was he like? >> cool. he wasn't no freak of nature. he was like me and you. >> reporter: so yesterday what happened? >> around 3:00, i was on my porch. and the mailman put his mail in my mail, so i looked at it and
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i'll give ariel's mail when he -- i said, ariel, here's your mail. had the same conversation. he said, they can't get it right. i said, no, damn postal service. that's it. he left. i'm in my house. man, this girl screamed like a car had hit a kid. when i got up, i saw my neighbor across the street, he run across the street. i'm thinking, where are you going? i heard the girl scream, saw him run across the street. i went outside and wondered what he was doing. and amanda is saying i'm stuck in here, help get me out. either he don't know english that well or panicked, and he looked at me, like, i'm a girl. she says i'm trapped in here. we79, c'mon, i'm trying to get the door open and can't. he didn't -- tower further chamber did away and locked it
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up. i did what i had to do, kicked the bottom, and she crawled out of it. she grabbed her baby, which threw me off. fine, i got some girl and a kid. >> reporter: what did she look like? what was she wearing? a jumpsuit. she had a white tank top on, rings on, mascara. she was well groomed. it didn't look like she was kidnapped. >> you had never seen her before? >> about intro, intro, man, listen, never. that woman didn't come out of the house. the only kids that came out of the house were two little girls. they played in the backyard. the neighborhood knows them as his grandchildren. >> reporter: amanda berry, then, what, asked to call 911. >> many hmm. i took her to my house. >> when you first saw her -- >> it didn't -- >> reporter: register? >> no!
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this is cleveland. since they haven't found that girl, we figured that girl met her demise. >> reporter: do you feel like a hero? >> reporter: a lot of people are saying you're a hero. >> no, i'm a christian, an american. i'm just like you. we bleed same blood, put our pants on the same way. it's just that you've got to december put that being a coward -- i don't want to get in nobody's business. you have to mutt that away for a minute. >> reporter: you know, a lot of people turn the other way and keep walking down the street. it's about ka how nails on this planet. there was a reward. >> give it to them. that little girl came out house and she was crying. and it was like your mama is trying to help me she said, i want my daddy. i said, who is your daddy? >> she said, ariel.
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i said, how is that possible? he was having sex with you? oh, jesus, that also girl is his? now we want to hurt you. >> reporter: you felt that. >> this will be a different interview, i told you that, if we had known that, man, i would be facing triple life. >> reporter: well, i'm glad it turned out this way. we should split the credit of the rescue with angel cordero, another neighbor who rushed to help after hearing amanda berry's screams. he also played a really key role freeing these three women. >> that's right, a couple heroes. coming up, what is next in the investigation and the future for the in youly freed kidnapping victims. at university of phoenix we kis where it can take you.cation (now arriving: city hospital)
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which is why we're proud to help connect our students with leading employers across the nation. (next stop: financial center) let's get to work.
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i'm on expert on softball. and tea parties. i'll have more awkward conversations than i'm equipped for, because i'm raising two girls on my own. i'll worry about the economy more than a few times before they're grown. but it's for them, so i've found a way. who matters most to you says the most about you. at massmutual we're owned by our policyowners, and they matter most to us. ready to plan for your future? we'll help you get there.
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welcome back to "escape from captivity, the cleveland kidnappings." this story has gripped the entire nation since charles ramsey had the presence of mind to listen to a woman he heard screaming from behind a door. for her and the other victims and their families, celebrations, a lot of catching up to do and a lot of healing, which we hope and pray they will find. for the authorities a complex investigation that continues. what was missed? what lessons can we learn from three women who lost a decade of their lives virtually in plain
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PACK IT IN PURPLE! Watch the Tri-City Storm take on their rival Lincoln Stars on Saturday, February 21, 2015 at 7:05 pm at the Viaero Event Center, then stay for the United Way jersey auction following the game!
United Way of the Kearney Area is once again partnering with local restaurants to help raise money towards our campaign goal. Dine Out to Help Out is a competition where teams of "celebrity" servers earn tips to benefit United Way. Last year, Dining Out events raised more than $9,800 over five nights.

subset: commoncrawl


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Anne Cassens
Based on a 2,000 calorie dietSee full nutrition
Ready In
Thank you for a delicious recipe, Anne. I used a bit less honey, about 1/3 cup, the green onions were very nice.
This recipe is fresh and heathy. I used less honey cause my family doesn't like real sweet. I changed the bacon to Morningstar meatless bacon to make it vegetarian. Excellent recipe. D.L.


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Gwere people
The Gwere people, or Bagwere, are a Bantu ethnic group in Uganda.
They live in the eastern Uganda, mostly in Budaka District, Pallisa District and Kibuku District, where they make up over 80% of the population. They have the Bagisu, the Basoga, the Balamogi and the Iteso, the Banyole and the Jopadhola (Badama) as their neighbors. The city of Mbale, one time reputed to be the cleanest city in Uganda is home to some Bagwere. Bagwere are also found in the following towns in Eastern Uganda: Pallisa, Budaka, Kibuku, Kagumu, Kamonkoli, Kadama, Kabweri, Iki-Iki, Bulangira, Kaderuna, Tirinyi, Butebo, Kakoro and kanginima,[kadama],[mugiti],[naboa].
The Bagwere are said to have emigrated to their present area from Bunyoro and Toro, and travelled along Lake Kyoga, crossing River Mpologoma. For this reason all the tribes that settled along the shores Kyoga like; Baluli, Bakenye, Balamogi have a similar language to Lugwere. Their initial area of settlement has shrunk considerably as the Iteso and the Bagisu have pushed the Bagwere's frontiers inwards.
The language of the Bagwere is Lugwere. It widely spoken in Pallisa,Budaka and Kibuku Districts. The language is very similar to Lulamogi and Lusoga.
Cultural structure[edit]
The Bagwere have many clans including the following:
- Bagema Clan
- Bakaduka clan
- Baloki Clan
- Balalaka Clan
- Baikomba Clan
- Bakomolo Clan
- Balangira Clan
- Baganza Clan
- Badaka Clan
- Baumo Clan
- Banaminto Clan
- Bapalama Clan
- Banyekero Clan
- Batoloyi Clan
- Bambirwe Clan
- Baseta clan
- Bakabweri clan
- Basikwe clan
- Bakamugewo clan
- Balocho clan
- Bakaligoko clan
- Bakatikoko Clan
- Babulanga Clan
- Banamwera Clan
- Bakaworya clan
All clans of Bagwere are headed by a clan leader or the chief and one of the clan leaders is elected to be the "IKUMBANIA" The chief cultural leader of the Bagwere people. Intermarriage among members of the same clan is prohibited, as is the custom in most Bantu cultures.[1]
Their traditional music is called Namadu,a set of seven drums as one of the famous traditional musical instruments. The Bagwere are also identified with Tongoli, a five-stringed handheld instrument, modeled along a twenty one-string instrument,elsewhere in Africa known as the Kora. However, with the modernisation of the music industry, there are young upcoming artists in Bugwere who are manoeuvring to break through to the top like AREA *B* , Juliewex (kidumbulu) and waikere , who have really tried to bring up the bagwere on the music scene.
The Bagwere are very proud of their heritage, especially as they are few in number but many are very well educated. Over fifty of them hold either PhD or Master's degrees from world-class reputable universities. Some notable Bagwere personalities over the years include:
- Professor George Kirya, Chairman, Uganda Health Services Commission, former Vice Chancellor Makerere University and former High Commissioner to UK
- William Mukama, the renowned teacher and politician
- Jennifer Namuyangu, former State Minister for Water Resources (2006–2011) & former MP for Pallisa District Women's Representative (2001–2011)
- Dr. Jeremiah Twatwa - Physician & politician, the elected Member of Parliament for "Iki-Iki County", Budaka District (2011–2016)
- Nduga Ambrose Kagaire,[Budaka district,Kakule sub county],heavenly talented creative writer for poetry,screen plays and a professional micro finance specialist who has done vivid research and written on Islamic banking in his book THE BASICS IN ISLAMIC BANKING,a book recommended by Mr Omeke Micheal a senior micro finance lecturer at Kyambogo University.
- Mzee Zerubabel Kengo|Renown Teacher
Economic activities[edit]
The main economic activity of the Bagwere is subsistence crop agriculture and animal husbandry. To a lesser extent, fishing, fish farming and bee keeping are increasingly practiced in Pallisa District.[2] The major crops include:
- Cassava
- Millet
- Sorghum
- Maize
- Groundnuts
- Beans
- Peas
- Sweet potatoes
- Rice
- Cotton
- Sunflower
- Soybeans
- Bananas
- Matooke
Cattle, goats, sheep, poultry, pigs, are some of the animals raised in the district. The district is further blessed with nine (9) minor lakes that comprise part of the Lake Kyoga system. The following are the nine lakes:
There are nine (9) stocked fish farms in the district. Fish farming offers a big potential to increase the supply of fish for the population and hence improve on the nutrition of the population. Fish species include:


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Just as the title says. I'm trying to create more scenes, as I've never done much more than illustrating characters. Let me know if you think it could be improved in any way. Thanks for viewing! @2x
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Jeremy is a key lime pie freak. It's no secret that my greatest joy is making dishes that my honey absolutely loooooves. I'm sure I have, on many occasions, listed out his favorite things. On the top of that list is key lime pie. Oh yea, he loves that tartness with a hint of sweet and silky smooth filling. I have made a key lime pie and he loved it but since this is frozen desserts month, I wanted to mix it up a bit! I took the flavors of key lime pie and turned it into these adorable individual frozen key lime pies, and guess what?! They tastes shockingly close to the original! But, more refreshing being ice cold, YUM! Perfect summer dessert.
Individual Frozen Key Lime Pies


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Welcome to the ECOTT(Eagle County Classrooms of Tomorrow-Today) wiki!This wiki has been established to serve as a "tool box" for teachers to share their experiences, resources, and newly gained knowledge with the entire school district and the world. The ECOTT program is supported by a grant awarded by the U.S. Department of Education under Title II, Part D of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (NCLB) - Enhancing Education Through Technology to the Colorado Department of Education and is funded through The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. Thank you to the Colorado Department of Education for approving and supporting this grant program in our school district.
Please feel free to look through or perhaps join our wiki to add your own knowledge and input.
E2T2 Grant CohortThe E2T2 Grant Cohort is off and running! We have been learning new tools and methods of bringing 21st Century Learning experiences to our students. Click on one of the links below to see what we have been learning so far:
- E2T2 Home Page
- Collaboration
- Critical Thinking & Reasoning
- Invention
- Information Literacy
- Self Direction
- Copyright Information
21st Century Learning Expo (21CLExpo)Each year at the Motivation and Engagement conference for Eagle County Schools, we include a showcase of our own teachers who lead their colleagues through discovery sessions of new tools and ideas for the classroom. This set of sessions are aligned with the district 21st Century Skill Standards of Critical Thinking & Reasoning, Collaboration, Invention, Self-Direction, Information Literacy, and Globalness. In 2009, we held the first of what will hopefully be a long tradition for Eagle County Schools and the overwhelming response by teachers was, "We want more!". Here are the list of presenters and links to their resources:
|Grades 9-12
|Geoff Grimmer: Invention with Google Apps
|Lisa Derse/Zach Fink: Critical Thinking with Promethean ActivExpressions
|Barb Romersheuser, Stephen Miller, Penny Lofaro, Becky Pitman: Information Literacy Smackdown
|Kathy Ferrel: Information Literacy with Primary Sources
|Mary Ann Stavney: Globalness through Activism and technology
|Matt Abramowitz:
Communication and Collaboration with VoiceThread in the k-8 classroom
|Sara Snowwhite/Sarah Kleiforth: Collaboration using Google Docs and Ning
|Stephanie Gallegos/Noel Falk: Using photo essays and blogs to achieve higher order thinking and sound reasoning.
|Troy Dudley: Self Direction through Blogging
|Marcie Gass/Pat Hollandsworth: Self-Direction with iPod Touches
|Miles McGeehan: Low Tech and High Tech: Routines in Critical Thinking
|David Russell: Invention using Google Apps and other web 2.0 tools
Year 1 of E2T2 Grant CompleteDuring the 2009-2010 school year, Eagle County Schools completed the first year of the grant with a cohort of 19 high school teachers. Here is the mid-year report which summarizes our efforts.
The first cohort also engaged in professional dialog using a Ning web site to blog and share information. This site can be found at http://classroomsoftomorrow.ning.com/


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Everyone once in awhile, someone creates a Twilio logo and sends us a picture (usually via Twitter). Some of your might remember the Twilio Burgers… and now we have Twilio in the snow thanks to David Jones! Now I'm just waiting for someone to do Twilio crop circles… that might be fun weekend project.
Tag: twilio logo
Twilio Burgers anyone?
Last night, Brian from LetsCallMe (a customer of ours) spotted the likeness to the Twilio logo in his uncooked hamburgers. John: "At least two of them weren't grey."


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Our panel looks at the big stories in the news.
New PVTA Operations Center Moving Ahead
Construction Could Start Later This Year
The PVTA had expected to receive $71 million from the state to replace the old trolley barn it currently uses to maintain more than 100 buses.
Parts Of Western Mass., New England In A Moderate Drought
Precipitation levels at Bradley International Airport are almost six inches below normal since January, and down twelve inches since 2015.
Massachusetts U.S. Senator Elizabeth Warren Makes VP Short List
Massachusetts U.S. Senator Elizabeth Warren will campaign in Ohio next Monday with presumptive democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton. The announcement comes just after news broke that Warren is on Clinton's shortlist for vice president.
Summer Fiction: Jung Yun's 'Shelter'
A Korean-American family's story of lies, identity and loss. That's what you'll find in "Shelter," the debut novel of Jung Yun — who until this month taught at UMass Amherst.
MORE BOOKS: NEPR's Summer Fiction series
It's 'Wait And See' If New Federal Chemical Safety Law Will Impact State Regulations
A broken Toxic Substances Control Act has been overhauled. In the updated law, the EPA now has the power to reviews thousands of chemicals used in products and in the workplace. States, which have for years been making their own regulations, may no longer have the final say on safety.
'Why Was I Spared?' Ivan Backer Reflects On Life After Escaping The Holocaust
Hartford resident Ivan Backer was one of 669 Czechoslovakian children who escaped the Nazis on "Kindertransport" trains.
Mass. Sales Tax Holiday Could Be On The Chopping Block
Senate President Stan Rosenberg says dropping the sales tax holiday could save the state up to $25 million.
RELATED: Mass. Lawmakers Scramble To Deal With Downturn In State Revenues
Mass. Lawmakers Scramble To Deal With Downturn In State Revenues
With just days remaining in the state's current fiscal year, legislative budget negotiators are scrambling to get a handle on an unexpected downturn in revenues.
Soup Of The Day: Invasive Crab Bisque
Green crabs are native to Europe and Africa, but arrived in New England two hundred years ago. They eat a lot of the things fisherman are after: clams, oysters, mussels, soft shell crabs and scallops.
The Week Ahead On Beacon Hill
Budget negotiators in the Massachusetts legislature are facing big challenges and a looming deadline after the Baker administration announced a drop in expected revenue for the next fiscal year.
Connecticut Community College Offers Discount To Massachusetts Residents
Colleges and universities in New England are increasingly offering discounts to attract students from nearby states.
Family Court Offers New Approach For Addicted Parents
Franklin County launches first "Family Drug Court" in the state to help parents with addiction get help before they lose custody of their children.
The Short List: Massachusetts' Strict Gun Laws, Scrutiny On Sick Time, A Look At Legislative Showdowns
Our panel looks at the big stories in the news.
Reflections After A Visit To The Site Of Charleston Shootings
We've brought you stories of the victims and survivors of the mass shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando. A year ago our airwaves and website were filled with stories of another mass shooting, at a historic black church in Charleston, South Carolina.


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Cheese products sold in NC recalled
Published: Monday, June 22, 2009 at 11:34 p.m.
Last Modified: Monday, June 22, 2009 at 11:34 p.m.
The following recalls have been announced:
Torres Hillsdale Country Cheese of Reading, Mich., is recalling all lots of muenster, brick, queso quesadilla Michigan and farmers cheeses because they could be contaminated with listeria monocytogenes.
This organism can cause serious and sometimes fatal infections in young children, frail or elderly people, and others with weakened immune systems.
It can also cause miscarriages and stillbirths in pregnant women. No illness has been reported.
The cheeses were sold in 5- to 6-pound blocks at stores and delis in the following states: Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan, Missouri, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee and Wisconsin.
The products were sold under the name "Aguas Calientes," and the packages may carry the label "Torres Hillsdale Country Cheese LLC." Details: by phone at 517-368-5990, on the Web: http://www.fda.gov/Safety/Recalls/ucm166366.htm.
Reader comments posted to this article may be published in our print edition. All rights reserved. This copyrighted material may not be re-published without permission. Links are encouraged.
Comments are currently unavailable on this article


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Powerfully alive . . . Knausgaard is intense and utterly honest, unafraid to voice universal anxieties . . . He wants us to inhabit the ordinariness of life, which is sometimes visionary, sometimes banal, and sometimes momentous, but all of it perforce ordinary because it happens in the course of a life, and happens, in different forms, to everyone . . . There is something ceaselessly compelling about Knausgaard's book.
My Struggle, Book 1by Karl Ove Knausgaard
View All Available Formats & Editions
My Struggle: Book One introduces American readers to the audacious, addictive, and profoundly surprising international literary sensation that is the provocative and brilliant six-volume autobiographical novel by Karl Ove Knausgaard. It has already been anointed a Proustian masterpiece and is the rare work of dazzling literary originality that is/i>
My Struggle: Book One introduces American readers to the audacious, addictive, and profoundly surprising international literary sensation that is the provocative and brilliant six-volume autobiographical novel by Karl Ove Knausgaard. It has already been anointed a Proustian masterpiece and is the rare work of dazzling literary originality that is intensely, irresistibly readable. Unafraid of the big issuesdeath, love, art, fearand yet committed to the intimate details of life as it is lived, My Struggle is an essential work of contemporary literature.
Editorial Reviews
Powerfully alive . . . Knausgaard is intense and utterly honest, unafraid to voice universal anxieties . . . He wants us to inhabit the ordinariness of life, which is sometimes visionary, sometimes banal, and sometimes momentous, but all of it perforce ordinary because it happens in the course of a life, and happens, in different forms, to everyone . . . There is something ceaselessly compelling about Knausgaard's book.
"Powerfully alive . . . Knausgaard is intense and utterly honest, unafraid to voice universal anxieties . . . He wants us to inhabit the ordinariness of life, which is sometimes visionary, sometimes banal, and sometimes momentous, but all of it perforce ordinary because it happens in the course of a life, and happens, in different forms, to everyone . . . There is something ceaselessly compelling about Knausgaard's book." James Wood, The New Yorker (selected as one of the Books of the Year)
"A fantastic novel . . . I cannot say anything other than that I am looking forward desperately to the rest of it." Dagsavisen (Norway)
"Knausgaard's thinking is magnificently unbridled." Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (germany)
"Between Proust and the woods . . . Like granite, precise and forceful. More real than reality." La Repubblica (Italy)
"I can't stop, I want to stop, I can't stop, just one more page, then I will cook dinner, just one more page . . ." Västerbottens-kuriren (Sweden)
A Norwegian novelist plumbs his interior life, particularly his troubled relationship with his late father, in this curiously affecting opening to a multipart epic. "Epic," though, may not be quite the right word to apply to what Knausgaard (Out of This World, 2005; A Time for Everything, 2009), has accomplished. Though the book, a bestseller in his homeland, is composed of six volumes, its focus is on the author's quotidian, banal, sometimes-frivolous experiences. One extended sequence follows his ham-handed interview as a teenager of a well-known Norwegian author; another covers his ham-handed attempt to play in a rock band; another tracks his ham-handed efforts to get to a New Year's Eve party. Sense a pattern? Knausgaard is emotionally clumsy to be sure, but remarkably, almost miraculously, his novel never comes off as a plea for sympathy, as so many memoirs (or memoir-novels) are. He means to strip experiences and emotional responses to their bare essences, and over time, the book evokes a feeling of fully inhabiting a character that typical rhetorical somersaulting often doesn't. That's not to say the storytelling is aimless or can't be emotionally piercing: The book concludes with a long section of Karl Ove and his brother, Yngve, clearing out their alcoholic father's rural home while minding their grandmother, who appears to be succumbing to alcoholism herself. Scrubbing down the impossibly filthy home is dry stuff on the sentence level ("I filled the bucket with water, took a bottle of Klorin, a bottle of green soap and a bottle of Jif scouring cream…"), but the slow accrual of detail masterfully evokes the slow effort to reckon with the past. The title, with its echo of Hitler's memoir, is a provocation, but a considered one—Knausgaard's reckoning with his past is no less serious for lacking drama and outsize tragedy. A simple and surprising effort to capture everyday life that rewards the time given to it.
Product Details
- 9780374534141
- Publisher:
- Farrar, Straus and Giroux
- Publication date:
- 05/28/2013
- Series:
- My Struggle Series, #1
- Edition description:
- Reprint
- Pages:
- 448
- Sales rank:
- 57,800
- Product dimensions:
- 5.50(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.30(d)
Read an Excerpt
For the heart, life is simple: it beats for as long as it can. Then it stops. Sooner or later, one day, this pounding action will cease of its own accord, and the blood will begin to run toward the body's lowest point, where it will collect in a small pool, visible from outside as a dark, soft patch on ever whitening skin, as the temperature sinks, the limbs stiffen and the intestines drain. These changes in the first hours occur so slowly and take place with such inexorability that there is something almost ritualistic about them, as though life capitulates according to specific rules, a kind of gentleman's agreement to which the representatives of death also adhere, inasmuch as they always wait until life has retreated before they launch their invasion of the new landscape. By which point, however, the invasion is irrevocable. The enormous hordes of bacteria that begin to infiltrate the body's innards cannot be halted. Had they but tried a few hours earlier, they would have met with immediate resistance; however everything around them is quiet now, as they delve deeper and deeper into the moist darkness. They advance on the Havers Channels, the Crypts of Lieberkühn, the Isles of Langerhans. They proceed to Bowman's Capsule in the Renes, Clark's Column in the Spinalis, the black substance in the Mesencephalon. And they arrive at the heart. As yet, it is intact, but deprived of the activity to which end its whole construction has been designed, there is something strangely desolate about it, like a production plant that workers have been forced to flee in haste, or so it appears, the stationary vehicles shining yellow against the darkness of the forest, the huts deserted, a line of fully loaded cable-buckets stretching up the hillside.
The moment life departs the body, it belongs to death. At one with lamps, suitcases, carpets, door handles, windows. Fields, marshes, streams, mountains, clouds, the sky. None of these is alien to us. We are constantly surrounded by objects and phenomena from the realm of death. Nonetheless, there are few things that arouse in us greater distaste than to a see a human being caught up in it, at least if we are to judge by the efforts we make to keep corpses out of sight. In larger hospitals they are not only hidden away in discrete, inaccessible rooms, even the pathways there are concealed, with their own elevators and basement corridors, and should you stumble upon one of them, the dead bodies being wheeled by are always covered. When they have to be transported from the hospital it is through a dedicated exit, into vehicles with tinted glass; in the church grounds there is a separate, windowless room for them; during the funeral ceremony they lie in closed coffins until they are lowered into the earth or cremated in the oven. It is hard to imagine what practical purpose this procedure might serve. The uncovered bodies could be wheeled along the hospital corridors, for example, and thence be transported in an ordinary taxi without this posing a particular risk to anyone. The elderly man who dies during a cinema performance might just as well remain in his seat until the film is over, and during the next two for that matter. The teacher who has a heart attack in the school playground does not necessarily have to be driven away immediately; no damage is done by leaving him where he is until the caretaker has time to attend to him, even though that might not be until sometime in the late afternoon or evening. What difference would it make if a bird were to alight on him and take a peck? Would what awaits him in the grave be any better just because it is hidden? As long as the dead are not in the way there is no need for any rush, they cannot die a second time. Cold snaps in the winter should be particularly propitious in such circumstances. The homeless who freeze to death on benches and in doorways, the suicidal who jump off high buildings and bridges, elderly women who fall down staircases, traffic victims trapped in wrecked cars, the young man who, in a drunken stupor, falls into the lake after a night on the town, the small girl who ends up under the wheel of a bus, why all this haste to remove them from the public eye? Decency? What could be more decent than to allow the girl's mother and father to see her an hour or two later, lying in the snow at the site of the accident, in full view, her crushed head and the rest of her body, her blood-spattered hair and the spotless padded jacket? Visible to the whole world, no secrets, the way she was. But even this one hour in the snow is unthinkable. A town that does not keep its dead out of sight, that leaves people where they died, on highways and byways, in parks and parking lots, is not a town but a hell. The fact that this hell reflects our life experience in a more realistic and essentially truer way is of no consequence. We know this is how it is, but we do not want to face it. Hence the collective act of repression symbolized by the concealment of our dead.
What exactly it is that is being repressed, however, is not so easy to say. It cannot be death itself, for its presence in society is much too prominent. The number of deaths reported in newspapers or shown on the TV news every day varies slightly according to circumstances, but the annual average will presumably tend to be constant, and since it is spread over so many channels virtually impossible to avoid. Yet that kind of death does not seem threatening. Quite the contrary, it is something we are drawn to and will happily pay to see. Add the enormously high body count in fiction and it becomes even harder to understand the system that keeps death out of sight. If the phenomenon of death does not frighten us, why then this distaste for dead bodies? It must mean either that there are two kinds of death or that there is a disparity between our conception of death and death as it actually turns out to be, which in effect boils down to the same thing. What is significant here is that our conception of death is so strongly rooted in our consciousness that we are not only shaken when we see that reality deviates from it, but we also try to conceal this with all the means at our disposal. Not as a result of some form of conscious deliberation, as has been the case with funeral rites, the form and meaning of which are negotiable nowadays, and thus have shifted from the sphere of the irrational to the rational, from the collective to the individual – no, the way we remove bodies has never been the subject of debate, it has always been just something we have done, out of a necessity for which no one can state a reason but everyone feels: if your father dies on the lawn one windswept Sunday in autumn, you carry him indoors if you can, and if you can't, you at least cover him with a blanket. This impulse, however, is not the only one we have with regard to the dead. No less conspicuous than our hiding the corpses is the fact that we always lower them to ground level as fast as possible. A hospital that transports its bodies upward, that sites its cold chambers on the upper floors is practically inconceivable. The dead are stored as close to the ground as possible. And the same principle applies to the agencies that attend them; an insurance company may well have its offices on the eighth floor, but not a funeral parlor. All funeral parlors have their offices as close to street level as possible. Why this should be so is hard to say; one might be tempted to believe that it was based on some ancient convention that originally had a practical purpose, such as a cellar being cold and therefore best suited to storing corpses, and that this principle had been retained in our era of refrigerators and cold-storage rooms, had it not been for the notion that transporting bodies upward in buildings seems contrary to the laws of nature, as though height and death are mutually incompatible. As though we possessed some kind of chthonic instinct, something deep within us that urges us to move death down to the earth whence we came.
* * *
It might thus appear that death is relayed through two distinct systems. One is associated with concealment and gravity, earth and darkness, the other with openness and airiness, ether and light. A father and his child are killed as the father attempts to pull the child out of the line of fire in a town somewhere in the Middle East, and the image of them huddled together as the bullets thud into flesh, causing their bodies to shudder, as it were, is caught on camera, transmitted to one of the thousands of satellites orbiting the Earth and broadcast on TV sets around the world, from where it slips into our consciousness as yet another picture of death or dying. These images have no weight, no depth, no time, and no place, nor do they have any connection to the bodies that spawned them. They are nowhere and everywhere. Most of them just pass through us and are gone; for diverse reasons some linger and live on in the dark recesses of the brain. An off-piste skier falls and severs an artery in her thigh, blood streams out leaving a red trail down the white slope; she is dead even before her body comes to a halt. A plane takes off, flames shoot out from the engines as it climbs, the sky above the suburban houses is blue, the plane explodes in a ball of fire beneath. A fishing smack sinks off the coast of northern Norway one night, the crew of seven drown, next morning the event is described in all the newspapers, it is a so-called mystery, the weather was calm and no mayday call was sent from the boat, it just disappeared, a fact which the TV stations underline that evening by flying over the scene of the drama in a helicopter and showing pictures of the empty sea. The sky is overcast, the gray-green swell heavy but calm, as though possessing a different temperament from the choppy, white-flecked waves that burst forth here and there. I am sitting alone watching, it is some time in spring, I suppose, for my father is working in the garden. I stare at the surface of the sea without listening to what the reporter says, and suddenly the outline of a face emerges. I don't know how long it stays there, a few seconds perhaps, but long enough for it to have a huge impact on me. The moment the face disappears I get up to find someone I can tell. My mother is on the evening shift, my brother is playing soccer, and the other children on our block won't listen, so it has to be Dad, I think, and hurry down the stairs, jump into shoes, thread my arms through the sleeves of my jacket, open the door, and run around the house. We are not allowed to run in the garden, so just before I enter his line of vision, I slow down and start walking. He is standing at the rear of the house, down in what will be the vegetable plot, lunging at a boulder with a sledgehammer. Even though the hollow is only a few meters deep, the black soil he has dug up and is standing on together with the dense clump of rowan trees growing beyond the fence behind him cause the twilight to deepen. As he straightens up and turns to me, his face is almost completely shrouded in darkness.
Nevertheless I have more than enough information to know his mood. This is apparent not from his facial expressions but his physical posture, and you do not read it with your mind but with your intuition.
He puts down the sledgehammer and removes his gloves.
"Well?" he says.
"I've just seen a face in the sea on TV," I say, coming to a halt on the lawn above him. The neighbor had felled a pine tree earlier in the afternoon and the air is filled with the strong resin smell from the logs lying on the other side of the stone wall.
"A diver?" Dad says. He knows I am interested in divers, and I suppose he cannot imagine I would find anything else interesting enough to make me come out and tell him about it.
I shake my head.
"It wasn't a person. It was something I saw in the sea."
"Something you saw, eh," he says, taking the packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket.
I nod and turn to go.
"Wait a minute," he says.
He strikes a match and bends his head forward to light the cigarette. The flame carves out a small grotto of light in the gray dusk.
"Right," he says.
After taking a deep drag, he places one foot on the rock and stares in the direction of the forest on the other side of the road. Or perhaps he is staring at the sky above the trees.
"Was it Jesus you saw?" he asks, looking up at me. Had it not been for the friendly voice and the long pause before the question I would have thought he was poking fun at me. He finds it rather embarrassing that I am a Christian; all he wants of me is that I do not stand out from the other kids, and of all the teeming mass of kids on the estate no one other than his youngest son calls himself a Christian.
But he is really giving this some thought.
I feel a rush of happiness because he actually cares, while still feeling vaguely offended that he can underestimate me in this way.
I shake my head.
"It wasn't Jesus," I say.
"That's nice to hear," Dad says with a smile. Higher up on the hillside the faint whistle of bicycle tires on pavement can be heard. The sound grows, and it is so quiet on the estate that the low singing tone at the heart of the whistle resonates loud and clear, and soon afterward the bicycle races past us on the road.
Dad takes another drag at the cigarette before tossing it half-smoked over the fence, then coughs a couple of times, pulls on his gloves, and grabs the sledgehammer again.
"Don't give it another thought," he says, glancing up at me.
* * *
I was eight years old that evening, my father thirty-two. Even though I still can't say that I understand him or know what kind of person he was, the fact that I am now seven years older than he was then makes it easier for me to grasp some things. For example, how great the difference was between our days. While my days were jam-packed with meaning, when each step opened a new opportunity, and when every opportunity filled me to the brim, in a way which now is actually incomprehensible, the meaning of his days was not concentrated in individual events but spread over such large areas that it was not possible to comprehend them in anything other than abstract terms. "Family" was one such term, "career" another. Few or no unforeseen opportunities at all can have presented themselves in the course of his days, he must always have known in broad outline what they would bring and how he would react. He had been married for twelve years, he had worked as a middle-school teacher for eight of them, he had two children, a house and a car. He had been elected onto the local council and appointed to the executive committee representing the Liberal Party. During the winter months he occupied himself with philately, not without some progress: inside a short space of time he had become one of the country's leading stamp collectors, while in the summer months gardening took up what leisure he had. What he was thinking on this spring evening I have no idea, nor even what perception he had of himself as he straightened up in the gloom with the sledgehammer in his hands, but I am fairly sure that there was some feeling inside him that he understood the surrounding world quite well. He knew who all the neighbors on the estate were and what social status they held in relation to himself, and I imagine he knew quite a bit about what they preferred to keep to themselves, as he taught their children and also because he had a good eye for others' weaknesses. Being a member of the new educated middle class he was also well-informed about the wider world, which came to him every day via the newspaper, radio, and television. He knew quite a lot about botany and zoology because he had been interested while he was growing up, and though not exactly conversant with other science subjects he did at least have some command of their basic principles from secondary school. He was better at history, which he had studied at university along with Norwegian and English. In other words, he was not an expert at anything, apart from maybe pedagogy, but he knew a bit about everything. In this respect he was a typical schoolteacher, though, from a time when secondary school teaching still carried some status. The neighbor who lived on the other side of the wall, Prestbakmo, worked as a teacher at the same school, as did the neighbor who lived on top of the tree-covered slope behind our house, Olsen, while one of the neighbors who lived at the far end of the ring road, Knudsen, was the head teacher of another middle school. So when my father raised the sledgehammer above his head and let it fall on the rock that spring evening in the mid-1970s, he was doing so in a world he knew and was familiar with. It was not until I myself reached the same age that I understood there was indeed a price to pay for this. As your perspective of the world increases not only is the pain it inflicts on you less but also its meaning. Understanding the world requires you to take a certain distance from it. Things that are too small to see with the naked eye, such as molecules and atoms, we magnify. Things that are too large, such as cloud formations, river deltas, constellations, we reduce. At length we bring it within the scope of our senses and we stabilize it with fixer. When it has been fixed we call it knowledge. Throughout our childhood and teenage years, we strive to attain the correct distance to objects and phenomena. We read, we learn, we experience, we make adjustments. Then one day we reach the point where all the necessary distances have been set, all the necessary systems have been put in place. That is when time begins to pick up speed. It no longer meets any obstacles, everything is set, time races through our lives, the days pass by in a flash and before we know what is happening we are forty, fifty, sixty … Meaning requires content, content requires time, time requires resistance. Knowledge is distance, knowledge is stasis and the enemy of meaning. My picture of my father on that evening in 1976 is, in other words, twofold: on the one hand I see him as I saw him at that time, through the eyes of an eight-year-old: unpredictable and frightening; on the other hand, I see him as a peer through whose life time is blowing and unremittingly sweeping large chunks of meaning along with it.
* * *
The crack of sledgehammer on rock resounded through the estate. A car came up the gentle slope from the main road and passed, its lights blazing. The door of the neighboring house opened, Prestbakmo paused on the doorstep, pulled on his work gloves, and seemed to sniff the clear night air before grabbing the wheelbarrow and trundling it across the lawn. There was a smell of gunpowder from the rock Dad was pounding, of pine from the logs behind the stone wall, freshly dug soil and forest, and in the gentle northerly breeze a whiff of salt. I thought of the face I had seen in the sea. Even though only a couple of minutes had passed since I last considered it, everything had changed. Now it was Dad's face I saw.
Down in the hollow he took a break from hammering at the rock.
"Are you still there, boy?"
I nodded.
"Get yourself inside."
I started to walk.
"And Karl Ove, remember," he said.
I paused, turned my head, puzzled.
"No running this time."
I stared at him. How could he know I had run?
"And shut your maw," he said. "You look like an idiot."
I did as he said, closed my mouth and walked slowly around the house. Reaching the front, I saw the road was full of children. The oldest stood in a group with their bikes, which in the dusk almost appeared as an extension of their bodies. The youngest were playing Kick-the-Can. The ones who had been tagged stood inside a chalk circle on the pavement; the others were hidden at various places in the forest down from the road, out of sight of the person guarding the can but visible to me.
The lights on the bridge masts glowed red above the black treetops. Another car came up the hill. The headlights illuminated the cyclists first, a brief glimpse of reflectors, metal, Puffa jackets, black eyes and white faces, then the children, who had taken no more than the one necessary step aside to allow the car to pass and were now standing like ghosts, gawking.
It was the Trollneses, the parents of Sverre, a boy in my class. He didn't seem to be with them.
I turned and followed the red taillights until they disappeared over the summit of the hill. Then I went in. For a while I tried to lie on my bed reading, but could not settle, and instead went into Yngve's room, from where I could see Dad. When I could see him I felt safer with him, and in a way that was what mattered most. I knew his moods and had learned how to predict them long ago, by means of a kind of subconscious categorization system, I have later come to realize, whereby the relationship between a few constants was enough to determine what was in store for me, allowing me to make my own preparations. A kind of metereology of the mind … The speed of the car up the gentle gradient to the house, the time it took him to switch off the engine, grab his things, and step out, the way he looked around as he locked the car, the subtle nuances of the various sounds that rose from the hall as he removed his coat – everything was a sign, everything could be interpreted. To this was added information about where he had been, and with whom, how long he had been away, before the conclusion, which was the only part of the process of which I was conscious, was drawn. So, what frightened me most was when he turned up without warning … when for some reason I had been inattentive …
How on earth did he know I had been running?
This was not the first time he had caught me out in a way I found incomprehensible. One evening that autumn, for example, I had hidden a bag of sweets under the duvet for the express reason that I had a hunch he would come into my room, and there was no way he would believe my explanation of how I had laid my hands on the money to buy them. When, sure enough, he did come in, he stood watching me for a few seconds.
"What have you got hidden in your bed?" he asked.
How could he possibly have known?
Outside, Prestbakmo switched on the powerful lamp that was mounted over the flagstones where he usually worked. The new island of light that emerged from the blackness displayed a whole array of objects that he stood stock-still ogling. Columns of paint cans, jars containing paintbrushes, logs, bits of planking, folded tarpaulins, car tires, a bicycle frame, some toolboxes, tins of screws and nails of all shapes and sizes, a tray of milk cartons with flower seedlings, sacks of lime, a rolled-up hose pipe, and leaning against the wall, a board on which every conceivable tool was outlined, presumably intended for the hobby room in the cellar.
Glancing outside at Dad again, I saw him crossing the lawn with the sledgehammer in one hand and a spade in the other. I took a couple of hasty steps backward. As I did so the front door burst open. It was Yngve. I looked at my watch. Twenty-eight minutes past eight. When, straight afterward, he came up the stairs with the familiar, slightly jerky, almost duck-like gait we had developed so as to be able to walk fast inside the house without making a sound, he was breathless and ruddy-cheeked.
"Where's Dad?" he asked as soon as he was in the room.
"In the garden," I said. "But you're not late. Look, it's half past eight now."
I showed him my watch.
He walked past me and pulled the chair from under the desk. He still smelled of outdoors. Cold air, forest, gravel, pavement.
"Have you been messing with my cassettes?" he asked.
"No," I answered.
"What are you doing in my room, then?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Can't you do nothing in your own room?"
Below us, the front door opened again. This time it was Dad's heavy footsteps traversing the floor downstairs. He had removed his boots outside, as usual, and was on his way to the washroom to change.
"I saw a face in the sea on the news tonight," I said. "Have you heard anything about it? Do you know if anyone else saw it?"
Yngve eyed me with a half-curious, half-dismissive expression.
"What are you babbling on about?"
"You know the fishing boat that sank?"
He gave a barely perceptible nod.
"When they were showing the place where it sank on the news I saw a face in the sea."
"A dead body?"
"No. It wasn't a real face. The sea had formed into the shape of a face."
For a moment he watched me without saying anything. Then he tapped a forefinger on his temple.
"Don't you believe me?" I said. "It's absolutely true."
"The truth is you're a waste of space."
At that moment Dad switched off the tap downstairs, and I decided it was best to go to my room now so that there was no chance of meeting him on the landing. But I did not want Yngve to have the last word.
"You're the one who's a waste of space," I said.
He could not even be bothered to answer. Just turned his face toward me, stuck out his top teeth and blew air through them like a rabbit. The gesture was a reference to my protruding teeth. I broke away and made off before he could see my tears. As long as I was alone my crying didn't bother me. And this time it had worked, hadn't it? Because he hadn't seen me?
I paused inside the door of my room and wondered for a moment whether to go to the bathroom. I could rinse my face with cold water and remove the telltale signs. But Dad was on his way up the stairs, so I made do with wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my sweater. The thin layer of moisture that the dry material spread across my eye made the surfaces and colors of the room blur as though it had suddenly sunk and was now under water, and so real was this perception that I raised my arms and made a few swimming strokes as I walked toward the writing desk. In my mind I was wearing a metal diver's helmet from the early days of diving, when they bestrode the seabed with leaden shoes and suits as thick as elephant skin, with an oxygen pipe attached to their heads like a kind of trunk. I wheezed through my mouth and staggered around for a while with the heavy, sluggish movements of divers from bygone days until the horror of the sensation slowly began to seep in like cold water.
A few months before, I had seen the TV series The Mysterious Island, based on Jules Verne's novel, and the story of those men who landed their air balloon on a deserted island in the Atlantic had made an enormous impact on me from the very first moment. Everything was electric. The air balloon, the storm, the men dressed in nineteenth-century clothing, the weather-beaten, barren island where they had been marooned, which apparently was not as deserted as they imagined, mysterious and inexplicable things were always happening around them … but in that case who were the others? The answer came without warning toward the end of one episode. There was someone in the underwater caves … a number of humanoid creatures … in the light from the lamps they were carrying they saw glimpses of smooth, masked heads … fins … they resembled a kind of lizard but walked upright … with containers on their backs … one turned, he had no eyes …
I did not scream when I saw these things, but the horror the images instilled would not go away; even in the bright light of day I could be struck with terror by the very thought of the frogmen in the cave. And now my thoughts were turning me into one of them. My wheezing became theirs, my footsteps theirs, my arms theirs, and closing my eyes, it was those eyeless faces of theirs I saw before me. The cave … the black water … the line of frogmen with lamps in their hands … It became so bad that opening my eyes again did not help. Even though I could see I was in my room, surrounded by familiar objects, the terror did not release its grip. I hardly dared blink for fear that something might happen. Stiffly, I sat down on the bed, reached for my satchel without looking at it, glanced at the school timetable, found Wednesday, read what it said, math, orientation, music, lifted the satchel onto my lap and mechanically flipped through the books inside. This done, I took the open book from the pillow, sat against the wall and began to read. The seconds between looking up soon became minutes, and when Dad shouted it was time for supper, nine o'clock on the dot, it was not horror that had me in its thrall but the book. Tearing myself away from it was quite an effort too.
Copyright © 2009 by Karl Ove Knausgaard
English language translation copyright © 2012 by Don Bartlett
Meet the Author
Karl Ove Knausgaard was born in Norway in 1968. My Struggle has won countless international literary awards and has been translated into more than fifteen languages. Knausgaard lives in Sweden with his wife and three children.
Don Bartlett has translated dozens of books of various genres, including several novels and short story collections by Jo Nesbø and It's Fine by Me by Per Petterson. He lives in Norfolk, England.
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This was a powerful read.....he touches on so many life issues we all face, even though imore of a memoir. It stays with you, and I have just purchased vol 2
Despite the awful title, whose significance I still don't get since the author is not a Nazi, I loved reading this book every night UNTIL Karl Ove and his brother arrived at Grandma's after their father's death. They spent days and nights super-cleaning the house, but allowed this very old woman to sit and sleep in her own urine, day and night without doing anything to help her and to prevent a steady stream of pee moving through her house. And why? They had many decent alternatives: re-hire the Home Assistant that her son had ordered, get her to a doctor, ask Tove to personally assist her, and to call and get one or both of their wives to come and take over. This was a horrible situation and a dreadful ending to an otherwise great book. Why not take care of the grieving human before dealing with the filthy house?
More than a memoir, he writes of his thoughts and his journey. Extremely powerful and very easy to read although it was so well written that I wanted to take my time and savor every word. ~*~LEB~*~
Incredible. I could not put this down, and when finished I immediately took up volume two. An utterly compelling writing style. I highly recommend this!


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Any Human Heart Paperback – Jan 26 2010
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From Amazon
Logan Gonzago Mountstuart, writer, was born in 1906, and died of a heart attack on October 5, 1991, aged 85. Any Human Heart is his disjointed autobiography, a massive tome chronicling "my personal rollercoaster"--or rather, "not so much a rollercoaster", but a yo-yo, "a jerking spinning toy in the hands of a maladroit child". From his early childhood in Montevideo, son of an English corned beef executive and his Uraguayan secretary, through his years at a Norfolk public school and Oxford, Mountstuart traces his haphazard development as a writer. Early and easy success is succeeded by a long half-century of mediocrity, disappointments and setbacks, both personal and professional, leading him to multiple failed marriages, internment, alcoholism and abject poverty.
Mountstuart's sorry tale is also the story of a British way of life in inexorable decline, as his journey takes in the Bloomsbury set, the General Strike, the Spanish Civil War, 1930s Americans in Paris, wartime espionage, New York avant garde art, even the Baader-Meinhof gang--all with a stellar supporting cast. The most sustained and best moment comes mid-book, as Mountstuart gets caught up in one of Britain's murkier wartime secrets, in the company of the here truly despicable Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Elsewhere author William Boyd occasionally misplaces his tongue too obviously in his cheek--the Wall Street Crash is trailed with truly crashing inelegance--but overall Any Human Heart is a witty, inventive and ultimately moving novel. Boyd succeeds in conjuring not only a compelling 20th century but also, in the hapless Logan Mountstuart, an anti-hero who achieves something approaching passive greatness. --Alan Stewart --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Publishers Weekly
Surely one of the most beguiling books of this season, this rich, sophisticated, often hilarious and disarming novel is the autobiography of a typical Englishman as told through his lifelong journal. Born to British parents in Uruguay in 1906, Logan Mountstuart attends an English prep school where he makes two friends who will be his touchstones for the next eight decades. The early entries in his journal, which record his sexual explorations and his budding ambitions, provide a clear picture of the snobbery and genteel brutality of the British social system. Logan is a decent chap, filled with a moral idealism that he will never lose, although his burning sense of justice will prove inconvenient in later years. He goes down from Oxford with a shameful Third, finds early success as a novelist, marries a rich woman he doesn't love, escapes to Spain to fight in the civil war and is about to embark on a happy existence with his second wife when WWII disrupts his and his generation's equilibrium. He's sent on a nave spying mission by British Naval Intelligence and imprisoned for two years. On his release, he finds that tragedy has struck his family. Logan's creativity is stunted, and he slides into alcoholism, chronic infidelity and loneliness. "I believe my generation was cursed by the war," Logan says, and this becomes the burden of the narrative. He resorts to journalism to earn a living, specializing in pieces about the emerging stars of the art world, whom he encounters-somewhat like Zelig-in social situations. Logan's picaresque journey through the 20th century never seems forced, however. His meetings with Picasso, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Hemingway and Ian Fleming are adroitly and credibly interposed into the junctures of his life. This flawed yet immensely appealing protagonist is one of Boyd's most distinctive creations, and his voice-articulate, introspective, urbane, stoically philosophical in the face of countless disappointments-engages the reader's empathy. Logan is a man who sees his bright future dissipate and his great love destroyed, and yet can look back with "a strange sense of pride" that he's "managed to live in every decade of this long benighted century." His unfulfilled life, with his valiant efforts to be morally responsible, to create and, finally, just to get by, is a universal story, told by a master of narrative. Boyd, back in top form, has crafted a novel at least as beautifully nuanced as A Good Man in Africa and Brazzaville Beach. Logan's journal entries are so candid and immediate it's difficult to believe he isn't real. And after 496 pages, it's hard to say good-bye.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
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If you have the time and you are looking for a summer assignment, go to the book store and purchase William Boyd's library. Read them in any order you like. But if you are looking for one excellent example of this writer's genius, then Any Human Heart is a great place to start. I cannot recommend any book more highly.
Unfortunately all is not perfect. The author decided to "be cute" by having Logan Mountstuart be personal friends of famous twentieth century characters such as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Hemingway, and Virginia Woolf. Some readers might find this to add extra spice to the story. I found it exploitative and totally unnecessary - the book is solid enough. At any rate this Forrest Gump-like diversions really don't spoil this fine book.
Bottom line: a very worthy read. William Boyd is in fine form.
It tells the story of a life that all of us want to live. Who wouldn't want to be an art dealer mingling with the literary figures of the 20th century, and then occasionally spying for the British government?
I'm neither a spy, nor a writer, but many passages in this book sounded very familiar to me. The hopes, the dreams, the expectations, and the losses, we've all lived them.
Read it and be amazed. It will not disappoint


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C++, Java, DirectX 10/11, OpenGL 3.3+, 3D Modeling, Music Tech. Yeah, you can see where this is going. I like making games. I've been working on my game engine for about a year, on and off, and by now I've got implementations of message queues, audio and graphics pipelines, Lua scripting, and a persistent thread pool, among more trivial things. Bullet physics, CEGUI, and ASIO are on their way.
I've thrown together a couple simple games over the years, jumping between mediums of UDK, Unity, Source, and my own engine. So I've got a meager amount of experience, which I feel obligated to share whenever the chance arises.
Irrelevant talents include fencing, wilderness survival, cooking, and slaying my enemies in Smite and/or Smash Bros.
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Ad Blockers, Browser Tools, Browsers, Download Managers, File Sharing/Peer to Peer, FTP Clients, Network Monitoring, Other, Remote Computing, Search/Lookup Tools, Terminal & Telnet Clients, Timers & Time Synch, Trace & Ping Tools
Security & Privacy
Access Control, Anti-Spam & Anti-Spy Tools, Anti-Virus Tools, Covert Surveillance, Encryption Tools, Other, Password Managers
Firewall & Proxy Servers, FTP Servers, Mail Servers, News Servers, Other Server Applications, Telnet Servers, Web Servers
System Utilities
Automation Tools, Backup & Restore, Benchmarking, Clipboard Tools, File & Disk Management, File Compression, Launchers & Task Managers, Other, Printer, Registry Tools, Shell Tools, System Maintenance, Text/Document Editors
Web Development
ASP & PHP, E-Commerce, Flash Tools, HTML Tools, Java & JavaScript, Log Analysers, Other, Site Administration, Wizards & Components, XML/CSS Tools
SysWatch Personal is designed to work alongside - or even replace - Microsoft Security Essentials and other signature-based security software to provide comprehensive protection for your computer. It does this by combining whitelisting, sandboxing, and behavioral analysis techniques to keep malware and intruders out - automatically. What's more, you don't lose system performance to resource-intensive scanning activities. Once you've created your system profile and trusted application register, SysWatch automatically detects and prevents unknown code (which all malware is) from executing on your PC, protecting your entire system. SysWatch Personal protects your computer proactively by controlling how applications behave. It keeps your whole system in a 'known-good' state, preventing hacker attacks and malicious software from activating. Because SysWatch Personal does not need to identify individual threats in order to block them, it doesn't need all those signature updates required by traditional security software to provide reliable protection. While you don't need to run a traditional antivirus program as well as SysWatch, you may feel more comfortable doing so until you have gained full trust in the SysWatch approach to computer security. SysWatch is fully compatible with all popular antivirus programs.
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text:
Toy boxes can become bottomless pits in kids' bedrooms, but they are very useful for storing all kinds of things in your home!
Archives for August 2011
Inexpensive Night Light
Here's an easy idea for an Inexpensive Night Light that doesn't need power!
Getting Rid Of Dust Mites
Controlling Dust Mites I have often said we worry so much about the environment outside our homes but many of us are making our families more ill because we have stopped worrying about the environment inside of our homes. When we are concerned about the indoor environment, we often focus our attention on the wrong […]
Roadrunner Users Not Receiving Our Newsletter
If you use the Roadrunner Internet service provider and you're not receiving the Living On A Dime Newsletter, it's because of a technical issue. You'll want to read this…
Menu – Spaghetti Pizza – Confetti Salad
Tips: When making your favorite fruit punch, add a package of unsweetened lemonade flavored soft drink mix to it for an extra kick. School is almost here and that means many school lunches and the favorite peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When making PB&Js, use frozen bread and spread a thin layer of peanut butter […]
Extra School Expenses
How to budget for school expenses like lunches, field trips and school pictures.
Wolfgang Puck's Butternut Squash Soup
From: Rose Jill/ and Tawra, I was finally able to get the Wolfgang Puck's Butternut Squash Soup recipe. Enjoy! 😀 The restaurant is at downtown Disney and if you ask for the recipe they have it on little recipe cards. Wolfgang Puck's Butternut Squash Soup 1 cup white onions, minced 2 oz. whole butter […]
It's Free!
All of us love to get things for free… What can you do for others?


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After the Bell
Before the Bell
Jim Cramer's Daily Booyah
Midday Bell
Top 10
Winners & Losers
Watch its stock fly, after Walt Disney reports fiscal third-quarter earnings on Tuesday.
TheStreet highlights 3 stocks pushing the media industry lower today.
Disney (DIS) stock is retreating on Tuesday morning as FBR Capital lowered its rating on shares to 'market perform.'
After a disappointing 'Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice,' DC is no match for Disney's Marvel blockbusters.
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