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Social media updates about birth...(129 Posts)
Has anyone else requested that family members don't post on social networks before we (the parents) do about the birth of DC?
I have politely mentioned to DB & DBIL as they are likely to know it is happening. Being single men with no interest in kids I am concerned about their lack of empathy re this. DBIL already took to Twitter before my 12 scan .
DB has taken offence. I have to say my relationship with him isn't straightforward/that good, so it is probably more indicative of that, but I don't think it is an unreasonable thing for us to request...?
We have just told our friends we are not talking about the pregnancy online, so have asked they don't mention it on fb.
Everyone has been most respectful so far.
I am sure that when the little bean sprout has been born we will make some kind of fb notice for friends, but that is for us to do, and noone else
Obviously you cannot control it, but I trust my friends will wait with mentioning it on FB until I have announced it there myself They are good friends, and I know they'll understand why I would want to say it first :P Don't have any issue with them talking about it once I have announced it though, if they feel the need to!
How can you control it though? You can ask and some person will ignore it because they can't imagine a life without Facebook and then you have to react to them ignoring it.
I'm quite worried about friends telling everyone on FB as soon as I spill the beans - as many of them are slightly obsessed with the site. I will have to specifically ask them not to share the news, as I plan on telling people in person rather than online, and so obviously won't tell everyone the same day. After me and my DP have finished announcing it to those we want, and when some time has passed probably, we'll put it on FB just so it's done :P Same after birth, but I will be very mad if anyone goes public with our news before us!
Message withdrawn at poster's request.
Reviving an older thread but had been following this due to similar situation in my life and it just reared it's head again and I needed a place to do a quick vent!
I'm now 17 weeks, but previous to the 12 week scan I had also asked parents (who I told as soon as I knew, around 6/7 weeks), to keep it amongst themselves until we had had scan and knew all was well. Didn't work, but hey ho, excited first time grandparents and all that.
12 week scan happened, all was well, however I then asked the prolific fb'ers in my immediate family to please keep my fb free of baby news for the time being. Talk about it on your own feed but please don't tag me or post stuff to my wall as we are still telling our friends face to face and I'm not comfortable with baby announcements on fb, dunno why, it's just not me.
This turned into a major family drama, complicated by my mum's slight ineptness at fb and lack of understanding of general fb etiquette, despite being on it all bloody day.
5 weeks later (now) she is still going on about it and has gotten it into her head that I'm not allowing her to talk about it with anyone, at all, ever.
Aaaarrghhhhh! Jeezus.. parents and social media, what an unholy alliance.
Mumofjz that's exactly what I think is the beauty of it! I don't need (or want) to spend my days after having my baby to update everyone beyond closest family, that's what I want them to do!
I don't care who, or in which order, people heard (after grandparents and siblings who by god you should be calling!), I'm very glad they are interested. It's a baby not state secrets and it's not all about your social announcement, use family and friends to spread the word to those who care while you spend time with baby! To hell with how cousin Doris hers the news and if she's so pissed of that your neighbours cat told her rather than you that she doesn't want to speak to you then seriously you're not missing out!
Not everyone wants to hide away on their own. Either way is not right or wrong so long as its what you want.
My sister had her baby on Tuesday ad she came home Wednesday. He was very keen for me and my dd to come and visit them and meet the new baby. We drove down Thursday and stayed in a local hotel. Saw him yesterday and going back today to see him soon. She wanted my parent to go the day he was born so they did.
I was similar. I wanted to have visitors and show dd off to the world! I also accepted help from my parents and inlaws so I could sleep.
I can see that, I have had 6 children so you cant tell me anything about "life goes on"
But at no point was I in a position to have to do the school run in the 48 hours after giving birth. You say "our" and "us" so you had a partner who could have done the school run while you stayed at home with the baby, which rather indicates to me that you wanted to show your baby off. Thats fine, we have all done that, I get it! But to show off your baby to the school run crowd before its own GP get to meet it is rather mean.
And I wonder how you will feel if you have a son whose wife decides that you wont be allowed to see your new grandchild until 2 days later, despite her showing said baby off to neighbours and acquaintances.
I didn't 'ban' anyone or give the baby to 'randoms' - I just didn't have any visitors to my house for a couple of days after the birth (is that a problem? The grandparents met the baby at 48 hours old. Plenty soon enough for anyone I'd have thought). I still needed to live life though and you can't stop taking the kids to school just because you've had a baby, can you! Bumping into friends/acquaintances whilst going out briefly for an essential task is different to inviting visitors round to your house for a 'meet the baby' session - or can't you see that?
Yes do that. I was a little peeved one of my friends announced our baby boy's birth on fb. We had planned a strict order of phone calls, emails then fb. When I said she'd been a bit hasty she said it was because she thought people would be worried about me. Bless her she was just highly enthusiastic and who can blame her!
Message withdrawn at poster's request.
Message withdrawn at poster's request.
I had my babies before FB or twitter and RELIED on my immediate family and friends to broadcast to the world that i had a baby etc.... Isn't this just the same?
I wasn't alarmed that the lady 3 doors down from my mums or the lads in the local knew what i had and what it was called - i simply wouldn't have been able to get round and tell EVERYONE personally.
And as for other people updating their status with the knews, isn't this what ALL people do with each other when then speak - it's called conversation!!!! You tell eachother your news, and that sometimes IS other peoples news becuase it affects you.
This has happened to lots of people I know. Before we announced I was pregnant I changed my Facebook settings so posts from people posting directly on my wall are only visible to me. Can't stop people posting status updates (although best to switch on tag approval for posts too!), but my closest friends know I would be unhappy if they did this. I'll announce on fb myself when we're ready to and once all close family, who aren't on fb, know.
Completely disagree that the parents shouldn't be able to control announcement of birth or any other details of pregnancy.
The birth could have been traumatic, the baby may have had problems after birth, the mother could still be recovering, there could be relatives who they want to contact before making general announcement.
Taking it upon yourself to making the news public on social media without consulting the parents is tactless and thoughtless.
There is no comparison to jungle drums.
YANBU. We requested that no one mention it to anyone, including on Facebook, until after we'd told everyone we wanted to.
Learnt my lesson after a friend outed my pregnancy on FB when I'd been keeping it under wraps.
I've now left FB!
YANBU. At all.
To those saying that it isnt just the parents news to share, think about this...
In PG nothing is in your control. Nothing. Even if you eschew all forms of antenatal care and have a free birth, you are still ultimately in the hands of nature. From the second you conceive, as a father or a mother, you have no control.
But you can at least be the ones who say "We have had our baby! S/He is X lbs X oz and will be called......." If someone else does that for you, without being asked to, then that is the special moment that was yours being taken away.
Is it really too much to ask to want to be the ones that announce the birth of your own child? And as for banning grandparents from seeing their new DGC for 48 hours but happily handing it over for cuddles to randoms at the school gate, words fail me!
But the poster above was arguing it wasn't the mother's news to share, that's what I was addressing.
Honestly, I think be glad people are interested! It's nice that a wider community gets involved. I think if its not your immediate family or friends just take care if posting and perhaps be a little sensitive to the fact they might like to be the announcers but as the parents, don't sweat it, people are happy for you and celebrating your little one!
I can't see why people other than the parents shouldn't post about a baby on social media - it seems quite precious to me to want to control other people's posts
Ida, the issue is other people sharing the news without asking the parents not the parents sharing.
I also disagree, it is my news, and just because the mother doesn't usually get to share it doesn't mean that's the right thing.
I didn't have a mobile in the delivery room, I had my babies in my bedroom and I had my laptop, home phone, mobile, chargers, plugs etc right next to me. Why would I not use them, in a judicious order, to share the news because it is tradition that I should be shut up in a mud hut bleeding on my own whilst the 'village' (people I hardly know) celebrate?
For us, loads of people met our second baby before the grandparents did, before any 'family' or close friends did. We wanted a few days of adjustment period so the visitors didn't come until about 48 hours after but life still needed to go on, I still needed to take older DC to school the next day, still needed to go shopping, still needed to answer the door to the postman, neighbour etc, all of whom 'met' the baby (and in some cases had a cuddle, at school gates, neighbour etc) before any family had been near.
I don't see the problem.
Oooh, I had DD 7 weeks ago. My DS's godmother, a dear, dear friend of mine has been working overseas. I sent her a photo of DD, which she then put on Facebook, tagging DH and I saying what a gorgeous new baby we had. At least I had told parents and siblings, but it would have been nice if I had been the one to put a baby photo up... There were lots of people commenting on the photo who are friends with her who've never met me or DH, it just felt that they didn't have a right too (silly I know).
I won't say anything, she's is one who almost 'over using facebook' on her travels as it's an easy way for her to keep all the friends she has in different countries updated on her news, but this wasn't her news to share.
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One summer day, they took a picnic to a grassy area near the river. Lyn was fascinated with the water and kept wanting to get into it. Mom was 8 months pregnant and was unable to move quickly. Our father and a buddy wanted to go fishing and were not planning to stay with Mom. Mom pointed out to the guys that there was a problem. Lyn needed hands-on care to be kept out of the river for her own safety.
The men contemplated the situation and came up with a solution. From the trunk, they pulled out a length of nylon parachute cord. They cut off a length of cord. One end was gently tied around Lyn's waist. The other was tied around the tree. Lyn had at least 15 feet of cord to walk around and play. Mom set the blanket at the base of the tree and settled in for the afternoon.
While they were setting up, two MP's drove by and waved. After the men went down to the river to fish, the MP's happened back by, waved again and stopped about 10 feet down the road. They threw the jeep into reverse and quickly came back.
"Ma'am, you cannot tie that child to a tree." One of the MP's called out to Mom as they hopped out of the jeep. Mom pointed out that if Lyn wasn't secured, she'd bolt for the river and Mom couldn't catch her.
As Mom was speaking to one, the other untied Lyn. The whole time, he was telling her to stay with her Mom, to not run to the river and to be a good girl. Lyn nodded her head as she always did when people spoke to her. As soon as the cord was untied, she sprinted for the river. The MP was stunned and barely caught her before she fell in.
He brought her back and went through his speech. The other MP and Mom watched as he tried again to reason with her. As soon as he let go, she was off like a shot again. Once more he caught her and brought her back. The warnings were issued a third time, more sternly this time. Lyn continued to smile and nod. He let go and had to scramble to get her before she was swept away.
This time, upon returning to the tree, he tied the cord gently back around her waist. The MP's told Mom to enjoy her afternoon and they drove off. They reported the incident to their superior officer who happened to be Mom's neighbor. He was familiar with Lyn and the family situation.
Lyn has always been attracted to the sound of running water. It was evident as a toddler and it is evident as an adult.
|The Spirit of Norfolk
|Norfolk's Waterside

subset: commoncrawl


text: Wells Fargo Securities, LLC has acted as the financial advisor to Western Digital and BofA Merrill Lynch has acted as the financial advisor to sTec in connection with this transaction.Closing of the acquisition, which is subject to customary conditions, is expected to occur in the third or fourth calendar quarter of 2013. Supplemental InformationA question and answer document related to the sTec acquisition is available on the Western Digital website at www.wdc.com or click here. The companies are not holding a conference call related to the acquisition; Western Digital will provide additional commentary on its next quarterly results conference call scheduled for Wednesday, July 24, after the close of the NASDAQ market. About Western Digital CorporationWestern Digital Corporation (NASDAQ: WDC), Irvine, Calif., is a global provider of products and services that empower people to create, manage, experience and preserve digital content. Its subsidiaries design and manufacture storage devices, networking equipment and home entertainment products under the WD ®, HGST and G-Technology brands. Visit the Investor section of the company's website ( www.westerndigital.com) to access a variety of financial and investor information. About HGSTHGST (formerly known as Hitachi Global Storage Technologies or Hitachi GST), a Western Digital company (NASDAQ: WDC), develops advanced hard disk drives, enterprise-class solid state drives, innovative external storage solutions and services used to store, preserve and manage the world's most valued data. Founded by the pioneers of hard drives, HGST provides high-value storage for a broad range of market segments, including Enterprise, Desktop, Mobile Computing, Consumer Electronics and Personal Storage. HGST was established in 2003 and maintains its U.S. headquarters in San Jose, California. For more information, please visit the company's website at http://www.hgst.com. About sTec, Inc.sTec, Inc. is a leading global provider of enterprise-class, solid-state storage solutions designed for the ever-growing performance, reliability and endurance requirements of today's advanced data centers. The industry's first company to deploy solid-state drives (SSDs) into large-scale enterprise environments, sTec offers the industry's widest range of solid-state storage solutions, which protect critical information for major business and government organizations worldwide. Headquartered in Santa Ana, California, sTec also serves the embedded and military/aerospace segments with SSDs for industrial and rugged environments. For more information, visit www.stec-inc.com. Forward Looking StatementsThis press release contains forward-looking statements within the meaning of the Private Securities Litigation Reform Act of 1995. These forward-looking statements include statements concerning benefits expected from the sTec acquisition, the expected timing of the completion of the transaction and management's anticipated plans and strategies for the sTec business. These forward-looking statements are based on management's current expectations and are subject to risks and uncertainties that could cause actual results to differ materially from those expressed or implied in the forward-looking statements, including failure to consummate or delay in consummating the transaction; the possibility that the expected benefits of the transaction may not materialize as expected; failure to successfully integrate the products, technology, research and development capabilities, infrastructure and employees of HGST and sTec; the impact of continued uncertainty and volatility in global economic conditions; actions by competitors; business conditions and growth in the various hard drive markets; and other risks and uncertainties listed in Western Digital's and sTec's filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission (the "SEC"), including Western Digital's recent Form 10-Q filed with the SEC on May 3, 2013 and sTec's recent Form 10-Q filed with the SEC on May 8, 2013, to which your attention is directed. Readers are cautioned not to place undue reliance on these forward-looking statements, which speak only as of the date hereof, and neither Western Digital nor sTec undertakes any obligation to update these forward-looking statements to reflect subsequent events or circumstances. Additional Information about the Merger and Where to Find ItIn connection with the proposed merger, sTec, Inc. will file a proxy statement with the SEC. Additionally, sTec and Western Digital Corporation will file other relevant materials in connection with the proposed acquisition of sTec. The materials to be filed by sTec with the SEC may be obtained free of charge at the SEC's website at www.sec.gov. Investors and security holders of sTec are urged to read the proxy statement and the other relevant materials when they become available before making any voting or investment decision with respect to the proposed merger because they will contain important information about the merger and the parties to the merger. sTec and its directors and executive officers may be deemed to be participants in the solicitation of proxies of sTec shareholders in connection with the proposed merger. Investors and security holders may obtain more detailed information regarding the names, affiliations and interests of certain of sTec's executive officers and directors in the solicitation by reading the proxy statement relating to the merger and other relevant materials filed with the SEC when they become available. Additional information concerning sTec's directors and executive officers, including their ownership of sTec's common stock, is set forth in sTec's 2013 annual meeting proxy statement filed with the SEC on June 7, 2013 and will also be set forth in the proxy statement relating to the merger when it becomes available. Western Digital, WD, HGST and the WD and HGST logos are registered trademarks in the U.S. and other countries. sTec and the sTec logo are either registered trademarks or trademarks of sTec, Inc. in the U.S. and certain other countries. Other marks may be mentioned herein that belong to other companies. (Logo: http://photos.prnewswire.com/prnh/20000711/WDCLOGO) SOURCE Western Digital Corp.


text:
Chicago • Sprouts Farmers Market Inc., one of Whole Foods Market Inc.'s fastest-growing competitors, is undercutting the prices of its larger rival by about 13 percent, according to analysis by Bloomberg Industries.
A basket of 148 brand-name items, including Kashi cereal, Talenti gelato and Applegate deli turkey, is $691.92 at Sprouts and $780.64 at Whole Foods, according to a study led by Jennifer Bartashus, a Bloomberg Industries analyst in Skillman, New Jersey. The difference stems largely from Sprouts' use of promotional discounts - something Whole Foods generally shies away from. If sale prices are excluded, Sprouts is only about 2 percent cheaper than Whole Foods.


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loose lips sink ships as the posters used to say
This is a discussion on Add Red Lobster to the list within the Concealed Carry Issues & Discussions forums, part of the Defensive Carry Discussions category; Never seen it on Red Lobster's doors in Louisville Ky either....
Never seen it on Red Lobster's doors in Louisville Ky either.
Sarge 80 1976-1981 US Air Force
loose lips sink ships as the posters used to say
The RL around here doesn't have any signs posted.
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable- JFK
I was just at the one where I live two weeks ago. No sign was posted there.
i carry anyway. Concealed is concealed.
There are plenty other locally owned steak/seafood places around that are cheaper anyway.
Were there metal detectors? If not, go in and enjoy your meal.
CANT: Carry Always, Never Tell
Cogito, ergo armatum sum. I think, therefore I am armed. (Don Mann, The Modern Day Gunslinger; the ultimate handgun training manual)
I would consider writing a letter to the corporate office.
Darden Resturants:
PO Box 695011
Orlando, FL 32869-5011
From my understanding, none of Darden's brands (Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Longhorn Steakhouse, The Capital Grille, Bahama Breeze, Seasons 52, Eddie V's) are franchises and are all corporate controlled. It's very possible the store manager has an agenda and Darden may want to hear about it.......especially since none of their other stores are usually posted. I own stock in this company and will be letting them know my opinion. Could you provide me with store info and store manager's name via PM?
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
― Albert Einstein


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Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Wanting more than what God wants you to have ...
There's a broad passing about of a platitude stating that you'll never have more than God wants you to have, but that's simply not true. The story of human history is resplendent of humanity pursuing more than what God wanted them to have.
The first man and woman had one fruit too many.
Consider the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-24). The father had provided a nice life for his son, but his son wanted more. He desired more than what the father provided. He wanted to indulge in other things his father wasn't willing to provide.
Consider the story of the rich young man (Luke 18:18-23). His problem was that he had a lot of stuff he didn't need. Stuff that got in the way of his following Jesus. He had too much because he wasn't willing to part with what he had to have so much more in Christ.
And how do people behave when we actually use what we have for Christ? Consider the story of the woman anointing the feet of Jesus with expensive perfume (Matthew 26:6-13). The disciples had a near apoplectic fit that something so costly was used in such a manner!
But Jesus didn't consider the action of the woman to be a waste.
Most of us live a life of desire. We want. At least a little more than what we have now. But you cannot follow Jesus with that attitude.
"24 Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. 25 If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. 26 And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul?'" Matthew 16:24-26.
If you have more than the most basic of needs, you have excess. Satisfied? Or is there something more you know you want?
Could it be you have too much? That you're holding on to things, desires, or wants that might be getting in the way of your followership of Jesus?
Can you join the Apostle Paul in saying ...
"7 I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. 8 Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ 9 and become one with him. I no longer count on my own righteousness through obeying the law; rather, I become righteous through faith in Christ. For God's way of making us right with himself depends on faith. 10 I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, 11 so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!" Philippians 3:7-11.
Labels: Followership, Values
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Our Cyber cinema feature - a regular trawl through some of the excellent short films out there on the web - frequently turns up a gem. (My all-time favourite, since you ask, was this one).
But it rarely throws up anything quite as shocking in its simplicity as this breathtaking little movie. It's a soundtrack of comments by rightwing US shock jock Michael Savage to the effect that the Indian Ocean tsunami was "no tragedy" and that he "doesn't want a cent of his money going to these people".
The film-makers then simply play that soundtrack over a series of images of the devastation and its victims. Uncomplicated, and unavoidably manipulative, but very effective.


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QPR boss Harry Redknapp refused to accept that his side were set up negatively against Wigan in the first leg of their play-off semi-final.
Rangers frustrated their hosts, who dominated possession but couldn't unlock a sturdy backline in the 0-0 draw at the DW Stadium. And Latics boss Uwe Rosler suggested after the game that QPR had 'come for a draw'.
Redknapp, however, pointed to his offensive starting XI, which included the likes of Ravel Morrison, Charlie Austin and Junior Hoilett.
But their only real spell of pressure came at the start of the second half, when Armand Traore forced Scott Carson into a good save.
Redknapp said: "I didn't pick a defensive-minded team, I picked a very open team.
"When I picked the team three or four days ago I don't think I had a lot of supporters on my staff. I think they all felt we should be a little bit more defensive minded.
"But, having said that, there were very few chances in the game. I thought we could come here and hit them on the counter-attack with a bit of pace and ability.
"It was an even game, there was nothing in it really."
One thing the game was not short of was tough tackling, and Clint Hill appeared lucky to get away with an early elbow on Rob Kiernan that was missed by almost everybody in the ground.
Rosler said: "I have not seen it, but I got told the player admitted he caught our player."
Hoilett also felt he was elbowed by Gary Caldwell, while James McArthur and Callum McManaman might both have been booked before referee Mike Jones reached for his pocket.
Redknapp said: "I think he was looking to keep all the players on the pitch.
"They're big games in players' careers. There's a tie at Wembley for the winners and there's a chance of getting in the Premier League. There's a lot to play for.
"You expect people to be committed. If they're not going to be committed tonight, they never are."
- More about:
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- Wigan Athletic


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Whitehorse Chevaliers Fencing ClubSports Fencing Classes & Lessons
16-20 Silver Grove, Nunawading, VIC
This business can travel to you.
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text:
yes is the short answer someone will come by with the long one
This is a discussion on Dumb shotgun question within the Defensive Rifles & Shotgun Discussion forums, part of the Related Topics category; Is it safe to shoot buckshot through a rifled deer barrel?...
Is it safe to shoot buckshot through a rifled deer barrel?
yes is the short answer someone will come by with the long one
Safe? Yes, I suppose it is safe, it wont destroy you or the shotgun, BUT:
The barrel will lead up badly.
The shot is "swirled" around as it moves down the barrel, and when it exits, it tends to spread out in a circular pattern with a large hole in the middle.
Rifled shotgun barrels are specifically intended for shooting sabot slugs and nothing else.
If you shoot standard slugs or shot in it, it isn't going to blow up, but it isn't intended for standard shotgun projectiles, won't work very well with them, and will lead up BADLY, trust me.
Fear No Evil.
See i told ya someone would be along with the long answer and also someone who had done it ..
How is it going to lead up since they are shot with a plastic sleeve ?
We do it all the time with double ought buck and slugs in training. I've seen plastic residue in the barrels from the sleeves, but never any leading.
Universal Background Checks...the next step towards registration and confiscation.
AR. CHL Instr. 07/02 FFL
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I don't think slugs and shot are shot with a plastic sleeve, only the sabot rounds.Originally Posted by HotGuns
There may be a plastic wad with the shot, but that only surrounds the bottom of the shot to ensure all the energy of the gas doesn't escape past the shot. The sides of the shot column have no plastic.
Conversely, how about shooting slug/sabot through a smooth-bore shotgun?
Not a shotgun person, but I think slugs are fine, though I think some oversized bores are unsuitable for slugs, as well as maybe some shotguns with really tight chokes. I believe slugs are best through a 'cylinder bore' choke.Originally Posted by SIGguy229
Sabots would be pointless in a smooth bore shotgun as they would get no spin. That would mean that the round would be pretty unstable leaving the barrel, so probably a bad idea.
It wouldnt be a good thing for your health or for the condition of the shotgun to shoot a sabot down a tight choked shotgun....it might not go wrong the first time..but at some point it isnt going to work, and why do it when theyre designed for use with rifling.
The reason it leads up badly is because the plastic wad used in shotshells is desgned to move down a smooth tube, "cupping" the shot.
In a rifled barrel, this "sleeve" is slowed down further by the rifling, and expells the shot from the sleeve early, forcing the shot into contact with the sharp grooves of the rifling. Combine soft lead balls with sharp rifling..and you get a good deal of leading, just ask a blackpowder shooter.
Fear No Evil.


text: I am considering getting a Seiko watch that is black ion plated. The watch costs £140. I'm also considering a Timex Expedition at £125, also black ion plated. I know nothing about watches but I'm told that this plating wears off very quickly. Is this true? Does price come into it? How long ,if worn most days, would it take for the watch to look shabby? Also, is there something you can coat the watch with to prevent it coming off? Or can you get them re-coated at all? Any help appreciated. Thanks.


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Written by Steve Niles
Art by David Wachter
In the third and final issue of the captivating miniseries, the Golem finally rises. The story of how Noah and the Golem faced the attacking Nazi monsters is oddly captivating because its so ingenious, but never simple. Steve Niles takes us through a story that circles around perfectly and is exactly as long as it needs to be.
The art by David Wachter is dynamic and honest. His work in this series is more evidence that you don't need color to tell a beautiful story. The fight between Nazi and the mud monster is enormous and terrifying, but also graceful. It's war, but the art never strays from a story that's ultimately optimistic about the possibilities inside each of us.
The face-off between Noah and the Nazi commander is a perfect example of everything the comic does well.
The first panel does away with borders – the meeting is intimate, but massive. The second panel showcases one of the highlights of Wachter's art, the weight of Noah's facial expression. His eyes in particular are used to great effect throughout the comic as Noah's main form of communication. They are intense and benevolent in a way the is always natural. He grips the figure of the Golem just as he holds on to goodness. The Nazi's face is covered. He is not an individual, but a cog in an evil machine and a representation of the monstrosity in mankind. The rest of the battle is almost poetic. The Golem does what he must to protect the town, but he takes no joy in it.
What makes this comic great is that it's not about a boy who has the power to create a monster that fights for him. It's about loss of innocence and facing the inexorable tide of death. It's about the monstrous evil that can manifest from humanity and the monsters we use to fight back. And it's about how "Good must be found within us all," and the faith and strength we must have to mold it.
Score: 9.5/10


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Welcome Home, and thank you for visiting VFW Post 9295, George E. Hayward. We would like to welcome all members, and their guests to stop and visit during all reguar hours of operation and stated events. We are your Mentor veterans connection.
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Your Dog, Your Life
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Boy I will tell ya the kids were up early this morning. I had paper being thrown at my head, I was buried in it for a little bit. Then mom and dad gave Demon and I socks (which we wanted to eat more than what was inside) with a ton of treats in them.
We went over and spent the whole day with my grandma who spoils us rotten. She has a husky too. Her name is Matikka. She is a mean bossy husky.
She had this rag tied around her neck so when she got mean with me one time my son (demon) decided that he should try to pull her by it. I was so proud of him. Daddy's BOY!
ok, so this morning I made a new discovery. I was lying in bed with mom and all of a sudden there were all these dogs running around on this box thingie. I decided I wanted to play with them so I ran up to the box thing and started barking at them and whining because they wouldn't play back. I thought my mom was going to fall out of the bed because she was laughing so hard at me. By the way Demon is starting to make me very jealous. He keeps getting on my moms lap so I come up and get on her lap too. She was mine first!!!!!
Ok, so my mom was rubbing my head today and I felt some really bad pain so mom looked in my ear and I have an ear infection. She fixed me right up but I suspect she is going to be taking me for a car ride to a place that I don't particularly like to go.
By the end of the week all my kids will be gone. I don't think Demon is going though. Mom keeps telling me that we are getting another puppy.
I really don't know how I feel about that...my ear hurts too bad to think about it. However, I hear it is a girl :) I will finally have a sister.
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Looking for a 2D isometric (I mean 2.5D I guess) mmorpg game that has a playerbase.
I enjoyed an indie game called Linkrealms for a short bit, for the games features but it feels really empty as the game is pretty much dead.
Games in this genre I tried:
-Eudemons(lagged A LOT on my system as it had high texture 3D models)
-ConquerOnline(lagged a bit on my system)
-ZeroOnline(like the mech style but got boring, also playerbase was mainly foreign from what I remember)
-Linkrealms(no playerbase)
-Ragnarok Online(loved this game but the fact you have to pay for 3rd class turned me off instantly)
That is all I have tried I can think of. Any suggestions?


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May 2013 ▪ Margaret K. McElderry Books / Simon & Schuster ▪ Ages 5 - 9
But they are in middle school now. Zach's father pushes him to give up make-believe, and Zach quits the game. Their friendship might be over, until Poppy declares she's been having dreams about the Queen—and the ghost of a girl who will not rest until the bone-china doll is buried in her empty grave.
Zach and Alice and Poppy set off on one last adventure to lay the Queen's ghost to rest. But nothing goes according to plan, and as their adventure turns into an epic journey, creepy things begin to happen. Is the doll just a doll or something more sinister? And if there really is a ghost, will it let them go now that it has them in its clutches?
BEHIND THE BOOK: Holly Black shares this behind-the-scenes info (really interesting story -- worth the read!): "DOLL BONES is the book that I've been trying to write for a long time. It's about a lot of things that are really personal to me—and it's also about a lot of things that creep me out. I did two kinds of research for this book. The first kind of research was trying to get back at my own life when I was twelve. I was the kid who played dolls for way too long and didn't want to give them up, even after my two best friends got more into music and boys. What I remember most viscerally is grieving over the lost dolls, the ones my friends played with who would never visit again. I still had my friends — and we had lots of new adventures ahead of us — but those people that they pretended to be would never come back. In talking about this book, I've been surprised at how many people have a story like mine, a story about being a kid who loved storytelling with friends and who hadn't wanted to stop. About the moment we were shamed into quitting the game and dragged kicking and screaming into adulthood. A lot of those people grew up to be writers.
The second kind of research I did was about the creepy part—about bone china manufacturing. I knew that I wanted the doll that the three kids have, the one that might be haunted, the one that they have to bury, to be made from bone china. I wanted that because bone china is made with ground-up bones— in the case of this doll, human bones. (Note: the bone char in actual bone china is cow. I am almost entirely sure that no one ever made bone china plates or bowls or coffee pots with human bone char.) There are only a couple of places in the US that ever manufactured true bone china. Which is how I wound up going on an adventure to East Liverpool, Ohio, a town famous for its pottery and about which I knew absolutely nothing else. I had one weekend, so I headed down to New Jersey, picked up my critique partner, Steve Berman, and we drove through the night to make it to a small hotel across the border in West Virginia. It was about four in the morning when we turned off the highway. Mist was rising off the woodlands around us as we drove through a series of wildly curving roads. We spotted a fence that appeared to be from the zombie apocalypse—too high to be keeping out only cattle, rusted, and ripped unsettlingly. At that moment, we turned a sharp corner in the road and saw the remains of an old building spray-painted with graffiti of dripping red symbols. This was the first time Steve turned to me and said, "turn this car around immediately." It would not be the last. Now, look. I know what you're thinking: that's not so scary. Well, imagine the scene without a single streetlight, illuminated entirely by the headlights of my car, and with no houses for miles. It was pretty scary to us. So scary that Steve and I stopped talking entirely and just stared out the windows, waiting for a ghostly hitchhiker or headless horseman.
We did finally make it to the hotel, which was brightly lit and perfectly ordinary. We checked into our rooms, laughed at ourselves for being scared, and slept until our alarms woke us. Then it was Saturday and time to go into town. I set my trusty GPS to the address for the Museum of Ceramics. As we crossed over the tiny, skinny bridge into East Liverpool, I realized I had no idea what to expect. The Museum turned out to be near the center of town, across the street from a gorgeous library, on a wide street full of shops and restaurants. There was only one problem— despite it being a beautiful Saturday morning in the Spring, almost every shop was closed. A small café stood open on one end of the road and several blocks over, a place called Pants Unlimited was having a going-out-of-business sale. (And yes, Pants Unlimited made it into the book—how could I have left a detail like that out?) A few cars were parked on the street, but there were no people anywhere. Ignoring that, we headed straight for our goal, The Museum of Ceramics. And lo, it was awesome! Within were beautiful examples of pottery crafted in East Liverpool from 1840 to 1930 and explanations of the processes, as well as the rise and decline of the pottery industry. We watched a short film and I took lots of notes. There was even another person there — or at least sometimes there were footsteps, and once I thought I heard someone's voice. So, another person, or a haunted museum. On our way out, the nice woman at the desk asked us why we'd come to East Liverpool. "Oh," said Steve, "to visit this museum."
Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer. She stared at us as though we were dangerous lunatics. There were several spots I wanted to visit: the kids, carrying their creepy bone doll, try to make the journey by bus (it does not go well) and must attempt to bury the doll in a cemetery (surprisingly, the cemetery goes better than the bus stop). I thought visiting a few local spots would be a simple process, but alas, we were led astray. No, I mean we were literally led astray. The GPS kept malfunctioning, trying to take us off cliffs and into bogs. 'Turn this car around, Holly!' Steve kept chanting. It became our musical accompaniment, varied with different lyrics: ''Do you think the car is possessed and trying to kill us, Holly?'' and "Didn't we almost go over this very cliff ten minutes ago, Holly?" (Now that he mentioned it, that cliff did look familiar.) Eventually we made it to the place where the bus stop was supposed to be. I had the street names, and the exact intersection. We got out of the car and walked around and around. The Internet had sworn to me there was a bus stop there. Surely the Internet wouldn't lie to me. "Let's go into this bar," Steve said. "Oh, good idea, let's ask for directions," I said. "Sure . . . that's what I meant," said Steve. Raucous laughter spilled out of the bar. Several people who lived nearby seemed deeply amused by the thought that there might be, or ever have been, public transportation available nearby. They seemed to feel that I was making a hilarious joke. I couldn't believe that my twelve-year-old characters turned out to actually be better at bus travel than I was. At least they were able to locate a bus stop. We did actually make it to the cemetery. It existed. It was a perfectly ordinary cemetery, which at this point I found soothing—until we were leaving, when I noticed there were spigots that came out of the ground. They were drive-up spigots, as in we could literally drive up and serve ourselves a cup of water from one. I did not do this, because I (a) don't travel with a water bottle to fill, (b) never drink water, even though I know I should, (c) thought that grave water might possess the bad kind of magic that turns you into a zombie, and (d) because Steve told me not to. In no way do I mean to imply that East Liverpool was anything but a great place. There was a lot of driving involved for me: I was delirious pretty much throughout. Everybody was lovely to me, possibly because I looked like an escaped lunatic who had somehow got hold of a notebook.
I went to this place hoping to find stories, and I did: the last piece of my story was born there in the mist, the quiet museum of bones, the apparently imaginary bus stop, and, most of all, in the experience of trying to navigate unfamiliar (and sometimes scary) place with a friend. I found what I needed for DOLL BONES and, also, unlimited pants. I'm glad I went to East Liverpool. And, Steve, thanks for coming with me."
"A little bit scary and full of heart, this story grabbed me and wouldn't let go."
- Rebecca Stead, Newbery Award winning author of WHEN YOU REACH ME
"Doll Bones positions itself to look like a simple ghost tale about a creepy doll, then sneaks in an engaging, thoughtful look at the ramifications of adolescence and storytelling. Consider this the thinking child's horror novel. A devilishly clever read from an author too long gone from the children's book genre."
-- Elizabeth Bird, A Fuse #8 Production, SLJ blog


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This is today's FREE DOWNLOADABLE DESKTOP WALLPAPER, custom printed by Kate especially for us! Visit HERE to download!
Today is a good day to visit the Guest Blog because the GREEN guest blog masthead finally matches Kate's selected colour of the day – also GREEN!
AND you can still be in the running to win one of her original prints if you comment on any of her posts! :) She is so so freaking funny… I really think you need to head over and read about her affection for cricket whites and men's legs, and why her family is eating cucumbers at every meal this Summer.


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"A high-pitch of excitement."—The Wall Street Journal
"Ambitious, daring…as spectacular as any thriller ever."—Minneapolis Star Tribune
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Jack Ryan fights to protect his family from terrorists in the electrifying #1 New York Times bestselling thriller.
From Tom Clancy,master of the international thriller, comes a gripping story of the Ryan family under fire. In an explosive wave of violence, an ultra-left-wing faction of the IRA is hunting one man for his act of salvation in an/b>/i>
Jack Ryan fights to protect his family from terrorists in the electrifying #1 New York Times bestselling thriller.
From Tom Clancy,master of the international thriller, comes a gripping story of the Ryan family under fire. In an explosive wave of violence, an ultra-left-wing faction of the IRA is hunting one man for his act of salvation in an attempted assassination. And now Jack Ryan must pay…with his life.
"A high-pitch of excitement."—The Wall Street Journal
"Ambitious, daring…as spectacular as any thriller ever."—Minneapolis Star Tribune
A Sunny Day in Londontown
Ryan was nearly killed twice in half an hour. He left the taxi a few blocks short of his destination. It was a fine, clear day, the sun already low in the blue sky. Ryan had been sitting for hours in a series of straight-back wooden chairs, and he wanted to walk a bit to work the kinks out. Traffic was relatively light on the streets and sidewalks. That surprised him, but he looked forward to the evening rush hour. Clearly these streets had not been laid out with automobiles in mind, and he was sure that the afternoon chaos would be something to behold. Jack's first impression of London was that it would be a fine town to walk in, and he moved at his usual brisk pace, unchanged since his stint in the Marine Corps, marking time unconsciously by tapping the edge of his clipboard against his leg.
Just short of the corner the traffic disappeared, and he moved to cross the street early. He automatically looked left, right, then left again as he had since childhood, and stepped off the curb
And was nearly crushed by a two-story red bus that screeched past him with a bare two feet to spare.
"Excuse me, sir." Ryan turned to see a police officer they called them constables over here, he reminded himself in uniform complete to the Mack Sennett hat. "Please do be careful and cross at the corners. You might also mind the painted signs on the pavement to look right or left. We try not to lose too many tourists to the traffic."
"How do you know I'm a tourist?" He would now, from Ryan's accent.
The cop smiled patiently. "Because you looked the wrong way, sir, and you dress like an American. Please be careful, sir. Good day." The bobby moved off with a friendly nod, leaving Ryan to wonder what there was about his brand-new three-piece suit that marked him as an American.
Chastened, he walked to the corner. Painted lettering on the blacktop warned him to look right, along with an arrow for the dyslexic. He waited for the light to change, and was careful to stay within the painted lines. Jack remembered that he'd have to pay close attention to the traffic, especially when he rented the car Friday. England was one of the last places in the world where the people drove on the wrong side of the road. He was sure it would take some getting used to.
But they did everything else well enough, he thought comfortably, already drawing universal observations one day into his first trip to Britain. Ryan was a practiced observer, and one can draw many conclusions from a few glances. He was walking in a business and professional district. The other people on the sidewalk were better dressed than their American counterparts would be aside from the punkers with their spiked orange and purple hair, he thought. The architecture here was a hodgepodge ranging from Octavian Augustus to Mies van der Rohe, but most of the buildings had an old, comfortable look that in Washington or Baltimore would long since have been replaced with an unbroken row of new and soulless glass boxes. Both aspects of the town dovetailed nicely with the good manners he'd encountered so far. It was a working vacation for Ryan, but first impressions told him that it would be a very pleasant one nonetheless.
There were a few jarring notes. Many people seemed to be carrying umbrellas. Ryan had been careful to check the day's weather forecast before setting out on his research trip. A fair day had been accurately predicted in fact it had been called a hot day, though temperatures were only in the upper sixties. A warm day for this time of year, to be sure, but "hot"? Jack wondered if they called it Indian summer here. Probably not. Why the umbrellas, though? Didn't people trust the local weather service? Was that how the cop knew I was an American?
Another thing he ought to have anticipated was the plethora of Rolls-Royces on the streets. He hadn't seen more than a handful in his entire life, and while the streets were not exactly crowded with them, there were quite a few. He himself usually drove around in a five-year-old VW Rabbit. Ryan stopped at a newsstand to purchase a copy of The Economist, and had to fumble with the change from his cab fare for several seconds in order to pay the patient dealer, who doubtless also had him pegged for a Yank. He paged through the magazine instead of watching where he was going as he went down the street, and presently found himself halfway down the wrong block. Ryan stopped dead and thought back to the city map he'd inspected before leaving the hotel. One thing Jack could not do was remember streets names, but he had a photographic memory for maps. He walked to the end of the block, turned left, proceeded two blocks, then right, and sure enough there was St. James's Park. Ryan checked his watch; he was fifteen minutes early. It was downhill past the monument to a Duke of York, and he crossed the street near a longish classical building of white marble.
Yet another pleasant thing about London was the profusion of green spaces. The park looked big enough, and he could see that the grass was tended with care. The whole autumn must have been unseasonably warm. The trees still bore plenty of leaves. Not many people around, though. Well, he shrugged, it's Wednesday. Middle of the week, the kids were all in school, and it was a normal business day. So much the better, he thought. He'd deliberately come over after the tourist season. Ryan did not like crowds. The Marine Corps had taught him that, too.
"Daddee!" Ryan's head snapped around to see his little daughter running toward him from behind a tree, heedless as usual of her safety. Sally arrived with her customary thump against her tall father. Also as usual, Cathy Ryan trailed behind, never quite able to keep up with their little white tornado. Jack's wife did look like a tourist. Her Canon 35mm camera was draped over one shoulder, along with the camera case that doubled as an oversized purse when they were on vacation.
"How'd it go, Jack?"
Ryan kissed his wife. Maybe the Brits don't do that in public either, he thought. "Great, babe. They treated me like I owned the place. Got all my notes tucked away." He tapped his clipboard. "Didn't you get anything?" Cathy laughed.
"The shops here deliver." She smiled in a way that told him she'd parted with a fairish bit of the money they had allocated for shopping. "And we got something really nice for Sally."
"Oh?" Jack bent over to look his daughter in the eye. "And what might that be?"
"It's a surprise, Daddy." The little girl twisted and giggled like a true four-year-old. She pointed to the park. "Daddy, they got a lake with swans and peccalins!"
"Pelicans," Jack corrected.
"Big white ones!" Sally loved peccalins.
"Uh-huh," Ryan observed. He looked up to his wife. "Get any good pictures?"
Cathy patted her camera. "Oh, sure. London is already Canonized or would you prefer that we spent the whole day shopping?" Photography was Cathy Ryan's only hobby, and she was good at it.
"Ha!" Ryan looked down the street. The pavement here was reddish, not black, and the road was lined with what looked like beech trees. The Mall, wasn't it? He couldn't remember, and would not ask his wife, who'd been to London many times. The Palace was larger than he'd expected, but it seemed a dour building, three hundred yards away, hidden behind a marble monument of some sort. Traffic was a little thicker here, but moved briskly. "What do we do for dinner?"
"Catch a cab back to the hotel?" She looked at her watch. "Or we can walk."
"They're supposed to have a good dining room. Still early, though. These civilized places make you wait until eight or nine." He saw another Rolls go by in the direction of the Palace. He was looking forward to dinner, though not really to having Sally there. Four-year-olds and four-star restaurants didn't go well together. Brakes squealed off to his left. He wondered if the hotel had a baby-sitting
Ryan jumped at the sound of an explosion not thirty yards away. Grenade, something in his mind reported. he sensed the whispering sound of fragments in the air and moments later heard the chatter of automatic weapons fire. He spun around to see the Rolls turned crooked in the street. The front end seemed lower than it should be, and its path was blocked by a black sedan. There was a man standing at its right front fender, firing an AK-47 rifle into the front end, and another man was racing around to the car's left rear.
"Get down!" Ryan grabbed his daughter's shoulder and forced her to the ground behind a tree, yanking his wife roughly down beside her. A dozen cars were stopped raggedly behind the Rolls, none closer than fifty feet, and they shielded his family from the line of fire. Traffic on the far side was blocked by the sedan. The man with the Kalashnikov was spraying the Rolls for all he was worth.
"Sonuvabitch!" Ryan kept his head up, scarcely able to believe what he saw. "It's the goddamned IRA they're killing somebody right " Ryan moved slightly to his left. His peripheral vision took in the faces of people up and down the street, turning and staring, in each face the black circle of a shock-opened mouth. This is really happening! he thought, right in front of me, just like that, just like some Chicago gangster movie. Two bastards are committing murder. Right here. Right now. Just like that. "Son of a bitch!"
Ryan moved farther left, screened by a stopped car. Covered by its front fender, he could see one man standing at the left rear of the Rolls, just standing there, his pistol hand extended as though expecting someone to bolt from the passenger door. The bulk of the Rolls screened Ryan from the AK gunner, who was crouched down to control his weapon. The near gunman had his back to Ryan. He was no more than fifty feet away. He didn't move, concentrating on the passenger door. His back was still turned. Ryan would never remember making any conscious decision.
He moved quickly around the stopped car, head down, keeping low and accelerating rapidly, his eyes locked on his target the small of the man's back just as he'd been taught in high school football. It took only a few seconds to cover the distance, with Ryan's mind reaching out, willing the man to stay dumb just a moment longer. At five feet Ryan lowered his shoulder and drove off both legs. His coach would have been proud.
The blind-side tackle caught the gunman perfectly. His back bent like a bow and Ryan heard bones snap as his victim pitched forward and down. A satisfying klonk told him that the man's head had bounced off the bumper on the way to the pavement. Ryan got up instantly winded but full of adrenaline and crouched beside the body. The man's pistol had dropped from his hand and lay beside the body. Ryan grabbed it. It was an automatic of some sort he had never handled. It looked like a 9mm Makarov or some other East Bloc military issue. The hammer was back and the safety off. He fitted the gun carefully in his right hand his left hand didn't seem to be working right, but Ryan ignored that. He looked down at the man he'd just tackled and shot him once in the hip. Then he brought the gun up to eye level and moved to the right rear corner of the Rolls. He crouched lower still and peeked around the edge of the bodywork.
The other gunman's AK was lying on the street and he was firing into the car with his own pistol, something else in his other hand. Ryan took a deep breath and stepped from behind the Rolls, leveling his automatic at the man's chest. The other gunman turned his head first, then swiveled off-balance to bring his own gun around. Both men fired at the same instant. Ryan felt a fiery thump in his left shoulder and saw his own round take the man in the chest. The 9mm slug knocked the man backward as though from a hard punch. Ryan brought his own pistol down from recoil and squeezed off another round. The second bullet caught the man under the chin and exploded out the back of his head in a wet, pink cloud. Like a puppet with severed strings, the gunman fell to the pavement without a twitch. Ryan kept his pistol centered on the man's chest until he saw what had happened to his head.
"Oh, God!" the surge of adrenaline left him as quickly as it had come. Time slowed back down to normal, and Ryan found himself suddenly dizzy and breathless. His mouth was open and gasping for air. Whatever force had been holding his body erect seemed to disappear, leaving his frame weak, on the verge of collapse. The black sedan backed up a few yards and accelerated past him, racing down the street, then turning left up a side street. Ryan didn't think to take the number. He was stunned by the flashing sequence of events with which his mind had still not caught up.
The one he'd shot twice was clearly dead, his eyes open and surprised at fate, a foot-wide pool of blood spreading back from his head. Ryan was chilled to see a grenade in his gloved left hand. He bent down to ensure that the cotter pin was still in place on the wooden stick handle, and it was a slow, painful process to straighten up. Next he looked to the Rolls.
The first grenade had torn the front end to shreds. The front wheels were askew, and the tires flat on the blacktop. The driver was dead. Another body was slumped over in the front seat. The thick windshield had been blasted to fragments. The driver's face was gone, a red spongy mass. There was a red smear on the glass partition separating the driver's seat from the passenger compartment. Jack moved around the car and looked in the back. He saw a man lying prone on the floor and under him the corner of a woman's dress. He tapped the pistol butt against the glass. The man stirred for a moment, then froze. At least he was alive.
Ryan looked at his pistol. It was empty, the slide locked back on a dry clip. His breath was coming in shudders now. His legs were wobbling under him and his hands were beginning to shake convulsively, which gave his wounded shoulder brief, sharp waves of intense pain. He looked around and saw something make him forget that . . .
A soldier was running toward him, with a police officer a few yards behind. One of the Palace guards, Jack thought. The man has lost his bearskin shako but still had an automatic rifle with a half-foot of steel bayonet perched on the muzzle. Ryan quickly wondered if the rifle might be loaded and decided it might be expensive to find out. This was a guardsman, he told himself, a professional soldier from a crack regiment who'd had to prove he had real balls before they sent him to the finishing school that made windup toys for tourists to gawk at. Maybe as good as a Sea Marine. How did you get here so fast?
Slowly and carefully, Ryan held the pistol out at arm's length. He thumbed the clip-release button, and the magazine clattered down to the street. Next he twisted the gun so that the soldier could see it was empty. Then he set it down on the pavement and stepped away from it. He tried to raise his hands, but the left one wouldn't move. The guardsman all the time ran smart, head up, eyes tracing left and right but never leaving Ryan entirely. He stopped ten feet away with his rifle at low-guard, its bayonet pointed right at Jack's throat, just like it said in the manual. His chest was heaving, but the soldier's face was a blank mask. The policeman hadn't caught up, his face bloody as he shouted into a small radio.
"At ease, Trooper," Ryan said as firmly as he could. It was not impressive. "We got two bad guys down. I'm one of the good guys."
The guardsman's face didn't change a whit. The boy was a pro, all right. Ryan could hear his thinking how easy to stick the bayonet right out his target's back. Jack was in no shape to avoid that first thrust.
"DaddeeDaddeeDaddee!" Ryan turned his head and saw his little girl racing past the stalled cars toward him. The four-year-old stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes wide with horror. She ran forward to wrap both arms around her father's leg and screamed up at the guardsman: "Don't you hurt my daddy!"
The soldier looked from father to daughter in amazement as Cathy approached more carefully, hands in the open.
"Soldier," she announced in her voice of professional command, "I'm a doctor, and I'm going to treat that wound. So you can put that gun down, right now!"
The police constable grabbed the guardsman's shoulder and said something Jack couldn't make out. The rifle's angle changed fractionally as the soldier relaxed ever so slightly. Ryan saw more cops running to the scene, and a white car with its siren screaming. The situation, whatever it was, was coming under control.
"You lunatic." Cathy surveyed the wound dispassionately. There was a dark stain on the shoulder of Ryan's new suit jacket that turned the gray wool to purple-crimson. His whole body was shaking now. He could barely stand and the weight of Sally hanging on his leg was forcing him to weave. Cathy grabbed his right arm and eased him down to the pavement, sitting him back against the side of the car. She moved his coat away from the wound and probed gently at his shoulder. It didn't feel gentle at all. She reached around to his back pocket for a handkerchief and pressed it against the center of the wound.
"That doesn't feel right," she remarked to no one.
"Daddy, you're all bloody!" Sally stood an arm's length away, her hands fluttering like the wings of a baby bird. Jack wanted to reach out to her, to tell her everything was all right, but the three feet of distance might as well have been a thousand miles and his shoulder was telling him that things were definitely not all right.
There were now about ten police officers around the car, many of them panting for breath. Three had handguns out, and were scanning the gathering crowd. Two more red-coated soldiers appeared from the west. A police sergeant approached. Before he could say anything Cathy looked up to bark an order.
"Call an ambulance right now!"
"On the way, mum," the Sergeant replied with surprising good manners. "Why don't you let us look after that?"
"I'm a doctor," she answered curtly. "You have a knife?"
The Sergeant turned to remove the bayonet from the first guardsman's rifle and stooped down to assist. Cathy held the coat and vest clear for him to cut away, then both cut the shirt free from his shoulder. She tossed the handkerchief clear. It was already blood-sodden. Jack started to protest.
"Shut up, Jack." She looked over to the Sergeant and jerked her chin toward Sally. "Get her away from here."
The Sergeant gestured for a guardsman to come over. The Private scooped Sally up in his arms. He took her a few feet away, cradling her gently to his chest. Jack saw his little girl crying pitifully, but somehow it all seemed to be very far away. He felt his skin go cold and moist shock?
"Damn," Cathy said gruffly. The Sergeant handed her a thick bandage. She pressed it against the wound and it immediately went red as she tried to tie it in place. Ryan groaned. It felt as though someone had taken an ax to his shoulder.
"Jack, what the hell were you trying to do?" she demanded through clenched teeth as she fumbled with the cloth ties.
Ryan snarled back, the sudden anger helping to block out the pain. "I didn't try I fucking did it!" The effort required to say that took half his strength away with it.
"Uh-huh," Cathy grunted. "Well, you're bleeding like a pig, Jack."
More men ran in from the other direction. It seemed that a hundred sirens were converging on the scene with men some in uniform, some not leaping out to join the party. A uniformed policeman with more ornate shoulder boards began to shout orders at the others. The scene was impressive. A separate, detached part of Ryan's brain catalogued it. There he was, sitting against the Rolls, his shirt soaked red as though blood had been poured from a pitcher. Cathy, her hands covered with her husband's blood, was still trying to arrange the bandage correctly. His daughter was gasping out tears in the arms of a burly young soldier who seemed to be singing to her in a language that Jack couldn't make out. Sally's eyes were locked on him, full of desperate anguish. The detached part of his mind found all this very amusing until another wave of pain yanked him back to reality.
The policeman who'd evidently taken charge came up to them after first checking the perimeter. "Sergeant, move him aside."
Cathy looked up and snapped angrily: "Open the other side, dammit, I got a bleeder here!"
"The other door's jammed, ma'am. Let me help." Ryan heard a different kind of siren as they bent down. The three of them moved him aside a foot or so, and the senior officer made to open the car door. They hadn't moved him far enough. When the door swung open, its edge caught Ryan's shoulder. The last thing he heard before passing out was his own scream of pain.
Ryan's eyes focused slowly, his consciousness a hazy, thing that reported items out of place and out of time. For a moment he was inside a vehicle of some sort. The lateral movements of its passage rippled agony through his chest, and there was an awful atonal sound in the distance, though not all that far away. He thought he saw two faces he vaguely recognized. Cathy was there, too, wasn't she no, there were some people in green. Everything was soft and vague except the burning pain in his shoulder and chest, but when he blinked his eyes all were gone. He was someplace else again.
The ceiling was white and nearly featureless at first. Ryan knew somehow that he was under the influence of drugs. He recognized the feelings, but could not remember why. It required several minutes of lazy concentration for him to determine that the ceiling was made of white acoustical tiles on a white metal framework. Some of the tiles were waterstained and served to give him a reference. Others were translucent plastic for the soft fluorescent lighting. There was something tied under his nose, and after a moment he began to feel a cool gas tracing into his nostrils oxygen? His other senses began to report in one at a time. Expanding radially down from his head, they began to explore his body and reported reluctantly to his brain. Some unseen things were taped to his chest. He could feel them pulling at the hairs that Cathy liked to play with when she was drunk. His left shoulder felt . . . didn't really feel at all. His whole body was far too heavy to move even an inch.
A hospital, he decided after several minutes. Why am I in a hospital . . .? It took an indeterminate period of concentration for Jack to remember why he was here. When it came to him, it was just as well that he could contemplate the taking of a human life from within the protective fog of drugs.
I was shot, too, wasn't I? Ryan turned his head slowly to the right. A bottle of IV fluids was hanging on a metal stand next to the bed, its rubber hose trailing down under the sheet where his arm was tied down. He tired to feel the prick of the catheter that had to be inside the right elbow, but couldn't. His mouth was cottony dry. Well, I wasn't shot on the right side . . . Next he tried to turn his head to the left. Something soft but very firm prevented it. Ryan wasn't able to care very much about it. Even his curiosity for his condition was a tenuous thing. For some reason his surroundings seemed much more interesting than his own body. Looking directly up, he saw a TV-like instrument, along with some other electronic stuff, none of which he could make out at the acute angle. EKG readout? Something like that, he decided. It all figured. He was in a surgical recovery room, wired up like an astronaut while the staff decided if he'd live or not. The drugs helped him to consider the question with marvelous objectivity.
"Ah, we're awake." A voice other than the distant, muffled tone of the PA system. Ryan dropped his chin to see a nurse of about fifty. She had a Bette Davis face crinkled by years of frowns. He tried to speak to her, but his mouth seemed glued shut. What came out was a cross between a rasp and a croak. The nurse disappeared while he tried to decide what exactly the sound was.
A man appeared a minute or so later. He was also in his fifties, tall and spare, dressed in surgical greens. There was a stethoscope hanging from his neck, and he seemed to be carrying something that Ryan couldn't quite see. He seemed rather tired, but wore a satisfied smile.
"So," he said, "we're awake. How are we feeling?" Ryan managed a full-fledged croak this time. The doctor gestured to the nurse. She came forward to give Ryan a sip of water through a glass straw.
"Thanks." He sloshed the water around his mouth. It was not enough to swallow. His mouth tissues seemed to absorb it all at once. "Where am I?"
"You are in the surgical recovery unit of St. Thomas's Hospital. You are recovering from surgery on your upper left arm and shoulder. I am your surgeon. My team and I have been working on you for, oh, about six hours now, and it would appear that you will probably live," he added judiciously. He seemed to regard Ryan as a successful piece of work.
Rather slowly and sluggishly Ryan thought to himself that the English sense of humor, admirable as it might otherwise be, was a little too dry for this sort of situation. He was composing a reply when Cathy came into view. The Bette Davis nurse moved to head her off.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ryan, but only medical person "
"I'm a doctor." She held up her plastic ID card. The man took it.
"Wilmer Eye Institute, Johns Hopkins Hospital." The surgeon extended his hand and gave Cathy a friendly, colleague-to-colleague smile. "How do you do, Doctor? My name is Charles Scott."
"That's right," Ryan confirmed groggily. "She's the surgeon doctor. I'm the historian doctor." No one seemed to notice.
"Sir Charles Scott? Professor Scott?"
"The same." A benign smile. Everyone likes to be recognized, Ryan thought as he watched from his back.
"On of my instructors knows you Professor Knowles."
"Ah, and how is Dennis?"
"Fine, Doctor. He's associate professor of orthopedics now." Cathy shifted gears smoothly, back to medical professional. "Do you have the X-rays?"
"Here." Scott help up a manila envelope and extracted a large film. He held it up in front of a lighting panel. "We took this prior to going in."
"Damn." Cathy's nose wrinkled. She put on the half-glasses she used for close work, the ones Jack hated. He watched her head move slowly from side to side. "I didn't know it was that bad."
Professor Scott nodded. "Indeed. We reckon the collarbone was broken before he was shot, then the bullet came crashing through here just missed the brachial plexus, so we expect no serious nerve damage and did all this damage." He traced a pencil across the film. Ryan couldn't see any of it from the bed. "Then it did this to the top of the humorous before stopping here, just inside the skin. Bloody powerful thing, the nine millimeter. As you can see, the damage was quite extensive. We had a jolly time finding all these fragments and jigsawing them back into proper place, but we were able to accomplish this." Scott held a second film up next to the first. Cathy was quiet for several seconds, her head swiveling back and forth.
"That is nice work, Doctor!"
Sir Charles' smile broadened a notch. "From a Johns Hopkins surgeon, yes, I think I'll accept that. Both these pins are permanent, this screw also, I'm afraid, but the rest should heal rather nicely. As you can see, all the large fragments are back where they belong, and we have every reason to expect a full recovery."
"How much impairment?" A detached question. Cathy could be maddeningly unemotional about her work.
"We're not sure yet," Scott said slowly. "Probably a little, but it should not be overly severe. We can't guarantee a complete restoration of function the damage was far too extensive for that."
"You mind telling me something?" Ryan tried to sound angry, but it hadn't come out right.
"What I mean, Mr. Ryan, is that you'll probably have some permanent loss of use of your arm precisely how much we cannot determine as yet and from now on you'll have a permanent barometer. Henceforth, whenever the weather is about to change for the worse, you'll know it before anyone else."
"How long in this cast?" Cathy wanted to know.
"At least a month." The surgeon seemed apologetic. "It is awkward, I know, but the shoulder must be totally immobilized for at least that long. After that we'll have to reevaluate the injury and we can probably revert to a normal cast for another . . . oh, another month or so, I expect. I presume he heals well, no allergies. Looks to be in good health, decent physical shape."
"Jack's in good physical shape, except for a few loose marbles in his head." Cathy nodded, an edge on her weary voice. "He jogs. No allergies except ragweed, and he heals rapidly."
"Yeah," Ryan confirmed. "Her teethmarks go away in under a week, usually." He thought this uproariously funny, but no one laughed.
"Good," Sir Charles said. "So, Doctor, you can see that your husband is in good hands. I will leave the two of you together for five minutes. After that, I wish that he could get some rest, and you look as though you could use some also." The surgeon moved off with Bette Davis in his wake.
Cathy moved closer to him, changing yet again from cool professional to concerned wife. Ryan told himself for perhaps the millionth time how lucky he was to have this girl. Caroline Ryan had a small, round face, short butter-blond hair, and the world's prettiest blue eyes. Behind those eyes was a person with intelligence at least the equal of his own, someone he loved as much as a man could. He would never understand how he'd won her. Ryan was painfully aware that on his best day his own undistinguished features, a heavy beard and a lantern jaw, made him look like a dark-haired Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties. She played pussycat to his crow. Jack tried to reach out for her hand, but was foiled by straps. Cathy took his.
"Love ya, babe," he said softly.
"Oh, Jack." Cathy tried to hug him. She was foiled by the cast that he couldn't even see. "Jack, why the hell did you do that?"
He had already decided how to answer that. "It's over and I'm still alive, okay? How's Sally?"
"I think she's finally asleep. She's downstairs with a policeman." Cathy did look tired. "How do you think she is, Jack? Dear God, she saw you killed almost. You scared us both to death." Her china-blue eyes were rimmed in red, and her hair looked terrible, Jack saw. Well, she never was able to do much of anything with her hair. The surgical caps always ruined it.
"Yeah, I know. Anyway, it doesn't look like I'll be doing much more of that for a while," he grunted. "Matter of fact, it doesn't look like I'll be doing much of anything for a while." That drew a smile. It was good to see her smile.
"Fine. You're supposed to conserve your energy. Maybe this'll teach you a lesson and don't tell me about all those strange hotel beds going to waste." She squeezed his hand. Her smile turned impish. "We'll probably work something out in a few weeks. How do I look?"
"Like hell." Jack laughed quietly. "I take it the doc was a somebody?"
He saw his wife relax a little. "You might say that. Sir Charles Scott is one of the best orthopods in the world. He trained Professor Knowles he did a super job on you. You're lucky to have an arm at all, you know my God!"
"Easy, babe. I'm going to live, remember?"
"I know, I know."
"It's going to hurt, isn't it?"
Another smile. "Just a bit. Well, I've got to put Sally down. I'll be back tomorrow." She bent down to kiss him. Skin full of drugs, oxygen tube, dry mouth, and all, it felt good. God, he thought, God, how I love this girl. Cathy squeezed his hand one more time and left.
The Bette Davis nurse came back. It was not a satisfactory trade.
"I'm 'Doctor' Ryan, too, you know," Jack said warily.
"Very good, Doctor. It is time for you to get some rest. I'll be here to look after you all night. Now sleep, Doctor Ryan."
On this happy note Jack closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be a real bitch, he was sure. It would keep.
from Patriot Games
by Tom Clancy
Copyright ©1988 Jack Ryan Limited Partnership
"A high-pitch of excitement."—The Wall Street Journal
"Ambitious, daring…as spectacular as any thriller ever."—Minneapolis Star Tribune
Thirty years ago Tom Clancy was a Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history. Years before, he had been an English major at Baltimore's Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, The Hunt for Red October—the first of the phenomenally successful Jack Ryan novels—sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it "the perfect yarn." From that day forward, Clancy established himself as an undisputed master at blending exceptional realism and authenticity, intricate plotting, and razor-sharp suspense. He passed away in October 2013.
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Tom Clancy¿s Patriot Games is an excellent example of a political thriller that maintains a necessary human factor that is elemental to the story. This is the tale of Jack Ryan, a former marine and now an American tourist in England who breaks up a terrorist attack on the Prince of Wales, heir to the throne. His intervention saved the Heir¿s life, and drew terrorist attention on him and his family. Clancy uses heart-stopping action to keep his readers excited and interested. The first attack and exciting climax are exceptional examples of this. The suspense he creates with Ryan and his family is incredible. The main character is Jack Ryan, a former Marine lieutenant who now teaches history at Annapolis. Clancy portrays Ryan as a man who will stop at nothing to keep his family safe. He is a man who stands up for what he thinks is right, and is haunted by his conscience for the actions he takes. He is not a warrior but knows how to use his mind, and his Marine training saves his life as well as the lives of others many times. The setting for the story is very valuable to the plot. The terrorists in the story are from Ireland, and are very professional. However, the antagonist, Sean Miller, uses a personal tragedy as an excuse to attack Ryan in America. This book was written in 1988, so terrorism was unheard of in America. If the plot had taken place anywhere else, then terrorism would be an understood threat and wouldn¿t be as exciting or foreign a threat. This is crucial to other parts of the plot. Clancy uses a 3rd person point of view to tell the story from all sides. Not only does it show what Ryan is thinking and doing, it also follows the terrorists throughout their training and attempts at retribution. Clancy also tells the stories of the inner-workings of international Counterterrorism, and the relationships between the British and American efforts. He does this with many characters that can be identified with. One example of this is FBI agent Dan Murray. He is the FBI¿s man in London and he works with the British MI-5 to apprehend international criminals. The author tells of how Murray¿s closest lead is blown when his wiretap is discovered in the suspect¿s store. The way Clancy portrays Ryan is one of the main reasons I enjoyed this so much. However, I would have to see the other side of the coin more. He didn¿t explore the terrorist motivations as much as I would have liked, and if he had dived in a little more into their mindset it would have added a very interesting topic. I think that this novel is an excellent read, and kept me interested the whole way through. I am no stranger to Tom Clancy¿s other novels, but I feel that his realism and talent really shined in this novel. I could not put it down, and would highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a good political thriller.
I watched the movie before reading this book, and have to say that this book is far superior to the movie. Jack Ryan is a well designed character that is easy to relate to and understand. This book was engaging from beginning to end and was worth more than one read. A fantastic addition to the series.
patriot games is a great read for young adults 14+. it has a shocking but amazing begining and it is very good for conversations. the charecters plot theme and everything else is great in this book as in all other tom clancy books.
Patriot Games was an amazingly, quick read. Very entriging. I would recommend this for anyone who loves action packed novels with a little bit of a sense of humor.
A good read. Parts of the story, such as Jack visiting with the British Royal Family and fawning over their prestige, were not particularly interesting, but it rates four stars because it is a solid action novel. I have read it three times over the years, and that should say something about how much I enjoyed the story. I reserve five stars for novels of literary brilliance and mesmerizing prose. This is a commercial genre novel and as such four stars is great praise.
Tom Clancy's superb writing style is evident in 'Patriot Games.' With Sir John Ryan charging into battle with international terrorists, Clancy focuses more on the characters, then the machines and weapons. For a person who doesn't know what a M23-whoosewhat is(like me)this is a terrific novel. I hope Sir John appears in Clancy's work many more times.
This was an exciting book. Had I had more free time, I would have been finished in two days. As busy as I was, I still managed to tear through the 500 pages in four. If you are a Clancy fan, you can expect Clancy's usual high-quality story. If you haven't read Tom Clancy before, don't be deterred by the know-nothings who have posted negative reviews. Clancy is famous for his research and attention to detail. His characters are well thought out and developed. My guess is that some are offended by the sudden sense of stupidity that washes over them when they are overwhelmed by Clancy's superior grasp of the technicalities of his work, as well as his solid reasoning. Clancy's work does have the tendancy to strongly offend people who think they know everything.
Great book though you have to keep in mind that Clancy hadn't yet come into his own as a writer when it was written. Still a lot of fun.
Surprisingly disappointing! I rarely can leave a book unfinished but this was so bad, I couldn't go on. Given Mr Clancey's reputation as a master writer and especially this book as one of his best, I was surprised at the slow and boring pace, abundance of cliches and really mediocre prose at best. To top it off, the nook version is full of typos. If you like this genre, then you will love Daniel Silva's Gabriel Alon series. It is masterfully written with timely plots and beautifully developed characters.
To say that I slogged through this novel would be an understatement. No matter what I did, I couldn't get my footing for this book. I enjoyed The Hunt For Red October but here I was so bored. The bad kept outweighing the good. A big problem was the actual lack of action. The action scenes were few and very far between and when present were too easily wrapped up. Also, I usually hate when authors use absurd sounding names for characters but here Clancy does the opposite. Its very hard to keep track of who's who when the vast majority of the characters are named Miller, O'Donnell, Murray, and Ryan. Overall, I just expected so much more and was too often bored.
This is the first book I've read by Tom Clancy. it won't be the last. Great detail, great writer! Had to read another one, so I'm on to Executive Orders. This is a MUST READ!!!! But be prepared to lose sleep!
Review of Patriot Games by Greg Uctum Jack Ryan does it again! Tom Clancy's Patriot Games is an excellent example of true selflessness in the face of danger. Written in such detail that the events of the book seem like they actually happened, Patriot Games tells the story of a former Marine who breaks up an attempted terrorist attack on the Prince of Wales while vacationing in London. Although he had no stake in the matter, Jack Ryan stepped in because his military training taught him to protect the innocent at all costs. This intervention attracted the attention of the terrorists after the Heir, and the bulk of the story deals with Ryan, the FBI, the CIA, and MI5 trying to track down the terrorists before another attack can be made on the Heir or on Ryan now that he is on their radar. Clancy's writing gives an inside look as to how things are done in government agencies when dealing with international disasters. Patriot Games reflects an early view of how terrorism was dealt with as it was written in 1988. It is an interesting read and is engaging from the first page to the final sentence. The constant action and shifting viewpoints helps give a clear picture of everything going on and how everyone is reacting to it. The book deals a lot with international cooperation as the Americans and British have to cooperate to find the terrorists responsible for the initial attack in London. The only part of the overall subject the book leaves out is how ordinary people would react if they knew what was going on because the CIA classifies everything on the man responsible, Sean Miller. This book particularly interested me because I enjoy reading about how the government handles matters. The book doesn't have anything to do with my plans for the future, however it affected me in that it helped me realize that there is still a spark of humanity in everyone, and this is something important for many to realize.
It is one of my favorates
I have been a Clancy fan for years. My first read was "Without Remorse" but over the years I have read most of Clancy's books. I saw the "Patriot Game" movie and after reading the book I thought the book was much better. My plan now is to re-read all of the Jack Ryan/John Clark sagas. They are really good.
One of the Best in the World! This book is in fact, one of the best books I have read of all time. Since I like books with a little bit of everything, this book had that. What I love most about this book is that you get to see all the characters point of view. I also love all the history the author puts in his book; I learned an abundance of information about the history of places and organizations. I also love that the villains are super smart and how the prosecutors were all trying hard. I advise you to read a chapter a night to understand everything. If you like action, agents, drama and unexpected twists; this book is most definitely not for you. JK!!!! Seriously though, you should read this book. So do it, but read the first one though, ill recommended too.
The Patriot Games was originelly seen as a movie. I finaly read the book. I plan to read all the "Jack Ryan" books this year.
Another excellent book in the Jack Ryan series. The book is way better the movie with lots of extra details and characters, especially with regard to Ryan's time in Annapolis. A must read!!!!
This book is great. It could br a bit hard for young readers to understand. This is a pretty big book but withinthe pages of this book is a great story told by one of the best writers of war.