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The As exercised the contract option on right-handed pitcher Grant Balfour for the 2013 season, the club announced Thursday. The option year is believed to be worth 4.5 million.
The As declined to exercise the 10 million option on shortstop Stephen Drew.
Balfour originally signed a two-year deal with a club option for 2013 on January 18, 2011.
Drew was in the second year of a two-year contract with a mutual option for 2013.Balfour had two stints as the As closer in 2012 and saved a team-leading 24 games in ateam-high 75 appearances while posting a 2.53 ERA.
RELATED: Grant Balfour 2012 game logs
He was charged with two blown saves, all during his first stint as closer, and his save percentage of 92.3 ranked fourth in the American League and tied for fourth in Oakland history. Balfour also ranked second among AL relievers in opponents batting (.160), third in slugging (.253), fourth in on-base percentage (.242), fifth in games, tied for fifth in innings (74.2) and 10th in saves.
The 34-year-old right-hander finished the season by converting each of his final 18 save opportunities. A native of Australia, Balfour has the most career saves (34) and strikeouts (442) by an Australian-born pitcher.RELATED: A's Inge, Reddick Gold Glove finalists
Drew was acquired from Arizona August 20 for minor league infielder Sean Jamieson and a player to be named later or cash considerations.
RELATED: Stephen Drew 2012 game logs
He batted .250 with five home runs and 16 RBI in 39 games with the As after hitting .193 with two home runs and 12 RBI in 40 games with the Diamondbacks. The 29-year-old combined for a career-low .223 batting average in 79 games overall after missing the first 73 games of the season recovering from a broken ankle.Oakland A's media services contributed to this report


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Manufacturer / StyleBrooks Moving Comfort 300424Product NameFearless CapriCurrent StatusOut of production / no longer available.Alternative Styles
Champion Authentic Jersey Jogger Capri$24.00 Now: $16.80
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Wilson happy to make Grapefruit debut
Wilson happy to make Grapefruit debut
For Wilson, it was just a big step to be able to play in a Grapefruit League game. The 34-year-old had been out all spring with a calf injury before he started at second base against the Mets at Digital Domain Park.
"It's feeling good," Wilson said. "Any time you can get out there healthy and ready to play is good. I've been sitting on the training room table for the last five weeks or so just champing at the bit. You don't really feel part of the team, so it's nice to get back out here and get time on the field to get ready for the season."
Wilson has played the last few days in Minor League games but had not played with his big league teammates until Tuesday's game. Braves manager Fredi Gonzalez is happy to have Wilson back in action.
"He's been great," Gonzalez said. "He's been bouncing around and running the bases. I think he played seven innings yesterday. We'll try to get him six or seven innings at second and keep progressing."
An All-Star in 2004, Wilson has been known throughout his 11-year career as an excellent defender. He is expected to see time at second base, shortstop and third base.
"He still has a lot left in the tank, especially defensively," Gonzalez said. "I don't think he's a guy that is a part-time player. I think he can play every day in the big leagues."
The Braves expect to have rookies Tyler Pastornicky or Andrelton Simmons as their starting shortstop, but Wilson gives them a veteran option that Gonzalez values.
"We're lucky to have him," Gonzalez said. "He could have probably signed somewhere to have an everyday shortstop job. We feel that of the 30 games or so that we had with him here that he could back up the position at the very least. It was a great signing to have him come back."


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Looking Back At The Wall Street Journal's Coal Op-Ads
Guest | September 13, 2012
By Guest • Thursday, September 13, 2012 - 17:12
Cross-posted from Media Matters with permission, view original here.
A Media Matters analysis reveals that The Wall Street Journal's editorials on acid rain mirrored misleading talking points featured in coal industry advertisements running elsewhere in the paper in the 1980s. The Journal also heavily promoted the claims of one particular industry consultant that was on the wrong side of science on acid rain, secondhand smoke and climate change. Years later, as industry groups orchestrate efforts to cast doubt on the science demonstrating health and climate impacts of fossil fuel use, the Journal continues to aid their efforts.
The Wall Street Journal Echoed Misleading Acid Rain Claims From Coal Industry Ads
In the winter of 1981, the Coalition for Environmental-Energy Balance, a front group for the coal industry, ran several advertisements in The Wall Street Journal defending the industry's emissions of sulfur dioxide, which were contributing to acid rain. The ads cast doubt on the threat of acid rain, warned about the cost of regulation, and claimed that calls for action to address sulfur dioxide emissions were politically motivated. The Wall Street Journal's editorial board used these same rhetorical tactics to forestall action on acid rain, as a previous Media Matters analysis found.


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Jennifer Mele and Brett
Dupont exchanged vows at Mill
Hollow Park in Vermilion, on
Saturday, July 13, 2013. Pastor
David Sharp, Jr. officiated the
Attendants included Carla
Ponting as Matron of honor,
Lindsey Valentine and Kim
Fisher as Bridesmaids, Jon
Dupont as Best Man, Adam
Knoll and Matt Thorburn as
Ushers; the couples dog, Joey
was the Ring Bearer! A reception
was held at The Amherst
Eagles Club. Jennifer and
Brett honeymooned in
Jennifer is a Deputy Clerk / Bookkeeper for Lorain County
Probate Court. She is the daughter of Randolph and Carole Mele.
Brett works as a Stelmore Operator at Charter Steel. He is the
son of Robert and Helen Dupont.


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Abortion Debate Solved, Teabag Style
What was I supposed to say to this?
Last week, I attended a town hall meeting in Virginia. I sought out a couple that looked kinda grumpy and started talking with them. Our discussion was pretty far-ranging, and, in the end, I left thinking that these folks were people I wouldn't mind having as neighbors, regardless of how much we disagree about politics. But this was tough to stomach. . . I mean, how do you get to where this guy is at? Seriously, he thinks you can't be a good parent or love your kids if you are pro-choice? Weird.


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Response to Gabriel
|August 24, 2008
|Posted by Dave S. under Intelligent Design
I made the following response in the commentary on another thread. Because some people thought it deserved to become an article in its own right… here it is.
Also with an apology to Jonathan Wells for calling him a "Moonie". I had no idea it was considered by many to be derogatory. I thought it was merely a neutral descriptive like "Jehovah" or "Mormon" or "Amish".
don't try to tell me that Christianity is not the engine running the ID movement
Obviously then we're already guilty by association in your mind.
Guilt by association is a logical fallacy.
You can't ask any ID proponents to give up their religious faith anymore than you can ask an atheist Darwinist to acquire some religious faith. That isn't how science works.
However, since I'm not a religious person I can quite easily give up any notion that the designer of either the universe or of life itself is a deity. I have no data on the nature of the designer other than what I can determine through the nature of the design.
Now I'd like to ask you if it is true that either 1) life was designed in part or in whole or 2) life was not designed in any part. Is this a valid dichotomy? Is there a middle ground between the two choices?
If you agree that's a valid dichotomy then is it true that some scientists are claiming and teaching that life was not designed?
If this is true then, and remembering your own concession (which I agree with) that there are no proofs in science, and the history of the origin and diversification of life is shrouded in millions and billions of years of antiquity (I accept both an old earth and universal common descent as the best current explanations for empiric observations), how can this claim be falsified?
I put to you that the claim can not be truly falsified as that would require proof of design and in science there are no proofs. It may only be rendered more doubtful than design in the heirarchy of possible explanations. It can be rendered more doubtful by either negative evidence (flaws) in the non-design theory itself and by positive evidence of design theory. Positive evidence has been ruled out of the question by definition rather than by analysis. Even though SETI, for example, can legitimately search through cosmic radio patterns in the universe for intelligent agency without any clue or promise of being able to discover the nature or source of the intelligence, it seems that applying the same search parameters to patterns found in living things or patterns in the laws that govern the universe, is no longer "science" as it is in SETI. A double standard is brought to light.
Other positive evidence of intelligent agency is 1) we know it exists in the universe today (it is ourselves) so we know that intelligent agency is possible and 2) the same agency is capable of doing the kind of things that need to be done to plan and/or alter the course of evolution for purposeful ends (designing and/or changing heritable DNA sequences; i.e. genetic engineering).
So we offer positive evidence that detection of design is an acceptable scientific methodology used in many disciplines (cryptology, forensic sciences, archeology, SETI, and so forth), we offer positive evidence that an intelligent designing agency is extant at least in the modern universe which proves that such agency can and does exist in nature, and we offer positive evidence, by demonstration, that intelligent agency is capable of the necessary tasks in directing or steering the course of organic evolution. We lack a smoking gun but that's not unexpected when the trigger was pulled millions or billions of years ago. The gun and the weilder may no longer exist but the putative bullet holes (the effects), so to speak, remain for us to examine.
The counter-claim that chance & necessity is capable of the necessary tasks has not been demonstrated. It has not been shown that small mutations can ever accumulate into significant novel functional architectures that we observe in living things today. It has not been shown feasible by computer simulations of population genetics, in a laboratory, or in field observation. Yet this undemonstrated means of achieving grand ends has a legally enforced privilege of being the only possible explanation for the origin and diversity of life taught to our children in public schools. It is illegal to question the exclusive theory in a public school (see the Cobb County, Georgia "sticker" case where a disclaimer sticker attached to a biology textbook saying "evolution is a theory, not a fact, and should be critically examined" was ruled unconstitutional) and where mention of the name of any alternative to evolution by pure chance & necessity is also illegal (see Dover, PA trial where a verbal advisory to students that there exist alternative explanations to evolution by chance alone such as intelligent design was ruled unconstitutional).
So what do you propose we do? The gatekeepers of scientific orthodoxy, by majority rule (since when did science become decided by majorities?), or by claiming constitutional authority, who are demonstrably (we have the appropriate surveys to show) a majority composed of atheists, have a vested interest in the exclusionary practices set forth above to further entrench and expand their worldview in all segments of public schooling from kindergarten through post-doctorate.
How do you propose we respond to these unfair, Draconian methods arrayed against us? We do what we can to fight them in the courts where they block our right to have our children taught about the weaknesses of current theory and the nature of alternative theories, we do what we can to expose the ostracism, black balling, and career wrecking of scholars who support ID in public colleges and universities, we blog, we write books. We use whatever means are legally and ethically available to thwart or workaround the gatekeeper's exclusionary practices. Is any of what we do somehow wrong or unfair in your opinion?
And please do me the courtesy of acknowledging that in no case did I use the holy bible (which I consider to be no more than a collection of stories, myths, legends, and largely unverifiable eyewitness accounts created and/or compiled by human authors with human agendas) to support my case in any fashion. My irreligious nature may not be a majority in ID circles but that doesn't seem to have excluded me from it. Bill Dembski's co-author in his latest book, Jonathan Wells, who is also a senior fellow at the Discovery Institute, is a Moonie for Pete's sake. Wells believes some living dude in Korea or somewhere similar named the Reverend Moon is the messiah. It's hard to imagine a more anti-Christian religion than holding out someone other than Christ as the savior. Yet Moonie Wells and agnostic David Scot Springer (me) are still solidly in the ID camp inner circles. Berlinski and Stein are Jews. The ID community is largely composed of Christians, that's true, but the U.S. population is largely composed of Christians. One should expect that the frequency of different religious beliefs of ID adherents would reflect that of population in general if there is no religious bias, and it more or less does reflect that distribution. It reflects that distribution a hell of a lot more than the gatekeepers of scientific orthodoxy embodied in the National Academy of Science which is, survey says, composed of 70% positive atheists, 21% agnostics, and 9% believers in some sort of deity. THAT, my friend, is WAY out of line with the general population. If you want to talk about religious conspiracies in the science establishment I've got the smoking gun for you and it ain't Christians holding it.
58 Responses to Response to Gabriel
Took you off moderation. Sometimes new-member critics get so verbose there's not enough time to respond to all their challenges. Often they insist on repeating objections we've all heard before and that's cause for banishment rather than going through a rehash of arguments that are never settled in the mind of the critic. If a critic enters basically parroting stuff found in talk.origins with an unshakeable faith that his or her source is correct then from experience I know there will be nothing productive as a result. It's frustrating to all involved so I just quash it as soon as it becomes apparent.
You're not quite right about me. I'm a materialist as far as materialism can possibly and reasonably explain the facts. The facts surrounding the origin and diversification of life on earth can be explained by materialist means IMO. I've a standing challenge to my cohorts to describe to me what aspect of life on this planet requires a designer able to transcend the laws of physics. No such description has been given so for now I work under the assumption that life, on this planet anyhow, does not or did not require the involvement of a transcendent agency.
The whole universe, on the other hand, which also appears to be a product of intelligent design, I cannot find a way to explain by well known laws and theories of physics. The multiverse hypothesis doesn't hold water for a number of reasons IMO so for the nonce as far as I'm concerned cosmological origins seems to require some transcendent form of intelligence. Since there doesn't seem to be any way to investigate what came before the origin of the observable universe it doesn't hold much interest for me. I'm only interested in the further pursuit of knowledge not beating my head against an impenetrable brick wall. The origin and diversification of life on this planet is amenable to further investigation since there's a lot of the observable universe still awaiting observation while the origin of the observable universe, or what lies beyond it, is by definition not observable.
One of your points on another thread that I noted was that science is largely interested in practical results. I'm an engineer and I'm pretty much only interested in science that leads to discoveries with practical application and as a taxpayer that's the only science I'm willing to fund, but I don't think that applies to science or scientists in general where knowledge is pursued just for knowledge itself. Anyhow, in that light, I think evolutionary biology writ large is a complete waste of time and money. There are plenty of practical things that further understanding of microevolution might entail since microevolution is going on around us all the time but for practical applications I can't what use there is in worrying about how or why bacteria evolved into single celled eukaryotes or how they evolved into multicellular forms, whether whales came from hippos or something else, birds from dinosaurs, men from reptiles, and so forth. That has no practical concern. All living forms on this planet, so far as we can tell, are deeply related to each other. How they came to be related is rather irrelevant given we can characterize the relationships, in the cases where they matter, empirically. No needs to believe that mice and men shared a common ancestor or diverged by random mutation & selection to know that mice make good model animals for medical research. We know that by comparative anatomy and experience working with them. No matter how mice and men came to be anatomically similar the similarities remain the same and can be empirically determined.
in the sense that Christianity has been the engine running the whole scientific enterprise for at least the last 500 years
Possibly supportable on a cultural basis in a general sense but certainly not at the level of individual participants. Examine the list of Nobel prize winners and you'll find plenty of non-Christians on it, far more than one would expect based upon the religious distribution in the underlying general population. Way too many Jews, agnostics, and atheists. But these people almost all performed their work in and around and through a predominantly Christian culture. Christian culture, particularly that descended from the Protestant Reformation which turned capitalism from an economic thesis into a religious imperative, I believe can be rightly given most of the credit for post enlightenment scientific achievement – not at all due to Christian thought in the laboratory but rather of the success of Christian culture which paid for and encouraged the scientific research. And it encouraged the research primarily because the results of the research could be leveraged for economic success which in the Protestant Reformed world was taken as a measure of success in the eyes of God (Protestant Work Ethic). So capitalism I think is ultimately responsible for the success of post enlightenment science and the Protestant Reformation is ultimately responsible for the support and expansion of capitalism.
I consider intelligent agency to be part of the material universe. Therefore when considering the origin of life on this planet I presume that intelligent agency operating within the confines of physical law could explain it. Of course that raises the question of the origin of the intelligent agency but that's a different question and I don't have any data to apply to that question – as far as I know intelligence preceded matter not the other way around or perhaps there's an equation like E=MC^2 where matter and intelligence are two manifestations of the same underlying thing and like matter & energy the transformation can go both ways. I simply can't do more than speculate about things for which I have no empirical data.
I'm pretty sure all research into fundamental physics is reasonably expected to have practical applications and that belief is as old as physics itself.
You didn't tell me what aspect of life on this planet requires a transcendent designer.
I'm not going to argue that if we play the game of who designed the designer we don't run into the logical problem of needing an uncaused cause but for life on earth we don't have to attempt an infinite regression. We're only talking about what it would take to design the life on our planet. My position is that a material entity operating entirely within the known laws of physics could do it. If you disagree then describe some physical aspect of life as we know it that would require violating the laws of physics to design and assemble it. Perhaps there may be such aspects but I don't know of any and no one so far has been able to present one to me.
Certainly conciousness and mind are candidates for requiring transcendence in their design and creation.
Which physical law do you believe must be violated to create a mind or consciousness and why?
The question was not who made dirt.
The question was what aspect of life on the planet earth would require violating some law of physics in its creation.
You misunderstand my position. I'm not saying a material entity can design life like we find on our planet. I'm saying I don't know of a reason that would prevent a material entity from doing it.
You appear to be arguing that there is an Élan vital. I'm open to the possibility that there is something about life that transcends the material. I'm asking you to tell me what that transcendent thing is and why it's transcendent.
If you could provide a convincing answer to my question we could pull the plug on all efforts to create life by artificial means and end the ID controversy in our favor.
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Julie and Home Outside earn a GWA Gold!by Val Khislavsky
Join us in celebrating Julie's GWA Gold Award for Home Outside: Creating the Landscape You Love and learn what else JMMDS has been cooking up!
Home Outside and the GWA Gold Media Award.
This past Monday, Julie was honored to receive the 2010 GWA Gold Media Award for best writing for Home Outside. Given by the Garden Writers Association, of which Julie is an active member, the award recognizes the talents of GWA members in the areas of writing, photography, graphic design, illustration and electronic media. A full list of award winners will soon be available on the GWA website.
The GWA Symposium included a trip to the Dallas Arboretum, whose Hardy Palm and Tropical Collection is above. Logo: GWA; Photo: Dallas Arboretum.
Award recipients were announced at the gala GWA Awards Banquet, held at Union Station in Dallas, TX. Julie was accompanied by her son, Max, as she and other GWA members from near and far gathered to honor each other's work. The banquet also marked the culmination of the 2010 GWA Symposium, which boasted many informative sessions, garden tours, and special events.
Julie would like to thank everyone who was a part of making Home Outside happen: Senior Editor Peter Chapman from The Taunton Press and his great staff, including Allison Hollett, Trade Sales and Marketing Director, Janel Noblin, Books Publicity Associate, and Audrey Locorotondo, Books Marketer. Julie would also like to thank the JMMDS Team, past and present, including Publications Manager Mary Landon and Senior Designer Bethany Gracia for her wonderful drawings that illustrate the book's concepts, as well as the countless homeowners, designers and photographers whose projects are showcased in the book. Appreciation is also due to Suzanne Fedoruk and Katie Kiefer of Fedoruk & Associates, Inc. who have continued to find innovative ways to get Home Outside out into the world and into the hands of homeowners everywhere. And thank you book and blog readers and commenters, and JMMDS fans for your continued support.
A recent Home Outside Design client received these two schematic design options for his suburban property.
On the heels of this honor, it seems like a good time to announce the official launch of our Home Outside Design service, specially tailored to meet the needs of smaller residential properties. If you've been meaning to make the most out of your landscape but aren't sure where to start, let JMMDS put our HOD designers to work for you.
If your yard looks like this, HOD can help!
Home Outside Design takes homeowners through our process for getting to know your landscape and discovering your design personality. JMMDS provides an HOD kit that has everything you need to get started and walks you through every step of the HOD process, from assessing and photographing your property, to describing your design aesthetic and vision for your landscape. JMMDS then creates two schematic-level design options (like the ones above) that you can use to jumpstart your landscape design process. These plans show options for arranging elements in your landscape to create the foundation of your "Home Outside." Fall is a great time to start on your design work so you can be ready to install in the spring. Email [email protected] for more information or to get started.
Creating Home Outside: Disc One. The DVD is available at jmmds.com/books.
You can also get your landscape design gears turning with Creating Home Outside, our new Design Seminar DVD. In it, Julie gives you a front-row seat at her annual design workshop as she illustrates concepts from the Home Outside book with plenty of real-world examples and landscape images. Signed copies of the DVD are available from jmmds.com/books.
On another note, thanks to all who joined us yesterday evening for Julie's lecture at the Connecticut Horticultural Society—you were a great audience and we hope to see you again soon!
9 Comments
Carol WoodSeptember 17, 2010
Oh, bravo! This is so totally deserved!
Patrick GracewoodSeptember 17, 2010
Congratulations, Julie.
alla yanovsky tiltonSeptember 17, 2010
Congratulations again, Julie! You are truly amazing! Also, thank you for your ispirational and fun talk last night in West Hartford! I was so honored to be your guest.
Julie MesservySeptember 17, 2010
It was such fun to surprise you last night when your daughter Val unexpectedly showed up with me at my Ct. Horticultural Society lecture last night! And also wonderful to have some time with you both afterward.
I was so pleased at the large and enthusiastic turnout to my talk last night–thanks goes to the organizers of the event, especially Steve Silk, Bonnie McLaughlin, and Colleen Fitzpatrick. I enjoyed it all immensely!
Frederick PerezSeptember 17, 2010
Congratulations Julie, and thank you for helping us all to extend our homes to the great out doors no matter how big or small our yards are and utterly enjoy it.
Lynn CavoSeptember 17, 2010
I, too, loved your talk last night. I particularly was enthralled with what your parents had done to make their property a grandchild's paradise. I will try to devise 10 personalized stepping stones with our 10 g'children, and I will keep an eye out for more light 4 seasons statues! Thank you so much for coming to CHS and sharing your insights with us.
Michèle RattéSeptember 18, 2010
Julie, you are a tremendous inspiration! Your generosity of spirit and aesthetic gifts energize and beautify in ever widening circles. Congratulations for the GWA Gold Medal Award. They have chosen so well. HURRAH!!!!
Leslie GoldmanSeptember 18, 2010
Well done and deserved, Julie!! Leslie
elissa @ faucetheadSeptember 22, 2010
congratulations! that is so exciting. i just had to stop by and tell you about the terrarium giveaway we're hosting. i thought it might appeal to you! i'd love for you to check it out here: http://www.faucethead.com/blog/?p=1208. best of luck!


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Following on from the helpful tips received on a Sirloin over the weekend, I've now got a 2kg topside joint defrosting, to cook up tomorrow.
...any hints on a) cooking advice and b) what the hell I can do with it aside from meat & veg and sarnies over the next few days?!
Ta, Rich


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Can any body help me to get the PIO details for Muncipal corporation of Karnatk
Can any body help me to get the PIO details for Muncipal corporation of Karnatk
Please clarify which city in Karnataka ?
The following website will give you links to all Municipal Corportions in different cities in Karnataka. Each webpage of every corporation has a "RTI" link and those have the details of the PIO.
Municipalities, Municipality, Muncipal, Municipal Corporations Karnataka India Asia
Dear Karira.
Thanks for your valuable information. But i was unable to locate PIO in that site. any way i am searching... if u can help me to locate pio for BIJAPUR district it will be helpful
On the website (link given earlier) is a list of Municipal Corporations in Karnataka.
Item Nr. 4 is Bijapur City Municipal Council.
Click on that link.
The Bijapur MC page opens.
On the extreme left hand panel, the 11th option is "RTI Act" (between "Contact Us" and "Budget")
If you click on the RTI Act link, a pdf document will open.
On page 16 of that pdf document (towards the end) you will find details of the PIO.
Hope this helps.
Dear Karira
thank you very much. one more doubt,each and every munciple corporation will have PIO? . now i am planning to get some information regarding the projects happening in my ward in Muddebihal which is taluka place in Bijapur district. can I send application to the PIO listed in Bijapur RTI act.
If you are covered by Bijapur MC, then you can.
Probably you are covered under Local council or Panchayat ?
Just check.
The same body which looks after Roads, water supply, street lights, garbage, etc in your area is the one you should approach.
In any case , if you give your application to PIO of Bijapur MC, then under SEC 6(3) of the RTI Act, he must transfer it to the correct/appropriate PIO within 5 days of receiving the application, with a intimation to you, in writing.
would be helpful


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Well cancelled my eagerly awaiting Slash 9....gutted but im not waiting after 4 date changes.
Ordered in September...arrival date Mid October
Great dont mind waiting
1st date change Now Beginning November
No worries
2nd date change
Now end of November
3rd Date Change
Early December
Now starting to get a bit annoyed
4th date change and the one that broke me
Now 28/12/2011
This extends throughout most of the 2012 range, if your a small 15.5 or large 21.5 they have an even longer wait 30/03/2012.
What is it with the dates this year, most were out before xmas last year but this year some wont be availiable until March by then 6 months later the 2013 bikes start gettig release.
Is there any other companies going down the same road or is it just Trek?


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Search Results
Entries tagged with "
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August 6, 201411:43 PM
Life After Websites tagged "Brand Extension"
Are we entering into a world where websites are becoming antiquated? There are many articles online right now about Facebook and their desire to move the messenger component out of its current environment - where it is one functionality of... Read more
February 17, 2010 4:03 PM
Is This The Future Of Publishing? tagged "Brand Extension"
Always at the bleeding edge of design and content for the magazine industry, Wired Magazine is now formally promoting where they think publishing is going... People will always love paper (I think) and this is not Wired calling for the... Read more


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Playlist (5 talks): Hans Rosling: 5 talks on global issues
20:13Now playingWe know the negative images of Africa — famine and disease, conflict and corruption. But, says Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, there's another, less-told story happening in many African nations: one of reform, economic growth and business opportunity.
15:19Now playingNandan Nilekani, the visionary co-founder of outsourcing pioneer Infosys, explains four brands of ideas that will determine whether India can continue its recent breakneck progress.
17:14Now playingYang Lan, a journalist and entrepreneur who's been called "the Oprah of China," offers insight into the next generation of young Chinese citizens — urban, connected (via microblogs) and alert to injustice.
25:27Now playingContraception. The topic has become controversial in recent years. But should it be? Melinda Gates believes that many of the world's social change issues depend on ensuring that women are able to control their rate of having kids. In this significant talk at TEDxChange, she makes the case for the world to re-examine an issue she intends to lend her voice to for the next decade.
14:32Now playingPollster Dalia Mogahed shares surprising data on Egyptian people's attitudes and hopes before the Arab Spring — with a special focus on the role of women in sparking change.


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The facilities on the campsite are perfectly run (for example the camp shop, restaurant, swimming pool).
A campsite with unusual accommodation (teepee, tree house) or camping pitches (in the countryside with limited facilities).
There are sufficient facilities on the campsite for a comfortable stay (for example a large restaurant or bistro, wellness centre, etc.).
There are extensive facilities in the immediate vicinity of the campsite (for example a leisure pool, entertainment programme, shops, (take away) restaurant).
Question 4
Which activities are especially important to you in the campsite surroundings?
Good opportunities for walking and cycling in the surrounding area.
Lively towns and villages with attractive squares and street markets.
There are good opportunities close by for being sportive (for example canoeing/rafting, kite surfing, diving).
An area with plenty of opportunities for watersports (sailing, motor boats), horse riding, tennis or golf.
Question 5
What do you look out for when it comes to activities organized by the campsite?
A campsite where adventurous activities are organised such as hiking, canyoning or abseiling.
A campsite where sailing or surfing courses, golf clinics or gliding are held or organised.
A campsite with fun entertainment and karaoke evenings and family competitions (badminton, volleyball, football) on the site.
A campsite where regular activities such as cards or bingo evenings are organised.
Question 6
Which characteristics apply mostly to you?
Energetic, adventurous, slightly impatient
Critical, intelligent, self-conscious, like to take the lead
Jovial, cheerful, spontaneous, interested in others
Helpful, relaxed, quiet, thoughtful
Question 7
What interests and leisure activities suits you the most?
Gardening, reading, walking, staying at home, watching TV
Enjoyable evenings with friends, shopping, days out with the children
Motor sports, golf, winter sports, visiting a wellness centre
Active sports, going out, visiting the theatre, adventurous holidays
Question 8
The perfect camping holiday for us mostly means...
Plenty of freedom and especially being involved in sport.
Checking out the attraction of the campsite with the family or friends.
Away from the daily grind, especially relaxation.
A relaxed and care-free holiday doing just what you feel like.
Plenty of comfort, not too much to do, spending time on interests and hobbies and simply 'recharging the batteries'.
Doing something special, looking for adventure and variety, experiencing something new.


text:
By Julie Graham
It's flu season, again. Influenza, in its many forms, is as predictable as death and taxes. Flu is pandemic. Flu is unique among common illness in that it happens every year, around the world, affecting millions, and commanding resources. Many of us are guilty of labeling every cough, sniffle, tummy upset and body ache, from November to April, as " the flu." Often dismissed as an inconvenience, we weigh the benefits of getting the flu shot, to how well it suits our lifestyle. With an overwhelming degree of empirical evidence to support its benefit, and an underwhelming availability of data to the contrary, vaccination against the flu remains a debate of feverish proportions.
Who is behind the tactics of fear, uncertainty, and doubt, which propagate to keep the citizenry from getting the flu shot? I don't claim to know, however, it is as if there is a sort of witch hunt in our society to associate vaccinations with a spectrum of deficits within the neuro-cognitive sphere. As a health scientist, it is hard to come up with any relationship between the two, and harder still, to find the evidence.
This leads us to making the business case for the flu shot. What is the problem analysis? What is the environmental analysis? What is the cost vs. benefit? What about feasibility? What are the assumptions and risks? What about project execution and evaluation? Good news! The work has been done. The United Nations has been monitoring and analysing the incidence and prevalence of flu for, literally, generations, and not only does the evidence support vaccination, but the methodology has been repeated over time, and is so efficient, that the United Nations (which has a stake in both the World Health Organization and the World Bank), supports and endorses programs for global vaccination.
The healthcare industry is the second largest contributor of industrial waste. The flu season causes surges in healthcare expenditure and utilization of non-renewable resources. Hospitalization and care of the sickest of the flu patients incurs sometimes non-recuperable costs related to nursing and medical care, drugs, specialized equipment, as well as lost labor and utilization of benefits for those affected.
The energy usage for treatment translates into environmental cost, as most modern hospitals have not yet converted to renewable energy sources. Additionally, patients with respiratory compromise from the flu receive necessary, empirical coverage of broad spectrum antibiotics. These antibiotics end up down road in the waste stream, contributing to water contamination and drug resistance.
Within the community, there are concerns too. The aforementioned sneezes, sniffles, coughs and aches cause millions of us to seek out treatment at local clinics and doctors offices every year. Most of us understand that antibiotics are useless to treat the viral etiology of influenza, however, antibiotics continue to be prescribed at staggering rates for these symptoms, further contributing to the potential for water contamination and antibiotic resistance.
The business case is clear. The flu isn't going away. However, the resources required to manage the illness are diminishing. Vaccines are inexpensive, approximately $8-16 dollars a shot, according to the Centers for Disease Control. They are abundantly available and empirically supported to be safe as the evidence has shown. The return on this investment is an immeasurable benefit to life and livelihood, environmental protection and resource efficiency.
Julie Graham is a guest author and Registered Nurse from Southern California. A former student of Policy and Sustainability at Presidio Graduate School in San Francisco, she is now pursuing her Doctorate in Nursing Practice from the University of San Diego.
[image credit: Samantha Celera: Flickr cc]


text:
Sweet Sanctuary
Queens, New York
July 1944
Someone bumped him from behind, and he apologized, moving away from the rows of mail cubbies to lean against the opposite wall, where he wouldn't block the foot traffic. Half the population of Queens seemed to be retrieving mail right now. He scratched his head, trying to understand why this letter had come to him.
He checked the signature. N. Allan Eldredge. Scowling, he pressed his memory. Eldredge . . . Eldredge . . . The name seemed familiar. Then he slapped his forehead, remembrance hitting like a wave.
Lydia Eldredge. The nurse from Schofield Station Hospital. The one who had left Oahu early because of a mysterious emergency. An emergency that was no longer a mystery, thanks to the letter.
Micah's gaze dropped to the letter again. Yes, now he understood. Small wonder Lydia had been in such a hurry to get back to the States—halfway through her tour of duty, as he recalled. He released a huff of disgust. He knew Lydia had been rather . . . well, flighty . . . and somewhat self-centered. But despite Lydia's faults, he would never have taken her for a liar. How could she make up such drivel about him? He didn't have time for this kind of nonsense now—not with Jeremiah depending on his help.
Tucking his other mail into his jacket pocket, Micah left the crowded lobby and plunked down on a wrought-iron bench outside the post office. With the noonday sun heating his head, he flattened the letter against his pant leg and read it once more. Slowly. Concentrating on every word and searching for hidden meaning between the lines.
Dr. Hatcher,
I am sure by now you feel certain that your responsibility has been fully avoided, and this letter has come as a surprise. It has taken me some time to locate you. But this is a matter of extreme importance. A child's life has been impacted. As the child's grandfather, I cannot allow him to grow up wondering why his father has chosen to abandon him.
Therefore I request that you honor your responsibility toward your child. He and his mother are living with me in Boston. I will allow you two weeks to contact me. If by the end of that time, you have not chosen to honor your duty to your son, I shall be forced to take legal action. I assure you I have the wealth and influence to see that you do not continue to neglect your responsibility. I encourage—no, I insist—that you come with all due haste to Boston to settle this matter in an honorable fashion.
N. Allan Eldredge
"My son?" Micah muttered, his frustration growing. He had no son—it was impossible! Why on earth would Lydia tell her parents he had fathered her child? He folded the letter and shoved it roughly back into its envelope.
Going to Boston wasn't out of the question, he realized. It would be at least another three weeks before his brother's package arrived in New York. He could spend some of his hard-earned money on a train ticket and be there in less than two days. But to go might acknowledge the accusation held merit, which was ridiculous. Still, could he allow this farce to continue? And what of this boy—Lydia's son? He must be between three and four years old, certainly old enough to understand a father's absence. What had the child been told?
The questions tumbled in Micah's head as haphazardly as a tumbleweed blowing across the Texas prairie of his childhood. And then another childhood remembrance—a welcome one—intruded. His mother's voice tiptoed through his mind: "Son, whatever comes your way, the good Lord knew it was comin' and has a solution in mind. Trust Him to guide you." The letter might have caught Micah by surprise, but nothing came as a surprise to God.
Right there on the bench in the open, he closed his eyes and communicated silently with his Heavenly Father. He offered the situation into God's keeping, and a feeling of peace settled in his heart. "Thank You," he whispered, opening his eyes and focusing once more on the busy noonday traffic. He'd made his decision, and he trusted it was the right one. He would travel to Boston, confront Lydia and her parents, and insist that she tell the truth. Micah was not the father of this child. A twinge of sympathy pinched his conscience for the little boy, but it was not his responsibility no matter what Lydia's father might think. The sooner the man realized it, the better off they would all be. Especially Micah. Being caught up in his brother's travails was responsibility enough.
He pressed his hands against his thighs, pushing himself to his feet like an old man. The situation left him feeling much older than his thirty-six years. But hadn't the burden he and Jeremiah carried aged them at least ten years for each of the past two? Another deep sigh set him in motion toward his small, lonely apartment. He'd make a couple of phone calls and arrange for a temporary replacement at the clinic. He couldn't hand off the other responsibility. He'd have to be back to take care of Jeremiah's package himself. But as soon as possible he'd knock on Lydia Eldredge's door and bring an immediate end to this nonsense.
Micah thanked the taxi driver with a generous tip and a smile before slamming the door. The taxi departed, leaving him standing on the cobblestone street of Boston's prestigious Back Bay neighborhood outside a tall, narrow, ostentatious brownstone crunched side-by-side with several other tall, narrow, ostentatious brownstones. Micah whistled through his teeth—apparently Mr. Eldredge had been accurate in his description of his wealth.
Micah stepped onto the ridiculously tiny yard fronting the house, and not until he was nearly to the steps leading up to double front doors did he see the small boy, crouching in the shadows next to a bush under an overhanging bay window. Micah stopped, staring. This, then, must be the child in question—the one Lydia had said was his son.
Micah froze in place, observing the silent child. The little boy hunkered on his heels, his bottom hovering above the neatly trimmed grass, his elbows tight against his ribs and his hands clasped in front of him. His hair—dark and soft-looking—curled upward at his collar and around his ears. He was obviously intent on something in the grass, his face studious even in shadow.
Curiosity overwhelmed Micah, and instead of climbing the stairs he crouched beside the boy. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
In slow motion, the child placed one finger against his own lips. "Shhh. Bug."
Micah peered into the sparse blades and spotted what held the child's attention. A shiny black beetle dug busily in the dirt between the boy's feet. Micah's lips twitched.
The child peeked sideways at Micah, his thick lashes nearly shielding his brown eyes from view. With a stubby finger, he pointed at the beetle. "I named him Buggy. I'm gonna keep him for a pet, if Mama will let me."
"Buggy is a good name." Micah looked the boy over. He was a handsome lad, small but sturdy, with soft features and expressive eyes. Micah recalled Lydia had brown eyes, but other than that he didn't see much resemblance between the child and his mother.
"Think he'd be happy in a shoebox? That's all I got to put him in." The little boy turned his gaze fully upward.
Somehow it pleased Micah that the child trusted him enough to ask his opinion. He scratched his head thoughtfully, considering the boy's question. "We-e-e-ell," he finally answered while the child waited patiently, still unmoving from his position, "seems to me that bugs are happier when they've got some grass an' dirt to scurry in. A shoebox seems a rather gloomy place to live."
The child's face fell. "You mean he'd be sad in a box?" He looked wistfully at the beetle, his fingers working up and down against his knuckles. "I don't want to make him sad. It's not fun to be sad."
Micah wondered briefly what sadness the child had experienced to make him so empathetic to a simple beetle. "Most creatures are happier in their natural environments."
The little boy wrinkled his forehead. "Nat'ral en—en—what?"
Micah stifled a chuckle. "Natural environment," he repeated, enjoying this exchange more than he could understand. "You know, the place where God planned for them to live."
The child nodded with a serious expression, then stated, "You talk funny."
Micah laughed. "I do?"
The little boy nodded, making the lock of hair falling across his forehead bounce. "Yes. Your voice goes like this—lee-uv. How come you don't say 'live' like I do?"
Again, Micah scratched his head. He exaggerated his southern twang just for the boy. "Well, I reckon because my natural environment was Texas when I was growin' up. Most ever'body there talked just like me."
The boy's eyes danced with glee. "Lahke," he repeated, mimicking Micah's accent. "Lahke tha-et." He grinned, dimples appearing in his apple cheeks. "I lahke the way you talk."
Micah felt smitten. What a charming little boy. Whoever his father was, the man was certainly missing out, not being a part of the child's life. Micah stuck out his hand. "I'm Micah. What's your name?"
The boy placed his moist, grubby hand into Micah's. "Nicholas Allan Eldredge the Third. Mama calls me Nicky." He leaned toward Micah, cupping his hand next to his mouth as if telling a secret. "I'm small for my age."
Micah struggled against a chuckle. He forced a serious look. "Hmm, let's see. Stand up for me, partner."
The boy straightened, revealing one untied Oxford and two sagging socks. Micah looked him up and down, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well, now, Nicky, 'pears to me you're just about right. Your feet reach the ground an' everything. That's about all a boy could want."
Nicky laughed, his face crinkled with delight. "I like you."
The compliment warmed Micah right down to the soles of his feet. Whoa, be careful. This one could grow on you. Micah straightened, too, his height much greater than young Nicky's. The little boy tipped his head back and looked up at Micah, a grin still dimpling his cheeks.
Micah realized he needed to get down to business. "So, partner, is your mama inside?"
Nicky nodded. "Uh-huh. And Grammy and Poppy."
Micah assumed those must be Lydia's parents. It was good they were all here—he could get this situation righted with everyone all at once. "Could you show me?"
Suddenly Nicky's mouth dropped open and he clapped a hand to his cheek. "My bug!" He fell to his knees, his fingers parting the grass blades in a frantic search.
Micah dropped to one knee to search, too, but the beetle was gone. He looked at the bereft child. Two plump tears hovered on Nicky's lashes. They nearly broke Micah's heart.
"He left." The boy's chin quivered. "And I was gonna make him my pet. Not in a shoebox." He placed one dirty hand on Micah's upraised knee. "I was gonna build him a little fence out here so he could be in his nat'ral en—envire—" He huffed. "You know, where God planned him to be. Right out here in the grass and dirt." A huge sigh heaved Nicky's narrow shoulders. "But now he's gone."
"Aw, don't be sad." Micah wrapped his broad hand around Nicky's sweaty neck. "You know, Buggy probably went on home to his mama. He's probably tellin' her right now, 'I met me a boy who was real nice an' let me come home again.'"
Nicky tipped his head, considering this. "You think so, Micah?"
Micah liked the way his name sounded on the child's lips. "I do."
Nicky stuck out his lower lip, his eyes on the grass. Then he nodded and stood up. "I want him to happy. He's prob'ly happier with his mama than he would be in a little fence all by himself."
"Good boy."
Lydia had done a fine job with Nicky. He was articulate, obviously bright, polite, and kindhearted—a wonderful little boy. For the second time Micah warned himself: Be careful.
Nicky reached out and grabbed Micah's hand, tugging. "Come on, Micah. I'll take you to Grammy and Poppy."
Micah rose slowly, his knees popping.
Nicky smirked. "Poppy's legs do that, too. But you're not old like Poppy."
Micah certainly felt old some days. But somehow this child had lightened his heart, taking years away. He smiled, sending Nicky a wink. "Let me give you a word of advice there, partner," he said as the boy led him toward the stairs. "Don't tell your poppy he's old. Most folks don't like to be reminded of that."
Nicky's shoulders lifted in a carefree shrug. "Okay." He released Micah's hand to scamper up the steps. Micah followed more slowly, using the hand rail. Nicky waited beside the door, clutching the door handle and bouncing on his toes while he waited for Micah to catch up. But before Nicky could turn the knob, the door was pulled open from the inside, and framed in the doorway stood Nicky's mother.
Micah stopped, one foot on the last riser and one on the porch floor, as Lydia's gaze met his. She scowled momentarily, as if trying to place something, and then her jaw dropped in shock. Her hand flew to her chest and color climbed her cheeks.
Micah took the final step onto the porch, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Hello, Lydia."
MM-Micah?" Lydia stared, unable to believe she wasn't imagining his presence. On the island of Oahu four years ago, this man had flooded her dreams, but when she'd left the army base she'd assumed she would never see him again. What brought him to Boston? How had he found her?
"That's right," Nicky chirped, swinging his arms and smiling up at his mother. "He's Micah. And he's my friend. Micah-my-friend. And he talks lahke thee-us."
Though aware of Nicky's words, Lydia felt strangely distanced from them. She placed a trembling hand on her son's head, her gaze never wavering from Micah's. "That's nice, Nicky."
Micah took another step forward. "May I come in?"
"What? Oh! Yes, certainly." Lydia stepped back, heat searing her face. She gestured jerkily for him to enter. "Please . . . come in."
Nicky darted through the long corridor, calling, "Grammy! Poppy! We have comp'ny!" The child disappeared around a bend, and Micah looked after him, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Lydia used two hands to close the door and stood with her palms pressed against the solid wood, hoping to gain strength from the sturdy oak. If she were to make a list of the people least likely to show up on her doorstep, Dr. Micah Hatcher would top the list. Having him so near, after the years that had passed since they'd worked together at Schofield Station Hospital, completely disoriented her. Her knees quaked. Her body tingled with awareness. And her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Which was just as well, because she had no idea what to say.
She turned to find Micah waiting patiently behind her, hands still in his pockets, his face expressionless. "I suppose you knew I'd come."
Lydia frowned. What did he mean? Before she could phrase a response, her father appeared at the end of the corridor and strode quickly toward them, his hand extended to Micah.
"Dr. Hatcher?"
Father's bearing—chin raised, shoulders square, eyes slightly narrowed and gleaming with arrogance—cowed most people. But Micah didn't shrink. He grasped Father's hand. "That's correct."
"I am Allan Eldredge, Lydia's father. It was good of you to come." He kept his chin raised, peering at Micah in the superior manner Lydia knew well.
Micah raised one sardonic eyebrow. "You didn't give me much choice."
Lydia looked from one man to the other, questions racing through her mind. Choice? What was Micah intimating?
"Let's step into my den." Her father glanced at her. "Lydia, have your mother prepare some tea." He turned back to Micah. "Or do you prefer something stronger?"
Micah shook his head. "Don't bother on my account. I don't need anything, thank you."
"Very well." Father lifted a hand, indicating a wide doorway to the left of the corridor. "Then let's get better acquainted."
Lydia tried to follow, but her father abruptly closed the pocket doors in her face. She considered opening them, demanding to be included, but she decided she wasn't up to an argument. Sighing, she turned and headed to the kitchen, where she found Nicky at the table, swinging his feet and chomping an oatmeal cookie. Her mother hovered uncertainly behind him, a glass of milk in her hand. When Lydia entered, Lavinia Eldredge placed the milk on the table in front of Nicky and busied herself with some cut flowers on the dry sink. Lydia knew she'd get no information from her mother, assuming she knew anything.
"Hi, Mama!" Nicky's cupid's mouth was ringed with crumbs. "Do you lahke Micah, too?"
Oh yes, at one time she'd liked Micah. To the point of infatuation. But she wouldn't admit it. She seated herself next to Nicky and reached for his foot, bringing it up to rest on her knee and tying the loose shoelace. "So you made a friend, huh?"
Nicky nodded, a grin lighting his sweet face. "Micah-my-friend. He's nice, Mama. He said I'm just right 'cause my feet reach the ground. And Buggy is prob'ly with his mama being glad I didn't put him in a shoebox."
Nicky and his whims of imagination. Lydia couldn't follow the little boy's line of talk, but she nodded anyway. She rested her chin in her hand, watching fondly as Nicky finished his snack. Her mind carried her backward to the last time she'd seen Dr. Micah Hatcher.
Under the sun on idyllic Oahu, standing beside the Pineapple Express . . . He hadn't spoken to her as she'd waited to board the train. She hadn't spoken either, caught up in worry about Eleanor. As much as she'd admired Micah and wanted his attention, she hadn't sought it that day. And she wasn't certain she should seek it now, even though he was only a few yards away.
Voices exploded from the den. Mother turned from the sink, her fingers covering her mouth. Nicky sat up straight. His head turned toward the sound. Then he gave Lydia a worried look. "Mama, Poppy is yelling at Micah-my-friend."
How odd Nicky would express loyalty to a man he'd only just met rather than the grandfather who had helped raise him, but then Lydia listened again and understood. It wasn't angry voices they were hearing, but only one angry voice—Allan Eldredge's.
Nicky jumped up as if to run to the hall, but Lydia caught him and eased him back into the chair. "Stay here, Nicky."
Mother crossed to the table and placed her hands on the boy's shoulders. "Yes, Nicky, stay here with Grammy. Finish your milk. Micah and Poppy will be fine—men are just noisy sometimes."
Nicky looked up at his grandmother, his expression innocent. "Like boys are noisy, Grammy?"
"Yes, my little noisemaker, like boys are noisy." Mother smiled and bestowed a kiss on the crown of Nicky's head. "Your mama will make sure they quiet down," she added, giving Lydia a meaningful look.
Lydia rose and hurried to the pocket doors, but she jumped back as they burst open and Father charged into the corridor. His neck and cheeks were mottled, his jaw clenched. The question on Lydia's lips remained unasked in light of the rage on her father's face. She swung her gaze to Micah, who looked equally grim. Father kept his back to Micah, his arms crossed, the anger palpable.
Micah spoke to Father's stiff back. "Mr. Eldredge, I appreciate your concern. But you must understand this situation is between Lydia and me. She and I will need to be allowed to find the solution."
Lydia looked from one man to the other, hoping for a clue. What kind of situation existed between Micah and herself? She hadn't seen the man for over three years.
Father whirled, his finger pointing at Micah, but before he could speak, Nicky came racing down the corridor with Mother on his heels. He slid to a stop and wrapped his arms around his grandfather's knees. Nicky's bangs flopped across his forehead as he peered upward. "Poppy, I heard you yelling. Why were you being so noisy?"
Father looked down at the boy, and his expression softened. He cupped the back of Nicky's head with a tender hand. "Did I frighten you?"
Nicky nodded, his little forehead puckered. "You yelled at Micah."
A brief look passed between the men. They seemed to reach a silent agreement to do whatever necessary to prevent upsetting the little boy. Father stroked Nicky's tousled hair. "I'm sorry, Nicky. Poppy is a big man, and sometimes big men make big sounds. But I won't yell anymore."
Micah crouched to Nicky's level, a warm smile lighting his eyes. He was obviously touched by Nicky's concern, and Lydia's heart lifted as she watched him interact with her son. Placing a hand on Nicky's small back, Micah said, "I won't yell either, partner. Deal?"
"Deal." Nicky grinned and then released Father's knees to turn and lean backward against his poppy's sturdy frame.
Micah rose, his gaze on Lydia. The warmth in his expression drained away. "We need to talk." The quiet tone seemed ominous.
A prickle of trepidation made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She swung her confused gaze on her father.
Father, his hands now on Nicky's shoulders, jerked his head in the direction of the door. "I suggest you take a walk."
Nicky angled his head nearly upside down as he tried to see his grandfather's face. "Can I go, too?"
"No, you stay with me," Father said.
"But I want to take a walk with Micah-my-friend."
Micah reached out and lightly tapped the end of Nicky's nose with one finger. "Tell you what, partner. I'll take a walk with your mama first, and then when I get back, I'll take a walk with you. Sound good?"
"You and me take a walk alone?" Nicky's wide brown eyes begged.
Micah glanced at Lydia, and she nodded her approval, her heart turning strangely in her chest at Micah's kindness to Nicky.
"Yep, just you an' me, partner."
"Hurray!" Nicky suspended himself happily from Father's hands. "Poppy, Micah and me are gonna take a walk!"
"Good." Father looked at Lydia, his expression carrying a warning. "Go on now."
Winging a quick, wordless prayer for strength heavenward, Lydia pressed her trembling palms against the hips of her trousers and raised her shoulders. "Well, let's go then."
Micah followed her out the door.
Micah's anger had been stirred in his brief encounter with Nicholas Allan Eldredge the Second. Had he ever been part of such a one-sided, accusatory conversation? The man's angry—and inaccurate—allegations still rang through Micah's head. He needed to gain full control of his temper before he asked Lydia why she had named Micah as her son's father. She walked slowly, purposefully, each step measured and stilted. Her gaze stayed straight ahead, not even acknowledging his presence. He sensed her tension, but why should she be tense? She'd started this mess with her untruths.
Micah looked up and down the street. Square patches of grass formed emerald carpets leading from the sidewalk to the bricked faces of four-story-high houses. An abundance of flowering bushes and patches of flowers reminiscent of those his mama planted in her garden—geraniums, poppies, daisies, and bachelor buttons—created eye-catching splashes of color that helped soothe the frayed edges of his nerves.
Lydia's neighborhood was certainly different from the one where he lived in Queens. Her corner of the world seemed much more tranquil than his, few people and fewer vehicles around. A bird sang cheerfully from a snowball bush growing next to the railed stairway of one house. The lilting melody further quieted Micah's irritation.
They were well away from Lydia's home, and Micah had calmed enough to address the issue. Help me keep my anger in check, God. He cleared his throat to speak, and Lydia jumped at the sudden noise. She turned in his direction, her brown eyes wide and apprehensive. The expression in her eyes brought to mind little Nicky's pensive gaze, and he had to fight against a smile that threatened. He didn't want to smile at Lydia. Not yet.
"Is Nicky the reason you left Schofield?"
She looked forward again with a defensive thrust to her jaw. "Yes."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Lydia reached out and picked a daisy from a cluster growing near the sidewalk. She twirled the bloom as they continued ambling side by side. "I didn't believe it concerned anyone else."
Micah sent her a sidelong look, irked by her indifferent response. "Your father obviously doesn't agree with your opinion." He paused, his hands clasped behind his back, lest he give in to the temptation to throttle someone. "Why did you tell him I'm Nicky's father?"
Lydia came to a dead halt and spun to face him, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. "Why did I—?" She threw down the daisy with force. "I did no such thing!" The denial was adamant and—unless Micah was a poor judge of character—truthful. He remembered her expression when she'd found him on her doorstep earlier. Her shock had seemed genuine. Could she be innocent of creating this muddle?
"Do you have any idea why your father would make that assumption?"
"Father couldn't possibly believe such a thing."
Her indignation was real but misguided. Micah reached inside his jacket and removed the letter he'd received from Allan Eldredge. He handed it to Lydia and watched her read it. Her face slowly drained of color as her eyes scanned the written script. Finally she raised her gaze, her dark eyes wide. She held out the letter as if it were a poisonous snake and shook her head.
"I can't believe . . ." She swallowed, glancing once more at the letter, her face pale. "I had no idea. Oh, Micah, no wonder you came. I'm so sorry."
Micah took the letter from her unresisting fingers, folded it, and returned it to his pocket. In the brief time he'd visited with N. Allan Eldredge, he'd been given the impression Lydia's father was a man few people crossed. He suspected his daughter didn't cross him, either. He gave Lydia's arm a gentle squeeze, his anger with her completely gone in light of her very real distress. "Lydia, I'm sorry, too. I thought you knew why I was here and that you had told him to contact me."
She shook her head, her chin-length dark hair lifting in the slight breeze. "No, he didn't say a word to me." She placed one hand along her jaw as if she had a toothache. "But where would he have . . . ?" Then her shoulders slumped, comprehension dawning, the hand falling to her side. "About two months ago, I noticed my diaries had been moved. I didn't think much about it at the time—I thought perhaps the maid had shifted them when she dusted my shelves—but now I wonder . . ."
Micah could have made a teasing remark about her writing about him in her diary, but he didn't feel much like teasing right now. "You think he read your diary?"
She flipped her hands outward. "He must have. It's the only explanation. I've never mentioned you in conversation. The only place he could have found your name would be my diaries." She ran her hands through her hair from temples to nape, sweeping it into appealing wings away from her face. "I can't believe he would violate my privacy this way!" She spun and stomped up the sidewalk, her heels clacking.
Micah trotted to keep up. He had no difficulty believing that her father had read through Lydia's private thoughts. Allan Eldredge struck him as a ruthless man, intent on having his own way regardless of the cost. "Did you write about Nicky's real father in your diaries?"
Lydia stopped again, dropped her head, and gave a slight nod.
"Then he must not have read everything."
Lydia slowly brought up her chin and looked ahead, giving Micah a view of her profile. He found it just as appealing as he had the first time he'd spotted her across the mess hall at Schofield. Oh yes, he'd been interested. Until he'd discovered she had no interest in Christianity. He wouldn't pursue a faithless woman.
She spoke, her voice flat. "Father has no need to read my diary to discover the identity of Nicky's father. He's known all along."
"Then why would he—?"
Lydia turned her gaze to Micah. Her eyes appeared much older than her years. "He's afraid. I'm afraid. He did it for me—and for Nicky."
Micah crunched his brow, completely confused. "Lydia, I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. You'd have to know the whole story. . . ." Turning away again, she sighed. A tired sigh. A sad sigh. She ran a hand through her hair once more—a thoughtless gesture—then blinked rapidly, biting down on her lower lip. "Micah, you came in answer to a letter that should have never been sent. The least I can do is tell you about Nicky. But not in the open, on the sidewalk where anyone could overhear." Her eyes begged him to listen and understand. "Can we go somewhere private?"
Micah shrugged. "I'm new in town. You'd need to pick the place."
"We'll take a drive," she said. "I have my gas ration coupons for three weeks saved up—we'll drive to Manchester-by-the-Sea, where there's no chance of being overheard." Such secretiveness set Micah's teeth on edge. "Of course, you'll have to take a walk with Nicky first." A small smile appeared on her face.
Micah chuckled. "I promised him. I won't break the promise."
Lydia nodded, giving him an approving smile. Yet her eyes still seemed sad. "Let's head back, then." She turned, took one step, then stopped. Her expression turned desperate as she caught hold of his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "Micah, what I share with you this evening must stay between us. Nicky's safety depends on it."
A jolt of fear struck as firmly as a fist to Micah's belly. He nodded, making a silent vow. She began walking, and he fell in step beside her. They didn't speak, but his mind raced, his questions taking on a prayerlike quality. God, this has got me spooked. What kind of secret does Lydia harbor?
The sky had changed to a dusky pink by the time Lydia parked her Hudson at a high point overlooking a steep decline to the ocean's expanse. Micah looked out the window, whistling softly at the view. Manchester-by-the-Sea stretched behind them like a twinkling blanket, electric lights shining in countless windows. On the opposite side, stars shimmered in a clear night sky, sending dappled reflections across the gently rolling waves. God had outdone Himself when He created this corner of the world.
He cranked his window open to allow a breeze, and the sound of a cricket singing its night song intruded. The air was a bit cooler here, but certainly not cold. Sweet scents—fruits, flowers, and damp earth—drifted in, competing with the tang of sea air. He glanced at Lydia. Her gaze was turned outward, but he suspected she wasn't really seeing the view. The fingers of one hand ran idly across the steering wheel, and her puckered face indicated she was lost in thought.
"Are you ready to talk?" Although he spoke softly, she gave a start.
Slowly she faced him, her hand stilling on the steering wheel and curling around the varnished wood as if in need of security. She released a breath, then set her jaw in a familiar, determined way. "Yes." She shrugged slightly, the shiny fabric of her blouse rippling like the ocean waves with the movement. "But I'm not sure where to start."
Micah shifted, bringing up one knee to prop his heel on the edge of the seat. He wrapped his arm around his knee in a casual pose he hoped would reduce the tension in the vehicle. "How about starting at Schofield, when you left."
She tipped her head, seeming to considering this, then nodded briskly. "All right. Do you remember I asked permission to go to Honolulu?"
He nodded. He'd been given instruction to drive her to the train station, and he hadn't been pleased. Her penchant for flirtation made him uncomfortable. But she hadn't been flirtatious that day.
"I desperately needed to get away. You see, for weeks I had been struggling with a problem, and I just couldn't find a solution. I had gotten a letter from a friend, Eleanor . . ." She paused again, grimacing. "Micah, I'm sorry. For all of this to make sense, I'm going to have to go farther back—to when I took the Red Cross classes and agreed to a year of army service at Schofield. Please bear with me."
Micah reached out and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Take your time."
She gave him a grateful look, then continued. "Eleanor and I were lifelong friends. Our fathers worked together. Father is in crating—"
Micah frowned in confusion, and Lydia laughed softly before offering a brief explanation. "His business is to make crates. The crates are used for shipping everything from oranges to machine gun parts. It's been a very lucrative business and the war has only made it more so."
Micah nodded. Considering how many things were being shipped overseas these days, Eldredge had no doubt amassed a small fortune.
"Eleanor's father was the foreman of the plant, so our relationship was multifaceted. Our parents worked together, socialized together. . . . Since we were both only children, we became like surrogate sisters. Eleanor and I practically lived together."
She fell silent for a few moments, apparently reliving childhood memories. Micah waited, allowing her the time to sort her thoughts. Eventually, she resumed the story.
"About six months before I left, Eleanor's father hired a new worker—a man named Nicolai Pankin. He was missing one arm—the result of an auger accident when he was a teen—but his remaining arm had more strength than most men possess in two good arms. Oh, he was handsome." Lydia's eyes slid shut, and she drew in a deep breath, as if savoring something sweet. Then she fixed him with a serious look once more. "Despite his handicap, he was very rugged and roguish, which only added to his masculinity. And charming . . . He could coax an apple tree to bear orange blossoms. I found him very attractive, and the first time Eleanor spotted him, she was instantly besotted. But, unlike me, Eleanor was shy. She was too afraid to approach Nic."
Although the dim light made it difficult to make out Lydia's features, Micah heard a change in her voice. A tightness, an underlying anguish.
"One time when Eleanor and I went to visit with her father, I saw Nic following her with his eyes. It bothered me at first—I liked him, too. But I realized that after I completed my Red Cross training, I would leave for nursing duty somewhere. Time with Nic would be short-lived. Additionally, I knew Nic was below my station—no matter how attractive I found him, my parents would never approve."
She lifted one shoulder, a flippant gesture that fell short of being convincing. "So I thought, if I can't have him, then my best friend should." She sighed, crossing her arms across her stomach. "I dragged Eleanor over to where he was working and introduced them. It was my only attempt at playing matchmaker, and it proved to be one time too many. They had a whirlwind romance, and I stood up as Eleanor's maid of honor four months before leaving for Schofield."
She dropped her chin. "Of course, we didn't know until after the wedding that Nic was addicted to morphine. Apparently, when he'd had his accident, the doctor had prescribed it for the pain, and he grew dependent on it. He'd hidden it well, and afterward, it was too late. When Eleanor got pregnant, Nic was furious. He didn't want the worry and burden of children, he said. He found someone who would terminate Eleanor's pregnancy."
Micah grimaced. Although he knew only a bit about Nicolai Pankin, he held no respect for the man.
Lydia continued her story. "Eleanor ran away from him. She went to her parents, but they refused to help her. They hadn't been pleased with her marrying a common laborer, and they told her she'd have to deal with the problem herself. So Eleanor wrote to me, begging for help. She didn't know where else to turn. Besides, I had linked her with Nic, which made me partly responsible. It was her letter that created my emergency.
"I wrote and told her to go to my parents and I would be home as soon as I could. My parents were afraid of taking Eleanor in—they didn't know what Nic might do, and they knew it would create a serious rift in their friendship with her parents, which would also affect Father's business. So they arranged sanctuary with a midwife, and they paid for Eleanor's keep until her baby was born."
Lydia paused, and Micah, now certain he knew Lydia's secret, interjected with a gentle question. "Lydia, Nicky isn't really your son, is he?"
"Not my son?" Lydia choked out a single sob. She pressed a fist against her mouth, gaining control. "Nicky has been mine from the moment the midwife placed him in my arms." The fervency in her tone pierced Micah. "He couldn't possibly be more mine if I'd given birth to him. He is my son, in every way that counts."
Micah contemplated her answer. He understood Lydia's love for the boy. He'd only just met Nicky, and he already felt the stirrings of fondness. "Why isn't Eleanor raising Nicky?"
"Eleanor died three days before I got back from Schofield." Deep sadness colored her tone. "Nicky came early. The midwife said there were complications—there wasn't anything she could do because Eleanor refused to go to the hospital. Eleanor had instructed the midwife to give Nicky to me—she trusted me to come. The moment I held him, I knew I would keep him and raise him as my own. With God's help, and the support of my parents, I've been Nicky's mama ever since."
Micah shook his head in wonder. It seemed the self-centered Lydia had changed a great deal since her time at Schofield. And it was hard to think of that hardheaded man he'd just met assuming responsibility for someone else's baby. "How did you convince your parents to take Nicky in?"
Lydia raised her chin. "I didn't give them much choice. If they wanted me, they had to accept Nicky, too. I was stubborn." Then she shrugged, her tone softening. "And I was lucky my parents were much more accepting than Eleanor's parents had been. Of course, it didn't take long before they loved Nicky as much as I do. We all think of him as my baby."
"And where is Nicky's father?"
While Lydia talked, the moon had sneaked high into the sky, painting a golden pathway across the water and sending a soft glow into the car, illuminating Lydia's silhouette. Her chin began to quiver. "Nicky's father is hanging over our heads like a hangman's noose."
A chill eased down Micah's spine.
"Shortly after Nicky's birth, he somehow found out where Eleanor had been hiding. He visited the midwife, demanding the baby. The midwife told him the baby had died with Eleanor. But Nic didn't believe her. He told her he'd found a family that wanted the baby—a family willing to pay for the baby—and he wanted 'the kid.' That's what he called Nicky—'the kid.' Not 'my son' or 'Eleanor's child,' just 'the kid,' like Nicky was nothing." Lydia's voice quivered with indignation, and anger swelled in Micah's chest toward the unfeeling man. How could anyone see his own child as merchandise to be placed on an auction block?
"For nearly two years, he periodically went to the midwife's home, badgering her for information. With Father's help, she finally moved to escape his constant visits. And it worked. For a while. It's been almost a full year, but recently he found her again. She said he acted wild and desperate. She was afraid—for herself and for us. He wants Nicky."
Micah stared at her. "Surely he can't still be hoping to sell Nicky?"
"Why not? Nicky is young. Someone would surely take him." Lydia's voice rose passionately. "Nic moves in circles we would rather didn't exist. If he didn't sell Nicky to a family, he'd find some other way to make money from him. If he didn't have a plan for selling him, he wouldn't be trying to find him. We know he doesn't want to be Nicky's father. If he legitimately loved him and would care for him, I'd probably give Nicky up. It would be hard, but I would do it because I believe as Nicky grows older he's going to need a father. I won't be enough." She uttered the last sentence in a harsh whisper. "But I can't let Nic take him only to sell him to strangers, or—or—whatever he has planned. I can't, Micah!"
Without conscious thought, Micah pulled Lydia against his shoulder and rubbed her back. Her muscles quivered beneath his palms and he sensed she battled tears. But she didn't allow herself the privilege of completely breaking down. After a few moments, she pulled away, offering a weak smile.
Embarrassment welled. Why had he embraced her? He didn't need to give her ideas. Years ago, Lydia had harbored affection for him, he knew. It wouldn't do to encourage those old feelings to blossom. Yet, oddly enough, knowing how unselfishly she had turned her world around for her friend's baby had ignited something within his own heart. But he had no time for such thoughts. His patients and Jeremiah needed him.
Micah squared his shoulders and assumed a businesslike tone. "How many people know Nicky is really Eleanor's baby?"
"Four." Then she grimaced. "Well, five. My parents, the midwife, of course I know—and now you."
"You're sure the midwife hasn't told anyone?"
"Father pays her well to keep silent. She depends on the income. She won't tell."
"Eleanor's parents don't know?"
Lydia shook her head. "Shortly after Eleanor's death, they were in an accident. Her father was drunk and ran off the road. Both he and Eleanor's mother were killed."
So much tragedy. "And no one has ever questioned how you came to have this child?"
Lydia turned her gaze to the lights of the city glittering below. "Father said to let people believe Nicky is my child. Father is well respected, and since I had been away, the story was plausible. I'm sure there are those who disapprove, believing I had him out of wedlock, and they no doubt whisper about me behind my back, but Father's standing in the community keeps them from being openly judgmental."
"In other words, you're living a lie."
"Only to protect Nicky."
Micah didn't respond. A lie was a lie, and someday—maybe quite soon—this one was going to trip her up. "What does it say on Nicky's birth certificate?"
"He doesn't have one."
Micah shook his head, certain he hadn't heard correctly. "Doesn't have one?"
"There hasn't been a need for one. Father thought—" She paused for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust Micah with the rest. Finally she sighed, threw her hands outward, and said, "Father thought eventually I would marry, and when I did, we'd get a birth certificate made with my husband's name listed as the father. There!"
Micah blew out a breath. "Your father is really full of plans, isn't he?" He couldn't hide his sarcasm.
"I'm sure Father hoped, from what I wrote in my diaries, that the feelings I had for you were reciprocated and perhaps some affection still remained. I'm sure he also hoped once you met Nicky, you'd be taken with him. Nicky is rather hard to resist."
Micah couldn't refute that—Nicky was a very likable little boy. But he wouldn't validate what Allan Eldredge had done. "It was wrong of him to bring me here, Lydia. It was deceptive, and it only served to create another problem."
Tears trembled on Lydia's eyelashes. "Micah, what you have to understand is we've lived in fear for the past three years that somehow Nicky would be taken from us. Father should not have dragged you into this, but his having done so only proves to me how frightened and desperate he is. He loves Nicky as his grandson. He can't bear to think of losing him. Neither can I." Her voice broke.
Instinctively Micah reached for Lydia's hand. He linked fingers with her, offering comfort. "I understand your fear and worry. But, Lydia, you can't continue to mislead everyone." Micah shifted slightly on the seat, his knee bumping against hers. "If nothing else, Nicky deserves to know the truth. Do you ever plan to tell him about Eleanor and the sacrifice she made to bring him into the world? And you're going to need help from legal authorities if you're going to protect Nicky from his father. You've got to go to the police if this man is making threats."
"I can't!" Lydia yanked her hand free. "Don't you understand? The courts will take Nicky from me if we admit I'm not his mother. I won't risk losing him."
"But all of this will eventually unravel, and you could end up losing him because of your deception."
Lydia ran both hands through her hair, then held the strands, her elbows splayed outward. "No one can find out Nicky isn't really mine. The only solution is for me to provide a father for Nicky. If I have a legal document—a birth certificate—stating I am Nicky's mother and another man is Nicky's father, then Nic will have no claim to him." She dropped her arms, clasping her hands together once more. "So I have to do this, Micah. If I don't, Father will never forgive me." She brought her hands beneath her chin in a prayerful position. "Micah, will you marry me?
Sweet Sanctuary
- Genres: Christian, Christian Fiction, Fiction, Historical Fiction, Historical Romance, Romance
- paperback: 352 pages
- Publisher: Bethany House Publishers


text: Quote: Originally Posted by azlawndawg This yard front and back is a total of 10442 Sqf. of turf. Will be cut with a 21" walk behind due to to land scaping and small hills that a riding mower can bottom out on and scalp that section of turf. Back yard is tri-leveled which will mean that the mower will have to be picked up and placed on the elavated area to be mowed. the turf will also be at 3" per the request of client. What would be your bid to mow and blow? 2 hours of edging, 2 1/2 hours of mowing trimmed 3 hedges. By the time I was through, it was about 110 degrees (Noon). It was getting hot. Not to complain, Do you think $200 a month is worth it?


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Decksaver protective covers are tailor-made to exacting standards to fit the Pioneer DJM 350 mixer like a glove! Rather than using cheaper inferior acrylic, each Decksaver cover is made from polycarbonate and made to fit your Pioneer DJM 350 as closely as possible. Great care is taken to trim each Decksaver Pioneet DJM 350 protective cover to achieve the best possible fit and still leave all your cables in place.
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What started as a simple string and pedal sales catalog has grown exponentially over the past thirty years. The early days were a time where catalogs didn't have much of a presence in the industry, but what began as a college dorm room operation grew rapidly. In 1986 we moved to a full product offering and 64-page catalog, which over the years has grown to 162 pages. Join the AMS family and get your free catalog now!
Copyright © 1996-2017 American Musical Supply, Inc. All rights reserved. American Musical Supply reserves the right to correct pricing and/or product specifications in the event of typographical errors found in our print catalog or on our website. If a product is listed at an incorrect price due to such errors or because of inaccurate information received from a supplier, American Musical Supply shall have the right to refuse or cancel any orders placed, whether or not the order has been confirmed and your credit card charged. If your credit card has already been charged for the purchase and your order is canceled, American Musical Supply will issue a credit to your credit card account in the amount of the charge.


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R.A.W. - New Video
A new trailer has been released for Realms of Ancient War (R.A.W.) with an accompanying press release:
R.A.W. Realms of Ancient War unveils more in video
R.A.W. – Realms of Ancient War, the explosive Hack'n'Slash for PlayStation® Network, Xbox LIVE® and PC developed by Wizarbox, today immerses us in its heroic-fantasy universe through a minute of video sequences!
This video presents us a bit more the rich universe of R.A.W., in which you will take control of a powerful warrior, a dark sorcerer or a stealthy rogue, before throwing yourself in a big, action-rich quest!
The first few sequences of the video, more contemplative, let us appreciate the diversity and richness of the game's levels and environments. These sequences quickly turn into pure action, while the 3 heroes of the game face swarms of creatures and huge bosses. All the power they have been granted, their powerful spells and devastating abilities will certainly not be too much for them to complete their grand quest!
R.A.W. – Realms of Ancient War will release on PlayStation® Network, Xbox LIVE® and on PC early 2012.
- Watch the video
- Visit the official website
Information aboutGeneral News
SP/MP: Unknown
Setting: Unknown
Genre: RPG
Platform: Unknown
Release: In development


text:
I Drunk Dial
Personal Stories, Advice, and Support 16 People
Only OnceMy first night drinking I was at a friends house and there were a bunch of people there. I only knew one, lol. So I'm talking to these guys, telling them about the boyfriend I had at the time. They didn't believe I had a boyfriend who lived in another country. So I'm like, "...
Melody08 18-21, F 2 Responses 0 Mar 25, 2008
I Don't Drunk Dial.It sounds fun, but I don't like people enough to drunk dial them. If I had, I would be bitching to them on their voice mail.
ShirtlessBetty 26-30, F 1 Response 2 Aug 1, 2011
After a Small Bottle of Vodka My Mobile Phone Is My Best Friend!Yes...I'll call her. She'll love it. All problems will be solved. I am at that witty stage of drunk. My enunciation seems good to me. -Hmm...but should I really? Remember what happened the last time? -Then again this time could be different. ...
ICantHelpMyself 22-25, M 3 Responses 1 Jan 24, 2008


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Physical Fitness is a MUST!
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December 6, 2011, 03:36 PM
Senior Member
Join Date: November 15, 2007
Location: Outside KC, MO
Posts: 10,128
Re: MS, true, it sucks. My friend's thinking was on the lines of:
1. Vanity - she could (and did) still look good.
2. Mobility - she would keep it as long as she could.
3. Optimism - if they could ever discover a cure for her nervous system, she would have less muscular atrophy to overcome.
Another example that leaps to mind is my former senior aikido sensei (then a godan, but I think he is now rokyudan) in Orlando. In his 70's, suffers from myasthenia gravis, yet as of a few years ago was still leading a large dojo and traveling the US to conduct seminars. Might still be, but I haven't seen him for a few years.
Again, it's easier to make excuses; it's even easier to convince oneself that something isn't worth the effort - defensive mechanism so the ego doesn't have to consider that it might be lazy.
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TIME.com: What is the likelihood that the parliament will approve a declaration of war?
Dejan Anastasijevic: I don't think that they will approve it. The declaration of war would effectually give the power to the president and Prime Minister. It's politically a very volatile, complicated situation, and nobody wants to see the power concentrated in too few hands. It is a matter of trust.
And you don't think that trust is there?
No. I don't see a critical mass of political players from any party in Macedonia trusting the Prime Minister enough to give him this power.
I think that what we have in Macedonia is a government crisis in general. The coalition is not working very well; the Macedonian and Albanian parties are not communicating well. We have a very complicated situation, with not only a rivalry between ethnic Macedonian and Albanian representatives in the government, but also rivalries within those groups.
When the leadership asked for a declaration of war last month, international officials poured in to dissuade them do you expect a similar chain of events this time around?
I think the same thing will happen now. I expect a sudden surge of diplomatic activities.
What about the coalition itself? Is the unity government going to survive this latest turn of events?
Although the coalition is surviving, even now the government isn't functional anymore. It appears that they may be unable to save the country from the spiral of violence. The second question is answered, no.
The bottom line is that they're not really communicating with each other. None of the parties are communicating with each other. And it's not really ethnic in the sense that you have the Macedonian bloc and the Albanian bloc. It's everyone against everyone. So we have a very divided and dysfunctional government in charge of a country which has a crisis situation. That's the trouble.
How about the people of Macedonia. Is the insurgency growing on the ground?
There's more fighting. And every single casualty, no matter on which side, fuels more animosity and more fighting in the future. The government has failed to achieve a short-term solution, which would at least calm the situation on the ground, and as a result of that I'm afraid we'll have more fighting and more political instability in Macedonia.
Do you see any possibility of an improvement in the near future?
I'm afraid not. I would very much like to be wrong in this, but what we have is a very divided government, which has already failed on a number issues from basic security to economy, and which doesn't enjoy very much trust among the general population. And on the political ground level, we have a low intensity conflict verging on a full-fledged war. So when you put it all together it doesn't bode well.


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Subjects taught at LSE | Services and divisions (administration)
All research groups | Research subject areas
Professor Erik Millstone
University of Sussex
Date: 9 February 2010
Time: 1:00pm - 2:30pm
Venue: CARR Seminar Room, G305
For several decades, policy analysts and sociologists of science have been arguing that, in policy contexts, scientific representations of risks (and benefits) are invariably framed by prior assumptions about what counts as a risk, what should count as relevant evidence, and about how evidence and uncertainties should be interpreted. Those assumptions are moreover non-scientific, normative and socially-contestable. In the early years of this decade the Codex Alimentarius Commission that, under the auspices of the World Trade Organisation, sets base-line standards for internationally traded food and agricultural commodities, introduced a key innovation - the concept of 'risk assessment policy', which constitutes the first official acknowledgement of the fact that scientific risk assessments are framed by such prior policy considerations. Moreover, in August 2007, all member states of Codex, (i.e. all members of the United Nations) acknowledged that all individual jurisdictions should provide their risk assessors with explicit risk assessment policy guidelines. The implications of that innovation, and progress towards the implementation of those provisions, will be outlined and critically assessed.
About the speaker
Erik Millstone is a Professor of Science Policy at the University of Sussex, leader of the Environment and Energy group at the Science Policy Research Unit (SPRU) and Director of Studies for the MSc programme in Public Policies for Science, Technology and Innovation. His first degree was in Physics; he then gained three post-graduate degrees in Philosophy. Since 1974 he has been researching into the causes, consequences and regulation of technological change in the food industry. From 2004 to 2007 he lead a comparative study of the relationships between science and food safety policy-making, looking at the global Codex-based regime, as well as the UK, USA, Germany, Japan and Argentina.
Recent publications include: The Atlas of Food: who eats what, where and why, E Millstone and T Lang (eds.), Earthscan London and University of California Press, Berkeley; Risk-assessment policies: differences across jurisdictions, Institute for Prospective Technological Studies, Seville, Spain, EUR Number: 23259 EN, April 2008, available online|; 'Risking regulatory capture at the UK's Food Standards Agency?', The Lancet, Vol 372, 12 July 2008, pp. 93-94; 'Can food safety policy-making be both scientifically and democratically legitimated? If so, how?', Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics, 2007, Vol. 20, pp. 483-508; 'Mad Cow Disease - Painting Policy-Making into a Corner' with P van Zwanenberg, Journal of Risk Research, Vol 10, No 5, July 2007, pp 661- 691.
Use of this website is subject to, and implies acceptance of, its Terms of use (including Copyright and intellectual property, Privacy and data protection and Accessibility). The London School of Economics and Political Science is a School of the University of London. It is a charity and is incorporated in England as a company limited by guarantee under the Companies Acts (Reg no. 70527).The registered office address of the School is: The London School of Economics and Political Science, Houghton Street, London WC2A 2AE, UK; Tel: +44 (0)20 7405 7686