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City Hall

City Hall42

Location: Center Center City, Broad and Market.  More specifically, 1 Penn Square

Date of Construction: 1871

Finished: 1901

Style: Second Empire

Architect: John McArthur Jr.

City Hall is Philadelphia’s centerpiece.  Located at Broad and Market, this is in the exact center of the city, as a major Municipal building should.  But Philadelphia’s is different as it is the tallest habitable masonry building in the world.  At 548 feet, it was the tallest building in the world from 1901-1906, passing the Ulm Munster in Germany and was passed by New York City’s Singer Building, which was torn down in the 60’s.  It is also universally known that 1901-1987 no building in Philadelphia could be higher than the statue of William Penn.  It was broken after the construction of One Liberty Place in 1987.

But City Hall is a wonder nonetheless.  The massive stone structure, taller than the Great Pyramid, is decorated inside out with ornamentation, with statues and flags and anything else, heck, even gargoyles, surrounding the building’s dominant exterior.  Inside of City Hall next to the tower is a large, open courtyard, which really feels like the French palaces Second Empire style came from.  There are large turrets on the other side of the courtyard from the tower, which emphasize this.  The ground bears a compass showing the directions, north and south to Broad, and west and east to Market.   (though that may not be entirely accurate, it’s close enough)  City Hall has massive size, making everything else seem smaller by comparison.  Even from inside, the 500 foot Ritz Carlton Residences and the 450 foot PNB (-less) Building seem so small with just around 100 foot City Hall (not counting tower) around you.

The bell tower is a record holder, being larger than Big Ben and largest clock in the world 1901-2010.  The facade of the tower has gargoyles and columns all around, and with an observatory at the top.  The bell tower is best viewed from Broad, even from all the way at the Sports Complex, the bell tower simply stands like the Arc de Triomphe of Broad Street.  The whole structure is ridiculously ornamented, and the tower adds to the grand nature of the building.  And most famously, the 37-foot statue of William Penn is the tallest statue in the world to be placed on the top of a building.  Penn faces the Northeast and Fishtown, Kensington, Port Richmond, that direction.  A multitude of statues adorn the facade.

The “Curse of Billy Penn” is fake.  Notice how no one talked about it until the Phillies made a playoff run in 2007.

There is a statue of John Wanamaker, across the street from Wanamaker’s.  As most statues say on the plaque, eg. Revolutionary War Hero, Wanamaker’s gives him the title of “citizen”

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Educating children in Architecture. XXth architectural narratives troughs toys design

ETSAB building
My article, presented at the  International Workshop COAC-ETSAB Barcelona 2014 in Barcelona, Spain is finally available on line.

Teaching processes are, since renaissance, created and supported in order to develop specifically skills for a small part of the society. Otherwise, education can be considered as a larger type of processes that, according to E. Morin, “preserves, memorizes, integrates and ritualizes a cultural heritage of knowledge, ideas, values; it regenerates while re-examines, updates and transmit; create knowledge, ideas and values that return to the heritage”.
In this theoretical framework toys are considered as educational devices and a part of a materialistic culture that contains educational, artistic and ideological values. Through toys it is possible to map which part of each culture wants to be preserved and transmitted to the following generation.
From this point of view architectural toys are quite fruitful because represent not only architectural paradigms as languages and technics but also dwelling models and habits or, in some examples, urban design or territorial organizations.
This article attempts to organize the narrative lines that exist in the background of architectural toys production and design during the XXth century that are, according to the author, quite coincident with the architectural production changes.

Please enjoy your reading!

Download the full article here.

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Brubaker recital proves eclectic, hypnotic, and timeless

Bruce Brubaker blurred history and styles at Jordan Hall Thursday. Bruce Brubaker blurred history and styles at Jordan Hall Thursday. (Dina Rudick/Globe Staff)
By Harlow Robinson
Globe Correspondent / February 12, 2011

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Pianist Bruce Brubaker has mused that “all music is new music. It’s just that it ages and eventually becomes something we think we know.’’

The smartly eclectic program of his recital at Jordan Hall Thursday illustrated this notion. “Classical’’ works of the 19th century gently rubbed shoulders with “new’’ music of diverse vintage, casting a hypnotic spell of New Age serenity over the small but earnest audience.

Brubaker, chair of the piano department at New England Conservatory and a noted keyboard provocateur, set a mood of poetic reverie with John Cage’s “Dream.’’ Composed in 1948, it unfolds softly over about seven minutes in what sounds like scales, with few chords, moving slowly through patterns that recall the “Gymnopédies,’’ of Erik Satie.

To follow, Brubaker cleverly sandwiched two etudes by Philip Glass with two pieces by Robert Schumann. From the Glass Etude No. 5, he glided into the Schumann Fantasy Piece, Op. 111, No. 1, then slipped back into the Glass Etude No. 4 and finally sailed forward (or backward?) to the Schumann Op. 111, No. 2. History and styles blurred, merging into a kind of universal music beyond time.

The Boston premiere of “Drones and Piano,’’ by composer Nico Muhly, concluded the first half. Like Brubaker, Muhly is a crossover musician comfortable in diverse musical environments. The “Drones’’ arise from an iPod recording bearing various weird sounds (knocking, buzzing, rhythmic punctuations) and a viola intoning distorted open fifths. Meanwhile the pianist performs from a score but improvises the coordination between keyboard and iPod. The result is something like what Brubaker has called sonic “graffiti’’ splashed across a wall of music, although the effect would have been more dramatic had the piece been shorter.

In the second half, Brubaker returned to Glass, for “Wichita Vortex Sutra,’’ for piano and narrator. Mark Mobley (formerly of NPR’s “Performance Today’’) recited with robust enthusiasm the exclamatory text by Allen Ginsberg, about a revelatory road trip across Kansas during the Vietnam War. For a finale (or anti-finale) Brubaker tiptoed through Alvin Curran’s “Inner Cities II,’’ an introverted study in four-note phrases with minute variations. So little happens over its 25-minute span that the tiniest variation feels like an earthquake.

As an encore, Brubaker offered a sly slow-motion rendition of one of Schumann’s Op. 12 Fantasy Pieces. It seemed only fitting that he chose “Warum’’ — “Why?’’

Harlow Robinson can be reached at

At: Jordan Hall, Thursday night


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not in the stars but in ourselves

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Jim's not sure why his door chime is ringing at this hour, but it must be important. Captain's privilege, he thinks wryly and pulls on his pants.

It's Uhura standing outside, looking nervous. "Captain, I-" She stops. "Sir, I need to speak with you urgently about a personal matter. May I come in?"

"Of course." He gestures her in. "What's going on?"

"It's Spock. He's acting very strangely. He's acting almost emotional. And he won't tell me what's going on - he just says that he will not speak of it and that there is nothing to be done. I thought he might have said something to you." Uhura doesn't wring her hands or fidget, just looks him square in the eye and waits.

It's a reasonable assumption. Jim and Spock have moved from adversaries and grudging partners to friends and steadfast backers over the course of the past year. If Spock were going to confide in anyone besides Uhura, it might very well be Jim. God knows they spend enough time with their heads together, murmuring in each other's ears and plotting to save the day, enough time testing each other's intellect with three-dimensional chess and those weird holographic puzzles. But Spock's said nothing to Jim that would account for his strange behavior.

"I've noticed it too, I think - it's like he's just on the edge of losing it, right?" Jim paces as he speaks. "And then he overreacts and goes all vacant. Hmm." There's something there, something niggling at Jim's brain. He cards through associations until he finds a set of memories that are in his possession but not his - Ambassador Spock's. Memories of a time of heat and hazy loss of control and a desperate, tearing need to return to Vulcan. To the place of koon-ut-kal-if-fee. Damned if Jim knows what that means, but perhaps Spock will explain if prompted by Jim's partial knowledge. Or perhaps more of the other-Spock's memories will surface.

These memories aren't clear like the other ones, though. The most desperate ones are full of lust and fire; some other, less panicked moments match the slip-and-retreat pattern Jim's just described in their Spock. What's true of all the memories is that they're tinted in a way that the other-Spock's memories never have been before. These memories don't want to be examined closely: they're shameful.

Jim comes back to himself and finds Uhura's steady gaze still on his face. "Captain?" she asks.

"I think I've got something, Nyota." She looks irritated at the familiarity, as though they haven't already passed a year of Jim taking liberties with her given name. "What? I think this situation calls for first names - you call me Jim, I'll call you Nyota, and we'll both call Spock Spock."

Nyota sighs. "Do you have something other than my name, Jim?" She leans on his name just like she still leans on the word "Captain" in all but the most serious situations. Jim is coming to gauge the severity of their trouble by the reduction in sarcasm from Nyota.

"I think -" He pauses. It's hard to speak of it, but the shame's not his, dammit. "Does 'pon farr' mean anything to you?" He's almost certain that "koon-ut-kal-if-fee" won't, but then again she's a xenolinguist. If he can't dredge it up, he might have to ask about that one too.

Nyota furrows her brow. "I saw it in the Vulcan manuscripts I studied at the Academy, but it's untranslated. I was told only that it was a private matter."

Jim searches the memories that are his and not his. This wasn't something the other-Spock was eager to share with his Kirk, but not because of the shame that accompanies the loss of control. The barrier here is cultural, the deepest type of taboo. It's not comfortable to voice what he knows - it feels like trying to talk about his dad, kind of, like the time Jim wrecked his stepdad's car and they only talked around the reasons why - but Jim pushes ahead. The taboo's not around grief but around sex, and Jim Kirk is more than qualified to shatter that one. "If I'm getting this right it's, maybe, like the heat that some Earth mammals experience. A drive to mate, I think. But only once every seven years. And" - here's the crux of the matter, he can feel it - "it's coupled with a drive to return home to the traditional grounds, at least for the first, uh, occurrence. Well, in the other universe that's what it is, anyway. And something about the old dialect of Vulcan. I'm having a strong memory of T'Pau speaking the old dialect, like maybe a ceremony. You remember T'Pau, right? The Vulcan leader who turned down a seat on the Federation Council."

"I saw that on the news. What would she have to do with Spock?" Nyota gives Jim a puzzled look, but he doesn't have any answers for her. She drops her eyes, considering. "I speak old Vulcan, at least. But Vulcan has been destroyed. How can any Vulcan return anywhere?"

"I don't know." Jim shakes his head. The memory's receded for now, but maybe they've got enough to go on. "Let's go see Spock. You know where he is?"

Nyota nods. "I came here from his quarters. He threw me out - he's never done that. All I did was ask what he needed, and..." she trails off. Jim's never seen her look uncertain like this before. She turns away from him and starts off toward Spock's rooms.

They walk wordlessly through the corridors, lost in their own thoughts. It's not a long walk; Jim could wish for more time, but these memories don't feel like the kind of thing you want to dive into in front of the crew anyway.

Finally they're standing outside Spock's door, squaring themselves, when Nyota suddenly asks, "What is that smell?"

Jim looks at Nyota, puzzled.

"It's - it's me. I smell-" she pauses, sniffs. "Musky. Does this condition of Spock's affect humans?"

Jim laughs. It's inappropriate, and he knows it, but he can't help himself. "I don't know. I suspect the only one who could answer that question is Spock's mother." They pause, sadly. "She was quite a lady, but I'm not sure how we could have asked her, anyway. 'Ma'am, do you find that you become musky when -' well. Doesn't work."

Nyota gives him a soft smile. "I would have liked to have known her better. I met her once, you know. At the Academy."

"Yeah. Me too. She was touring classes. She popped her head into my diplomacy class. I thought our instructor was going to faint - the wife of the Vulcan ambassador, deciding to sit in! She told us something I never forgot. She said that you must never underestimate the power of an honest word and an open hand. And then she taught us how to curse in Yiddish, because the universal translator doesn't render it quite right - it's the best way to let off a little steam without getting yourself in too much trouble. I met her before I met Spock, actually. I imagine it was different for you." Jim grins at Nyota and is relieved when she smiles back.

"Spock introduced us when she came to have lunch with him one day after class. He called me 'the finest xenolinguist of the cohort,' and she pressed my hand between hers and said she expected great things." Nyota's face is still, her mind far away. Then she looks back at Jim. "She taught you to curse in Yiddish? I never knew she spoke Yiddish."

Jim opens his mouth to explain, but he's hit with a wave of memory that has nothing to do with Spock's problems.

He's looking at an other-Kirk with an older face and unruly hair, one his memory identifies as 'Jim' with utmost warmth, joking with a delicate silver-haired woman. They are laughing and exchanging guttural fricatives, completely at ease with each other and delighted by the company. He turns to the older Vulcan - Sarek, his father - and feels the edge of his mouth turn infinitesimally upward. Sarek lifts an eyebrow. He can almost hear the fond reprimand: 'An expression of amusement, my son? Or pleasure? And yet there are few who could withstand our lovely mates, so perhaps it is allowable.'

The corridor is too empty and too quiet when Jim surfaces. Anything would be, after the moment he just witnessed. The woman in it must have been Spock's mother, Amanda, as she would have lived to be. He leaves the memory-Sarek's imagined remark alone for now; he's not prepared to deal with the reference to "mates."

Nyota's looking at him, slightly concerned. "Jim?" She says his name like any other, no hint of sass or contempt - he must have really freaked her out.

"Sorry. Just remembering something. Anyway, she was a linguist - Spock's mom was. I think that's how she and Ambassador Sarek met, working on the translation protocols for Terran Standard to Vulcan and back."

"I wish I had known her better. I wish I had known that about her. Spock speaks of her so seldom, still." Nyota blinks rapidly.

Jim has to break the mood. "Wow, Nyota," he drawls, "I think we just had a moment there." She collects herself and snorts at him; Jim thinks Mission accomplished and adds, "Anyway, enough stalling." He rings the door chime.

No answer.

They stand there, awkwardly, as a minute stretches into two. Jim thinks about command codes, but he's not really here as a captain. So instead he turns to Nyota and mutters, "I don't suppose you know the override, do you?"

She nods and leans forward to key it in. The doors swish open; they exchange glances before stepping through together. The air is hot and dry, nothing like the soft, humid air of Jim's Iowa summers. It's so dark inside that it's disorienting, but Nyota knows where to go even in pitch blackness. Of course she does. The thought only stings a little, that this is a place she knows and he doesn't.

Spock is seated in a meditation pose, eyes closed, but he senses their presence anyway as Nyota draws near. "You should not be here," he rumbles.

"Spock, we want to help you."

"Yeah, Spock, and you need it." Jim is pleased when it's his voice that gets Spock to lift his head and open his eyes. Now that he's adjusting to the dimness Jim can see how spartan Spock's quarters are - less to worry about if this comes to a fight.

"Captain. What is your part in this?"

Jim uses the smile that gets under Spock's skin as much as anything could and says, "I have these memories. From my mind meld with your other self. Spock, you're in pon farr, aren't you?"

Spock is angry and it takes all Jim's concentration not to step backwards as Spock flows to his feet and hisses, "You should not know of that. We do not speak of it with outworlders. We do not even speak of it amongst ourselves."

"Yeah, well, one universe over you did." The thrice damned shame paints everything Jim calls up from the other-Spock's memories, still, and it's not Jim's shame. He refuses to be held hostage to it. "And I got some of it, but you're going to have to do the rest so we can help you. I've got secondhand memories of what this was like for the other you, dulled by a lifetime's distance, and I still think it would drive me mad. What is it you need? To mate?"

Spock looks down, and if he were human Jim would say it was in shame. "Yes. It is a primal time, a return to the old ways. I am afraid I shall be reduced to little more than animal passion, rutting and snarling, until it passes."

"Spock, you know I'm always up for a little rutting and snarling." Spock and Nyota snap their heads around to look at him after that one. "What? You know what they call me. Skirt-chaser, short-chaser - what's one more 's' word between friends. I can be a Spock-chaser." Jim's not really surprised how appealing the prospect is, once he looks at it. It is sort of a surprise that it hasn't come up already; they've all served together for a year now, and Jim's not blind. Ghosts of the other-Spock's feelings chase through Jim's brain, deep affection and respect shot through with physical attraction. It's a weird experience, Jim's appreciation of this Spock underpinned by the other-Spock's feelings for his Kirk. His feelings. Jim can't think about it now.

"It is not that simple." Spock wrenches them back to the matter at hand. "I was - bonded - to a Vulcan woman when we were children. We were to be wed upon my first pon farr."

Nyota gasps. "You were- And when would you have told me about this?"

Spock looks desperate now; Jim's unnerved by the naked emotion that keeps showing on Spock's face. "I had hoped to be spared this. I had hoped my human side would keep this in check. I was in error."

Jim looks over at Nyota as she swallows and asks, "And where is this woman now? Who is she?"

"She was T'Pring. She died with the destruction of Vulcan." Spock pauses to collect himself, then says, "I cannot return to the traditional grounds of my family. T'Pring is gone. I must seek to control this through meditation." Spock holds up a hand before Jim can say anything. "It has been done, by a few. I cannot say more. I have said too much already."

Jim moves forward into Spock's space. "Dammit, Spock! Don't give me the 'outworlders' line - your other-self left memories of this time in my brain, so clearly another you has spoken of it with, you know, me. I want to help you, but I can't do that without your participation. Why meditation? It's not like you aren't in a relationship."

"Because I cannot trust myself in this state! There is no bond between myself and Nyota, not a telepathic one. I will not force myself upon her in any way." His voice drops. "I do not know how this can be endured without the ritual to guide me. Jim, I dare not involve her, or you."

"No bond? What-"

Jim cuts off Nyota before she gets the words out. Spock's mention of T'Pring conjures the other-Spock's memories up again and draws one to the surface. "It's a telepathic bond, Nyota. It's - 'always touching and never touched,' right Spock?"

Spock furrows his brow. "It is unsettling that you know this, but it is not forbidden to speak of such things - although we rarely do so. Yes, a light telepathic bond, a precursor to the permanent bond that may be assumed."

They've done this before - an overtone on this thought suggests the other-Spock's wry feeling that surely Jim would say 'a hundred times' although he knows it to be many fewer than that - many times, more often than could ever have been expected. The meld between their minds runs along well-established paths. It is satisfying to fit their thoughts together in this more permanent fashion. More than that, it is comforting. Now they will never be disentangled. Dire circumstances resolve themselves and pon farr fades away, but no longer will the end of danger mean the withdrawal of this beloved counterbalance. Jim's mind is bright, joyful and quick against his where his own is cool, measured, but no less swift. The emotional flood is known and expected, as is the love. He sends back his own love in return.

Jim is getting sick of these snatches of memory ambushing him. He sets his jaw and looks Spock in the eye. "Bond or no bond, I want to help you, Spock."

Nyota pushes her way forward, past Jim. "We want to help you," she says firmly. And then she slips into the old, old Vulcan dialect, the one Jim can hear T'Pau using in his memories. "I would please thee, Spock." Jim is amazed to find that although he couldn't speak old Vulcan to save his life he knows what Nyota is saying, maybe because other-Spock's memories of this time are so strongly laced with this dialect. She continues, "I would be with thee. We would be with thee."

Jim's double take at Nyota's plural would be funny if anyone were watching, but no one's attention is on him. Spock has lifted his eyes to Nyota's face with an intensity of focus that Jim's never seen on him before. Nyota's got two fingers out in the traditional Vulcan gesture; something in Spock must snap because he completely ignores her fingers to lunge at her face, locking them in a hungry kiss. Nyota gets right with the program, one hand mussing Spock's perfect hair and the other sliding down his back to cup his ass. Jim sees one of Spock's hands slip from Nyota's face, heading down to her breast, and then the roaring in his ears rises and he's lost in another memory that's not his.

Heat and passion and terrible need, need to mate or to kill, all of it filtered through the sound of his own blood pounding. Dimly he hears T'Pau speaking with Kirk, explaining that he - the other-Spock - is deep in the plak tow, the blood fever. That he will not emerge until he has purged it through sex or combat, or he will die of it.

This Spock rips Nyota's uniform from collarbone to hip, exposing that prim white underwear that she evidently still chooses, and Jim shakes his head to clear it. He shifts his weight, tries to subtly adjust his pants, and wonders if it's wrong for him to be so turned on. He'll blame the implanted memories if anyone asks. Nyota's holding her own, backing Spock inexorably toward the bed, and Jim swallows and brushes his knuckles lightly over the bulge in his pants. He groans; he can't help it.

Spock turns toward Jim. His eyes are rolled back in his head, only the whites visible, but he sniffs and he must smell Jim's arousal because he flings a hand out in just the right direction. Jim can't resist. He steps forward and places his hand in Spock's, rests his other hand on Nyota's back, and for a moment they press their three foreheads together and breathe each other's air.

Then it's Jim in one of those devouring kisses with Spock. He's not sure how Nyota survived this experience, but it would be a good way to die so he's not complaining. Sounds filter past the consuming slide of Spock's tongue against his - a zipper's clicking, stressed fabric giving way, harsh panting breaths. When Jim opens his eyes again he sees that Nyota, beautiful resourceful Nyota, has torn her uniform the rest of the way and removed Spock's pants to boot. Jim grins at her and murmurs, "I guess I'm overdressed." He steps back to attend to that, to give her access to Spock again.

Spock's fingers, hot on the pressure points of his face, stop him. They've done this, the other-Spock and other-Kirk, and Jim's melded with the other-Spock, but he and his Spock have never. Spock's other hand is on Nyota's face - a three-way meld. The other-Spock's memories rise up, this time not from that first terrible pon farr but from later ones, the loss of control no longer terrifying and uncertain but instead a relief. The mind meld, the mutual pleasure, the seeking of joyous release with one's mate. This is what they were and are and will be in that other universe, the other-Spock and Jim's own other-self: mates, bonded for life, touching and touched and two-made-one in a way that Jim can only imagine. It scares him for a moment.

What Spock's doing now isn't a permanent bonding though. Jim knows in his soul that Spock would never do that impulsively. A mating requires contemplation, time, stability, and above all the informed and willing participation of all parties. This has to be a temporary meld to see them through this pon farr only. Still, Jim realizes that this will change them all; he and Nyota will share the most intimate experience of Spock's life. Somewhere, Jim is sure, the other-Spock is pleased.

Nyota looks at Jim through the corner of her eye, uncertain but trusting. He holds his hand out to her, low and subtle, and then they both feel Spock's mind sliding into and between theirs. Jim can feel the waves of gentle love between Spock and Nyota, exasperated affection rolling from Nyota to him and his own respect for and attraction to her answering. Between himself and Spock is something familiar and foreign, something that resonates with that other universe. It is everything in the meld, love-exasperation-respect-affection-attraction, and more: a rightness, a fit Jim's never felt before, save for in those strange and telling memories the other-Spock left behind. There's no room for surprise in it, just recognition. Nyota's eyes close, a little sad, and Jim squeezes her hand. Can't fight destiny, he thinks.

Spock removes his hands from their faces, but the bond remains. Other-Spock remembers this and so Jim knows what is coming: pleasure shared will be pleasure tripled, between them. He thinks that if he were Vulcan, this would be worth waiting seven years for. Hell, as a Human it's probably worth waiting seven years for.

Jim leans in to kiss Spock, get this party re-started, and the ghost sensations layering over his own senses make him moan out loud. It gets better when Spock reaches for the button of his fly, his zipper, and Jim can feel the brush of Spock's too-hot fingers against his belly and the cool metal in Spock's hands. When Nyota slides Spock's forgotten shirt up to place her slender fingers all over his torso, Jim squirms in pleasure, seeking more sensation. Spock draws back from the kiss to quirk an eyebrow and whisper, "Patience."

Nyota's on him before Spock can say anything more, and Jim's almost glad of the break to undress himself; he's not sure he could handle ghost fingers, his and not-his, easing his cock out of his pants and dropping his underwear to the floor. It's a relief to do it himself, kicking off his boots and stepping out of the puddle of clothing. He pants through the phantom kisses, peels off his shirt and shivers in the heat. Spock has his mouth to one of Nyota's breasts and if watching him tongue her nipple wasn't hot enough the link between them sends a bolt of arousal straight through Jim. He'd always known that women like their nipples played with and now he can feel exactly why.

The back of Spock's legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down hard, tangled in the remnants of Nyota's dress. Thank goodness Spock had been barefoot when they came in or he'd be trapped now, pants around his ankles and no focus left to fix it. Jim steps forward and eases Nyota's dress off, unclasps the bra that Spock has left askew and watches it fall gracefully down her arms. She's still wearing her panties and those amazing black boots - God bless Starfleet uniforms, Jim thinks - and now she's pulling Spock's shirt over his head. Jim just wants them all naked, now while he can still figure out how to unzip a boot. The sensations of clothing sliding off are a gentle susurration on his skin, her skin, their skin.

Once her boots are gone Nyota shucks her underwear and, to Jim's amazement, Spock reaches out immediately to work a thumb over her clitoris. The analogue in Jim's body feels like a firm hand stroking the full length of his dick in a way that some how runs deeper, back into the cradle of his hips. Nyota smells fantastic, and Jim clearly knows now what she'd meant by "musky" - her arousal is, as Spock might have said on any other day, olfactorily apparent. She joins Spock on the bed in a controlled fall. Spock takes advantage of the movement to slide a finger into her with a slick sound; Jim thinks that at least naked he'll be saved the indignity of coming in his pants.

He still might come without anyone's hands on him, though. Spock obviously knows Nyota's body well. Jim gasps along with her as Spock crooks his finger just right and sensations reverberate from Nyota through Jim - evidently through Spock too, judging by the way his balls draw up. It's a weird sort of orgasm when it happens. Neither Jim nor Spock do more than leak a bit in outward sign of Nyota's pleasure, but Jim feels some of the familiar bonelessness come over him. He unlocks his knees and falls to the bed where Spock and Nyota are, three lines parallel and yet touching nonetheless.

He cannot get enough contact with Jim, can't possibly kiss every centimeter of this dear man's body in time, although in time for what he could hardly say. A Human life is so short next to a Vulcan one. It is illogical to allow this to distress him - facts cannot be anything but themselves - so he does not allow himself to anticipate what will come. The fact of now is all that matters, here in this moment of release. He lets himself be driven forward by hormones and need; he leaves aside his logic and trusts that it will be enough. Every touch of his lips on Jim's skin blooms on his own as well. The bond between them thrums with pleasure.

They wrap themselves around each other in a hot press of torsoes, hands exploring and skin dragging stickily as they shift. Spock is everywhere at once, driven and just shy of frantic. His hands are on Jim's hips with crushing pressure as he moves Jim along the bed. Nyota groans along with Jim as Spock inhales deeply and takes Jim's cock in his mouth. She refuses to be neglected, though, leaning over Spock to kiss Jim and letting her breasts fall in to his waiting hands. Jim's concentration is shaky at best, but he wants to give her more of what he felt earlier so he slides a thumb over her other, neglected nipple and marvels at the sensation that races through him as it tightens.

There's a distracting sense of pressure on the inside of his cheek, weight on his tongue - Spock's mouth filled with Jim's dick reverberating through the meld, as is Spock's obvious pleasure in his activity. Nyota's making a mewling noise and Jim's surprised to realize that his other hand is on her other breast, massaging gently and sliding his palm across the already erect nipple there. Spock pulls off of Jim's dick to moan with them, and Nyota - where does she find the presence of mind? - reaches down to tweak Spock's nipples and make him arch up off the bed. Jim is beginning to feel seriously cheated on the personal nipple-sensation front, although this second-hand situation is working out well for him. He pinches his own nipple, just to try, but it's nowhere near what he gets from these two.

Nyota's smiling at him when he looks up - she's noticed his experiment - and she tilts her head toward Spock's face before leaning over and grasping the base of Spock's dick in one hand. Jim took xenobio at the Academy, just the one required course, but still enough to know that Vulcans have green blood. That doesn't stop it from being at least a bit surprising to see that Spock does indeed have a green penis, a green tinge to his hardened nipples, and even a green flush on his cheeks. Cupping one of those cheeks, reveling in the echo on his own face, Jim bends to kiss Spock's open mouth. There's a phantom hand on Jim's cock and the puff of his own hot breath over his face. Jim cannot tell whether his lips or Spock's are dry, so he laves both with his tongue.

Spock's hands are stilling; he seems less desperate, as though he knows that they've got him. He's flat on his back and subject to two of Starfleet's finest, fisting one hand in the sheets and dragging the other from Jim's head to Nyota's and back again. Jim thinks Spock must be close to the edge. He almost loses it himself, though, when Nyota lifts herself up and slowly takes Spock into her. There are no hands on Jim any longer, but the phantom sensations are more than enough - penetrating and penetrated, he feels them both as she moves. Every time the head of Spock's penis hits Nyota's g-spot Jim feels it in the head of his own cock and right behind his balls. It's fantastic. Jim throws his head back and gasps as Nyota orgasms again, around Spock this time, and Spock comes at last. It takes the edge off the drive, finally. Jim feels as relieved as if he'd had the best orgasm of his life, even if he is slouched on Spock's bed with his erection waiting unattended. It's not a shock any more to feel the tendrils of other-Spock's memory twine through his brain.

They have long practiced this, in the heat of pon farr and the cool leisure of their daily lives, but every time is still as satisfying as the ones before it. He forces himself to go slowly for Jim's sake, sliding one slick finger into him and stroking for the prostate, adding another when Jim gasps and pushes back for more. The stretching is almost meditative; he distances himself from his own need and thinks only of Jim's pleasure and its echo in his own body. Jim groans and throws him a look when it's time; he can feel that now the moment is ripe and so he concurs, unable to wait any longer, sliding his lubricated penis deep into Jim. He moves swiftly, smoothly. Jim's tight heat wraps around them both, the firm length of him fills them both; it does not matter whether the sensation is immediate or relayed. At his age the pon farr is less overwhelming and so the urgency does not entirely drive him to sacrifice finesse. He can afford to move slowly at first, gradually hastening until he drives into Jim hard and fast. The bond will ensure that it remains pleasurable for both. When they reach their shared climax at the end of the long build, he pulls out of Jim and lays himself down. Jim's body is thickened with age, his hair shot with grey and his face lined; these things do not matter. Jim is no less his because time has passed. He lifts two fingers in the age-old gesture and traces the lines of Jim's face, transmitting wordless love and gratitude. It is not expected that a Vulcan should experience and share such things with a Human. It is unthinkable that he could forgo this.

Jim's half wanting Spock to do him as that scene fades from his mind's eye, and half afraid that they wouldn't make it to the good part at all before he lost it. He sits there, thinking, and it feels like he was under for hours in that other universe where he and Spock - the other-him, the other-Spock - have done this countless times. It can't have been hours, though; he can't even have sat there for very long before Spock raises his head, calmer but still unsatisfied. Jim knows at once that they've done the right thing, doing this as three rather than two. Nyota's fallen back, exhausted for the moment, but Spock is moving forward like a great cat and pressing Jim down under his body. They kiss sloppily, necking rather than dueling as they had earlier, and Jim can't say whether he's more surprised to feel Spock's erection rising again to rub along his or to note that his Vulcan First Officer is giving him a hickey. There won't be any hiding this one, either - it will bloom right over his pulse point, well above the collar of his shirt. Nyota rubs the corresponding spot on her neck in sympathy and mouths "Small price." Jim has never found her more brilliant.

Spock finishes his work on what will surely be the largest hickey ever to grace Jim Kirk's body and reaches down to wrap one hand around both their dicks, stroking firmly and perfectly. They're all on the edge of orgasm; Nyota's breath is coming quickly, in time with the resonances of sensation from their bodies. There must be something left in Jim's mind from the memory that passes over along with the physical affects, because Nyota's suddenly sneaking up on them. She has her fingers in her mouth, and when she takes them out they're covered in saliva. They're lubed in saliva, Jim thinks, just in time to catch a glimpse of her over Spock's shoulder as she leans down and slides one slim finger into Spock. Nyota rubs her clit with one hand and hits Spock's prostate with the other. Jim can't say if it's actually possible, but the cacophony of pleasure, tripled between them, seems to feed back on itself. The intensity of it all makes him white out as Spock gives a final firm pull on their cocks and Nyota presses down on her clitoris, shuddering into another orgasm.

Jim feels wrung out in the best way when he finally comes, his semen and Spock's mingling on his chest before Spock collapses heavily onto Jim. Nyota slumps at their feet, grinning as Spock buries his nose in Jim's neck and shoulder, inhales deeply, and then falls asleep. All the remaining tension leaves his body at once. Jim can feel that same tension seeping out of his shoulders; he can't tell if it's a ghost of Spock's felt through the meld or if it's his, but it doesn't really matter. Nyota moves to help him roll Spock off him, and they slip off to the bathroom to clean up. She wets a cloth and wipes down his chest, kissing him softly as she finishes. Jim rinses it out and goes to clean Spock off as well, dropping the same kiss on his cheek. Spock's snoring.

Nyota's clothes are totally destroyed, and Jim's not sure where his are. On balance, it seems easiest just to stay where they are. None of them are expected on duty for another two shifts, and Spock's bed is big enough for three if they squeeze. Nyota curls along one side of Spock and Jim takes the other, Spock's sleeping form a solid pressure against his side. The sensations of the meld are fading, Jim notes with relief and regret. Surely that means the dangerous part of all this is over.

He remembers this, too, from the other-Spock's memories. The quiet aftermath, the sure knowledge of one's best beloved close by, reckless passion tucked away for another seven years. By all rights these things should belong to Nyota alone in this universe; Jim had them for a lifetime in that other time. Perhaps that means that this is for him in this universe too. The other-Spock seemed to feel that an element of destiny was at work, and Jim's experience in the meld bore that out. Like a dislocated shoulder snapping back into place, his mind and Spock's fit smoothly together. All the accumulated pieces of the past year together assemble inevitably to this.

Jim turns his head to look across Spock and sees Nyota gazing back at him. Not a shoulder, he thinks, maybe, but a triangle. He smiles at her, tired and pleased, and she lifts one hand to stroke his face. In the morning, Jim thinks, they'll see what the shape of this is.


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Bishop’s Address of 1937

The Rt. Rev. Middleton Stuart Barnwell

Bishop M.S. BarnwellThere is little to report to the Convention in the way of official actions since the last Convention. This last Convention was held in May and most of the confirmations for 1936 were completed by that time and our spring visitations for 1937 have not yet begun. I spent the early part of the summer at two of the four camps held at Camp Reese. The latter part of the summer I was abroad, returning home early in September. After preaching at various Churches, we had our Conference for clergy and laity at Camp Reese in October under the leadership of the Rev. Arthur Sherman on the Forward Movement; and the Rev. R. Bland Mitchell, former National Executive Secretary of the Field Department talked to us about the Every Member Canvass. It was decided to hold this conference in two sections next year, one for the clergy and one for the laity, and to do without any outside leadership, depending entirely upon ourselves. Following this conference, I was busy getting into as many parishes and missions as possible to help organize the fall canvass and talking about the necessity of additional missionary enterprise up until Friday, November 13th, when on doctor’s orders I went to bed, where I stayed for a month. My strength has been coming back slowly and I believe that I am now in condition to carry on my work without further difficulty.

There have been some changes in the clergy personnel. The Rev. Mr. Barber resigned from the parish of the Good Shepherd in Augusta after many years of long and faithful service. No man was ever more true to the position and tradition of our Church than the Rev. Mr. Barber, and the ideals of Church loyalty which he planted in his people will be bearing fruit for many years to come.

To him in his retirement our best wishes go, along with our prayers for a long life of rest and happiness in the consciousness of duty well done. The Rev. Charles C. J. Carpenter resigned at St. John’s Church, Savannah, to succeed the Rt. Rev. Charles Clingman at the Church of the Advent in Birmingham, Alabama. To me personally, this move was of interest for this is the parish which I served before I went to Idaho as Missionary Bishop. Mr. Carpenter leaves a place in the hearts of the Savannah people which it will be difficult to fill, but the Rev. Ernest Risley has come to us from the Diocese of Pittsburg, has been received with great happiness by our Diocese, and has already endeared himself to us in many ways. We look to see him carry on Mr. Carpenter’s work successfully in every way. The Rev. Mr. Lawrence Fenwick of the Diocese of North Carolina was called to the Good Shepherd, Augusta, to succeed Mr. Barber, and is at work winning his way into the hearts of his people. The Rev. John A. Wright resigned at St. Paul’s, Augusta, to accept Christ Church, Raleigh. He will be succeeded by the Rev. John E. Hines who comes to us from Hannibal, Missouri, and takes charge of St. Paul’s February 1st. Mr. Hines is a man well steeped in the traditions of the South, having received his collegiate education at Sewanee and his theological education at the Virginia Seminary. He has been West for only a few years, and we welcome him back into this part of the world. He has made a brilliant record wherever he has served and we look to see him successful in filling the great vacancy that Mr. Wright’s going has left in our diocesan life.

In the mission field there have been no great changes. We have been unable to expand the work because of lack of added income, and our returns from the Canvass last fall are as yet incomplete, and we are not able to say just what advance can be made during 1937. There have been one or two changes in missionaries’ fields. At the request of the people in Douglas, the Rev. Stephen Barnwell has been placed in charge of that field along with Fitzgerald, which he was already serving; and Dublin and Hawkinsville are being looked after through occasional visits of the Rev. Mr. Danniell of Savannah. The most promising work in Hawkinsville I believe is the colored work which under Dr. Tracy and Miss Ada Speight has prospered. I am asking Dr. Tracy to prepare his papers for admission to the diaconate. It is my hope that he will be able to fulfill the conditions required by Canon Law, as his usefulness will thereby be greatly extended. At the request of Archdeacon Brown, I am transferring Miss Ada Speight to the Savannah field to assist in developing young people’s work in the colored churches in this area, and also to assist Archdeacon Brown in the rural work at Burroughs. Her special training should be of great value to us in these particular areas.

As I outlined in my last Convention Address, I am very anxious to put a missionary at Statesboro who can look after the scattered communicants all the way up the highway to Dublin, but this depends entirely upon the receipt of additional income during 1937. I am frank to say that I do not know what we shall do unless there is provided additional salaries for at least two men, as we have two splendid young men graduating from the Theological Seminaries this year, and we cannot afford to have them lost to the Diocese of Georgia.

Most of our discussions at gatherings of this kind have to do with Church finance, and Church finance is a very important consideration because the gift of money is after all the gift of human life that went into the money’s making. And then the giving of money is a symptom. In a sense it is sacramental. It is the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, and unless that inward and spiritual grace is present, it is useless to talk about money, and if it is present, it will not be necessary. The chief thing to which we as leaders of the Church should give ourselves is the development of the religious life first within ourselves and then within our own people, in sure confidence that as loyalty to Christ deepens the earthly needs of His Church will be provided for.

With this point of view, we look towards Lent, now almost upon us, and I ask that you go back to your respective fields planning additional services, resolved to be more zealous in pastoral visiting and more courageous in meeting the difficult problems of personal evangelism which sometimes have to do with embarrassments of private life. True missionary work is not merely holding stated services at mission points but seeking out the indifferent and the lost, and this is the most important work that any clergyman is called upon to do—this is the work for which he was ordained. I can understand, though I do not agree with, people who turn their backs upon the Church and are hostile to it, but I cannot understand people who are members of the Church, who believe in what the Church teaches, and then do nothing about it. One of two things is true. The Church is either the most important institution on earth, or it is nothing at all. If its claims are false, it should be cast out and forgotten. If its claims are true, then it has within its keeping that which alone can solve the pressing problems of human life. To this last position, we of the Church are unalterably committed, and I ask that you examine your hearts to see if you are prosecuting your work as one should do who is offering to the world that which alone can save it from itself in this world and for itself in the world to come. There is no problem of human relationship, no struggle between class and class, no strife between labor and capital, no hatred or war between nation and nation, that the spirit of Christ living in human hearts cannot overcome. Christ alone can solve these problems. We have in trust for the world that which the world will die without. This constitutes an obligation to more zealous service in parish life, more zeal in Church extension, and more consecrated loyalty in carrying Christ throughout the world, that He may motivate the lives of wicked men. This is what we mean by missionary enterprise. It means building Christ into human life in Georgia, the nation, and the world.

Again I call your attention to the opportunity which so many of you are missing in not developing a greater interest among your people in the camps at St. Simon’s Island every summer. We have provision in these camps now for every type of Church member except the babies. We have one camp for little boys, one for little girls, one for the Young People’s Division, and one camp for adult members. Our accommodations are convenient with private rooms in comfortable cottages, and in every instance we have splendid leaders on hand for the morning lectures with something worth while to impart. Last year I attended the young people’s camp as well as the camp for adults, and I plan to do the same thing again this coming summer, and I look forward to these camps as opportunity given me to know my people better. There are young people and adults as well in every parish and mission in our diocese who need just exactly what these camps can give, and I earnestly plead that you will make a greater effort to interest them in what we have to offer. The charges are most reasonable, and in these days of good roads, transportation is no problem at all.

I call your special attention to the two conferences that are to be held this fall to carry out the original intention of the Diocesan Convention at Americus. This Convention which we are now attending is the business session of the diocese, and it is our purpose to get all the routine business matters out of the way as early in the year as possible. The conferences this fall will be for instruction and inspiration. We will have the laity over some week-end in October, to be determined later on, and the clergy at a similar conference during the week. I attended a laymen’s conference last fall in the diocese of South Florida. There were nearly one hundred laymen present at that conference which lasted a single day. If we could secure one hundred parish leaders in Georgia for a Sunday conference at Camp Reese where we could lay before them the practical problems of the Diocese, I am sure it would result in great good for the parishes and missionary work as well. I wish that you clergymen and you laymen would have these conferences on your minds and remember them in your prayers, and let us see if this fall we cannot make a new beginning in diocesan loyalty.

(The Bishop’s address concluded with a tribute to the life and services of Bishop Reese. This tribute is printed on the page devoted to the Memory of Bishop Reese.)

BISHOP OF GEORGIA. 1908 — 1936

On December 22nd at 10:40 o’clock in the evening in the city of Savannah Frederick Focke Reese, the fourth Bishop of Georgia, entered Paradise. He had been the Bishop of Georgia for more than twenty-eight years, having been consecrated in Christ Church, Savannah, on May 20th, 1908. Bishop Reese was born in Baltimore, Maryland, October 23rd, 1854. He studied at the University of Virginia and the Theological Seminary at Berkeley, and was ordained a Priest of the Church in 1877. After serving in Baltimore, Virginia, Christ Church, Macon, Christ Church, Nashville, he was elected to the Diocese of Georgia in 1907, and served with loyalty and faithfulness ever since. Up until very recently he retained the full vigor of his younger days. He was a preacher of great power and fearlessness. He had an abiding faith in God and his fellow men. His sphere of influence went far beyond the limits of this Church. He was a stalwart champion of the religion of Christ as this Church hath received it. This world is the richer for his life and the Church Triumphant is richer for his entrance into it. Long will his shining light remain an example to those of us who are left to carry on his work. May he go from joy to joy in the Life Everlasting.


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Waha Nui

Carol Chang
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December 28, 2011 - MidWeek The Islander
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Angela Britten

Castle High alumna Beatrice “Tippe” Morlan is a fullfledged author at age 21. A USC graduate and now master’s degree student at BYU, Beatrice co-authored the book Thais in Los Angeles. It’s available from amazon.com and will tell you, and show you, everything you want to know about Thai Town in L.A.

Beatrice is the daughter of a Thai immigrant mother and a Caucasian father ... Angela Britten of Kailua is the new development director for Hawaii Theatre Center, bringing plenty of marketing experience to the job. Angela’s also a paddler with Kailua Canoe Club ...

Kaisah Kaaihili of St. Anthony School in Kailua has won the District 50 Peace Poster contest ($300), with Pali Lions Club as her sponsor. Stay tuned for how Kaisah does in the Lions International level, with the theme “Children Know Peace” ...

Senior basketball player Sam Spengler of Le Jardin Academy is one of two state winners in the Wendy’s High School Heisman Award Program for 2011. It honors students who “embody the Heisman spirit of hard work and dedication through their outstanding achievements in athletics, academics and community/school leadership.” Sam won a silver medal, a Heisman patch and $50 Wendy’s gift card ...

Terry Ogimi

Jan and Judy Dill paid an emotional visit to St. Mark Lutheran School with Gail Omoto recently. The three collaborated on the 2007 book Kai, the Opihi Gets the Point, which Judy read to a student assembly at the school her five children once attended ... Terry Ogimi of Kaneohe has rejoined Graham Builders, this time as a project manager. He started with the company as a carpenter foreman in 1999. Terry also coaches plenty of youth baseball teams ...

Kaneohe singer Brianna Abregano landed a principal role in the DisneyWorld show, Spirit of Aloha, now playing in the park’s Animal Kingdom. Brianna, a 2011 Kamehameha graduate, also won the 2010 Hawaii Brown Bags competition ...

Not only has Warren Stenberg jazzed up his website, the Kailua artist spotted his 2009 painting, “Mt. Olomana, Waimanalo Backroads View,” in several scenes of The Descendants (perched on George Clooney‘s living room wall)

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AREA (Architecture Research Athens) is an innovative architecture office in Athens, Greece. It was founded in 2006 by the architects Styliani Daouti, Giorgos Mitroulias and Michaeljohn Raftopoulos. Recent projects include the Marc Jacobs stores in Athens, the Paars store in Kolonaki, the award-winning Kardia housing development proposal in the North of Thessaloniki, the third prize for the Hellenikon Metropolitan Park and Urban Development project in Athens and the award-winning proposal for summer residences at Skroponeri. For more information visit our website at

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

Mars 96 - The Last Russian Mission to Mars

Credit: NASA

Nine days after the launch of Mars Global Surveyor, Russia launched Mars 96, aka "Mars 8." This was an extremely ambitious mission, and was the heaviest interplanetary spacecraft ever launched. Intended subjects of investigation included the Martian surface and atmosphere, the inner structure of the planet, solar plasma studies (especially of the sun's and Mars' magnetic fields), and astrophysical studies, including the study of cosmic gamma ray bursts. Mars 96 had several components, including an orbiter based on the Phobos orbiter design, two surface stations that were to land in separate locations on the northern hemisphere of Mars, and two penetrators, which would separate into two pieces upon impact. Both pieces had scientific equipment in them. The forebody was to penetrate up to 5-6 meters beneath the surface, while the afterbody would remain near the surface and transmit back the data.

Mars 96 lifted off on November 16, 1996 on a Proton 8K82K/11S824F rocket. This is a four stage rocket in a configuration that had flown only twice before, launching the two Phobos spacecraft. The rocket performed properly up to parking orbit. However, the planned second burn of the Block D-2 fourth stage shut down prematurely after a 20 second burn. Mars 96 and its Fregat module then automatically separated from the Blok D-2. The latter seems to have fired (as planned earlier), placing Mars 96 into an orbit that deposited the spacecraft into the Earth's atmosphere. Mars 96 burned up, falling somewhere in the vicinity of Chile, Bolivia or the Pacific Ocean off the Chilean or Bolivian coast. The Block D-2 re-entered on a later orbit.

Mars 96 is, to date, the last Mars mission undertaken by Russia/Soviet Union. The Soviet Union tried to send a total of 18 missions to Mars and the Russian Federation, one. Of all nineteen missions, none could be considered a complete success and only five a partial success. Even of those five, it is difficult to say which was the most successful mission.

The above image is a NASA computer-generated model of the Mars 96 (Mars 8) Orbiter.

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PURIFOY, CLIFTON W. - Yavapai County, Arizona | CLIFTON W. PURIFOY - Arizona Gravestone Photos

Clifton W. PURIFOY

Prescott National Cemetery
Yavapai County,

b. Aug. 25, 1911, Ark.
d. May 10, 1962, Prescott, Az.
s/o William & Alice Ethel (Silliman) Purifoy

PFC HQ Co 10 Tank Btn. - WW II
Enlisted: May 13, 1942, Camp Robinson, Little Rock, Ark.

Section 2 - Row J - Site 043

Contributed on 2/1/05 by jlwight
Email This Contributor

Record #: 18600

Thank you for visiting the Arizona Gravestone Photo Project

On this site you can upload gravestone photos, locate ancestors and perform genealogy research. If you have a relative buried in Arizona, we encourage you to upload a digital image using our Submit a Photo page. Contributing to this genealogy archive helps family historians and genealogy researchers locate their relatives and complete their family tree.

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10U Storm Marches on to Regionals!

Updated Friday July 21, 2017 by Beth Jones.

The 10YO Arlington Storm clinched a birth in the Babe Ruth Southeastern Regional Tournament in Williamsburg with a second place finish against Williamsburg in the Virginia State Tournament this past weekend.  Their wins were marked by come-from-behind victories and late inning drama.  In all five of their games, two or fewer runs separated the Storm and their opponents when entering the sixth inning.  In the bottom of the sixth in the semifinals, with the infield pulled in, shortstop Mason Bodnar threw out Glen Allen's runner who was attempting to tie the game at the plate.  With this 12-11 victory, the Storm clinched the Southeast Regional Bid.  Charley Callen, Will Evans, Will Tallon, Jack Rubin Kieran Sacks and Mason Bodnar all batted over .400 for the Storm.  Callen led the way with a .588 batting average and 6 RBI's.  Will Evans led Storm pitchers with 0 earned runs over 6.2 innings of work.

Read more about the 10U journey through the state competition in the Sun Gazette.


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 Electrical Contractors - Armed Consumer

Armed Consumer DVD & Web Site - We Protect and Inform Consumers Before Hiring Professionals

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Electrical Contractors

The National Electrical Contractors Association (NECA) is a good tool to use in finding an electrical contractor. Once you find one, you can use the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) web site to check their qualifications. The site lists union shop contractors across the U.S. If you need a non-union contractor, visit the Independent Electrical Contractors (IEC).

If you have more than one electrical project to finish, save yourself some money and time by combining the jobs. It’s also a good idea to determine a budget, or rough idea of what you want to spend, on the project. Although you may have to go up to 20% over budget, it’s a good starting point when you begin the interviewing process. If you just have one very small project, you may just need an electrician as opposed to an electrical contractor.

If your project is large, you may wish to have an architect or engineer provide specs before you begin meeting with electrical contractors.

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guest blog / Julia Black: Stark the halls!

We all appreciate the elbow grease behind planning a really fabulous party. From weddings and bar mitzvahs, to red carpet galas and grand openings, orchestrating and executing a positively memorable soirée takes talent. So as the season creeps up and you’re realizing it’s your turn to play host/hostess, who better to turn to for inspiration then one of New York's most esteemed party planners, Mr. David Stark. David is an extraordinary designer who’s been creating hot ticket parties for over twenty years, and now - for the second holiday season in a row - his distinct approach for transforming everyday materials and spaces into complete magnificence can be yours. The David Stark Holiday Collection is available at your favorite West Elm store, and this time Mr. Stark has repurposed recycled paper and cardboard, and even vintage garden books, into garlands, trees, and witty objects and accents to help you create a brilliant party. Furthermore, the collection is distinctly eco-smart and eco-chic. Careful though, by adding Stark to your halls you might just be voted into another hosting gig sooner than you’d like. Check out the video below to see how the collection came about.

To read more posts from Julia click here, check out her cool blog click here, and click here to see her new Get Fresh online videos for CTV!


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Re: More FTP Trouble?

Lile Elam ((no email))
Mon, 11 May 1998 15:22:00 -0700 (PDT)

Hi all,

Yes, it was another case of hung ftp processes. Seems they
mostly belong to one artist who is coming in from over seas.

Am watching the problem...

In the meantime, ftp to should be working again. I
removed the hung processes late last night.


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Wholesale Retail Stores About Designers educators Blog Contact us

This is our fabulous team of Endorsed Educators. Each of these educators have been trained and certified by the lead team, they've played extensively with the products and teach classes frequently. If you're interested in someone teaching at your store or event please feel free to contact any one of them or contact the office at info@artanthologyinc.com

Stayce DeWid
Owner/Director of Education

I'm a California native currently living in Huntington Beach, CA. I'm married to Jimmy and together we have 5 children, a granddaughter Isabella and a grandson Reef.

I've been scrapbooking for 11 years. I also owned a scrapbook store for many years before moving on to teaching and owning my own manufacturing company. I worked with Creative Imaginations for 5 years creating catalog projects, booth projects, booth projects and teaching with their products. For 3 years I was also a Golden Ambassador, Lead educator and education coordinator for Tattered Angels LLC.

My teaching abilities have taken me to so many fantastic places around the globe. I'm fortunate to have taught from the East coast to the West coast and in several foreign countries. I love sharing my love for papercrafting with anyone that will listen. I've been published in several publications such as Memory Makers magazine, Scrapbooking and Beyond magazine and Gift Maker Magazine.

This amazing industry has now taken me to the the next level of owning my own manufacturing company.I'm blessed to have created an extraordinary product that is now the core of Art Anthology.

I can honestly say "I'm living the dream"

Roxanne Dondanville
Lead Educator

My name is Roxanne Dondanville. I live in beautiful sunny Siesta Key, FL ~The beach is my haven.        I'm a busy mom of two beautiful daughters, Tabatha and Blythe. We also live with the love of my life, Mike and his son, Ben. We are our own "Modern Family." They all are my favorite subjects of inspiration.

Because of my love of taking pictures and always having at least 2 cameras with me is why I started scrapbooking about 9 years ago. Two of my friends invited me to a crop at a local scrapbooking store and it I was hooked!  I found myself absolutely loving my new found talent for the craft.
I was on the design team for my local scrapbook store. At that store is where I found my new passion for teaching. For the last 2 years I have been a member of Art Anthology's Dream Team of Designers. And now as the Lead Educator I am looking foreword to traveling and sharing my passion for creating pretty things and sharing how much I love my craft.
My favorite things to create are mini albums, scrapbooking layouts, canvasses, cards, journals and anything crafty.


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Chicago Breaking News Articles
You Are Here: Home>Collections

New teacher's union boss vows strong stand against cuts, charters

June 12, 2010

In her first press conference as president of the Chicago Teachers Union today, Karen Lewis  promised a vigorous stand against proposed job cuts, class size increases and "so-called school reform."

"The only people who can improve our public schools are professional educators," Lewis said to raucous applause from about three dozen union members in the front lobby of King College Prep High School on the South Side.

Lewis, a chemistry teacher at the North Kenwood school, unseated two-term president Marilyn Stewart in a run-off election Friday. The Caucus of Rank and File Educators (CORE), which Lewis heads, outpolled Stewart's United Progressive Caucus by 12,080 votes to 8,326.

In a statement, outgoing union president Marilyn Stewart congratulated Lewis and promised to support the new regime.

"I ask all members of this union ... to stand behind Karen and her team and support them as they take over the fight in your behalf," Stewart  said in the statement.

On Tuesday, The Chicago Board of Education will hold an emergency meeting to consider granting the schools chief authority to lay off teachers and increase class sizes, a largely procedural move that will not immediately result in firings.

The threat of layoffs and classes with up to 35 students has loomed for months due to an estimated $600 million budget deficit at the school district. To start the process of layoffs and the negotiations with the union, the board of education must pass this resolution.

Lewis said she expected the Tuesday meeting to "be another PowerPoint presentation with no real numbers" and challenged schools CEO Ron Huberman to make the district's budget more transparent. She declined to give specifics about the board's proposal, saying only that the union "will be preparing different solutions" to the budget crunch than job and benefit cuts.

She said solutions lie not in the usual "who or what to cut but how to lower - yes, lower - class sizes."

The union, she said, is now unified and "poised to reclaim power and what we love: teaching and learning in publicly funded public schools."

She also vowed to fight expansion of charter schools and standardized tests, two parts of what she called the growing influence over the last decade and a half of corporations and profit in public schools.

"We want to put business in its place and out of our schools," she said.

-- Dan Simmons

Chicago Breaking News Articles


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Bulls, Tragedy Can`t Stop Cavs` Star

February 22, 1988|By Sam Smith, Chicago Tribune.

RICHFIELD, OHIO — It would have been easy for Cleveland Cavaliers center Brad Daugherty to let down Sunday. After all, when you play as many games as he does, how important can the one be just after your father dies?

Roy Daugherty, 60, died of a heart attack Saturday morning.

``It was on my mind,`` said Brad, who left after the game for the Thursday funeral in Black Mountain, N.C., and was to miss the team`s next two games. ``I was the youngest, and I was the one who always got the attention. But he was always an optimistic, happy type of person. I can hear him now saying, `I`m in a better place.`

``And I knew I`d get a real good kick in the butt if he knew I had my head down. He would not have wanted me to be feeling sorry for myself.``

Instead, feel sorry for the Bulls.

That`s because the Cavaliers, led by Daugherty`s 29 points and 8 rebounds, offset 46 points by Michael Jordan and held on to defeat the Bulls 113-111 before a sellout crowd of 20,089 at the Coliseum.

The defeat left the Bulls at 30-22, only 2 1/2 games ahead of Cleveland

(28-25). More importantly, it exposed a weakness that could haunt them in the playoffs: handling power teams.

The Cavaliers` front line of Daugherty, Phil Hubbard (season-high 25 points) and John Williams created problems inside for the Bulls the whole game.

``We tried everyone on Daugherty,`` said coach Doug Collins. ``He played a great game under very adverse circumstances.``

Primarily on Daugherty was Dave Corzine, who tied his season high with 21 points and led all rebounders with 9 in 37 minutes, his longest stint of the year. Corzine started instead of Mike Brown, who didn`t play after starting the last 24 games at center because the Bulls hoped to keep Daugherty distracted with Corzine`s offense.

Although Corzine was able to score because Daugherty often is assigned to jump out and double-team Jordan, the Cavs` center was equally unstoppable inside.

``They have a lot better inside players than we do,`` said Jordan, ``and they feed inside. That`s their strength. We tried to run, but we really couldn`t get the rebounds. They were getting second and third shots. We forgot to box out.``

Jordan pronounced himself recovered from a cold by scoring 13 first-quarter points.

``I knew we`d have trouble when he gets going like that,`` said Cavalier guard Craig Ehlo, who ``held`` Jordan to 28 points the last time the Bulls were here. ``I feel we played well on him today, because the way he was going, he could have scored 60 or 70.``

But Jordan`s 16 fourth-quarter points almost were enough for the Bulls to steal a game that the Cavaliers had dominated on the way to their 10th victory in the last 14 outings.

Thanks to Jordan`s fast start, mostly on jump shots, the Bulls leaped to a 27-18 first-quarter lead, their largest of the game. But with Daugherty and Hubbard posting up and banging inside (``That`s my type of game, physical,``

said Hubbard) and Ron Harper driving and getting fouled, the Cavaliers pulled ahead by a point at halftime.

Yet that seemed to bode well for the Bulls because they were outrebounded 19-10 for the half (36-30 for the game) and outshot at the free-throw line 23-9. Harper was 8 for 8 on first-half fouls shots, 13 for 17 for the day.

``The free throws definitely hurt us,`` said Collins.

Cleveland moved out quickly in the second half, running off a 14-3 spurt behind guard Mark Price, who had shot 0 for 8 from the field in the first half, and Daugherty, who scored on one sequence after grabbing two offensive rebounds.

The Bulls tried their trap but were called for illegal defenses twice and had to back off. Cleveland moved ahead by 14 early in the fourth quarter and led by 10 with 1:39 left on a slam by Daugherty. He faked a two-handed pass over Corzine, who turned, giving Daugherty room to slide around him.

With little hope, the Bulls turned to Jordan, and he almost pulled off another miracle.

Try this one-minute spree: Jordan drives for a slam, is fouled and hits the free throw; Charles Oakley steals the ball, passes to Jordan for a driving layup and another three-point play; Jordan rebounds a Tyrone Corbin miss, is fouled and sinks two free throws.

``We were one stop away from tying the game,`` said Collins. ``With 36 seconds left, we could have come down to tie.``

But Price, who had a career-high 11 assists, then hit Daugherty on a pick-and-roll, the fourth time the Cavaliers converted that play in the quarter. As Daugherty scored and was fouled, time and the Bulls` chances expired.


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Mayoral Election Set For 1989

Opponents Plan Appeal On Decision

May 07, 1988|By Charles Mount.

A special Chicago mayoral election will be held early next year to fill the vacancy created by Mayor Harold Washington`s death last Nov. 25, a Cook County Circuit Court judge ruled Friday.

Judge Eugene Wachowski ruled that the 1989 election is required on the basis of three previous rulings by Circuit, Appellate and Supreme Court judges and by legislative debate in 1978, when the General Assembly passed the current election law.

``It is the court`s opinion that the law provides for (a special)

election to be called by the election board in odd-numbered years, and in this instance it would be 1989,`` Wachowski ruled. The winner of the special election would serve two years, until the regularly scheduled 1991 city elections.

Friday`s ruling, made after about 20 minutes of arguments, dismissed a suit filed by the United Citizens of Chicago and Illinois and Kenneth R. Hurst, former 39th Ward Republican committeeman, who contended that no vacancy existed because it was filled by vote of the City Council last Dec. 2, when former Ald. Eugene Sawyer was elected acting mayor. Sawyer already has declared himself a candidate in the next mayoral election, whenever it is held.

Hurst also argued that a special election would cost taxpayers $1,000 per precinct, putting the total cost at $6.4 million for a primary in February and a general election in April.

After the ruling, Hurst`s attorney, Russell J. Stewart, said he would appeal to the Illinois Appellate Court. Regardless of the appeals court ruling, the issue is expected to go to the Illinois Supreme Court this summer. The Appellate and Supreme Courts traditionally give priority to election issues, so the case is expected to be ruled on in a much shorter time than the normal two years or more that an appeal usually takes.

Outside the Daley Center courtroom, Ald. Timothy Evans (4th), who has said many times that he is considering entering the special election, called the ruling ``a marvelous, marvelous victory for the citizens who stayed up late the night of Dec. 1, who stayed in the rotunda imploring the aldermen to listen to them. This is a marvelous victory for the people.

``This will give the people the chance to elect the mayor in a representative democracy,`` Evans said. ``I will be comfortable with the decision the people make.``

Asked if he intended to run for mayor, Evans said he was ``interested in voter registration uppermost. I want the people to let their views be known. The people will decide who the next mayor will be.``

Wachowski upheld arguments by Thomas E. Johnson, representing the Coalition to Let the People Decide in 1989, that the Illinois Board of Elections and judges at three levels of court have decided in the past that a special election should be held when a vacancy exists with more than 28 months remaining in the term.

The Supreme Court ruled that way on a Springfield case when a city commissioner had resigned with more than 28 months remaining on a four-year term. The Appellate Court similarly decided that a special election was required when a Chicago alderman resigned in the 44th Ward in 1980 with more than 28 months left.

The appeals court upheld Cook County Circuit Court Judge Joseph Schneider`s ruling that the special election had to be held on the next scheduled consolidated election dates, which in the current mayoral controversy would mean the February primary and April general election.

Johnson also pointed out that the Illinois Board of Elections had put the same interpretation as the judge in a 1979 election handbook.

The Chicago Board of Election Commissioners also ruled in 1985 that a special election was required to fill a 3d Ward aldermanic vacancy of more than 28 months and decided on April 25, after much delay, that a special election was necessary to fill the Chicago mayoralty.

``Mayor Washington died with 41 months remaining on his 48-month term, and the issue is whether citizens will have the right to vote on the person who governs them,`` Johnson said.

``Under Stewart`s interpretation of the law, there would never be a special election for mayor in Chicago. In its debate on the current law, the legislature acknowledge expressly that it would apply to Chicago when more than 28 months were left in a term.``

Johnson said he is confident that Wachowski`s ruling will be upheld in the reviewing courts.

``We had all the ducks in line,`` he said. ``We had the language of the statute, the legislative debate and case law.``

Hurst complained that Wachowski`s decision would place ``an excessive burden`` on taxpayers.

``This is going to cost $6.4 million, and I don`t hear one word about that,`` he said. ``How about using that money for the schoolchildren?``


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County rescinds workers' bargaining rights

March 19, 1997

Staff Writer

Washington County employees no longer have collective bargaining rights following a Tuesday vote by the Washington County Commissioners.

County Administrator Rodney M. Shoop said 87 unionized Washington County Roads Department, landfill and County Commuter workers are immediately affected by the vote.

The commissioners voted to give those employees the same pay raises and bonuses that other county employees received late last year and at the start of this year.

Commissioners President Gregory I. Snook said negotiations on a new contract with the workers' union, the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, had reached an impasse.

"There was a lot of requests and we couldn't meet those requests," he said.

The vote effectively eliminates unions from county government, officials said.

"What it does is it puts everybody under the employee handbook - all the employees are being treated the same," Snook said.

County Attorney Richard Douglas said that state law enabling County Commissioners to engage in collective bargaining with groups of employees says the commissioners may, but need not, engage in collective bargaining. The same section of the law also prohibits employees from striking.

The commissioners voted 4-1, with Ronald L. Bowers dissenting, to repeal collective bargaining, Snook said.

County Commissioner James R. Wade said the commissioners were frustrated that the union hadn't accepted several good-faith offers since negotiations began last March.

AFSCME negotiators had "a ridiculous attitude" and didn't understand the needs of local employees, Wade said.

"I just don't think they were getting fair representation. They were basically preventing these workers from receiving the same pay increases that other county employees received in December and January."

AFSCME staff representative Shirley Kirkwood, who had been negotiating with the county, said she believes the county had not been negotiating in good faith. "Our lawyers are going to have to look at this to see if an unfair labor practices charge is in the making. There was no indication to us that they were going to do this."

Kirkwood denied negotiations were at an impasse. She said she had planned to recommend to the workers that they accept the latest offer from the commissioners, which included the same bonuses and increases that nonunion employees received along with other changes to the contract.

"All we wanted was the same offer they gave (non-union) people," she said - a $500 addition to salary and a 2 percent pay hike. "We took everything else off the table," she said.

Bowers, a 35-year United Auto Workers union member at Mack Trucks, said Wednesday the action taken was unfortunate and premature because the membership never had the opportunity to vote on the final proposal.

Kirkwood said the union was originally willing to accept a continuation of the contract with no pay increase because of the water and sewer situation before finding out about pay increases for other county workers.

Wade said the action would also prevent other county employees from becoming union members with collective bargaining. Unless the commissioners change their minds, Teamsters Local 103 would not be allowed to organize the Sheriff's Department, Wade and Human Resources Director Alan Davis said.

"I have always been a believer that we can serve our employees better than a union can," Wade said.

Teamsters business agent and lobbyist Dale McConnell said he didn't think the county had the right to rescind collective bargaining for county employees.

"They are going to wind up in court spending an awful lot of county dollars," McConnell said.

"(Commissioners) are just as anti-labor as they can be. Anything I can possibly do to get them out of office that I can do, I am going to do."

The Herald-Mail Articles


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Missing Mom: One smoker's daughter tells her sad story

December 03, 2005|By Donna Reiff

On Nov, 9, my Mom (Becky Humphrey) would have celebrated her 54th birthday. She isn't here to have another birthday because she lost her battle with emphysema on June 13. For the first time ever in my life, I can't wish her a happy birthday. My family and I are left behind to think of her every day, to miss her, to wish she hadn't ever picked up that first cigarette and to carry on her hopes of trying to get people to see what smoking can do to someone's life.

A year ago, Mom wrote an article to influence people not to smoke. Her words were published in various newspapers across the state. Hopefully, it made a difference in someone's life. I guess you could say I'm picking up where she left off. I'm saying words that she can't say anymore. I have to do that for her.

I know we can't change the past, but I sit and wonder sometimes what our life would have been if she had never smoked. I imagine her still being here with us to celebrate birthdays and holidays, especially this time of the year.

It hurts to know that she will not be here with us any more to see my kids grow up, go to their dance recitals and ballgames, watch them graduate and see what they end up doing with their lives.

I still need my mom's advice, and I want to tell her things that happen in my life. I still catch myself wanting to tell her things that my kids have done, stories from my job and other everyday happenings that I always shared with her.

I look back at pictures of my mom, and I see the physical changes she went through because of her illness and medications she had to take with so many side effects. It had been a long time since Mom truly felt like herself. She would bruise so easily and her features were changed because of the swelling from steroids she had to take in order to keep her lungs strong. The hardest thing on all of us, I believe, was when she felt like she was suffocating. She had terrible panic attacks, feeling as if she was going to die. It's horrible to feel so helpless when we couldn't do much to make her feel better. Many times, she would beg us to help her relax enough to catch her breath. It's something I'll never forget.

Mom used to dress up every day to work at the tax office, meet lots of people and loved to go out for coffee with her friends after work. She had to quit the job that she loved and was pretty much confined to her living room once her emphysema got worse.

Once in a great while, she would feel up to going out of the house. She loved that, but it was such a chore for her to get up the strength to do it. If we could wheel Mom into the kitchen or maybe onto the deck, it was a really good day!

After Mom died, I sat in her recliner and thought about what her life was like. Her whole world revolved around that recliner. All she could possibly need or want through the day was there within her reach.

Imagine sitting in one chair, day after day after day. Imagine having to do all of your personal care right there in your living room because you simply can't get enough air in your lungs to go anywhere else.

Other than trips to the bathroom to get in the bathtub as often as she could, she stayed in that chair. She had a telephone there, but because of her tracheotomy and ventilator, she could only listen to what we had to say, and then she would beep the keypad in response to us.

I used to try and make silly sentences out of what she was trying to get me to understand, by the way. That always made her smile. It still hurts, and probably always will, when I see moms and daughters together having fun. I never really had that chance because of her illness and now I never will.

I suppose all of us have known, in the back of our minds, that we would lose her one day. She would talk about it occasionally with me, but it hasn't made this any easier on me. If only she had known how cigarettes would take their toll, not only on her, but on the people who loved her the most.

Think about those who love you most instead of only thinking of yourself when you pick up that cigarette. They are the ones left, in the end, to deal with what it did to you. And take it from me, it hurts.

Encourage your loved ones to stop smoking. For more information about tobacco prevention, contact Donna Kuhn, RESA VIII Tobacco Prevention Specialist at

The Herald-Mail Articles


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Police continue manhunt

July 31, 2006|by JENNIFER FITCH

MERCERSBURG, Pa. - Police, relying primarily on leads from the public, continued a "large-scale manhunt" Sunday for a man accused of killing his estranged wife and another man Friday.

Curtis Burkett, 41, was believed to be armed with a long rifle and in the Mercersburg area, where he lived. Pennsylvania State Police used helicopters to search the woods for Burkett, who they said hunted frequently.

"At this time, we have no reason not to believe he's armed and dangerous and in this county," Cpl. Gary Carter said Sunday at noon.

Autopsies for Cathy Burkett, 39, who was shot several times, and William Zimmerman, 50, shot once, are scheduled for 9:30 a.m. today at Lehigh Valley Medical Center in Allentown, Pa.

"They're going to be done side by side," Franklin County (Pa.) Coroner Jeffrey R. Conner said.

Police have refused to detail a time frame for the murders. They said the 911 call leading to the discovery of Zimmerman came at 7:30 p.m. and the call leading to Cathy Burkett came in around 8 p.m.

The shooting of Zimmerman near 7570 Robinson Road was witnessed, police said.

"The reason for these homicides we're still investigating," Trooper Ed Asbury said, although he said they are believed to be related to a domestic dispute involving the couple and Zimmerman.

"A week prior, Mr. Burkett was arrested for simple assault," Carter said.

A February 2006 protection-from-abuse order obtained by Cathy Burkett remained active, he said.

The couple had one child together and a second one living with them at 10601 Garnes Road in Montgomery Township, Pa. The body of Cathy Burkett was found in the home, which was later searched, police said.

Robinson Road leads to the Longview Campgrounds, where Curtis Burkett and Zimmerman are thought to have been living, police said.

Carter described the police work as a "three-tiered investigation" that strongly focuses on finding Curtis Burkett, while also investigating the Garnes Road and Robinson Road shootings on their own.

The manhunt will end with police capturing Curtis Burkett or his suicide, Asbury said.

Police emphasized that the public should report tips, but avoid Curtis Burkett.

"He shot two people," Carter said. "In our eyes, he's very dangerous."

"He has nothing to lose at this time," Asbury said.

Tips to police have been steady since the search began, Carter said.

"We get calls pretty much by the hour," he said.

Criminal homicide charges have been filed in Magisterial District Judge Duane Cunningham's office in Greencastle, Pa.

The Herald-Mail Articles


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Stadium seems like a reasonable investment

January 15, 2012|By TIM ROWLAND |

The biggest favor minor-league baseball supporters could do for themselves is to stop talking about stadiums as an engine for economic development. That’s like trying to sell a Land Rover based on its gas mileage.

It’s not just baseball that does this, obviously. Everything today is being touted as a “jobs creator,” most amusingly the ill-fated merger of AT&T and T-Mobile. For the last time that a merger of two corporate behemoths created jobs instead of destroying them, you’d probably have to go back to the Guilded Age.

The next thing baseball supporters might consider is to stop placing the weight of city viability on the stadium’s shoulders. In a time when Moses himself couldn’t part the inner-city decay, asking the Hagerstown Suns, or whoever might take their place, to be a revitalization tool that will spur a wildfire of development throughout the East End is asking a bit much.

And as long as we’re on a roll, let’s stop playing with numbers. A new or improved stadium might add a handful of people to the average attendance when the dust settles, but it is a disservice to suggest that it would be packed every night. Nor is a stadium makeover likely to make us a rabid minor league baseball town. We’re not Durham.

If we strip away all the starry-eyed projections and inflated numbers, we’re left with this:

The Hagerstown Suns are a very nice community asset that adds to the local quality of life. Professional baseball fills a few hotel rooms and gives our hotel-motel tax revenue something of a boost. The franchise provides a handful of seasonal, mostly part-time, jobs.

It brings a fair scattering of tourists to Hagerstown, those mostly being traveling baseball freaks or Washington Nationals fans who want to spend an evening evaluating the talent out on the farm.

The Suns, on any given night, provide entertainment for a couple thousand people, and your guess is as good as mine, but I’d say there’s a pool of maybe 10,000 people locally who can be counted on to attend several games or more a year.

The players also work with school children, and in a community that so frequently bemoans the idea that there’s nothing in Hagerstown for kids to do — well, yes there is.

So for the city, county and state, the question is this: Based strictly on what the Suns are, and not on what we might wish them to be, what is it worth to keep a team around?

First, the city and county have thrown a lot more in tax credits alone toward private companies that have delivered a lot less. The old pulp plant right across the street is a fine example. We get down on our knees, beg and plead, and offer the moon and stars to businesses that might promise us six employees and might be gone within six months.

The Suns have been a steady, dependable business in this community for decades. The stadium (with the team as primary beneficiary) has been improved with tax dollars, but I dare say that this money benefits a far broader swath of the public than, say, the County Commuter, or any other agency that provides services that are important to a relative few.

Very few government programs, in fact, benefit everyone, nor should we expect them to.

No one this side of Ron Paul would suggest the county bus service is a bad thing, even though the buses are seldom filled. I see the same old faces on county tennis courts, but few serious individuals would say it was a mistake to build them. When the dam at Devil’s Backbone began to crumble, we decided that the park impoundment is a valuable part of our community. If baseball doesn’t benefit everyone in the county, so what?

Sports stadiums are a convenient whipping boy for agitated taxpayers, and unfortunately this has been more the fault of the team owners than the taxpayers themselves. But most of the unwillingness to support the Suns, I would think, is misdirected anger at the billionaire owners of major city franchises.

Yes, the Suns various owners through the years have threatened to leave town (and one actually did), but heavens, what business hasn’t made similar threats when it thinks there is an advantage to be won? Anyone remember Fairchild?

We’re a long way from the glory days of the Suns, when it was a Double-A Orioles affiliate. But the community has maintained its baseball awareness, as the crowds that came out to see Stephen Strasburg and Bryce Harper will attest. With a host of budding stars, the Nationals might be poised to become the new Orioles in the community’s consciousness, and a Nationals franchise might not be a bad bandwagon for the city and county to hitch their wagons to.

But again, that’s speculation. Meanwhile, based entirely on what we know as fact, outlined in the most understated way, the stadium still seems like a reasonable investment on which to spend a reasonable amount of money.

Tim Rowland is a Herald-Mail columnist. His email address is

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