GALESBURG — Knox College international students will come together Saturday for the school's 38th annual International Fair. Celebrating the college's over 200 students from outside of the country, the fair will bring diverse selections of food, entertainment and education.
The theme of the event is "Arts in Culture: Show us Your Colors," and will feature a cultural showcase, booths and finally an international buffet on the Knox campus driven by the efforts of international students.
"The purpose of I-Fair is to celebrate the diversity we have on campus and allow international students an opportunity to share something from home or from their community with the Knox and Galesburg communities," said Rebecca Eckart, associate director of international student services at Knox College.
The theme, Eckart said, shows the different ways culture can be expressed in art. Some clubs will show dances or songs from their cultures, while others will read poetry and demonstrate ways to make traditional art.
The cultural showcase begins with the booths fair from noon to 1:30 p.m. in the Ford Center for Fine Arts lobby on Knox's campus. Cultural exhibits organized by Knox students and student organizations will be on display for free.
At the booth fair, visitors will receive a program with a passport that they can then have stamped at every booth they visit. These passports will be used to enter the visitors into a raffle system.
From 1:30 to 4 p.m., students will enter Kresge Recital Hall for the flag parade and cultural showcase. Following the flag parade, performances of songs, dances, poetry and more will be presented, again for free.
Finally, the food fair is from 5 to 8 p.m. in Seymour Union, where cuisine from around the world will be prepared and served by students, some of whom began working on their dishes on Wednesday, when the rest of the school was shut down due to weather.
The fair will feature cuisine from Nepal, Bangladesh, South Asia, the American South, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, China, Germany, Ghana, Nigeria, Congo and West Africa, Brazil, Argentina and Mexico.
Children 5 and under will eat free, but members of the public will pay $9 at the door for a wristband.
Wristbands can also be bought in advance through the evening of Thursday, Jan. 31, at www.knoxalumni.org/IFair, at which point users will receive a receipt they can exchange for a wristband during the booths fair or during the intermission of the cultural showcase.


text:
In New Zealand, deepening despair for 'abandoned' tourism sector
"They won't sell New Zealand, they'll take us out of the brochure."
By	ranisimran	 26 Nov 2021
When New Zealand this week finally announced plans for the return of international visitors, Eve Lawrence, general manager of Haka Tourism Group in Auckland, could find little reason to celebrate.
After nearly two years of border closures that have reduced business to a trickle, Lawrence will have to wait at least another five months before welcoming customers from overseas. Even then, tourists will have to self-isolate at home for seven days — a requirement Lawrence believes will dissuade many from coming at all.
"We've lost summer this year now and potentially we're losing next summer as well because we are reliant on long lead times for people to come to New Zealand – I mean it's a long way," Lawrence said, adding that she expected travel agents and airlines not to promote New Zealand under such conditions.
Lawrence said her company, whose revenues have plummeted about 95 percent during the pandemic, was now bracing for potentially the most difficult six months of business yet.
"The last 21 months have been an absolute slog," she said.
New Zealand's decision to shut its borders in March 2020 helped the country remain largely COVID-19-free throughout the pandemic until a big Delta outbreak in September forced authorities to shift away from a "zero COVID" elimination strategy.
The South Pacific country has reported fewer than 11,000 COVID-19 cases and just 41 deaths, one of the lowest tolls in the world.
But the country's strict border policies have left it increasingly isolated as most countries apart from China reopen and try to live with the virus. While New Zealand's economy grew by 2.8 percent overall in the second quarter, there has been little respite for the country's tourism and travel sector, which before the pandemic employed more than 225,000 people and accounted for 20 percent of exports.
In May, a survey carried out by Tourism Industry Aotearoa found that tourism businesses had on average let go of 40 percent of staff and seen revenues cut in half over the previous 12 months.
On Wednesday, the Youth Hostel Association announced it would permanently close all 11 of its hostels, citing the vanishing prospects of a revival of summer travel and a pandemic that had gone on "too long for us to be able to ride it out".
Brian Westwood, the former CEO of the Youth Hostel Association, said the border announcements were a disappointment to a sector that had been "mostly abandoned" throughout the pandemic.
"It is impossible to forecast the impact as so many businesses are privately held and being propped up with personal financial, remortgaged homes and family loans," Westwood said. "Six more months with no international visitors and fewer domestic visitors is an intolerable position for many.
Our industry is innovative, our operators are industrious and sought many ways to keep their heads above water, but the rising tide of debt will simply be too much for some."
Westwood said businesses could not understand why vaccinated New Zealanders could be allowed into the country from January but not visitors from abroad.
"To restrict visitation to New Zealanders only defies logic," he said. "It is great for New Zealanders and is politically astute but it does nothing for the tourism sector."
'Smug hermit kingdom'
Under the border plans announced by COVID-19 Response Minister Chris Hipkins on Wednesday, fully vaccinated New Zealanders in Australia will be allowed entry without having to self-isolate from January 17, with New Zealanders in other countries allowed entry from February 14. Fully vaccinated international visitors will be allowed in from April 30 but will have to self-isolate for seven days.
Although New Zealand's strict COVID-19 policies have been broadly supported by the public, there are growing signs of discontent.
Earlier this month, thousands of people took to the streets in Wellington to protest vaccine mandates and lockdowns.
Although still well ahead of her rivals, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern's approval ratings have dropped sharply from record-breaking highs during the early days of the pandemic. In September, John Key, a former prime minister from the rival National Party, warned in a newspaper op-ed that the country needed to learn to live with COVID-19 and could not exist as a "smug hermit kingdom".
Michael Plank, a COVID-19 modeller at the University of Canterbury who has advised the New Zealand government, said that while there was frustration in the tourism sector, most New Zealanders supported a cautious approach to easing the border restrictions.
"We are still managing a transition away from our previous elimination strategy, through an ongoing vaccine rollout, towards more 'COVID normal'," Plank said. "Many parts of New Zealand still remain COVID-free. This won't last forever, but it is worth preserving in the short term because we are still vaccinating."
"We also need to keep an eye out for possible new variants of concern," Plank added. "Border measures could be a key tool for protecting against a potential new variant that can evade the vaccine." One can use this tool to verify any company in Newzealand like - White Cross Otahuhu.
For businesses dependent on tourism, New Zealand's isolation has already gone on too long. While Haka Tourism was able to sell a number of properties to stay afloat, Lawrence believes many businesses will not survive much longer.
"The last four months, if it has taught me anything, is they change their mind every other week," she said.
"We're using the same methods and the same tools we had in March 2020 and we're failing to adapt and change as COVID adapts and changes. I don't think that's anything to be proud of."
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


Dr. DeBell is a self described adult who has a formal education in chiropractic. He refuses to identify himself as a profession, he prefers to think of himself as the sum of life experience applied (a thought process I relate to). Dr. DeBell travels the country delivering workshops at an unbelievable clip of 30+ per year. He has created digital continuing education content for athletes and coaches, and in this workshop we talk very casually about everything from how to maintain a successful marriage with such a crazy travel schedule to how an athlete can better prioritize their training. This was an enjoyable episode to record and we will most definitely be doing another one in the future. Enjoy!


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Author interviews, short stories, extracts, features and discussion about books from around the world
"There is no centre anymore. We live in a multipolar world, and culture reflects that." Fatima Bhutto
A Writer's Life
Favourite stories
Writers' paths
Moments in literature
Bookanista recommends
Premontions
by Tove Jansson Comments
"Jansson was a genius, a woman of profound wisdom and great artistry." Philip Pullman
When I was young, a remarkable woman lived in the village where I grew up. Her name was Frida Andersson. Frida lived alone in a cottage by herself but she had a daughter and a grandchild in the city. Sometimes in summer they would come to visit, but as Frida grew more and more peculiar, they began to stay away.
The trouble was, Frida was haunted by a bad conscience. It became an obsession that no one could help her with. No matter what went wrong in the village, she thought it was her fault. When the village misfortunes were insufficient, she began to concern herself with everything she read in the newspaper, and then, of course, her anxiety became endless. Everything was her fault. It got worse and worse. In the end she just sat on her steps and cried.
I realize that this may be hard to believe, but no matter how foolish Frida's misapprehensions became, they were a bitter reality for her. It was impossible to explain and convince, and severity had no effect at all. Now, years later, it occurs to me that perhaps we should have gone along with her delusions, but we didn't. When no one agreed with her, she found comfort and confirmation in superstitious signs. A mirror is broken, two knives are crossed – there are portents and omens everywhere, if only you're sufficiently open to them and to the guidance that comes from above.
You might suppose that Frida would have been an easy target for the village children, but it wasn't like that at all. They were fascinated. Every time something bad happened in the world, the children all ran to Frida to hear the ghastly details. She had a powerful imagination and she could tell a terrific story.
I really believe that the children helped her a great deal, perhaps more than her portents.
I was seventeen at that time and of course I knew how the world worked, and almost everything else, plus it goes without saying that I liked to contradict and argue. It's amazing that Frida liked me anyway.
On pleasant summer evenings we'd sit on her front steps and she'd tell me about what was going to happen. She'd warn me earnestly about the inevitable, the threat that comes steadily closer and eventually finds its catastrophe, which must always have a reason, a cause.
"And the cause, of course, is you," I said, being sarcastic.
"Naturally," Frida said and took my hand. "You know, on Friday morning a big white bird came and tapped its bill on the kitchen window three times. And what happened? There was an earthquake in California!"
I read intellectual books in those days and launched into an explanation of egocentricity, misdirected self-identification and God knows what else, and Frida looked at me in a friendly way and shook her head and said, "You'll learn. But it will take time."
I tried to brighten her up with the prospect of a summer visit by her daughter and granddaughter, but no, the child could fall in the well or drown in the marsh or get a fishbone caught in her throat and suffocate. Then I got tired and left.
If she didn't believe in the town's warnings she must nevertheless have had her own. There was no need for her to get hit in the head with a plain old piece of granite."
That same summer, they were blasting for the new highway. It was a company from the city that was doing the work. They had a whistle they blew; then came the explosion. You got used to it.
The accident caused a sensation in the village. No one could understand why Frida couldn't stay home when the whistle sounded. If she didn't believe in the town's warnings she must nevertheless have had her own. There was no need for her to get hit in the head with a plain old piece of granite.
I went to the hospital and they said I could talk to her for only a couple of minutes. There wasn't a lot of her to see under all the bandages.
I held her hand and waited.
Finally she whispered, "What did I tell you? Now you have to believe me."
"Of course, Frida," I said. "You're going to be fine. Now you just rest and don't worry about a thing."
Then, her voice clear and distinct, Frida said, "Exactly. You know what? For the first time in my life, I'm not worried at all. It feels wonderful. And now I'm going to sleep for a while. See you later."
A whole mass of children were there for Frida's funeral. They seemed expectant. But nothing remarkable happened – except later that evening there was a thunderstorm.
From the collection Letters from Clara and Other Stories, translated by Thomas Teal
Tove Jansson (1914–2001) is best known as the creator of the Moomin stories, which were first published in English sixty years ago and remain in print today. In her 50s, she turned her attention to writing for adults, producing a dozen novels and story collections, including the classic, bestselling The Summer Book. Letters from Klara, her last collection of all-new stories, is out now in paperback and eBook from Sort of Books. Read more.
@SortofBooks
tovejansson.com
@ToveJansson1914
Thomas Teal has won the Rochester Best Translated Book Award and the Bernard Shaw Prize for Translation (twice) for his translations of Tove Jannson's fiction. He lives in Massachussetts.
Tags: Finland, Finnish-Swedish, Letters from Klara, omens, portents, Premonitions, short stories, short story, Sort of Books, summer, superstition, Swedish, Thomas Teal, Tove Jansson, translation
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Major engagement for ENZ's latest marketing campaign
Just four weeks in, ENZ's New Futures Need New Paths campaign has attracted more than 21 million engagements and 38.9 million viewers, spreading the message of how a New Zealand education prepares students for the future of work.
One of the student heroes of the campaign, Soheil Mohseni (second from right) is an Iranian student at Victoria University of Wellington.
ENZ's first marketing campaign for 2019, New Futures Need New Paths, is focussed on expanding prospective international students' understanding of New Zealand education and sharpening New Zealand's brand position.
Because of this, the campaign has been designed to focus on engaging with target audiences, says Patrick Holden, ENZ's Digital Media Project Manager.
"Already, we've had more than 21 million engagements with our digital paid media. This has come from 38.9 million viewers who have seen ENZ's paid advertisements through a number of ad placements.
"We have seen an increased overall engagement rate of 12.60% compared to 8.43% for the previous Future Proof campaign, which is a great improvement! This is because we have tweaked the style and type of campaign content to that which best engages our student audience, including using new ad placements which uses custom-fit content tailored to different channels."
The highest engagement has come from Korea, Germany and Japan. In an online website poll, more than 85% of users say they are 'very likely' or 'somewhat likely' to consider New Zealand as a study destination.
"While engagement is the campaign's primary objective, we're also achieving secondary objectives such as attracting new database leads, as a high volume of our audience are also engaging with our campaign landing page to find out more about studying in New Zealand," said Patrick.
The campaign has been integrated with ENZ's social audiences too. So far, the engagement has been positive.
A screenshot from the Study in New Zealand Facebook page.
Thank you to all our industry partners for collaborating with us on this campaign, in particular by sourcing talent.
The campaign will run until the end of May.


OPEN STONE – Standard weights are Men: 16-22 lbs., Women: 8-12 lbs. The Stone is put with one hand with the stone remaining against the neck throughout the throw until the release. Any approach or throwing style may be used.
BRAEMAR STONE – Standard weights are Men: 20-26 lbs., Women: 13-16 lbs. The Stone is put in the same way as the Open Stone, however, no approach to the trig is allowed.
WEIGHT FOR DISTANCE (HEAVY AND LIGHT) - Standard weights are Men: 28 and 56 lbs., Women: 14 and 28 lbs., Masters Men: 28 and 42 lbs., Masters Women: 14 and 21 lbs. The metal weight is attached by a chain to a handle, and thrown with one hand from behind the trig. Any throwing style may be used, typically using a spinning approach.
HAMMER THROW (HEAVY AND LIGHT) – Standard weights are Men: 16 and 22 lbs., Women – 12 and 16 lbs. The hammer head is metal sphere, which is attached to a shaft of wood, rattan, bamboo or plastic. The hammer is thrown with feet in a fixed position behind the trig, and no approach is allowed.
CABER – The caber is made from wood, of variable size and weight, with the goal that at least half of the competitors can turn it. The caber shall be placed upright before the athlete, with the heavy end on top. The athlete lifts the caber, controls it, takes a run and tosses the caber in such a way as to land on the top, pass through the vertical position and end with the small end of the caber pointing away from the athlete.
WEIGHT OVER BAR – Standard weights are Men: 56 lbs., Women: 28 lbs., Masters Men: 42 lbs., Masters Women: 21 lbs. The weight is made of metal, attached to a handle. The weight is thrown with one hand over a crossbar.
SHEAF TOSS – Standard weights are Men: 16 or 20 lbs., Women: 10 or 12 lbs. The sheaf is a burlap bag filled with a material such as straw or rope. The sheaf is thrown over a crossbar using a pitchfork.


The Tehachapi Renewable Transmission Project (TRTP) is a series of new and upgraded high-voltage electric transmission lines and substations capable of carrying 4,500 megawatts of electricity (enough energy to supply three million homes) from renewable and other generators in Kern County south to San Bernardino County. The Project is designed to provide added capacity to strengthen SCE's electrical system and also deliver clean, renewable energy to the region to help meet California's renewable energy goals. SCE has completed construction of the 173 mile TRTP electric transmission line and energized the line fourth quarter of 2016. Throughout TRTP's construction, SCE worked closely with local officials, property owners, residents, businesses and others in efforts to provide helpful project updates, minimize potential impacts and respond quickly to requests for information. We recognize that this has been a long process and thank you for your patience, support and willingness to work with SCE during the past several years. We look forward to being a good neighbor for many years to come.
The project includes transmission facilities equaling 250 miles (spanning an area of approximately 173 miles) that will deliver electricity from renewable wind energy generators in Kern County southward through Los Angeles County and eastward to the existing Mira Loma Substation in Ontario.
Southern California Edison (SCE) wants to thank the cities and community for their patience in finalizing the Tehachapi Renewable Transmission Project (TRTP), as we fully energized the 500 kV transmission line this 4th quarter of 2016. The project will provide added capacity to deliver enough power from renewable and other generation sources to power three million homes. It will enhance electric service reliability in the region and help meet California's renewable energy goals.
For general information about this project or to be added to our mailing list, please call our toll-free project hotline at 1-877-795-8787 or email us at trtp@sce.com.


Hoodsport Coffee Company is a full-service espresso cafe with a variety of espresso drinks, baked goods, sandwiches, soups, and salads. Enjoy a cup of one of our unique brewed coffee blends, a lite meal, or some delicious Olympic Mountain Ice Cream, while relaxing in our cozy and inviting atmosphere- or you can have your goodies prepared for take out! Our classically trained baristas are more than happy to custom craft your favorite espresso drink or you may prefer to enjoy some of our specialty brewed coffees. For those who prefer colder coffee, we offer a fabulous Nitro Cold Brew as well as numerous other iced and blended drinks.
Hike your way into Hoodsport Coffee Company!
We have received notable recognition on TripAdvisor for our coffee and food. We've been awarded the "Best Coffee," "Best Dessert," and most recently, "Best Place to Eat." Cool off from that hike with our unique "Olympic Mountain Ice Cream" flavors. Seattle City Voters proclaimed that we were a "Top Selling Ice Cream Shop"!
Come on in and try everything for yourself! Contact us at (360) 877-6732.


text:
package com.peiliping.web.server.proAcus;

public abstract class Producers<V> extends AbstractRole<V> {

	public Producers(String name,int concurrencyThreadsNum, IStorage<V> storage) {
		super(name,concurrencyThreadsNum ,storage);
	}

	public abstract ProducerActionThread<V> getInstance();

	public abstract class ProducerActionThread<K> extends AbstractActionThread<K> {

		public ProducerActionThread(IStorage<K> s,long sleeptime) {
			super(s,sleeptime);
		}

		@Override
		public void doAction() {
			while (true) {
				if (!getStorage().isFull()) {
					doProduce();
				}else{
					try {
						Thread.sleep(getSleeptime());
					} catch (InterruptedException e) {
					}
				}
			}
		}

		public abstract void doProduce();
	}
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Improving Your Odds (Part 3 – Full Court Press on Life)
Home/Resilience, Writing/Improving Your Odds (Part 3 – Full Court Press on Life)
This is part 20 in the series: RESILIENCE
3 Factors That Improve Your Odds of Surviving A Disaster
(Part 3 – Full Court Press on Life)
The first part of hardiness is control.
The second is commitment. It's that full court press on life. There are people who look at life and say, "Well. I'm kind of just drifting through, just trying to muddle my way through, just trying to make it happen, trying to keep my head down." That's no way to be resilient. You'll die sooner that way.
Resilient people have a full court press on life. They have a purpose in life and they are pursuing it. They are committed to living life to the fullest. Commitment in the sense that this is a person who is fully embracing life. They're not waiting for life to come meet them. They are going out to meet life. I would say it is the characteristic of taking initiative. If you've been given everything, you need no initiative.
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By Roger|July 12th, 2018|Categories: Resilience, Writing|


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MOOCs How 'open' are they? (7 dimensions)
A MOOC is open in several senses of the word but by far the most important is the idea that they are OPEN IN SPIRIT, not open in any technical sense but open in a moral sense. This means a genuine attempt to open up education to all through open access, low cost, online delivery. Access to powerful, and free at the point of access, educational tools and resources is available through Google, YouTube, Wikipedia and a myriad of other online resources. The Open Educational Resources movement also provided the ground from which MOOCs could sprout. More specifically, the Khan Academy came along with more structured video-based learning experiences. All of this was, from the learner's point of view, open in the sense of being accessible and free.
7 dimensions of openness
But openness has several other dimensions relevant to MOOCs:
1. Open access
2. Open structure
3. Open educational resources
4. Open collaboration
5. Open accreditation
6. Open source code
7. Open data
1. Open access - cost really matters
The original intention was open in the sense of access i.e. anyone could simply sign up without prior qualifications. This signaled a moral agenda about opening up education for all, freeing it from scarcity and high cost, towards a model of abundance and no cost. Cost is a big issue. There's no such thing as a free munch (m for MOOC) but education wants to be free and this is a vital condition for universal, global access. The cost is being reduced to cents/pence per learners that is a great achievement.
2. Open structure - don't copy synchronous, semester model
Many, not all, MOOCs are still tethered to the HE 6/8/10 week semester with a start date, end date, timetable and timed weekly releases of content. As the market progresses and we see that the '18 year old undergraduate' is not the audience but busy people with jobs and so on - lifelong learners. The courses are getting more asynchronous, available anytime and shorter. Coursera is still restrictive, delivered at set times, Udacity less so and EdX does have archived courses. This is good for access. Another access issue is functionality on devices, some platforms are excellent, some appalling.
The degree to which you can reuse, repurpose MOOCs and MOOC content is interesting. Many of the video resources on some platforms are on YouTube, similarly with other media shared-resources. Coursera is the least open with no open licensed content available. Udacity uses YouTube to host its videos and allows reuse under Creative Commons. EdX is more explicit stating that they hope to do much more in terms of open content.
Almost all MOOCs offer forums of one description or another but this is still quite weak. What learners have been doing is spilling out into social media and physical meetups. Interestingly the data from the six Edinburgh Coursera MOOCs showed relatively low forum use (15%) but there can be no doubt that this is a dimension in openness. One could, and some do, argue that learner created content is another dimension of openness but let's tuck it in here for the moment.
MOOCs assess and therefore accredit on a number of levels from statements of completion (fine for most), certificates of distinction, through to online and offline proctored exams. It is important not to be too hung up on closure through certification and accreditation, as the majority of lifelong learners appear not to want even certification. Nevertheless, openness of accreditation would be desirable, perhaps through OpenBadges and freeing others to accredit.
EdX have become a major player in MOOCland by making the code open source. This encourages participation, lowers costs and stimulates innovation. Openness in this sense may give them market advantage, especially as it's in line with the spirit of openness I mentioned earlier. LINK
The University of Edinburgh (LINK) have published data from their six MOOC experiment and the Gates Foundation (LINK) are funding research into MOC data. But the degree to which data is harvested and disseminated is quite sparse. This is not an 'open data' environment (yet). Questions still need to be asked about who owns what data and what happens to that data after it is collected. At the moment we have lots of bare number stats about registration, who did what, when people stopped (a category mistake called drop-out) and so on, but as many platforms are not gathering meaningful data about the learners, even age, background and so on, entrance and exit surveys are still being done. Some interesting research is starting around harvesting qualitative data from social media such as blogs, Twitter and Facebook from MOOC users. How open is MOOC data – not very.
Let's push at the door to see how open MOOCs can be. While it is important to be realistic on costs, ownership and data protection, we need to see how far we can take open access, structure, resources, collaboration, accreditation, code and data. Note that complete openness is not always a virtue. It is largely a matter of degree. The schema above could be used to score MOOCs on 'openness' but it is more important to move forward and accept that the MOOC landscape will have many players with many different models. To repeat what was said at the start, it is important to hold true to the spirit of openness, while allowing different models to flourish. To achieve this we must rise above the simple public v private, dropout v dropin, xMOOC v cMOOC dualisms. Let's not skewer ourselves on the horns of false dilemmas just as the show is getting on the road.
Al Filreis said...
In the massive open online course I have taught the past 2 years, participants are urged to participate in: discussion forums, weekly live webcasts, f2f meetups, virtual study groups, twitter feeds, a robust Facebook group and almost-synchronous office hours I and the TAs offer every week. I very much like the way the discussion spills out in all directions. It keeps the course dynamic. - Al Filreis
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text:
President's Research Fund (PRF)
The President's Research Fund (PRF) supports projects that have a strong potential for obtaining external funding for SLU investigators. Funds are used to collect preliminary data that will generate new extramural funding.
Specifically, the PRF will:
Incentivize new research of high scientific quality that is likely to secure extramural funding.
Support existing research reviewed favorably by the NIH but not yet funded.
The RPC will administer a single PRF cycle for the School of Medicine (SOM) during FY20 (Cycle 17), with a deadline of January 15, 2020, and a start date of May 1, 2020. The maximum award term is 13 months. Grant extensions will not be allowed.
The following three types of applications will be considered for funding:
PRF01 – Single PI application describing a NEW project with high likelihood of extramural funding, preferably through the R01 or U01 mechanisms. Up to $50,000 may be requested for this award.
PRF02 – Multi-PI application describing a NEW project with high likelihood of extramural funding, preferably through the P01 mechanism. Up to $100,000 may be requested for this award.
PRF03 – Existing R01 or U01 application, NEW or RENEWAL, that was scored but not funded by the NIH during 2019. Up to $50,000 may be requested for this award.
Guidelines for Cycle 17: PRF Guidelines
Applications will be submitted via the Openwater portal. To access, log in to myslu.slu.edu and click on the Openwater icon in the "Tools" tab. Use your SLU credentials to log in. The first time you log in, you will be asked to set up your profile.
Applicants should include a cover letter that justifies submission of the PRF01 or PRF02 as a NEW research project. For PRF03 grants, applicants should include a copy of the original R01 or U01 grant proposal reviewed by the NIH, a copy of the summary statement, and a description, not to exceed 5 pages, of how criticisms raised by the NIH Study Section will be addressed in a revised application.
All applications (PRF01s, PRF02s and PRF03s) will be reviewed by an Internal Study Section appointed by the RPC and chaired by the current chair of the RPC. Recommendations about funding and amounts to be awarded rest entirely with the Internal Study Section and will be based on scientific merit and likelihood of extramural funding. These recommendations will be forwarded to the Vice President of Research for final approval.
Questions about Cycle 17 of the PRF in the SOM should be directed to Denise Johnson (977-8067; johnsod2@slu.edu).
Example of a successful PRF application: Tavis PRF
Award recipients for the 2019 Cycle 16 applications are listed below.
Spring 2019 Cycle 16 President's Research Fund Awardees
Anutosh Chakraborty, Ph.D. Pharmacological and Physiological Science "Determine mechanisms that regulate the obesogenic protein IP6K1"
Colin Flaveny, Ph.D. Pharmacological and Physiological Science "Defining LXR regulation of prostate tumor immunometabolism"
Jaya Gnana-Prakasam, Ph.D. Ophthalmology "Role of iron in ketone body metabolism"
Daniel Hawiger, M.D., Ph.D. Molecular Microbiology and Immunology "Induction and terminal differentiation of effector T cell precursors"
Ajay Jain, M.D. Pediatrics "Role of testosterone in young males with non-slcoholic steatohepatitis"
Sergey Korolev, Ph.D. Biochemistry and Molecular Biology "Mechanism of PARK14/PLA2G6 activity regulation and function"
Guangyong Peng, M.D., Ph.D. IM-Infectious Diseases, Allergy and Immunology "Metabolic control of T cell senescence for tmor immunotherapy"
Nicola Pozzi, Ph.D. Biochemistry and Molecular Biology "Structural studies of β2-glycoprotein I"
Ratna Ray, Ph.D. Pathology "Role of long non-coding RNA ELDR in head and neck cancer"
Sameer Siddiqui, M.D. Surgery "Insulin resistance following androgen deprivation therapy in men with prostate cancer"
Jinsong Zhang, Ph.D. Pharmacological and Physiological Science "Lysine acetylation of histone deacetylase 3 as a new target for cancer therapy"
A list of previous awardees can be viewed here: Previous Awardees.
For the Fall 2014 cycle, 31 applications were received from the School of Medicine and over $1.3 million total in grant money was requested.
PRF Cycle 17 (Jan 2020) Forms:
PRF Guidelines
Applications will be submitted via Open Water at myslu.slu.edu.
Sample Application:
Tavis PRF


text:
A Tale of Two Portlands: Maine and Oregon
TravellerToday October 16, 2013 Travel Guides
There are two cities within the United States named Portland that have been crucial to the history of their areas: Portland, Oregon, and Portland, Maine. In Oregon, the area has been inhabited for centuries, first as a home to native tribes, later to be named for Portland, Maine. Oregon's city is at the confluence of the Columbia and Willamette Rivers while Maine's Portland, the state's largest city, is located on Casco Bay. Both Portlands are the major seaports in their areas. But there's something about each city, despite their being on opposite coasts, that is similar—a laid-back, earthy vibe; good food; great beer; and a constant flow of visitors looking to capture a little bit of Portland.
Portland, Oregon: Places to Go, Things to Do
The northwestern city has much to offer. Some of the hotter spots to visit include something for the literary at heart, aficionados of flora, shoppers, kids, and history. For instance, Powell's City of Books is called such because the bookstore consumes an entire city block and has nearly 2 million books within. It's easily the largest bookstore on Earth carrying both new and used items. Pittock Mansion is 1,000 feet above the city in the hillside and offers breathtaking views of the city, forest, rivers, and surrounding landscapes. There are 23 rooms in the mansion, which was built during the time Portland was a small lumber town.
Lan Su Chinese Garden has been patterned after the Ming Dynasty gardens with walkways, bridges, and landscapes to complement a beautiful lake. If you don't want to meander on your own, there are tours available. For children, head out to the Oregon Zoo, home of over 2,000 animals. Located in Washington Park, the zoo is renowned for its Asian Elephant program. Museums abound in Portland, Oregon, including the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry, which has hundreds of interactive exhibits and thousands of square feet. Don't miss the planetarium!
If you prefer outdoor activities, you'll find the northwest is a great place to be! Forest Park is the country's largest urban wilderness with nearly 200 species of animal and some terrific hiking trails. There is hiking all around Portland, plus paths for runners and bicyclists. Oh – don't miss the golf either! The longest ski season is up on Mount Hood, so you can enjoy winter sports like skiing. Water sports can be enjoyed on the lakes and rivers. These activities include fishing, rafting, kayaking, windsurfing, and swimming.
Portland is known for its ever-growing microbrewery scene, so search out a few to taste some of their specialty suds. A famous snack spot in Portland is Voodoo Doughnuts, which produces amazing doughnut creations that include everything from cereal to bubble gum. Portland's food truck scene is also huge, and favorites of the 500 and counting vendors around the city include Eurodish, KoiFusion, and Built to Grill.
Portland, Maine: Places to Go, Things to Do
This northeastern city certainly has its fair share of fun things to do and places to go as well. Portland is Maine's largest city and many artisans call it home. Man, woman, and child will have a grand time here!
For instance, take the kids to one of the many amusement parks in the area, including Aquaboggan. Take a scenic drive along the coast and photograph the numerous lighthouses in the area while enjoying the lazy day's ocean breeze. There are some famous bookstores here, too, though they may be for more of an antiquarian in the crowd. The Children's Museum of Maine houses interactive displays, a tidal pool, and a lobster boat.
The Old Port is now a shopper's haven, with plenty of stores and boutiques to choose from. The New Port is a start-off point for many cruises in and around the area and ferryboats that can take you to the nearby islands in the Sound. You can even take a ride on a historic tall ship for a quiet time out on the water.
If shopping and sailing aren't your things, then perhaps you will enjoy a tour of the Victoria Mansion that dates back to the Victorian Era. Southworth Planetarium is on the University of Southern Maine's campus. Art lovers will be thrilled over the many galleries and art museums in town, as well as the art walks. Speaking of walking, there are several walking tours you can engage in that can take you into the past by teaching you about the ghosts that haunt the area or you can learn about wine, amongst other fun things. The Wadsworth-Longfellow House is in Portland, Maine – home of the famous American poet.
Outdoor activities here in the east are similar to those in the west. There are several hiking trails within Portland and the surrounding areas. Kayaking, sailing, beachcombing, and golfing are also available for the avid outdoorsman. Don't miss Maine in the winter! There's plenty of skiing to be had throughout the state.
Foodies will enjoy Portland, Maine's, bustling restaurant scene. Featuring everything from hearty New England favorites like lobster rolls and clam chowder to the more cutting edge farm-to-fork phenomenon and amazing fusion restaurants.
Whether you prefer the east coast or the west coast, you'll find plenty to do in either Portland. There are tons of places to stay in either city, from quaint beds and breakfasts to chain hotels to luxury-endowed accommodations. Pick a direction and have a great holiday!


Audio is not a new modality to composition studies, a field many would argue is grounded in its history with orality and rhetoric. The nature of orality shifts though with digital orality, integrating a variety of sources and features with inscribed sound. Through layered tracks, audio edits, and music imports, digital audio provides a means for asynchronous composition of a compressed, temporal artifact.
Imagine crowd-sourced audio file sharing meets your remediated tape recorder. SoundCloud is an easy-to-use application that works well for recording live sounds to share with others. Working primarily as a "capture" technology, SoundCloud is designed to network your sounds with others (or protect sounds as private). Users can network with other SoundCloud users as well as interface their sounds with existing social media interfaces (e.g. Facebook, Twitter, Tweetdeck, Google+) and email. SoundCloud does not provide editing capabilities in the app; however, users can download SoundCloud files and import them into audio editing software (e.g. Audacity).
Ahern, Katie. "Tuning the Sonic Playing Field: Teaching Ways of Knowing Sound in First-Year Writing." Computers and Composition. 30 (2013): 75-86. Print.
Comstock, Michelle and Mary E. Hocks "Voice in the Cultural Soundscape: Sonic Literacy in Composition Studies." Computers and Composition Online. 2006. Web.
Dyson, Frances. Sounding New Media: Immersion and Embodiment in the Arts and Culture. Los Angeles, California: University of California Press, 2009. Print.
Halbritter, Bump. "Musical Rhetoric in Integrated-Media Composition." Computers and Composition. 23 (2006): 317-334. Print.
Palmeri, Jason. Remixing Composition: A History of Multimodal Writing Pedagogy. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2012. Print.
Selfe, Cynthia. "The Movement of Air, the Breath of Meaning: Aurality and Multimodal Composing." College Composition and Communication. 60.4 (2009): 616-663. Print.
Welch, Kathleen E. Electric Rhetoric: Classical Rhetoric, Oralism, and a New Literacy. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press. 1999. Print.
Whitney, Allison. "Cultivating Sonic Literacy in the Humanities Classroom." Music, Sound, and Moving Images. 2.2 (2008): 145-148. Print.


text:
<?php

namespace Google\Service\GoogleAnalyticsAdmin;

class GoogleAnalyticsAdminV1alphaAccessInListFilter extends \Google\Collection
{
  protected $collection_key = 'values';
  /**
   * @var bool
   */
  public $caseSensitive;
  /**
   * @var string[]
   */
  public $values;

  /**
   * @param bool
   */
  public function setCaseSensitive($caseSensitive)
  {
    $this->caseSensitive = $caseSensitive;
  }
  /**
   * @return bool
   */
  public function getCaseSensitive()
  {
    return $this->caseSensitive;
  }
  /**
   * @param string[]
   */
  public function setValues($values)
  {
    $this->values = $values;
  }
  /**
   * @return string[]
   */
  public function getValues()
  {
    return $this->values;
  }
}

// Adding a class alias for backwards compatibility with the previous class name.
class_alias(GoogleAnalyticsAdminV1alphaAccessInListFilter::class, 'Google_Service_GoogleAnalyticsAdmin_GoogleAnalyticsAdminV1alphaAccessInListFilter');


The Christmas party season and the New Year bashes are just around the corner making it vitally important you look and feel your best. These events are the most memorable of the year and will give you the best chance to show off your new dress, your hair and your makeup.
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text:
1. Gradle. If you don't have Gradle installed, you can get it on [https://gradle.org/install/#manually](https://gradle.org/install/#manually).
2. [Depot tools](http://commondatastorage.googleapis.com/chrome-infra-docs/flat/depot_tools/docs/html/depot_tools_tutorial.html#_setting_up).

## Steps

To update the embedding dependencies, just `cd` into this directory,
modify the dependencies in `build.gradle` and run `gradle updateDependencies`.

Once you have updated the dependencies, you can upload a new version by running
`cipd create --pkg-def cipd.yaml`. For more, see the Chromium instructions on ["Updating a CIPD
dependency"](https://chromium.googlesource.com/chromium/src/+/master/docs/cipd.md#Updating-a-CIPD-dependency) for how to upload a package update to CIPD.

Once you've uploaded the new version, also make sure to tag it with the updated
timestamp and robolectric version (most likely still 3.8, unless you've migrated
all the packages to 4+).

    $ cipd set-tag flutter/android/embedding_bundle --version=<new_version_hash> -tag=last_updated:<timestamp>

Example of a last-updated timestamp: 2019-07-29T15:27:42-0700

You can generate the same date format with `date +%Y-%m-%dT%T%z`.

You can run `cipd describe flutter/android/embedding_bundle
--version=<new_version_hash>` to verify. You should see:

```
Package:       flutter/android/embedding_bundle
Instance ID:   <new_version_hash>
...
Tags:
 last_updated:<timestamp>
```

Then update the `DEPS` file (located at /src/flutter/DEPS) to use the new version by pointing to
your new `last_updated_at` tag.

```
  'src/third_party/android_embedding_dependencies': {
     'packages': [
       {
        'package': 'flutter/android/embedding_bundle',
        'version': 'last_updated:<timestamp>'
       }
     ],
     'condition': 'download_android_deps',
     'dep_type': 'cipd',
   },
```

You can now re-run `gclient sync` to fetch the latest package version.


"Can you get me Mario's autograph please Mr Dzeko?"
I find handcuffs work best.
Arsenal midfielder Aaron Ramsey, 21, admits he and his team-mates have no idea how the situation with striker Robin van Persie will pan out.
Have you thought about seeing a clairvoyant?
Liverpool are understood to have had a bid rejected for 25-year-old Real Madrid midfielder Esteban Granero.
Which reminds me, whatever happened to Gloria Estefan?
Manchester City striker Edin Dzeko joins Hollywood actress Angelina Jolie on the red carpet at a film festival in Sarajevo.
Rumours he blagged his way by claiming to know Mario Balotelli have been played down.


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text:
A View from the Wrong Side of the Wall
Rahab covered her body with a robe and tied the strings tightly around her. She crossed her arms into her chest and looked up at the man that towered above her. His name was Hassan, a regular customer.
"I'm on military watch starting tonight, but I'll stop by next week," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. "Our king has decided to send my group of soldiers to the wall for double duty." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch of coins and threw them on the bed.
Rahab eyed the money pouch, but didn't move to grab it. She nodded silently to him, and watched him walk out the door.
She stared at the pouch of money and then hastily put it away. Every coin in that bag repulsed her.
She suddenly felt the need to wash. She poured a large pitcher of water into a basin and scrubbed herself as clean as she possibly could manage, then changed into a clean tunic and tied ribbons of a fresh robe around her waist. She twisted her hair into a tightly woven bun and fanned the afternoon's heat away from her neck. Next, she surveyed her home. His smell still lingered in her bedroom. Quickly, she stripped the linens off the bed and threw them in a pile to be scrubbed for the next day. She grabbed new linens from her shelf and remade her bed.
But nothing had changed. No matter what she did, she couldn't wipe away the filth; she couldn't remove the grime that clung to her insides. She felt sick and stifled.
Running to the window, she parted the cloth that hung as its covering and leaned out for some fresh air. She hung her head and drew in a deep breath. Oh, what had she become? Over the past six years, she had done what she needed to do. She had gritted her teeth and paid the awful price. Her job was the only way to pay her family's debts; it was the only way to escape peril for everyone she loved. It hadn't been her choice. But she wasn't without food or clothing, and her father and brothers weren't in debtor's prison. She had a roof over her head, too, even though it was considered part of the slums. She wasn't starving or worse, dead. So, why all of a sudden the deep disgust?
She leaned her elbows on the windowsill and stared outside. From her house in the city wall, she could see the Jordan River in the far distance. She could see swift white-caps peaking on the horizon, flowing turbulently inside the hearty waters. The river seemed to match the turbulence of her own heart.
As she stared at the river, she pondered the things she had heard spoken by various city officials over the past month. She looked again at the river and remembered the stories of a foreign people called the Israelites, and an amazing journey across the Red Sea where they crossed on dry land many years before. She had laughed when she had first heard this story, thinking it had been a fantastical legend. But then she saw the seriousness in the eyes of the men who told the stories. Apparently, these people had a powerful God that could blow apart the waters and lead His people to safety.
Then just today, Hassan told her the very same Israelites had recently crushed their neighboring Amorite kings, obliterating everything in their path. Apparently their God had done that too. This God seemed to have the power to bring victory to His people in battle. She had heard the fear in Hassan's voice as he told her the story.
Her mind raced. Could her home city of Jericho be next?
Rahab breathed in the air, as full as her lungs could fill. "Our king…" Hassan had said to her today.
She whispered the words into the air. "My king?" She knew the king of Jericho cared not if she lived or died, if she ate or went hungry, if she was paid or in poverty. Her life to him was expendable; she was trash to him. He had demanded her father's debt to be paid in the form of her body, which left her lifeless and hopeless–a shell of the person she had been long ago.
She closed her eyes and thought back to her childhood. Memories flooded through her mind like the tumultuous waters of the Jordan: memories of playing games in the courtyard with her brothers, of running and skipping with her friends, of cuddling in her mother's lap while she listened to stories, and of sitting by her father at the evening meal. Nothing in her life had turned out the way she hoped or wished or dreamed it could be. She was disgusted at what she had become. And it was all because of the demand that her king decreed her father to pay.
"He is no longer my king," she said out loud.
And that was when she knew it.
She couldn't live this life anymore. She knew many debts were yet unpaid, but she didn't care. She simply couldn't live another minute like this. She looked frantically around her room and eyed the cloth with which she had decorated her window. The heavy material was a crimson color; red for the color of passion, or so the men had told her. She took a knife from a basket and hastily cut the fabric into strips. If she could fashion a rope out of this strong material, she could escape in the middle of the night and run away; she could escape this life and the wretched filth that continually chased her into a black darkness of despair.
With the same technique she had used to braid her hair into intricate designs for the king's men, she now braided an intricate rope out of the crimson cloth. She worked quickly, hand over hand, tightening as she went, checking to make sure it was strong. She looked out the window again and measured the length of distance in her head. As the hours went on, she knew she had created enough rope to escape out her window and out of the city forever. As she finished the end knots of her rope, the sunset had begun, and dusk was approaching. Suddenly, a loud burst of rapid knocks pounded upon her door.
Rahab shook her head. No more clients. Not tonight. Not ever. She stashed her rope in the corner and stood beside her closed door.
"I am closed for the evening," she said, feigning a syrupy tone. "Come back tomorrow."
Another voice met her on the other side. "Please, we ask to enter for just one evening."
We? she thought. She shook her head. She didn't like where this was going.
"I'm sorry. But as I said, I am closed for the evening." She closed her eyes and hoped against all hopes they would go away.
"Please. We have nowhere to turn, and we are desperate for help," said the first voice.
Something in the way those words were spoken made Rahab take a step back. The accent was foreign. It wasn't a man from Jericho, or even close to Jericho. And no one here in this city said 'please'.
But no. Nothing must thwart her plan tonight. She was going to escape. She had given and given and given of herself. She wouldn't do it anymore.
"I'm sorry. You must go. I cannot help you," she said softly through the closed door.
"Please," quavered the second voice outside her door. "Please, in the name of the God of Israel, the name of the One True God, we beg of you to open this door and help us."
Rahab gasped.
Could it be? The people of the powerful God were outside her front entrance?
Rahab took a deep breath. Releasing the lock, she opened the door.
"I'm sorry, but I fear you may not want my help when you know who I am," said Rahab, holding the door open for her visitors to step in.
The two men entered and quickly shut the door behind them. One man was older; he had a touch of gray hair at his temples, and a few sprinkles of gray in his beard. The other was closer to her age; his dark curly hair clung to his temples, damp and disheveled, as if they had been running for a long time. His face was clean-shaven, a clear symbol that he was unmarried. Both men wore olive-colored tunics, most likely to be camouflaged in the green hills, and their sandals were caked with mud.
The men looked around and noticed the markers of her profession in the room: her lavish bed, a few feathered pillows that had been a gift from the king, a plethora of candles that were lit around the tables and floor, the bottle of perfumed oil next to the bed, and the robe that she wore. The younger man blushed and looked at his feet. The older man's countenance hardened and he looked straight into her eyes.
"We care not for your profession," said the older man. "We have no need for that. We simply need to be hidden. Some of your soldiers have been tracking us."
The younger man, still ablush, looked at her with a softened expression. "Please, we will pay for your kindness. We simply need a place to hide so that we may not be caught. Our mission is from Joshua, the chosen leader of the Almighty God, and he has sent us on this errand. Please…you must hide us until the danger is past, and then we will leave and never return."
Perhaps it was the kindness in the young man's tone. No one had spoken to her like that since she was a girl. Or maybe it was the tenderness of his eyes as he looked at her, not as a harlot, but as a human being.
"Follow me," she said. Picking up her robe, she led them up a narrow stairway tucked inside the corner of her room. As they climbed up, she could feel a strange presence enveloping her. It was something fierce and fearful and freeing and joyful all at once. They followed her up the winding staircase two flights to the roof. A narrow passage sat in between the roof floor and the roof coverings of gathered flax.
She turned to them. "I don't want your money." It is now or never, she thought. A guaranteed escape for helping the enemy. But they didn't feel like the enemy. It felt as if she had belonged with them all her life.
She took another deep breath. "I don't want your money. I know the Lord has given you this land, and that the terror of your people has fallen upon this city, and that all the inhabitants are fainthearted because of you. We have heard how the Lord dried up the waters of the Red Sea when you came out of Egypt."
She held out her hands in the dark sky toward the Jordan River that flowed beyond them. "And we heard what you did to the two kings of the Amorites, who were on the other side of that Jordan, whom you utterly destroyed."
Something like a burning fire glowed inside her chest when she remembered the stories she had heard. She felt strong and weak at the same time; exhilarated and terrified, desperate and confident. "The hearts of Jericho have melted; no courage remains in the people because of you." She looked straight at the men who stood beyond her, looking with wide eyes at her proclamation.
"And I know the Lord your God…He is God in heaven above and on earth beneath!"
The burning sensation continued to radiate within her. It was as if she had never lived until this very moment.
"Now, therefore," she said in hushed tones, "I beg of you, swear to me by the Lord since I have shown you kindness, that you also will show kindness to my father's house, and give me a true token, and spare my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, and all that they have, and deliver our lives from death."
The two men looked at one another and talked in their own language with hasty, choppy sentences. They ended their abbreviated conversation with head nods to one another.
The elder looked satisfied.
The younger smiled from ear to ear, nodding at Rahab as he spoke. "Our lives for yours," he said quietly and slowly, "as long as none of you tells this business of ours. And it shall be, when the Lord has given us the land, that we will deal kindly and faithfully with you."
Her heart skipped a beat. A way out! An escape from the life she so desperately longed to leave behind. "Then you must hide here," she said. She pulled apart bunches of flax from the top coverings of the roof and revealed a floor of cold tile underneath. "Lie here until I know the time is safe."
The men scooted themselves down. She grabbed the bundles of flax, arranging them over the men to conceal them completely. Just as she was finishing her task, a loud pounding from downstairs jarred her, making her jump inside her skin. Someone was trying to knock down her door!
"Stay here and stay quiet!" she whispered to the men that she had hidden.
Rahab raced down the stairs to try and redirect whatever muscle was on the other side of her door.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The door almost rocked and rattled completely off of its frame.
"Just a moment! I am getting dressed!" she called, trying to buy her some time. She made it down the stairs and hastily looked around the room.
And then she saw them: footprints! The men's dirty sandals left footprints across her floor!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"We know they're in there!" shouted a voice from behind the door. "Open up!"
Rahab grabbed the dirty bed linens from the pile in her corner and wiped the floor, swishing the cloth across the cold stone as fast as she could, all the way down the length of her room and towards the staircase. Finishing her chore, she threw the soiled linens back to the corner and on top of the scarlet rope she had made and opened the door as calmly as she could.
Standing in the doorway was Hassan, the soldier that had been in her bed just that afternoon. A company of soldiers stood behind him.
"Well good evening, sirs," she said in her fake syrupy voice. "I am sorry, but I am closed for the evening." With every ounce of inner strength she had, she painted a seductive grin upon her face. "You can come back tomorrow. I'll be open for business then."
The soldiers pushed past her through the door and surveyed the room.
Hassan went to the window and looked out and down the city wall. His head circled around the items in her room. His eyes stopped at the pile of linens in the corner. His eyebrow went up and he looked at her.
"Just cleaning house at the end of the day," she said quietly. "I change my linens daily." She looked at him with a knowing look.
"We are looking for two men," Hassan said, looking past her and scanning the room. "They're part of the enemy and they're spies. Two witnesses said they came here—to you!" he growled, looking down at her like a dog looks at his bone.
While the soldiers around him began to search her house, Rahab shuddered. She had to think fast, or the men on the roof would be found out. And then what? Death for all three of them!
"Well, yes…two men did come to see me." She slowed her rapid breathing that threatened to give away her fear. She tried to feign disgust in her voice. "I had no idea where they came from. I told them exactly what I told you, that I was closed for the day, and to come back tomorrow. They left just as it was getting dark, as the gates were being shut, but I don't know which way they went. If you pursue them quickly, you may just overtake them!" She waved her arms to the window, pointing to the outer gates, trying to put on a good act to convince them that they must go and find these missing men.
Hassan looked at her with scrutinizing eyes.
"Time is of the essence, Hassan, if you want to catch them, you should go now! Jericho's safety depends upon it!" she waved her arms again.
He called his men, and they filed out of the room. As Hassan left through her door, he whispered in her ear, "If I find out that you are telling me falsehoods, you will have more to worry about than soiled linens," he hissed.
She bristled as he slammed the door behind him.
Rahab slid to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest. It took her a moment to calm the shivers that had overtaken her. Would the God of the Jews really save her? Oh, what had she gotten herself into?
She sighed a long sigh and bowed her head. "Oh God of the Jews, if you can hear my voice, please save me from this place. Please save my family from danger. Please save me…" She gulped and wiped a rogue tear that escaped from her eye. "Please save me from… me."
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Could she dare to dream? Could this life of freedom actually happen to her—the filth of the city, the most wretched of women?
She couldn't wallow in doubt. She had to believe it could be true so that she would have the strength to keep going.
She stood up, brushed off her robe, and ran up the stairs. She lifted the flax bundles and knelt down beside the two spies, lying as still as dead men. She held out her hand to help them up. "Quickly now, you must hurry," she whispered. "Come with me."
The men arose and followed Rahab back down the stairs and into her common room. They watched as she retrieved the scarlet rope from underneath the pile of soiled linens. She unwound its coils, proud of the strength and thickness of the rope she had made. Taking them to her window, she bid them to look outside.
"The city gates are already closed for the night," she said. "But if you climb outside my window, you will be outside the city walls. I sent away the soldiers who were at my door. They will find you if you stay closer to the city. So please, get to the hills lest they find you."
She pointed outside her window to the northern hills that lay beyond Jericho. "Hide out there for three days until the pursuers have returned back into Jericho. Then you may go back to your people and back to your leader Joshua."
Reaching above her window, she attached her homemade rope to a firm iron hook that was built into the wall. She released the rope, letting it unfurl outside and down the city wall to safety.
"You must go now, but please…" Her breath caught up inside her and she stopped. "Please remember your vow to me and my family."
The two men looked at the rope and then one another. The older man spoke first. "We will keep this oath of yours that you have made us swear, if, when we come into this land, you bind this scarlet cord in this window, and if you bring your father, your mother, your brothers, and all your father's household to your own home." He looked down at the scarlet rope that hung from the window. "And so it shall be that whoever goes outside the doors of your house, his blood shall be on his own head, and we will be guiltless. But whoever is with you in this house, his blood shall be on our head if a hand is laid on him."
Tears rolled down Rahab's cheeks, and she didn't really know why. She wiped them away with one swish of her hand. "According to your words, so be it," she said.
The older of the two men was first to lower himself down on the rope, inching down bit by bit. As soon as he was halfway down the wall, the younger man climbed out of the window and held onto the scarlet rope. "My name," he said in a whispered tone, "is Salmon." He smiled up at her.
"Rahab," she said with a quivering voice, pointing to herself.
"I will come back, Rahab," he whispered. "And I will look for you and your family."
He gave a final wave and inched down the rope.
Rahab leaned over her window and watched the two men scale down the city wall, down to the ground, and then run out of sight.
As soon as they had cleared the area of the wall, Rahab picked up the rope and pulled it inside, winding it back up into her apartment. Hand over hand, quick as lightning, she drew the rope back into her room.
With the knife that she had used to cut her window coverings, she sliced a large piece of the rope, long enough to span the entire length of her window. Using the same iron hook at the top of her window, she fastened the scarlet cord, letting it dangle down the center of the open space, marking her apartment within the city walls.
She stepped backwards and slumped to the stone floor. She had an insurmountable task before her. How would she convince her family to wait with her in this wretched slum of a place?
Rahab awoke early the next morning, groggy and confused. The events of the previous day sketched across her mind in fuzzy bits and pieces. Had it all been a dream? She stretched her arms and yawned, willing her tired legs to stand up and move. As she ambled across the room for a cup of water, she saw its presence in the window: the scarlet cord. At that moment, her mind refocused into a clear memory of the night before. It hadn't been a dream. They said they would come for her. They said they would rescue her.
But once this so-called rescue occurred, what would happen then? Escaping this life should have been everything that she could have ever wanted. But another longing lingered; a deeper desire clung to the core of Rahab's heart.
More than escaping this wretched place, Rahab wanted to belong—not drift upon the outskirts of a community— but truly belong to a people that she could love and that would love her back.
She sighed a weary sigh. That dream was just a myth. Once Joshua's people found out who she really was, they would throw her out on the next highway. And then where would she go? If only she could convince them to let her stay. She knew their God was the one true God. She felt it with every fiber of her being. But would their God accept her? Would the Hebrew people accept her?
She tucked a strand of dark curls around her ear and studied the scene out her window. Could she just escape now? Make a run for it? Scale the city wall and never turn back?
If the Israelite army had obliterated the Amorites, they would certainly find her and destroy her. Besides, her only ticket to a safe escape was to camp right next to that red cord.
She mustn't dwell on all the questions. She had a job to do right now. She had to convince her family to arrive at this place soon, when the imminent battle would begin. She would count the days until that battle, and today was the very first day.
Thankfully, the men of the city were occupied with battle preparations, leaving her alone to complete her mission. She quickly changed into a clean tunic and wound her hair up in a twist of curls that rested on the top of her head. Covering her face with a veil, she stepped out into the streets and closed the door behind her.
Rahab spent that first day visiting with her parents, and then her three brothers and their families. With each visit, she made sure that she wasn't detected or followed, for fear of being discovered as a traitor. In hushed whispers and hasty explanations, she shared the story of the Israelite spies and told them the secret information of the impending attack. She implored them to believe in the promise that the spies had made to her—the promise that they would protect anyone that dwelled at her house within the city wall.
By the end of the day, she had convinced her whole family to journey to her home, each by a different route, on the day of the Israelite attack. The plans were set. The arrangements were made. Now all they had to do was watch and wait.
While Rahab kept a constant vigil at her window, four long days rolled by. On the fifth day, nagging doubts plagued her mind, making her unsure of the silence and stillness outside. She wondered when the Israelite armies would be on the move. Why were they waiting so long?
A sinking feeling hit her heart and slithered down her spine. What if the spies never made it back? What if they had been captured and killed? What if the Israelite army decided to retreat? A cold sweat broke out upon her body, and she felt a squeezing inside her middle. What if her rescuers would never come?
She took a deep breath and willed herself not to give up. She couldn't let herself go there. Not yet.
On the seventh day, something happened.
Great companies of Israelite soldiers appeared at the far side of the Jordan River. She watched out her window with wide eyes and bated breath as the river magically parted, with miniature walls of water on either side. Gasping at what she saw, she ran to the roof for a clearer view. She stared in amazement as the Israelite army and all its men crossed over the riverbed on dry land!
But her rescue didn't come on that day. She sat on her roof with disappointment as the army set up camp near Gilgal and remained quiet.
They remained there for five more excruciating days.
Finally, on the twelfth day, the Israelite army was on the move again. She detected soldiers, dressed for battle, stepping into formation towards her city! Thousands and thousands of them marched towards the doom that had been promised for Jericho. This was it! She must go retrieve her family!
Grabbing her cloak and her head covering, she dashed into the streets. She ran to each family dwelling, popping her head into their homes, sharing the message that their plan was coming together. She stayed only long enough to receive head nods from her family members before she ran out the door to the next dwelling.
By the time Rahab had arrived back at her house in the city wall, her parents were waiting for her with bundles that they had packed. As the next hour ticked by, her brothers had made it to her home with their wives and children in tow. The apartment felt full. And there were no places to sit. The children congregated on the floor. The adults crowded around the window.
They watched as the Israelite army marched around their city. Although thousands of men in military formation impressed them all, nothing seemed to happen; no progress was made. The soldiers marched in a circle around their city and went back to camp that afternoon.
Rahab's family looked at her with expectant glances. She knew what they were thinking: That was it? That was the imminent attack? Perhaps she got fed wrong information; perhaps she was sadly gullible, accepting a false story.
Rahab shook her head. "I know what you all are thinking. And it isn't true. Those men were honest. And an attack on this city will happen."
"But what do we do until they get the courage to attack?" asked Rahab's eldest brother, clearly uncomfortable in her house. He had always felt ashamed of her, despite the fact that her job was not her choice.
"We'll wait it out," she said. "Surely the attack will happen tonight. Or tomorrow maybe?" Rahab tried to sound more confident than she felt. What was taking them so long?
That night, her family spread out on the floor of her apartment, resting on blankets that they had brought with them. No one slept much. Everyone was on edge.
By the next morning on the thirteenth day, the family ate their morning meal in haste, thinking the attack would be at any moment. The games that the children had been playing were beginning to lose their appeal, and cranky temperaments began to rise. The adults still crowded around the window and frowned as they watched the very same military formations march around their city in one complete circle and return to camp.
"That's it, we aren't staying to watch them exercise. I'm not waiting around like this," said Rahab's oldest brother. He gathered his blankets from the floor. His wife collected the children.
"But you can't leave!" said Rahab. "The men told me that NO one outside this house will be spared!"
"We'll be in our own home, where it's comfortable," he said, and their family left.
"I agree," said her second brother. "This is a waste of time." And with that, he too picked up his family and left.
On the fourteenth day, she watched her youngest brother and his family leave also. No one was impressed that the Israelite army only knew how to march in a circle and do nothing else. The fear of attack waned. The desperation was gone. Even her parents went back to their home and to their normal life.
Rahab's doubts surfaced again, this time on a much deeper level. Why did she ever believe those men? Was this some sick and cruel joke that the God of the Hebrews played upon other people? How could she have ever thought she could escape this life, this destiny? How could she have ever entertained the idea that she might belong to that people and to their God?
She sank to the floor and wept. It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair to have been born on the wrong side of this wall.
She took a long draught of wine and willed herself to sleep.
The next day, and the next were all the same. Each day, the army would arrive by the wall in formation, march around their city once, then retreat back to their camp. It made no sense, and Rahab didn't care anymore. She was alone. Her family had deserted her. The spies had lied to her. She would rather die than live another day.
But finally, on the eighteenth day, something different happened. The army arrived, marching around the city their definitive one time, but they didn't go back to camp after that first march. They kept marching! They circled the city twice, then three times, then four…
Something in Rahab awakened. She looked at the silly red cord that still hung in her window and something inside her burned brightly again. Somehow, she knew today would be different. Today there would be change. Maybe the spies had lied to her…maybe it really was a hoax…but she had one small shred of hope that had begun to fan a small flame in her belly, and she was willing to let hope live inside her…just this one day. She grabbed her cloak and ran out the door.
By noon, she had arrived back at her apartment in the city wall with her whole family in tow. Somehow, they also felt the urge to come. Something within them knew that today would be unlike the others.
They stood quietly at the window as the army continued to march…and march.
And then all of a sudden, the soldiers halted, each at a post around the wall. The sun shone brightly in the top of the sky, glaring down foreboding rays of heat that proclaimed the ruination that was to come. In the far-off distance, Rahab could hear horns blasting.
"This is it!" shouted Rahab. "Grab your children! Keep them close! We must be here! By the scarlet cord!"
Her family huddled close together around the window, holding tightly to one another's hands, no one speaking a word. Rahab heard the Israelite voices come together in a deafening shout like the rush of a mighty tornadic wind or a torrent of angry rain. Shivers ran up and down Rahab's back and her hair raised on end. This was the moment she had been waiting for; the moment she had been longing for.
Almost as if her eyes saw things in a slower motion, she numbly looked to the right and to the left, watching rocks fall on either side of them. Chaos broke loose. People were screaming; the unnatural sounds of splitting rocks filled the air. The city wall was crumbling, but the tiny room in which they stood remained steadfast. She watched in horror as every fortified area collapsed in ruin, except for the place of the window with the scarlet cord.
Rahab watched with widened eyes and quickened breath as she saw the man that she had met—Salmon was his name—climbing up and over a great heap of fallen rock. He was scaling the rock to come to her.
"I told you I would come back for you!" he cried over the loud rumble of falling rocks and the sharp clanging of swords. "We need to get you and your family out of here!" He motioned to her family who all stood stock still with gaping mouths and confused expressions. "Follow me, everyone!"
With one sweeping motion, Salmon removed his outer cloak and spread it over Rahab, shielding her from tiny debris that fell from the air. He led her out first, descending down the fallen rock, with her family behind them like a row of ducklings.
They ran, and ran, and ran. It felt so good to run! As Rahab ran, the fire in her belly grew into a bursting flame that radiated and pulsed inside her. By the time they reached the Israelite camp, Rahab was winded, but beaming. The promises had proved true; she and her family were safe! She was safe and free from the terrible life that had enslaved her. She turned around and looked in the distance at the mighty Jericho, burning to the ground, flames licking the crumbled walls and devouring everything inside. She turned her back upon the city and walked away with Salmon, covered and protected underneath his cloak. Never again would she go back. Her heart belonged to Someone else.
The spring sunshine shone brightly over her head as she rocked and hummed. The birds sang in melody across the green pastures, answering back in echoing harmonies. A small herd of cattle loped around the fields to the north, feeling the warmth and energy from the sun.
Rahab sat lazily on her favorite portico chair, listening to the songs of the birds and feeling a warm breeze across her face. It had been three years since that monumental moment when she stepped beyond the window with the scarlet cord and into a new life.
Three amazing years.
She was once a wretched harlot from the slums of Jericho, bound in the chains of inner darkness. And now, here she sat, in the warmth of the summer sun: a completely different woman.
She remembered the day she walked out of Jericho. She remembered the satisfaction she felt when she sank into a hot bath, washing away the filth of her past. The women of the community had given her new, clean linens made with beautiful colors of purple and white that covered her from head to toe. Over the next many months, she had learned the ways of the Hebrew God and felt the balm of forgiveness for her past.
She closed her eyes and smiled. She still couldn't believe it… the Hebrew people had welcomed her as one of their own, giving her a place to live and belong. And Salmon had given her a gift that she never thought possible—he had made her his cherished wife.
Rahab closed her eyes and patted her rounded belly. She thanked God for His healing. As she sat in peaceful meditation, she felt two strong arms envelop her in a gentle embrace. She looked up to see her husband behind her. Salmon's warm hands patted her ever-growing middle, making their babe inside of her turn a somersault. Salmon came around and sat beside her with a smile, still holding his hand upon her belly, connecting himself to the little one that grew inside her.
"I was thinking…" he said.
"Yes?" she said, smiling.
"If our child turns out to be a boy," he paused for a moment, clearly enjoying her full attention. "…what do you think of the name Boaz?"
Rahab nodded her head. "Boaz..," she said, feeling the way it flowed off of her tongue. "Boaz…I like it. It is a strong name. A strong name for a strong child, who will grow up to proclaim the strong love of the Lord!"
The babe within her gave a mighty kick.
She looked out towards the east and smiled. "Boaz it shall be."
Jodi Hiser is a writer and editor for Kosmeo Magazine. She and her husband Matthew live with their family on a small homestead in Tennessee.


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New 'Beasts of Burden' story due this year
The dogs and cat of Burden Hill return this year in a new story by Evan Dorkin, Sarah Dyer and Jill Thompson.
The dogs and cat of Burden Hill return this year in a new story by Evan Dorkin, Sarah Dyer and Jill Thompson. The "all-cat" issue will detail where Dymphna, the witch's familiar who has allied herself with the protectors of Burden Hill, disappears to at night.
Dymphna
"Dark Horse is mapping out the issue, and if all goes well we're looking at a Spring release," Dorkin said on his LiveJournal. "However, we have some blank pages to fill in the back of the comic, and we're trying to see if anyone has any questions or comments for us to print in a letters page for the issue. Even if we only fill a page, that's one less ad in the issue and a little something extra to read. Right now we only have one letter. Eep."
The Eisner Award-winning comic from Dark Horse Comics stars a group of dogs and cats that investigates supernatural events in their town. Beasts of Burden began as a recurring feature in the Dark Horse Book of … anthologies before graduating into its own miniseries. The animal protectors have also teamed up with Hellboy and appeared in Dark Horse Presents.
Update, 2/11: Dark Horse issued a press release on the return of Beasts of Burden, which you can find below with art:
Dorkin, Dyer and Thompson Discover What the Cat Dragged In!
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: MILWAUKIE, OR—Evan Dorkin (Eltingville Club, Milk and Cheese), Sarah Dyer (The Dark Horse Book of Monsters) and Jill Thompson (Scary Godmother) return to the characters that won them the Eisner Awards for Best Short Story and Best Publication for Teens with a new one-shot comic: Beasts of Burden: What the Cat Dragged In!
This standalone adventure is a perfect entry point for readers new to the award-winning series. When curiosity gets the best of Burden Hill's cats (and one reluctant raccoon), sleeping demons are awakened and black magic is unleashed on the town of Burden Hill.
Multiple award-winning comics creators Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson first introduced these very special investigators in The Dark Horse Book of Hauntings and the other Dark Horse Book of . . . anthologies, for which they won coveted Eisner Awards for Best Short Story and Best Painter.
In 2009, the beasts of Burden Hill received their own miniseries, Animal Rites, which garnered widespread critical acclaim. In 2010, they met up with Mike Mignola's Hellboy, cementing these unlikely heroes in the pages of Dark Horse history.
The one-shot Beasts of Burden: What the Cat Dragged In (MAR160030) is in stores May 4, 2016. Preorder your copy today at your local comic shop!
Author JK ParkinPosted on February 9, 2016 February 11, 2016 Categories Comic BooksTags Beasts of Burden, comic books, Dark Horse Comics, Evan Dorkin, Jill Thompson
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the HAES files: does the Health At Every Size® approach mean I'm giving up?
Yes you are giving up the frustration that comes from banging your head, repeatedly, against the same "weight-loss-wall" and feeling like a failure. You are giving up the idea that your body should be conquered and controlled. You are giving up the notion that all other health and life goals mean nothing if they are not accompanied by weight loss. You are giving up the need to put your life on hold until you reach an arbitrary goal weight and fit into a certain pair of pants. And that is good. Most people like this.
But truly embracing the Health at Every Size approach tends to ultimately result in another kind of "giving up." You have to sacrifice your skinny fantasy. This fantasy implies that when you reach your goal weight, or the "skinny jeans zip" (even if you have to lie on the bed to do it) other things in life will magically get better. You'll land that fantastic new job. You'll be the envy of everyone you know. A fantastically attractive and wealthy person (who also happens to be your soul-mate) will swoop in and "take you away from all this". In our world, this fantasy is incredibly strong. You have to give up the "highs" of the diet roller coaster as well as the "lows". Most people don't like this too much.
But I think the area where people struggle the most is with their own idea that the Health At Every Size® approach means you are giving up your body altogether. They often believe that it means A) not exercising (because without weight loss, why bother?) and B) eating whatever you want, whenever you want.
But the HAESSM approach does NOT mean giving up on your body. It means honoring your body in a uniquely effective manner. HAES does not mean giving up on exercise. It means finding a kind of movement that you enjoy and feels good to your body. It means recognizing the good feeling you get after moving your body and making opportunities to feel that way often. And HAES does not mean just eating cookies three times a day. It means honoring your hunger and satiety signals. It means caring for your body with a variety of nutritious foods. It means learning which foods fuel you and make you feel well and which foods leave you feeling less well. In short the HAES approach does not mean giving up on your body, but rather owning and inhabiting your body in a special way. In a certain thoughtful and unregimented way, the HAES approach is a lot of work. A lot of people find this idea very confusing.
And it's no wonder. In a world of "get everything you ever wanted by following my ten easy steps, five point plan or three rules" the Health At Every Size approach offers subtlety and complexity. The HAES approach means that people have to honor their own bodies and seek to find their own rules. And the markers for success aren't as clear-cut. There's no "after" picture. There's no goal weight victory party. And for a culture that is obsessed with winning at all costs, this is also a sacrifice. For many people, the HAES model means giving up the external validation offered by doctors, friends, families and even total strangers that can come with weight loss. It even means a sacrifice of the notion that health and mortality is under our control—as many of us secretly believe that if we lose weight and do everything "right" we'll live forever. Most people find this incredibly hard.
When you've lived the Health at Every Size approach for a number of years and experienced the joy and inner peace that comes with accepting and honoring your own body, it can be hard to understand why others don't seem to "get it". You remember the pain of the diet roller coaster and constant self-hatred and don't ever, ever want to go back there. But as we help others along the way, it's important to remember the things you gave up on the road to self-acceptance, and honor the grieving process that goes along with that. And it's important to help those new to the HAES way of living to understand that while the Health At Every Size approach means giving up certain things, it means the precise opposite of giving up on yourself.


How to cite: Gillibert, R..; Balakrishnan, G..; Deshoules, Q..; Tardivel, M..; Magazzù, A..; Donato, M.G.; Marago, O.M..; Lamy de La Chapelle, M.; Colas, F..; Lagarde, F..; Gucciardi, P.G. Raman Tweezers as a Tool for Small Microplastics and Nanoplastics Identification in Sea Water. Preprints 2019, 2019010227 (doi: 10.20944/preprints201901.0227.v1). Gillibert, R..; Balakrishnan, G..; Deshoules, Q..; Tardivel, M..; Magazzù, A..; Donato, M.G.; Marago, O.M..; Lamy de La Chapelle, M.; Colas, F..; Lagarde, F..; Gucciardi, P.G. Raman Tweezers as a Tool for Small Microplastics and Nanoplastics Identification in Sea Water. Preprints 2019, 2019010227 (doi: 10.20944/preprints201901.0227.v1).
Gillibert, R..; Balakrishnan, G..; Deshoules, Q..; Tardivel, M..; Magazzù, A..; Donato, M.G.; Marago, O.M..; Lamy de La Chapelle, M.; Colas, F..; Lagarde, F..; Gucciardi, P.G. Raman Tweezers as a Tool for Small Microplastics and Nanoplastics Identification in Sea Water. Preprints 2019, 2019010227 (doi: 10.20944/preprints201901.0227.v1). Gillibert, R..; Balakrishnan, G..; Deshoules, Q..; Tardivel, M..; Magazzù, A..; Donato, M.G.; Marago, O.M..; Lamy de La Chapelle, M.; Colas, F..; Lagarde, F..; Gucciardi, P.G. Raman Tweezers as a Tool for Small Microplastics and Nanoplastics Identification in Sea Water. Preprints 2019, 2019010227 (doi: 10.20944/preprints201901.0227.v1).
Our understanding of the fate and distribution of micro- and nano- plastics in the marine environment and their impact on the biota compartment is limited by the intrinsic difficulties of conventional analytical techniques (light scattering, FT-IR, Raman, optical and electron microscopies) in the detection, quantification and chemical identification of small particles in liquid samples. Here we propose the use of optical tweezers, a technique awarded in 2018 with the Nobel prize, as an analytical tool for the study of micro- and nano- plastics in sea water. In particular, we exploit the combination of optical tweezers with Raman spectroscopy (Raman Tweezers, RTs) to optically trap plastic particles with sizes from tens of µm down to 90 nm and unambiguously reveal their chemical composition. RTs applications are shown on particles made of the most common plastic pollutants, including polyethylene, polypropylene, nylon and polystyrene, that are artificially fragmented and aged directly in seawater. RTs allow us to assess the size and shapes of microparticles (beads, fragments, fibers) and can be applied to investigate particles covered with organic layers. Furthermore, operating at the single particle level, RTs enable unambiguous distinction of plastic particles from marine microorganisms and seawater minerals, overcoming the capacities of standard Raman spectroscopy in liquid, limited to average measurements. Coupled to suitable extraction and concentration protocols, RTs could have a strong impact in the study of the fate of micro and nanoplastics in marine environment, as well as in the understanding of the fragmentation processes on a multi-scale level.