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Essays - Winter 2008
Confluences
As a beloved uncle makes his final journey in the wilderness, a new life begins
By Jennifer Sinor | December 1, 2007
Bob Wick for Bureau of Land Management/Flickr
(for my father)
For the first 12 hours after my father returned—wearing clothes that were three days old, his body still wrinkled from time spent immersed in water—he faced investigation for the murder of his brother. I imagine it was only protocol for the rangers and the Fairbanks police; death in a national park requires the federal government to file a report, whether that death results from a grizzly, an avalanche, or a body that has just given out. Still, I wonder if there was a moment in the police station, days away from the last time he had slept, his brother's body on its way to a temporary morgue, when my father's thoughts turned to questions of intention—his own or his brother's—and the ease with which a body can leave this earth.
The headwaters of the Alatna River, along with those of the Killik and Nigu Rivers, gather in the Gates of the Arctic National Park in northern Alaska, high up in the Brooks Range. One of six rivers in the park dedicated "wild and scenic" and therefore federally protected, the Alatna begins as a trickle and eventually builds to class III rapids on its 83-mile journey to confluence with the Koyukuk. The park itself, over eight million acres of protected wildlife, roadless and therefore one of the most remote regions in the United States, is home to the Arrigetch Mountains whose granitic spires reach 6,000 feet in the air. On the river one might see caribou, moose, Dall sheep, eagles, grizzlies, and even the occasional seagull far from the shores of the Pacific.
Though the river snakes lazily across a valley floor, through an idyllic landscape of open tundra and boreal forests, the Alatna has earned its wild and scenic designation. At the headwaters, the river is no more than a large drainage basin pooling in barren Summit Lake. With little water in the river, adventurers beginning at Summit must drag their Avon rafts for miles over gravel bars and sand barriers. But the lack of water is deceiving. An atypically hot day or a little rain can cause a dramatic rise in the water level, as much as six feet at once, due to glacial melting or the refusal of the thick layer of permafrost to absorb the rainfall. Within minutes, the river becomes a series of chutes, some as narrow as a canoe, where water rages down the mountain. Every guidebook, map, and Web site surveying the region reminds potential visitors that these rivers are ultimately unmappable.
My son was conceived the night my uncle died. Curling his body and holding fast to the slender strands of willow growing nearby, my uncle left this world on a day with no night while the collection of cells that would become my son clung to the walls of my body, defying the odds and remaining viable. The following day, my uncle still dead and the cells still holding on and dividing, I whined in my journal about how quickly pens seem to lose their ink.
My father and his brother Jerry had gone to the northern reaches of Alaska to run the Alatna River for many reasons, some articulated and others not: my dad had never seen the headwaters; my uncle Jerry had run the river before and knew no wilder place; returning was on his life list; Jerry was sick and his time spent on trails and in tents was becoming limited; and Alaska is enormous and unknown, a place worthy of reckoning. I imagine they went because Alaska hovered like a dream from their childhood when they spent long afternoons in the hayloft considering what lay beyond the landlocked plains.
Written first on a legal pad in thin blue lines of ink that run like waves across the page, then later transferred to the computer, the journal my dad made of the trip, composed on the flight back, begins: "Jerry and I met in St. Louis to begin our incredible journey."
He then moves quickly to describe those few hours, not even 24, when everything was still okay—arriving in Fairbanks, flying to the hinterlands, renting gear from the outfitter. He names the few people they met, the meals they ate, the conversations they had with the taxi driver. I imagine his pen pausing for lengths of time as he begins the story. I imagine him nursing a drink, staring into the clouds, and willing himself to recall more of what would typically pass unnoticed, not wanting to set out on what he knows will lead to pain. I imagine he clings to these moments the way he clung to their raft; I imagine he is frightened when he must leave them behind. Yet he begins.
By the time my dad is on the second page of his journal, the ordinary fades like fog at the rising sun. He writes that well into the morning of their first day in the Alaskan wilderness, long after the bush pilot has left them at Summit Lake, Jerry fell while trying to fish. It is the first glimmer. After recording the number of fish Jerry catches, their length and type, my dad writes that Jerry told him he had fallen while walking back to the camp and was worried he had cracked a rib. In amongst the arctic char comes a hint, like frost, of fragility.
And then on the morning of the second day, they realize that fuel is running low. My dad does not write why, but I know it is because my uncle overhauled the fuel canisters before they left and did a poor job of it. The irony is bitter, for my uncle was a chemical engineer, a specialist, in fact, in fuels. The founder and editor of what became The Sinor Synthetic Fuels Report, a man who helped design the first space shuttle in the '80s and worked on alternative fuel sources in the '90s, Jerry is faced, on July 12, 2003, with the knowledge that he and my father are two days into a 14-day trip and have already used half their fuel.
Aidan has not yet been conceived on July 12. His being waits in the universe for a body, and in my journal I remain transfixed by the ordinary in my life: a new puppy that won't behave, a deadline for an essay, heat that has clamped the intermountain west and refused to let go. I mow the lawn, riding the tractor up and down the hill beside our house, and consider calling my mom to make sure my dad has gotten off okay. The day before my father left for Alaska, I chose not to call him to wish him a safe journey. Our last interaction, an argument over a card game, had left me angry and resentful, feelings as familiar and worn as my favorite shoes. I will not learn for several days of his ordeal. When I do, I will, at the age of 34, believe that I am somehow to blame because I failed to call.
My dad and Jerry spend that afternoon falling as they struggle in inch-deep water, using ropes to line, or drag, the raft down the shallow headwaters of the Alatna. It is hard work, lining a boat. I say this not from experience but from the way my father's hands looked when he returned from Alaska. Swollen and scabbed, they were so bloated that my mother had to type the initial draft of his journal. His hands betrayed the difficulty of the trip in a way his words never would; their stretched skin remained with me later when he suggested that he had done nothing at all.
Others had been asked to come along on the trip, including my husband, Michael, and me. Being in the backcountry was something my extended family did together, like others might see a movie or eat out. Every summer we backpacked in the Rockies, choosing wilderness areas over national parks or forests in hopes that the additional work of getting there would mean having part of the planet to ourselves. A dozen people from three generations around a campfire in the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness was not unusual; only two people in the central Brooks Range was.
That evening Jerry admits to my father that he had to lie to his doctor about coming to Alaska. His prostate cancer and Parkinson's were becoming more complicated and he had, just days before, been placed on new medication that is giving him trouble. My dad writes:
After dinner, we sat around the fire talking about successes and failures, investment strategies, future trips, hopes for our children and life in general. It was a very good evening, but it was also the first time he mentioned the third member of our group (Cynde) and why she wasn't with us. When I said, "Cynde did not come on this trip." He responded, "I know, I just forgot."
Crystal clear in thought only 48 hours before, Jerry now confuses white rocks for sand dollars and imagines people who aren't there. Reeling my mother, Cynde, into the story, my uncle's mind was taking refuge in the familiar—she usually accompanied them on their trips. In fact, she'd been on their last trip to Alaska when the same river, the Alatna, had pulled her under with its giant river arms, leaving her bruised and sore but not broken. Reading this as a warning, she chose not go on this trip—the cold, the mosquitoes, the lack of dry land. We all found excuses; mine had something to do with a porch that needed painting and a new dog that couldn't be left alone. When we learned that Jerry was dead, when we learned that my dad had, by himself, paddled the body of his dead brother for 60 miles in search of help, we wondered, as Jerry had, why we weren't there.
Jerry, though, refuses to allow us to remain outside the warmth of the campfire and brings us into the story—first my mother, then, the following day, his daughter, his wife, his son, and others—weaving us into the landscape. Perhaps he imagines my mother gone for a minute to the tent to put on a layer of fleece, or his daughter down by the river watching for eagles, or his son on a night hike, waiting for stars that will never appear. For Jerry, it seems, we are all there in Alaska, poking a stick at the coals in the campfire as the night declines to come to an end and the sun lingers forever on the horizon.
Because I am the oldest in my family, I cannot say what it is like to have an older sibling, one whom, perhaps, you have revered your entire life, whose path you have followed, whose choices you have been taught to see as good and right, and whose decline you must witness. Instead, I am familiar with the responsibility of being the eldest, of making a path, of always being watched. "I know, I just forgot," says Jerry, the one who never failed his siblings or his children. My first thoughts are of how hard that moment must have been for two men born in the Corn Belt just after the Depression, when weakness and error simply were not options. I imagine the shifting of feet, the stoking of fire, the busying of hands with mess kits and fishing line, anything to ignore the monster that has crept into camp threatening to disrupt a pattern, a practiced way of being, that these two men lived for over 60 years.
But later, I reconsider this moment in my dad's story. My dad reads the early signs of mental deterioration in Jerry's inability to distinguish between reality and figment, but I wonder if the dementia is not working to refigure a truer truth, not bound by actual truth, that seeps into the emotional truth of things. What if Jerry's failing mind is only failing to erect the boundaries and borders we typically build? What if, in those moments, the possibility exists that those who are not "there" actually are there warming themselves by the fire? What if, rather than being alone in the Alaskan wilds without fuel, with physical and mental loss pressing in, my dad and his brother are surrounded by family? What if the felt truth is the actual truth?
Or maybe I am just wishing it had been so. Maybe Jerry doesn't feel grace in the dissolving line between fact and fiction but rather experiences the swirling hysteria that must accompany the declining grip on reality. Maybe when he says "I know, I just forgot," he is really wishing with all his heart to stand firmly on the banks of reality.
I will not know that I am pregnant for several weeks. Only Aidan will know of his existence and then only in a cellular way. That I could be inhabited by another without my knowledge unnerves me. Hormones busily make preparations for my body to do what it has never been taught but must somehow now do, and I open another carton of milk for my breakfast cereal. In my journal I worry that friends no longer like me, that I am getting nothing done this summer, that I want to back out of a conference in September, that I should call my mom but don't. All the while an egg is waiting and a favorite uncle dying.
When I look back at these journal entries years later, days when I know my dad was fighting to stay alive, I am at first embarrassed by what fills the page. Though I could not know of the miracles happening around me, I wish I had been less concerned about the mundane and more outwardly focused. I find it hard to imagine that I could write several lines about the inadequacy of my pen and the failures of an eight-week-old puppy. But recently I have begun to see these pages as a kind of tether, a line connecting me to these ordinary moments in my past, allowing me to recover what would typically have been left to fade. On July 14, 2003, hormones releasing, my father fighting, and my uncle failing, I worried about taking our new puppy running. To have left this moment unwritten would have severed the only connection I have to a day in my life where the world split open without my notice.
Day three is, my dad writes with typical understatement, a difficult day. By late morning, Jerry can no longer stand upright. As long as he keeps walking, he can remain erect, but as soon as he stops moving, he falls into the river, into the raft, onto the rocks on the shore. The Alatna is painfully dry. My dad and uncle continue to line the 15-foot Avon down the shallows and over the sand and gravel bars, heaving their belongings, wishing for more water. Rain falls. Granitic rock formations appear in the far distance, holding court above the U-shaped valley where nothing grows above a foot. There are only tussocks, sedge, and the occasional willow, beaten low by a wind that hammers the landscape. Every now and then, an eagle flies overhead, a herd of caribou flees their approach, the rains desist for a minute, then the sky opens.
Every now and then, my uncle asks where they are and where everyone else is. When this happens, my dad responds, "Jerry, we are in the middle of Alaska going down the Alatna and there are only two of us."
Only two.
Only two days ago, all was right in the world. Two years ago, the signs of Parkinson's were less apparent. Two decades ago, Jerry and my dad were in the prime of life, building shuttles that could return to earth and writing treaties dictating how the world should act in time of war. Two score ago, they were getting married, finishing school, taking road trips to Florida to see the alligators. Only two.
More falling. One moment my dad looks up and Jerry isn't there. Beaching the raft, he goes in search of his brother only to find him near the shoreline, soaking wet; gloves, glasses, hat missing. He has been looking for my mother in the cotton grass. She has been gone so long. Time bends like the river. Now and then, here and there, near and far move closer together. I am at home writing in my journal an entry that will forever root me to this day long after the day has passed, the egg that will become my son knits into my body either to grow or to perish, and over a campfire the night before, my dad and his brother bring us onto the river in the stories they tell.
Though he only admits "real concern" at this point, there must be terror for my father. He is 200 miles from a city of any size with a brother who is gradually leaving him. He searches for the missing gloves and hat and then abandons the search. Who knows what the river might have taken? Is it at this point, I wonder, surrounded by acres of tundra, with so much missing, that he remembers a conversation he had had with Jerry shortly after the Parkinson's diagnosis? Knowing that the disease would leave him bedridden and imprisoned in a body that had once been able to bushwhack through the Rockies for miles without rest, Jerry asked his younger brother to make sure he died in the natural world. When the time came, help him find a cliff, a valley, a bottomless river, a final ceiling out of sky. Using the raft to steady Jerry's failing body and guiding both down a river that has grown steadily in the rain and the lower elevation, perhaps my father turns to the now clear sky and considers what he is being asked to do.
They set up camp, my dad erecting Jerry's tent, and eat a cold dinner. The lighters and the waterproof matches had been soaked during the day's struggles and would not light. Somehow the plastic bag had been left open. My dad does not have to write that Jerry was in charge of these things. More than 10 years of backpacking with my family tells me that Jerry held the matches. He was the one who made the fire, cooked the food, called us from our tents when the sun was just beginning to chase away the morning chill. He was the one who chose the routes, found the campsite, told us how close to the river we could pitch our tents. He was the one who held the map, named the stars, and warned us repeatedly about the three greatest threats in wilderness backpacking: lightning, sunstroke, and falling.
Day four. Jerry can no longer speak. His voice is a whisper, words slurring together. They decide over breakfast that they are in real trouble and need to head to Lake Takahula for help, a journey of 60 miles. Two retired school teachers live in a remote cabin in the woods near the lake with their dog and a satellite phone, information handed to my father and Jerry with their fishing licenses and now more precious than fuel.
This, then, is the way things are. My dad writes, "Jerry was gone part of the time." In these moments, he is utterly alone.
The last time I had seen my uncle was only a week or so before the Alaska trip. We had had a Sinor Family Reunion in Grand Island, Nebraska. My dad's younger brother, Keith, lives on a lake and the family gathered for a weekend of swimming and boating and beach picnics. The entire family was there, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, sweating under the midwestern sun while the black flies bit our ankles.
On the first morning of the reunion, I took a picture of my uncle and his family, the camera holding what would soon be lost. They were dressed in blue and stood in the shade. It is the intimacy of that moment, their bodies touching at the elbows, our eyes meeting through the lens, that I remember. All of us, for a fraction of time, holding the pose and each other.
Jerry was very thin. While his no-fat diet gave his prostate cancer little to invade, it left his body with little to live on. Each time I saw him, his belt was cinched tighter and his clothes hung more loosely from his limbs. Yet, he seemed strong. We all said so, watching him play badminton. Yes, we assured ourselves, he was well despite the drugs, the treatments, the long slide to immobility that is Parkinson's.
When the thunderstorm came, we all ran for the garage, carrying beach chairs and leftover food—all of us except Jerry. He headed in the opposite direction, to the lake, where waves were competing with each other to touch the sky. We saw him push off from the boat dock on the Jet Ski and ride to the center of the lake, where he whirled in tight circles as the lightning and the thunder began. We only pointed. Rain hit the tin roof like hail, making it impossible to hear one another. In my mind's eye, he raises his fist to the storm and transgresses, for a moment, his own mortality. He demands participation in life. He will not remain offstage for the drama. The lightning does not strike him down, and he grows in my eyes.
Remembering how this once thick man rode a Jet Ski like a weapon a week before he died, I recall also a moment of vulnerability in a small hotel near Lake Titticacca, our final day in Peru. We were all there: my brother, his wife, my mom and dad, Michael, my aunt, Jerry, his daughter and her husband, a group that typically fished together every summer, now staying in a motel that bordered the world's highest navigable lake. Because Jerry wanted to see Machu Picchu before he died, we spent our frequent flyer miles, hired a guide to take us on the Inca Trail, and found ourselves a year before his death exploring the city of Cuzco, the bellybutton of the world.
It was an amazing trip, but tiring, tiring for all of us—the altitude, the constant travel, the food, the water. We were weathered. On the last day, we were gathering our suitcases and backpacks one last time. Ivan, our guide, was trying to hustle us out of the hotel and into the van to Lima and our flight home. There was a chance we would miss the plane. The commotion—11 adults trying to get organized and into a van, some leaving that night, others the next day—filled the tiny lobby of the hotel and bounced against the low ceiling and narrow door. Amidst the chaos, Jerry came into the lobby, unsteady like a child, eyes wide in alarm. "Ivan, Ivan," he said, his voice matching the shakiness of his limbs, "I have lost my tickets."
We stopped, all of us, bags half-zipped, water bottles dangling at our sides, and looked to Jerry—the man whose knowledge and experience had seemed as boundless as space itself—willing him with our eyes not to reveal himself. Please, I thought, please do not show me this tender part of your belly. I do not want to know that you are anything except what you have ever been. I do not want you to be anything but whole.
Day four still. Afternoon. 67°44′ north latitude. The GPS places them, roots them to a locatable spot on the spinning globe, but they are far from motionless. They start the raft down a narrow chute. Rainfall, permafrost, and the many small creeks that run into the Alatna have conspired to create a torrent. Water rushes them headlong down the river, sweepers leaning like animals of prey, ready to pull them from the raft and send them into the roiling water. When they turn the corner and see the giant shale outcrop, a wall of rock that cuts across the chute, they can do nothing but slam into it. The raft buckles and climbs the wall; my dad, in front, is thrown out of the raft and pulled under the outcrop. Somehow the raft, too, goes under or around or over. No one knows. When my dad comes up for air, Jerry and the raft are also on the other side.
The bottom of the raft has been shredded, but miraculously neither my dad nor Jerry is seriously injured. They decide to camp for the night while they try to repair the raft with duct tape. Jerry repeatedly suggests that they just walk to the car and go home. Unable to stand at all, Jerry gathers wood on his hands and knees in hopes of building a fire to warm my father.
That night Jerry insists that they find their location on the GPS. My dad argues, seeing no point in knowing their longitude when their only choice is to head south on the river, but Jerry will not surrender the point. Finally, my dad agrees and they find the coordinates of the camp.
I wonder at Jerry's insistence. Is it, in a sense, the final act of caretaking in a life dedicated to securing the safety of others, of making sure there is order in the world before leaving it? Or is it because he feels at some deep level that a final resting place should be a known place, a place that holds itself, in its specificity, its repeatability, against the vastness that is the Alaskan wilds, the vastness of the universe? Or is it because his mind, cast to sea, unable to latch onto anyone or anything long enough to recover rationality, holds the GPS like a flotation device, willing the linear to return? For whatever reason, Jerry insists, and because of his insistence, we, as a family, will be able to return someday to that shore, to those willows, to those rocks, and stand in the thicket where he lay down to die.
My dad gets Jerry ready for bed, dressing him in his long johns and tucking him into his sleeping bag, as he had done for me as a child, perhaps as Jerry had once done for him. Hours later, from his own tent, my dad hears Jerry struggling with the zipper on his tent. "What are you doing?" he asks. And Jerry responds that he wants to try his new fly line. The first coherent words in more than a day. My dad takes them as a sign that the new Parkinson's drugs are kicking in. "Go to bed," he says. And this time, when my dad lays down to sleep, it is the sleep of release. Things will be okay, he tells himself. The drugs are working.
In the early morning hours of July 15, my dad hears Jerry struggle again with the zipper on his tent. When he goes over and asks Jerry what he is doing, Jerry responds, "What are you doing here?" My dad repeats the question; Jerry repeats the answer. Unlike all the other times in which my dad has explained that they are in the middle of Alaska trying to get home and Jerry has responded that he knows but has just forgotten, this time Jerry never returns to the here. He remains there, wherever there is, and wonders what my dad is doing at his side.
When the sun comes up the next day, Jerry has disappeared.
My dad spends two hours looking for him, following his footprints, worrying that he tried to go fishing and has been pulled into the Alatna. But fishing was not what Jerry had in mind. Jerry's boot tracks lead north and west of their tents, meandering for close to 50 yards, until they stop near the river. By following his trail, my father finds his brother curled up like a baby in a thicket of willows some yards from the river. Jerry has been careful to lie down next to the willows rather than on them, sharing the ground, choosing a place. Sometime in the night he had reached into his dry bag, to the very bottom, and put on his "going home" clothes, the clean shirt and pants meant for the plane ride back. Earlier in the evening, he could not zip his tent. Now he had laced his own boots. Clothes clean, no sign of a fall or struggle, he is holding a small branch in his hand, holding it like you might a walking stick.
My dad, who must serve simultaneously as brother, oarsman, and priest, blesses the land and loads the boat. In this story, the heroes do not live to see another day. I know my father well enough to know that such an ending is unacceptable.
Jerry was diagnosed with Parkinson's in 1995. The following August my extended family backpacked in the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness of Colorado. It was the first backpacking trip since Jerry's diagnosis and the first since my divorce. Loss, it seems, is democratic.
That we would both carry on with our lives was never a question. His illness and my failed marriage did not even warrant conversation. No one said anything to either of us. We hiked, fished, and ate as we always had. Around the campfire we talked about books, or legal questions, or politics, or what the fish seemed to be biting this year. At times I wanted to scream, hold out my emptiness like an amputated limb and demand it be acknowledged, but instead I stirred the soup in my cup and waited for it to cool.
On the last day, we were breaking camp for the final climb out to the cars. Everyone was busy stuffing backpacks, filtering water, or laying ground cloths in the sun to dry. My aunt and I were folding the tent that I had shared in the past with my husband. We were absorbed in one of the greatest pleasures of backpacking—the economy with which you travel, the fact that each thing has its own place—and all seemed fine.
I looked over at Jerry who was busy attending to his own possessions and those of the community. He looked as he had always looked. But then so did I. To anyone else, we were the same as ever. I walked over to him.
What I said was, "I am sorry that you have Parkinson's." What I meant was thank you for taking me into the natural world and showing me how mountains rest their tired bodies against one another and rivers scrape out plains the size of entire states, how meteors return like swallows every year in August to flash across the sky and wildflowers fill valleys so that you can no longer see the trail. What I meant was that I hoped he would find peace, that he would always be able to recognize himself, that he would not be in pain. What I meant was that I felt like I was a failure because John had left me, that sometimes when I sat very still on my couch at home, loneliness suffocated me, that I could not understand how things would ever feel okay again. What I meant was that I was scared. What I meant was that I would bear witness to his loss in hopes that he would bear witness to mine.
After getting my uncle's body into the raft, my dad pushes off. For 60 miles, he would be thrown from the raft some 30 or 40 times, each time fearing he would lose the raft, his brother's body, his only way home. Sandbars would catch him and roll his body across their stretches, wearing holes in his neoprene waders and gloves and plunging him repeatedly into ice-cold water. A night and a day would pass. Finally, after wandering for miles in the woods, he would find the cabin with the satellite phone.
About pushing off from the site where Jerry died, my dad writes, "By luck, not by plan, Jerry was facing me for the rest of the trip." With no one else to talk to and a river that seemed to wish them gone, my father turns one last time to his brother for support and begins to talk. For close to two days, he paddles, swims, climbs, falls, and tells stories. Perhaps, he recalls moments from their childhood: throwing rocks over the barn, swimming in the irrigation ditch, the taste of tomatoes fresh from the vine. Perhaps, he thanks Jerry for going to college and showing him and his siblings another way of being in the world, a life different from anything my father had imagined while inoculating pigs and driving the tractor through the corn. Perhaps, he describes the scenery as they move from tundra into boreal forests, into the winking greens of the white and black spruce. I know he sang songs, and I know my father well enough to know that when he forgot the words to "Tom Dooley" or "John Henry," he made them up, fanciful songs about heroes and lovers and trains that go all night. I know my father told Jerry he loved him.
In his journal he writes, "We talked," blurring once again the boundary between here and there. And for this I am grateful. Because when I think of what my father went through, what it would have been like to make the trip to Takahulu, the only comfort I can take is in knowing my father had company. As he had several nights before over the campfire, my dad brings all of us onto the raft, a raft on which Jerry is not dead and they are not alone. Weaving together stories of the past, he creates a net that holds all of us, a net that carries him to safety, to home.
The morning my father arrives at Lake Takahulu, I write in my journal that I am going rafting in two days down the Snake River. Worried that the time away from my desk is time poorly spent, I imagine writing an essay about the experience, what it is like to float down a river that begins in the mountains and runs to the sea. Mostly I complain about the dog and how easily I am distracted by household projects. Still, this is the last entry I make before I learn of Jerry's death, the last recorded narrative of what my life was like when Jerry was alive, my father whole, and my son the size of a period.
I like to imagine that at the very moment Jerry died, my son Aidan was conceived, so that for the briefest moment, the past, present, and future stood together and recognized one another. I like to imagine that the suffering my dad experienced, pain that has haunted him every day since his return, is measured out among us, so that we all carry part of the burden. I like to imagine that the stories I tell here, like the stories my dad told me as a child and the ones he recited as a way to remain sane on the river, have the power to reach across distance and time and death to connect me to him, and him to Jerry, and Jerry to Aidan. Jerry can no longer tell his story and I must carry Aidan's for him until he is older. Someday he will carry mine and I will tell my father's and loss will be found in language.
Jennifer Sinor is an essayist and a professor of English at Utah State University.


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text:
import py

def test_fixture_graph_created(testdir):
    """Check that --fixture-graph will create the graph .dot file"""
    sub1 = testdir.mkpydir("sub1")
    sub2 = testdir.mkpydir("sub1/sub2")
    sub1.join("conftest.py").write(py.code.Source("""
        import pytest

        @pytest.fixture
        def arg1(request):
            pass
    """))
    sub2.join("conftest.py").write(py.code.Source("""
        import pytest

        @pytest.fixture
        def arg1(request):
            pass
    """))
    sub1.join("test_in_sub1.py").write("def test_1(arg1): pass")
    sub2.join("test_in_sub2.py").write("def test_2(arg1): pass")

    result = testdir.runpytest_subprocess('--fixture-graph', '-s')

    result.stdout.fnmatch_lines("created artifacts/fixture-graph-sub1-test_in_sub1.py__test_1.dot.")
    result.stdout.fnmatch_lines('created artifacts/fixture-graph-sub1-sub2-test_in_sub2.py__test_2.dot.')

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


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Methods of Many Colors: Targeting Audiences Programmatically
By Michael Goldberg
Former Marketing Director, Sales & Marketing, Master Data & Analytics
Part 4 of the "Programmatic Matters" Series examines how to use data to paint an ideal customer picture and steer advertising choices.
The ability to reach the right audience with the right message at the right time may sound cliché, but it exemplifies the true promise of programmatic. Unlike traditional forms of advertising, programmatic advertising is delivered on an individual level. It enables marketers to find and target users based on individual characteristics, behaviors and affinities no matter where they are on the Web. This is all made possible by data – the insights that help you make the most informed targeting decisions. Without data, targeting would be like trying to find a needle in a hoarder's house (because who really has haystacks anymore?).
In Part 3 of our "Programmatic Matters" series, we examined the different types of data available to marketers. Now it's time to put those insights to work. When it comes to programmatic, there are several types of targeting strategies you can choose to employ. While each method varies slightly based on your desired goals, they all have one thing in common: They are focused on the customer and not the context.
If data can paint a picture of what your ideal customer looks like, and lets you spend less money to reach them on a site you know they visit, why wouldn't you do just that?
Before the advent of programmatic, advertising was more focused on the "where" versus the "who." Just ask Don Draper. The critically acclaimed drama Mad Men romanticized advertising's golden age, but it seemed to be all about the creative, not the placement. Not much attention was paid to ensuring that those elaborate, alcohol-infused creative ideas actually reached the right audience. Sure, they had primitive research panels to get a better understanding of their target audience, but at the end of the day, media buys were made based on the most likely places where ad executives thought they could reach those ideal customers. Ads for cars were placed in the pages of men's magazines, while adverts for laundry machines were typically featured in women's publications. Hey, I do laundry too, Mr. 1960's Ad Exec.
Strangely, things did not change much with the introduction of the Internet and the rise of display advertising. While creative went from being high-gloss, full-page spreads to clickable squares and rectangles, media buyers still used Mad Men era tactics, choosing to run their ads on websites they thought reached their desired audience. This method is still quite possible, even through programmatic channels, though it is best to buy these ads directly through the publisher if you are hung up on having your brand message appear on a particular site; you can probably negotiate better placements. But that's becoming less prevalent, thanks to the ability to measure and optimize campaigns based on user data and real-time results.
If data can paint a picture of what your ideal customer looks like, and lets you spend less money to reach them on a site you know they visit, why wouldn't you do just that? And the more data you have, the better chances you have at honing in on the right audience. Data increases in value at an exponential rate when you are able to add additional, related data sets to the user profile. This is when targeting becomes truly powerful and what makes programmatic so valuable.
Just like data, targeting comes in many varieties. You can target users by looking at individual traits or behaviors, or you can target users by looking at external variables that may come into play when defining your ideal customer.
Here is a quick rundown of ad-targeting methods that can be executed in a programmatic environment.
One of the most popular techniques currently being used by digital advertisers, audience targeting involves buying and serving ads to a specific audience segment, whether it's gender, household income, age group, education level, relationship status or hundreds of other specific demographic attributes. The information is typically derived from a combination of both first-party and third-party data, and can easily be selected when deciding how much to bid on available media inventory.
Where audience targeting takes into account what a person looks like, behavioral targeting focuses on what a person does. This is the process of selecting prospects based on their online activities and specific actions they've taken a website. Most commonly, these are measurable Web events like what pages a person has visited, what products they've viewed or what conversion events they've attempted.
Audience and behavioral targeting are essentially people-based methods of targeting, but they also come into play in other targeting approaches. Using these attributes, marketers can go even deeper to find users based on how and where they are browsing the Web.
Retargeting has earned a less-than-stellar reputation as most people associate it with those ads that follow you across the Web. You know the ones. You looked at a pair of sneakers for a few seconds and now every site you see has ads for those exact same pair of kicks. But in spite of its negative association, retargeting happens to be very effective. In fact, 90% of marketers say it's as effective as search. With programmatic, you can evaluate and bid on individual users who have already visited your site, letting you effectively buy audiences at scale by matching behavioral cookie data with it.
Just what its name implies, geotargeting is the method of delivering highly specialized and highly targeted messages that are customized based on identity and behavioral profiles layered onto a specific geographic area, down to the ZIP code level. It also often enables targeting by IP address.
Cross-Device
Cross-device targeting is the ability to serve targeted advertising to prospects across multiple digital devices based on an understanding of how and when they may be using a specific device. Essentially, it's another flavor of retargeting because it enables you to retarget an ad on one device, knowing buyers have seen an ad or visited your site on another device. Naturally, there are more complexities involved in this form of targeting.
Similar to the traditional method of buying advertising based on editorial relevance, contextual targeting looks at the category or keywords of a website page a customer is viewing and then serves them ads that are highly relevant to that content. The difference is marketers can bid on specific keywords and topics across the Web and have their ad served next to related articles.
Determining which targeting tactic is right for you comes down to defining what your campaign goals are and what your budget is. Each of these methods offers the opportunity to deliver messages at scale without blowing through your ad budget.
In Part 5, we will discuss some of the different methods you can use to advertise programmatically.
Image credit: "Modern Languages at Finger Lakes Community College - Costa Rica 2013" by The LEAF Project, Flickr http://ow.ly/SAiaq
Programmatic: So Many Ways to Buy
B2B Marketers See the Promise of Programmatic (Infographic)
Data: The Key Ingredient of Programmatic
Understanding the Programmatic Ecosystem
B2B Lead Generation: Optimize Strategy in 4 StepsThe EditorsNovember 12, 2019These four lead generation strategies can help B2B marketers make bolder decisions that generate real results.Read More
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Last edited by Doujinn
Saturday, May 9, 2020 | History
2 edition of What We Mean by Religion found in the catalog.
What We Mean by Religion
Ira Eisenstein
by Ira Eisenstein
Published January 1, 1958 by Reconstructionist Press .
RELIGION_PHILOSOPHY,
Religion / Philosophy
Feb 24, · what are the four books of religion? i know the holy quran, bible and the torah but what is the last one? The 'Four Books of Religion' are the Quran, the Bible, the Torah, and the Tao Te Ching (a Chinese book of philosophy/religion) 0 1 5. Login to reply the answers Post; It's Just Me! Lv 4. We have but one book, The Bible. 0 0 0. Aug 17, · Where Does Religion Come From? In advance of the book's September 15 publication, we talked to Bellah about his recent work and some of his .
Jul 24, · When researching for my book Riveted: The Science of Why Jokes Make Us Laugh, Movie Make Us Cry, and Religion Makes Us Feel One with the Universe, I . Mar 22, · That's what I mean by slaveholder religion; My son and my grandfather embody very different ways of sharing the faith that we have in common. So I close the book with a letter to both of.
We Believe Grade 6 - Chapter 10 A Conquering People Learn with flashcards, games, and more — for free. Search. What book shows us that even in difficult times people can live out the covenant and remain faithful to God? Religion - We Believe Grade 6 - Chapter 10, Study Guide 39 Terms. vsaitta. ICS Grade 6 Religion Chapter 10 Test means we have written a book which we believe to be spiritual as well as moral. And it means, of course, that we are going to talk about God. Here difficulty arises with agnostics. Many times we talk to a new man and watch his hope rise as we discuss his alcoho-licproblems and .
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What We Mean by Religion by Ira Eisenstein Download PDF EPUB FB2
People of the Book/Scripture (Arabic: أهل الكتاب  ′Ahl al-Kitāb) is an Islamic term which refers to Jews, Christians and Sabians. It is also used in Judaism to refer to the Jewish people and by members of some Christian denominations to refer to themselves.
The Quran uses the term in reference to Jews, Christians and Sabians in a variety of contexts, from religious polemics to. Religion (from greggdev.com religion religious community, from L. religionem (nom.
religio) "respect for what is sacred, reverence for the gods, sense of right, moral obligation, sanctity", "obligation, the bond between man and the gods") is derived from the Latin religiō, the ultimate origins of which are. Note: Citations are based on reference standards. However, formatting rules can vary widely between applications and fields of interest or study.
The specific requirements or preferences of your reviewing publisher, classroom teacher, institution or organization should be applied. 'If people believe in religion it means What We Mean by Religion book don't believe in science.' 'We had been schooled to dismiss them as being objects of religion, ritual and superstition.' 'I am a person for whom religion has never been important in my life, and I am really scared of the power of religion now.'.
One World, Many Religions: The Ways We Worship [Mary Pope Osborne] on greggdev.com *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Religious understanding is as important today than any other time in history. In this highly acclaimed bookCited by: 3. The Religions Book: Big Ideas Simply Explained [DK] on greggdev.com *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers.
Surveying the world's religions, from Buddhism to Zoroastrianism, and providing succinct yet thought-provoking insight into the philosophy and practices of each/5(). We all talk about it, but historian Sommerville says we don't do so in the right way.
This work seeks to end the confusion in American public life over what religion is by studying the definit. I guess The Religion is a good title it's cryptic and kinda ominous sounding and does have a connection to the actual contents of the story.
Despite that, I think that Fucking, Killing & Shitting: Malta might be a bit more appropriate here. While I can certainly agree all three of those things are an unavoidable part of life and can be an enjoyable part of fiction, I really don't think /5.
When we attribute prescience to God, we mean that all things always were, and ever continue, under his eye; that to his knowledge there is no past or future, but all things are present, and indeed so present, that it is not merely the idea of them that is before him (as those objects are which we retain in our memory), but that he truly sees.
Mar 19, · Below is a selection of definitions of "religion" from a variety of sources. While no one definition can completely sum up what religion is, together they can bring one to a closer understanding of what we mean when we talk about "religion.".
Jan 17, · 'Why Religion?' Asks 'How Hearts Can Heal' After Tragedy Religion scholar Elaine Pagels lost her young son to terminal illness and her husband a year later in.
Religion is a cultural system that establishes symbols that relate humanity to spirituality and moral values. Many religions have narratives, symbols, traditions and sacred histories that are intended to give meaning to life or to explain the origin of life or the universe.
Learn religion 6th grade chapter 6 we believe with free interactive flashcards. Choose from different sets of religion 6th grade chapter 6 we believe flashcards on Quizlet. Oct 19, · 1. Christianity ( billion followers) - The Holy Bible (Old Testament and New Testament) 2.
Islam ( billion followers) - The Quran 3. Hinduism (1 billion followers) - The Vedas 4. Buddhism ( million followers) - Tripitaka (Pali Canon) 5. Religion Definition or The True Meaning Of The Word Religion.
We need more people to understand the correct definition of religion and the ultimate meaning of the word religion. The word religion comes from the Latin and while there are a few different translations, the most prevalent roots take you back to the Latin word "Re-Ligare". Discover the best bookstore online—shop over 6 million books and million eBooks.
Receive FREE shipping with your Barnes & Noble Membership. Jan 02, · Question: "What is pure and undefiled religion (James )?" Answer: In Jamesthe apostle James gives us insight into what pleases God: "Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world" (NASB).
The word for "undefiled" is translated "faultless" in the NIV. A religion is a set of beliefs that is passionately held by a group of people that is reflected in a world view and in expected beliefs and actions (which are often ritualized). There are many different religions, each with a different set of beliefs.
The beliefs are about the world and the people in it, about how they came into being, and what their purpose is. Jan 08, · Fortunately, the answer is 'no', for we can recognise and respect complexity without being confused about what we mean by each term.
In this chapter, which completes the first section of the book, we will explore why thinking about religious and cultural factors in global affairs is as integral as the other issues we have covered thus far.
A detailed introduction to ancient Greek religion. Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. Hesperides Press are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern.
The rapidly approaching world order will (initially) be an integrated mix of governmental and religious authority. The world will not only come under the control of a one world government, but it will also be subject to control from a one world religion.
On the heels of the Rapture and the War of Gog and Magog, the world will experience the supernatural in a way it will have no context other.Nov 17, · We all know what religion is - or do we? Confronted with religious pluralism and cultural diversity, it manifests itself in many forms. What is Religion?
serves not only as an introduction to the different belief systems flourishing throughout the modern world, but asks us to consider how the very boundaries of faith might be drawn now and in the future.Nov 09, · Is Judaism A Religion Or A Culture? Conference on Moses Mendelssohn, new book fuel debate on thorny issues of faith, identity.
greggdev.com - What We Mean by Religion book © 2020


Can body condition score be used to refine worm control?
Anthelmintics are typically used to control worms and combat their deleterious effects on productivity, but inappropriate use has resulted in widespread resistance of worms to available anthelmintic treatment groups (Sutherland and Scott 2010). Adoption of new management strategies is required to slow the development of anthelmintic resistance. One potential strategy includes leaving a proportion of a flock untreated, which allows non-resistant (susceptible) worms to survive and thus slows the rate at which resistant genes accumulate in the worm population (Kenyon et al. 2009). The most appropriate indicator for selecting sheep that are to remain untreated is not clear. It is widely believed that sheep with a high body condition score (BCS) are better able to cope with worms (i.e., they have higher worm resilience) than sheep with low BCS, but little field research has been undertaken to verify this. Worm resilience is the ability to maintain an acceptable level of production despite a worm burden (Bisset et al. 2001). Figure 1 demonstrates a hypothetical relationship between BCS and worm egg counts (WECs) for worm resilient and non-resilient sheep.


The climbs along Turnagain Arm form on the walls along the Seward Highway. These climbs all exist directly south from Anchorage and north of Girdwood. Many of the climbs can be dangerous as the belays can sometimes be within several feet of highway traffic. Additionally, falling ice from climbers can be hazardous for the highway traffic. Areas like Candyland offer a nice alternative to the mostly nervous climbing on the Turnagain Arm.


1- The earthly, man-made religions are fashioned as per the whims of its authors, imams, fabricators, and inventors who own such religions based on Satanist, devilish revelations falsely ascribed to God, Muhammad, or attributed to the so-called infallible, sanctified, deified imams of the earthly religions. This is why these false religions contradict one another and their books are filled with contradictions. Yet, all these devilish religion are unified in the stance of animosity and enmity toward God, the Quran, and Muhammad. Another element shared by such earthly, man-made religions despite their differences is deifying mortals and items/things – in violation of the Quranic Truth of monotheism. Apart from this common element, there are differences and disputes among the Egyptian Coptic Orthodox Church, the European Catholic Church, and Protestant churches, and the same goes for Shiite, Sufi, and Sunnite religions.
2- Shiites consider their erroneous notion of Taqiyya as part and parcel of their religion; this Shiite notion is not found in the Sunnite religion, and it differs totally from the Quranic notion of Taqiyya.
3- The Sunnite religion has been established within the protection of authority, and it expresses and defends authority of caliphs and rulers. In contrast, the Shiite religion has been established within the resistance movements that oppose authority and conspire against it. this means that hypocritical Shiites had to flatter any Sunnite established authority hated by them in order to scheme its destruction. This flattery and hypocrisy evolved into a Shiite religious ritual called Taqiyya: to show in public the exact opposite of one's feelings, intentions, and religious beliefs.
4- We briefly tackle this Shiite Taqiyya and show its contradiction with the real Quranic notion of Taqiyya.
1- Shiites never pay heed to the real Quranic notion of Taqiyya; the Shiite Taqiyya sharia legislations fashioned by Shiite imams by inventing false hadiths and intentionally misinterpreting Quranic verses – these are the bad habits of all imams and authors of the earthly religions of the Muhammadans. As far as we know, Shiite imams never tackled the Quranic verses related to the real Quranic notion of Taqiyya; rather, they misinterpreted verses related to the Quranic and Biblical stories of Abraham and Joseph, and their stories fabricated by Al-Bokhary; i.e., both the Old Testament and Al-Bokhary book accuse Abraham and Joseph of telling lies. These purported lies are seen by Shiites as Taqiyya; this has led them to twist and distort meanings of certain Quranic verses.
2- The major element in fashioning the Shiite Taqiyya has been invention of hadiths ascribed falsely to Muhammad, to Ali (i.e., the supreme deity in the Shiite pantheon of gods), to a Shiite imam called Jaffer Al-Sadiq, and to Alawites deemed as members of the so-called "household of Muhammad"; i.e., those who claimed to be among the descendants of the two sons of Ali and Fatima.
3- We analyze briefly the main Shiite hadiths of Taqiyya in the points below.
3/1: Shiites make their notion of Taqiyya as the climax or highest point in piety and faith! This is asserted in these hadiths by series of narrators: (... Nine out of ten parts of religion is Taqiyya; no one is deemed religious unless he practices Taqiyya ...). (... Abou Jaffer said that Taqiyya is my religion and the religion of my forefathers; no on pertains to faith unless he practices Taqiyya ...). (... No one is deemed pious, righteous, or religious unless he practices Taqiyya ...). This means that Shiites considered those who never practice Taqiyya as 'infidels' who never follow their religion, or their camp/side, and are thus ipso facto siding with the other camp of non-Shiites (i.e., Sunnites).
3/2: Accordingly, Shiites make Taqiyya as a type of jihad to face spies and policemen of Sunnite authority, and this jihad is linked to faith in these hadiths: (... You must hide your faith by Taqiyya; faithless are those who never practice Taqiyya ...). (... Taqiyya is the protective shield of the faithful ...). (...Taqiyya is the paradise of the faithful on earth ...).
3/3: Some Shiite hadiths about Taqiyya show the deep-seated fear of Sunnite authority and its representatives: (... Taqiyya is your citadel that will make your enemy never able to reach and harm you ...). (... Taqiyya is the best good deed of real believers to protect themselves against the infidels ...). (... A man does not belong to us if he does not practice Taqiyya to protect us against the base people ...).
3/5: Shiites practice this religious ritual called Taqiyya whenever necessary, as per these Shiite hadiths: (...Taqiyya is to be practiced by real believers whenever one feels it is urgent to do it ...). (... Taqiyya is permissible by Allah in all cases whenever necessary ...).
1- We are to remember that the Meccan Qorayish polytheists who persecuted the early believers did not only drove them out of their homes and possessions in Mecca, but also attacked them in Yathreb so as to force them to recant Islam: "...And persecution is more serious than killing. They will not cease to fight you until they turn you back from your religion, if they can..." (2:217).
2- We are to remember that some weak believers remained behind in Mecca and did not join the others in Yathreb, as we infer from this verse: "And why would you not fight in the cause of God, and the helpless men, and women, and children, cry out, "Our Lord, deliver us from this town whose people are oppressive, and appoint for us from Your Presence a Protector, and appoint for us from Your Presence a Victor."" (4:75). The oppressive Meccans of Qorayish polytheists persecuted them severely, and this included preventing them from entering certain mosques in Mecca and the Sacred Kaaba Mosque. some of these mosques had mausoleums and idols of saints/gods, as we know from this verse: "Who is more unjust than him who forbids the remembrance of God's name in places of worship, and contributes to their ruin? These ought not to enter them except in fear. For them is disgrace in this world, and for them is a terrible torment in the Hereafter." (2:114).
3- Those weak ones among the early believers in Mecca who were severely persecuted were allowed by God to utter words of disbelief and blasphemy to spare their lives and to avoid being tortured: "Whoever renounces faith in God after having believed-except for someone who is compelled, while his heart rests securely in faith-but whoever willingly opens up his heart to disbelief-upon them falls wrath from God, and for them is a tremendous torment." (16:106).
4- Some of them hid the fact that they were believers (men and women) so as not to be tortured and persecuted; their true faith is known only to God, and when Muhammad and his companions came from Yathreb to Mecca in peace with sacrificial animals to perform pilgrimage, a military confrontation was avoided so as to avoid bloodshed of those women and men who hid their faith, never known to Muhammad and his companions: "It is they who disbelieved, and barred you from the Sacred Mosque, and prevented the offering from reaching its destination. Were it not for faithful men and faithful women, whom you did not know, you were about to hurt them, and became guilty of an unintentional crime. Thus God admits into His mercy whomever He wills. Had they dispersed, We would have punished those who disbelieved among them with a painful torment." (48:25).
5- Those believing weak ones practiced the Quranic notion of Taqiyya in Islam – a notion never allowed for believers who enjoy security elsewhere; God prohibits that believers would ally themselves to aggressive enemies who attack them: "As for those who have not fought against you for your religion, nor expelled you from your homes, God does not prohibit you from dealing with them kindly and equitably. God loves the equitable. But God prohibits you from allying those who fought against you over your religion, and expelled you from your homes, and aided in your expulsion. Whoever takes them for allies - these are the unjust ones." (60:8-9). The weak believers avoided persecution and torture by God's permission of their overtly and verbally showing their support to and alliance with polytheists but NOT with their hearts, known only to the Omniscient Lord God, as we read in these verses of warning: "Believers are not to take disbelievers for friends instead of believers. Whoever does that has nothing to do with God, unless it is to protect your own selves against them. God warns you to beware of Him. To God is the destiny. Say, "Whether you conceal what is in your hearts, or disclose it, God knows it." He knows everything in the heavens and the earth. God is Powerful over everything." (3:28-29).
The hypocrites never apply the Quranic notion of Taqiyya; the reasons of this conclusion are explained in the points below.
1- There is no compulsion in religion in Islam. Religious and political persecution is prohibited in the Quran; hence, hypocrites in the Yathreb city-state enjoyed absolute religious freedom; even some of those who adhered to peaceful behavior in Yathreb but their faith was weak worshipped mausoleums and pagan idols as we infer from this verse that descended in Yathreb shortly after Muhammad went there: "...So stay away from the abomination of idols, and stay away from perjury." (22:30), and from these verses among the last ones descending in Yathreb shortly before Muhammad died: " O you who believe! Wine, gambling, idols, and mausoleums are abominations of Satan's doing. Avoid them, so that you may prosper. Satan wants to provoke strife and hatred among you through wine and gambling, and to prevent you from the remembrance of God, and from prayer. Will you not desist? Obey God and obey the messenger, and be cautious. If you turn away - know that the duty of Our messenger is clear communication." (5:90-92).
2- Male and female hypocrites in Yathreb had absolute political freedom since they never raised arms or became violent at all; they spread vice and advised against goodness (see 9:67), verbally abused Muhammad (see 9:61), and established harmful mosques that were centers of scheming and conspiracies (see 9:107-101). Despite their freedom to utter words of blasphemy and disbelief, their opposition movements and conspiracies against the Yathreb city-state the ensured their rights failed (see 9:48 and 9:74); they ridiculed God, the Quran and Muhammad (see 9:65-66 and 63:8); they ridiculed the believers and demanded shares from the money of charity, and Muhammad asked God to pardon them (see 9:79-80); and they used their religious and political freedom to conspire and plot disobedience and evils to undermine Muhammad and Islam (see 58:8-10).
3- Hypocrites were sinners and sinners who used to swear by God's name falsely (see 4:62, 9:42, 9:56, 9:74, 58:16, and 63:2) to preserve their stature and authority in Yathreb, because they were the affluent class who managed and controlled everything before Muhammad and the early believers settled there and the conditions and circumstances changed. These affluent hypocrites had to feign a conversion to the new religion to preserve their social and political status and they enjoyed absolute religious and political freedom since they were peaceful ones who never raised arms against anyone, but they used to swear by God's name falsely to hide their true feelings and to please disbelievers (see 9:62 and 9:95-96).
1- The Taqiyya of hypocrites means secretly conspiring and scheming of evil despite enjoying absolute religious and political freedom of showing opposition peacefully.
2- The Taqiyya of Shiites means secretly conspiring and scheming against the Sunnite tyrannical authority that practiced compulsion in religion.
3- The Quranic Taqiyya in Islam explained in 3:28-29, to protect oneself against oppressive tyrants, is part of the great Islamic sharia laws.


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Elizabeth Warren to appear at fundraiser for Tammy Baldwin Saturday in Milwaukee
Bill Glauber
Facing a tough re-election fight in 2018, Democratic U.S. Sen. Tammy Baldwin will get a big cash boost Saturday afternoon with a fundraising event headlined by U.S. Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.).
The fundraiser will be held at Good City Brewing, a Democratic Party operative confirmed. The two senators will not hold a joint public appearance.
"It's no surprise that Senator Baldwin is turning to an east-coast liberal like Elizabeth Warren to help her raise money and pick Washington over Wisconsin," said Alec Zimmerman, spokesman for the Republican Party of Wisconsin. "Both Warren and Baldwin would dramatically raise taxes on hard-working Wisconsin families through their extreme far-left fantasies, like government-run health care and its $32 trillion price tag."
Delafield businessman Kevin Nicholson and state Sen. Leah Vukmir of Brookfield are the only announced candidates for the Republican senate primary next year.


Thanks for your question. I'm sorry about your son's milk allergy, but there are several ways for him to receive adequate calcium and vitamin D in his diet without dairy.
Soy milk is fortified with calcium and vitamin D and would be a good substitute. Most soy milks contain 30% of the DRI (dietary reference intake) for calcium, which means it is an excellent source of calcium. Toddlers ages 1-3 require 500 mg calcium/day, which can easily be met with 2-3 servings of a calcium-fortified food.
Vitamin D requirements are 600 IU/day for toddlers. The American Academy of Pediatrics advises that all breastfed infants continue to receive 400 IU vitamin D/day until they are able to consume either vitamin D fortified formula or whole milk. Check with your pediatrician about the potential need for vitamin D replacement given your son's milk allergy.
Go to the Children's Health health topic.


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Netflix's Ted Bundy Documentary Trailer
Netflix's Ted Bundy Documentary Is Made To Give You Chills
Natalie Morin
Photo: Courtesy of Getty Images.
Netflix is taking full advantage of our obsession with true crime — more specifically, our growing obsession with charismatic killers.
The streaming service released the first trailer for Conversations With a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, and it's just as chilling as you'd expect. The four-part series centres around the infamous serial killer, known for his good looks, charm, and for having brutally slain over 30 women in the '70s. Directed by Joe Berlinger, the documentary series weaves together exclusive audio interviews of Bundy that were conducted while he was on death row in Florida in 1980.
The series promises never-before-heard insight into Bundy's motivations from his perspective, which has confused the public for decades. After all, one of the main facets of Bundy's trial was that to many, he defied the traditional serial-killer stereotype — one of the key reasons he stayed evaded capture for as long as he did. "He didn't look like anybody's notion of somebody who would tear apart young girls," says an unnamed interviewee in the opening of the trailer.
It's truly the year of Ted Bundy, as Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, a feature film about Bundy starring Zac Efron, is due to premiere at Sundance Film Festival. The movie will also be directed by Berlinger.
Conversations With a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, will be available on the 24th January - the 30th anniversary of Ted Bundy's execution.
Conversations With A Killer Ted Bundy Tapes Trailer
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written by Natalie Morin


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Jobs in North Holland, Amsterdam
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Tenured associate or full Professor in Environmental Economics
Category Research / Academic
Location Amsterdam
The Amsterdam School of Economics (ASE) of the Faculty of Economics and Business (FEB) is looking for a Tenured associate or full Professor in Environmental Economics.
Candidates are expected to equally contribute to research and teaching. Teaching will be at both the undergraduate (BSc) and the graduate (MSc) level and may range from first-year tutorials to teaching PhD courses. The majority of the school's teaching is conducted in English, also at the undergraduate level; non-Dutch speakers only teach in English. Research is expected to be aimed at international top journals, in line with the research fellow criteria of the Tinbergen Institute.
Highly-motivated candidates with outstanding research and teaching qualities in the area of environmental economics are welcome to apply. Candidates will be evaluated on their potential for and/or record of excellence in research and teaching.
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Appointment will be on a permanent basis. Both full-time and part-time appointments are possible.
Initial salary is between €5,039 and €9,812 gross per month (+16.3% holiday and end-year payments). This is based on 38 hours per week and in accordance with the Collective Labour Agreement of Dutch Universities regulating employment conditions at Dutch universities. A substantial reduction in income tax (equal to 30% of taxable salary) may apply to non-Dutch appointees. The UvA offers a very attractive pension scheme.
32 - 38 hours per week
Roetersstraat 11
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STRENGTHS: Scaling up psychological interventions with Syrian refugees
Ground-based remote sensing of greenhouse gases and aerosols
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18 years young, Phillinka died on October 18 last year. At the time, at her anguished mother's request I wrote of the loss of Phillinka and of so many others in the Kimberley. I am once again in the Kimberley – surrounded by the most pristine nature and by the loss of so many young lives. For the First Peoples of the Kimberley – for Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islanders – the Kimberley has among the world's highest self-harm and suicide rates.
While in the Kimberley, I am writing this for Phillinka, for her mother Lena, for all those whom she left behind, who are at a loss, and for those since Phillinka who have been lost to suicide.
If you are an Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander in this nation and aged 15 to 35 years, one in three deaths in this age group will be registered as a suicide. It is this age group's leading cause of death. This is an abomination, moral and otherwise, an obvious indictment of our governments.
This tragic statistic should galvanise the nation – our governments – into comprehensive responses.
Suicide is a humanitarian crisis among Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander peoples however ever so little is being done by one government after another. In many ways our governments are making it worse, on the one hand effectively neglecting this tragedy while they wax lyrical about how much they care and on the other hand they have all the wrong people and policies piecemeal responding to this tragedy but going backwards. This tragedy is indeed an indictment of our governments and of the national consciousness.
Professor Tom Calma said, "In the mid-1980s 99 Aboriginal deaths in custody prompted a Royal Commission and the current tragedy of Indigenous suicides should prompt similar attention. While some attention is being paid by governments more needs to be done to address the determinants that contribute to the psychological stressors that afflict Indigenous society."
On average over 130 Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander people ended their lives each year in the last five years. This is 30 per cent more suicides than in the ten years preceding. One in 19 Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander deaths is accounted for by suicide. But because of under-reporting issues we know that the rate is much higher. I estimate that it is between one in 10 to one in 12 suicides.
What will it take for our governments and the nation to prioritise this pressing tragedy?
How many young people such as Phillinka must be lost before this nation is disturbed into action? As I write this article, at the forefront are the facts that Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander people of the Kimberley and far north Queensland have the nation's highest suicide rates – over 70 suicides per 100,000 population – seven times the Australian overall national trend, with some parts of these regions with suicide rates up to 20 times. In the last five years in the Kimberley there have been registered as many suicides as were registered in the preceding ten years.
While in the Kimberley I have been meeting with community leaders and suicide affected families and have been heartbroken by their stories. They describe no support or standby whatsoever despite the tragedy of losing a loved one. I do realise that many services are themselves at a loss as to what to do because they are overstretched and underfunded.
It was yesterday that I sat on a rocky patch here in the Kimberley and cried after hearing a couple of mothers' stories. It is not really like me to cry but this morning I cried again. I will tell you more.
I write again of Phillinka who died last year, October 18. There are no words for her loss. Phillinka was resilient, she was enthusiastic and she was from a large family – with a father and mother who loved her dearly. She had completed boarding school in Melbourne, at Wesley, through Yirimalay.
Her mother Lena Andrews said, "There was no-one there for us but our family, ourselves. There were no standby services, there was no-one to guide us through our grief."
"Once again it was just families supporting families but all our families are broken by suicide, by our children jailed. We are a broken people. It cannot be this way but it is. I have lost my beautiful daughter and the pain does not go away."
"This year I have lost my mother and my sister, more pain and no-one there for us."
"I have considered suicide but my children keep me going."
"I have had you listening and to call."
The federal government should be rushing to prioritise this crisis above all else, a crisis that is shaming this nation. If this crisis is not abated, this maddening crisis is the starkest portrayal of a racist nation. There are no excuses to hide behind, no justifications, other than heartlessness.
During the last couple of years, The National Indigenous Times, The National Indigenous Radio Service (I no longer work for either of these outlets) and the online independent news site, The Stringer have led the way in sustaining the coverage on the suicide crises that most media did not utter a word about. In the last year, there has been significant coverage, particularly in The Australian newspaper, led by journalists, Paige Taylor, Andrew Burrell and Natasha Robinson, and also in the ABC, led particularly by the 7:30 Report's Bronwyn Herbert.
Three years ago, through the National Indigenous Times I brought to the nation's attention that the suicide rate among Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islanders is likely as high as one in 12 of all deaths, a horrific suicide rate. How could this be possible in the world's 12th largest economy, in one of the world's wealthiest nations? But Walmajarri and Bunaba Kimberley mother, Lena Andrews, can tell you why.
"Racism," stated Ms Andrews.
"Our people are smashed by it, hurt by it, tortured by it. This is a nation of two peoples. The First Peoples and the Australian peoples and unless First Peoples do as they're told then they are punished by every means imaginable."
Ms Andrews lost her 18 year old daughter, Phillinka Powdrill, to suicide. Phillinka was buried in her hometown of Fitzroy Crossing. But Philinka was not someone without capacity, without bright hope for the future. Philinka had just graduated from a Melbourne boarding school.
"Our people need 'resilience' to cope with the racism that hurts this nation. We need resilience to deal with how we are looked at, viewed, treated, and not just by governments who are in the end responsible for the lot that is racism, but also we need inexhaustible resilience in our daily ordeals with ordinary people who have soaked up the prejudices of one generation after another."
"We did not expect to lose Philinka. But we did. We did not expect to bury our child. Our hearts are breaking, and we do not know who to turn to. We do not know what to do."
"One minute she is here, next minute she is gone. Our people can only cope with so much and for only so long.
"Our people are under attack every day. Governments just do not stop. It is one attack on us after another. They want to shut down our communities. They want to move us around, off our lands. They want to manage us, to do this and that to us. How much can we take, how much can we deal with, how much focus on the colour of our skin or on our identity can we deal with and stay resilient? It takes a toll on us to be made to feel different, to be made unequal and to be treated like we are shit."
"Governments need to understand, that assimilation will kill many of our people, as it is doing every day all around us, and where it literally doesn't kill our people, it will crush our people, as it is doing."
"Our people are homeless, they are turned away, they fill the prisons, and they are battered and bruised. Their only hope in this terribly racist nation is to turn away from one's own, and turn on each other, and get in bed with effectively the racists, whether they are governments or whomever."
"We are dying."
Ms Andrews, a former radio broadcaster in the Kimberley, has a 23 year old son in a Perth prison who I will be visiting next week. She worries whether her son will make it out alive. However, it is ten times more likely that he may lose his life in the first year post-release. Prison is a harsh punitive experience where in general people come out worse than they went in.
A damning statistic is that no less than one in ten and more likely closer to one in six of Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islanders living today have been to prison. One in six! This too is an abomination, moral and otherwise. It is racialised imprisonment. It is racism.
Phillinka was born in October 1996, but just a little over 18 years later she would take her life. Five weeks passed between Philinka's death and her burial. The family fought for her brother to be released for the day of the funeral of his sister but Corrective Services knocked this back.
"It broke our hearts, the decision to not let my son attend his sister's funeral has devastated us, compounded more anguish."
"He has been a victim of sexual abuse in prison, we are worried for him, we are now more worried than ever before."
"It is bullshit, just bullshit."
"How much can our people endure?"
"On top of this, the Coroner's office did not return my daughter's clothing which we did want returned. They destroyed it. They claimed it was contaminated. That's just more bullshit."
"My beautiful daughter is gone. We did everything that we could. Her graduation day at Wesley College (Melbourne) feels like yesterday."
The National Indigenous Times allowed me to use my foray into journalism to highlight the suicide crises rife among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities. Indeed, this newspaper allowed for advocacy journalism, for sustained coverage and has knocked up a long overdue national conversation. As a result of this coverage and my personal lobbying behind the scenes with one government after another, I formally met with the Federal Government, in particular with the Minister for Indigenous Affairs, Senator Nigel Scullion, who has listened and has in turn funded the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Suicide Prevention Evaluation Project led by Indigenous Mental Health Commissioner Professor Pat Dudgeon and which includes myself as a researcher and community consultant, among other very good people. We are working, at speed, to not only identify the ways forward, as we already know much of what is needed, but also to see the ways forward at long last enabled.
But this is not enough. We need a multi-partisan Government approach to not only respond to the suicide crisis but to everything that underwrites it – the racism, the bent for assimilation, the cheating of peoples of their right to Country and of the right to various dues from their Country. I have now travelled back and forth from Western Australia to Canberra several times in the last couple of months to meet with Ministers, to meet in particular with Senator Scullion and Senator Nova Peris, because in the end it is only they who can make the real difference. The sustained coverage by The National Indigenous Times, The Stringer and now by the general media must be matched by the right responses by our parliamentarians.
On the morning of April 16, 2014, after a 21 day vigil I left my father's death bed for several hours to meet with Senator Nigel Scullion at the Commonwealth Offices in Bligh St., Sydney. Our meeting was about the suicides crises and of the ways forward. My father had urged me to not delay the meeting despite the risk that I would not be by his side during his last moments on this earth – something that would have torn me apart. After that meeting effectively the ATSISPEP was established and a step in the right direction taken. However it is one step. Two days later my father passed away.
Last year Professor Pat Dudgeon called for a "national inquiry into the suicide crisis of our people" coupling Professor Tom Calma's suggestion for a Royal Commission. There should be a Royal Commission due to inaction and because of the reductionist strategies and policies and penny-pinching. We know what the issues are but the nation has to hear them and we know the solutions. The solutions are not in 'ambassadors' and 'one day workshops'.
Governments will fail in many of their objectives but the one objective that they should prioritise above all others, and the one objective they must not fail in delivering, is in reducing the loss of life to suicide. There is no greater legacy that any parliamentarian can have than in having saved lives.
The First Peoples of the Kimberley, far north Queensland and of the Northern Territory have among the world's highest suicide rates, and unless the governments as a whole step up I can state without any reservation that this catastrophic crisis is only going to get worse.
The Australian Senate will soon hear the call for a Royal Commission, for a legitimate national inquiry, will soon hear about the genuine ways forward and what they hear must not go in one ear and out the other.
Yesterday, I cried not only for Phillinka, not only for the Sturt and Carter families who in January were traumatised by inactions by service responders when their loved one was lost to suicide in Wunga, 90 kilometres from Halls Creek, not only for 11 year old Peter Little who took his life late last year and his mother the same only weeks ago but for everyone needlessly lost and all the while our governments are unresponsive.
– Phillinka's father, Daniel Powdrill, "You used to come to me with a smile… I can't find the strength to accept that you are really gone. I cry myself to sleep just thinking about you. You have left a big hole in my heart and there is no one that can ever cover that."
– Phillinka's mother, Lena Andrews, "When I first held you, I knew you were mine to keep, to love and to hold forever… You left a huge hole in my heart that no one can cover, no one else can replace you my daughter."
– Declaration of impartiality conflict: The author of this article, Gerry Georgatos, is a suicide prevention researcher with various national and other projects and is also a community consultant with the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Suicide Prevention Evaluation Project (ATSISPEP).
It is only at the request of Philinka's mother's that we have published the photo of Phillinka and used her name. Phillinka's mother, Lena, is urging for much to change for all her people, and that her daughter's passing brings on the journey to the changes that would have made a difference to Phillinka and the many others who we should not have lost.
Lifeline's 24-hour hotline, 13 11 14
Crisis Support and Suicide Prevention Beyond Blue – 1300 22 4636
Other articles and media on the suicide crisis and suicide prevention by Gerry Georgatos:
Catastrophic suicide crisis will escalate "unless"…
One in ten Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders have been to jail
An eleven year old suicides – nine months later his mother takes her life
Understanding the abominable jail and suicide rates
The issue of our time – 1 in 3 deaths by suicide
When the right people lead then lives will be saved
Truth, not lies on Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander suicide prevention rates
A moral abomination – a narrative that is racialised; of human suffering and misery
Plato said engage with our politicians or risk being governed by the dumb – the suicide crises
Stop selling resilience
Another misguided reductionist plan to reduce rates of suicide self-harm
The leading cause of death – for 15 to 44 year old Australians – is suicide | The Stringer
People strengthening people focus on suicide prevention
Understanding difference and unfairness is a first step in suicide prevention | The Stringer
Taboo, stigma and shame need to get out of the way for suicide prevention | The Stringer
Suicide is heading to a humanitarian crisis – it is a leading cause of death | The Stringer
Suicides are preventable – here is what we must begin to do | The Stringer
The extensiveness of Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander suicides – 1 in 20 | The Stringer
Preventing suicide – "no greater legacy" | The Stringer
Understanding Australia's suicide crises
Shame job Australia – they came through the gate with my boy's body
Suicides, high among overseas born and second generation Australians
Child suicidal ideation on the increase
It is racism killing our people – suicides born of racism
Kimberley suicide rate – one of the world's highest – Yiriman is the way to go
My Country – But look how I am forced to live
What sort of Australia is this? Seven homeless children in an asbestos slum
Six homeless children fighting for a better tomorrow
Quality of life for Australians 2nd only to Norway but for Aboriginal Peoples 122nd
Dumbartung convenes suicide crisis summit
Suicide attempts among women on the rise
Australia's Aboriginal children detained at the world's highest rates
Culture should not be denied – change needs unfolding, not impost
Everyone in the Territory doing well, except for Aboriginal Peoples
Australia's Aboriginal children, the world's highest suicide rate
Wes Morris slams government suicide prevention programs
How many more suicides will it take? How many more deaths?
Hopelessness in suicide riddled communities
More government neglect of Aboriginal children
In identity lay the answers – ATSI suicides
Beagle Bay to State Parliament – Farrer speaks out on suicides
Government to address Aboriginal suicides
996 deaths by suicide – one in 24 die by suicide
Australia's Aboriginal suicide epidemic – whose child will be the next to die?
77 Aboriginal suicides in South Australia alone
Kimberley's Aboriginal peoples old at 45 years
Australia, the mother of all jailers of Aboriginal people
Close the gap failed
Despite what's being reported, life expectancy not improving for ATSI peoples – 1 in 3 dead by 45 years of age
Tumult of death – 400 suicides in last three years
30 suicides in the last three months as we wait for promises to be kept
Suicide crisis – genocidal numbers
Suicide crisis – from tragic to catastrophic
Suicide crisis needs real funding and actions
Hundreds more will suicide if we wait for 2015
Nothing will be done about suicides crisis
Scullion bent on saving lives
Elders across Australia say governments need to listen to them on how to address youth suicide
Suicides – western society and ancient cultures clash
If we are serious about suicide prevention
Australia's suicide crisis should not be played down – the media must highlight it
From my father's death bed to the must-do to end the suicides
Governments promise on ending suicides must come good now
More confirmation of what everyone knows, was suicide prevention inadequate
The must-do need to listen and trust if suicides crisis is to end
Working together – mental health and suicide prevention roundtable
Break the taboo around suicides, we reduce suicides
Suicide crises born of Australia's inhumanity
Suicides – children
Suicides crisis linked to incarceration
Wes Morris urges funding for cultural methodologies
The betrayal of our children – the Northern Territory
New project offers hope to reduce Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander suicides
Depression and suicide prevention must be top of the agenda this century
World Suicide Prevention Day – suicide takes more lives than war
Western Australia – 1 in 13 in a jail, a bullshit state of affairs
Forgotten children of the promised land – the fight to save rural Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities
Yiriman saving lives in the midst of the Kimberley's suicide crises
Healing Halls Creek
The smaller a community, the less likely a suicide
Overcoming disadvantage report shows disadvantage not overcome
600 Black deaths in custody by 2025 – jail numbers to soar
Get out of the way – Aboriginal suicide rates will drop
A nation shamed when the solution for its children is homelessness
Christmas, a period of vulnerability for many
Stop peddling lies $30 billion spent on Indigenous disadvantage is a lie
To end our trauma government must stop the assault on our people and our culture
In Australia there is the Aboriginal rights struggle
Kirstie Parker, Mick Gooda say enough of fine words – close the gap a big fat lie
Highest child removal rates in the world worse than Stolen Generations
Stop examining the oppressed – instead examine the oppressor
Other media:
A humanitarian crisis
Beating back suicide
Youth suicide
Youth suicide at crisis levels among Indigenous population
A nation shamed when child sees suicide as the solution
Families urged to look after each other as suicide rates soar
Response to rash of suicides in remote WA regions
ABC 7:30 Report – Deaths in custody and jail rates
Indigenous suicide prevention ambassador
Mother takes her own life after losing beloved son
Tiga Bayles and Gerry Georgatos discuss the suicide crises
The Wire – The suicide crisis
Unpaid fines leading Indigenous over representation
Researcher says poverty is driving incarceration of Aboriginal people
One in twenty First Peoples deaths classify as suicide
CAAMA Radio – Gerry Georgatos Speaks out on Aboriginal Suicide.
ABC – Indigenous suicide rates at crisis levels
Editor says:
Suicide crisis raised in NSW Upper House and question about the call for a Royal Commission.
Donna Barns says:
A total of 112 publications and interviews on suicide referenced for this article. Too many stories contained within of such unbearable grief and sadness for those involved. Breaks your heart. It is imperative that we have a government who will support our indigenous peoples. This is more than a crisis it is genocide which is being ignored. Ashamed to be white Australian.
Lynne Newington says:
I'm beginning to believe w'ere becoming too complacent with the value of lives, not only of our first peoples.
There's been the attrocities committed against our most vulnerable, indigenous and other children for decades in institutions and without inlcuding by religious bodies who have hidden behind their cassocks and collars and protected by the various governments of the day with their own vested interests and agendas.
Hopefully this new prime minister, a man of integrity will make it a priorty to expunge this blight and there will be a new tomorrow.
My condolences to mothers who have suffered the loss of their sons and daughters.
OMG. My heart broken after reading this.
Thank you Stringer News, you do fine work.
I wept, this is an utterly tragic story.
This is a devastating story. Shattering. You are a true scholar and a hero.


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2. Circus City - Sydney Trapeze School artists will treat the public to thrilling aerial displays on the outdoor trapeze rig and there will be roving performers from the Spaghetti Circus.
3. Circus for Everyone - A range of free circus workshops, presented by Aerialize, suitable for everyone from tiny tots to seniors.
4. Courtyard Sessions - Courtyard Sessions gives you the prime chance to discover new bands in an intimate setting, as Sydney's most talented up-and-coming musicians are showcased.
5. World Food Markets - Tables and chairs are limited so it's a good idea to bring your own picnic rug and grab a space on the lawn.
6. The Hair Salon - This wig-filled, non-stop variety show will be a heady mix of cabaret, colour-enhanced acrobatics, dance and music.
7. Soul of Sydney - This creative family of DJs, musicians, producers, dancers and designers are all about dance-floor expression, crowd participation and party vibes.
8. Hollywood Movie Magic - Learn impressive visual effects in this introductory workshop.
9. Film Screening The Tale of Despereaux - For 5-12 year olds.
10. Sky Terrace DJ Series - As the sun sets over Sydney, Sky Terrace lights up with an impressive line-up of local and international DJ talent.
11. Let's Dance - DJ Stephen Ferris will take you through a musical landscape of Bowie's various eras from 5pm - bring your Bowie memories and inspired-fashion, and join us for an evening to celebrate his legacy.
12. Imagined Touch Installation - Audiences wear goggles and headphones that alter and restrict light and sound.
13. Superhero Badge Making Workshop - First design a superhero emblem, catch phase, word-bubble or comic graphic then be ready to create a superhero badge!


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