Fayetteville Farmer’s Market Plans Special Events for 2009
4.10.09
The Fayetteville Farmer’s Market, located on the Fayetteville Court Square, opened this Saturday and will continue until November 21. The market is open from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. three days a week, Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
Started in 1974, the market is an area for local farmers, crafters, chefs, musicians, flower-gatherers, the Humane Society and artists to display their work, products, or pets that are available for adoption.
This month the market presents the Garden Series on the Square during the market hours. The first will be a lecture on various soils given by Berni Kurz on April 11. Sara Pollard of the Mountain Greenery Farm will speak about assorted use of herbs during the Tuesday market, April 14. An instruction on ornamental plant sowing and placement will be given by Joan Sorn and Mark Corly on April 18. Each of these three lectures will take place between 10 and 11 a.m. outside on the court square. “If we have a large turnout, then we might move the lecture to the food court [near Jammin’ Java] so we’ll have more seating,” said Cara Corbin, assistant manager for the Farmer’s Market.
Traditionally, the market distributes a free tree to each of the participants of the spring season-opening farmer’s market, but that day has been pushed back this year. The free tree give away will be on April 25 this year; the supply is limited to one tree per person.
The main objective of this year’s farmer’s market is to “Be Green…Healthy, Safe and Clean.” Administrators are asking that market-goers keep in mind their responsibility to the environment while participating. “Other businesses have had to make changes, now it’s time for us to do the same,” Corbin said. Suggestions to be green, healthy, safe and clean include:
--bringing your own coffee cup
--bring your own shopping bags/canvas bags
--ride your bicycle, take the bus, or carpool to the market
--if you bring your pet, make sure to clean up after it
On this season’s opening day, farm-grown produce was only the beginning of products available to Fayetteville consumers. Entertainment was on every corner of the square, as three separate music ensembles were present and one solo artist. Woven baskets, wooden vases and cutting boards, flower bouquets, watercolor and photo prints, pottery and woven blankets were also for sale. Northwest Arkansas Community Creative Center had representatives set up a table to advertise art classes, the Walton Arts Center representatives handed out brochures about their upcoming events and had a drawing for free tickets, and the Humane Society employees walked dogs through the crowds, in an attempt to find more families to adopt pets.
“We love to have elementary field trips come to the market, but we’re also looking for ways to incorporate junior high schools, high schools and even UA students,” Corbin said.
UA student, Sparsh Agrawat said he never attends the farmer’s market, “I’ve never really heard of anything about it that would attract me to go.”
Anthropology major, Maggie Strain said she finds the farmer’s market to be an overall pleasant experience. “The couple of times I’ve been to the market, I enjoyed talking with the vendors there, it’s a good way to learn about gardening and save money in this economy,” she said.
According to the Fayetteville Farmer’s Market Web site, several special events will be included in the 2009 market. At the moment, the Web site includes a list of events and their dates, but the main description of each will be posted at a later date. The first of the three farm tours is a tour of spring flowers, which will take place on April 18. The remaining tours are scheduled for October and will focus on pumpkin and squash farms. Three “Kids Days” will go on April 28, June 16, and Aug. 13.
Crafts will be sold all through the year, but two craft showcases will feature these works in particular. May 2 is the Spring Craft Showcase, while Oct. 17 is the Fall Craft Showcase.
The farmer’s market has Holiday celebrations for Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, and Halloween. Mother’s Day has a two correlated events, a Flower Arranging Demo on Thursday, May 7 and a Flower Fair May 9. For those that struggle to find Dad a gift each year, there is a Father’s Day Gift Showcase on June 20. Since the Fourth of July falls on a Saturday this year, the market is having a Picnic in the Square Grill Out for the public. Customer Appreciation Celebration is planned for Labor Day Weekend, Sept. 5. Finally, near the close of the farmer’s market, will be a Costume Contest for Saturday, Oct. 31, Halloween.
For additional information, visit www.fayettevillefarmersmarket.com, email fayettevillefm@gmail.com, or call 479-236-2910.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
National Bike Month in Fayetteville
Resources available to students during National Bike Month in Fayetteville
In order to kick off the National Bike Month of May, Fayetteville is sponsoring a “Bike to Work Week” on May 11-15 this year. There are many convenient trails available for Fayetteville public use this spring, as well as free use of bicycles for UA students.
In preparation of hitting the trails this spring, students might consider bike availability, parking permits, trail options and reasons to choose bicycling to work and school, instead of other transportation means.
U of A Transit and Parking is in the process of changing their bicycle policy, according to the administrators of U of A Students Against Bicycle Parking Fees on Campus. In the future, bicycles must be registered and display a UA bicycle permit. Due to student protesting, the permit will not cost $15; instead the permits will be free.
Gary K. Smith, UA Director of Transit and Parking said once the policy is established, registration will be made easy, especially in obtaining permits. The new bicycle permits will be distributed either outside the Union Station or Arkansas Union.
The use of highways, the headache of street lights and crosswalks might discourage an interest in bicycling, but the Fayetteville Alternative Transportation & Trail Plan is developing an intricate set of trail systems that are more pedestrian and bicycle-rider friendly.
This is the sixth of 15 years in the FATT plan. The plan was developed to establish alternative modes of transportation and active recreation as an integral part of daily life in the City of Fayetteville, according to the FATT executive summary. The goal of the Trail Construction Program is to construct about five miles of new trail each year, which in FATT’s terms translates to a trail within a half-mile of every home.
The City of Fayetteville now offers ten miles of paved trails and will ultimately include 129 miles of trails and 163 miles of on-street linkages, according to the Trail Construction Program. The Frisco and Scull Creek trails are the base for this trail network. The two trails run north and south through Fayetteville and will have trails built from them extending east and west.
The Frisco Trail on Center Street near to the UA campus is 0.6 of a mile. It passes the Blair Library as well as the “Trailside Café and Tea Room”, and then opens onto Dickson Street.
Nearby, Scull Creek Trail begins on Gregg Street and passes through various Lindsey & Associates properties and the Washington Regional Medical Center in its four miles. The concrete trail is 12-feet wide, has benches along the way, and has many tall lamps to maximize safe riding hours.
Things to keep in mind when hitting the trail this spring include clothing choice, distance of your trip, weather, safety, and bicycle accessories. Loose-fitting, light-colored clothing maximizes the cyclists’ comfort. If you wish to change into work clothing after the ride, rolling the clothes prevents wrinkles. U-locks are optimal for parking and storing your bike while at school or work. A basket, rear-rack or pannier (a bag that fits onto a rear rack) are useful when riding destinations that require luggage.
Even if students do not have their bike in town, there are resources available at no charge.
Razorbikes is a group that distributes community bikes to UA students, alumni, faculty and staff, according to the UA Transit and Parking Department Web site. After registering with Razorbikes in the Parking Office, the bicycles are available for a full day at no fee and can be taken off campus. Basic Razorbike guidelines include wearing a helmet, following state and local bicycle laws and not sharing the combination with another person while using the bicycle. The first Razorbikes were supplied by the Regions bank and other businesses, but the program accepts donated bikes from students, alumni, faculty and staff.
The Arkansas State Highway and Transportation Department outlines a few straight forward laws for bicyclists. Cycle on the right side of the road (never the left side or the sidewalk), obey all traffic signals and control devices, yield to crossing traffic, when changing lanes yield to traffic in the new lane, at intersections face the direction of your destination and also position yourself according to the speed relative to other traffic.
In order to kick off the National Bike Month of May, Fayetteville is sponsoring a “Bike to Work Week” on May 11-15 this year. There are many convenient trails available for Fayetteville public use this spring, as well as free use of bicycles for UA students.
In preparation of hitting the trails this spring, students might consider bike availability, parking permits, trail options and reasons to choose bicycling to work and school, instead of other transportation means.
U of A Transit and Parking is in the process of changing their bicycle policy, according to the administrators of U of A Students Against Bicycle Parking Fees on Campus. In the future, bicycles must be registered and display a UA bicycle permit. Due to student protesting, the permit will not cost $15; instead the permits will be free.
Gary K. Smith, UA Director of Transit and Parking said once the policy is established, registration will be made easy, especially in obtaining permits. The new bicycle permits will be distributed either outside the Union Station or Arkansas Union.
The use of highways, the headache of street lights and crosswalks might discourage an interest in bicycling, but the Fayetteville Alternative Transportation & Trail Plan is developing an intricate set of trail systems that are more pedestrian and bicycle-rider friendly.
This is the sixth of 15 years in the FATT plan. The plan was developed to establish alternative modes of transportation and active recreation as an integral part of daily life in the City of Fayetteville, according to the FATT executive summary. The goal of the Trail Construction Program is to construct about five miles of new trail each year, which in FATT’s terms translates to a trail within a half-mile of every home.
The City of Fayetteville now offers ten miles of paved trails and will ultimately include 129 miles of trails and 163 miles of on-street linkages, according to the Trail Construction Program. The Frisco and Scull Creek trails are the base for this trail network. The two trails run north and south through Fayetteville and will have trails built from them extending east and west.
The Frisco Trail on Center Street near to the UA campus is 0.6 of a mile. It passes the Blair Library as well as the “Trailside Café and Tea Room”, and then opens onto Dickson Street.
Nearby, Scull Creek Trail begins on Gregg Street and passes through various Lindsey & Associates properties and the Washington Regional Medical Center in its four miles. The concrete trail is 12-feet wide, has benches along the way, and has many tall lamps to maximize safe riding hours.
Things to keep in mind when hitting the trail this spring include clothing choice, distance of your trip, weather, safety, and bicycle accessories. Loose-fitting, light-colored clothing maximizes the cyclists’ comfort. If you wish to change into work clothing after the ride, rolling the clothes prevents wrinkles. U-locks are optimal for parking and storing your bike while at school or work. A basket, rear-rack or pannier (a bag that fits onto a rear rack) are useful when riding destinations that require luggage.
Even if students do not have their bike in town, there are resources available at no charge.
Razorbikes is a group that distributes community bikes to UA students, alumni, faculty and staff, according to the UA Transit and Parking Department Web site. After registering with Razorbikes in the Parking Office, the bicycles are available for a full day at no fee and can be taken off campus. Basic Razorbike guidelines include wearing a helmet, following state and local bicycle laws and not sharing the combination with another person while using the bicycle. The first Razorbikes were supplied by the Regions bank and other businesses, but the program accepts donated bikes from students, alumni, faculty and staff.
The Arkansas State Highway and Transportation Department outlines a few straight forward laws for bicyclists. Cycle on the right side of the road (never the left side or the sidewalk), obey all traffic signals and control devices, yield to crossing traffic, when changing lanes yield to traffic in the new lane, at intersections face the direction of your destination and also position yourself according to the speed relative to other traffic.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Fate of a ballerina
My Christmas seasons always came with certain routine comforts. There were typical things, such as decorating the house, learning to cook various desserts with Mom; Dad teaching me how to perfectly wrap a present, and listening to my family read the story of Jesus’ birth before opening gifts.
Among my favorite tradition was watching The Nutcracker on PBS. I didn’t usually have anyone else join me on this one. I suppose everyone else might have seen it a hundred times, but by the time I turned nine, I was prepared to see it one hundred more times. The elegant costumes seemed so beautiful, even through the glass of a fuzzy TV screen that didn’t provide many close-ups. My fourth grade reading program was slowly teaching us the importance of plot. This, coupled with watching the same story once a year, meant I practically memorized the story of the Nutcracker.
At some point, my mom decided she wanted to see the Nutcracker as a family. As a school teacher, she had always harbored a love for the arts of piano, ballet and written works, but hadn’t had many aesthetic experiences. My dad has been a postman through most of his career, but enjoys all music and literary experiences from the comfort of his car or home. He listened to books on cassette in his mail-vehicle and kept the Bose radio playing constantly with blues, jazz and classical works. One thing he did not appreciate was seeing men in tights, so he reduced ballet to this ghastly image. “Why would you want to see that…men in tights should be reserved for Robin Hood: men in tights and that only,” he said. After mom’s convincing, we all headed to the Robinson Center in Little Rock for an aesthetic family experience.
In preparation for the ballet, mom chose a dress and jewelry from her closet, advised dad on a button up shirt and slacks, then tried to work on my outfit. Although I had not been to any professional concerts or ballets, I was convinced that no one would really want or need to get that dressed up for such an event. If you are going to enjoy something, why does the enjoyment come with stipulations, like wearing a dress? Mom had grown used this attitude, so our truce on my outfit was a teal-colored jumper over a teal & lavender shirt, complete with cute little tights and Sunday shoes.
As the evening began, I’m sure my dad had more than one fantasy about bailing on the ballet. At this point, he had lost the argument whether to go or not, then was forced to dress up (something he hadn’t done in years) and was the chosen driver (and supply of a new tank of gas) to make the one hour trek to combat the “city traffic” of Little Rock, which had never failed to irritate him. Later, he would be expected to sit quietly through the program he so hated, possibly buy a souvenir, then drive us home in the premature dark of winter.
Once in Little Rock, I marveled at the large buildings and bright lights of the city. The steps leading to the front door of the Robinson were intimidating, but certainly worth it. Even as a fourth grader, I was becoming increasingly embarrassed by my corduroy jumper as I eyed the golden silk, mauve taffeta, and black velvet gowns that surrounded us in the elevator.
All the stress of preparation and my embarrassment melted away as we stepped into the grand Robinson Theatre. There were so many seats…there were so many people, even several ushers to show you where to sit. How could mom and dad find our seats, even with the ushers’ help? Sure, I would watch the Nutcracker on television again next year, but I realized I would be jealous of myself sitting here now, seeing the grandeur right before me. The stage was no longer 20 inches wide, it was larger than life. Larger than my life, that’s for sure. After the introduction to the ballet, the same blue spotlight came on the curtain, as I watched the very video-cameras prepare to record what they had provided me with so many times.
The Nutcracker was more than I had hoped it would be. The colors were vivid now, not chromatic shades of one color as the TV had reduced them to. Sure, there were men in tights, but what did I know about their bodies? Whatever it was, I wasn’t concerned about their appearance. Their movements mesmerized me. From the suspended movements like something you would see underwater and not the air, to the hurried, accurate movements of the spinning top-like tutus, each was graceful. So graceful, it inspired patience in my musical focus. They were true artists and they had each experienced a first year of dancing. Maybe there was hope for me to become a true pianist, even though I was in my first year of piano.
During the intermission, my family returned to the theatre-red lobby, where several vendors had set up. They sold everything from coffees to wines, Christmas ornaments to ballet collectibles. The graceful audience members bustled in their netted skirts, tasteful black suits and uniform black patent leather shoes without seeming hurried like people on the street. They were all speaking, catching up in a quieter way that didn’t remind me of anything else I had seen or heard before.
While we were perusing the many items for sale, Dad allowed me to choose one item to take home. “That’s easy,” I thought. There were many beautiful things in the lobby, but the one that topped all was obvious. Shining faultlessly, glistening under the dimmed lighting was the frosted glass figure of a poised ballerina. Since I chose so quickly, Mom & Dad took me around the room once to make sure I wouldn’t see something else and regret my choice. As we came around again, Dad realized I had my mind made up. The ballerina was just right. I squealed with delight and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he presented me with my first (non-homemade) Christmas ornament.
There was really nothing particularly unique about it. Clear glass without a spot of color, the ballerina was wearing the traditional tutu, standard shoes, had her hair in a bun, and formed her arms in an oval, the same gesture that little girls make when imitating these lovely artists.
Following the show, I paid little attention to our reverse-trek to the vehicle. Mom and Dad knew their way out of the confusing building, back to the parking garage. I used this carefree time to relive the fabulous experience. Once we made it to the car, my parents surely thought half the battle was over. We simply had to maneuver out of the garage and then hit the freeway home. Unfortunately, our old Eddie Bauer Bronco began smoking as Dad attempted to pull it out of the parking space. It was barely detectable at first, a slight smell that made us wonder if it was another vehicle. I was turning the ballerina in my small hands, wondering how someone could train movements into something so stunning.
A few moments later, it was obvious that the Bronco wasn’t acting normally. Mom and Dad’s stress brought me out of my artistic daydreams. Dad never panics, but his urgent way of checking things on the vehicle signaled that something was going wrong. Suddenly, as Dad realized what was happening, he leapt out of the Bronco, slammed the door and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the back. “Grab April and get out of the car NOW,” he yelled at Mom. Mom didn’t waste any time, but I was still holding the ballerina and had to grab my coat and book. Those precious seconds could have been too long, but there was no time to explain that to a nine-year-old.
Mom dutifully hustled me to the far wall, within sight of our vehicle. Surrounded by a constant line of vehicles of our fellow audience members that were still elegantly dressed, now opened their car doors and each waved cell phones and yelled at us, “Who should we call?!” Their eyes nervously darted from us to the front windshield, wondering how long it would take to get their own families out of the underground parking garage.
Fear gripped my entire being while I watched dad dodge flames, trying to extinguish a fire that could spread to that full tank of gas he bought in mom’s and my best interest. Sweating, running back and forth, he sprayed the underside of the vehicle, trying to figure out where the fire was coming from. Next, he opened the hood of the Bronco. Mom and I cried out in shock as my dad narrowly missed the large, collective tangerine flames lashed out as a huge orange tongue of our once-trusty old vehicle. I’m not sure how long we spent frozen in fear and huddled together in our winter coats by that grey concrete wall. Too long, I think. We had nowhere to sit, not that we could have relaxed anyway.
The sophisticated people were now realistic with normal, room-volume voices. Finally, my mom had had enough with the audience’s yelling. When you are in a crisis, the only way to handle it is to do the most you can and leave the rest up to God, she always told me. We briskly walked up to the vehicle of the loudest dainty shouter. “STOP YELLING AT US…WE ARE TRYING TO PRAY,” she said. The lady didn’t miss a beat, “We have a cell phone, who should we call for you?” Since we didn’t have any family or friends in Little Rock, mom told her, “Call 911 and call God.” That was the extent of the conversation, there was no way mom would waste her time explaining to others when she had a direct line to the only being that could help us. Others had called 911 as well, but the fire department hadn’t arrived yet. Nor could they drive right up to us, since the traffic blocked us on all sides.
After what felt like hours of praying, hours of listening to distraught people trying to get our attention, hours of holding onto my glass figurine, I started to feel helpless. We were going to die here, in a slow-motion picture that only a few could see at such a high cost? Is this the way to go as a nine-year-old, to die in an underground parking lot explosion? Had God allowed me a beautiful evening to conclude a short life and a new comfort object to die with?
Dad’s fire extinguisher had run out, so there was little more that could be done.
Then Mom and I saw a figure come through the thick smoke. Did the fire department finally make it? No, it was just some guy, an ordinary-looking man wearing glasses, but…he had a fire extinguisher that was twice as big as what ours had been. Together, he and my dad made quick-work out of the rest of the fire.
In what seemed like a few seconds, the fire was finally put out, the rest of the nobly-dressed shouters had exited the garage and suddenly the man with the extinguisher was nowhere to be seen. Dad returned to us, ashen and spent; the perfect ending to his ideal night. As we celebrated our reunion, the firemen came walking towards us calmly and check the Bronco over, in case there was anything left to finish.
We returned to the theatre-red lobby, this time in search of a phone and a phone book to make arrangements for the vehicle and find a ride home. After Mom explained the situation to my sister, she came to pick us up.
After returning home, I was thankful to place the ballerina on our Christmas tree. Thankful that I would return to my last few days of classes and thankful that I’d be watching the Nutcracker on TV next year. For the first time, Christmas had a different meaning for me. Someone had helped my family, helped a crowd of ballet-goers survive. We had done more than just survived, no one was injured and eventually Dad would restore the vehicle.
For some reason, Mom, Dad and I were not supposed to die that night.
Christmas, the celebration of a savior, doesn’t begin until I reunite with the ballerina, until I have a thanksgiving for life, for safety and forgiveness. She is wrapped separately from the other ornaments, kept in a different place. It’d be such a waste for her to narrowly miss a fire, only to be crushed by Grandma Swindle’s hand-me-down ceramic ornaments. Multi-faceted, the artistic creature reminds me of eminent death, of the reason for life. It gave me something to look forward to; now that I was sure a protective God existed.
Each time I step off the bus, each time I leave the campus in the middle of the night, anytime that I am in public by myself, I feel his strong presence with me. I may not have a roommate, but I am not alone. After a long day of work, I sense the peace from his generous provision. I have a place to stay. I never go hungry. My only sickness is an annual bout with the flu. Each Christmas, I can go home and place the ballerina on the tree and enjoy the company of my family.
The frosted ballerina pirouettes on the tree, catching each primary hue of the Christmas light string, transforming from a royal blue ballerina to a golden-orange ballerina; ruby red ballerina to an evergreen ballerina.
Among my favorite tradition was watching The Nutcracker on PBS. I didn’t usually have anyone else join me on this one. I suppose everyone else might have seen it a hundred times, but by the time I turned nine, I was prepared to see it one hundred more times. The elegant costumes seemed so beautiful, even through the glass of a fuzzy TV screen that didn’t provide many close-ups. My fourth grade reading program was slowly teaching us the importance of plot. This, coupled with watching the same story once a year, meant I practically memorized the story of the Nutcracker.
At some point, my mom decided she wanted to see the Nutcracker as a family. As a school teacher, she had always harbored a love for the arts of piano, ballet and written works, but hadn’t had many aesthetic experiences. My dad has been a postman through most of his career, but enjoys all music and literary experiences from the comfort of his car or home. He listened to books on cassette in his mail-vehicle and kept the Bose radio playing constantly with blues, jazz and classical works. One thing he did not appreciate was seeing men in tights, so he reduced ballet to this ghastly image. “Why would you want to see that…men in tights should be reserved for Robin Hood: men in tights and that only,” he said. After mom’s convincing, we all headed to the Robinson Center in Little Rock for an aesthetic family experience.
In preparation for the ballet, mom chose a dress and jewelry from her closet, advised dad on a button up shirt and slacks, then tried to work on my outfit. Although I had not been to any professional concerts or ballets, I was convinced that no one would really want or need to get that dressed up for such an event. If you are going to enjoy something, why does the enjoyment come with stipulations, like wearing a dress? Mom had grown used this attitude, so our truce on my outfit was a teal-colored jumper over a teal & lavender shirt, complete with cute little tights and Sunday shoes.
As the evening began, I’m sure my dad had more than one fantasy about bailing on the ballet. At this point, he had lost the argument whether to go or not, then was forced to dress up (something he hadn’t done in years) and was the chosen driver (and supply of a new tank of gas) to make the one hour trek to combat the “city traffic” of Little Rock, which had never failed to irritate him. Later, he would be expected to sit quietly through the program he so hated, possibly buy a souvenir, then drive us home in the premature dark of winter.
Once in Little Rock, I marveled at the large buildings and bright lights of the city. The steps leading to the front door of the Robinson were intimidating, but certainly worth it. Even as a fourth grader, I was becoming increasingly embarrassed by my corduroy jumper as I eyed the golden silk, mauve taffeta, and black velvet gowns that surrounded us in the elevator.
All the stress of preparation and my embarrassment melted away as we stepped into the grand Robinson Theatre. There were so many seats…there were so many people, even several ushers to show you where to sit. How could mom and dad find our seats, even with the ushers’ help? Sure, I would watch the Nutcracker on television again next year, but I realized I would be jealous of myself sitting here now, seeing the grandeur right before me. The stage was no longer 20 inches wide, it was larger than life. Larger than my life, that’s for sure. After the introduction to the ballet, the same blue spotlight came on the curtain, as I watched the very video-cameras prepare to record what they had provided me with so many times.
The Nutcracker was more than I had hoped it would be. The colors were vivid now, not chromatic shades of one color as the TV had reduced them to. Sure, there were men in tights, but what did I know about their bodies? Whatever it was, I wasn’t concerned about their appearance. Their movements mesmerized me. From the suspended movements like something you would see underwater and not the air, to the hurried, accurate movements of the spinning top-like tutus, each was graceful. So graceful, it inspired patience in my musical focus. They were true artists and they had each experienced a first year of dancing. Maybe there was hope for me to become a true pianist, even though I was in my first year of piano.
During the intermission, my family returned to the theatre-red lobby, where several vendors had set up. They sold everything from coffees to wines, Christmas ornaments to ballet collectibles. The graceful audience members bustled in their netted skirts, tasteful black suits and uniform black patent leather shoes without seeming hurried like people on the street. They were all speaking, catching up in a quieter way that didn’t remind me of anything else I had seen or heard before.
While we were perusing the many items for sale, Dad allowed me to choose one item to take home. “That’s easy,” I thought. There were many beautiful things in the lobby, but the one that topped all was obvious. Shining faultlessly, glistening under the dimmed lighting was the frosted glass figure of a poised ballerina. Since I chose so quickly, Mom & Dad took me around the room once to make sure I wouldn’t see something else and regret my choice. As we came around again, Dad realized I had my mind made up. The ballerina was just right. I squealed with delight and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he presented me with my first (non-homemade) Christmas ornament.
There was really nothing particularly unique about it. Clear glass without a spot of color, the ballerina was wearing the traditional tutu, standard shoes, had her hair in a bun, and formed her arms in an oval, the same gesture that little girls make when imitating these lovely artists.
Following the show, I paid little attention to our reverse-trek to the vehicle. Mom and Dad knew their way out of the confusing building, back to the parking garage. I used this carefree time to relive the fabulous experience. Once we made it to the car, my parents surely thought half the battle was over. We simply had to maneuver out of the garage and then hit the freeway home. Unfortunately, our old Eddie Bauer Bronco began smoking as Dad attempted to pull it out of the parking space. It was barely detectable at first, a slight smell that made us wonder if it was another vehicle. I was turning the ballerina in my small hands, wondering how someone could train movements into something so stunning.
A few moments later, it was obvious that the Bronco wasn’t acting normally. Mom and Dad’s stress brought me out of my artistic daydreams. Dad never panics, but his urgent way of checking things on the vehicle signaled that something was going wrong. Suddenly, as Dad realized what was happening, he leapt out of the Bronco, slammed the door and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the back. “Grab April and get out of the car NOW,” he yelled at Mom. Mom didn’t waste any time, but I was still holding the ballerina and had to grab my coat and book. Those precious seconds could have been too long, but there was no time to explain that to a nine-year-old.
Mom dutifully hustled me to the far wall, within sight of our vehicle. Surrounded by a constant line of vehicles of our fellow audience members that were still elegantly dressed, now opened their car doors and each waved cell phones and yelled at us, “Who should we call?!” Their eyes nervously darted from us to the front windshield, wondering how long it would take to get their own families out of the underground parking garage.
Fear gripped my entire being while I watched dad dodge flames, trying to extinguish a fire that could spread to that full tank of gas he bought in mom’s and my best interest. Sweating, running back and forth, he sprayed the underside of the vehicle, trying to figure out where the fire was coming from. Next, he opened the hood of the Bronco. Mom and I cried out in shock as my dad narrowly missed the large, collective tangerine flames lashed out as a huge orange tongue of our once-trusty old vehicle. I’m not sure how long we spent frozen in fear and huddled together in our winter coats by that grey concrete wall. Too long, I think. We had nowhere to sit, not that we could have relaxed anyway.
The sophisticated people were now realistic with normal, room-volume voices. Finally, my mom had had enough with the audience’s yelling. When you are in a crisis, the only way to handle it is to do the most you can and leave the rest up to God, she always told me. We briskly walked up to the vehicle of the loudest dainty shouter. “STOP YELLING AT US…WE ARE TRYING TO PRAY,” she said. The lady didn’t miss a beat, “We have a cell phone, who should we call for you?” Since we didn’t have any family or friends in Little Rock, mom told her, “Call 911 and call God.” That was the extent of the conversation, there was no way mom would waste her time explaining to others when she had a direct line to the only being that could help us. Others had called 911 as well, but the fire department hadn’t arrived yet. Nor could they drive right up to us, since the traffic blocked us on all sides.
After what felt like hours of praying, hours of listening to distraught people trying to get our attention, hours of holding onto my glass figurine, I started to feel helpless. We were going to die here, in a slow-motion picture that only a few could see at such a high cost? Is this the way to go as a nine-year-old, to die in an underground parking lot explosion? Had God allowed me a beautiful evening to conclude a short life and a new comfort object to die with?
Dad’s fire extinguisher had run out, so there was little more that could be done.
Then Mom and I saw a figure come through the thick smoke. Did the fire department finally make it? No, it was just some guy, an ordinary-looking man wearing glasses, but…he had a fire extinguisher that was twice as big as what ours had been. Together, he and my dad made quick-work out of the rest of the fire.
In what seemed like a few seconds, the fire was finally put out, the rest of the nobly-dressed shouters had exited the garage and suddenly the man with the extinguisher was nowhere to be seen. Dad returned to us, ashen and spent; the perfect ending to his ideal night. As we celebrated our reunion, the firemen came walking towards us calmly and check the Bronco over, in case there was anything left to finish.
We returned to the theatre-red lobby, this time in search of a phone and a phone book to make arrangements for the vehicle and find a ride home. After Mom explained the situation to my sister, she came to pick us up.
After returning home, I was thankful to place the ballerina on our Christmas tree. Thankful that I would return to my last few days of classes and thankful that I’d be watching the Nutcracker on TV next year. For the first time, Christmas had a different meaning for me. Someone had helped my family, helped a crowd of ballet-goers survive. We had done more than just survived, no one was injured and eventually Dad would restore the vehicle.
For some reason, Mom, Dad and I were not supposed to die that night.
Christmas, the celebration of a savior, doesn’t begin until I reunite with the ballerina, until I have a thanksgiving for life, for safety and forgiveness. She is wrapped separately from the other ornaments, kept in a different place. It’d be such a waste for her to narrowly miss a fire, only to be crushed by Grandma Swindle’s hand-me-down ceramic ornaments. Multi-faceted, the artistic creature reminds me of eminent death, of the reason for life. It gave me something to look forward to; now that I was sure a protective God existed.
Each time I step off the bus, each time I leave the campus in the middle of the night, anytime that I am in public by myself, I feel his strong presence with me. I may not have a roommate, but I am not alone. After a long day of work, I sense the peace from his generous provision. I have a place to stay. I never go hungry. My only sickness is an annual bout with the flu. Each Christmas, I can go home and place the ballerina on the tree and enjoy the company of my family.
The frosted ballerina pirouettes on the tree, catching each primary hue of the Christmas light string, transforming from a royal blue ballerina to a golden-orange ballerina; ruby red ballerina to an evergreen ballerina.
Friday, April 3, 2009
6event
Nobel Laureate in Physics, Joseph Taylor spoke at UA this week about the process of observing, data recording, and devices he used that led him to discovering the first binary pulsar. His speech was the 13th annual Robert D. Maurer Distinguished Lecture, a lecture that hosts a variety of scientists to speak on topics such as stars, lasers, molecular beams, Einstein and the Universe in general.
Taylor discovered the first binary pulsar along with Russell Hulse, which earned them the 1993 Nobel Prize in Physics. When they began their observations, their goal was not to discover other astronomical bodies. Taylor said they wanted to establish how the pulsars were related to other stars and how they were distributed through the galaxies, an interest that had stemmed from the Cambridge group’s discovery of the first four pulsars. “Einstein would have made this discovery if he had our information,” he said.
Despite the late-arriving students, the audience also included many eagerly awaiting physicists. Utsab Khadka, physics teaching assistant, said he was looking forward to the insights from Taylor’s speech. In preparation, he read a couple of speeches given by Taylor, so he would be able to process the new information the lecture provided. “His Nobel banquet speech was really cool. I think he will be very inspiring,” Khadka said.
Taylor and Hulse spent their hours of pulsar research in 1974 at the National Astronomy and Ionosphere Center in Arecibo, Puerto Rico. A normal day at the observatory for them included only two and a half hours of observing due to a limited window of visibility. To determine when these hours would be in the earth's orbit, Hulse and Taylor consulted “Time Keeping Bulletins”, which would arrive in the mail about every two weeks and are now available by email. “So if you ever need to know exactly where the earth is in its orbit, this is the way to go,” Taylor said. The remainder of their pulsar research days were spent recording the data and interpreting it.
The two physicists used a device that was known as a mini-computer in the 1970s. “It was about the size of a refrigerator, which we kept in the shipping crate that it arrived in and Russ would make a mark on the side [of the crate] each time we found another pulsar,” Taylor said.
The many hours of data collection and observation were a difficult endeavor since the binary pulsar was 25,000 light years away, Taylor explained. “It’s a little like studying a factory machine by standing in the parking lot listening to the squeaks,” he said.
Pulsars are neutron stars, orbiting magnetized remnants of supernova explosions that produce radio waves. As he started to recognize the unique characteristics of pulsars, he made a computer algorithm to identify them, which soon led to finding a fifth pulsar. Since pulsars are known as nature’s most accurate clocks, part of Taylor’s gravitational discovery enabled exploration of a new subfield in astrophysics by testing the relativistic nature of gravity via comparisons of the Universe’s pulsar time with the Earth’s atomic time. The Nobel Prize in Physics press release explains, “The pulsar’s pulse period has proved to be extremely stable… [it] increases by less than 5 percent during 1 million years.”
Although the binary pulsar is nature’s most accurate clock, they speed up in minute amounts, about one millimeter per orbit/approximately eight hours. Eventually, the two pulsars (that make the binary pulsar) orbits will shrink progressively until they collide. Taylor explained that at this rate, it will take about 300 million years before it creates a “hell of a big gravitational bang.”
The radio telescope at the Arecibo Observatory is a web of aluminum panels held up by cables over a sinkhole. In the center of the device are two objects that swing back and forth to maintain its balance. The radio telescope serves two functions, to receive radio signals from outer space as well as emit radio signals to bounce off of objects. Both functions provide data that enable a better understanding of astronomical objects. Receiving signals provides information about bodies that emit them, such as pulsars. Emitting signals provides information about the bodies that the signals hit. This is one way that we learn about the moon and Venus, Taylor explained.
Taylor has spent the past 29 years as a professor in the department of physics at Princeton University and seemed to deliver the lecture primarily as a teacher, than as a scientist.
He set the foundation for his speech by giving a basic history of physics and by briefly summarizing the most fundamental physicists and their accomplishments from the 15th-17th centuries, such as Nicolaus Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Galileo Galilei, Johannes Kepler, and Isaac Newton. The entire lecture was reinforced by a detailed, structured PowerPoint presentation, which was followed by a question-and-answer session for further clarification.
UA student Meagan Howard originally attended primarily for extra credit, but afterwards she left pleasantly surprised. Howard agreed that Taylor’s speech was accessible, even for non-science students, “I really liked that he used a PowerPoint presentation, it helped me to understand more.”
Taylor discovered the first binary pulsar along with Russell Hulse, which earned them the 1993 Nobel Prize in Physics. When they began their observations, their goal was not to discover other astronomical bodies. Taylor said they wanted to establish how the pulsars were related to other stars and how they were distributed through the galaxies, an interest that had stemmed from the Cambridge group’s discovery of the first four pulsars. “Einstein would have made this discovery if he had our information,” he said.
Despite the late-arriving students, the audience also included many eagerly awaiting physicists. Utsab Khadka, physics teaching assistant, said he was looking forward to the insights from Taylor’s speech. In preparation, he read a couple of speeches given by Taylor, so he would be able to process the new information the lecture provided. “His Nobel banquet speech was really cool. I think he will be very inspiring,” Khadka said.
Taylor and Hulse spent their hours of pulsar research in 1974 at the National Astronomy and Ionosphere Center in Arecibo, Puerto Rico. A normal day at the observatory for them included only two and a half hours of observing due to a limited window of visibility. To determine when these hours would be in the earth's orbit, Hulse and Taylor consulted “Time Keeping Bulletins”, which would arrive in the mail about every two weeks and are now available by email. “So if you ever need to know exactly where the earth is in its orbit, this is the way to go,” Taylor said. The remainder of their pulsar research days were spent recording the data and interpreting it.
The two physicists used a device that was known as a mini-computer in the 1970s. “It was about the size of a refrigerator, which we kept in the shipping crate that it arrived in and Russ would make a mark on the side [of the crate] each time we found another pulsar,” Taylor said.
The many hours of data collection and observation were a difficult endeavor since the binary pulsar was 25,000 light years away, Taylor explained. “It’s a little like studying a factory machine by standing in the parking lot listening to the squeaks,” he said.
Pulsars are neutron stars, orbiting magnetized remnants of supernova explosions that produce radio waves. As he started to recognize the unique characteristics of pulsars, he made a computer algorithm to identify them, which soon led to finding a fifth pulsar. Since pulsars are known as nature’s most accurate clocks, part of Taylor’s gravitational discovery enabled exploration of a new subfield in astrophysics by testing the relativistic nature of gravity via comparisons of the Universe’s pulsar time with the Earth’s atomic time. The Nobel Prize in Physics press release explains, “The pulsar’s pulse period has proved to be extremely stable… [it] increases by less than 5 percent during 1 million years.”
Although the binary pulsar is nature’s most accurate clock, they speed up in minute amounts, about one millimeter per orbit/approximately eight hours. Eventually, the two pulsars (that make the binary pulsar) orbits will shrink progressively until they collide. Taylor explained that at this rate, it will take about 300 million years before it creates a “hell of a big gravitational bang.”
The radio telescope at the Arecibo Observatory is a web of aluminum panels held up by cables over a sinkhole. In the center of the device are two objects that swing back and forth to maintain its balance. The radio telescope serves two functions, to receive radio signals from outer space as well as emit radio signals to bounce off of objects. Both functions provide data that enable a better understanding of astronomical objects. Receiving signals provides information about bodies that emit them, such as pulsars. Emitting signals provides information about the bodies that the signals hit. This is one way that we learn about the moon and Venus, Taylor explained.
Taylor has spent the past 29 years as a professor in the department of physics at Princeton University and seemed to deliver the lecture primarily as a teacher, than as a scientist.
He set the foundation for his speech by giving a basic history of physics and by briefly summarizing the most fundamental physicists and their accomplishments from the 15th-17th centuries, such as Nicolaus Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Galileo Galilei, Johannes Kepler, and Isaac Newton. The entire lecture was reinforced by a detailed, structured PowerPoint presentation, which was followed by a question-and-answer session for further clarification.
UA student Meagan Howard originally attended primarily for extra credit, but afterwards she left pleasantly surprised. Howard agreed that Taylor’s speech was accessible, even for non-science students, “I really liked that he used a PowerPoint presentation, it helped me to understand more.”
Friday, March 13, 2009
6meeting
Springdale residents crowded the town hall during the city council meeting Tuesday night after Ozark Regional Transit created “Save My Seat” to publicize the importance of this month’s Springdale City Council meeting.
The meeting covered matters of employment, the care of public property and the recent changes made to the regional bus route.
Police Chief Kathy O'Kelly asked the council to authorize a new police employee, which the council approved despite Alderman Jeff Watson's suggestion that in the future, these employment matters go through the financial report.
Among the issues addressed Tuesday was the restoration of Spring Creek. Springdale resident, Ron Minen has monitored the process of cleaning up the debris surrounding the creek and found the end result unsatisfactory. "When that money [from the city budget] becomes available, we could use it on Spring Creek," Minen suggested.
Fire Chief Duane Atha proposed the reinstatement of a former fireman, which the city council readily approved. The position will save money for the city by not requiring the training fees and re-certification that an entirely new employee would necessitate.
Ozark Regional Transit has cut route 43 upon a claim to lack the sufficient funds, despite the UA Survey Research Center revealing a 21 percent increase in bus ridership.
Northwest Arkansas transit users have seen a rotation of placed blame while trying to contact those in charge of cutting route 43, their only source of transportation. The 16 mile route 43 stops at various apartment complexes, the Springdale Wal-Mart, Springdale High School, Parson Hills Elementary, the First National Bank, Springdale Library, Harp’s Grocery, and the Richardson (rehabilitation center).
ORT’s Web site announced the way to "Save Your [bus] Seat": “How much money the elected officials decide to contribute to ORT is based upon how important they think it is to their citizens. How do they determine that? From calls and letters that they receive from people like you.”
Residents responded positively to this call to action. They sent many letters to the Springdale City Council and attended the monthly council meeting to explain why the transit is so vital to their lives. A translator assisted the Hispanic families so that the language barrier would not restrict their message, that they would be unable to buy groceries or go to work without route 43. A few disabled workers, who cannot drive, were also present to tell the council the end of the route will be the end of their jobs.
Another Springdale resident, Alice Hannah, became emotional when she explained the route cut would separate her from her family for long periods of time. Hannah said the closing of route 43 will cut her off from two very important things in her life. “I will lose a job if we lose this route. I won’t be able to visit my one family, my one granddaughter,” Hannah said. Tuesday night, she walked in arm braces from her home to the Town Hall to voice her concern on behalf of her neighbors, her family, the Hispanic communities of Springdale, and herself. “I’m not here for my own pain. When I see other people suffering, that is when I speak up,” she said.
Despite the large turnout of residents to respond to the funding, Alderman Bobby Stout insisted that the financial problem lies within Ozark Regional Transit and not the city of Springdale. The city supplied the same monetary fund this year for public transportation purposes as they did the previous year. Stout said he did not understand why ORT’s executive director, Phil Pumphrey requested so much more funding, since “We kept the funding at $160,000…but no costs went up.” Pumphrey appealed for $247,000 in funds this year, which Stout interpreted as valuing route 43 at $87,000.
Ozark Regional Transit’s funding comes from a variety of sources, including charitable contributions, federal, state and local governments and through a small fare, $1.25 per adult, according to ORT’s Web site. Its only claim to additional revenue is the sale of advertising space.
The only proposition for compromise came from Alderman Kathy Jaycox, when she suggested that the city council’s finance meeting be set aside to address the issue and invited those residents to also attend it. The Springdale financial meeting was set to be joined with the personnel meeting, but Jaycox wanted the council to have 30 days to research alternative transportation or funding for those who use Route 43.
Jaycox said she identifies with the concerns of Springdale residents on route 43. “My sister is handicapped and I know how long it took her to find a job,” she said. At first, her sister took a Fayetteville transit to her workplace. Eventually, the route was discontinued, which initiated Jaycox paying $377 per month to get her sister to work. “I know that the independence [of riding the transit] meant a lot to her,” she said. There seems to be no other way for her sister to keep the job without Jaycox providing transportation.
After the council meeting adjourned, Jaycox explained she had made attempts to understand the people of Springdale even more fully than simply relating to her sister. Jaycox spent time in a wheelchair to see how difficult it would be to get around. She also spent a day without her keys, to learn who she would rely on or what she would do in the event that her transportation was suddenly unavailable; as her sister and Springdale residents must do.
“We are always looking to make Springdale more accessible,” Jaycox said. At the moment, she said handicap accessible sidewalks are on Springdale’s agenda. She added, "If I had $80,000 extra in my bank account, I'd be glad to give it to these people."
For now, one location has been taken off of route 43 and has been reduced to making less than half of the daily rounds as it did before the city council meeting.
The meeting covered matters of employment, the care of public property and the recent changes made to the regional bus route.
Police Chief Kathy O'Kelly asked the council to authorize a new police employee, which the council approved despite Alderman Jeff Watson's suggestion that in the future, these employment matters go through the financial report.
Among the issues addressed Tuesday was the restoration of Spring Creek. Springdale resident, Ron Minen has monitored the process of cleaning up the debris surrounding the creek and found the end result unsatisfactory. "When that money [from the city budget] becomes available, we could use it on Spring Creek," Minen suggested.
Fire Chief Duane Atha proposed the reinstatement of a former fireman, which the city council readily approved. The position will save money for the city by not requiring the training fees and re-certification that an entirely new employee would necessitate.
Ozark Regional Transit has cut route 43 upon a claim to lack the sufficient funds, despite the UA Survey Research Center revealing a 21 percent increase in bus ridership.
Northwest Arkansas transit users have seen a rotation of placed blame while trying to contact those in charge of cutting route 43, their only source of transportation. The 16 mile route 43 stops at various apartment complexes, the Springdale Wal-Mart, Springdale High School, Parson Hills Elementary, the First National Bank, Springdale Library, Harp’s Grocery, and the Richardson (rehabilitation center).
ORT’s Web site announced the way to "Save Your [bus] Seat": “How much money the elected officials decide to contribute to ORT is based upon how important they think it is to their citizens. How do they determine that? From calls and letters that they receive from people like you.”
Residents responded positively to this call to action. They sent many letters to the Springdale City Council and attended the monthly council meeting to explain why the transit is so vital to their lives. A translator assisted the Hispanic families so that the language barrier would not restrict their message, that they would be unable to buy groceries or go to work without route 43. A few disabled workers, who cannot drive, were also present to tell the council the end of the route will be the end of their jobs.
Another Springdale resident, Alice Hannah, became emotional when she explained the route cut would separate her from her family for long periods of time. Hannah said the closing of route 43 will cut her off from two very important things in her life. “I will lose a job if we lose this route. I won’t be able to visit my one family, my one granddaughter,” Hannah said. Tuesday night, she walked in arm braces from her home to the Town Hall to voice her concern on behalf of her neighbors, her family, the Hispanic communities of Springdale, and herself. “I’m not here for my own pain. When I see other people suffering, that is when I speak up,” she said.
Despite the large turnout of residents to respond to the funding, Alderman Bobby Stout insisted that the financial problem lies within Ozark Regional Transit and not the city of Springdale. The city supplied the same monetary fund this year for public transportation purposes as they did the previous year. Stout said he did not understand why ORT’s executive director, Phil Pumphrey requested so much more funding, since “We kept the funding at $160,000…but no costs went up.” Pumphrey appealed for $247,000 in funds this year, which Stout interpreted as valuing route 43 at $87,000.
Ozark Regional Transit’s funding comes from a variety of sources, including charitable contributions, federal, state and local governments and through a small fare, $1.25 per adult, according to ORT’s Web site. Its only claim to additional revenue is the sale of advertising space.
The only proposition for compromise came from Alderman Kathy Jaycox, when she suggested that the city council’s finance meeting be set aside to address the issue and invited those residents to also attend it. The Springdale financial meeting was set to be joined with the personnel meeting, but Jaycox wanted the council to have 30 days to research alternative transportation or funding for those who use Route 43.
Jaycox said she identifies with the concerns of Springdale residents on route 43. “My sister is handicapped and I know how long it took her to find a job,” she said. At first, her sister took a Fayetteville transit to her workplace. Eventually, the route was discontinued, which initiated Jaycox paying $377 per month to get her sister to work. “I know that the independence [of riding the transit] meant a lot to her,” she said. There seems to be no other way for her sister to keep the job without Jaycox providing transportation.
After the council meeting adjourned, Jaycox explained she had made attempts to understand the people of Springdale even more fully than simply relating to her sister. Jaycox spent time in a wheelchair to see how difficult it would be to get around. She also spent a day without her keys, to learn who she would rely on or what she would do in the event that her transportation was suddenly unavailable; as her sister and Springdale residents must do.
“We are always looking to make Springdale more accessible,” Jaycox said. At the moment, she said handicap accessible sidewalks are on Springdale’s agenda. She added, "If I had $80,000 extra in my bank account, I'd be glad to give it to these people."
For now, one location has been taken off of route 43 and has been reduced to making less than half of the daily rounds as it did before the city council meeting.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
My High School Playlist
Essay Writing
3.2.09
“My Stupid Mouth” John Mayer
The summer before my freshman year of high school, many things about me changed. Out were my pastel-colored sweaters and caring around a stack of books in preparation for my long study hours after school.
My heart had been broken at the beginning of the summer by a boy I’d crushed on for two years and had become close friends with. In my boredom and immaturity, I started my plan to become a different person, so that he would come to like me. I donned black t-shirts with rock band names and pictures on them. I stopped wearing khakis and shorts, replacing them with jeans. Some of the jeans were dark and tight, others were light and ratty. I found the shoe of my dreams: a pair of Chuck Taylor converses. Most importantly, though were my eating habits. I stopped eating lunch, cut down snacks and ate as little as possible at the table.
The boy in question had dismissed me on the last day of school with a written note that he couldn’t spend time with me any longer because he couldn’t be in a relationship. Since we had become such close friends, I knew exactly what he was like. I knew which bands he listened to, what he would say if I asked his opinion, etc. In our time together, we discussed our love for music and he got me interested in bands such as Creed and Evanescence. My sister had bought a Creed album hastily and then passed it along to me when she realized she didn’t care for it. It was his voice in my mind, the only thing I would listen to. It was the playlist of the summer.
Upon entering high school, I returned to all of my past friends. Our small high school was connected to the junior high, so there wasn’t much to be desired in making the crossover. My main excitement for being in high school was to leave the beginner band and join this boy in the high school band. As I returned to school, people talked, as they do in small towns. I was losing weight, I dressed different, I was not the same person.
Suddenly, this boy wanted to talk to me and I couldn’t be more thrilled. His mother had taken an interest in me when she learned I had a crush, so she encouraged things to move along between us. She was a teacher in the same building where my mom taught. The two were good friends, so she convinced my mom that she needed an extra tutor in her after-school class. The only other helper she had was her son.
That autumn, Tim and I helped the children with their activities, then were usually left alone as his mom herded the kids to the cars and conveniently got caught up in conversations with other teachers that had stuck around. We used this time to discuss the craziest kids of the bunch, teach each other games, listen to music or dance. On one tutoring afternoon, his mom took us to the local gas station, got us snacks and let us have time together. There we were, ages 14 and 15, spending our time together talking about teachers and listening to John Mayer’s album “Room for Squares.”
We were both shy and didn’t mind empty space in our conversations. We had the ability to simply listen to music and enjoy it together.
“My stupid mouth got me in trouble, I said too much again to a date over dinner yesterday,” John sang as we stumbled over our words.
“And I could see she was offended, she said ‘Well, anyway,’” when we learned to recognize each other’s nervous ticks.
“Oh, it’s another social casualty, score one more for me, how could I forget, momma said think before speaking. Oh what’s a boy to do,” sang to the boy with the coolest mom on the block. She could listen to him ramble for hours, but we were barely teenagers. We struggled with our conversations.
“We bit our lips, she looked out the window, rolling tiny balls of napkin paper, I played a game of chess with the salt and pepper shakers,” when we wanted to spend time together but didn’t really know how to deal with things at hand.
“Ms. Independent” Kelly Clarkson
When sophomore year came around, a new confidence seemed to appear suddenly, though I’d later realize that Tim had built it through the past couple of years. I stopped looking at my feet while walking down the hallway, I spoke my mind and I didn’t make decisions just because my friends wanted something. I apologized less.
My group of friends always spent lunch in the band hall, eating yogurt, drinking sprite and watching American Idol on our new projector. Kelly Clarkson’s songs were my anthem. She was a small girl with a big voice and an even bigger attitude, which was optimal in my opinion.
“Ms. Independent, Ms. Self-sufficient, Ms. Keep your distance, Ms. Unafraid Ms. out of my way, Ms. never let a man help her…” These were all the things I wanted to become. Tim & I continued our rogue friendship. Things grew between us. We were best friends, but I never liked to be seen as dependent or needy. He thrived on this; loved being around someone who could deliver the punch lines right back to him. He didn’t seem to mind my shove-when-pushed attitude. He simply cherished my reactions.
“She’d never ever feel rejected…” At this point, I thought I could protect my heart by not letting guys too close, but didn’t realize simple friendships would lead to the same emotions.
“Miss if you want to use that line, you better not start. She miscalculated, she didn’t want to end up jaded, she went in a new direction, but oo..she fell in love.” As I realized that Tim was not going to ask me out, even as much as he seemed to like me, I decided to take a different approach. I developed smaller, less meaningful crushes and ended up dating a couple guys. It was an old trick that too many people use, but I thought maybe Tim would be overcome with jealousy if he had to hear about these guys. I’m sure it would have worked better if I had actually had lunch with these guys instead of continuing to spend it with Tim.
“It took some time for her to see how beautiful love could truly be,” Kelly sang. At the time, I was just coming to realize that love shouldn’t involve jealousy and pettiness.
“This is the Last Time” Keane
My first relationship that took my mind off of Tim for a little while came in autumn of my junior year. It didn’t last long, three months or so, but it changed both of us. This other guy was a much more involved musician. He was not simply a spectator of the musical sport, but a participant. He was my bass accompanist in Jazz band, a creator of beautiful chords.
The entire school year was filled with moments that I thought would be the last time I had done something. Several of my friends had graduated and those remaining were graduating at the end of my junior year.
“I remember the first time, the first of many, sweep it into the corner or hide it under the bed, say these things will go away, but they never do,” is exactly how the last time that I would remember the last night spent at Becka’s house. All we did was play ping-pong, listen to oldies radio, and watch a movie about girls roping guys into marriage. It was fabulous, though. It was one of those things that you just can’t forget, even if you don’t want to think about it. You know things like that will never happen again in the exact same way.
“This is the last time that I will say these words,” Keane sang. This is the last time that I will say these words, I thought as Nino and I went to Los Montanos together, eating Mexican food and speaking in short, mismatched phrases of broken Georgian. It was the last time we celebrated our Friday night together before she returned to the Republic of Georgia.
“You fall on me for anything you like, and years make everything right…and I, I don’t mind. Tread it into the carpet or hide it under the stairs, but some things never die. And I try. I try.” Tim and I went to Thanks a Latte on its closing night, during its last few hours of business. We were in despair, not knowing how long it would take for the Underground coffeehouse to get organized before opening.
He was there for me in all ways possible. He was there after two breakups, telling the guys that they should have listened to me. They should have given me flowers. They should have been sitting across the dinner table from me and introducing me to their parents, as he came to do all of these things himself. That summer after junior year, he tread it into the carpet, trying to keep our relationship subtle, even though we were spending all of our time with each other. But some things never die.
“Fully Alive” Flyleaf
Slinking into my senior year, I felt that Tim and I became a unit. He was all I had to hold on to, since I would have to start my fourth set of friends in high school and he would have to find friends at the community college. I had been friends with so many people, but the group changed each year as people graduated out. My struggles were found in dealing with the graduated friends moving on, finding their way at college and not looking back.
“Dying lay a story spoken, about how all her bones are broken, hammers fall on all the pieces.” As I walked the endless laps in my last hour gym class, I listened to Lacey’s powerful words and felt their impact. A group of rude boys were obviously curious why I didn’t care to interact with the others in the class, so they would take to saying rude things about me as they passed me on the track. They only thought I couldn’t hear them, since I had my headphones on. Sticks and stones…
It had been the toughest year of my high school career. The boys in gym spoke about me. The boys in Spanish ridiculed me. The girls spread rumors about me because they didn’t know a single thing about me.
Hammers fell on all the pieces, but I fought back. I had no record, so the teachers let me slip by when I broke. Ripping off my headphones, I yelled back equal insults to the boys in gym class. I threw back enough witty comments to the boys in Spanish class that they became friendly, awaiting my quick answers that kept them entertained. I let the rumors fly, spent a day in in-school suspension, relishing the quiet, the peace, and the Harry Potter book I had brought along.
“All her complaints shrink to nothing, I’m afraid of all my some-things, she’s good for one day of comfort, only because she has suffered. Fully alive.” After the change in attitude, I became much more content with my life. I was okay without many friends at school. I had survived this far, so I would make it to graduation.
So, I walked my laps.
I made witty comments.
I walked my laps.
I listened to Flyleaf.
I walked my laps.
and I waited for my weekends with Tim.
3.2.09
“My Stupid Mouth” John Mayer
The summer before my freshman year of high school, many things about me changed. Out were my pastel-colored sweaters and caring around a stack of books in preparation for my long study hours after school.
My heart had been broken at the beginning of the summer by a boy I’d crushed on for two years and had become close friends with. In my boredom and immaturity, I started my plan to become a different person, so that he would come to like me. I donned black t-shirts with rock band names and pictures on them. I stopped wearing khakis and shorts, replacing them with jeans. Some of the jeans were dark and tight, others were light and ratty. I found the shoe of my dreams: a pair of Chuck Taylor converses. Most importantly, though were my eating habits. I stopped eating lunch, cut down snacks and ate as little as possible at the table.
The boy in question had dismissed me on the last day of school with a written note that he couldn’t spend time with me any longer because he couldn’t be in a relationship. Since we had become such close friends, I knew exactly what he was like. I knew which bands he listened to, what he would say if I asked his opinion, etc. In our time together, we discussed our love for music and he got me interested in bands such as Creed and Evanescence. My sister had bought a Creed album hastily and then passed it along to me when she realized she didn’t care for it. It was his voice in my mind, the only thing I would listen to. It was the playlist of the summer.
Upon entering high school, I returned to all of my past friends. Our small high school was connected to the junior high, so there wasn’t much to be desired in making the crossover. My main excitement for being in high school was to leave the beginner band and join this boy in the high school band. As I returned to school, people talked, as they do in small towns. I was losing weight, I dressed different, I was not the same person.
Suddenly, this boy wanted to talk to me and I couldn’t be more thrilled. His mother had taken an interest in me when she learned I had a crush, so she encouraged things to move along between us. She was a teacher in the same building where my mom taught. The two were good friends, so she convinced my mom that she needed an extra tutor in her after-school class. The only other helper she had was her son.
That autumn, Tim and I helped the children with their activities, then were usually left alone as his mom herded the kids to the cars and conveniently got caught up in conversations with other teachers that had stuck around. We used this time to discuss the craziest kids of the bunch, teach each other games, listen to music or dance. On one tutoring afternoon, his mom took us to the local gas station, got us snacks and let us have time together. There we were, ages 14 and 15, spending our time together talking about teachers and listening to John Mayer’s album “Room for Squares.”
We were both shy and didn’t mind empty space in our conversations. We had the ability to simply listen to music and enjoy it together.
“My stupid mouth got me in trouble, I said too much again to a date over dinner yesterday,” John sang as we stumbled over our words.
“And I could see she was offended, she said ‘Well, anyway,’” when we learned to recognize each other’s nervous ticks.
“Oh, it’s another social casualty, score one more for me, how could I forget, momma said think before speaking. Oh what’s a boy to do,” sang to the boy with the coolest mom on the block. She could listen to him ramble for hours, but we were barely teenagers. We struggled with our conversations.
“We bit our lips, she looked out the window, rolling tiny balls of napkin paper, I played a game of chess with the salt and pepper shakers,” when we wanted to spend time together but didn’t really know how to deal with things at hand.
“Ms. Independent” Kelly Clarkson
When sophomore year came around, a new confidence seemed to appear suddenly, though I’d later realize that Tim had built it through the past couple of years. I stopped looking at my feet while walking down the hallway, I spoke my mind and I didn’t make decisions just because my friends wanted something. I apologized less.
My group of friends always spent lunch in the band hall, eating yogurt, drinking sprite and watching American Idol on our new projector. Kelly Clarkson’s songs were my anthem. She was a small girl with a big voice and an even bigger attitude, which was optimal in my opinion.
“Ms. Independent, Ms. Self-sufficient, Ms. Keep your distance, Ms. Unafraid Ms. out of my way, Ms. never let a man help her…” These were all the things I wanted to become. Tim & I continued our rogue friendship. Things grew between us. We were best friends, but I never liked to be seen as dependent or needy. He thrived on this; loved being around someone who could deliver the punch lines right back to him. He didn’t seem to mind my shove-when-pushed attitude. He simply cherished my reactions.
“She’d never ever feel rejected…” At this point, I thought I could protect my heart by not letting guys too close, but didn’t realize simple friendships would lead to the same emotions.
“Miss if you want to use that line, you better not start. She miscalculated, she didn’t want to end up jaded, she went in a new direction, but oo..she fell in love.” As I realized that Tim was not going to ask me out, even as much as he seemed to like me, I decided to take a different approach. I developed smaller, less meaningful crushes and ended up dating a couple guys. It was an old trick that too many people use, but I thought maybe Tim would be overcome with jealousy if he had to hear about these guys. I’m sure it would have worked better if I had actually had lunch with these guys instead of continuing to spend it with Tim.
“It took some time for her to see how beautiful love could truly be,” Kelly sang. At the time, I was just coming to realize that love shouldn’t involve jealousy and pettiness.
“This is the Last Time” Keane
My first relationship that took my mind off of Tim for a little while came in autumn of my junior year. It didn’t last long, three months or so, but it changed both of us. This other guy was a much more involved musician. He was not simply a spectator of the musical sport, but a participant. He was my bass accompanist in Jazz band, a creator of beautiful chords.
The entire school year was filled with moments that I thought would be the last time I had done something. Several of my friends had graduated and those remaining were graduating at the end of my junior year.
“I remember the first time, the first of many, sweep it into the corner or hide it under the bed, say these things will go away, but they never do,” is exactly how the last time that I would remember the last night spent at Becka’s house. All we did was play ping-pong, listen to oldies radio, and watch a movie about girls roping guys into marriage. It was fabulous, though. It was one of those things that you just can’t forget, even if you don’t want to think about it. You know things like that will never happen again in the exact same way.
“This is the last time that I will say these words,” Keane sang. This is the last time that I will say these words, I thought as Nino and I went to Los Montanos together, eating Mexican food and speaking in short, mismatched phrases of broken Georgian. It was the last time we celebrated our Friday night together before she returned to the Republic of Georgia.
“You fall on me for anything you like, and years make everything right…and I, I don’t mind. Tread it into the carpet or hide it under the stairs, but some things never die. And I try. I try.” Tim and I went to Thanks a Latte on its closing night, during its last few hours of business. We were in despair, not knowing how long it would take for the Underground coffeehouse to get organized before opening.
He was there for me in all ways possible. He was there after two breakups, telling the guys that they should have listened to me. They should have given me flowers. They should have been sitting across the dinner table from me and introducing me to their parents, as he came to do all of these things himself. That summer after junior year, he tread it into the carpet, trying to keep our relationship subtle, even though we were spending all of our time with each other. But some things never die.
“Fully Alive” Flyleaf
Slinking into my senior year, I felt that Tim and I became a unit. He was all I had to hold on to, since I would have to start my fourth set of friends in high school and he would have to find friends at the community college. I had been friends with so many people, but the group changed each year as people graduated out. My struggles were found in dealing with the graduated friends moving on, finding their way at college and not looking back.
“Dying lay a story spoken, about how all her bones are broken, hammers fall on all the pieces.” As I walked the endless laps in my last hour gym class, I listened to Lacey’s powerful words and felt their impact. A group of rude boys were obviously curious why I didn’t care to interact with the others in the class, so they would take to saying rude things about me as they passed me on the track. They only thought I couldn’t hear them, since I had my headphones on. Sticks and stones…
It had been the toughest year of my high school career. The boys in gym spoke about me. The boys in Spanish ridiculed me. The girls spread rumors about me because they didn’t know a single thing about me.
Hammers fell on all the pieces, but I fought back. I had no record, so the teachers let me slip by when I broke. Ripping off my headphones, I yelled back equal insults to the boys in gym class. I threw back enough witty comments to the boys in Spanish class that they became friendly, awaiting my quick answers that kept them entertained. I let the rumors fly, spent a day in in-school suspension, relishing the quiet, the peace, and the Harry Potter book I had brought along.
“All her complaints shrink to nothing, I’m afraid of all my some-things, she’s good for one day of comfort, only because she has suffered. Fully alive.” After the change in attitude, I became much more content with my life. I was okay without many friends at school. I had survived this far, so I would make it to graduation.
So, I walked my laps.
I made witty comments.
I walked my laps.
I listened to Flyleaf.
I walked my laps.
and I waited for my weekends with Tim.
Choosing Majors Wisely in the Recession
In the face of an economic crisis, this generation of college students chooses majors more carefully and the choice differs from the past. Ten years ago, the most popular majors at UA included Childhood Education, Psychology, and Accounting. Now, the focus is on health science degrees.
According to the American Heart Association, baby boomers are living longer than past generations as a result of measles and polio vaccines and radical heart surgeries. Despite the lengthened age, the boomers have more chronic diseases, such as arthritis and diabetes, so they are more likely to make use of health care services.
In 2007, 13 percent of the U.S. population was age 65 and older, but that number will increase to 20 percent when the last of the baby boomers reach retirement. The Department of Labor predicts a steep increase in the number of health care jobs accessible in the next four years. As many as 4,700,000 jobs will be available, which is a 30 percent increase.
Geoffery Jensen, a graduate student and World Civilizations Instructor agreed that health sciences are a good direction for students during this time. Jensen explained that a long series of events has lead to a dire need for more doctors and people in the health care systems. “Retirements, frivolous lawsuits, insanely high insurance premiums, and the overall poor condition of the health care system have reduced the amount of practicing doctors in our country,” he said. Jensen also encouraged students to keep an eye on the way congress and the president deal with health care in our country.
Students at UA have already gravitated toward the health science majors. The most chosen majors at UA in 2008 were Kinesiology with 599 students, Nursing with 560 students and Biology with 542 students.
Patsy Watkins, the UA Journalism Department Chair, offers advice for students searching for practical majors that will be most likely to provide jobs in the future. “Students should research their field, talk to professors, and take the skills you have and decide where to put them,” Watkins said. Each year, Watkins turns her students to the occupational outlook handbook. She said this information would be helpful to students to get a good idea of occupations that have the potential for growth in the next five to ten years. Watkins explained that students often end up in jobs that were not an obvious choice for their major, but were accessible because of the skills they picked up while earning their degree.
A recurring theme in the search for a good major is that no major is entirely recession-proof. There seems to be no guarantee that your particular major will provide a job for you constantly. Although Jensen said he believes there are a couple of areas that have the potential to weather the recession better than others, he also emphasized the importance of sticking to what you want to do with your life.
“It will be a very competitive, tough market for the next year or two because of the recession,” Watkins said. “If students can think in terms of the economy being on an upswing within the next two to three years and simply be prepared, they will do just fine.”
Students have chosen majors from a wide range of reasoning. High school experiences, family member’s jobs, information provided by the universities, and even procrastinating have all attributed to UA students final decisions.
For many students, choosing a major can come from simply running out of time. When undeclared major Charla Beasley came to the beginning of her junior year, she said she was “put on the spot” by her advisor. “My advisor said ‘You know you have to choose a major now, right?’ I laughed, and then I just told her it had to be art,” Beasley said. Beasley designs tattoos for friends, owns a photography business, and practices all forms of art. She said she did not feel prepared to declare a major, but that the choice to major in art was only natural.
Some students prefer to make use of all available material before carefully deciding on a major. One such student is Brittany Bogle. She began exploring her main interests, science and math, by reading university brochures, narrowing her choice down to two engineering majors, then sitting through a couple classes of each. Now in her senior year, Bogle said she feels confident that her choice was a good one, even for the recession period. She expressed concerns that there are fewer companies that provide internships, but overall has seen engineering grow. “Our job is to reduce the spending of companies, which is exactly what they need right now,” Bogle said.
According to the American Heart Association, baby boomers are living longer than past generations as a result of measles and polio vaccines and radical heart surgeries. Despite the lengthened age, the boomers have more chronic diseases, such as arthritis and diabetes, so they are more likely to make use of health care services.
In 2007, 13 percent of the U.S. population was age 65 and older, but that number will increase to 20 percent when the last of the baby boomers reach retirement. The Department of Labor predicts a steep increase in the number of health care jobs accessible in the next four years. As many as 4,700,000 jobs will be available, which is a 30 percent increase.
Geoffery Jensen, a graduate student and World Civilizations Instructor agreed that health sciences are a good direction for students during this time. Jensen explained that a long series of events has lead to a dire need for more doctors and people in the health care systems. “Retirements, frivolous lawsuits, insanely high insurance premiums, and the overall poor condition of the health care system have reduced the amount of practicing doctors in our country,” he said. Jensen also encouraged students to keep an eye on the way congress and the president deal with health care in our country.
Students at UA have already gravitated toward the health science majors. The most chosen majors at UA in 2008 were Kinesiology with 599 students, Nursing with 560 students and Biology with 542 students.
Patsy Watkins, the UA Journalism Department Chair, offers advice for students searching for practical majors that will be most likely to provide jobs in the future. “Students should research their field, talk to professors, and take the skills you have and decide where to put them,” Watkins said. Each year, Watkins turns her students to the occupational outlook handbook. She said this information would be helpful to students to get a good idea of occupations that have the potential for growth in the next five to ten years. Watkins explained that students often end up in jobs that were not an obvious choice for their major, but were accessible because of the skills they picked up while earning their degree.
A recurring theme in the search for a good major is that no major is entirely recession-proof. There seems to be no guarantee that your particular major will provide a job for you constantly. Although Jensen said he believes there are a couple of areas that have the potential to weather the recession better than others, he also emphasized the importance of sticking to what you want to do with your life.
“It will be a very competitive, tough market for the next year or two because of the recession,” Watkins said. “If students can think in terms of the economy being on an upswing within the next two to three years and simply be prepared, they will do just fine.”
Students have chosen majors from a wide range of reasoning. High school experiences, family member’s jobs, information provided by the universities, and even procrastinating have all attributed to UA students final decisions.
For many students, choosing a major can come from simply running out of time. When undeclared major Charla Beasley came to the beginning of her junior year, she said she was “put on the spot” by her advisor. “My advisor said ‘You know you have to choose a major now, right?’ I laughed, and then I just told her it had to be art,” Beasley said. Beasley designs tattoos for friends, owns a photography business, and practices all forms of art. She said she did not feel prepared to declare a major, but that the choice to major in art was only natural.
Some students prefer to make use of all available material before carefully deciding on a major. One such student is Brittany Bogle. She began exploring her main interests, science and math, by reading university brochures, narrowing her choice down to two engineering majors, then sitting through a couple classes of each. Now in her senior year, Bogle said she feels confident that her choice was a good one, even for the recession period. She expressed concerns that there are fewer companies that provide internships, but overall has seen engineering grow. “Our job is to reduce the spending of companies, which is exactly what they need right now,” Bogle said.
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