I am a police officer's wife.
Most people have an emotional response to that. The response ranges from empathy to distrust, from compassion to even a little fear.
Sometimes current events evoke a response; such has happened recently.
About a month ago a suspect shot and killed three police officers outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The suspect appeared to have no particular beef with the officers who responded to the call to 911; other than his killing the officers, he'd had no contact with them.
News such as this always makes me grateful that my husband is as careful as he is. It makes me appreciate my friends, some of whom offer their thanks when such news makes headlines. Although my husband had no connection to the Pittsburgh incident, we know that it's a possibility that he may be tomorrow's news story.
I don't often think about that aspect of his job. It is typical that an incident such as Pittsburgh's is random- it happens in response to a simple traffic stop, or while answering a routine call. Since it is so random, thinking about it serves no purpose- the chances are real but slim and I can't let them consume me.
When I was pregnant with Ted I was still working as a police legal adviser for the department he works for. When there was an officer-involved shooting, one of my tasks was to go to the scene and report back to my office- our office was eventually the office that would be representing the city in any subsequent lawsuit. When I was about 4 months along I was called to the scene of an officer-involved shooting.
The shooting happened in the district my husband patrols, during a preceding shift. The suspect was a paranoid schizophrenic who had the belief that police officers were actually space aliens who were going to steal his body. In a previous encounter with a different police department he'd blown his hands off with a hand grenade in an attempt to thwart the "alien." That police officer, a West Virginia state trooper, had saved the suspect's life.
In this incident the officer was responding to a domestic disturbance. The suspect was armed with a WWII era long gun loaded with armor-piercing rounds. The responding officer received a career-ending injury when a round penetrated his torso, just below his vest. The suspect fired several times but was eventually shot to death by the officers who responded. The primary officer involved was in the hospital for many weeks and returned to the job only for a short time- his injuries made it uncomfortable to wear his gear, even after a year of recovery.
Officers' wives pull together under such circumstances. I was one of many who made two meals for the family- we had a schedule that we followed so that they weren't inundated with too much food at once. I'd never met her before, but I knew that it could have as easily been me to get that phone call we all occasionally think about getting. The officer had done nothing wrong. He hadn't been sloppy. He was a good officer with a good reputation who was doing his job the way he was trained to do it. It happened anyway.
My husband and I have an agreement. If he's going to be more than a half-hour late getting home from work he calls me and lets me know. More than a half-hour late and I start to worry that I'm going to get that phone call. I think that maybe he's at the hospital and no one's thought to call me yet. I start to get anxious.
How he leaves for work every night is routine to the point of superstitious: He kisses me good night and tells me he loves me, I tell him I love him too. I tell him "Have a good night" and he walks down the hall and whispers at our children's doors that he loves each of them before heading downstairs and out the door. I have to tell him to have a good night. It's for me- he hasn't asked me to do it, but I feel like something's wrong if I say something different. He has his ritual, I have mine.
Every night for a fleeting moment just after he kisses me goodnight there lingers the the shadow of the prospect of getting that phone call. I expect that other officer's wives feel the same way when they see their husbands walk out the door.
People sometimes tell me that they couldn't do what I do- live with that specter. But I love my husband. He's been a police officer for his whole adult life. It's what he does. I don't want to change him- he's good at his job and those rare occasions when he gets to truly help someone he's reminded why he does it. When he tells me those stories he positively *sparkles*.
I don't think I do anything special just by being married to my husband. I'm happy with my life and I think I have it pretty good. As long as I never get that call.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Trouble with PBS
When the thorny subject of television comes up, that is how much and what type of television I allow my children to watch, it is often assumed that I only allow my kids to watch programs on PBS. My kids aren't interested in Sesame Street- they are Elmo impervious, so that's not an option.
The truth is that I don't like most of the PBS programs. Everything has a message- that is true with most kids' programming from what I can tell, but the messages that I often encounter on the PBS programs are messages I don't agree with. The episodes are too watered-down, too politically correct, too sissified I guess. When I explain this, I am met with raised eyebrows.
We just came back from vacation. Normally, I let the kids watch a couple of programs on Noggin or Discovery Kids but neither channel was available, so we watched a little PBS while we were there. I took note of one of the episodes so that I could give an example of what kind of message I take issue with.
The episode was a re-make of The Boy Who Cried Wolf.
The original goes something like this: A boy is charged with watching the prized sheep for a village in the mountains. He is lonely and bored with this task and at one point calls out that there is a wolf threatening the flock. The villagers all come running to help and discover that there is no wolf. The boy is chastised, but the excitement has given him some relief to the boredom. Despite his instructions to not "cry wolf," he does so again, purely for his own amusement. The villagers again come. The boy is again warned. The third time he cries "wolf" there really is a wolf, but the villagers do not believe him. The wolf decimates the flock of sheep. The message is that the alarm should have only been sounded when the threat was actual; sometimes one has to put the needs of the village above one's own amusement.
I don't think there's anything wrong with this story. I think the message is an important one. (And yes, I understand that the wolf is probably unfairly villianized in the original version.)
The PBS program version goes like this.
A boy makes friends with a wolf. He cries "wolf" so that the townsfolk can come and meet his new friend. The wolf has gone off to the bathroom when the townsfolk come. The townsfolk leave before the wolf returns. The boy and the wolf throw a party for the townsfolk so that they can meet the wolf. When the townsfolk arrive the wolf has gone off to retrieve a ball and so the townsfolk don't believe the boy that there really is a wolf. The boy tells the townsfolk that it "makes him feel bad that the people don't believe him. It hurts his feelings and they should trust him." The townsfolk agree and await the return of the wolf. The wolf returns and they all have a party. The townsfolk apologize to the boy for not believing him and hurting his feelings.
In the PBS version we were supposed to find the "super word" from the story. The word had 5 letters, among them were T R U _ _. I was convinced that the "super word" was going to be T R U T H because it was so important to tell the truth. I was wrong- the "super word" was T R U S T because the townsfolk should have trusted the boy.
The program that followed had the message that if you should be unfortunate enough to win some kind of physical challenge such as a race or contest of strength your first thought should not be one of personal pride, but rather of how to make the losers of the contest feel better about themselves. There was even a song to help drive this message home.
Not all of the programs are as offensive to me as the two highlighted above, but there is enough of that type of programming that I am disinclined to turn on PBS for my kids to watch. My kids watch the programs that I can deal with. If it's too annoying for me, they don't get to watch it.
They don't watch what I consider to be a lot of television, but I do use it as a tool to change moods or distract or to give myself a break during the day. I truly wish there was better programing out there for the kids. I don't find it on PBS. Life is hard and you don't always get to win. Sometimes you have to do things that are boring, difficult or painful. Not everyone will be nice all of the time. I give my kids a lot of positive reinforcement, but I don't think that I'd be doing them any favors if I set themselves up to believe that life was going to be rainbows and ponies all the time.
That's my trouble with PBS.
The truth is that I don't like most of the PBS programs. Everything has a message- that is true with most kids' programming from what I can tell, but the messages that I often encounter on the PBS programs are messages I don't agree with. The episodes are too watered-down, too politically correct, too sissified I guess. When I explain this, I am met with raised eyebrows.
We just came back from vacation. Normally, I let the kids watch a couple of programs on Noggin or Discovery Kids but neither channel was available, so we watched a little PBS while we were there. I took note of one of the episodes so that I could give an example of what kind of message I take issue with.
The episode was a re-make of The Boy Who Cried Wolf.
The original goes something like this: A boy is charged with watching the prized sheep for a village in the mountains. He is lonely and bored with this task and at one point calls out that there is a wolf threatening the flock. The villagers all come running to help and discover that there is no wolf. The boy is chastised, but the excitement has given him some relief to the boredom. Despite his instructions to not "cry wolf," he does so again, purely for his own amusement. The villagers again come. The boy is again warned. The third time he cries "wolf" there really is a wolf, but the villagers do not believe him. The wolf decimates the flock of sheep. The message is that the alarm should have only been sounded when the threat was actual; sometimes one has to put the needs of the village above one's own amusement.
I don't think there's anything wrong with this story. I think the message is an important one. (And yes, I understand that the wolf is probably unfairly villianized in the original version.)
The PBS program version goes like this.
A boy makes friends with a wolf. He cries "wolf" so that the townsfolk can come and meet his new friend. The wolf has gone off to the bathroom when the townsfolk come. The townsfolk leave before the wolf returns. The boy and the wolf throw a party for the townsfolk so that they can meet the wolf. When the townsfolk arrive the wolf has gone off to retrieve a ball and so the townsfolk don't believe the boy that there really is a wolf. The boy tells the townsfolk that it "makes him feel bad that the people don't believe him. It hurts his feelings and they should trust him." The townsfolk agree and await the return of the wolf. The wolf returns and they all have a party. The townsfolk apologize to the boy for not believing him and hurting his feelings.
In the PBS version we were supposed to find the "super word" from the story. The word had 5 letters, among them were T R U _ _. I was convinced that the "super word" was going to be T R U T H because it was so important to tell the truth. I was wrong- the "super word" was T R U S T because the townsfolk should have trusted the boy.
The program that followed had the message that if you should be unfortunate enough to win some kind of physical challenge such as a race or contest of strength your first thought should not be one of personal pride, but rather of how to make the losers of the contest feel better about themselves. There was even a song to help drive this message home.
Not all of the programs are as offensive to me as the two highlighted above, but there is enough of that type of programming that I am disinclined to turn on PBS for my kids to watch. My kids watch the programs that I can deal with. If it's too annoying for me, they don't get to watch it.
They don't watch what I consider to be a lot of television, but I do use it as a tool to change moods or distract or to give myself a break during the day. I truly wish there was better programing out there for the kids. I don't find it on PBS. Life is hard and you don't always get to win. Sometimes you have to do things that are boring, difficult or painful. Not everyone will be nice all of the time. I give my kids a lot of positive reinforcement, but I don't think that I'd be doing them any favors if I set themselves up to believe that life was going to be rainbows and ponies all the time.
That's my trouble with PBS.
Potty Training- Dante's Forgotten Circle
We finally got through Dante's Forgotten Circle of Hell- potty training the stubborn pre-schooler. I knew that timing was going to be pivotal with Ted- pushing him too early was simply going to make him intractable and it's not as though one can actually force a child to produce. My bigger problem, however, was going to be Henry.
Henry is a force of nature. He is part hurricane, part tornado, part earthquake and part flood. Leaving Henry alone while giving Ted the time and attention that potty training was going to demand was something I occasionally contemplated and I saw no solution to. I was disinclined to involve family due to the scope of the favor I'd be asking. Henry is tiring. Asking someone to come and watch him for 3-4 days while I worked with Ted seemed a monumental favor.
Then opportunity knocked.
Henry turned 2 on February 12. He received a train set and one of the engines from the "Thomas and Friends" tv series- "Henry." Henry the train is a fine, green engine with a smiling face and a coal tender. Ted coveted Henry the train. Ted would take the engine from Henry and I'd give it back. Ted would take it again and again and again. I'd give it back. Finally I said, "You know what, Ted? If you poop in the potty, I'll take you to the store and you can pick out whichever engine you want."
Henry, upon hearing this, jumped to his feet, marched upstairs and pooped in the potty.
The next day, February 14, I put them both in underpants and didn't look back.
Ted's totally potty trained and about 2 weeks into the process he decided he wanted underpants at night instead of a Pull-Up- he's been completely dry at night. Henry got an ear infection and went on antibiotics. Any mom who's had a child on antibiotics knows what that can do to a child's digestive system and I'll just say that I was glad we went back to diapers for him. He'll probably train again this summer- I'm not worried about Henry. Henry will do it on his own, when he's ready. Henry's a force of nature.
Henry is a force of nature. He is part hurricane, part tornado, part earthquake and part flood. Leaving Henry alone while giving Ted the time and attention that potty training was going to demand was something I occasionally contemplated and I saw no solution to. I was disinclined to involve family due to the scope of the favor I'd be asking. Henry is tiring. Asking someone to come and watch him for 3-4 days while I worked with Ted seemed a monumental favor.
Then opportunity knocked.
Henry turned 2 on February 12. He received a train set and one of the engines from the "Thomas and Friends" tv series- "Henry." Henry the train is a fine, green engine with a smiling face and a coal tender. Ted coveted Henry the train. Ted would take the engine from Henry and I'd give it back. Ted would take it again and again and again. I'd give it back. Finally I said, "You know what, Ted? If you poop in the potty, I'll take you to the store and you can pick out whichever engine you want."
Henry, upon hearing this, jumped to his feet, marched upstairs and pooped in the potty.
The next day, February 14, I put them both in underpants and didn't look back.
Ted's totally potty trained and about 2 weeks into the process he decided he wanted underpants at night instead of a Pull-Up- he's been completely dry at night. Henry got an ear infection and went on antibiotics. Any mom who's had a child on antibiotics knows what that can do to a child's digestive system and I'll just say that I was glad we went back to diapers for him. He'll probably train again this summer- I'm not worried about Henry. Henry will do it on his own, when he's ready. Henry's a force of nature.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Battle of the Fish
Sibling rivalry has begun.
We have gotten little glimpses of it, but the events of Wednesday evening were a very clear picture of what we have in store.
On Wednesday evening Nate and I had errands to run. I wanted to go to World Market to pick up some dishes for Thanksgiving; Nate needed new thermals from Dick's. The stores are next to each other, so we each took a kid and went our separate ways. I took Ted because Henry + fragile sparkly things = disaster but Ted is much more cautious and respectful. While we were there, Ted fell in love with a fish. The fish is a bright plastic clown fish with a green worm-on-a-string at his mouth and when you pull on the worm, the fish's tail flaps back and forth. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" I heard over and over while my dishes were being wrapped.
Nate caught up to me and we all got in the car. I'd purchased the fish for Ted and hadn't thought to get anything for Henry. (I thought that Nate, upon seeing Ted with the fish would divine that I expected him to let Henry pick something out too. We don't normally let the kids pick something out just for going along, but I was feeling indulgent.)
The whole way home Ted flapped the fish's tail. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" Henry grew more and more desperate in the adjacent car seat. Two-thirds of the way home he was weeping "FSH FSH FSH" and pointing to the toy.
When we got home I needed to make dinner, a task much more easily accomplished without monkeys trying to climb up my leg, so we sequestered the kids. I convinced Ted to let Henry have a turn with the "fsh" while Ted watched a video in his room. This involved a couple of tears, but the toy was surrendered without huge amounts of protest and I took the fish to Henry, still crying with grief in the family room.
Henry giggled and cooed at the fish. He pulled the worm and watched the tail flap. "FSH!" When he'd thoroughly examined it, he went up the stairs to Ted's room.
He opened the door, brandished it at Ted and took off running down the hall. Ted was in hot pursuit, "Give it back, Henry!" Henry, realizing that Ted was gaining on him, threw the fish down the stairs, giving me the opportunity to pick it up and squirrel it in a closet.
Henry often surprises up with his resourcefulness and cheek. Considering that he's not even two yet, we expect we will have many Henry stories to tell as the years pass.
We have gotten little glimpses of it, but the events of Wednesday evening were a very clear picture of what we have in store.
On Wednesday evening Nate and I had errands to run. I wanted to go to World Market to pick up some dishes for Thanksgiving; Nate needed new thermals from Dick's. The stores are next to each other, so we each took a kid and went our separate ways. I took Ted because Henry + fragile sparkly things = disaster but Ted is much more cautious and respectful. While we were there, Ted fell in love with a fish. The fish is a bright plastic clown fish with a green worm-on-a-string at his mouth and when you pull on the worm, the fish's tail flaps back and forth. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" I heard over and over while my dishes were being wrapped.
Nate caught up to me and we all got in the car. I'd purchased the fish for Ted and hadn't thought to get anything for Henry. (I thought that Nate, upon seeing Ted with the fish would divine that I expected him to let Henry pick something out too. We don't normally let the kids pick something out just for going along, but I was feeling indulgent.)
The whole way home Ted flapped the fish's tail. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" Henry grew more and more desperate in the adjacent car seat. Two-thirds of the way home he was weeping "FSH FSH FSH" and pointing to the toy.
When we got home I needed to make dinner, a task much more easily accomplished without monkeys trying to climb up my leg, so we sequestered the kids. I convinced Ted to let Henry have a turn with the "fsh" while Ted watched a video in his room. This involved a couple of tears, but the toy was surrendered without huge amounts of protest and I took the fish to Henry, still crying with grief in the family room.
Henry giggled and cooed at the fish. He pulled the worm and watched the tail flap. "FSH!" When he'd thoroughly examined it, he went up the stairs to Ted's room.
He opened the door, brandished it at Ted and took off running down the hall. Ted was in hot pursuit, "Give it back, Henry!" Henry, realizing that Ted was gaining on him, threw the fish down the stairs, giving me the opportunity to pick it up and squirrel it in a closet.
Henry often surprises up with his resourcefulness and cheek. Considering that he's not even two yet, we expect we will have many Henry stories to tell as the years pass.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Mystery of the Cookie Cutter
I have lots of cookie cutters that I've gotten from various sources. I've purchased many of them myself- there's a site that I like using- great prices, fast service- it's this one: 
Others were handed to me in their ubiquitous fruitcake tins, complete with a strip of masking tape and the words "Cookie Cutters" written across the tape in black permanent marker.
Some of them are easy to identify. The teddy bears, bells, pine trees and gingerbread men are obvious. Some are less so- the Christmas wreath is plain enough when it's decorated, but not as identifiable before adornment. Some are more obscure- Santa with a pack or a reindeer can sit to the side, unincluded until halfway through the cookie making process when someone declares, "I know what that is!" Is it a bear? Or a dog? Or a sheep? Who knows? Clearly that one is some type of quadruped and the kids will enjoy decorating it how they see fit.
Then there are the other ones that remain a mystery.
I finally figured out how to determine what those cookie cutters represent: ask a three-year-old.
I have one cookie cutter that I'd routinely pull out just to try to solve the mystery. "What is this?" Most people wouldn't even venture a guess.
One person declared it was a leprechaun with a very large penis. "Come on," I asked,"why would someone make a cookie cutter in the shape of a leprechaun with a very large penis?" "Well," she retorted, "If you're so sure that's not what it is, then tell me- what is it?" I had no answer for her- I'd been trying to figure it out for a couple of years. Since I had no answer for her, she declared herself right.
I finally found out what it is.
"Ted," I asked yesterday while making gingerbread cookies with the kids, "What is this cookie cutter supposed to be?" Without pause he answered, "It's a penguin, mommy!" That's much more appealing than the leprechaun. My other mystery cookie cutter was identified as "A rabbit wearing a hat, Mommy!" Very well then.
Anyone want a penguin cookie?
Others were handed to me in their ubiquitous fruitcake tins, complete with a strip of masking tape and the words "Cookie Cutters" written across the tape in black permanent marker.
Some of them are easy to identify. The teddy bears, bells, pine trees and gingerbread men are obvious. Some are less so- the Christmas wreath is plain enough when it's decorated, but not as identifiable before adornment. Some are more obscure- Santa with a pack or a reindeer can sit to the side, unincluded until halfway through the cookie making process when someone declares, "I know what that is!" Is it a bear? Or a dog? Or a sheep? Who knows? Clearly that one is some type of quadruped and the kids will enjoy decorating it how they see fit.
Then there are the other ones that remain a mystery.
I finally figured out how to determine what those cookie cutters represent: ask a three-year-old.
I have one cookie cutter that I'd routinely pull out just to try to solve the mystery. "What is this?" Most people wouldn't even venture a guess.
One person declared it was a leprechaun with a very large penis. "Come on," I asked,"why would someone make a cookie cutter in the shape of a leprechaun with a very large penis?" "Well," she retorted, "If you're so sure that's not what it is, then tell me- what is it?" I had no answer for her- I'd been trying to figure it out for a couple of years. Since I had no answer for her, she declared herself right.
I finally found out what it is.
"Ted," I asked yesterday while making gingerbread cookies with the kids, "What is this cookie cutter supposed to be?" Without pause he answered, "It's a penguin, mommy!" That's much more appealing than the leprechaun. My other mystery cookie cutter was identified as "A rabbit wearing a hat, Mommy!" Very well then.
Anyone want a penguin cookie?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Smiles, Smiles Everyone!
I have recently joined Facebook. I have been surprised by the number of people who have re-connected with me there. I have caught up with friends I lost touch with, some more than twenty years ago.
I go to the profiles and if they have photo albums I will often take a few minutes to look at the pictures they have uploaded. The snapshots of my friends' lives are truly inspiring. I see such love and joy and affection beaming out from my computer screen.
I am a sap. I am glad about that. I have been brought to tears by the happy pictures of my old friends. It brings me true joy to know that the people I care about have so much in their lives.
So keep posting the pictures my friends because you often make my day better. :)
I go to the profiles and if they have photo albums I will often take a few minutes to look at the pictures they have uploaded. The snapshots of my friends' lives are truly inspiring. I see such love and joy and affection beaming out from my computer screen.
I am a sap. I am glad about that. I have been brought to tears by the happy pictures of my old friends. It brings me true joy to know that the people I care about have so much in their lives.
So keep posting the pictures my friends because you often make my day better. :)
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Editorial Comments Re-thought (Or Use a Stamp, Please!)
I read my news online by-and-large. I receive the local paper on Saturday and Sunday only and sometimes I don't have the time to read it- occasionally it will go into the recyclable-paper bag almost completely unread.
It's easy enough to click on the news links when I take a few minutes each day to check my email and catch up with my fellow bulletin-board members. I've got a couple of news sites saved so that's often how I receive my news. I try to stop reading once I reach the bottom of the article but occasionally I can't stop myself and continue reading.
What comes after the text of the article are the viewer-supplied editorial comments. The vitriol and ignorance contained in these missives is always startling.
I think it's simply too easy to provide comments. Anyone with a computer can dial in their viciousness for all to ponder- no stamp required.
My grandfather used to carefully craft letters to the editor. He was a wordsmith and an educator- he wrote his letters because he felt that his opinion could change something he viewed as wrong. He was proud when a letter was published. He was very careful about what he wrote- every word was thought-out.
I wonder what he would think if he read some of the things that I have read in the editorial comments- offerings such as "but anyway maybe turning urselfs into some kind of stupid tactics is too complicated and i hope people wont peak on you or i hope it last!" (I culled that gem, verbatim, offered as a full sentence, from something I read today.)
I've heard it said said that people should have something invested in what they own in order to get them to treat it with respect. Perhaps the same is true with opinions. If editorial comments could not be made anonymously and required some kind of investment, such as a stamp, then the quality of what is being offered would be better contemplated and maybe even worth reading.
Maybe these sites should have some kind of terms:
Before submitting your editorial comment you must check the box:
"By checking the box I certify that my opinion is valuable, contains an opinion worth sharing, is not overly repetitive, has been edited for content and grammar...."
I believe that most people don't read the terms they're agreeing to with those "check the box" notifications though, so maybe a $.42 stamp would be a better investment to require.
Until that time comes to pass, I'm going to continue to try to keep myself from reading beyond the text of the articles!
It's easy enough to click on the news links when I take a few minutes each day to check my email and catch up with my fellow bulletin-board members. I've got a couple of news sites saved so that's often how I receive my news. I try to stop reading once I reach the bottom of the article but occasionally I can't stop myself and continue reading.
What comes after the text of the article are the viewer-supplied editorial comments. The vitriol and ignorance contained in these missives is always startling.
I think it's simply too easy to provide comments. Anyone with a computer can dial in their viciousness for all to ponder- no stamp required.
My grandfather used to carefully craft letters to the editor. He was a wordsmith and an educator- he wrote his letters because he felt that his opinion could change something he viewed as wrong. He was proud when a letter was published. He was very careful about what he wrote- every word was thought-out.
I wonder what he would think if he read some of the things that I have read in the editorial comments- offerings such as "but anyway maybe turning urselfs into some kind of stupid tactics is too complicated and i hope people wont peak on you or i hope it last!" (I culled that gem, verbatim, offered as a full sentence, from something I read today.)
I've heard it said said that people should have something invested in what they own in order to get them to treat it with respect. Perhaps the same is true with opinions. If editorial comments could not be made anonymously and required some kind of investment, such as a stamp, then the quality of what is being offered would be better contemplated and maybe even worth reading.
Maybe these sites should have some kind of terms:
Before submitting your editorial comment you must check the box:
"By checking the box I certify that my opinion is valuable, contains an opinion worth sharing, is not overly repetitive, has been edited for content and grammar...."
I believe that most people don't read the terms they're agreeing to with those "check the box" notifications though, so maybe a $.42 stamp would be a better investment to require.
Until that time comes to pass, I'm going to continue to try to keep myself from reading beyond the text of the articles!
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