Organizational Behavior (1) Assignment Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Organizational Behavior (1) - Assignment Example This paper will describe the 21st century manager and discuss how various organizational cultures influence such managers. The 21st century manager is faced with the duty of managing people in this era of change. This era is characterized by technological innovation, deregulation, globalization, new political systems, a new workforce mentality, more service-oriented jobs and a new emphasis on "knowledge work† (Hofstede, 1980). These are the changes that managers and their organizations ought to progressively respond to in order to achieve effective organizational structures (Gomez-Mejia, Balkin & Cardy, 2008). To discuss how organizational culture influences the 21st century manager, it is important to define organizational culture. Organizational culture is a set of shared mental suppositions that guide action and interpretation in organizations by outlining apposite behavior for various situations (Hofstede, 1980). Cultures develop in organizations due to internal integration and external adaptation. External adaptation mirrors an evolutionary tactic to organizational culture and proposes that cultures exist since they assist an organization to subsist and flourish. If the culture is useful, then it embraces the prospective for engendering constant competitive advantages. Internal integration, on the other hand is a valuable function because social structures are requisite for establishments to exist. Organizational practices are cultured through socialization at the workplace. Work environments strengthen culture on a daily basis by encouraging workers to exercise cultural values (Gome z-Mejia, Balkin & Cardy, 2008). Organizational culture influences managers to embrace behaviors that persuade employees to embark on tasks in a constructive and empowering way. Managers in the 21st century have learnt to embrace the contingency approach to management in a business world that is faced with diverse and ever growing pool of management techniques and

The Effect of Prenatal Alcohol Exposure Essay Example for Free

The Effect of Prenatal Alcohol Exposure Essay Introduction: Alcohol is a drug with a depressant effect. Alcohol can negatively affect your brain, liver, central nervous system, and heart. The immediate effects of alcohol consumption are delayed reflexes and slurred speech. Since it is a depressant, alcohol slows down your brain. Consuming alcohol regularly can also lead to alcoholism. Alcoholism is a long-term chronic disease, it is when you a mentally or physically addicted to alcohol. Alcohol is a dangerous drug and should be consumed, if at all, under moderation. A teratogen is any agent that can damage a fetus and therefore cause a birth defect. Alcohol is one of the most dangerous teratogens. There is no proven safe level of alcohol consumption during pregnancy. Every time a pregnant woman has a drink, the alcohol enters her bloodstream. It crosses the placenta and enters the fetus through the umbilical cord. So every time a pregnant woman has a drink, her baby does too! The blood alcohol level of the fetus is therefore equal to or greater than the blood alcohol level of the mother. Though the mother can break down the alcohol, the fetus’ underdeveloped body cannot. Thus, it maintains the blood alcohol level for much longer. You can imagine that fetus’ have a very low tolerance for alcohol. Exposure to alcohol affects almost every part of a fetus’ body. The brain, face, ears, eyes, bones, kidney, and heart are all affected by alcohol. It causes blood vessels to constrict and disrupts the blood flow in the placenta. Oxygen and nourishment are thus prevented from entering the developing fetus. Cell deaths caused by alcohol cause different parts of the fetus to develop abnormally. The development of nerve cells is also affected by alcohol, which may impact the way the brain develops, and functions. The brain is the most vulnerable to alcohol exposure since it is developing throughout pregnancy. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is a life long condition with effects such as mental retardation, growth deficiency, abnormal facial features, and central nervous system problems. It develops in babies whose mother drank excessive levels of alcohol during pregnancy. Since no level of alcohol consumption is considered safe during pregnancy, it is highly recommended not to drink at all. Surveys shows that approximately 130,000 women have admitted to consuming levels of alcohol where Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is possible. 40,000 women, unfortunately give birth to a baby with suffers from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is the most serve of the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. Babies with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome have central nervous system damage. Since of the prenatal alcohol exposure, the brain cells are either underdeveloped or malformed. It is the number one cause for mental retardation. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome not only causes cognitive disabilities, but also functional disabilities. Unfortunately, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is permanent and incurable. It not only affects the baby, but the family that must raise the baby. One of the symptoms of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is growth deficiency. Anyone with a growth deficiency is either underweight, under height, or both. Those who suffer from it fall below the tenth percentile of standardized growth charts. Severe growth deficiency is defined when height and weight are either less than or equal to the third percentile. Moderate growth deficiency is when the height or the weight is either less than or equal to the third percentile. While mild growth deficiency is when both weight and height are between the third and tenth percentile. â€Å" In classic cases, FAS children grow taller at about 60 percent of the normal rate through early childhood, while their weight increases at about 33 percent of the normal rate. Thus, they appear unusually slender or even malnourished despite an adequate diet. (Jon M Aase, MD 1998) † The children will remain smaller than ninety percent of other same aged normal children. Another symptom of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is abnormal facial features. The presence of abnormal facial feature indicates brain damage. Three facial features that are unique to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome are a smooth philtrum, thin vermilion, and small palpebral fissures. A smooth philtrum means the groove between the nose and upper lip is flatter than normal. The higher the prenatal alcohol exposure, the flatter the groove. Small palpebral fissure is smaller eye width than normal and thin vermilion is a thinner upper lip. The last symptom of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is central nervous system damage. There are thee areas to determine the magnitude of central nervous system damage. They are structural, neurological, and functional. Structural abnormalities can be seen such as small head size or abnormal brain structure. Structural abnormalities usually occur during the third trimester of pregnancy when alcohol affects the organization of brain cells. Neurological problems can also affect the peripheral nervous system, which consists of the somatic and autonomic nervous system. Some Neurological problems are seizure, impaired motor skills, clumsiness, and horrible hand- eye coordination. Functional problems are often referred to as development disabilities such as learning disabilities, etc. During the third trimester of pregnancy, the hippocampus can be damaged. The hippocampus is the major component of the brain in mammal and responsible for memory, emotion, decoding visual and auditory data, and learning. Damage of the hippocampus usually results in neurological and functional problems. The only way to prevent Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is to not drink during pregnancy. â€Å" A mother must be a heavy drinker throughout her pregnancy in order for her baby to be diagnosed with FAS. Drinking during the first trimester of pregnancy produces the facial abnormalities characteristic of FAS. Drinking during the second and third trimesters affects growth. Drinking during the third trimester results in dysfunction of the nervous system, mental retardation and learning/behavior deficiencies. ( Mesa 1997) † Breast-feeding while pregnant is also a big no-no. Breast milk retains small amounts of alcohol and while breast feeding it is passed onto the baby. Babies with mother’s who consumed small amounts of alcohol were shown to have trouble acquiring motor skills. Mother’s who consume large amounts of alcohol may altogether lose the ability to breast-feed. The ejection of milk from the breast will become difficult. It is recommended to wait two hours if you do have a drink before breast-feeding for the best health of the baby. There are many other birth defects a baby can suffer from other than Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Prenatal Alcohol Exposures may cause a heart murmur in a baby. A murmur is an unusual sound heard from the heart caused by leaking valve. Another condition is Strabismus. This is when the eyes are not properly aligned. Cleft lip is also another abnormality. â€Å" Prenatal exposure to alcohol can damage a fetus at any time, causing problems that persist throughout the individual’s life. There is no known safe level of alcohol use in pregnancy. (US Health Dept 2007) † So alcohol should be completely avoided during pregnancy. References http://casaa. unm. edu/fas/FAS-Clin. html http://www. mc. maricopa. edu/dept/d46/psy/dev/fall00/Substance/fas. html http://www. cdc. gov/ncbddd/fasd/alcohol-use. html http://www. mayoclinic. com/health/fetal-alcohol-syndrome/ds00184 http://www. marchofdimes. com/professionals/14332_1170. asp#head1 www. cdc. gov/ncbddd/fas/fasprev. htm.

Alice In Wonderland Movie Review Film Studies Essay

Alice In Wonderland Movie Review Film Studies Essay The film I choose to write a critical review of is Alice in Wonderland (2010). The genres of the film have aspects that are adventure, action, adventure, comedy, fantasy, animation, kids, science fiction and family. The original novel written in 1865 by the English author Charles Lutwidge Dodgson with the pseudonym Lewis Carroll consisted of a progression of haphazard dealings and character connections. It was enjoyable to see the characters in the movie were able to work together to achieve an exceptional outcome. Alice in the original novel wanders around a dreamland that deals with her own apprehensions and her vague expectation that events will not be all pleasant and trouble-free. All of these captivating characters, landscapes and experiences spread out in a dream language. Given this is the essence of the original this, it should be an easy undertaking to produce a movie that really leaves a lasting impression .The overall result of the film is not impressive beyond what would be expected from this style of work but and it is a fun atmosphere. Where the film succeeds, it does succeed very well, all to the consistency of Tim Burtons imaginative and creative visuals. Each genre has a thematic and stylistic territory, and sometimes the style of one genre spills into the thematic territory of another. This sort of innovation is not the kind that is normally recognized as the work of a genius, but is considered merely clever. Yet it is the kind of innovation and playing with boundaries that keeps audiences coming to genre movies. (University, Unit 1: The Usefulness of Genre) Alice in Wonderland (2010) is not a retelling, reworking or a remaking of the original childrens classic novels by Lewis Carroll but is a version that is a sequel to the original. It is not even the 1951 Disney adaptation. If the viewer is expecting a pure and complete adaptation, then there may be some disappoint. Instead, Tim Burton re-imagines the esteemed and treasured story in the genuine good judgment of recreation. This is by giving Alice an added and established background, in addition to a romantic subplot involving Alice and the Mad Hatter. There is also much more focus on the conflict concerning good and evil. It is the classic tale of good against evil and the stunning and dramatic final battle of good versus evil that ensues. Alice is to slay a monster that has been predicted by the scroll. Tim Burtons, Alice in Wonderland more than does the classic tale justice. Danny Elfman composes the wonderful music is very nice but ultimately completely unforgettable and always be top notch. Then there are the marvellous visual effects, excellent acting and amazing animation and design. This is a movie that will indulge your senses. The Mad Hatter has an intensity and capacity of character that was downplayed by the movie trailers. In the trailers, only the upbeat Mad Hatter was seen. He has a darker side to his character as well as madness of the darkest sort is by no means far off from the surface. The Mad Hatter is by far one of the greatest characters in the film. Alices expedition that allowed growth from a timid, to some extent unconventional, girl into an audacious and heroic young woman is magnificent and convincing. Alice brought back together with her friends from childhood: the Cheshire Cat, the Caterpillar, the Dormouse, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, the Mad Hatter, and of course the White Rabbit. Alice enters into an extraordinary journey to d iscover her true destiny and conclude the Red Queens supremacy over the land. Tim Burton did not strive for bright and beautiful magic, but for dreary and wasteful once a wonderland The movie is not the dark world that Tim Burton usually gives his audience but a softer more child friendly world. The story picks up when Alice is 19-years old and subsequent to the passing of her father. She is proposed to be married away and feeling pressured, she runs off, following the white rabbit, which leads her to into Wonderland. She only vaguely remembers this magical place from childhood. The story is admittedly a very simple one but one that can be easily followed. It is to the storys credit that Alice is now an adult, as it is able to facilitate many more happenings in Wonderland. A place where things can be sometimes be quite grotesque, unfriendly and bizarre. It is an out of the ordinary adventure and tale about a young womans voyage to an alternate reality. That is testing the strength of her will power, resourcefulness and courage in the visage of danger and weirdness. Wonderland is an extension of Alices frustrations with the real world where she felt that she had many expectations from outside forces. Alice in Wonderland succeeds on numerous levels that I am uncertain who would fail to not be charmed by it. The film even has glance and hints at Alices early life. It is also to my surprise touching specifically the relationship between Alice and her father. The film measures up to other films in its genre in that it is a family movie that has a charming and interesting story. It is full of interesting characters and a journey through Wonderland to observe all sorts of attention-grabbing landscapes. There is a positive impact on this film on other films since to bring a classic back in a new way leads the pack. It is intended for adults and children to watch together. The film is a wondrous piece of escapism. The social context of the film like many of Tim Burtons movies amuses at specifically the kind of individual who does not get this movie. Tim Burtons Alice in Wonderland is a magnificent metaphor for the correlation between Tim Burton and his audience. These are individuals who have lost touch with the wonderment of their own childhoods. These same individuals who are mostly connected to the idea of what is proper and fashionable. The uninteresting people with little imagination and even less open-mindedness for it in others. The premise of the movie is to facilitate the idea that only small amounts of people in the world and only the best people still have that kind of limitless imagination. They are the ones that can find enjoyment in the truly original, even as the rest of civil society considers them as being eccentric, outlandish, or simply awkward. These people are represented in the film both in the real world at the party and another time in the Red Queens court. Movies have no scruples. They are always borrowing from literature or adapting novels wholesale into feature films. And, as everyone who has ever read a novel that has been turned into a movie know, the book is always better-simply because books pay attention to detail; they describe rather than depict characters (so readers can form their own impressions); and they paint a broader canvas of life-changing events. Movies always leave things out. They change the original story, of which the readers are extremely protective. (University, Unit 2: Genre History and Literary Precedents) For all the individuals that were not able to enjoy the movie as a form of entertain then they have lost the child in them. Individuals will complain about it not being accurate to the original book but in time, they will accept it. A generation from now this original film will be analyzed as one of the greatest creative fantasies of our present times. The idea that this is how people may feel in the modern day, which is pressured into something, they really do not want to do. This certainly proceeds impeccably with the extra background story. Many people may be able to relate to this idea. It is an important film in its genre because it will be a classic of our time of ingenuity. A classic tale reinvented to fit our modern ways of thinking and life. The film strengths concerning its generic element are that this is easily Burtons finest work, and while he takes some liberties with Lewis Carrolls classic, there are still ample amounts of the traditional Alice character traits to satisfy everyone. The film has rejuvenated the antique theme about Alice reclaiming her muchness and defying societal expectations. Wonderland is bestowed with amusement that is constant. A film adaptation should, of course, treat its source material as inspiration rather than dogma and this is clearly, what Tim Burton intended and has achieved. The films weaknesses concerning its generic elements are that it is such a well know tale that has been told repeatedly. It is hard to truly find a story that is not based upon another story these days. It does not help that fate is the key component to in the story. This added to the predictability of events given they are foretold to us early on. This causing the computer generated imagery or CGI technology to h eavy climactic battle to underwhelm when it does inevitably arrive. Wonderland is just how woefully conventional it all is. I found it very easy to care for the characters in this film. The conclusion came across as deeply extraordinary, as good was able to triumph. Society loves when good wins over evil because it gives everyone a good feeling. The audience has been given so much to empathize with. The character development is interesting to be to get to know these characters a little bit better. When Alice comes back around her extended family, she is then one by one imparting her newly learned knowledge onto them. This is a true sense that she had grown and become wiser. The journey to Wonderland has made absolutely very much difference to the Alices state of mind. At the commencement, she does not want to be married to the aristocratic and has a choice to make. By the end, she still does not want to be married to the aristocratic but she has been able to prevail in self-discovery in the span of time that she left. She has grown and learned about her strengths. She now knows what she truly wants to be able to make the necessary decisions that will affect her in a positive way. An easily enjoyable movie with much character depth.

being in college :: essays research papers fc

Prof. Wu Essay #2 The Learning ?Life? Everyone goes through this journey in his or life. Some fare better than others do; yet we all strive onward. The journey in I am discussing is the schooling system. It is set up for an individual to progress gradually through levels; each designed specifically for stage in which the mind is, at that point in time. Some may agree and some will disagree, but the reality is everyone is ?graded? throughout his or life according to school when it is the knowledge learned outside of class, which makes the difference.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Looking back on my previous years of schooling, I have noticed that many of the subjects covered in school do not exactly deal with the ?real world.? For instance, when is the last time someone has used the number x giving the price of an item? There is no number x. Or when has someone asked for the year in which Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin. These are facts of useless information. Unfortunately, these facts must be known for a person to reach the next level of learning (grade). I do not understand why classes are not taught for an individual to learn how to change the oil in his or her car or even change the tires, common material needed for everyday life.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Many times though I remember the teachers whose job was to teach the students these ?useless? facts and theories. I often admired many of them for the pure reason of them trying to adapt their teachings to ?real world? subjects. They understood that everything that they teach their students is not going to be used, but they know that it will make them a well-rounded individual. Teachers know when students do not care a lot about the subject in which they teach, as Terkel says in his essay, so they use tricks to enchant the minds of the students. ?Falling asleep is a tendency of the students,? Kelly states. History teachers for example usually talk about current events that all the students are familiar with and then tie the history event with the current event. Science teachers will conduct experiments using paper airplanes and lipstick to bring an idea across to every student. In his essay, Neusner explains different grading policies for students to grade their t eachers. ?Students should look at teachers as teachers look at students,?

In case you forget

There was death at the start, just as there was death at the end. Though whether a fleeting wisp of this crossed the Irishman's dreams and shook him awake on this least likely of mornings, he would never know. All he knew that when he opened his eyes that the world was somehow changed. As always the first thought that come to his head was the quick, searing hope that the last eight weeks had never happened. But as he saw the pale morning light filtering through her curtains, reality hit him with an icy certainty-Aileen was dead, and it was his entire fault. He looked at his alarm clock; 7:00 shone angrily at him in red, making him turn back to the wall. It beeped impatiently at him, and it was that, not the cold, which finally gave him the thought to give up his worthy fight and struggle out of bed. He breathed in the faint lingering smell of musty perfume. Photos of horses stared down at him from the walls. He was in his wife's room. A coat was slung over the chair where Aileen had left that morning of the accident. The hairbrush of the table was coated in a fine layer of dust, a few blonde hairs clinging to the bristles. Nothing in the room had changed for four weeks, not since the day Aileen Flaherty died. At the sight of the familiar things, his stomach twisted. He glanced at the photo of him and her. Pat and Allie. Patrick Harper and Aileen Flaherty. Sergeant Major and Horse whisperer. Mr and Mrs Patrick Harper. Husband and wife. There were tears in his eyes, which he reckoned was from the dust in the room. He got dressed. His kharki and olive uniform was oddly loose after the tight dress uniform of the funeral. Harper gazed in the mirror. Everything was to military precision. His blue eyes had not lost the desperation and soulessness that the dark alleyways of Dublin required. He picked up his rifle and placed a finger in a notch of unpolished metal. It was this small dip, in the butt of the gun, which gave Patrick Harper the small amount of Gaelic luck, which soldiers said was invincible. He just wanted to get out of this room. It was too much to bear; knowing that Allie was never coming back. A small silver locket was worn around his throat. It had saved the sergeant-major's life once, a stranger had fired across the street and the tall Irishman shivered at the thought of what would have happened if the precious metal heart had not been attached around his neck. A small photo of his soul mate was in it, and he was suddenly angry that he had it. He made a mental note to take it off later. The week that had followed Aillie's death had been a blur, and for him it was probably best that it had remained like that. For days he had been almost catatonic. The Latin words had washed meaninglessly over him and he read, dry-eyed, over and over her name and date of birth and death. And still tears would not come. He wanted to cry, he really did, but something was stopping him. He could only think of the blood on her neck which looked like a necklace of broken rubies and that he had noticed irrelevantly that red didn't not suit her and he made a note not to buy her a ruby necklace for her birthday. He had felt the sting of tears as he knelt beside her and held the silent, still warm body that he most loved in the world and had cried out inside at his own brutality. Her warmth would fade just as the memory of her would fade and he would forget the character that gave this exquisite creature life and love. She would exist now only in his memory and of those of who had known her best. She had given herself to him and never doubted the decision, unlike him. And now he had killed her. It should have been himself who had been caught in the blast, he who died, not this and his grief was formless, incoherent, a pain of betrayed love. The war-lord had not even noticed the girl in Harper's arms. ‘Congratulations. You did it.' He had done it so that he could free Ireland and St Patrick. He had done it so that innocent blood had been spilt on the pavement. He had done it so that he could feel a pain, so great, that he would never feel it again. They had then given him thirty silver coins, for his service to Ireland. Five pounds fifty in change, exactly. Every one of those thirty pieces of silver to him was blood money. Blood that was still fresh on his hands and would remain so for evermore. Sometimes he would wake up and feel happy and then he would see the blank postcard on the desk, still franked, but it meant that someone close had died for his or her country. Then the happiness went. Sometimes he would see her in the street and his heart leaped. Then the knowledge that she no longer existed would sink in. It was the training day of the recruits that had brought about the change. The sergeant- major had stabbed his bayonet repeatedly into the belly of the straw bales dressed in the uniform of English paratroopers. He had lost his humanity then, humanity that Allie had unearthed during their married years. He had felt the tears coming to his eyes. Tears of guilt and anger, no longer held back by the crushing weight of guilt, flooded over his cheeks. It unlocked a sluice gate inside of him and for two weeks he wept and let out all the pain, that as a soldier he was trained to ignore. He could have drowned himself in the salty water that was not rain. But in the calm aftermath, Harper took stock and decided to survive. In that moment he had became an adult. You could see it when he didn't know he was being watched, and from his eyes glittered a sad and old Gaelic magic, as old as time itself. Patrick Harper opened his diary. It was April the 12th, six weeks since the bomb had been secretly planted and with it buried the bloodied remains of his spouse's body. That was strange. April was already a dozen days old, Allie's death already eight weeks in the past. He had marked with a pencil March the twenty-fourth to the first of April because that was when he had expected his first child. He remembered how the bloom of pregnancy was in her and how beautiful she had looked in those heavy months. He looked at the chair, in which she had sat and told him about his child and he had held her, speechless. His child. He had been so happy then. There was no joy now. The rifle was thrown down because he did not want to hold a killing machine any longer. As a top marksman he had spilt enough innocent blood. Much more than he could count. He checked his wallet. A library card that expired today, but he had not the heart or the energy to renew it. Aillie had encouraged him to read, to take his mind off what he knew she knew that he had done the whole day. She had kept silent on the whole issue, but he knew that she didn't approve. He had read just to keep her happy, but in the week before the accident he had taken to reading her the story of Macbeth. The man who had killed to get what he had wanted, lost his humanity, and could not back out. In the end it had destroyed him. He remembered that Lady Macbeth went mad from the blood on her hands. That there was a darkness in her that she could not escape. Perhaps there was a darkness in him too. There was a shopping list in there too, which she had typed up so that he could go and get something to eat. She had said that she was coming in a bit later as she had to check up on the horses at the stables. She had never come home. He had ripped it into three pieces, because he thought it not worthy of her. He had saved a piece, the only bit where her actual handwriting was shown and he pulled it out now and marvelled that he had never actually seen her own scruffy hand until after her death. His hand carefully placed the relic back into his wallet along with the library card, the pocket diary and the thirty silver coins that he had yet to summon the courage to either ignore or destroy them. The cuckoo clock on the wall opened its tiny wooden doors and the cheerful little bird popped out announcing that it was half past seven. It was always late and Harper automatically checked the time on his own analogue watch, without realising that it had already stopped working on the twenty-second of March. The day his world stood still. Harper reckoned it was the blast that had destroyed the mainspring. But he had taken it along to the fixing shop anyway and had said that it had fallen off the table onto the floor. No one noticed the lie, nor the pricking of tears that covered up the real truth. He had wanted to tell them the truth, to shrug off the awful weight of his conscience, but there was a lady behind him. They could not fix it and told him that it was a lost cause and also asked him if he was sure if it had fallen onto the table as surely a greater force had broken it. He answered curtly that he had an extremely hard floor and the case was left as that, as no one dared cross the tall man with dried blood on his shirt. It was getting light and he knew that he should have left the house by this time. It was a dangerous time to be out on the streets and alleyways at dawn. The bright light, fierce and orange, made it hard to see the camouflaged barrels of guns and the dark green uniforms of British riflemen. He checked his pockets for any spare ammunition, bandages and anything else that might come in useful if a vengeful enemy was on the prowl. Emptied out onto the table, the pockets produced a piece of string, a couple of Irish punts, a small shiny paperclip, a chewed pencil and a piece of paper which a sketchy map had been scrawled on. He screwed the map up and threw it away. The other objects, he decided, were not of any use so he left them on the dresser next to the blank postcard. Harper took the thin rectangular card in his hand. The Irishman took one look at it and stashed it irritably into his pocket, so that he would not have to go through the torture of seeing it every morning. He would burn it later. A bunch of keys, all shapes and sizes, hung by the bedroom door. He plucked them from their resting-place, wanting to keep his hands and mind busy so as not to dwell on the bitterness inside of him. There was the front door key, the back door key, and the key to the small battered car of his that was collecting dust in the garage. There was also a group of strange shaped keys, their handle diamond shaped instead of the regular circular ones. They called up a distant memory in him, the faded pictures in his mind kept in rhythm with the metallic jangle of their knocking together. He still could not think what they were for, and so not wanting to annoy himself any longer he freed them from the main group and put those in his pocket too. Subconsciously he knew that he was taking them with him because they were connected with Allie's mortise lock, which she had put absolute faith in. It did not matter that their house had been burgled three times in a row, she still insisted that the rusty metal clump remain on the door. They had had their first argument over that lock and Allie had thrown a book at him, cutting his cheek and leaving a small scar. Harper had been the stock of jokes from the soldiers for a few weeks after that. He did not care. He was lucky. He had Allie. They were in it together. The mirror, from which he still had not moved, glittered in the light. It made his uniform look grey. His eyes were grey. His heart was grey. A shadow of his former personality. He was glad Aileen could not of seen him now. She wouldn't have even recognised him. ****** Blood pounded in his head, his breath rasped in his chest. The rifle on his back thumped on his spine, the metal foresight dug into his skin. It slipped into the hinge of his elbow with the rhythm of his feet, which slipped on the slushy cat-ice. Harper and Liam Kelly dived into the relative shelter of a brick corner. Bullets ricocheted, taking pieces of brick and dust off the wall. Hot air seared past their pulsing cheeks, tiny metal balls, so destructive, slapped into the pavement, inches away from their feet. The sergeant and the private loaded quickly, knowing every second the procedure took, minutes were stole from their lives. Instinct took over, the movements refined by practice and desperation. There was no time to think about what happened next; to the best fighters, it came as a second nature. Harper touched the familiar small island of unpolished metal, something to fight against the curse of bad luck. Kelly saw his friend feel the small dip in the rifle's butt, and he knew that the sergeant's keen mind was already at work. He had bruised his shoulder and had twisted his ankle on the sloppy slush, but that was all. He could see the pink in the snow, the pigment caused by the fresh blood of his comrade's. Worst of all was the sound of their screams, a sound that he had heard many times before, but now it seemed to have been magnified a hundredfold. Now Harper turned and worked his way around the wall again, giving space to the flickering bullets, Kelly supposed so as not to drive them nearer to the young fresh teenagers, who hid round the opposite corner. He stopped and looked at Kelly and then called out to him. ‘Stay there Liam. Don't move.' Then without any sign of fear, he walked towards the men in the green uniforms of British Riflemen. Kelly could see his lips moving, but he could not hear the words over the sharp, snapping retort of the rifles. Perhaps he was praying, or maybe not at all. He did not stop until he was right up to them and only then did they seem to register his tall looming presence. Liam saw him reach for a screaming horse's bridle and grip them hard. With a firm hand, ignoring the slapping bullets by his face, he pulled the bay mare off her hind legs. Then he slapped her hard on the rump and sent her away. Thus cheated of their game, the Rifleman turned their attention to the tall Irishman. The picture of what followed stayed with every man and women on the street till the day they died. And never would they know for sure what had happened. The platoon of green-jackets wheeled to their left, sending beautiful, crystal shards of snow and slush up into the air. For a moment they appeared not to know what to make of the man who stood undaunted before them. What was certain was that Harper could have walked away. Two or three steps to the side could have denied the British the glory of another Irish death. The Riflemen, so Kelly believed, would simply have let him be gone, where others had led. Instead, Harper stepped towards them. The moment he moved, as he must have foreseen, the Rifles snapped into action. And even now, Harper could have stepped away. He knew where the guns would fire, what was happening inside the mechanics of them and why, before it even knew itself. Yet on this day, he neither dodged nor ducked nor even flinched, and, once more, walked forward. Harper could hear Aileens voice calling out his name. ‘I'm here.' He whispered ‘What is it?' The group of green jackets raised the barrels, the light reflecting off the metal onto the snow. They licked their lips and they lined up the foresight onto the lone solitary target. At this distance they could not miss. The settling snow was still too thick for Kelly to be sure, but he thought he saw Harper open his hands a touch and, in a movement so flowing that he may of imagined it, showed the British his open palms. It was as though the Irishman was offering something and perhaps it was what he had always wanted to offer the gift of friendship and peace. But although he would never from this day forth mention the thought to anyone, Kelly had a vivid impression that it was otherwise and that Harper, without fear or despair, was somehow offering himself. ‘I'm here. What is it?' And then he knew. ******* They buried Patrick Harper by Aileen. The intention was to keep the funeral small and for family only, but on the day about one hundred people came, touched by the actions of the tall, handsome soldier in the white-sugared street. There was room for only a few in the small but ornate Catholic Church, so they threw open the doors and people watched from outside where cherry blossom danced and cartwheeled in the small breeze. He was found, lying there, a tiny smile on his face, motionless on the snowy carpet. It eyes were loosely shut as if he were sleeping peacefully. They typed this up on the army records of births and deaths. But there was one thing which they had not mentioned. Tucked away, from all sight were two claddagh rings. One gold and one silver. The Irish icon of friendship, love and loyalty. They were wrapped in a torn piece of paper, one side a list of food items and on the other side, scrawled blue ink pen which was in the handwriting of Aileen Harper. On the paper, all she'd written, inscribed in the ancient language of the Irish Celts were the small italic letters which made up four short words. In case you forget.

The History Behind the Invention of Gas Masks

The History Behind the Invention of Gas Masks Inventions that aid and protect the ability to breathe in the presence of gas, smoke or other poisonous fumes were being made before the first use of modern chemical weapons. Modern chemical warfare began on April 22, 1915, when German soldiers first used chlorine gas to attack the French in Ypres. But long before 1915, miners, firemen and underwater divers all had a need for helmets that could provide breathable air. Early prototypes for gas masks were developed to meet those needs. Early Fire Fighting and Diving Masks In 1823, brothers  John and Charles Deane patented a smoke protecting apparatus for firemen that was later modified for underwater divers. In 1819, Augustus Siebe marketed an early diving suit. Siebes suit included a helmet in which air was pumped via a tube to the helmet and spent air escaped from another tube. The inventor founded Siebe, Gorman, and Co to develop and manufacture respirators for a variety of purposes and was later instrumental in developing defense respirators. In 1849, Lewis P. Haslett patented an Inhaler or Lung Protector, the first U.S. patent (#6529) issued for an air purifying respirator. Hasletts device filtered dust from the air. In 1854, Scottish chemist John Stenhouse invented a simple mask that used charcoal to filter noxious gasses. In 1860, Frenchmen, Benoit Rouquayrol, and Auguste Denayrouze invented the Rà ©sevoir-Rà ©gulateur, which was intended for use in rescuing miners in flooded mines. The Rà ©sevoir-Rà ©gulateur could be used underwater. The device was made up of a nose clip and a mouthpiece attached to an air tank that the rescue worker carried on his back. In 1871, British physicist John Tyndall invented a firemans respirator that filtered air against smoke and gas. In 1874, British inventor  Samuel Barton patented a device that permitted respiration in places where the atmosphere is charged with noxious gasses, or vapors, smoke, or other impurities, according to U.S. patent #148868. Garrett Morgan American  Garrett Morgan patented the Morgan safety hood and smoke protector in 1914. Two years later, Morgan made national news when his gas mask was used to rescue 32 men trapped during an explosion in an underground tunnel 250 feet beneath Lake Erie. The publicity led to the sale of the safety hood to firehouses across the United States. Some historians cite the Morgan design as the basis for early U.S. army gas masks used during WWI. Early air filters include simple devices such as a soaked handkerchief held over the nose and mouth. Those devices evolved into various hoods worn over the head and soaked with protective chemicals. Goggles for the eyes and later filters drums were added. Carbon Monoxide Respirator The British built a carbon monoxide respirator for use during WWI  in 1915, before the first use of chemical gas weapons. It was then discovered that unexploded enemy shells gave off high enough levels of carbon monoxide to kill soldiers in the trenches, foxholes and other contained environments. This is similar to the dangers of the exhaust from a car with its engine turned on in an enclosed garage. Cluny Macpherson Canadian  Cluny Macpherson designed a fabric smoke helmet with a single exhaling tube that came with chemical sorbents to defeat the airborne chlorine used in the gas attacks. Macphersons designs were used and modified by allied forces and are considered the first to be used to protect against chemical weapons. British Small Box Respirator In 1916, the Germans added larger air filter drums containing gas neutralizing chemicals to their respirators. The allies soon added filter drums to their respirators as well. One of the most notable gas masks used during WWI was the British Small Box Respirator or SBR designed in 1916. The SBR was probably the most reliable and heavily used gas masks used during WWI.