#amherst gray

[wingedwolves]

Transitional Entry - Mudroom Entryway - mid-sized transitional laminate floor and gray floor entryway idea with gray walls and a white front door

[hxcgirl666]

Transitional Bedroom

[silly-tma-headcanons]

I have complicated opinions on the colors of Jon and Jonah's Extra Eyes(TM). I love having Jon's Eyes(TM) be green but since that color choice comes from the logo of the podcast, which is called The Magnus Archives, named after, y'know, Jonah Magnus and his Archives, part of me thinks that Jonah should be the one with green Eyes(TM). but I don't think both Jon and Jonah should have the same color extra Eyes(TM), and I really can't imagine Jon rocking anything other than green. I've read/seen fanworks where Jonah has red Eyes(TM) and while that makes for a good contrast I think "evil = red eyes" is a little overdone. Jonah's eyes are canonically gray so maybe he should have silver Eyes(TM)? that's kind of Athena-esque and pretty fitting, and if it's a black pupil on silver iris on black sclera that's a good contrast.

I dunno, Tl;DR get creative with the colors y'all are so talented and keep up the good work

I love the idea of jon having red eyes. i personally dont see the beholding as red or green but i do imagine jon having red eyes and jonah having either silver or green eyes. i love the reversal of the usual "green eyes = good character" and "red eyes = evil character" !!!!! i think jon having red eyes is completely against his will and he hates it, but jonah's eyes are an aesthetic choice. he swaps between green and silver and it's always depending on what goes better with his outfit of the day.

also you said get creative with colours and i have very strong opinions about asigning colours for the entities so here we go. i also think that these sort of ideas

beholding -> magenta. jonah hates it and gertrude decided on it because he hates it

buried -> brown. i think its one of the only ones i agree with most of the fandom on. karolina is a dark academia girly so its a good shade <3

corruption -> that visceral dark colour between yellow and green. cant describe it any better than that. john amherst likes it bc hes freaky like that, jordan cant stand it

dark -> black :3 callum always says it's neon highlighter coloured, but he is ignored

desolation -> pastel pink, as decided by a young agnes montague

end -> navy blue. originally, oliver liked a dark purple, but georgie has since decided he was wrong

extinction -> green

flesh -> yellow. jared fucking hates it and he has no clue why it's caught on

hunt -> purple!!! like a lavender, pastel purple. i think the decision was a group effort between daisy, melanie and tim

lonely -> grey. peter lukas is the most uncreative fucker and jonah thinks hes basic as shit

slaughter -> purple. melanie says so.

spiral -> orange !!! a mix between yellow and magenta, both chosen by michael and helen :)

stranger -> gold. nikola says red, but danny liked gold and that's how tim chooses to remember him sometimes

vast -> opal!!! like white with loads of reflective rainbow colours mixed in :3!!!!! simon thinks its cool as shit and, reluctantly, mike agrees

web -> green!!! i know we love green beholding here, but the webs on the podcast logo is green!!!!! the webs are green!!!!!!!! rip annabelle cane you wldve HATED purple web!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The angle of the dangle house. Look at this art piece- built in 2004 in Oberlin, Ohio. 2bds, 3ba, $950K.

Are you dizzy yet? Wow, I like the plants, though, it gets a lot of light. I wonder if they'll convery.

I like that double door.

I'm thinking that this is the main formal living room down here.

Oddly, the main living area is on the 2nd level.

The dining room is up here.

You can see that the dining room is over the 1st floor.

It's a very huge area.

Open concept family room and kitchen.

The kitchen is cool, though. I like the color and it has a retro vibe. Very large, too.

A spacious home office is up here, also.

Nice big shelf in the hallway.

Looks like the fixtures are pale gray in the 1/2 bath. That's cool. I like the sink.

The primary bedroom has a cool big en-suite.

There's a deck up here, too.

The 2nd bedroom has a nice built-in shelf unit.

And, its own en-suite.

Maybe this is what they mean by a flex-space? I don't know, but it could be rec room.

Wow, look at the size of the laundry room- love the color, and it could be a 2nd kitchen, too.

The rest of the basement isn't finished, but it has lots of potential.

3 car garage.

And, it's on a nice big 2 acre lot. I would buy this house.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/170-Pyle-South-Amherst-Rd-Oberlin-OH-44074/67326337_zpid/

[goatsludge]

Short and chunky

Gonna be giving the riflespeed gas system a run for its money on the 11.5" build; hopefully the last change I'll make to it at this point.

Overkill? Probably. I love solutions to hypothetical problems that don't exist. This is a setup that really could only work as a pistol - as of present, it comes in at a little over 8.5lbs unloaded and I could really make it a lot lighter if I wanted to, but it's still well within acceptable thresholds as it is.

I shamelessly copied a lot of Hoplopfheil's homework on this lol

UPPER: - Aero Precision M4 Upper w/o Forward Assist - Forward Controls Design 9.5" RHF4 Handguard - Ballistic Advantage Modern Series 11.5" 1:7 Carbine Length Barrel - Wolfpack Armor Night Howler Muzzle Device - Toolcraft Black Nitride BCG, 5.56 - PRI M84 Gasbuster Charging Handle w/ Badger Ordnance Gen.2 Latch

LOWER: - PSA Harrington & Richardson M16A1 Lower, Gray Anodized - VFC LSO Stowaway 2 Grip (Modified) - Intlmilco M16A2 Mil-Spec LPK, Grey Anodized Rigger Guard/Mag Release (the takedown pins are from an M&A LPK) - Amherst Military Depot Carbine Buffer Tube - SB Tactical SBA4 Pistol Brace - Okay Industries Surefeed USGI Mag

ACCESSORIES: - EOTech EXPS3-0 - Magpul MBUS Pro LR Rear Sight - Blue Force Gear Vickers Sling w/ BFG Rail Mounted Fixed Loop and QD Sling Swivel - Arisaka 600 Series Scout Light w/ Picatinny Side Scout Mount, Surefire DS00 Tailcap, and Surefire KM2-C Head - Steiner DBAL D2 w/ Railscales Leaf Front Sight Blade and Villain Weapon Systems Diffuser Cap - Surefire SR07-D-IT Dual Pressure Pad - P&S Stubby Broomhandle

Only other addition I really have planned at this point is a suppressor, obviously cause this thing's probably gonna be LOUD.

[johnthestitcher]

Taken at Joey's Diner, Amherst, NH - no idea when! I have only a touch of gray on my chin, so I'd say summer 2008.

[rj-drive-in]

Moth To The Flame Department:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep....

THE CAMPFIRE © 2024 by Rick Hutchins

In the darkest hour of the endless night, in the deepest tract of the primeval forest, under a black and moonless sky sprinkled only faintly with cold stars, the campfire was a warm and yellow beacon.

It was visible for miles and Sumalee had been stumbling toward it for hours through the thick and pathless underbrush. Her face and arms were scratched from the branches, her legs bruised black and blue from the rocks and fallen trees. She trembled and shook violently from hunger and nervous exhaustion as she struggled through the thickets. She had been separated from her friends since before sunset.

“Get me out of here, please, get me out of here,” she cried huskily, despair mixing with frustration and anger. “I am so fucking sick of this shit. I just want to go home!”

Hiking in the Berkshires with her new friends from the physics lab had seemed like such a great idea. Amherst had totally changed her life. It seemed like every day brought her the opportunity to do something she had never done before. What had gone wrong? How had she gotten separated from the other kids? She didn’t even know.

The campfire was close now; it seemed like it was just a few feet away. She ducked under a low-hanging branch, pushed through bramble bushes that tore divots out of her jeans and sweatshirt. A clearing became visible, painted in flickering yellow light and dancing shadows.

“Come on,” she sobbed. “Oh, come on….”

As she got nearer, she could make out steadier shadows blocking the firelight. Three of them. Silhouettes of people sitting around the fire.

“Thank god,” she said. “Help me, please, help me.” But her voice was too dry, thin and husky to be heard, a dehydrated whisper.

Finally, she broke through the edge of the forest and stumbled into the clearing, dropping to her knees, sobbing. These people would have water, food, a map, a cell phone. She could already feel the warmth of the campfire against her cold and clammy skin.

“I need some help here,” she shouted hoarsely, crying and trembling on hands and knees.

After a few moments, she realized that nobody was rushing to her aid. She looked up, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her dirty hand. Three people, dressed warmly against the night chill, sat on logs arranged around the campfire. They were as still and silent as statues.

“Excuse me…?”

Confusion flickered through her mind. Were they meditating? Praying? Had she stumbled onto some bizarre religious camp or outing? These questions were followed by even more disturbing thoughts of cults, inbred backwoods families and cannibal bikers flashing through the back of her head.

Slowly, cautiously, she rose to her feet.

“Hello…?”

She stepped hesitantly forward, hugging herself, tiptoeing, as if afraid to wake these people from their slumber. The grass and leaves beneath her hiking boots were dry and brittle and crunched softly in harmony with the brisk crackling of the campfire.

Four logs had been set up in a circle around the campfire as benches. Two of the people, in heavy plaid coats-- a middle-aged man and woman by the look of them-- sat side by side with their backs to Sumalee. The third person sat alone on the other side of the fire, head down, dressed in a dungaree jacket over a bulky black sweatshirt and wearing a dark blue knit stocking cap.

The fire threw off a lot of heat; they didn’t need to be dressed so warmly.

Sumalee stepped up to the edge of the circle of logs and still nobody moved. But from this distance she had a better view of the face of the man on the other side of the campfire, and he looked like hell. Like death warmed over, thought Sumalee. Literally.

His skin was as gray and cracked as a dry old newspaper, his cheeks and eye sockets sunken and hollow. She realized that, under his bulky clothes, he was as emaciated as an ancient Egyptian mummy.

Now she realized what was going on, and she put her hand to her mouth as a wave of pity ran through her. These people were patients from that cancer clinic in Farmington; part of their holistic therapy included camping retreats, reconnecting with nature.

She took another step closer. “I’m sorry,” she said, both for the intrusion and the terrible….

And then she saw the human bones.

A chill of horror raced up her spine and curdled her stomach, and she swayed with vertigo. She wanted to step backward, turn and run back into the woods, but she was rooted to the spot.

Scattered on the ground, both inside and outside the circle of logs, were ribs, femurs, vertebrae, pelvises. Skulls. Tattered shreds of clothing, rotten and dirty, lay among them. Some of the bones were black and cracked with age, mingled with the dirt and grass; some were gray and smooth, only recently picked clean.

“Holy fuck,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Holy fucking shit. Oh my fucking god.”

She put her hands to her face, like in the Munch painting, the blood pounding dizzily in her temples, and she felt on the verge of passing out. Her eyes, wide and white, scanned back and forth over the bones, the logs, the stone-circled campfire, the pitiful sitting figures. Did that clinic just leave them here to die? Was this some horrible scandal that she had stumbled upon, some cost-saving measure, some inhuman disposal of the homeless, the unwanted, or the uninsured?

Then, as her eyes once again fell upon the wizened man in the stocking cap, he seemed to fold into himself; turning, twisting, he slowly toppled to the side and struck the ground with a limp thud, slack and dead.

“Oh, no,” sobbed Sumalee, tears bursting from her eyes. “Oh my god….”

But still she didn’t run; instead, she stumbled forward on shaking knees and sat down unsteadily on one of the logs. What the fuck am I doing? she thought. I have to get the fuck out of here.

If this was some horrid human disposal ground where the hopeless were left to rot and die, she could be in immediate danger. If they came back while she was here, what would they do? Kill her? Imprison her? They couldn’t just let her go and tell what she had seen.

As soon as she steadied herself, as soon as she could stop her legs from shaking, she had to get up and go. There had to be a road nearby for the clinic to use to bring these patients up here. She could follow that to find the way back to civilization. As soon as she felt steady. But the woods were cold and dark, and the firelight was warm against her face….

The campfire! Holy shit! They wouldn’t just go away and leave the campfire burning like this. They had to be right nearby. They could return at any second, find her here, catch her.

But still she didn’t move.

I’m in shock, she realized with sudden dispassionate insight. Fear, exhaustion, exposure, hunger, dehydration-- and now this horror. Definitely shock, no doubt about it. Good god, this was a nightmare; anybody would have a breakdown.

And still she didn’t move.

There was something odd about the campfire, Sumalee thought as she watched it burn steadily, serenely, hypnotically. Something odd about the texture, the edges, something strange about the way it overlapped the circle of stones.

And why would the clinic dress up their patients in hiking clothes to dump them here? These weren’t patients. These were people who had wandered into the clearing, just as she had.

Something odd about the campfire, she thought, staring at it intently.

She looked across the fire at the other two people sitting on the log. A man and a woman, their hair wispy gray, sitting shoulder to shoulder, the fingers of his right and her left hand intertwined. They wore matching red plaid jackets and brown hats with ear flaps. They had been elderly in life, an old married couple. Now they were gray, shriveled, parchment-skinned mummies.

Staring at the fire.

And still she didn’t move.

Sumalee realized at that moment that the campfire was never going to let her go. It was keeping her here, feeding on her, eating her from the inside out, just as it had done with these people who were now just dry dead bones. It had lured them in with its friendly yellow glow, promising warmth and protection and companionship and it had never let them go.

What the fuck was it? She stared at it as it flickered and danced and crackled, rose and fell, sent glowing orange embers floating up to fade in the cool night air, and tried to penetrate its strangeness. It looked like a normal fire and yet-- animated. Self contained. Fluid. Smeared at the edges like something in a bad old videotape.

Was it some vampiric energy being from outer space that feeds on life energy, like on Star Trek? Maybe that was it. Maybe it was some clump of exotic particles that had gotten caught in Earth’s gravity well, some quark-gluon soup or packet of strange dark matter that was incompatible with the standard variety and wreaked havoc with cell activity, like a sunspot causing radio static.

Sure, thought Sumalee sardonically. My first month in the physics lab and I just happen to wander into the woods and stumble on an unpredicted physical phenomenon that fell to Earth. Not too much of a coincidence.

Maybe it was just fucking haunted.

Somehow she had to free herself, get away from this thing before it killed her. But she didn’t know where to begin. There was no force holding her, no compulsion to stay, no voice in her head telling her what to do.

She just wasn’t getting up.

Panic began to rise and she fought it back down. It will be all right, she told herself. It will be all right. Kim and Jerry and Maureen were still out there looking for her and they had probably gotten help by now and any minute they would pile out of the woods and grab her and drag her to safety and the campfire would die and the credits would roll.

She began to cry.

Closing her eyes might help, she reasoned; if she couldn’t see the fire, or whatever it was, it couldn’t affect her. But its erratic, gentle rhythms could still be seen through her eyelids, red instead of yellow, outlining a delicate pattern of blue veins. The pulse of the firelight and the pulse of her blood combined to create swirls of phosphenes, like splashes of bright paint, like galaxies and nebulae exploding in the dark, like fireworks, beautiful fireworks.

She had seen the fireworks at the Esplanade in Boston a couple of years ago with her mother and father and brother and her best friend Nicole. Her father had let Nicole come with them and had even let the girls have their own room at the hotel in Braintree. She and Nicole had ordered chicken strips and French fries from room service and her father had been furious; room service was expensive and he had already spent too much. He had yelled at her and she had yelled back, but she had been sorry and mad at herself. She hadn’t meant to cause him any problems, hadn’t meant to upset him after he had been so generous; she had never told him how sorry she was.

Sumalee opened her eyes. Time had passed, but she didn’t know how much.

The bodies of the old couple had fallen over backwards. She could only see their baggy trousers, tucked into their hiking boots, hooked over the log where they had sat.

Everything seemed muted and quiet, colors were dim and washed out, sounds were distant and hollow. She didn’t want to die, but she knew she was already more dead than alive. Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked and her throat constricted; she didn’t have the strength to swallow. She could barely feel the heat from the campfire on her face.

I’m sorry I ordered the chicken strips, Daddy, she thought calmly. I’m sorry I’m dead. I know you would save me if you could.

Eventually, she slumped forward onto the ground, face down in the bones.

And the campfire continued to burn, and its brittle crackling sounded like cruel laughter.

[goalhofer]

2024 Texas Rangers Roster

Pitchers

#17 Nathan Eovaldi (Alvin, Texas)

#22 Jon Gray (Chandler, Oklahoma)

#23 Michael Lorenzen (Fullerton, California)*

#25 José Leclerc (Esperanza, Dominican Republic)

#31 Max Scherzer (Chesterfield, Missouri)

#33 Dane Dunning (Green Cove Springs, Florida)

#37 David Robertson (Tuscaloosa, Alabama)*

#39 Kirby Yates (Kauai County, Hawaii)*

#44 Andrew Heaney (Warr Acres, Oklahoma)

#46 Brock Burke (Jefferson County, Colorado)

#48 Jacob DeGrom (Ormond Beach, Florida)

#51 Tyler Mahle (Westminster, California)*

#54 José Ureña (Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic)

#57 Yerry Rodríguez (Santiago De Los Caballeros, Dom Rep)

#61 Cody Bradford (Aledo, Texas)

#65 Grant Anderson (West Orange, Texas)

#66 Josh Sborz (Fairfax County, Virginia)

#67 Jacob Latz (Lemont Township, Illinois)

#72 Jonathan Hernández (Memphis, Tennessee)

#84 Carson Coleman (Lexington, Kentucky)**

Catchers

#12 Andrew Knizner (Hanover County, Virginia)*

#28 Jonah Heim (Amherst, New York)

Infielders

#2 Marcus Semien (El Cerrito, California)

#5 Corey Seager (Kannapolis, North Carolina)

#6 Josh Jung (San Antonio, Texas)

#8 Josh Smith (Baton Rouge, Louisiana)

#20 Ezequiel Durán (San Juan De La Maguana, Dominican Republic)

#21 Jared Walsh (Suwanee, Georgia)*

#30 David Lowe; Jr. (Marietta, Georgia)

#38 Davis Wendzel (San Juan Capistrano, California)**

#56 Justin Foscue (Huntsville, Alabama)**

Outfielders

#3 Leody Taveras (Tenares, Dominican Republic)

#16 Travis Jankowski (Lancaster, Pennsylvania)

#32 Evan Carter (Elizabethton, Tennessee)

#36 Wyatt Langford (Trenton, Florida)**

#53 José García (Ciudad Ciego De Ávila, Cuba)

Coaches

Manager Bruce Bochy (Melbourne, Florida)

Bench coach Donnie Ecker (Los Altos, California)

Hitting coach Tim Hyers (Covington, Georgia)

Assistant hitting coach Seth Conner (Rogersville, Missouri)

Pitching coach Mike Maddux (Las Vegas, Nevada)

Bullpen coach Brett Hayes (Los Angeles, California)

Catching coach Bobby Wilson (Dunedin, Florida)

1B coach William Ragsdale (Jonesboro, Arkansas)

3B coach Tony Beasley (Fredericksburg, Virginia)

Assistant coach Will Venable (San Rafael, California)

[countyflagchampionship]

On to Round 2!

This is a wrap-up of the current standings. Polls for round 2 will be published starting this Saturday (12/16).

Congratulations to all the counties that progressed!

The state that is standing the strongest is New York, with 39 counties progressing to round 2! Albany, Allegany, Allegany, Broome, Cattaraugus, Chautauqua, Chemung, Chenango, Clinton, Columbia, Delaware, Franklin, Greene, Hamilton, Jefferson, Kings, Livingston, Nassau, New York, Niagara, Oneida, Orange, Otsego, Putnam, Rensselaer, Richmond, Rockland, Saint Lawrence, Saratoga, Schuyler, Steuben, Suffolk, Sullivan, Ulster, Warren, Washington, Wayne, Westchester, and Wyoming.

Next most powerful state is Virginia, which has 36 winning counties. Alleghany, Alleghany, Amherst, Augusta, Bedford, Brunswick, Caroline, Carroll, Charlotte, Chesterfield, Fairfax, Fauquier, Fluvanna, Gloucester, Goochland, Grayson, Halifax, Isle of Wight, James City, King and Queen, King George, King William, Lee, Louisa, Montgomery, Patrick, Pittsylvania, Prince Edward, Pulaski, Rockingham, Scott, Smyth, Southampton, Tazewell, Warren, and Wise.

Ohio is also standing strong with 27 advancing counties. Brown, Butler, Columbiana, Coshocton, Crawford, Defiance, Erie, Fulton, Geauga, Holmes, Jackson, Lake, Lawrence, Licking, Madison, Mahoning, Medina, Mercer, Monroe, Muskingum, Perry, Pickaway, Ross, Scioto, Seneca, Trumbull, and Van Wert.

North Carolina is up next with a solid 24 wins. Beaufort, Cabarrus, Caldwell, Camden, Carteret, Craven, Currituck, Granville, Harnett, Henderson, Hoke, Jackson, Johnson, Lenoir, Lincoln, Macon, Madison, Mecklenburg, Northampton, Onslow, Person, Robeson, Tyrrell, and Wake.

Only 1 more state has over 20 counties that made won their match-ups and that's my wonderful Washington. Adams, Asotin, Chelan, Clallam, Cowlitz, Ferry, Garfield, Grant, Grays Harbor, King, Kitsap, Kittitas, Klickitat, Lewis, Pacific, Pend Oreille, Skagit, Snohomish, Thurston, Walla Walla, Whatcom, Whitman, Yakima. Stay strong my soldiers.

A much higher number of states are comfortably in the middle of the pack. They are as follows:

Texas: 19 counties. Bosque, Collin, Dallas, Denton, Fort Bend, Goliad, Hockley, Jones, Lipscomb, Live Oak, Llano, McMullen, Milam, Ochiltree, Orange, Panola, Parker, San Patricio, and Travis.

California: 17 counties. Amador, Calaveras, El Dorado, Imperial, Lake, Mariposa, Monterey, Orange, San Benito, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Santa Clara, Santa Cruz, Solano, Tulare, Tuolumne, and Yolo.

Pennsylvania: 16 counties. Allegheny, Blair, Butler, Carbon, Dauphin, Franklin, Greene, Jefferson, Lancaster, Lycoming, Mifflin, Montgomery, Perry, Potter, Venango, and York.

Tennessee: 15 counties. Blount, Campbell, Carter, Cumberland, Hardin, Houston, Johnson, Knox, Madison, Maury, McNairy, Obion, Union, Williamson, and Wilson.

Nebraska: 13 counties. Adams, Buffalo, Cass, Cherry, Dakota, Keith, Knox, Nuckolls, Platte, Saunders, Stanton, Thayer, and Webster.

Nevada: 13 counties. Churchill, Clark, Douglas, Esmeralda, Eureka, Lander, Lincoln, Lyon, Mineral, Pershing, Storey, Washoe, and White Pine.

Illinois: 12 counties. Cook, DeKalb, Franklin, Jasper, Kane, Marion, McDonough, McHenry, Morgan, Peoria, St Clair, and Winnebago.

Maryland: 12 counties. Anne Arundel, Calvert, Carroll, Cecil, Dorchester, Frederick, Montgomery, Prince George’s, Queen Anne’s, Talbot, Washington, and Worcester.

Michigan: 12 counties. Barry, Berrien, Clinton, Genesee, Gogebic, Kalamazoo, Lake, Oceana, Ottawa, Rocommon, Sanilac, and Wexford.

Iowa: 11 counties. Dickinson, Fayette, Hancock, Hardin, Henry, Humboldt, Jefferson, Jones, Polk, Pottawattamie, and Wright.

Louisiana: 11 parishes. Ascension, Bossier, Cameron, Catahoula, Concordia, Jefferson, Lincoln, Natchitoches, St Bernard, St James, and St Tammany.

New Jersey: 11 counties. Bergen, Cumberland, Essex, Middlesex, Morris, Passaic, Salem, Somerset, Sussex, Union, and Warren.

Kentucky: 10 counties. Boone, Boyle, Breckinridge, Daviess, Leslie, Logan, Pike, Shelby, Trimble, Woodford.

Many of these poor cute states are barely hanging on. Please wish them luck.

Florida: 8 counties. Alachua, Bay, Miami-Dade, Monroe, Okaloosa, Osceola, Palm Beach, and St Johns.

New Mexico: 8 counties. Colfax, Curry, Doña Ana, Lincoln, Mora, Otero, Roosevelt, and Socorro.

Georgia: 6 counties. Bartow, Cherokee, Floyd, Fulton, Pierce, and Rockdale.

Indiana: 6 counties. Benton, Elkhart, Jennings, Marion, Marshall, and Starke.

Minnesota: 6 counties. Aitkin, Clearwater, Hennepin, Hubbard, McLeod, and Pipestone.

Wisconsin: 6 counties. Calumet, Fond du Lac, Osaukee, Portage, Racine, and Sheboygan.

Wyoming: 6 counties. Big Horn, Converse, Lincoln, Natrona, Park, and Teton.

Missouri: 5 counties. Clay, Gentry, Greene, Newton, and St Louis.

South Carolina: 5 counties. Anderson, Calhoun, Dillon, Dorchester, and Lexington.

Utah: 5 counties. Beaver, Summit, Utah, Washington, and Wayne.

Alaska: 4 boroughs. Anchorage, Juneau, Matanuska-Susitna, and Wrangell.

Arkansas: 4 counties. Cross, Searcy, Washington, and White.

Colorado: 4 counties. Douglas, El Paso, Fremont, and La Plata.

Oklahoma: 4 counties. Bryan, Payne, Rogers, and Washington.

West Virginia: 4 counties. Fayette, Marion, Monongalia, and Roane.

Alabama: 3 counties. Bullock, Cleburne, and Mobile.

Arizona: 3 counties. Coconino, Maricopa, and Yavapai.

Maine: 3 counties. Androscoggin, Hancock, and Washington.

Idaho: 2 counties. Bannock and Bonner.

Kansas: 2 counties. Atchinson and Johnson.

Massachusetts: 2 counties. Barnstable and Berkshire.

Montana: 2 counties. Gallatin and Silver Bow.

North Dakota: 2 counties. Benson and LaMoure.

Some states only have 1 county that progressed. They are: Delaware (Kent County), Hawaii (Maui County), Mississippi (Adams County), New Hampshire (Hillsborough County), Oregon (Linn County), and South Dakota (Bennet County).

```

In addition to all the winning counties above, there will be 83 new county flags folded into round 2!!! (Because of math reasoning this had to happen) Get hyped

They are as follows:

Alexander NC, Allen OH, Alpena MI, Alpena MI, Alpine CA, Arapahoe CO, Ashe NC, Avery NC, Baldwin AL, Baltimore MD, Bell KY, Benzie MI, Bernalillo NM, Black Hawk IA, Brevard FL, Camden NJ, Campbell WY, Canyon ID, Centre PA, Charles City VA, Cheatham TN, Chester PA, Clark WA, Clarke VA, Cleveland OK, Cochise AZ, Columbus NC, Coweta GA, Darke OH, Davidson NC, Elko NV, Erie PA, Florence SC, Garrett MD, Goshen WY, Greene VA, Grundy IL, Gwinnett GA, Hidalgo TX, Highland OH, Hocking OH, Holt NE, Hot Springs WY, Howard MD, Huntingdon PA, Ingham MI, Island WA, Kankakee IL, Lackawanna PA, Lawrence PA, Leelanau MI, Lehigh PA, Leon FL, Liberty TX, Lucas OH, Madera CA, Mahaska IA, Manitowoc WI, McLennan TX, Meigs OH, Milwaukee WI, Nashville and Davidson TN, Northumberland VA, Orleans NY, Page VA, Porter IN, Sacramento CA, Salt Lake UT, San Diego CA, Sangamon IL, Sevier TN, Shelby TN, Skamania WA, Spotsylvania VA, Stafford VA, Sussex VA, Terrell TX, Trinity CA, Tulsa OK, Tuscarawas OH, Ventura CA, Wahkiakum WA, Yuma AZ

[444namesplus]

1* 2.6.2. 3 3B2 5.0i 5.1 5.53 7 15kg 17 20 22nd 26 50BMG 51 69 97 312 411 414 707 737 747 757 767 777 868 888 1071 1080H 1911 1984 1997 2600 3848 8182 $ & ^ ^? a ABC ACC Active ADIU advise advisors afsatcom AFSPC AHPCRC AIEWS AIMSX Aladdin Alica Alouette AMEMB Amherst AMW anarchy ANC Anonymous AOL ARC Archives Area51 argus Armani ARPA Artichoke ASIO ASIS ASLET assasinate Asset AT AT&T Atlas Audiotel Austin AVN b b9 B.D.M. Badger bank basement BATF BBE BECCA Becker beef Bess bet Beyond BfV BITNET black-bag Black-Ops Blackbird Blacklisted Blackmednet Blacknet Bletchley Blowfish Blowpipe BMDO BND Bob BOP BOSS botux BRLO Broadside Bubba bullion BVD BZ c Cable CANSLO Cap-Stun Capricorn card Case CATO CBM CBNRC CBOT CCC CCS CDA CDC CdC cdi Cell CESID CFC chaining chameleon Chan Chelsea Chicago Chobetsu chosen CIA CID CIDA CIM CIO CIS CISE Clandestine Class clone cocaine COCOT Coderpunks codes Cohiba Colonel Comirex Competitor Compsec Computer Connections Consul Consulting CONUS Cornflower Corporate Corporation COS COSMOS Counter counterintelligence Counterterrorism Covert Cowboy CQB CRA credit cryptanalysis crypto-anarchy CSE csystems CTP CTU CUD cybercash Cypherpunks d D-11 Daisy Data data data-haven DATTA DCJFTF Dead DEADBEEF debugging DefCon Defcon Defense Defensive Delta DERA DES DEVGRP DF DIA Dictionary Digicash disruption

DITSA DJC DOE Dolch domestic Domination DRA DREC DREO DSD DSS Duress DynCorp E911 e-cash E.O.D. E.T. EADA eavesdropping Echelon EDI EG&G Egret Electronic ELF Elvis Embassy Encryption encryption enigma EO EOD ESN Espionage espionage ETA eternity EUB Evaluation Event executive Exon explicit Face fangs Fax FBI FBIS FCIC FDM Fetish FINCEN finks Firewalls FIS fish fissionable FKS FLAME Flame Flashbangs FLETC Flintlock FLiR Flu FMS Force force Fort Forte fraud freedom Freeh froglegs FSB Ft. FX FXR Gamma Gap garbage Gates Gatt GCHQ GEO GEODSS GEOS Geraldton GGL GIGN Gist Global Glock GOE Goodwin Gorelick gorilla Gorizont government GPMG Gray grom Grove GRU GSA GSG-9 GSS gun Guppy H&K H.N.P. Hackers HAHO Halcon Halibut HALO Harvard hate havens HIC High Hillal HoHoCon Hollyhock Hope House HPCC HRT HTCIA humint Hutsul IACIS IB ICE ID IDEA IDF IDP illuminati imagery IMF Indigo industrial Information INFOSEC InfoSec Infowar Infrastructure Ingram INR INS Intelligence intelligence interception Internet Intiso Investigation Ionosphere IRIDF Iris IRS IS ISA ISACA ISI ISN ISS IW jack JANET Jasmine JAVA JICC jihad JITEM Juile Juiliett Keyhole keywords Kh-11 Kilderkin Kilo Kiwi KLM l0ck LABLINK Lacrosse Lebed LEETAC Leitrim Lexis-Nexis LF LLC loch lock Locks Loin Love LRTS LUK Lynch M5 M72750 M-14 M.P.R.I. Mac-10 Mace Macintosh Magazine mailbomb man Mantis market Masuda Mavricks Mayfly MCI MD2 MD4 MD5 MDA Meade Medco mega Menwith Merlin Meta-hackers MF MI5 MI6 MI-17 Middleman Military Minox MIT MITM MOD MOIS mol Mole Morwenstow Mossberg MP5k MP5K-SD MSCJ MSEE MSNBC MSW MYK NACSI NATIA National NATOA NAVWAN NAVWCWPNS NB NCCS NCSA Nerd News niche NIJ Nike NIMA ninja nitrate nkvd NOCS noise NORAD NRC NRL NRO NSA NSCT NSG NSP NSWC NTIS NTT Nuclear nuclear NVD OAU Offensive Oratory Ortega orthodox Oscor OSS OTP package Panama Park passwd Passwords Patel PBX PCS Peering PEM penrep Perl-RSA PFS PGP Phon-e phones PI picking

Pine pink Pixar PLA Planet-1 Platform Playboy plutonium POCSAG Police Porno Pornstars Posse PPP PPS president press-release Pretoria Priavacy primacord PRIME Propaganda Protection PSAC Pseudonyms Psyops PTT quiche r00t racal RAID rail Rand Rapid RCMP Reaction rebels Recce Red redheads Reflection remailers ReMOB Reno replay Retinal RFI rhost rhosts RIT RL rogue Rolm Ronco Roswell RSA RSP RUOP RX-7 S.A.I.C. S.E.T. S/Key SABC SACLANT SADF SADMS Salsa SAP SAR Sardine sardine SAS SASP SASR Satellite SBI SBIRS SBS SCIF screws Scully SDI SEAL Sears Secert secret Secure secure Security SEL SEMTEX SERT server Service SETA Sex SGC SGDN SGI SHA SHAPE Shayet-13 Shell shell SHF SIG SIGDASYS SIGDEV sigvoice siliconpimp SIN SIRC SISDE SISMI Skytel SL-1 SLI SLIP smuggle sneakers sniper snuffle SONANGOL SORO Soros SORT Speakeasy speedbump Spetznaz Sphinx spies Spoke Sponge spook Spyderco squib SRI ssa SSCI SSL stakeout Standford STARLAN Stego STEP Stephanie Steve Submarine subversives Sugar SUKLO SUN Sundevil supercomputer Surveillance SURVIAC SUSLO SVR SWAT sweep sweeping SWS Talent TDM. TDR TDYC Team Telex TELINT Templeton TEMPSET Terrorism Texas TEXTA. THAAD the Ti TIE Tie-fighter Time toad Tools top TOS Tower transfer TRD Trump TRW TSCI TSCM TUSA TWA UDT UHF UKUSA unclassified UNCPCJ Undercover Underground Unix unix UOP USACIL USAFA USCG USCODE USCOI USDOJ USP USSS UT/RUS utopia UTU UXO Uzi V veggie Verisign VHF Video Vinnell VIP Virii virtual virus VLSI VNET W3 Wackendude Wackenhutt Waihopai WANK Warfare Weekly White white Whitewater William WINGS wire Wireless words World WORM X XS4ALL Yakima Yobie York Yukon Zen zip zone ~

[emilydickinsonshistory]

Otis Phillips Lord, Edward Dickinson’s old friend and a judge on the Massachusetts supreme court, had studied law at Amherst just before Emily was born and during the first 18 months of her life. He had graduated in 1832, and Amherst had conferred on him an honorary doctor of laws in 1869. He was married to Elizabeth Farley, a high-minded descendant of John Leverett, president of Harvard. They were childless and lived near the Witch House in Salem. The Lords used to stay at the Homestead, and after Edward died, “the dear Lords,” as Emily wrote, continued to visit. The judge appears to have come on his own for a week in October 1875, when Emily, far from reclusive, spoke of his visit as being “with me.” Mrs. Lord died in December 1877, on Emily’s 47th birthday. Over the next few months, Emily turned to the handsome widower – not as a father but as a suitor of sorts. Later, a granddaughter of Dickinson’s confidante Elizabeth Holland suggested that Lord’s tenderness had “long been latent in his feeling for her.” Dickinson expert and Mount Holyoke College professor Christopher Benfey has asserted this possibility more strongly, suggesting in his book A Summer of Hummingbirds that the attraction went back to the summer of 1862, when Lord came to Amherst as commencement speaker. Eighteen years her senior, his gray hair was shading into white; his expression calm and contained – not a man to exact attention, though his grave and upright bearing subdued others, not only the guilty, as he passed judgment. Lord looked stern “as the Profile of a Tree against a winter sky,” Emily ventured to say. He appeared as rigid as Emily’s father, but she had a way with elders of this sort, breezing through their barest branches. Her amusing darts disarmed men of law who were accustomed to wither lesser beings; the drafts of her letters to Lord are witty, confident, open, and playfully physical – hardly the way modest women were meant to behave. Gossip had it that Emily’s sister-in-law, Susan, had been taken aback to break in on the supposed recluse, the image of white-frocked chastity, in the judge’s arms. Lord’s niece Abbie Farley claimed to have heard Susan deplore that embrace. Emily, the niece is reported to have said, had not “any idea of morality.” She was bound to take this view, for Miss Farley, aged 35, was the judge’s heir. She and her mother, Mrs. Lord’s sister, were due to inherit jointly $23,000. Together with another niece on the Farley side (due to inherit $10,000), they kept house for the judge. If he remarried, he would have new claims. “Little hussy,” Abbie fumed over a copy of Emily’s Poems decades later when questioned about the celebrated poet Abbie had once known. “Loose morals,” Abbie remembered. “She was crazy about men. Even tried to get Judge Lord. Insane too.” To Emily herself, Lord’s love was “Improbable.” It would have been unthinkable in her father’s lifetime: his carefully protected daughter permitting such license, and with his old friend. The voice of judgment, “I say unto you” thundering through the startled air at morning prayers, had cleansed impurities from the minds of Edward Dickinson’s listeners. As Emily put it humorously, “Fumigation ceased when Father died.” Now, four years on, that voice no longer ruled. In her late 40s and early 50s, she found herself free to partake of the forbidden tree. With Lord, Emily was unafraid to speak up, inviting a glint of humor she called “the Judge Lord brand.” A smile broke when she teased him with the solemnities of courtroom language. “Crime,” “confess,” “punish,” “penalty,” “incarcerate” were the words she applied to his supposed trial of her as a wanting lover. “I confess that I love him,” she has to admit, but cannot pay the “debt” she owes him. Can her “involuntary Bankruptcy” be a crime? Will he “punish” her? “Incarcerate me in yourself – that will punish me,” she makes bold to suggest. Flashing repartee of this sort exploded into intimacy within months of Mrs. Lord’s death. That year, 1878, there’s immediate talk of consummation. She wasn’t shy when she drafted her letters to Lord: “lift me back, wont you, for only there [in your arms] I ask to be. . . .” He was her “lovely Salem”; she, his “Amherst.” Weekly letters, directed to arrive on Mondays by the judge’s habits of punctuality, bonded Salem and Amherst. Emily’s “little devices to live till Monday” – attempts to concentrate on work – gave way to “the thought of you.” So she said to herself, if not to Salem, in a penciled scrap that breaks into verse celebrating the nature of love (fleet, indiscreet, wrong, and joyful). As a single man, it was no longer proper for Lord to stay at the Homestead on his now more frequent trips to Amherst; he and Emily met in the parlor. There, they held each other while the air about them fanned the question of marriage. In August and September of 1880, he practically lived in Amherst. During this time, they may have entered into some kind of private engagement. Softly, her thin hand is offered to him in response to what she calls “your distant hope.” He leaves saying it had been a “heavenly hour.” How sweet was his candor, she wrote. His racy talk, familiar to colleagues on the bench, called out an unfamiliar side to Emily. “I will not wash my arm,” she said, “twill take your touch away,” and again: “It is strange that I miss you at night so much when I was never with you – but the punctual love invokes you soon as my eyes are shut – and I wake warm with the want sleep had almost filled. . .” The question of marriage came up more seriously in November and December 1882, after Emily’s mother, also named Emily, had died. Eyeing the poet’s thinness, Lord teased her as “Emily Jumbo” (the famous elephant, Jumbo, in Barnum’s circus had recently appeared near Amherst). She tossed the joke back. “Sweetest name, but I know a sweeter – Emily Jumbo Lord. Have I your approval?” He assumed that she was now freed to live with him. He replied, “I will try not to make it unpleasant.” She was touched that he could invite her into his “dear Home” with “loved timidity.” Her answer, as often when she was moved, almost falls into verse. “So delicate a diffidence, how beautiful to see! I do not think a Girl extant has so divine a modesty. You even call me to your Breast with apology! Of what must my poor Heart be made?”

 Lyndall Gordan, Lives Like Loaded Guns: Emily Dickinson and Her Family’s Feuds, excerpted from a reprint in The Boston Globe

[medici-collar]

Culture: American

Title: wedding dress

Date Made: 1869

Type: Clothing

Materials: textile: gray plain weave silk

Place Made: United States; Massachusetts; North Amherst area

Description:

Grey silk wedding dress worn by Ella Marie Dutton of North Amherst, Massachusetts on her marriage to Arthur W. Hall of Rowe, Massachusetts, on December 31, 1869. The couple was married by the Reverend William D. Herrick, pastor of the North Congregational Church of North Amherst.

[supercunninglinguist]

A month ago today, my cat Billy passed on. I keep putting writing this off because there was just so much to do for spring and summer now that my father is in the hospital. Their house still feels a little empty without the dog and the cat. Just one cat left now, Casper. Click the read-more if you want to see photos of him and some of our other pets.

Billy first came to their house when I was visiting Amherst to find housing and to meet my grandmother, Summer 2010. My parents told our neighbour that we had 1 gray cat - named Smoky - and she called me and said that now we have 2 gray cats. When we got back, we searched the backyard for him for a while without success until finally he came out of a rosebush - maybe he was napping - and immediately ran up to my mother, meowing for attention. My mother thought he was so cute. We weren't sure if he was a stray or abandoned, and he had no collar but looked healthy. I checked him for fleas before letting him follow us inside, and he just let me comb him over until he got bored and ran in. My father thought that he was about 10 months old, probably left behind by someone living in a nearby street. I moved to Amherst a month later, so I didn't spend a lot of time with him until more recent years.

This is the earliest photo I have of him, from 2012.

I miss that orange cat, Chester, a lot too. Billy and Chester mostly got along. Chester was already around 10 or 11 when Billy started living here. Chester was well-behaved and a badass adventurous alpha cat, so Billy definitely learned some of Chester's better behaviours over the 5 years that they lived in the house together, including staying out on the porch all night. Billy probably learned the best spots to catch rats from him. When Chester passed on that 2 September in 2015, Billy became the new chief rattenfaenger (Smoky was never much for catching rats). I regret that we never adopted a younger cat or a kitten for Billy to pass on his unique set of behaviours, and it especially stings because he was such an incredibly good cat.

I named him Billy after a friend came over and I asked him if he wanted to help name this cat, since he had helped me pick the name Chester for our new orange cat, back in 2006. He felt that Billy was a friendly name for a friendly cat. Sadly, Billy experienced a rapid deterioration starting in December 2022, becoming noticeable only by the end of December & early January. He went to the vet and recovered for a few months, but ultimately complications from a stroke did him in. After the stroke on 22 April, his recovery stopped and his condition declined quickly. He was so tired and frail at the end. But I cherish his memory, so I'm not going to remember my cat that way.

Billy was mostly friendly with Riley, my brother's dog, and most of the cats in the neighbourhood too. Riley passed in February of this year. Both of them were 14 years old. I tried so hard to keep him alive for the first 5 months of 2023.. but his little body just couldn't take it anymore. So he passed at 09h50, 09 May, 2023. He passed in the backyard, with me by his side.. I had already scheduled his at-home euthanasia for Wednesday. But he didn't even last long enough to reach the vet clinic 2 miles away. Maybe it was selfish of me to think on Monday that I could just have 48 more hours with him. Maybe it was foolish of me to try at all. But I had to. He was a great cat. A great cat is worth fighting for. It's the least we can do to reward him for all the rats he caught over his life. It's been a month and I still miss him. He was with us for 13 years, yet it wasn't enough. All I wanted was for him to survive to the end of summer, because that's a cat's favourite time of year... alas, it was not meant to be.

Even in his old age, Billy preferred to stay outdoors. He was an incredible hunter, primarily of rats, mice, voles, and other small rodents. He definitely caught his share of birds and lizards, but thankfully those weren't his primary targets because there were just so many rats. I estimate that he caught, on average for 10 years, 5 rodents per week. There were many nights that I saw him catch 3 rats in a single evening & night; even ~7 where he caught 5 in a single night. My parents definitely would not have been able to grow a garden or keep the tortoise safe from predation by rats without Billy & Chester staying out most of every evening catching rats. Both of them had outdoor shelters too, or sometimes used the dog's old house. Billy & Chester were both incredible cats. Truly my family has been fortunate to have such wonderful fuzzy creatures.

Billy learned to sit in a chair to eat from Chester, and all the cats since have been doing it. I wish we had more early photos of him, but hard drive space was at a premium. 80% of the 236 photos & videos are from the last 3 years. At some point around 2020, he also learned that he could get attention and better food by banging on the pan, or by tipping over (empty) cups.

Casper, the white cat, came to the neighbourhood some time around ~2013, possibly from our neighbour 2 houses down, already approximately 2 years old. My father was feeding him outside, and he started coming inside and living with us starting in 2019. Billy wasn't exactly fond of him, but they did get close sometimes. He sometiems would steal Casper's dinner. Casper actually came up to cuddle Billy one night when he was sick. Billy also got along with the tortoises too, never really bothering them except for a few sniffs sometimes. Mrs. Slowski liked to try hiding in his fur sometimes when he was asleep, which always scared him. Now that Billy is gone, Casper is the king. The King is dead; All hail the King.

This is the final truly good healthy photo I have of him, from 24 March. I think the only thing keeping him going in the end was love - for me, for my parents, and for this house & neighbourhood. He wanted to stay with us as long as he could because he loved us. And I felt that I had to grant him as much time as possible, because it would be dishonourable to take time away from his life which is so precious to us when he so clearly wanted to stay.

I wish I could tell his original owners - an air force family who received orders to move to somewhere, Colorado, I think - that we loved him so much, that he brought so much joy to this house every day. Right up to the end. I wish I could tell them that when I came home on his Sunday evening, he still tried to run to the car to greet me. I wish I could tell them that he purred and that the sun was shining and the breeze was nice and that Casper and Mrs. Slowski were both there for him during his final moments. And so was I.

Adieu, Billy. I keep telling myself that you're still with me, just in another form. I keep pouring out my spent incense onto your grave, which is near Chester and Riley's graves. You are at peace now. Perhaps I will put together a combination of incenses that I feel represents your memory. I think it would be an eclectic combination of rose, pineapple sage, black pepper, and minty\piney frankincense.

Now, all that's left are his memories, his photos, his impact.. and his love.

If you're reading this, because I want you to depart with thoughts of happier times, here is a short video of Billy slowly sanding me while I scratch his belly - his favourite activity in the world.

[ausetkmt]

The New York Times: Viewing the Civil Rights Movement Through Children’s Books.

“Picture the Dream,” on display at the New-York Historical Society, shows that children, far from being mere witnesses to the civil rights movement, have played central roles in it.

In a verdant rural setting, a weathered gray fence separates two girls, one Black, one white. The Black child extends her hand as the white girl, already straddling the fence’s top rail, reaches down. Although they barely grasp each other’s fingers, a viewer can sense their curiosity, their anticipation, their desire to surmount this barrier.

The scene, a watercolor by E.B. Lewis, is among the first works visitors encounter in “Picture the Dream: The Story of the Civil Rights Movement Through Children’s Books,” on view through July 24 at the New-York Historical Society. Created for Jacqueline Woodson’s book “The Other Side,” from 2001, the painting reflects two of this exhibition’s major themes: that progress stems from everyday, individual action as much as from collective effort; and that children, far from being mere witnesses to the civil rights movement, have played central roles in it.

“It was kids themselves who are on the sidewalks and streets, going to jail, getting bitten by dogs, taking the attack of billy clubs,” Andrea Davis Pinkney, the exhibition’s curator, said in an interview at the museum. “And that is happening right now. This minute.”

The show, which traces the civil rights movement from segregation to the present, captures those terrible moments, along with interludes of joy. Organized by the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, Mass., and the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, “Picture the Dream” is the first exhibition to chronicle this history through children’s literature, Pinkney said. When the show debuted at the High Museum in August 2020, she added, some visitors thought George Floyd’s killing and the following protests had inspired it. But while “Picture the Dream” had been planned much earlier, subsequent events, including the racist massacre in Buffalo last month, have only sharpened its relevance.

“A picture book can never heal a tragedy,” Pinkney said, but “it can help us,” she added. Books allow families “to come together — an adult and a child — and say, ‘Let’s talk about this.’”

The potential to provoke such conversations was key to selecting the exhibition’s art, which comes from 60 books, nonfiction and fiction. Pinkney, an editor at Scholastic and an award-winning writer — she frequently collaborates with her husband, the illustrator Brian Pinkney — knew the show would commemorate milestones, including the Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott in 1955 and 1956 and the Selma-to-Montgomery marches in 1965. But in addition to honoring events, she wanted to feature a range of mediums and artists, including young illustrators like Vashti Harrison, as well as renowned figures like Faith Ringgold and Jerry Pinkney (her father-in-law).

The artworks, combined with explanatory text, constitute a kind of picture book themselves. Pinkney wrote the words as if she were creating a story, exhorting young museumgoers to get ready to walk: “Look down at your shoes. Are they sturdy?”

Pinkney and her collaborators also divided the show into chapters: “A Backward Path” explores the Jim Crow era; “The Rocks Are the Road” focuses on the movement itself; and “Today’s Journey, Tomorrow’s Promise” celebrates its rewards, while stressing that there is still much to be done. Along with famous faces like Rosa Parks and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., each segment features surprises, not the least of which is seeing the illustrations at full scale.

“The original artwork speaks with a different resonance,” the illustrator Bryan Collier, who has four works in the show, said in a phone interview. Because, he added, “it tells you a little bit more, it expands the idea of what a picture book is.”

The collage-and-watercolor illustration that Collier created for a picture book of Langston Hughes’s poem “I, Too,” depicts a Black Pullman porter in a striking close-up, staring resolutely through the translucent stars and stripes of an American flag. What visitors learn is that African American railway porters circulated news to Black communities around the country.

“When you say, ‘Pullman porter,’ you’re talking about a community organizer and a leader,” Collier said. Such a figure, he added, was “a driving force to tell that poem.”

The exhibition pairs Collier’s illustration with a 1959 copy of “The Negro Travelers’ Green Book” — a guide to places that were safe for Black motorists — as well as a digitized version visitors can read. The historical society supplemented the show with these objects and others, including segregation-era “White” and “Colored” signs and a photograph by Stephen Somerstein of children in a Selma-to-Montgomery march. The photo complements P.J. Loughran’s illustration of a marching crowd for Lynda Blackmon Lowery’s vivid memoir, “Turning 15 on the Road to Freedom: My Story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March.”

“I think kids and adults sometimes go to a museum, and they see illustrations or pictures of things, and they think: ‘Well, was this real? Did this really happen?’” Alice Stevenson, the vice president and director of the historical society’s DiMenna Children’s History Museum, said in a phone interview. “And we wanted to be able to give some touch points throughout the exhibition to really ground people in the reality of what these illustrations are representing.” (Visitors can also see historical footage in a short film, “Picture the Dream,” on the Bloomberg Connects app.)

The added objects heighten the impact of searing portrayals like Eric Velasquez’s charcoal drawing of white adults and children heckling Black girls marching, from Angela Johnson’s book “A Sweet Smell of Roses.”

“History itself did not see fit to sugarcoat itself for me,” Velasquez said in a phone conversation. As a Black man, he added, “I portray it the way I remember it.”

The exhibition is unflinching in acknowledging that not all Black children survived the struggle. Philippe Lardy’s image for Marilyn Nelson’s poetry book “A Wreath for Emmett Till” features the face of Till, a 14-year-old murdered by white racists in 1955, encircled by thorns and chains. Tim Ladwig’s illustration from Carole Boston Weatherford’s book “The Beatitudes: From Slavery to Civil Rights” is less stylized. It shows Till’s portrait and his coffin, but uses the raised lid — the boy’s mother insisted on a public viewing — to hide the brutalized body.

In choosing such images, “we were going to lean right into the truth,” said Pinkney, who added that the educational organization Embrace Race had evaluated the accuracy and the tone of the exhibition’s content.

The show’s final section strikes a more optimistic note, with illustrations like Velasquez’s portrayal of Barack Obama at a jubilant campaign rally, from Michelle Cook’s “Our Children Can Soar: A Celebration of Rosa, Barack and the Pioneers of Change.” The historical society, however, has also interspersed three works that children created in 2020 — not for picture books but about Black Lives Matter protests.

“We want kids to be able to respond to the past in their own lives,” Stevenson said.

Perhaps the best call to action is the books themselves, all shelved within a reading nook in the show’s concluding segment. Here, too, an outstretched hand appears, part of a joyful blown-up illustration that Collier painted for Useni Eugene Perkins’s book “Hey Black Child.”

“That’s always the goal — to read books, to embrace them, to love them,” Pinkney said. “And to know that a picture book can be your North Star.”

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

PWDRE SER

On the evening of August 13, 1819, in Amherst Massachusetts, a brilliant white fireball flashed through the sky, reflecting off the wall and lighting up the rooms inside of the house of Erastus Dewey before falling to earth in his yard. Dewey discovered a jellylike substance near his front door, and before long Professor Rufus Graves, a chemistry expert at Dartmouth College, was examining it. Graves's report on the pwdre ser, or star rot, was accepted and respected by the scientific community.

Circular in shape, one inch thick, and with a diameter of eight inches, the mass was similar to cloth on the outside; on the inside was a beige, lumpy substance emitting a revolting, noxious odor. Any attempt to get near the jellylike mass produced dizziness and nausea. After the outer layer had been removed, the inner matter rapidly changed from beige to a purplish, bloodlike color and became coated with moisture. Half a pint of the stuff was collected in a glass, and over the next few days, it went from a liquid to a fine, odor-free powder.

One Edward Hitchcock then went to live in Amherst, Massachusetts. He said that years later, another object, like the one said to have fallen in Dewey's yard in 1819, had been found at "nearly the same place." It was exactly like the first one, corresponding in size and color and consistency. The chemical reactions were the same.

Late on the evening of October 8, 1844, two men walking in a plowed field near Coblentz, Germany, were startled to observe the fall of a luminous object that crashed to earth not twenty yards from them. Because it was too dark to investigate, they marked the spot and returned early the next morning. Where the presumed meteorite had come down, however, there was now a gray, gelatinous mass which shook when they poked it with a stick. They did not try to preserve it.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[tippysattic]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VTG Amherst & Brock Gold Label Burgandy and gray silk necktie.