#also fortunately for me showing interest in people is an almost universally appreciated gesture (as long as you know how to express it)

[caffeinatedopossum]

I got very lucky as an autistic for naturally developing a psychology special interest cause I'm like so good at being normal because of it

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Night Terrors (Deadly Game AU) Chapter 2

Welcome back! I’m hoping to have the chapters all be posted by New Year’s, as a sort of grand finale for the year. Enjoy Chapter 2!

Previously on Night Terrors:

Heather sighed. She couldn’t put this off any longer. She reached out and pulled the cord. The doorbell rang out. And after a second, the door opened, revealing…

… an African American man of about fifty, wearing a blue jacket and blue pants with a plain white shirt. He smiled at them. “Well, hello there! You young folks come on in outta that cold.”

Heather blinked. Oh. Okay, well that wasn’t too bad. She followed the gang inside, with the man closing the door behind them.

Immediately upon stepping inside, Heather was hit by a wonderful blast of heat from the roaring fireplace. The cold was almost instantly chased away, and she sighed. At least it was warm.

“Welcome to the Burlington Library,” the man said, spreading his arms out to gesture to the whole of the large foyer. Heather’s whole greenhouse could have fit in the entrance hall. “We’re always open to receive guests! Glad you all found us!”

“We’re glad we found you too, sir,” Fred responded. “Our van sure could use some repairs.”

“We were wondering if we could spend the night,” Daphne said hopefully.

The man smiled, in a way that immediately set off alarm bells in her head. “You could stay here for the rest of your lives,” he said, once again in a way Heather did not like. The man gestured for them to follow him down a hallway.

Shaggy leaned over to Scooby. “Like, couldn’t we break down in a place where the dude who runs the joint didn’t act like he wanted to eat our livers?”

“With some fava beans and a nice Chianti, perhaps?” Heather muttered, smiling and chuckling morbidly at her own joke.

Velma turned to them. “Shaggy,” she scolded. “We’re guests, remember?”

Shaggy and Scooby got looks of fear at that. “Guests?” Scooby asked fearfully. “We’re what’s for dinner!”

Shaggy eeped in fear. Heather placed a hand on his shoulder. “I doubt we’re what’s for dinner, guys. Now c’mon, we should catch up with the others.”

They caught up with the group as they walked down the hallway, and Heather went up to the man. “Are you the caretaker, sir?” she asked politely.

“I certainly am, miss,” the man said cheerfully. “The name’s Dan Fluunk. I’m the caretaker up here all year ‘round. And may I know your name, miss?”

Heather smiled and offered her hand. “Heather McMann. Pleased to meet you. So you wouldn’t mind if we stayed the night?”

“It’s not a problem at all, Ms. McMann. Plenty of room right now. Only myself, a kind of creepy older lady that’s been staying with us a while, and the cook from an unspecified culture, Don Fong.”

Mr. Fluunk went over to a set of double doors and opened them, revealing a massive kitchen with incredibly huge ovens on one wall. Standing at the table holding a meat cleaver was a short man with tousled brown hair in a chef’s uniform, who looked incredibly ticked off at the large drumstick sitting on the cutting board.

“Stay outta the way of Don Fong,” Mr. Fluunk warned them. “He’s a bit, um, angry.”

Don Fong raised the meat cleaver, shouting something indistinct, then brought it down on the drumstick, chopping clean through the bone in one swing.

“See what I mean?”

Heather raised an eyebrow at Don Fong. Far be it from her to be xenophobic, when she herself wasn’t technically even of Earth, but she would definitely heed Mr. Fluunk’s advice and stay out of the way of Don Fong. Anyone who handled a meat cleaver like that deserved her respect. 

“Mr. Fluunk,” Velma said casually, but Heather could see her interest. “You said this was a library, right?”

“That I did. Would you like to see it?”

Velma’s casual air went away, and she clasped her hands excitedly. “Would I! Uh, I mean, sure,”

Mr. Fluunk chuckled, then turned away from the kitchen. “Right this way,”

He led the gang and Heather further down the hallway, until he came to another set of doors. He opened them and stepped inside. Heather entered, and froze.  

The library was indeed a hell of a library. It was vast and expansive, with shelves not just on the ground floor but also on the upper levels, with a long table with lamps to sit down at. Display cases of artifacts lined the walls, and across from the fireplace on the other wall was a huge window, showing the blizzard outside.

Heather’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of the library, and she couldn’t stop staring.

“Heather?”

Heather jumped and looked over. Beside her was Daphne, looking at her in concern. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Heather exhaled and nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine, Daphne.”

Mr. Fluunk led the group over to the fireplace and gestured up to a painting above the hearth. The painting was of four young adults, two boys and two girls, and… an orangutan? But Heather stared at the portrait thoughtfully. Apart from the randomness of the orangutan, the four young adults looked… very familiar. They were dressed in clothes from the late 1800s, and they looked a bit steampunk-ish.

Mr. Fluunk gestured proudly to the tall, handsome-looking young man in the center of the group. He had brown hair, was dressed a bit nicer than the rest, and was holding a golden compass in one hand. “The man himself: Oswald P. Burlington. Baron of the Rails, King of Steel, Lord of Steam. Back in the 1880s, he decreed that his library would stay open for visitors, anytime, day or night, forever and ever. If for any reason the library was to close, it and all its contents would go to Darrow University.”

“Was Mr. Burlington a steel mogul?” Heather asked Mr. Fluunk.

“His father was, I believe,” Mr. Fluunk replied. “That’s where the Burlington fortune comes from, in fact. The Burlington rail company was one of the few companies to not take government subsidiaries. But between you and me, Oswald got more use outta the rails than old Mr. Burlington. He traveled all around the world with his friends. It’s where all these artifacts come from.”

Mr. Fluunk led them across the library, gesturing to the artifacts in the display cases. “These artifacts are priceless. My family and I have been takin’ care of them for years.”

Heather admired the artifacts, but her attention was suddenly diverted by Velma. “Who are these portraits of, Mr. Fluunk?”

Heather looked up, and stared. Along one wall was a set of paintings. The subjects of the paintings? Four people and an animal. All of them. One was of four teenagers—two boys and two girls—wearing domino masks and a skunk (why a skunk?); another was of four male friars and a donkey; and a third was of four cowgirls and a bull.

Four people and an animal. Like the picture of Mr. Burlington, his friends, and the orangutan. Like the group of teenagers and dog she was with right now.

“That’s a curious question, young lady,” Mr. Fluunk replied. “Mr. Burlington had a fascination with groups of four people and an animal. But I have no idea why. It was some sort of mystery he was trying to solve.”

He just had to say the magic word. Heather shivered, definitely not from any cold she still felt, and tore her gaze away from the portraits. Mr. Fluunk led them to a statue of the same orangutan from the picture. The orangutan sat perched on the stand, with a fez atop its head.

“Now over here’s something really interesting,” Mr. Fluunk said, his tone turning affectionate. “A statue of Mr. Burlington’s pet orangutan, Mr. Peaches. Oh, they went everywhere together; adventure after adventure. He loved his monkey.”

But Heather was unable to appreciate the friendship. She stared paranoidly at the statue of Mr. Peaches, wishing she’d stayed home.

What is wrong with you? she thought to herself as they left the library. Pull yourself together. First impressions aren’t everything; you know that. Sure this house seems a little spooky, but that’s never stopped you before. You’re not Shaggy and Scooby; you’re better than that. There’s nothing wrong with this house. Pull yourself together.

Even so, she couldn’t help but mutter a KISSterian prayer under her breath as she left the library.

-/-

Mr. Fluunk came out of the kitchen where he was getting Shaggy and Scooby situated to make something, meeting Fred, Daphne, Velma, and Heather in the hallway. “Now, how about those rooms?” he asked.

Daphne sighed eagerly. “Oh, yes! A hot shower sounds amazing right now! Or a warm fire!”

Heather had to smile and nod at that. “Oh yeah, there’s nothing like a warm fire,” she agreed.

But they hadn’t even gotten up the stairs to the second floor when loud screaming echoed from back downstairs. Heather and the gang whipped their heads around. “That’s Shaggy and Scooby!” Fred exclaimed. “Come on!”

They ran back down the stairs, Heather following suit. Her heart pounded in her chest. Please let them be okay.

They were running down the hall to the kitchen when Shaggy and Scooby suddenly appeared, running from the kitchen, and crashed into the gang. Heather skidded to a stop just in time to not join the pile on the floor.

The gang picked themselves up. “We heard screaming!” Velma exclaimed.

Fred and Heather helped a violently shaking Shaggy and Scooby up off the floor. “Are you okay?” Heather asked.

“What’s wrong you guys?” Fred questioned.

Scooby turned back to the kitchen doors fearfully. “Don Fong, rorrible monster!” he cried.

Heather’s eyebrows went up. “Monster?”

“L-L-Like, in there,” Shaggy pointed at the doors, shaking and whimpering.

After a pause, Heather went over to the doors, the gang following behind. She cautiously turned the knob and opened the door, sticking her head inside and looking around. She frowned. “Are you sure, boys?” Heather opened the doors, and the gang looked inside to see…

A completely empty, spotless kitchen.

Shaggy and Scooby gaped at the kitchen in shock. “Like, wha—nuh—nuh-huh—No way!” Shaggy protested. “We totally trashed this place!”

Scooby looked into the kitchen fearfully. “What’s going on?”

That was precisely what Heather wanted to know.

[musicksu]

2018 NAfME Senior Researcher Award Acceptance Address – Dr. Harry Price

2018 Senior Researcher Award Acceptance Address: Open-Mindedness for ALL Available Research Data

Dr. Harry Price Professor of Music and Music Education Kennesaw State University School of Music

View original article from Journal of Research in Music Education

-----

Beethoven is credited with saying “Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy.” With that, we could stop right now, but that would make this talk a bit too short.

It is important to begin by recognizing some important people. I appreciate the National Executive Board of NAfME, the Music Education Research Council and its Executive Committee, as well as all the members of the Society for Research in Music Education for supporting my nomination. I especially want to thank my skilled colleague and friend Deborah Confredo. She wrote a remarkable nomination letter for this award. It is an honor for me to be named among this award’s previous recipients.

As an undergraduate in the early 1970s, I assisted a doctoral student, Michael Wagner. My job was as a “technology” aide to him. At that time, our job was mostly to make sure that the stereos were hooked up and the power cords were plugged in. Yes, this was the time of phonograph players, a little machine that was about this size that turned around and around, on which you placed a vinyl disk, and a needle sat on it to transfer the waveforms through an amplifier to speakers. We also made sure that the equipment was turned on, a problem many times. Mike helped me to begin thinking about music education and how it does or does not function. Along with this work, I also helped some other doctoral students with technology in their research.

In my master’s work, Clifford Madsen directed the thesis. Later, after teaching a bit, I was fortunate to work with Cornelia Yarbrough on my doctorate and beyond; strangely, I assisted her with some technology when she worked on her dissertation. Cornelia taught me a great deal about education, research, and life in general. She is responsible for so many good things that have happened to me. What would we do without our wonderful mentors? As for the not-so-successful things that have occurred in my career, those are due to my continued stubbornness.

My colleagues over the years have been so helpful. At Virginia Tech, I was able to further develop my research skills—even as the marching band director. By the way, Jere Humphreys (2006) stated that the ancient Romans fielded marching bands, so I guess I was doing historical research when I was there. Of course, there were the many positive years at the University of Alabama, which was incredibly supportive of my research. Finally, there were many wonderful undergraduate and graduate students in my almost 40 years of teaching. How rewarding it has been for the students and me to share working on papers together! Interestingly, I worked quite a while ago with one of my students, Evelyn K. Orman, and now am assisting her fine research on virtual reality, efforts that she has pursued for more than 18 years (Orman, Whitaker, Price, & Confredo, 2017). In this case, the teacher can also become the student.

Now, I would like to share with you some data that come from an examination of all the citations in Journal of Research in Music Education, from its beginning to 2015. Before going on, however, we need to remember that there are many researchers today who are making wonderful contributions and providing important professional service and excellent teaching.

The most referenced author in JRME’s history—okay, prepare yourself for this surprise—is Clifford Madsen. His works have been cited more than 670 times going back to 1966. He is the most referenced individual in JRME, and he continues to be an important contributor. After him, there is John Geringer, with more than 390 citations. He also continues working with colleagues and pursuing his joy: research. Finally, the third most cited scholar in our field—and my mentor—is Cornelia Yarbrough, with more than 275 citations (Price & Hancock, 2017). What wonderful examples these three people are for us, as are many of you in this room! Obviously, these data are an indication of people pursuing knowledge; as Campbell stated, “following your bliss” (Campbell & Moyers, 1988).

We need to continue growing and changing over time; if not, then we need to stop right now and refocus our perspectives or even our direction. This may be what Pat Flowers (2012) referred to when she said, “those who have engaged in doing research again and again are often humble in their knowledge and generous in mentoring others” (p. 247). Over time, I have come to realize how little I know that is research-based; however, in all honesty, I was an expert on so many things when I was younger!

Sadly, the need for more research has not prevented people from going forward with facts that came from who knows where. So for those of you who have solutions but no research data to support them, please take some time to consider this and what it may say about the lack of data or your ideas. I am going to state this one more time: If you have solutions but no research data to support them, please take the occasion to consider this and what it may say about the lack of data or your unsupported conclusion.

Some of the previous recipients of this award have said that they did not want to predict the future of our research world, and I agree, having had many long-range professional plans myself, none of which have ever been accurate. For example, I got my first Macintosh computer in 1984; it was the Fat Mac (512K memory). My prediction then was that there would be no difference among desktop computers in 5 years. Here we are almost 35 years later, and we still have not gotten to that point. So, I predict that in 5 more years . . . oh, never mind!

I could talk about some of my own research in the areas of rehearsal atmosphere, feedback, pacing, conductor demeanor, conductor effect on performance assessment, rehearsal structure, verbal communication, content, aural modeling, conceptual teach- ing; or nonverbal issues, such as facial expression, eye contact, and gesture; or music appreciation, music preferences, content analyses; or examining researchers’ approaches; or virtual reality work; but, I am not addressing any of these today.

Instead, let us consider the basic concept of questioning ideas. This approach is over 1,000 years old (Lorch, 2017). It was mentioned recently in the television show Cosmos, originally hosted in 1980 by Carl Sagan and more recently by Neil deGrasse Tyson (2014). The first thing we do is to consider conceptions that we believe might be real. Then, we need to examine these ideas with experiments and observations. Based on the results, we build on the ideas that are supported and reject the ones that fail. We develop concepts, create assessments to view whether they work or not, and then build on this information toward the attainment of knowledge-based results.

The goal is to follow the evidence, not to build on what we believe. In the end, the key to all of this is to question everything, even if it is an idea that makes complete sense but has no data available to support it. So, after we produce philosophical research about a concept, we test it. With those results, we build on ideas that pass the test and reject the ones that fail. We question everything, and it leads us to the next experiment. With this approach, we continue following the results wherever they lead.

Asking unbiased questions might be the most consequential issue of our work. Always do this! Do not just accept things because they seem logical, because someone said so in a speech, because we have read it somewhere, or because it has always been that way. If you accept this inquiry approach, there are five steps to follow:

Test the idea.

Build on the concepts that are supported.

Reject the ones that fail.

Continue following the evidence, wherever it leads.

Finally, this will lead us to a clarified idea and the next research project.

Some unsupported results from our work can be a challenge. It is possible that something we strongly believe in, even if it has been accepted for many years, may not be accurate in the context of current and more complete knowledge. Is it the truth? Well, for now it is, but that may also change in the future. It is a certainty for the moment.

Whether one’s research interests are philosophical, qualitative, mixed methods, quantitative, or any other approaches, the key is to be open-minded. To employ a qualitative or quantitative approach, there are specific procedures that need to be pursued. Everyone has a bias—we are human. We cannot, however, allow those predispositions to guide how we do our work. For instance, when interviewing people, one can structure the process for the answer that is wanted since the correct response is already known; or one can structure the questions for an unbiased answer that allows people to provide a true and open reply. Using a more quantitative example, one can have people look at examples that will yield the correct answer wanted, or one can provide examples that are open enough so that individuals can reply in any direction. When carried out appropriately, one may well come to the end of the research with findings that indicate an initial perspective might have been correct or incorrect. Our goal is to understand that there are several possible results, and we must have the background to see them. It does not matter if we look at situations behaviorally, constructively, ecologically, cognitively, situationally, or most anyway. Our personal biases need to be avoided. In fact, if we are open to any possible response, this might be the strongest way to examine anything. Every approach lends an understanding to what we are investigating.

There are differences in how we move forward. When operating in a qualitative mode, the involvement needs to be for an extensive period. This allows time to understand what you are looking at and its meaning to the people involved. In fact, as many of you know, normally we check with the people or group we are working with regarding our understanding of what we think we saw. Saying that “we observed something five times or spoke to five different people for an hour, and here is what we know” is not research of any kind. It might be a good thing for a newspaper or a public journal article. We can go from many results to theories or have theories that then can be examined. Regardless of the direction of the research, we must be open to any response, not just what we want to hear to reinforce our own belief. As I stated previously, in the end, all of us must be willing to admit that our perspectives or anticipated results may have been incorrect. Frankly, I find this approach is a huge challenge, but I continue to work on it. It is very personal, even though it is professional work, because these concepts may be things we have believed for quite a long period.

Those of us who have been reviewers may well have seen papers that from beginning to end were headed to a specific result, which of course the authors found. The question would then be, could we have gotten different results from the research done in a different way? We must examine everything openly, with a willingness to change with new data. As the host of the new Cosmos program said, “The good thing about science is that it’s true whether or not you believe it” (Tepper, 2014). That is not always easy!

Please do not make a transfer to our country’s politics today! However, we have a diversity of so many different publication sources. This variety is a good thing, although it also can be bad news depending on how we handle it. My concern is that in music education, we seem to be getting isolated. We may even present a study with almost all reference materials coming from one or two journals (Price & Hancock, 2017). Now, depending on what your work is, there might be a best source or two, but there are so many possibilities in and outside of music that may also be helpful. Until we look further for information, we may well be missing important findings. In my view, it is unfortunate that sometimes music educators and music psychologists do not know of or cite the research by other scholars. Honestly, I think music educators are a bit more open, but we all still need to expand our perspectives. For instance, there is one conference where music educators and music psychologists attend. Sadly, these two groups barely interact, except for some of the sessions they all attend. How silly!

We need to try to read more broadly, go to a wider array of conferences, and expand the sources where we submit our works for presentation or publication. Breadth, for us, leads to greater knowledge, additional interests, and growth in many directions. I have no magic formula, but I can hope that, with time, the receptivity of colleagues in psychology, education, and music will increase, as will our knowledge. Why not?

In my undergraduate days, our professor had us each read a research study and summarize its “essential point”; this task was also done with a graduate class. Even though as undergraduates we were not trained in research or statistical skills, the resultant brief summaries were excellent. With no research background, we were able to give correct and important summative points about the articles. Interestingly, these summaries were similar to those the graduate students produced. However, there was one difference: The graduates were more likely to turn in typewritten summaries versus handwritten reports.

It is interesting that even today we have colleagues who say, “Research is too complicated for our undergraduates.” I would argue that there is no reason not to discuss research in many of our undergraduate classes, whether about elementary music, choral or instrumental techniques, class management, or conducting work. The key is that our undergraduates will start to understand that there is research they can learn from immediately. Those among you who are doing this, please encourage our wonderful colleagues to include findings in their undergraduate teaching. We can do this immediately.

When I worked on my theses a long, long time ago, it was hand-typed. However, the analysis could be done either by hand or on a mainframe computer. Given that some of you have not ever dealt with this, I’ll give you an overview. You had to put everything on cards that were then read by the machine. Sometime later, you could go and get your analysis or find out that there were errors, fix them and resubmit, fix them and resubmit, fix them and resubmit until finally it was correct. A little while later, the dissertation could be typed into the computer, but you still needed cards to set up formatting, check spelling or whatever you needed done to the text, in addition to submitting- ting the cards for data and their analyses. The blue text that came out of the machine was even accepted for the final dissertation document. When everything was going on, I was also participating in research efforts with my major professor. In addition to all we learn from each other, having to get far into the data to understand our analyses and how the items function is tremendously instructive.

I wonder if we have lost something by not having to do any qualitative or quantitative analysis by hand anywhere in our careers. There is a depth of understanding initially that, I think, comes from having to do the mathematics or analysis work, even if it is simple statistical analysis or labeling or seeing how data fit and affect the analyses. What happens if the means were different, or the shape of the data changed, or the standard deviation varied, or the probability level changed? Why do we pick p = .05? Why not .04 or .07? Are we really doing this because we have 5 or 10 fingers?

Katherine Johnson, whose story was featured in the movie Hidden Figures, was recently interviewed. Johnson was one of the three African American women pioneer mathematicians who worked for NASA in the 1960s. She said, “First you learn how to work the problem, and then you can use the computer” (Lindsey, 2018). It is unbelievable the things we can do today, or have done for us, compared to 25 or even 5 years ago. But the question is, do we know the meaning of our analysis and why we have specific results or how we get the effect size and what it says? Regardless of how we get there, it is important to understand the basic factors in these analyses, not just definitions we get from textbooks or other situations that resulted in our findings. Yes, computers can do most of it, but what do these results really mean, and how did we get here?

The position of music education research has sometimes been treated well and at other times not, but we need to continue being strong advocates for our field. Things have not changed since before I was involved forever ago. As an example, among NAfME’s online information for this meeting, they listed five “thought-provoking sessions in this year’s conference.” Among those big things there was not one mention of research—in our 2018 Music Research and Teacher Education National Conference. In fairness, maybe one of the five, “Mapping the Route to Publication: Advice from NAfME Journal Editors,” does relate to research, since a couple of the included editors are from our research-sourced journals (NAfME, 2018).

Finally, as researchers, we know the value of our work and its relation to aspects of music education. Indeed, previously JRME and the other NAfME research journals had a page, written by Ella Wilcox, in Music Educators Journal that described some clear teaching possibilities from some of these journals’ articles. We do not know how well this section functioned, but work like that and other methods of making connections seem like an excellent idea. Of course, this was also the initial goal of Update: Applications of Research in Music Education. Indeed, the promotion of our discipline has happened in many ways, and we need to continue pursuing this activity.

We now have the plan of combining our meeting with NAfME’s K–12 conferences. Interestingly, this is a return to a previous structure, for those among you who are not aware. It could be positive, if our research community, conference efforts, and successes are not hindered. Would it not be remarkable to be able to hear more music at a music educators conference? How about interacting with all our colleagues, including those who teach in pre-K through 12th grade? We could share the many things we have learned. This could also, more directly, provide the opportunity to learn and hear what our colleagues are focused on and what they would like to know more about. Just like all functional collaborations, everyone can learn, grow, and move forward if it is well organized and people do not try to get political or run the meetings in other directions for other purposes. Think of the chances for interactions that we could all have! The trick is to move with great care and thought about how everyone could benefit.

When I was more involved with MENC, and now NAfME, promoting our work was (and still is) a lifelong feature that resulted in both good and bad reactions over the years. This, of course, is a personal choice, and the problems created were real, but so were the rewards; indeed, receiving the Senior Researcher Award is the most positive professional experience that I could ever have imagined. We need to promote research and its findings, in our field and other areas, to help people understand the importance of what we do, the foci, the values, and the relevancy.

Again, I need to thank the previous recipients of this award. Several of them have said that we do research because we enjoy it (Geringer, 2000; Leblanc, 1992; Reimer, 2008; Sims, 2016). The pleasure that we get out of doing research is the single largest internal variable functioning for us (Leblanc & McCrary, 1990). Many of us are intellectually curious and want to further understand situations. The style or type of research is not the key! There is no point in talking about the correct theoretical, applied, or developing ideas, or quantitative or qualitative approaches, or whatever the nature of the work. Regardless of what we believe in, the key is the pleasure that the research approach gives us and the need for being open to many ideas. All research provides learning, understanding, and enlightenment. As one of my mentors, Cornella Yarbrough (personal communication, March 3, 2018), said, “Research is my performance medium.” How we go about it is our own personal choice.

All of you here today are friends, colleagues, or interested individuals who care about music education and research. It does not matter where we work—all of us were or are teachers in general music; elementary, middle, or high school orchestras; band or choir directors; or teachers of music theory or appreciation. Everything in music education is consequential. You care about music and helping people learn about it, and that makes you special. My respect for you is immeasurable. There are so many other things in life that many of you could pursue, but instead, you are involved with teaching and learning music. Understanding how we can pursue this better through a knowledge of research findings is our goal. In this regard, I both thank you and admire you more than you can ever know.

I will end with the measure conductor Jeremy Zander uses to know whether people are focused and enjoying themselves: It is by the number of folks whose eyes are shining. I hope some of you smiled or lit up at some point in this talk. We are all so fortunate for the music we love and what we get to do!

[zingmagazine]

Lutwidge Finch: A Novel by Thomas Rayfiel, Part III Chapter 7

The soft yet powerful hands of Monsieur Robert were completely at Madame Schlierbeck's service. She lay naked on a marble slab, having dispensed with even the modest sheet she had been offered, and allowed his lightning-fast palms to chop up and down her back, felt them stray, daringly, teasingly, to that nether region so ill-defined in our anatomy where the body's upright nature shades indistinctly toward that of its quadruped ancestor.

"Mmmm," she said, finding the experience called for wordless, yet vocal, appreciation.

It would have done no good to talk. Monsieur Robert spoke not a word of English and Hepzibah Schlierbeck, despite the 'Madame' with which she continued to preface her name (it would do until Lady) had no French. But they understood each other perfectly, these two, the adorer and the adored, as he moved on to her shoulders, appraising, admiring, suggesting, all in the articulate language of the physical.

"Voila!" he finally said, less a word in this case than an exclamation, accompanied, as it was, by a friendly slap on the bottom, as if he had just delivered her, safe and sound, into this new sensual world.

No crying babe though, Madame Schlierbeck merely sat up lazily (all her bones seemed newly acquainted, making a jolly, good-natured effort to work together, no petty jealousies, gripes or nursed aches, having yet arisen) and smiled. She reached for the purse resting on top of her carefully folded clothes and tendered a large, chocolate-colored coin. Monsieur Robert bowed slightly and, with a twinkling, luck-wishing look in his eye, left the 'Madame Anglaise', as they had come to call her at the Bains Solitaire, alone, so that she might dress.

Paris was a revelation for Hepzibah. Never before had she realized what "abroad" meant, how one could flower here as nowhere else. It was not that she was going native, aping the locals, making a spectacle of herself. Rather, it was that her economical and practical exterior, hard as that of a small seed, had burst forth in the most unexpected manner. Stretching her arms, she felt exhilaration surge through her body. In twenty minutes lay the appointment. She thought she would be nervous, now she knew she would not. How fortunate it had been, yielding to Mr. Hardheart's repeated demand that, if she insisted on handing over the sum to be loaned his Lordship personally, it at least be done on the Continent. Her father, of all people, had offered the unlikely encouragement that finally convinced her. He had overheard her refusing, again, to make the journey to Paris, and, after the agent left, remonstrated with his daughter for "shutting herself up in this poky little store." It had hurt, to hear him denigrate their establishment so. Their home, she felt, for they did little more upstairs than eat and sleep. But Reza Schlierbeck was insistent. "You think I lived here all my life?" he asked. "I came here, after many adventures. I like it here fine now, for a man of my age. But you, knoedelichen, you have to see things, kick the dust from your heels, before you decide to settle down." In the end, he had forced her hand by threatening to invite to dinner the widow Klein, a woman clearly smitten with Reza's still lean and romantic profile. "Of course I couldn't if I was alone here," he went on, blithely ignoring Hepzibah's smoldering stare. "It wouldn't look right. But with you as chaperone..." So she gave up the picture of Jeffrey, Eighth Earl of Choir, stooping low to avoid the domino-like knocking of dried salami that formed a bead curtain above the entranceway to her office, and with little more than a guidebook, a letter of credit, and one indispensable item from the fragrant alcove, set off on her journey.

The café table was reserved, the man from the hotel, waiting. She signed a receipt and saw with pleasure the strongbox set down on the round, rose-veined marble. It was a sentimental gesture, having the box here. Flat, chipped, dented deeply, this was the very container Reza had carried his meager savings in when coming to England so long ago. It was only fitting the money should return now, much multiplied by dogged labor, just as she was returning, not the struggling merchant but his successful daughter, to the continent, if not the country, of her ancestors. Indeed, she now saw something providential, clairvoyant, in her having adopted the sobriquet Madame, since France fit her like a glove. It was many things, the smell of the air, the light through trees, but mostly, she reflected, sipping mineral water and watching the world go by, it was just this: the unending theater of people passing. In London people passed too, of course, but bundled up, even in summer, their emotions tightly buttoned, their faces giving away nothing. It was to penetrate this tough carapace and so succeed in her chosen field that Madame Schlierbeck had developed her ability to shrewdly judge, to see past all subterfuge (the conscious and the unconscious), to sense the true motive, worth, and trustworthiness, of her clients. Here, people dressed to show, much as characters in a play attempt to convey even more by their clothes and manner than by their spoken lines. People paraded. You were encouraged to observe. You never felt you were spying, intruding, simply by looking across the street, or into someone's eyes. It would all be for naught, if one did not, for what was the actor without the audience, the parade without the cheering crowd? Faces brimmed here, with happiness, with tears, with hunger, but showed, in a way their English counterparts did not. So she sat, thoroughly at ease, appreciating her fellow humans for the first time, subjecting them not to a narrow, cynical analysis, but offering them an amiable, almost loving acceptance. How rare, she thought, considering her universally despised race, to feel one belongs.

The view was replaced by the Earl of Choir, who sat opposite without asking permission or indeed uttering her name. He was immaculately tailored as always, with a monocle hanging loose on a purple ribbon, his jet-black mustache, and a sprig of lilac in his lapel. He wore scent, she noted, also of lilac. And carried a rapier-thin cane.

"Well," he said insolently, taking out a cigarette case, "gaze your fill."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My agent said you wanted to see me, personally, before completing our transaction. Seemed damned irregular to me but since I have no choice..."

"Our arrangement itself is irregular," Madame Schlierbeck pointed out, watching him wave away the waiter. This was not, she saw, a social call for the Earl. This was not even business. It was a disgusting task and he would make no effort to conceal the fact. His gallantry did not extend, did not descend, to dealings with her kind. It stopped abruptly, as at the edge of a swamp. "I simply wanted to make things clear, face to face."

"It is all spelled out in that paper I signed, isn't it?"

"I am lending you five thousand pounds," she said, patting the top of the strongbox.

--to which his eyes involuntarily swerved, as if a starving animal had been offered meat--

"You, in six month's time, will either pay back the sum, with interest, or agree to marry me."

"Yes, well anything for a good sandwich, I always say."

"I want you to understand the gravity of the agreement you are entering into. I will hold you to your word. There is no other reason for my loaning you this sum. The rate I am offering is far in reduction to what you would get elsewhere. And if the Choir name means anything, you will not suffer it to be soiled by my bringing a suit for Breach of Promise."

He laughed harshly, fit the monocle in his eye and glanced over her with a look of incredulity.

"Madame Schlierbeck," he said sarcastically, "please excuse me if the schoolgirl fantasies of a moneylenderess do not interfere with the day-to-day considerations of a peer. I will take your cash, and at the end of six months I will give it back to you with the blood money you people are so famous for extorting. The tall tale you are telling exists only in your overheated imagination. I am sorry," he gave a mock, seated bow, "to disappoint."

"You intend to marry for the repayment, then?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Your concerns are my concerns. And mine, yours," she added significantly, continuing to rest her hand on the top of the box.

His gaze rested there as well. He pursed his lips.

"What is it you want?" he asked, in a different tone of voice now. "I have come, haven't I? If you wished to see me brought low, if you wished to see me shamed, well, understand: this is humiliation for me, simply my being here, at your beck and call."

"I don't want to shame you," she frowned, not sure this was strictly true. What about that picture she had of him quite literally brought low, stooping to enter the humble precincts of her office? "It is your title that interests me, and your station."

"--both of which would mean nothing if I defiled them with an outrageous marriage. You face the classic climber's dilemma. Wherever you want to get, you will never get there, because by definition it does not include you."

"That is not how I see it," Madame Schlierbeck riposted. "The way I see it, you are the last in a line of old, tired, sterile dead wood. And I am exactly what you so desperately need. New blood. New capital. With my resources, you might actually begin to approximate what a true nobleman should be, one whose actions are backed by authority, one whose word is law. You think people bow to you now, but they snigger behind your back. 'There goes the penniless Earl,' they whisper. If you put me in charge of your lands, I guarantee in ten years you will be free and clear of all debts, in twenty years, the luster of the Choir arms will be restored to their former glory, and in thirty years, god willing, you will be the practically independent ruler of a small kingdom, with greater powers than, say, your great-great grandfather ever had."

"Are you applying to become my bailiff or my wife?"

"I am proposing to be your partner, in every sense of the word."

Choir, amused, raised his hand. A waiter appeared.

"Will you drink with me?" he asked. "No? Well I need something. Cognac." He returned his eyes to Hepzibah. "I cannot decide if you wish to save my soul, or claim it."

"I wish to be the Lady of Choir Castle," she shrugged.

"Understand," he said gravely. "I will marry before the six months is up. I already have my sights trained on the most eligible of heiresses."

"No doubt. But perhaps you will come to realize that the union I propose is in your own best interest. That is what I wished to tell you, personally, not to see you beg, but to make you think."

"Very well. Then this will be less a loan and more in the nature of a bet. Though it is not my habit to wager with ladies."

She smiled, acknowledging the compliment, and took off the small, heart-shaped locket that hung round her neck. Free of that possible entanglement, she slowly began to draw up the links of her gold chain. Like hauling a bucket from a deep well, Choir thought, trying not to appear eager. Finally, the key to the strongbox appeared.

"Five thousand pounds. Please count it and sign this receipt."

"Oh, I trust you," the Earl said, pocketing the thick wads of notes.

"As you like. Sign here."

He did, with surprising care, his tongue stuck partway out, as if he had just learned how to write.

"Where will you go now?" Madame Schlierbeck asked, taking advantage of his distracted attention to examine more fully his physique. He was actually somewhat small, but firm and well-knit. She felt a flicker go through her, the lingering aftereffects of Monsieur Robert's massage, no doubt, and resisted the temptation to reach out and touch the curly head bent over the document.

"My clothes are in shocking condition," he said, completing the signature with a flourish. "While here, I intend to order a new wardrobe, then return later and oversee the fittings."

It was easy to see why people underestimated the Earl, taking his rather insipid manner (which was genuine, he really was preoccupied, already, with the relative merits of the paisley versus the polka dot) for an expression of his true nature. But just as a cheetah can appear the epitome of laziness when at rest, then bound off to outrun an antelope, so Choir, despite a hunger for the ephemeral, the worthless and impractical, could act with swift decisiveness and cunning when it was in his interest to do so. Indeed, only then. It was this queer blend that attracted, or let us say, excited Hepzibah. His dual nature made the loan--yes, he was right--something in the nature of a gamble. It was exciting that he was not so boringly predictable as her other clients had all proved to be.

"Are there geese at Choir Castle?" she asked.

"Geese? Yes. And chickens, and ducks, and goats. They wander through the dining hall, which resembles nothing so much as a station platform nowadays, with no furniture and the roof in tatters."

She signalled for the hotel servant, who came and took away the strongbox.

"I must go," she said, holding out her hand.

He kissed it, enjoying the slight blush he thought he detected.

"In six month's time, then?" Hepzibah smiled.

"You shall receive an invitation long before then," he promised. "But you people are not permitted to enter the Abbey, are you?"

Alone, Choir had the waiter bring him another drink. He was so giddy with excitement at being once again in funds he knew it was best to sit, not run off wildly and start buying whatever came to eye. Be sensible, part of him warned. But he knew he would not feel fully alive until he had made his first extravagant purchase. The silk smoking jackets of the rue Dalier beckoned. A locket rested on the table. Yes, she had taken it off when extracting the key. He picked it up and looked for Madame Schlierbeck, but she was already gone. I shall pass it on to Hardheart, he thought, who shall return it along with the loan once I am able to sell off the Shepperton estate. The ludicrous image of Hepzibah tossing grain to the assorted livestock of Choir Castle made him shake his head. What was the world coming to?

In Rome, the Duchess Middleton was entertaining similar thoughts. There are Jews everywhere, she scowled, mistaking the Holy Father himself (perhaps because of the office's tiny white skullcap) for his illustrious predecessor. A contingent of Swiss Guards nearly ran her down. The Eternal City was a dangerous place. She would never have come here at all, certainly not in October, had it not been a question of duty. The Duchess was very conscious of her role as matriarch of the Bourneville clan. It gave her actions meaning. She was a representative, a dignitary, even if these greasy heathens refused to acknowledge the fact. Of course the only way to get respect from foreigners is to wave a piece of gaudy play money under their rather pronounced noses, she told herself. But, here incognito, she suffered the outrages of the solitary traveller in silence. Anything for family. The via del Corso gave onto a more crowded street. To escape, or rather to more fully enter the heat, families dined out on the roadway itself, wax-spattered bottles sporting candles whose flames shone feebly in the still-bright dusk. Horses, used, apparently, to fettucine on cobblestone, picked their way around the various repasts, their great tongues lolling, drool pooling in soft corners of elongate jaws. I am in Hell itself, she fantasized, which I would gladly traverse with the family scutcheon held high, and ferry it unsullied to the opposite shore. But there was the contrasting, nagging notion that she was only wading deeper into a morass, not simply meddling, but having taken an actual wrong turn in the real world. She was too timid to consult the map the owner of her pensione had scrawled on the torn page of a French novel. Walking towards my doom! she thrilled, seeing a boy with no shirt, thin, and with just the start of manhood about him, advance on her with a glass of red champagne.

"I have no money," she said, thinking he meant to sell her refreshment. This stark admission she would have never made in London, where it was simply assumed any Bourneville was rich. So Italy, even to those not seeking it, encourages visitors to cleanse themselves with simple truths. In fact "airs" were mostly what the Duchess lived on.

But the child insisted, holding forth the goblet, which was heavy cut glass, not all what one served sparkling wine in, so that the round surface fizzed like a lake situated in a volcano's crater.

"No!" she cried again. The boy had an idiot's wolf-like smile.

"Lambrusco!" someone called.

Surely being summoned by name would make him break off. But he only motioned again, exaggerated his already outstretched offer, causing the wine to slop and spill towards her, one red drop catching the late Roman sun.

"Signora." A man had gotten up and was lumbering over. "It is Lambrusco, a wine of celebration. My boy asks you to drink to our daughter's health."

"Oh." She saw now the wedding party, charmingly grouped before one of the subsiding tenements.

"It is custom," the man went on, taking the glass from the boy and handing it to her. "A stranger gives her blessing."

"I will indeed." She felt the bubbles bite her lip.

"Miranda." The father pointed out each member of the multitude. "Her husband, Sergio. Sergio's mother, Alma..." And on it went. The Duchess nodded at each in turn, with a vague smile she hoped conveyed her lofty beneficence. "And two of your own countrymen who live here in the quartiere."

She had by now unconsciously drunk half the glass and felt less a sense of violation at the man's sweaty, garlicky presence. But seeing the very people she had come in search of, seated comfortably among the other celebrants, the Duchess stiffened, took a deep breath, much as an actress does before stepping out from the wings, and advanced on the unsuspecting pair.

"What did you ever do with my macaw?" Bradley Ghoulrich was asking.

"He was very good with parsley sauce," Lutwidge Finch recalled.

"Tell me you are joking."

Click to read more.

[clapway]

Learning the Chinese Language – Way to Gain Mileage in Your Business with China

Although English has long been the universal language of business, the Mandarin Chinese is gaining popularity quite steadily. For many countries trying to establish business overseas, English is ubiquitous. However, the tables have turned and business is booming in the orient. Chinese is growing in popularity among the common languages of trade. For those trying to understand and learn Mandarin Chinese, you need to know about the nitty-gritty of the language.

Of course, the Chinese language categories, tutors, and even PC programs can facilitate the introduction and learning process. However, I found the most effective method of learning the language to be the old school immersive learning that can only be achieved by either renting a loft in China Town or by actually sampling the Chinese culture by visiting China. Immersing yourself in a completely different culture triggers the exponential phase of your learning curve. I found that comparatively few people in China were ready to communicate in English and that left me with no other option than pick up their native language quickly. It was more of a question of survival rather than the knack for learning a new language that got me fluent in Mandarin.

One specific feature of the Chinese culture that I found extremely intriguing was the use of gestures and body language to communicate. When two people communicate, a slight nod of their head or a small hand gesture may signify more than words can convey. This is one lesson you can never learn from online classes or crash courses on Mandarin Chinese. In China, it is common for people to communicate without saying a word. And the portrayal of Chinese men and women as taciturn hermits may even be true to some extent when you consider their undeniable skills of non-verbal communication.

“When in Rome be a roman” and when in China, you better learn Mandarin! If you have any business interest in China. It may be export, import or setting up a place of business in the country, you should to learn the Chinese language to get that extra edge in your business opportunities. Learning the language is not so much for the love of the language. But it has to do more with sending a signal of growing cultural interest in the country and its people. The people of the country will consider it as a sign of getting closer. This can break the barriers of culture that can often inhibit business initiatives. Indeed, learning the Chinese language does not guarantee your success in business but it can show you the way to success.

Learn Chinese in America

As Westerners are eager to learn Mandarin Chinese, the government of China has also taken a keen interest in making the language easily accessible in the western countries especially in the U.S. Mandarin is being popularized in the U.S. through special initiatives of the Chinese government. The Government of China has offered subsidies to quite a few American Universities and high schools for teaching the language. This is a measure that the Chinese government has taken to strengthen its soft power in places that can influence the country’s economy. A basic knowledge of the language makes it easier and indeed more interesting for people to start their business in China.

It’s taught in Singapore too

There are quite a few other places where you get the opportunity of learning the Chinese language. Singapore has been a prime location for learning Chinese fast and effectively. There are institutes dedicated to teaching mandarin and you can even avail the facility of a home Chinese tutor Singapore. The home-tutoring option offers a more dedicated learning process for the non-Mandarin speakers who are looking for one-on-one, expert guidance.  Since the population of Singapore is dominated by people of Chinese origin, almost 74% of the population is Chinese but only a slim fraction speaks fluent Mandarin Chinese. It is no surprise that the demand for learning Chinese is quite high in this country. Chinese is one of the most spoken languages in Singapore. As a matter of fact, it is one of its national languages along with English, Malay and Tamil. As more and more westerners are moving to Singapore for lucrative job opportunities, the demand for in-home Chinese language tutors and grooming classes are also steadily increasing.

Business can spread far and wide

Learning Mandarin Chinese is a wonderful way to expand your business horizons. Mandarin Chinese is undoubtedly a difficult language to master. It might not be even possible for you to speak it fluently in the first couple of months. But with time, you will realize the immense advantages of knowing the language once you start making trips to the east for business purposes. This will contribute to the interactions with people on the ground and it can give your business the much needed boost on foreign soil. You will be able to penetrate deeper into the country and understand the nuances of the Chinese culture, instead of catering to the Tier 1 and Tier 2 cities where English is selectively accepted.

Tier 3 and tier 4 cities are gradually coming up with fresh business opportunities and virgin territories where western business can spread without bounds. But the only requirement for these tier 3 and tier 4 cities is fluency in the Chinese languages. English is rarely understood or appreciated in these cities.

Add an extra charm to public speaking

Believe it or not, most Fortune 500 company CEOs are running after Mandarin lessons after Mark Zuckerberg unveiled his expertise in the language. This is especially rewarding if you are looking forward to presenting a slideshow or speaking at a seminar in any city of China. Standing up in front of a crowd can be frightening, and it can be even more frightening if you don’t understand a word they are speaking. So learning Mandarin if you are looking for a speaker’s job in the orient is definitely a smart move if you want to woo the crowd and make sure they listen to what you have to say.

Business might appear to be restricted to formal meetings but its seeds are sown during informal interactions with your business partners. Cocktail dinners, pool-side extravaganzas, and golf games have seen more business contracts being sealed than corporate conference rooms with an artificial environment. Speaking in their language gives you the advantage of working your way into their hearts with ease. Better bonding results in better business, and there’s no better way to bond with a person than speaking with him/her in his/her mother tongue.

Conclusion

China is already the second-largest economy in the world and it’s no wonder, Mandarin has grown to be the second most popular language as well. All smart entrepreneurs of the day are taking special classes to learn Mandarin, and fast! Mandarin will soon become quite mandatory for all businessmen looking to get a foothold in China.