Broken Arm Research Articles

Art and the Category of Being Aesthetic: A Neo-Wittgensteinian Account

For centuries, in the Western world, it was usually clear whether or not something was art, but this is no longer the case. Modern art has been put forward to raise the issue of what art is, leaving both art experts and average people in need of a definition of ‘‘art.’’ If Marcel Duchamp can make a urinal art by titling it Fountain and putting it on display, then what is art? Modern artworks such as Fountain expose the shortcomings in traditional ways of defining art with necessary and sufficient conditions in terms of form, imitation, representation, expression, or aesthetic appeal. Art is an open concept, subject to ongoing development. Realizing this, Morris Weitz proposed accounting for art in terms of Wittgenstein’s notion of family resemblance. But because nearly everything resembles nearly everything else to at least some degree, family resemblance has long been considered a dead-end way of accounting for art. If Duchamp’s In Advance of the Broken Arm is a work of art, then so is a shovel in a garage. Duchamp defies the tradition but he cannot escape the resemblance, and in fact he draws nearly everything else into the resemblance. Daniel A. Kaufman, however, has resurrected the notion of family resemblance against the New Wave of theorists who trot out ever more technically sophisticated definitions of art, specifying necessary and sufficient conditions. Likewise, Berys

Imprints

Imprints Sheri Joseph (bio) In July, the children arrived. Two buses descended upon the camp, bumping along a mile of rutted dirt road through the Michigan woods before releasing them at the lodge, boys and girls of middle-school age, let out like insects from yellow jars. Maria, braced against her dread, was grateful for the college students rounding them up, grateful that her own contact with them would not amount to much. This was the second group of week campers to invade her temporary home, the long, rickety lodge that sprawled like a broken arm on a cushion of pine needles. Before July, she'd lived in it alone, contending with day groups or the occasional weekend group but otherwise going about her work in pleasant solitude. From the lodge window, she watched the swarm and estimated the numbers: twenty-odd girls, the same number of boys, three counselors for each. At most, it worked out to eight children per counselor. That seemed adequate. She wished, nonetheless, that each one would marshal his or her eight into a line, make some visible claim of responsibility. Only Percy, the one counselor she knew because he was a local and hung around between camps, had his group stilled and waiting. Maybe the children recognized him from past summers, with his ubiquitous straw cowboy hat and molasses gestures. A few words, a crook of a finger, and they came running, while the college kids hollered. From across the yard, Percy caught Maria watching and gave her a wink over the tops of his orange-tinted sunglasses. The kitchen, normally empty, resounded with the clatterings of the camp cook, Shirl. Her husband, Jacob, the handyman, power-fully heavy in his lumberjack attire and long yellow beard, hauled boxes from his truck to the kitchen. He offered no answer to his wife's shouted questions about where was the griddle and how many eggs—opened his mouth, in fact, so rarely to speak that Maria thought of the beard as having grown uninterrupted over his mouth like a fine-stranded moss. [End Page 26] She said hello to Shirl as she passed through toward the Staff Only door that opened into the greenhouse, her wildlife hospital. "Hey there, honey," Shirl greeted her. She wore a flowing muumuu and had three chins. Maria was certain she was treated to Shirl's endearments because Shirl didn't remember her name. "You still got those animals off my kitchen?" She was only half teasing. "I tell you, the health inspector's gonna show up one of these days and shut us all down on the spot." "I know," Maria said, smiling, thinking would you like me to pick up the greenhouse and move it? "Talk to the director," she said. "He tells me where the animals go, and that's where I put them." Shirl leveled a jocular glare. "Somebody oughta be ashamed of this place, honestly. All falling apart, ramshackle rooms tacked on every which way, full of animals. I can't say I'd want to send my kids here." "Me neither," Maria said, as if the speculation applied. Leaving Shirl to her kitchen, she shut the door and descended the steps. In the greenhouse it was almost as bright as daylight. Old wooden tables laden with boxes lined the near wall of a narrow passage to the outside door, followed by a set of double-tiered, stainless-steel hospital cages. Along the opposite wall, ceiling-high cages full of squirrels and opossums and long flights full of fledgling songbirds had been cheaply constructed from various gauges of wire stapled to plywood frames. Her education birds—a crow, a kestrel, and a great horned owl—sat tethered out in the open gravel between the flights, perched on Astroturf-covered stumps. They greeted her as she entered: the crow with a low, begging caw; the kestrel with his nervous, bell-like alarm; and the owl with a placid blink of yellow eyes and the pattering clack of her beak. Maria peeked into one of the lower hospital cages to see if her sickly fawn was still alive. (Wouldn't eat, wouldn't eat, until Maria had...

Who Will Die Tomorrow?

Who Will Die Tomorrow? Ted Gross Author 's introduction When the second Intifada (meaning “uprising”) rained down upon Israel in the year 2000, a protracted terrorist war broke out in which hundreds of innocent civilians were murdered, coming to its end when Israel finally invaded many Palestinian towns and villages in Operation Defensive Shield during the last days of March 2002. Our unit, in which I have served as a battlefield medic for over twenty years, was called up immediately. Due to our expertise in warfare within towns and cities, where trained armored foot soldiers must do most of the fighting, we were sent to Jenin. On March 8, 2002, three weeks before Operation Defensive Shield began, the following event took place. In the town of Atzmona where a Yeshiva (Jewish Study Center) had been built, a terrorist managed to infiltrate the defenses of the town during the day and went into hiding until late that night. Afterwards he cut the fence into the school grounds, which were divided into a study hall and dormitories. The terrorist started his rampage of killing in the dormitories, where he killed three 19‐year‐old students. He then made his way to the study hall and with a combination of bullets and grenades he left twenty injured, some paralyzed for life. When it was over and the terrorist was killed by an off‐duty Israeli soldier home for the weekend, my future son‐in‐law was one of the injured with shrapnel all over his body and a broken arm. The following are the events which took place on the night of March 8th, 2002, in Jerusalem far away from the death and devastation left by the lone terrorist. It always seems to begin with a phone call in the middle of the night. Possibly within the scheme of things, the divine scheme, if there is such a notion as a divine scheme, no hour or minute takes precedence over the other. Yet vindictive fate is jealous of those peaceful hours during sleep’s forgetfulness, and with calculated spite destroys our stolen tranquility. That night, actually early morning of March 8th, more than three weeks before Jenin would enter into the scheme of things, I fell asleep on the couch. On those nights when the body refuses to find sleep’s pleasure in bed and its magic lure fills me with fear, I gravitate to that couch. Some may call it an inner voice, or a message that the soul receives but the brain refuses to recognize. Still, when the couch beckons and the body acquiesces to its call by falling into a deep troubled sleep, an inner ear is always listening for soft, ghostly footfalls during dream’s pandemonium. A ring of the cell phone at 2 a.m. Instantly and completely awake, adrenalin surging, blood pumping wildly its echo in my inner ear. With three rings to answer before voice‐messaging takes control, the “Hello” comes out at the end of the second. Ted? It is Debbie, my ex‐wife. You don’t live with a woman for twenty‐two years without learning the nuances in her voice. “What happened?” I asked, realizing how stupid that sounded. Of course something happened. Did you hear about the terrorist attack? Debbie knows I don’t react well to surprises. Good or bad. Her voice, that tone, tells me she does not have time. Yet she was trying her best not to just come out with it. Giving a chance to acclimate and the brain to react without immobilizing panic. We have had seven children together. Six are still alive. Sharing that roller coaster to hell and back together and separately, I immediately wonder if six has just become five. Morbid thoughts always ready for that “something else” to happen. Always expecting it. What attack? “In Atzmona,” Debbie answers and then stops waiting for that to sink in. The brain does a quick check. Six kids but none even near Atzmona. The two little ones are sleeping upstairs. What the hell is this about? Debbie knows I have not made the connection. So she rushes on, no time left. Eli is still alive but...

Is there more to life? Relationalities in here and out there: a reply to Horton and Kraftl

AreaVolume 40, Issue 2 p. 289-292 Is there more to life? Relationalities in here and out there: a reply to Horton and Kraftl Peter Hopkins, Peter Hopkins School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, Newcastle University, Newcastle NE1 7RU Email: [email protected]Search for more papers by this authorRachel Pain, Rachel Pain Department of Geography, Durham University, Durham DH1 3LESearch for more papers by this author Peter Hopkins, Peter Hopkins School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, Newcastle University, Newcastle NE1 7RU Email: [email protected]Search for more papers by this authorRachel Pain, Rachel Pain Department of Geography, Durham University, Durham DH1 3LESearch for more papers by this author First published: 28 June 2008 https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1475-4762.2008.00819.xCitations: 6Read the full textAboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditWechat Citing Literature Volume40, Issue2June 2008Pages 289-292 RelatedInformation

Tall Tales (review)

Reviewed by: Tall Tales Deborah Stevenson Day, Karen Tall Tales. Lamb, 2007229p Library ed. ISBN 0-375-93773-0$18.99 Trade ed. ISBN 0-375-83773-6$15.99 R Gr. 5-7 Before Meg's family moved, her father promised that he'd stop drinking. Now twelve-year-old Meg is stuck in a new school and she's finally making a friend in sweet and popular Grace Bennett, but she's got the same old father, angry, violent, and alcoholic. To save her pride and to abide by her mother's wish that their problems stay family business, Meg invents tales about her family and history that explain their repeated moves, her unwillingness to let people into the house, and, as things deteriorate, her mother's bruises and her brother's broken arm. The story's elements are predictable in the extreme, but such dysfunctional situations do tend to follow familiar patterns, and the story's messages are blessedly subtle rather than heavy-handed. There's some real creativity in the characters, especially Grace, who just wants people to get along, and her family; Day also gives full credit to the complexity of Meg's emotions, making her father's eventual departure a genuinely sad scene despite the necessity of the action. Just about every kid can relate to the desire to cover up family flaws, so they'll understand Meg's dilemma and they'll be glad to see her reach better times. Copyright © 2007 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

The Isabel Factor (review)

Reviewed by: The Isabel Factor Deborah Stevenson Friesen, Gayle The Isabel Factor. Kids Can, 2005252p Trade ed. ISBN 1-55337-737-0$16.95 Paper ed. ISBN 1-55337-738-9$6.95 R Gr. 7-10 Anna was supposed to be attending camp as a counselor-in-training along with her best friend, Zoe, but headstrong, impulsive Zoe has stayed behind with a broken arm, leaving Anna for once to deal with her fellow cabinmates independently rather than as Zoe's sidekick. The cabin dynamic is further cause for anxiety, since Anna finds herself drawn to the offbeat, unconcerned Isabel, while bossy cabin leader Jennifer fumes at Isabel's immunity to team spirit and resents Anna's failure to shun her. Zoe's belated appearance complicates matter further, since a jealous and competitive Zoe sides with Jennifer rather than supporting her best friend. Friesen is a stylish writer with easygoing wit, but she never undercuts Anna's narration with superficial comedy. Anna herself is self-aware ("'Does everybody have to like you, Anna?' Yes, I think. Yes, they do. This is pretty much the one thing that I know for sure") but not necessarily self-knowing, determinedly overlooking the way she holds back to grant Zoe primacy; the credibly magnetic Zoe is a disappointing friend but no villain, since her appeal as a friend is clear and her dereliction of friendship duty is treated perceptively rather than dismissively. Hunky Karim adds not only landscape value but also plot development, since as swim counselor he's Anna's often-demanding supervisor, and he's been keenly aware of her willful submission to Zoe in the swim lanes. Friesen kindly allows Anna to make some serious mistakes [End Page 88] along the way and learn her lesson without losing Zoe or Isabel (and maybe gaining Karim), thus making the experience more significant than the possible regrets. Aside from being an enjoyable read, this may cause similarly self-underestimating readers to reconsider their own strengths—a good thing indeed. Copyright © 2005 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Sound Message, Persistence Get Results in Oregon

Sound Message, Persistence Get Results in Oregon

Remembering Katharine Newman

After earning my doctorate in 1978, I sought out professional organizations related to my career as a specialist in nineteenth-century American and African American writing and joined such established groups as the Modern Language Association (MLA), its regional affiliate the South Atlantic Modern Language Association (SAMLA), and their African American counterpart the decades-old College Language Association (CLA), as well as a new, little-known group called the Society for the Study of the Multi-Ethnic Literature of the United States (MELUS). This brainchild of the late Katharine Newman and her American literature colleagues radically criticized the lack of racial, ethnic, gender, and religious diversity that was the unfortunate hallmark, in those days, of the MLA. Katharine and her group quickly caught my attention because I had just experienced an American education largely designed to legitimize the literary productions of white men, who essentially ignored or were mostly wrong about people like me in their texts. After joining I used a general-interest questionnaire from Katharine to ask why so few black intellectuals held leadership roles in her own organization, and she answered by challenging me to become involved in its development and help them devise strategies for making the literary canon of the United States more inclusive and accurate, tasks that have engaged my intellectual energy to this day. In the process, I enjoyed learning about MELUS in the early 1970s, shared its founders' outrage over MLA parochialism, and was inspired by Katharine's dreams and enthusiasm. Katharine Newman or Mother MELUS, as she became known to us, kept me motivated and active in this movement less for political and more for scholarly understanding in American writing, saying that she knew MELUS would remain healthy as long as I remained concerned. Over the years, that meant I organized and presented papers on scholarly panels, published a variety of works reflecting MELUS values, and was elected secretary (1986-88) and then president (1988-92) of the ever-growing organization. At the 1982 MLA Convention held in San Francisco, I first met Katharine in person, after presenting an essay on a panel organized by the late Amy Ling and including Paula Gunn Allen, Reuben Rios, and Shirley Lim. At this time, there existed no Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, or Toni Morrison Societies, Charles Chesnutt Association, Richard Wright Circle, or even an MLA Division on Black American Literature and Culture. Indeed, R. Baxter Miller attended and solicited signatures at our 1982 MLA session to help found the latter. When MLA finally ratified this Division, I immediately joined it but never left MELUS because Katharine Newman shocked me by being the first white literary scholar I ever met who seemed unafraid of human racial and ethnic diversity. I had grown up in Franklin, Virginia, among whites so insecure in the presence of peoples with color that they demanded strict segregation in housing, education, transportation, and religion--in virtually every aspect of life. I found it difficult to believe that white people who were as emotionally accepting of the humanity of others as Katherine was, actually existed. But she was not intimidated by colored skin or much else in life, showing typical determination when, as an elderly, arthritic woman with a broken arm, she flew alone from California to North Carolina to attend the 1989 MELUS Conference at East Carolina University. Indeed, she regarded MELUS as a community of scholars of all racial, ethnic, and gender backgrounds who spoke and wrote from their various perspectives about uniquely American experiences. For her, there was no question about the legitimacy of these experiences, as had been the case in my formal education; she knew that the American story would not be properly told unless scholars placed our myriad voices and languages before the world's audience. …

The effect of case management on glycemic control in patients with type 2 diabetes

Diabetes is a chronic yet controllable disease. It is not like a broken arm; it cannot be seen and will never heal completely. Although people can live long, full lives with diabetes, the disease will affect their and their family's lifestyles. However, diabetics can take comfort in knowing that diabetes is one disease over which they, given the appropriate tools, can exercise enormous control. 1 Case management (CM) of diabetic care that ensures appropriate therapy, based on the American Diabetes Association's (ADA) Clinical Practice Recommendations, effectively optimizes diabetic health and slows the progression of complications. 2 Fewer complications mean fewer resources are used and the overall cost of long-term care is decreased.

Children's concepts of illness: an intervention to improve knowledge.

This study aimed to explore children's understanding of illness and attempted to improve their knowledge through the presentation of a factual story and group discussions. Children's responses to questions pertaining to three ailment types (contagious illness, non-contagious illness and injury), for three process variables (cause, time from cause to effect, and recovery factors), were recorded before and after a training intervention. Children aged 4 (N=30) and 7 years old (N=30) were initially individually interviewed about common ailments (contagious: chickenpox and cold; non-contagious: asthma and cancer; injury: scraped knee and broken arm). A week later half of the children in each age group (N=30) were included in a small group (N=5) intervention where factual information about three of the ailments was provided and children participated in guided group discussions. The remaining control children received no intervention. All children were subsequently individually interviewed a week later using the initial interview schedule. The 7-year-olds exhibited more sophisticated knowledge of illness at pre-test than the 4-year-olds. Comparison of pre- to post-intervention changes showed that children who participated in the intervention condition improved overall in their understanding of the ailments significantly more than controls. However, detailed analyses revealed a large degree of variation across the sample in terms of post-test change for individual items. Children's understanding of illness is complex and undergoes developmental changes between the ages of 4 and 7. Educational interventions that provide age-appropriate factual information and peer group discussions regarding illness processes might be effective in improving knowledge of illness among young children.

The Relationship between Homology Length and Crossing Over during the Repair of a Broken Chromosome

Homologous recombination can result in the transfer of genetic information from one DNA molecule to another (gene conversion). These events are often accompanied by a reciprocal exchange between the interacting molecules (termed "crossing over"). This association suggests that the two types of events could be mechanistically related. We have analyzed the repair, by homologous recombination, of a broken chromosome in yeast. We show that gene conversion can be uncoupled from crossing over when the length of homology of the interacting substrates is below a certain threshold. In addition, a minimal length of homology on each broken chromosomal arm is needed for crossing over. We also show that the coupling between gene conversion and crossing over is affected by the mismatch repair system; mutations in the MSH2 or MSH6 genes cause an increase in the crossing over observed for short alleles. Our results provide a mechanism to explain how chromosomal recombinational repair can take place without altering the stability of the genome.

Cautionary tales: Blessed is he who cometh last to the case

“There's no point in asking him if it's broken.” My credibility is in tatters. I've missed another fracture on the football pitch, this time a spiral fracture of the tibial shaft. Despite advancing age and declining ability I still enjoy football weekly (or should that be weakly) with non-medical friends. Whenever there's an injury the “doc” is always summoned despite the fact that I completed a surgical training devoid of elective orthopaedics. Casualty experience is but a dim memory but, like most medics, I still reckon that I can spot a broken arm or leg. I have …

The people's doctor: George Hatem and China's revolution

The young George Hatem journeyed to Shanghai in 1933 to practice medicine and see the sights. The deplorable health and social conditions he found there caused his sympathies to veer quickly to the revolutionary efforts of the Chinese Communist Party, and before long he joined underground Party members in conspiratorial meetings and activities. In 1936 he left Shanghai on a secret mission to China's Red Army, which was then settling in Shaanxi Province after completing the Long March. For the next fourteen years, Hatem served the Communist troops as physician and advisor. He took the name Ma Haide and became the first foreigner admitted into China's Communist Party. After the Communist victory in 1949, he became the first foreigner granted citizenship in the People's Republic. Over the next forty years, his reputation grew as one of the leading public health physicians in the world. Along the way he played Ping-Pong with Mao, tended to Zhou Enlai's broken arm, cared for Dr. Sun Yat-sen's widow on her deathbed, and spearheaded China's effort to eradicate leprosy and venereal disease. Until his death in 1988, he showed absolute allegiance to the Party. Few foreigners have been accepted into Chinese society as readily and appreciatively as he and certainly none have had such intimate access to twentieth-century China's most powerful figures.

The Relationship of Empathy to Moral Reasoning in First-Year Medical Students

The Norman Rockwell image of the American physician who fixed the broken arm of a child, treated the father for hypertension, and brought an unborn child into this world is now almost nonexistent. Since the time of the Rockwell portrait, a highly technical medical industry has evolved. Now two-thirds of physicians are board certified in subspecialties, and patients visit an average of 3–4 different physicians per year. Today's physicians see themselves less as “benevolent and wise counselors overseeing the patient's welfare and more as objective scientists applying the latest technical methods to bring about the desired end.” The intimate patient-physician relationship that was once the norm in our society is rapidly disappearing.

With Her Broken Arm

With Her Broken Arm

Narrative Subject, Historic Subject: Shoah and La Place de l'Etoile

A broken writes Reverdy, a real fact, but think and of my broken arm is not at all some other person thinks and knows of his broken arm, or of mine. As for those who have never had a broken arm, realized that they do not an arm is, any more than did before broke mine (Reverdy 1956: 32). There it is, a truism, of course: can tell my doctor where hurt; can even describe my pain with some degree of accuracy, but cannot make him feel it. My broken arm reminds me of my ineluctable singularity, my essential alienation. Furthermore, as long as abide by this essential singularity, escape my own thought, which can only operate from universals; also escape the grasp of others, of culture, of language, and of history. It is a question therefore of thought and knowledge, of I think and know as well as what another thinks and knows. More precisely, it is a question of separates my thought and my knowledge from my experience on the one hand, and, on the other, from the thought, knowledge, and experience of someone else. In other words, we are dealing with the universalization of my subjectivity through its communication. This in turn can only be achieved in and through lan-

The Case of Donnie J

Mrs J has brought her 4-1/2-year-old son Donnie to your office for a first visit. She and her son have moved recently into your community, and she heard that you were the best pediatrician in town. At present, Donnie has no complaints. He looks healthy and is comfortable with both his mother and you during the interview. You learn that Donnie has had no medical care since he was 2 years old, when he was hospitalized for a broken arm after he fell out of a tree. His mother has lost his immunization records, but thinks he has had all of his shots. Donnie was the product of a normal full-term pregnancy with no complications at the time of delivery. His mother reports that she is unmarried and has been a "dead head" (a follower of the musical group "The Grateful Dead") for 14 years. She says that she has had many sexual partners and has used a variety of drugs before, during, and after pregnancy. She is presently living only with Donnie. In reviewing the patient's history to this point, what points should alert you to potential problems with Donnie? 1. Immunization status. 2. Previous serious accident. 3. Potential prenatal exposure to human immunodeficiency virus.

A Straight Roof Requires a Straight Ridgepole

A homicide section chief by the name of Mao of a certain local branch of the Public Security Bureau, in a meeting before the interrogation of prisoners, told his men: "Remember the land reform? Give it all you've got—a broken arm or leg is no big deal. The only thing that matters is that they're still breathing when we hand them to the courts; we wouldn't want these people to take their cases with them into the next world." This man was quoting the spirit of a talk he had with a deputy division chief of the municipal public security bureau. He went on: "Before, when we asked you not to beat up prisoners, you would do so. Now I'm asking you to beat them up, and you're scared. Don't be. Feel free to do what you have to do." Armed with this "pep talk, " interrogators in six different rooms that night used unrestrained force, with the result that one interrogator, Xiong, caused the death of a prisoner named An.

Vestiges of the Past: The Role of the Grandmother in Contemporary Yucatec Literature

In the Popol Vuh, Xmukane', the old moon goddess, is a very imposing and extremely important figure in illo tempore.' She not only acts with other deities in the formation of the earth and its inhabitants, but she is the star actress when it comes to the creation of the corn men. On the other hand, she is also associated with death as evidenced when she cleverly kills Wucub Cac'ix. She also has a religious nature seen in her roles of a diviner, exemplified when she and Xpiyacoc divine with beans and corn in preparation for the creation of people, and a priestess, illustrated in the corn ritual and the rite of the con andnine beverages. In addition, Xmukane' was a doctor who treated Wucub Cac'ix's bad teeth and Hun Ajpu's broken arm. Finally, this goddess, who was a mother and a grandmother in the primordial era, had the responsibility of establishing rules of behavior for mankind to follow. To distinguish the roles of Xmukane', let's look briefly at the schemes repeated in her behavior. These schemes will be divided into the categories of religious, judiciary, political, and cultural. In her religious roles she acts together with other gods, provides the substances from which men of the second and third eras are made, and performs religious rites as a diviner, curer, and a priestess. Her position of a rain goddess is indicated when, with her water jar, she accompanies Jun Ajpu and Xbalanque several times to the river and cries when her sons and grandsons leave for Xibalba. Her judiciary roles are making family

Chronic lead poisoning in a two‐year‐old child: A 12‐month follow‐up study

X-ray examination of the broken arm of a two-year-old child demonstrated the presence of lead deposits in the bone. Chelation treatment with calcium-EDTA was undertaken. The results obtained over three months of treatment, and those obtained at the follow-up examination 12 months later are reported. The need to analyse the blood as well as the urine to obtain an accurate measure of lead concentrations is emphasized.