Quiet House Research Articles

Shoulder Season

Shoulder Season

You Are Standing in a Doorway: California, Fall 2020

You Are Standing in a Doorway: California, Fall 2020

View from Quiet House, 2016 | Black Mountain, North Carolina

View from Quiet House, 2016 | Black Mountain, North Carolina

Kırgızistan’da Telekomünikasyon Ağları Aracılığıyla İntihar Olayları

With the development of telecommunication networks , in recent years it has been seen the psychological terrorism against to people and society. Especially the one of the method of psychological terrorism has been emerged as the “ death games ” or in other words the “ death groups ” . The death games are games that aimed to driving to suicide or provoking suicide the children by playing games in social media sites. These death games have been played by some children in our country and create a big “ echo ” in Kyrgyzstan. Between 2015-2018 years these death games have became an extraordinary and have taken place in Russia , Ukraine and later in that countries such as Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan as well. Consequently, many children and families were victims of these kind of games. In Russia about 130 children ’s suicide were committed through death games and about 40 children were rescued from the death games in the Kyrgyz Republic. As the most popular death games after the “ blue whale ” are: “ wake me up at 04.20 am ”,“ quiet house ”,“ I am in the game ”, “ f57 ”,“ dead souls ”, “ Milky Way ” . And in recent days , as a newly added games are: “ momo ”,“ burn your friend ”,“ disappear for 24 hours ”,“ run or die ” . But most of them , the most popular “ blue whale ” game has been reported in Europe , Brazil , even in the nearest period in Turkey as well. Therefore, due to such events that occurred in Kyrgyzstan and in order to take serious legal measures in the future, The Kyrgyz Criminal Code should rearrange some items such as Driving to suicide (article 136 of Kyrgyz Criminal Code) and Provoking suicide (article 137 of Kyrgyz Criminal Code). But particularly, it need to add a new regulations such as a “ crime that take place by public activity ” or “ through mass communications ” or by “ telecommunication information networks (internet) ” . The aim of this research are: describe the bad effects of death games that driving children to suicide trough the social media sites , describe the measures to protect children of them and the necessity of creating a new legal regulations.

Ultrasparse Acoustic Absorbers Enabling Fluid Flow and Visible-Light Controls

Although conventional acoustic absorbers work well for noise suppression, they also block fluid (air) flow and visible light, which is inconvenient if $e.g.$ one wants a quiet house near a busy road. This study uses sparsely arranged acoustic resonators that permit fluid flow yet effectively prevent sound propagation. Furthermore, when such a sparse absorber is combined with optical cloaking technology, it can be transparent to the eye. This approach enables innovative applications of multifunctional acoustic metamaterials.

Everybody Else: Adoption and the Politics of Domestic Diversity in Postwar America

In the popular imagination, the twenty years after World War II are associated with simpler, happier, more family-focused living. We think of stereotypical baby boom families like the Cleavers - white, suburban, and well on their way to middle-class affluence. For these couples and their children, a happy, stable family life provided an antidote to the anxieties and uncertainties of the emerging nuclear age. But not everyone looked or lived like the Cleavers. For those who could not have children, or have as many children as they wanted, the postwar baby boom proved a source of social stigma and personal pain. Further, in 1950 roughly one in three Americans made below middle-class incomes, and over fifteen million lived under Jim Crow segregation. For these individuals, home life was not an oasis but a challenge, intimately connected to the era's many political and social upheavals. Everybody Else provides a comparative analysis of diverse postwar families and examines the lives and case records of men and women who applied to adopt or provide pre-adoptive foster care in the 1940s and 1950s. It considers an array of individuals - both black and white, middle and working class - who found themselves on the margins of a social world that privileged family membership. These couples wanted adoptive and foster children in order to achieve a sense of personal mission and meaning, as well as a deeper feeling of belonging to their communities. But their quest for parenthood also highlighted the many inequities of that era. These individuals' experiences seeking children reveal that the baby boom family was about much more than togetherness or a quiet house in the suburbs; it also shaped people's ideas about the promises and perils of getting ahead in postwar America.

Hunting for Reasons to Hope: A Conversation with Wendell Berry

Interviewer's Note: Much of Kentucky around Louisville is fairly flat, but as we venture eastward toward Henry County, where Wendell Berry's farm is located, little by little the land takes on a more rugged and hilly aspect. By the time we turn off the freeway, heading due south onto a curvy two-lane country road, it almost seems mountainous. Berry's farmhouse is set upon a hillside, overlooking the road and a wide river valley beyond it. Arrivals must pull up the steep driveway toward a dusty, heavily-used pickup truck. On the hillside next to the house is a flock of sheep; large bees hum lazily past. It is hot and steamy, the week after Independence Day 2006, and besides the bees almost nothing is stirring on this Sunday afternoon. Getting out of the car, looking upward toward the quiet house, the first sign of life we see is a small, friendly black dog, unleashed, that approaches us with winsome tail wagging away. A large man, decked out in work shirt, soiled trousers, and heavy boots, appears on the white porch, raising an arm and shouting a welcome. We climb up the hill toward Wendell Berry and his wife, Tanya, expecting to enjoy a full afternoon in the company of one of our nation's legendary writers and activists. Some of the great discoveries of my graduate education, back in the early 1990s, were the various works of Wendell Berry. remember specifically the peaceful feeling got when read the first poem from his collection, Sabbaths (1987): I go among trees and sit still. / All my stirring becomes quiet / around me like circles on water. was immediately drawn into the calm beauty of the forest by the calm beauty of Berry's controlled yet seemingly effortless language. also recall a distinct feeling of empowerment after reading a few of his essays early on. Among them was the wonderfully titled The Joy of Sales Resistance, the preface to Sex, Economy, Freedom & Community (1992), which prophetically spelled out in very simple terms some of the persistent themes of his writing over many decades. went on from there to become an avid reader of Wendell Berry, and it was quite an honor finally to meet him during the 2005 MLA Convention in Washington D.C., where he was presented with the Conference on Christianity and Literature's Lifetime Achievement Award. During that luncheon, was struck mostly by his thoroughly endearing sense of humor. Here was a man, learned very quickly, who still loves a good story and a knee-slapping laugh. We swapped tall tales and puns like hungry fur trappers in the Old Northwest. was so drawn to him that found the pluck to ask him if it might be possible to visit him come spring or summer, and interview him at his Kentucky to which he graciously said yes. What follows is some of the talk we had on that humid summer afternoon, seated in his kitchen under a ceiling fan (it's the coolest place on the farm, said Tanya), with both of our wives in attendance and taking part in the conversation as well--which seemed fitting for a bright and welcoming country kitchen. HKB: When look at the list of past winners of the Lifetime Award for CCL, see names like Czeslaw Milosz, Denise Levertov, Wayne Booth, Richard Wilbur, Cleanth Brooks. wonder how it feels to be named with authors of that caliber? WB: Of course, those are people respect very much. Denise Levertov knew and loved. Well, it's very confirming to have people respect your work. On the other hand, can't say that my chief motive in the work is to be honored. That's not something can afford to think a great deal about. have to think about what I'm doing and what have ahead of me, what's required of me, or what seems to be required of me. Being honored is not something I'm willing to allow to take up a lot of room in my mind. But it's confirming; it's like a foothold maybe, and I'm grateful for it. HKB: How do you see your contribution to the flow of American literary history, or how do you fit into American literary history as a whole? …

In the Quiet House

Charlotte, North Carolina Nigerian-born author Tanure Ojaide currently teaches at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. He has published a dozen collections of poems; his latest include the Kingdom of Songs (2001) and I Want to Dance and Other Poems (2003). He has won, among other awards, the Commonwealth Poetry Prize for the Africa region (1987), the All-Africa Okigbo Prize for Poetry (1988, 1994), and the Association of Nigerian Authors' Poetry Award (1988, 1997). In the Quiet will appear in the verse collection the House of Words, due to be published by Malthouse Press, Lagos, in 2004.

Cardinal Points

CARDINAL POINTS / Michael Pettit At the round earth's imagined corners blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise . . . John Donne This is that one morning each long summer I wait for, waking early to find the air in my dark room cool, finding on this late August morning renewal in a breeze from Canada, arrived here to revive me, to lift my spirit like a leaf fluttering from the heat-weary trees outside, ihe pecans, poplars and oaks hanging over 13th Street, Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Awake, I rise with the voice of my daughter, who can sense daybreak approaching and is all through sleeping peacefully in her crib: under the wild galaxy of painted wooden stars and planets, hand-made angels and birds revolving together like a dream beyond her reach, she looks up at me—beaming, ready. And so I lift her out, past the yellow lightning bolt, past space ship and shooting star up into the skies and against my heart, rattling its crib of ribs. She settles there, warm, and in one another's arms we travel through the quiet house down the long shadowy hall to the front porch to the red hammock where we swing in the chilly dove-gray light and watch the world come to life. Down 13th Street an old ragpicker drags his sack of valuables from can to can, rifling garbage and waving as the paperboy rides by, winging the news onto the neighbors' lawns, papers 34 · The Missouri Review gathering light, glowing fat and white until the neighbors in their robes and slippers appear and disappear, enlightened. Above them, rightside up then upside down, a gray squirrel runs the telephone lines, leaping to the thin branches of a live oak he rattles with all his might, awakening songbirds, cardinals and mockingbirds that whistle greetings back and forth, back and forth as I tell Emily, on this first cool morning of her life, of the heavens and earth. Pink, grinning, quizzical, she listens, or seems to, to facts I remember or invent about stars: number, size, intensity, color. Millions beyond those few thousand the clearest summer night shows, red, yellow, white or blue they burn, their burning their being. They live as distant lights, and I give Emily names of constellations we can see—Cassiopeia, Lyra, Pegasus—and the names of constellations we can't—Nirvana, Valhalla, Heaven. At this or any hour no telescope will do: she must have faith in God, Brahma, Buddha, in Zeus, Odin, Allah. Faith Seraphim have six wings and surround the throne of Glory chanting holy holy holy, faith that below the Seraphim are Cherubim, Powers, Dominions, Thrones, Archangels, Angels. I tell her there are angels over the tame and wild beasts, over humanity, angels of annihilation and ascension, angels of clouds, dawn, flame, rarified air, thunder, terror, rains and rivers. There is Raphael, angel of joy and knowledge, and Michael the angel of chaos. There are angels of mysteries, patience, sanctification, angels of the abstract and concrete, one angel hovering over every green thing on earth, saying Grow. Michael Pettit THE MISSOURI REVIEW · 35 There is no reason not to so she believes me, and babbles her long vowels over and over and makes a sound that sounds like day. It's astonishing she has come to me. Under our angels together in our hammock we rock the sun up above the trees as I point out to Emily east, first of the five cardinal points, the round world's four directions and inward. Look east and there you'll see our star, that warms us, lights us and everything else—trees, houses, streets, beer can blinking in the gutter, spider webs shimmering in the St. Augustine, gleam of light on the wind-flicked leaves— our star turning the world its colors. See, I say, nothing's untouched. In our slow spinning round, we extend from tiny Mercury and moony Jupiter to Pluto, icy in its distant orbit. And beyond. Yet we are not stars. Out there in the deep purple red hot comets whistle along, no one to hear, nothing but the stray meteor or satellite sent rocketing up from down here, from the...

The Brontë Parsonage Museum

In presenting my report for the past year, I consider one of the chief points on which the Society may congratulate itself is the large increase in the number of visitors to the Museum during the year—a total of 13,661. It may be of interest to know that of this number 1,828 came during the Easter vacation and 1,237 at Whitsuntide.One of the most outstanding events of the year took place on June 7th (incidentally, the 77th anniversary of the death of the Rev. Patrick Bronte), for on that day, after weeks of preparation, the British Broadcasting Corporation gave a broadcast of twenty-five minutes' duration from the Old Parsonage, under the title of “The Quiet House at Haworth.”

Scientific Worthies: XXXIII—Sir William Huggins, K.C.B.

FAR from the noisy centre of London, in Upper Tulse Hill, there is a quiet house. The welcome accorded to one who has the good fortune to enter at its hospitable doors reminds one of Philernon and Baucis, and the visitor amidst the artistic decorations of the house feels transplanted into another world. In the garden extending far behind the house one sees the astronomical observatory with its dome, and recognises that this is the house of a man of science, not an artist.