REDCap Research Articles

On His Shoulders

I grew up thinking—like many other kids—that dad was wonderful. My brothers and sisters and I would sit in our tree house as he mowed the lawn around us, surprising us by reaching up to grab a toe that had been dangling precariously over the edge. He and mother took us on long driving trips, showing us national parks and state beaches, snow in August in Washington State, the phosphorescence in the Pacific waves. Because I was the youngest, I was always carried on his shoulders as we hiked. I remember vividly hearing him whistle to the birds, and the bright red cap mother knitted that he always wore. With this on, he said, you'll always be able to find me if you wander off. And there was his work. He left the house before I awoke, to go to my dad's hospital to do something I

A piece of my mind. On his shoulders.

I grew up thinking—like many other kids—that my dad was wonderful. My brothers and sisters and I would sit in our tree house as he mowed the lawn around us, surprising us by reaching up to grab a toe that had been dangling precariously over the edge. He and my mother took us on long driving trips, showing us national parks and state beaches, snow in August in Washington State, the phosphorescence in the Pacific waves. Because I was the youngest, I was always carried on his shoulders as we hiked. I remember vividly hearing him whistle to the birds, and the bright red cap my mother knitted that he always wore. "With this on," he said, "you'll always be able to find me if you wander off." And there was his work. He left the house before I awoke, to go to "my dad's hospital" to do something I

William Hazlitt's Reply to Thomas McFarland or Caligula's Red Cap

William Hazlitt's Reply to Thomas McFarland or Caligula's Red Cap

Wert's Blow Up

Wert's Blow Up by Darrell Musick I'd spent Friday night at Grandma's, and she got me up at 7:15 Saturday morning to do a few chores before breakfast. I was glad she did. I'm pretty sure that was the first Saturday in October—the kind of brisk, bright and tranquil country morning that you're happy to miss a little sleep to experience. I went out and fed the chickens and carried in two buckets of coal, .and pretty soon when her whole house was redolent with the collective aroma of coffee, bacon, and biscuits, Grandma, leaning on her crutches over the stove and stirring the gravy, said, "Go bring us up a jar of what you want with the biscuits, and I'll set the table." I regarded breakfast with cozy anticipation as I tiptoed down those six creaky wooden steps. And I thought about that afternoon and the third game of the World Series and about junior varsity basketball practice starting on Monday and the five touchdown passes I threw to that swift, new little black kid Friday morning. Mother had promised to take me to next week's East Tennessee State home football game in reward for making the honor roll my first six weeks term in high school. I tore cobwebs from the top of the apple butter box. Yes, everything was in the toploftiest groove that morning, until gunfire rattled the cellar window. Grandma hollered, "YOOO!" and went jouncing out of the kitchen, her crutches cracking and pounding upon her humpy new linoleum. And leaving my jar of apple butter broken in the dirt, I darted up to the living room and found her already over by the window facing the road with the right curtain pulled back. "Well, I wish to my time I'd never," she whispered disgustedly as I approached the window. "I reckon that fool Wert's gone ravin' distracted." Then I saw him, dressed in a dirty old dark brown suit and a flame red baseball cap, oscillating up the road with a bulky burlap sack slung over his back and brandishing a black .45 high above his head. We watched him take about twelve more staggers before he stopped still and aimed the pistol at a telephone pole near the elbow of the curve ahead. And we both braced ourselves while Wert teetered and swayed with a constipated trigger finger until he finally cross-stepped to the left and toppled down backwards. After Grandma had tried and failed to reach his son-in-law, Hank, and his wife, Virgie, on the phone, we furtively eased on out toward the road, Grandma holding fast to my shoulder. Wert was still lying in the middle of the left lane with his legs locked in a figure four and his arms extended and perpendicular to his stretched-out body. He sure looked lurid behind that iron-blue beard stubble—so pale I thought he might be dead until he suddenly snapped his head around so violently that his Civitan Bombers cap fell off. "Nevermore!" Wert shouted. "No more! I ain't never, no more again, by jiggers. Hee, ha, ha!" Grandma's hand became a vice during Wert's brief spasm, but I was too innocent to be scared. And when I saw the .45 lying free and shiny as licorice on the gray pike, I broke away from Grandma and tore up new ground on the highway running for it. I giggled in a dither when I picked the pistol up ("Falin was 49 barely into his teens when he, bare-handed and in broad daylight, disarmed a homicidal desperado," the legend would begin), but Grandma's expression remained the same as it had been since she first turned away from the window. "Give me that and hush!" she demanded. "There's nothin' funny about this, young 'un." Then she prodded Wert's sack with one of her crutches. "'Pears to be kindlin'. See." I tried a little, but I saw that I couldn't undo the clothesline knot without a real struggle; so I just fondled the bundle. "Yes, 'pears so." "I want you to...

The Red Cap of Liberty: A Study of Dress Worn by French Revolutionary Partisans 1789-94

The Red Cap of Liberty: A Study of Dress Worn by French Revolutionary Partisans 1789-94

Theory of some Quiet Magnetospheric [Phenomena related to the Geomagnetic Tail

THIS is an outline of a theory which correlates four quiet aeronomic phenomena—(1) the ionized plasma in the geomagnetic field, particularly the tail; (2) the maintenance of the polar F region in winter; (3) type A red polar cap aurora; and (4) some aspects of the scattering of solar Lyman alpha radiation (La) into the night sky.

4 Burials

Four types of burials are to be distinguished at the Belcher site. The first group, Burials 1, 4, and 13, were disturbed burials, to the extent that details or relationships were indefinite. The second group, Burials 11 and 12, were in large, wide pits which originated within the primary mound of Mound B, just beneath the red clay cap. The long axes of the pits were on a northeast-southwest line, with the heads directed toward the southwest. The third type, bundle burial, is represented by Burial 21 alone. The fourth and largest group, consisting of all other burials, comprised single and multiple burials in relatively narrow pits which were placed on a northwest-southeast axis, with the heads of the burials directed toward the southeast. This group related to the last two habitation periods, which we have assigned to the Belcher focus.

Carriers. Tariff Limiting Liability of Interstate Carrier Held Inapplicable to Loss of Baggage Entrusted to Red Cap by Passenger during Stopover

Carriers. Tariff Limiting Liability of Interstate Carrier Held Inapplicable to Loss of Baggage Entrusted to Red Cap by Passenger during Stopover