The Pros and Cons of Postponing Childbearing :: Pro Con Essays

The trend to postpone childbearing has resulted in many children having older parents. What do you see as advantages and disadvantages for these children? What benefits and problems might result for parents being older? Advantages for children: -their parents are more relaxed -their parents have more money -their parents are wiser and can teach them more about life Advantages for parents: -they have the means to support the kids -they don't have to miss out on the fun of being young -they are ready to settle down -they are more patient and relaxed with the children -they will have someone to take care of them when they are old Disadvantages for children: -their parents are old and less energetic -their parents do not related as well with them as if they were younger -they may be embarrassed of their parents being old, especially during adolescence -their parents may die and get sick before the children are mature enough to deal with it -they probably wont get to know their grandparents Disadvantages for parents: -Retirement might not be as relaxing -their health may fail before they are done raising their children -their children may be embarrassed of them Write a brief letter to a new parent in which you describe information about games to play with the baby which will reveal the perceptual abilities of the baby. Base your games on current research and tasks from the Brazelton Scale. Dear New Parent,   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Based on current research and tasks from the Brazelton Scale, I would like to recommend games to play with your new baby. These games will reveal the perceptual abilities of the baby. Read books to the baby with simple black and white pictures. Repeat the book checking the baby's responses to your voice and the pictures in the book. Have a rattle for the new baby. Play with the rattle and check the baby's response to the rattle. Reading a story to the baby will also check its response to inanimate visual and auditory stimuli. Play peek-a-boo with the baby. This will test the defensive movements of the baby (place your hands over the baby's eyes as well). As the baby grows older, you can read more visually stimulating books. Eventually, you need to let your baby make its own gaming decisions. Plan a one-week school lunch program for young children based upon information presented in Chapter 6. Monday Grilled Chicken, (skinless and boneless) Baked potato (free of butter and sour cream) Green beans or broccoli Skim milk or chocolate skim milk

To what Extent the Progressive Movement was Successful Essay -- essays

In the beginning of the twentieth century, the economy was booming, new technology flourished. The rapid industrialization brought achievement to the United States, however, it also caused several social problems. Wealth and power were concentrated in the hands of a few, and poverty and political corruption were widespread. As people became aware of these problems, a new reform group was created. Unlike populism, which had been a group of farmers grown desperate as the economy submerged into depression, the new reform movement arose from the educated middle class. These people were known as the progressives. The Progressive Movement was a movement that aimed at solving political, economic, and social problems. The Progressives were people from the middle class who had confidence that they could achieve social progress through political reform. The Progressives sought after changes and improvements in the society through laws and other federal actions. Many progressives thought that the greatest way to reform society was through its schools. Public education had grown rapidly since the Civil War. Progressives had new ideas about the purpose of education. Progressive educators believed that children should learn best by contributing in activities where they can work on projects and learn at their own rate. I thought this idea was a better way of learning because memorizing methods were really stressful and many people have diverse ways of learning: visual, hearing, hands on, and etc. In addition, the Progressives were absolutely correct to improve society by education because by having an education, it will prepare an individual to earn a living, but also to prepare the student to play a useful role in a democratic society. With e... ...icter safety laws, for instance, employees must wash their hands before working. The Women Christian Temperance Union, they fought against liquor, and at this time, they still fight about liquor and driving and they are called MADD: Mother?s Against Drunk Driving. Women are also allowed to run for Senators/Representatives in government and for presidencies. They have the right to vote for anything and have a voice. Education has also influence us because now we have a law called ?No Child Left Behind?, and we have standardized testing: CAPT (CT), SATS, ACTS, etc, which shows how much a student demonstrates their skills in a specific subject. Working laws has change minimum wage because people deserve more money for the hours they work, and some business provide health/dental/life insurance. In brief, the Progressive Era?s actions are still affecting Americans today.

Best System for Disaster Relief

When a crisis like a natural disaster occurs, light is shone on the imperfections of collects ability to come together and act. In recent years there have been plenty of disasters to prove that the systems In place to deal with these crises are not effective and are in dire need of a new approach. The victims of these disasters are often made to suffer more than is necessary because of the ineffective plans in place to deal with what ensues after. The lack of coordination and planning that the agencies in charge of relief efforts show often cause the victims more pain, suffering and even death than the disaster itself.When it comes to relief efforts, a socialist system is often suggested as being the best for responding to the needs of the people who are victims of these disasters. The reason behind this Is because the basic Idea off socialist system is a system in which the people come together for the good of the whole, not just the one. When a natural disaster like a hurricane or an earthquake occur, criticism of how the situation could have been handled better always comes up, and the suggestion that the best approach for effective relief efforts is that of socialist system.When the devastating earthquake struck Haiti In January 2010, reports of the, lack of Halted government's response flooded the media, There were rescue workers from around the globe attempting to save those who were still burled under rubble, while the Haitian government remained unseen and idle with no plan and no idea where to even begin with their efforts. Before this devastating earthquake occurred, Wait's infrastructure was practically non-existence.The little resources they did have were mostly lost in the rubble, not only actual supplies, but essential members of their police force and trained medical staff were lost too. They have nothing here, no Infrastructure, no support,† says Francisco Morale, a Spanish firefighter working at the recovery scene of a hotel. â€Å"They are too poor. † But many say the earthquake has been made more tragic by government unpreserved. â€Å"Geologists knew we were sitting on top of a fault, and what did the government do?Nothing,† says Freedmen Isms, a consultant in Port-AU-Prince who says that he tried to rally friends and relatives to distribute water in the first two days when no relief efforts were anywhere to be seen. â€Å"You are on your own here,† says Ronald, a car legman who does not want to give his last name but Is critical of the current government. â€Å"Every year there is a disaster in Haiti, and we have no rescue teams or plan. † (Lana, 2010 January 17) Haiti Earthquake: Angry crowds bemoan lack of government response.Retrieved from: http://www. Compositor. Com. The ability of a socialist system to be objective and to take into account the needs of all makes it the ideal system to handle devastation left in the wake of natural disasters. There is no discrimination In terms o f who gets what flirts because the focus of socialism is the whole, not the Individual. Take for example what happened In New York after Hurricane Sandy, social status and class were taken into account, â€Å"Like everything else, the allocation of resources has been directed to the top.The city billionaire mayor and the utility giants made sure electricity was quickly restored to the New York Stock Exchange so Wall Street investors could continue reaping their profits. The lights were also turned on in the luxury high-rise apartments In lower Manhattan. Staten Island, one woman told the news media, â€Å"We are not getting help because we are a working class neighborhood and it's a kind offend for yourself thing. In public housing projects?without water and electricity for lights or elevators?residents have been forced to get water from open fire hydrants and lug containers up multiple flights of stairs in the dark.One resident?a transit worker who had spent the previous 24 hours helping to restore the train system?told the WOWS, â€Å"Different classes get taken care of differently. † Opposing any significant allocation of resources needed to address this crisis, the politicians and the corporate-controlled news media have stressed the need for â€Å"self-reliance,† telling victims the government Anton do everything and recovery will take a very long time.Moreover, they say, the government is already facing a fiscal crisis that will limit the response. The Socialist Equality Party rejects these claims. This disaster demands a massive, socially coordinated response. The country's full technological, financial and human resources must be marshaled to provide immediate relief to those in need and rebuild homes, schools, businesses, and transit and infrastructure systems in the affected areas. † (White, 2012, November 2) A Socialist Policy for the Victims ofHurricane Sandy. Retrieved from: www. Wows. Org. If relief is distributed by the U. S. Government in the way that it was for Hurricane Sandy for any other disaster that may occur in the future, I fear to think of what that means for humanity. Yes, there are flaws in a socialist system, but could we not stand to derive some of its better attributes and apply them to our way of handling situations like the earthquake in Haiti, Hurricane Sandy or Hurricane Strain?In situations where our greatest responsibility to one another is to act compassionately to our fellow man, is it too such to think that we are capable of shying away from our natural tendency to be selfish and Just push trivial things aside to help one another in times of great need? Things like the rise in cost to heat our homes in winter would not be a topic of discussion in a socialistic society, but in the United States, where we have a capitalistic system in place, the laws of supply and demand play a relevant role in just about everything that we need.The amount the supplier of the crude oil has to pay to purchase their product factors in to the amount they charge the consumer. Along with that, you must also factor in the demand for their product, the increased demand allows for the increase in price because in supplying the consumers with their product, they are depleting their stockpile and must replenish it in order to be able to continue to keep up with that demand.Then there is the matter of the company actually turning a profit, so the already increased price because of the increased demand and possible shortage in the product, goes up even more so. It's just an infinite loop that goes on year in and year out. It is understandable that impasses who provide us with heat for our homes want to make a profit, but think of the many that cannot afford it and have bear the harsh cold of winter without heat.Why don't they apply for the government assistance program? What happens when they do apply and they are told that they do not qualify or meet the requirements? Although there i s a program in place to assist those who cannot afford the increase in price that occurs with the increase in demand for heat, there are still those who have to endure the cold and the rejection of a government who regulations that do not necessarily apply to all those who need help.

Enviromental Effects of Air Pollution and the Urban Area

Air pollution has been and is a growing environmental problem that is closely related to the growth of urban settlements. While the cities and towns of the world grow larger they emit more and more toxic emissions are put out into the air. The purpose of this paper is to discuss the issues that surround air pollution such as the long term impacts of air pollution, the short term impacts of air pollution, the long term outlook of air pollution, the short term outlook of air pollution and the potential solutions to the air pollution problem. Air pollution is an environmental problem that affects each and every one of us to some degree and it is important to understand why air pollution happens and how we can take steps to control it. Air pollution has a direct connection with urban environments all over the world. With an increase in industrialized countries ,the of use of cars, factories and also the use of fuels such as fossil fuels that emit greenhouse gasses, like carbon dioxide and sulfur dioxide, into the air, there has been a definite rise in air pollution over the world (Mayer, 1999). There are many short term effects that air pollution causes to the urban areas and to the people who are living in those areas. The first short term effect of air pollution is that it can cause health issues for the inhabitants of the area. Air pollution can cause the inhabitants to get itchy throats and irritated eyes. It also has been linked to causes bronchitis and pneumonia (Silverman, et al, 2007). Short term air pollution exposer can also cause an increase the rate of allergy infections and asthma diagnosis to the people who live in the area. The short term effects on environment range from smog clouds can cause the health issues, like the ones previously mentioned (Silverman, et al, 2007). There are also long term effects of air pollutions that are very serious to the environment and the people who live in high polluted areas. Long term air pollution exposer can have devastating effects on the health of the people who live in the area. Some of the health risks that have been linked to long term exposer consist of chronic respiratory disease, lung cancer, heart disease, and damage to the brain, kidney’s or liver (Mayer, 1999). Children who are living in a highly polluted area risk developing theses diseases at a higher rate the normal children who do not have long term exposed to air pollution. Long term air pollution also has devastating effects on the environment. One of the more serious effects is that air pollution is slowly deteriorating the Ozone layer. The Ozone layer is found in the stratosphere and it plays an important role in protecting the earth from the suns ultraviolent rays. Due to the increase in greenhouse gases, like carbon dioxide, methane, and nitrous oxide, the Ozone has developed holes and this allows harmful ultraviolet B-radiation to reach the earth. The increase of B-radiation is harmful to humans, plants and animals, and it is a known cause of Melanoma. The increase of B-radiation is always extremely harmful to plants. It causes a decrease in plant growth, height and damage to the leaves of plants (Tong, 2011). There are some potential ways to reduce, but not fully solve, the air pollution problem that is effect most urban areas. One of the ways that the countries around the world have decided to reduce air pollution was in 1997 at a United Nations conference in Kyoto, Japan. During the conference countries signed a treaty, the Kyoto Protocol promising to combat global warming by reducing the emission s of harmful greenhouse gasses that a produced my industrial factories. Unfortunately, claiming that that the treaty was not in the best interest for their county, the United States did not sign the treaty (Murray, 2001). Another potential way to reduce air pollution is through technology advancement. Using the new technologies to replace fossil fuels, such as coal burning and oil use, would substantial lower the gas emissions that cause air pollution and eventually cause the ozone layer to deplete. The short term outlook of air pollution on urban society is somewhat hopeful. Many cities and countries have begun or are beginning to take action in reducing the amount of pollution that is released into the air by the industries, cars and citizens. Many cities have started using different sources of energy, like solar power, in place of the fossil fuel energy sources that are the main contributors to air pollution. The long term outlook of air pollution is that, with many countries pledging to reduce the pollution over the coming years, the levels of air pollution will be lower in the future. Unfortunately, there is much debate over how greenhouse gases affect the ozone layer and global warming. Until this debate is over and people can agree, not enough action will be taken to help reduce the air pollution in the urban setting.

The Silver Linings Playbook Chapter 18

A Hive Full of Green Bees â€Å"Ahhhhhhhhh!† I sit up, my heart pounding. When my eyes focus, I see my dad standing at my bedside with his hands above his head; he's wearing his number 5 McNabb jersey. â€Å"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!† he continues to scream, until I get out of bed, raise my hands, and say â€Å"Ahhhhhhhhhh!† We do the chant, spelling the letters with our arms and legs. â€Å"E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!† When we finish, instead of saying good morning or anything else, my father simply jogs out of my room. I look at the clock, and it reads 5:59 a.m. The game starts at one o'clock. I promised to join Jake's tailgate party by ten, which gives me two hours to lift and an hour to run – so I lift, and Tiffany is outside at 8:00 a.m. just like she said she would be. We do a short run – maybe only six or seven miles. After a shower, I put on my Baskett jersey and ask my mom for a ride to the PATCO station, but she says, â€Å"Your driver is waiting for you outside.† Mom kisses me on the cheek and hands me some money. â€Å"Have fun, and don't let your brother drink too much.† Outside, I see Dad in his sedan; the engine is running. I get into the car and say, â€Å"Dad, are you going to the game?† â€Å"I wish I could,† he says, and then we back out of the driveway. The truth is that my father is still serving a self-imposed ban and is therefore not allowed to attend Eagles games. In the early eighties, Dad got into a fight with a Dallas Cowboys fan who dared to sit in the 700 Level, which were the cheap seats at the Vet, where the die-hard Eagles fans sat. The story I heard from my since-deceased uncle was this: When the Cowboys scored a touchdown, this Dallas fan jumped up and began cheering real loudly, so people started throwing beers and hot dogs at him. The only problem was that my dad was sitting in the row in front of this Dallas fan, so the beer and mustard and food rained down on Dad too. Apparently, Dad lost it, attacked the Dallas fan, and beat him within an inch of his life. My father was actually arrested, convicted of aggravated assault, and incarcerated for three months. If my uncle hadn't made the mortgage payments, we would have lost the house. Dad did lose his season ticket and has not been to an Eagles game since. Jake says we could get Dad in, since no one actually checks IDs at the gate, but Dad won't go back, saying, â€Å"As long as they let the opposing fans in our house, I can't trust myself.† This is sort of funny, because twenty-five years after Dad beat the hell out of that Dallas fan, he is just a fat old man who is not likely to beat up another fat old man, let alone a rowdy Dallas fan with the guts to wear a Cowboys jersey to an Eagles game. Although my father did hit me pretty hard in the attic just a few weeks ago – so maybe he is wise to stay away from the games. We drive over the hospital-green Walt Whitman Bridge, and he talks about how this just might be an important day in Eagles history, especially since the Giants won both games last year. â€Å"Revenge!† he keeps yelling indiscriminately. He also tells me I have to cheer real loudly so Eli Manning – who I know (from reading the sports pages) is the Giants' QB – will not be able to talk or hear during the huddles. â€Å"Scream your goddamn lungs out, because you're the twelfth man!† Dad says. The way he talks at me – never really pausing long enough for me to say any-thing – makes him sound crazy, I know, even though most people think I am the crazy person in the family. When we are stopped, waiting in line to pay the bridge toll, Dad quits his Eagles rant long enough to say, â€Å"It's good that you are going to the games with Jake again. Your brother's missed you a lot. You do realize that, right? You need to make time for family no matter what happens in your life, because Jake and your mother need you.† This is a pretty ironic thing for him to say, especially since he has hardly said anything to me since I have been home and never really spends any time with me or my mother or Jake at all, but I am glad my father is finally talking to me. All the time I have ever spent with Jake or him has always revolved around sports – mostly Eagles – and I know this is all he can really afford emotionally, so I take it, and say, â€Å"I wish you were going to the game, Dad.† â€Å"Me too,† he says, and then hands the toll collector a five. After taking the first off-ramp, he deposits me about ten blocks away from the new stadium so he can turn around and avoid traffic. â€Å"You're on your own coming home,† he says as I get out. â€Å"I'm not driving back into this zoo.† I thank him for the ride, and just before I shut the door, he raises his hands in the car and yells â€Å"Ahhhhhhhhh!† so I raise my hands and yell â€Å"Ahhhhhhhh!† A group of men drinking beers out of a nearby car trunk hear us, so they raise their hands and yell â€Å"Ahhhhhhhhhh!† Men united by a team, we all do the Eagles chant together. My chest feels so warm, and I remember how much fun it is to be in South Philly on game day. As I walk toward the west Lincoln Financial Field parking lot – following the directions my brother gave me on the phone the night before – so many people are wearing Eagles jerseys. Everywhere green. People are grilling, drinking beer from plastic cups, throwing footballs, listening to the WIP 610 pregame show on AM radio, and as I walk past, they all high-five me, throw me footballs, and yell, â€Å"Go Birds!† just because I am wearing an Eagles jersey. I see young boys with their fathers. Old guys with their grown sons. Men yelling and singing and smiling as if they were boys again. And I realize I have missed this a lot. Even though I do not want to, I look for the Vet and only find a parking lot. There's a new Phillies ballpark too, called Citizens Bank Park. By the entrance ripples a huge banner of some new player named Ryan Howard. All of this seems to suggest that Jake and Dad weren't lying when they said the Vet was demolished. I try not to think about the dates they mentioned, and I focus on enjoying the game and spending time with my brother. I find the right parking lot and begin to look for the green tent with the black Eagles flag flying from the top. The parking lot is full – tents and grills and parties everywhere – but after ten minutes or so, I spot my brother. Jake's in his number 99 Jerome Brown memorial jersey. (Jerome Brown was the two-time Pro Bowler defensive tackle who was killed in a car crash back in 1992.) My brother is drinking beer from a green cup, standing next to our friend Scott, who is manning the grill. Jake looks happy, and for a second I simply enjoy watching him smile as he throws an arm around Scott, whom I haven't seen since the last time I was in South Philly. Jake's face is red, and he looks a little drunk already, but he has always been a happy drunk, so I do not worry. Like my father, nothing makes Jake happier than Eagles game day. When Jake sees me, he yells, â€Å"Hank Baskett's tailgating with us!† and then runs over to give me a high five and a chest bump. â€Å"What's up, dude?† Scott says to me as we too exchange high fives. The big smile on his face suggests that he is happy to see me. â€Å"Man, you really are huge. What have you been lifting – cars?† I smile proudly as he punches my arm, like guys do when they are buddies. â€Å"It's been years – I mean, um – how many months has it been?† He and my brother exchange a glance that I do not miss, but before I can say anything, Scott yells, â€Å"Hey, all you fat-asses in the tent! I wanna introduce you to my boy – Jake's brother, Pat.† The tent is the size of a small house. I walk through the slit on one side, and a huge flat-screen television is set up on milk crates stacked two by four. Five really fat guys are seated in folding chairs, watching the pregame show – all of them in Eagles jerseys. Scott rattles off the names. After he says mine, the men nod and wave and then go back to watching the pregame show. All of them have handheld personal organizers, and their eyes are rapidly moving back and forth between the small screens in their hands and the large screen at the far side of the tent. Almost all have earpieces in, which I guess are connected to cellular phones. As we exit the tent, Scott says, â€Å"Don't mind them. They're all trying to get last-minute info. They'll be a little more friendly after they've placed their bets.† â€Å"Who are they?† I ask. â€Å"Guys from my work. I'm a computer tech now for Digital Cross Health. We do websites for family doctors.† â€Å"How are they watching television out here in the parking lot?† I ask. My brother waves me around to the back of the tent, points to a small engine in a square of metal, and says, â€Å"Gas-powered generator.† He points to the top of the tent, where a small gray plate is perched, and says, â€Å"Satellite dish.† â€Å"What do they do with all this gear when they go into the game?† I ask. â€Å"Oh,† Scott says with a laugh. â€Å"They don't have tickets.† Jake pours a Yuengling Lager into a plastic cup and hands it to me, and I notice three coolers loaded with beer cans and bottles, probably four or five cases. I know the plastic cup is to keep away the police, who can arrest you for having an open beer can in your hand but not for holding a plastic cup. The bag of empties just outside the tent suggests that Jake and Scott are way ahead of me. As Scott finishes grilling breakfast – thick sausages and eggs scrambled in a pan he has placed over the gas flames – he does not ask me many questions about what I have been up to, which I appreciate. I'm sure my brother has already told Scott all about my time in the bad place and my separation from Nikki, but I still appreciate Scott's allowing me to reenter the world of Eagles football without an interrogation. Scott tells me about his life, and it turns out that while I was in the bad place, he married someone named Willow, and they actually now have three-year-old twins named Tami and Jeri-Lyn. Scott shows me the picture he keeps in his wallet, and the girls are dressed alike in little pink ballerina outfits – tutus, tights – their hands stretched up over silver tiaras, pointing toward heaven. â€Å"My tiny dancers. We live on the Pennsylvania side now. Havertown,† Scott says as he loads a half dozen sausages onto the top rack of the barbecue, where they will keep warm while the next batch cooks. I think about Emily and me floating over the waves only the day before, and again I promise myself I'll get busy making my own daughter just as soon as apart time is over. I try not to do the math in my head, but I can't help it. If he has twins who are three years old and he was married sometime after I last saw him – but before his wife got pregnant – it must mean that I have not seen Scott for at least four years. Now maybe he knocked up his girlfriend and then married her, but of course, I can't ask that. Since his daughters are three, the math indicates he and I have not talked for at least three or four years. My last memory of Scott is at the Vet. I had sold my season ticket to Scott's brother Chris a season or two before, but Chris often went away on business conferences and allowed me to buy my seat back for the few home games played when he was out of town. I came up from Baltimore to see the Eagles play Dallas; I don't remember who won or what the score was. But I remember sitting in between Scott and Jake – up in the 700 Level – when Dallas scored a rushing touchdown. Some clown behind us stood up and began cheering as he unzipped his jacket, revealing a throwback Tony Dorsett jersey. Everyone in our section started booing and throwing food at this Dallas fan, who smiled and smiled. Jake was so drunk he could hardly stand, but he charged after this guy, climbing up over three rows of people. The sober Dallas fan shoved Jake away easily, but when Jake fell back into the arms of drunken Eagles fans, a cry went up, and the Tony Dorsett jersey was forcibly removed from the visiting fan's back and ripped into many pieces before security arrived and threw out a dozen people. Jake was not thrown out of the game. Scott and I were able to get Jake up and away from the mayhem, and when security arrived, we were in the men's room splashing water onto Jake's face, trying to sober him up. In my mind, this happened last year, maybe eleven months ago. But I know if I bring up this incident now as we are grilling in front of the Linc, I will be told that the memory occurred more than three or even four years ago, so I do not bring it up, even though I want to, because I know Jake's and Scott's responses will help me figure out what the rest of the world believes about time. And also, not knowing what the rest of the world believes happened between then and now is terrifying. It's better not to think too much about this. â€Å"Drink some beers,† Jake says to me. â€Å"Smile. It's game day!† So I start drinking, even though the little orange bottles that my pills come in have stickers forbidding me to drink alcohol. After the fat guys in the tent are fed, we eat off paper plates, and then Scott, Jake, and I begin throwing the football around. In the parking lot people are everywhere, not just tailgating, but roaming. Guys selling stolen or homemade T-shirts, moms parading around little girls in cheerleading outfits who will do a cheer if you donate a dollar to their local cheerleading booster club, crazy bums willing to tell you off-color jokes for free food and beer, strippers in short pants and satin jackets handing out free passes to the local gentlemen's clubs, packs of little kids in pads and helmets collecting money for their peewee football teams, college kids handing out free samples of new sodas or sports drinks or candy or junk food, and of course the seventy thousand other drunken Eagles fans just like us. Basically, it's a green football carnival. By the time we decide to have a catch, I've had two or three beers, and I'd be willing to bet Jake and Scott have each had at least ten, so our passes are not all that accurate. We hit parked cars, knock over a few tables of food, beam one or two guys in the back, but no one cares, because we are Eagles fans in Eagles jerseys who are ready and willing to cheer on the Birds. Every so often, other men will jump in front of one of us and intercept a pass or two, but they always give back the ball with a laugh and a smile. I like throwing the football with Jake and Scott because it makes me feel like a boy, and when I was a boy, I was the person Nikki fell in love with. But then something bad happens. Jake sees him first, points, and says, â€Å"Hey, look at the asshole.† I turn my head and see a big man in a Giants jersey, maybe forty yards away from our tent. He is wearing a red, white, and blue hard hat, and the worst part is that he has a little boy with him who is also wearing a Giants jersey. The guy walks over to a group of Eagles fans who give him a hard time at first but eventually hand him a beer. Suddenly my brother is walking toward this Giants fan, so Scott and I follow. My brother starts chanting as he walks, â€Å"Ass – hole! Ass – hole! Ass – hole!† With every syllable, he throws his index finger at the hard hat. Scott is doing the same thing, and before I know it, we are surrounded by twenty or so men in Eagles jerseys who are also chanting and pointing. I have to admit it feels sort of thrilling to be part of this mob – united in our hatred of the opposing team's fans. When we reach the Giants fan, his friends – all Eagles fans – laugh, and their faces seem to say, â€Å"We told you this would happen.† But instead of acting remorseful, the Giants fan puts his hands up in the air, as if he has just performed a magic trick or something; he smiles widely and nods his head like he is enjoying being called an asshole. He even puts his hand to his ear, as if to say, â€Å"I can't hear you.† The kid with him, who has the same pale skin coloring and flat nose – probably his son – looks terrified. The little guy's jersey hangs down to his knees, and as the â€Å"ass – hole† chant intensifies, the kid holds on to his father's leg and tries to hide behind the big man's thigh. My brother transitions the crowd into a â€Å"Giants suck† chant, and more Eagles fans come to join in. We now are at least fifty strong. And this is when the little kid breaks into tears, sobbing. When we Eagles fans see that the kid is really upset, the mob chuckles and respectfully disperses. Jake and Scott are laughing as we walk back to our tent, but I don't feel so great. I wish we did not make that little kid cry. I know the Giants fan was stupid to wear a Giants jersey to an Eagles game, and it is really his own fault that his son was made to cry, but I also know that what we did was unkind, and this is the sort of behavior Nikki hates, what I am trying – I feel his hands explode through my back, and I stumble forward and almost fall down. When I turn around, I see the big Giants fan. He is no longer wearing his hard hat; his son is not with him. â€Å"You like making little kids cry?† he says to me. I'm too shocked to speak. There were at least fifty men chanting, but he has singled out me. Why? I wasn't even chanting. I wasn't even pointing. I want to tell him this, but my mouth won't work, so I just stand there shaking my head. â€Å"If you don't want a problem, don't wear a Giants jersey to an Eagles game,† Scott says. â€Å"It's just bad parenting to bring your son down here dressed like that,† Jake adds. The mob quickly forms again. A circle of green uniforms surrounds us now, and I think this Giants fan must be crazy. One of his friends has come to talk him down. The friend's a small man with long hair and a mustache – and he's wearing an Eagles shirt. â€Å"Come on, Steve. Let's go. They didn't mean anything. It was just a joke.† â€Å"What the fuck is your problem?† Steve says, and then shoves me again, his hands exploding through my chest. At this point the Eagles fans begin chanting, â€Å"Ass – hole! Ass – hole! Ass – hole!† Steve is staring into my eyes, gritting his teeth so the tendons in his neck bulge like ropes. He also lifts weights. His arms look even bigger than mine, and he is taller than me by an inch or two. I look to Jake for help, and I can see that he looks a little worried himself. Jake steps in front of me, puts his hands up to suggest that he means no harm, but before he can say anything, the Giants fan grabs my brother's Jerome Brown memorial jersey and throws Jake to the ground. I see him hit the concrete – my brother's hands skidding along the blacktop – and then blood is dripping from his fingers and Jake's eyes look dazed and scared. My brother is hurt. My brother is hurt. MY BROTHER IS HURT. I explode. The bad feeling in my stomach rockets up through my chest and into my hands – and before I can stop myself, I'm moving forward like a Mack truck. I catch Steve's cheek with a left, and then my right connects with the south side of his chin, lifting him off the ground. I watch him float through the air as if he were allowing his body to fall backward into a pool. His back hits the concrete, his feet and hands twitch once, and then he's not moving, the crowd is silent, and I begin to feel so awful – so guilty. Someone yells, â€Å"Call an ambulance!† Another yells, â€Å"Tell 'em to bring a blue-and-red body bag!† â€Å"I'm sorry,† I whisper, because I find it hard to speak. â€Å"I'm so sorry.† And then I am running again. I weave through the crowds of people, across streets, around cars, and through horns blaring and cursing drivers screaming at me. I feel a bubbly feeling in my midsection, and then I am puking my guts out onto the sidewalk – eggs, sausage, beer – and so many people are yelling at me, calling me a drunk, saying that I'm an asshole; and then I'm running again as fast as I can, down the street away from the stadiums. When I feel as though I am going to throw up again, I stop and realize I'm alone – no more Eagles fans anywhere. A chain-link fence, beyond it a warehouse that looks abandoned. I vomit again. On the sidewalk, outside of the puddle I am making, pieces of broken glass glint and sparkle in the sun. I cry. I feel awful. I realize that I have once again failed to be kind; that I lost control in a big way; that I seriously injured another person, and therefore I'm never going to get Nikki back now. Apart time is going to last forever because my wife is a pacifist who would never want me to hit anyone under any circumstance, and both God and Jesus were obviously rooting for me to turn the other cheek, so I know I really shouldn't have hit that Giants fan, and now I'm crying again because I'm such a fucking waste – such a fucking non-person. I walk another half block, my chest heaving wildly, and then I stop. â€Å"Dear God,† I pray. â€Å"Please don't send me back to the bad place. Please!† I look up at the sky. I see a cloud passing just under the sun. The top is all electric white. I remind myself. Don't give up, I think. Not just yet. â€Å"Pat! Pat! Wait up!† I look back toward the stadiums, and my brother is running toward me. Over the next minute or so, Jake gets bigger and bigger, and then he is right in front of me, bent over, huffing and puffing. â€Å"I'm sorry,† I say. I'm so, so sorry.† â€Å"For what?† Jake laughs, pulls out his cell phone, dials a number, and holds the small phone up to his ear. â€Å"I found him,† Jake says into the phone. â€Å"Yeah, tell him.† Jake hands me the phone. I put it up to my ear. â€Å"Is this Rocky Balboa?† I recognize the voice as Scott's. â€Å"Listen, the asshole you knocked out – well, he woke up and is super pissed. Better not come back to the tent.† â€Å"Is he okay?† I ask. â€Å"You should be more worried about yourself.† â€Å"Why?† â€Å"We played dumb when the cops showed up, and no one was able to identify you or your brother – but ever since five-o left, the big guy's been searching the parking lot, looking for you. Whatever you do, don't come back here, because this Giants fan's hellbent on revenge.† I hand the phone back to Jake, feeling somewhat relieved to know I did not seriously hurt Steve, but also feeling numb – because I lost control again. Plus, I'm a little afraid of the Giants fan. â€Å"So, are we going home now?† I ask Jake when he finishes talking to Scott. â€Å"Home? Are you kiddin' me?† he says, and we start walking back toward the Linc. When I don't say anything for a long time, my brother asks if I'm okay. I'm not okay, but I don't say so. â€Å"Listen, that asshole attacked you and threw me to the ground. You only defended your family,† Jake says. â€Å"You should be proud. You were the hero.† Even though I was defending my brother, even though I did not seriously hurt the Giants fan, I don't feel proud at all. I feel guilty. I should be locked up again in the bad place. I feel as though Dr. Timbers was right about me – that I don't belong in the real world, because I am uncontrollable and dangerous. But of course I do not say this to Jake, mostly because he has never been locked up and doesn't understand what it feels like to lose control, and he only wants to watch the football game now, and none of this means anything to him, because he has never been married and he has never lost someone like Nikki and he is not trying to improve his life at all, because he doesn't ever feel the war that goes on in my chest every single fucking day – the chemical explosions that light up my skull like the Fourth of July and the awful needs and impulses and †¦ Outside the Linc, masses form thick lines, and with hundreds of other fans, we wait to be frisked. I don't remember being frisked at the Vet. I wonder when it became necessary to frisk people at NFL games, but I do not ask Jake, because he is now singing â€Å"Fly, Eagles, Fly† with hundreds of other drunken Eagles fans. After we are frisked, we climb the steps and have our tickets scanned, and then we are inside of Lincoln Financial Field. People everywhere – it's like a hive full of green bees, and the buzz is deafening. We often have to turn sideways just to squeeze between people as we walk the concourse to get to our section. I follow Jake, worrying about getting separated, because I would be lost for sure. We hit the men's room, and Jake gets everyone inside to sing the Eagles fight song again. The lines for the urinals are long, and I am amazed that no one pees in the sinks, because at the Vet – at least up in the 700 Level – all sinks were used as extra urinals. When we finally get to our seats, we are in the end zone, only twenty or so rows up from the field. â€Å"How did you get such good tickets?† I ask Jake. â€Å"I know a guy,† he replies, and smiles proudly. Scott is already seated, and he congratulates me on my fight, saying, â€Å"You knocked that fucking Giants fan out cold!† which makes me feel awful again. Jake and Scott high-five just about everyone in the section, and as the other fans call Scott and my brother by name, it becomes obvious that they are quite popular here. When the beer man comes around, Scott buys us a round, and I am amazed to find a cup holder in the seat in front of me. You would never see such a luxury item at the Vet. Just before the Eagles' players are announced, clips from the Rocky movies are shown on the huge screens at each end of the field – Rocky running by the old Navy Yard, Rocky punching sides of beef in the meat locker, Rocky running up the steps of the art museum – and Jake and Scott keep saying, â€Å"That's you. That's you,† until I worry that someone will hear them, understand that I just fought the Giants fan in the parking lot, and tell the police to take me back to the bad place. When the Eagles' starting lineup is announced, fireworks explode and cheerleaders kick and everyone is standing and Jake keeps on pounding my back with his hand and strangers are high-fiving me, and suddenly I stop thinking about my fight in the parking lot. I begin to think about my dad watching the game in our family room – my mother serving him buffalo wings and pizza and beers, hoping the Eagles win just so her husband will be in a good mood for a week. I again wonder if my dad will start talking to me at night if the Eagles pull out a victory today, and suddenly it's kickoff and I am cheering as if my life depends on the outcome of the game. The Giants score first, but the Eagles answer with a touchdown of their own, after which the whole stadium sings the fight song – punctuated by the Eagles chant – with deafening pride. Late in the first quarter, Hank Baskett gets his first catch of his NFL career – a twenty-five-yarder. Everyone in our section high-fives me and pats me on the back because I am wearing my official Hank Baskett jersey, and I smile at my brother because he gave me such a great present. The game is all Eagles after that, and at the start of the fourth quarter the Eagles are up 24 – 7. Jake and Scott are so happy, and I am beginning to imagine the conversation I am going to have with my father when I get home – how proud he will be of my yelling whenever Eli Manning was trying to call a play. But then the Giants score seventeen unanswered points in the fourth quarter, and the Philadelphia fans are shocked. In overtime, Plaxico Burress goes up and over Sheldon Brown in the end zone, and the Giants leave Philadelphia with a win. It is awful to watch. Outside of the Linc, Scott says, â€Å"Better not come back to the tent. That asshole will be there waiting, for sure.† So we say goodbye to Scott and follow the masses to the subway entrance. Jake has tokens. We go through the turnstiles, descend underground, and push our way onto an already packed subway car. People yell, â€Å"No room!† but Jake mashes his body in between the other bodies and then pulls me in too. My brother's chest is against my back; strangers are smashed against my arms. The doors finally close, and my nose is almost touching the glass window. The smell of beer resurfacing through everyone's sweat glands is pungent. I don't like being this close to so many strangers, but I don't say anything, and soon we are at City Hall. After we exit the train, we spin another turnstile, climb up into center city, and begin walking down Market Street, past the old department stores and the new hotels and The Gallery. â€Å"You wanna see my apartment?† Jake asks when we get to the Eighth and Market PATCO stop, which is where I can hop a train over the Ben Franklin Bridge to Collingswood. I do want to see Jake's apartment, but I am tired and anxious to get home so I can do a little lifting before bed. I ask if I might see it some other time. â€Å"Sure,† he says. â€Å"It's good to have you back, brother. You were a true Eagles fan today.† I nod. â€Å"Tell Dad the Birds will bounce back next week against San Fran.† I nod again. My brother surprises me by giving me a two-armed hug and saying, â€Å"I love you, bro. Thanks for getting my back in the parking lot.† I tell him that I love him too, and then he is walking down Market Street singing â€Å"Fly, Eagles, Fly† at the top of his lungs. I descend underground, insert the five my mother gave me into the change machine, buy a ticket, stick it into the turnstile, descend more stairs, hit the waiting platform, and begin to think about that little kid in the Giants jersey. How hard did he cry when he realized his father had been knocked out? Did the kid even get to see the game? A few other men in Eagles jerseys are sitting on the chrome benches. Each nods sympathetically at me when they see my Hank Baskett jersey. One man at the far end of the platform yells, â€Å"Goddamn fucking Birds!† and then kicks a metal trash can. Another man standing next to me shakes his head and whispers, â€Å"Goddamn fucking Birds.† When the train comes, I choose to stand just inside the doors, and as the train slides across the dusk sky, over the Delaware River, across the Ben Franklin Bridge, I look at the city skyline, and – again – I start to think about that kid crying. I feel so awful when I think about that little kid. I get off the train at Collingswood, walk across the open-air platform and down the steps, stick my card into the turnstile machine, and then jog home. My mother is sitting in the family room, sipping tea. â€Å"How's Dad?† I ask. She shakes her head and points at the TV. The screen is cracked so that it looks like a spiderweb. â€Å"What happened?† â€Å"Your father smashed the screen with the reading lamp.† â€Å"Because the Eagles lost?† â€Å"No, actually. He did it when the Giants tied the game at the end of the fourth quarter. Your father had to watch the Eagles blow the game on the bedroom television,† Mom says. â€Å"How's your brother?† â€Å"Fine,† I say. â€Å"Where's Dad?† â€Å"In his office.† â€Å"Oh.† â€Å"I'm sorry your team lost,† Mom says, just to be nice, I know. â€Å"It's okay,† I answer, and then go down into the basement, where I lift weights for hours and try to forget about that little Giants fan crying, but I still can't get the kid out of my mind. For whatever reason I fall asleep on the rug that covers part of the basement floor. In my dreams the fight happens again and again, only instead of the Giants fan bringing a kid to the game, the Giants fan brings Nikki, and she too is wearing a Giants jersey. Every time I knock the big guy out, Nikki pushes through the crowd, cradles Steve's head in her hands, kisses his forehead, and then looks up at me. Just before I run away, she says, â€Å"You're an animal, Pat. And I will never love you again.† I cry through my dreams and try not to hit the Giants fan every time the memory flashes through my mind, but I can't control my dream self any more than I could control my awake self after seeing the blood on Jake's hands. I wake up to the sound of the basement door being closed, and I see the light streaming in through the small windows over the washer and dryer. I walk up the steps, and I cannot believe the sports pages are there. I am very upset about the dream I had, but I realize it was only a dream, and despite everything that has happened, my father is still leaving me the sports pages after one of the worst Eagles losses in history. So I take a deep breath. I allow myself to feel hopeful again and start my exercise routine.

Erikson’s Theory In Today’s Culture: A Reflection

A person’s personality directly affects how he conducts himself and ultimately, how he will live his life. In more ways than one, then, personality helps direct a person towards success. Having said this, it is no wonder that the development of a person’s personality has long been the subject of psychological research. Of the many theories in personality and child development, Erik Erikson’s is one of those that have stood the test of time. Perhaps this is largely due to the fact that unlike most theories, his covers the whole life cycle of man. It also helped that amongst the rather purist concepts – of the nature vs. urture phenomenon – his recognizes both the effect of internal development (of the body and the mind) and the influence of the outside world to a person’s personality. However adaptive Erikson’s psychosocial stages are, though, it is still important to reexamine it alongside our culture today, in order to gauge how effective and accurate it still is. On a general viewpoint, the main tenet of Erikson’s philosophy – that there are specific traits developed (or lost) in a particular stage in a person’s life – still holds even when analyzed alongside our ever-developing culture. This means that on most counts, contemporary culture has strengthened Erikson’s theory – not negate or redefine it. For example, that the viewpoint of a person with regard to how trustworthy the world is shaped during the early years is still true (whether that occurs exclusively during infancy is up to now subject to verification): recent studies of incidents of suicide show its relation to the formation during the early years of the basic belief I have earlier mentioned. Likewise, it is still true that a sense of autonomy is developed during the toddler years – when we learn to walk on our own, and feed and bathe ourselves. The continuous development of our educational system supports the two subsequent stages – play age and school age – in Erikson’s theory: indeed, it is during the time we start going to school and widening our circle that we develop initiative and the value of industry. As for the next stage, adolescence, it still is the case that during these years – in our struggle for independence from parents; in our attempt to develop romantic relationships and strengthen our ties with friends; in our quest to find the answer to the question â€Å"Who am I? † – we develop a deeper sense of our identity. I mentioned that on most counts, Erikson’s theory holds. There are several points in his work, however, that are redefined by a change in our culture. One of the most glaring changes would be in his stage of young adulthood. While it is true that during this time we seek love and a deeper relationship, more and more of the American youth opt to stay single until their thirties. Whereas before starting a family occurs at this stage, now having kids occurs more in Erikson’s next stage – middle adulthood. In my opinion, the high incidence of divorce nowadays, and the lure of leading a life devoid of the immense responsibility married life entails, instills in us the belief that having a family takes careful planning and thus, takes time. Upon examining Erikson’s theory, it is prevalent that he sees his stages as having a linear path; that is, the stages – and the development of the traits he singled out for each stage – occur one after the other, with each one having a direct effect on the stage it precedes. In simpler terms, then, if a person failed to develop trust in infancy, he will have a hard time cultivating autonomy in the next stage, if he even ever does. Such a pessimistic way of putting things, I believe, is doomed to criticism and negation in itself. How many times have we heard of success stories, of people who rose above a troubled childhood to find love and success in their adult lives? Erikson, it seems, failed to take into account the strength of the human spirit to rise above any predicament. If there is one characteristic of our culture and our world today that may hinder us from successfully navigating through Erikson’s psychosocial stages, it is their being fast-paced. In an environment where success is predominantly measured by what you own, we are driven to lead lives that place personal relationships in the back seat. Given this fact, it is possible that more and more of us will fail to resolve a crisis or two in the â€Å"right time†, as outlined in Erikson’s work. I believe, however, that despite this fact, in the end we will still tackle the issues inherent in our struggle to form our identity, and we will still be able to resolve them all.

Internet Protocol version 4 (IPv4) Security Essay

IPv4 is an end-to-end network model that supports the multicast operation. Multicast operations or communications involve information transfer from one node in as single transmission to multiple receivers within the network. Moreover, it facilitates the broadcasting of multimedia information like videos and audio teleconferences. IPv4 utilizes MAC addresses and IP addresses to send data packets within and outside the Local Area Network respectively. For security purposes, routers are used in the interconnection of multiple networks to map the IP addresses to related MAC addresses. IPv4 uses 32-bit addresses that are divided into octets, each octet separated by a period. This gives different address ranges that are used for different purposes. This protocol establishes the use of group access controls, router trusts and group center trusts. However, since information is being sent to group users sharing the same address, it becomes challenging to implement encryption standards and authentication infrastructures. Although sharing a public key may remedy the situation, it is only successful if the number of receivers is limited (Bachert, 2002). As a result, while some receivers get error-free transmissions other may not even see the data that has been transmitted. Internet Protocol Security (IPsec) provides a homogeneous security mechanism framework within the IP suite. IPsec offers a security protocols that operate independently from data origin authentication, cryptographic, replay protection and key exchange mechanisms used in protecting explicit applications. To be put into consideration, IPsec depends on the founding of Security Associations (SAs) between the individual hosts involved in sheltered communications. The SAs agree with clear-cut authentication algorithms, security and cryptographic features that the host uses to securely communicate with another host.