This is an argumentative essay written about one of the many essays we have read during the term in Writing Seminar from the book, 50 Essays, A Portable Anthology.

Without the awareness of a problem, nobody could ever know there was something that needed to change. Homelessness has forever been a problem that mainstream society blatantly ignores and isolates itself from. Coincidentally, the growing frequency of interactions with homeless people in the city streets might be the factor that will begin transforming our society’s negative feelings towards the homeless to having empathy and compassion for their situation. This is what the author of “On Compassion,” Barbara Lazear Ascher, tries to make clear and I agree with completely.

The author introduces the essay by describing a mother’s encounter with a homeless man on the bustling city streets of high class Manhattan, New York. The man walks on by, as if he did not exist. He appears to be unnoticed by everyone, except for one upper-class woman, whose child the man admires with an dreamy grin. She got very uncomfortable with this and impatiently fumbled through her purse to give the man a dollar; hoping he would leave her presence. The author says the homeless man looked confused, as if “he does not know his part. He does not know that acceptance of the gift and gratitude are what makes this transaction complete.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) Eventually, he accepts the dollar and vanishes back into the city streets.
The author then asks the reader, “Was it fear or compassion that motivated the gift?” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) As I gather, this was the lady’s way of asking the homeless man to leave, and not a gift of fear nor of compassion. If she was afraid, she would likely avoid the confrontation all together, or would have sought out help from the many others around her on the street. I do not see that she had compassionate intentions either. She did not ignore his presence and did give him a dollar, but she still did not quite empathize with his true needs and desires. I think this man simply was asking for some attention like we all need from time to time, wanted to be able to admire the child, or perhaps strike up a conversation with the mother like other people would have been able to do under similar circumstances. If he wanted the dollar, he would have begged. Understandably, the lady was unsure of the man’s intentions and even of her own, so she took the middle-of-the-road approach and did what she figured was relatively the ‘right thing’ to do. As the author suggests, the effort to do something was there, and perhaps that is a sign of citizens’ changing their attitude towards those living on the streets.

The author then describes another scene where a homeless man is once again given a gift so he will be encouraged to leave, and notes that this was not the first time she had witnessed the same homeless man get the same treatment from the same store owner. Setting the scene, the author subtly tells of why she went to the shop herself. Which was always to “stave hunger” or “stay the cold.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) In other words, she come only to eat when she was hungry and to warm up when she was cold. This then sets an empathetic tone, establishing the homeless mans reasoning for also coming to the shop as well on a cold winters day. Immediately as the familiar homeless man enters the store, who looks like trash and smells like “urine and stale cigarette butts,” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) the “moody store owner” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) hurriedly gives him a gift of hot coffee and some bread. He accepts the food, turns around and quickly leaves the store.
Again, the author poses the question, “what compels this woman to feed this man? Pity? Care? Compassion? Or does she simply want to rid her shop of this troublesome presence?” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) She argues the unlikelihood of the latter by saying, “most proprietors . . . chase the homeless from their midst with expletives and threats,” instead of “rewarding their arrival with gifts of food.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 36) Therefore, the fact that the store owner acknowledges this mans misfortunes and gives him a gift that she felt comfortable giving, there is the indication that the act which lead to her offering the man the gift was driven by a hint of compassion.

Alone, both of the previous examples make the authors thesis strong. When coupled with the following observations and current events cited by the author that show a larger city-wide initiative which indicates empathy toward the homeless, her thesis is given even more support. The author describes how she noticed a growing number of complaints from the citizens regarding their discomfort with having to constantly “pick their way through poverty and madness,” (qtd. in 50 Essays 37) and how many dream of living in the “open spaces of Wyoming, the manicured exclusivity of Hobe Sound;” (qtd. in 50 Essays 37) while at the same time, coincidently, or not so coincidently, “as winter approaches,” the author describes, “the mayor of New York City is moving the homeless off the streets and into Bellevue Hospital.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 37) I fear that, as the author suggests, though the movement’s intent is humane, “it is something else as well.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 37) None the less, it is an effort towards a solution, and it is the fact that they are being acknowledged that is important to take notice of.
Still, the ’something else’ mentioned here can be found as the underlying theme written throughout the authors essay. While action is being taken for betterment of the homeless, the ulterior motive for it all is for the homeless to be sent away and erased from the minds of the majority (those who are able to function in society and are fortunate enough to have a home and a job to provide for themselves). While this is true, the author still portrays that in the actions taken by each example given, some are in fact learning to empathize and are practicing compassion to the greatest extent that they can currently offer. For example, each could have completely ignored the homeless, or they each could have “[chased them] from their midst with expletives and threats,” or perhaps they could have done worse.

As Barbara Lazear Ascler states, no one is born compassionate, “it must be learned, and it is learned by having adversity at our windows, coming through the gates of our yards, the walls of our towns, adversity that becomes so familiar that we begin to identify and empathize with it.” (qtd. in 50 Essays 37) She points out, by example, that people generally have negative attitudes towards the homeless. However, she indicates, that because some individuals are doing more for the homeless than society expects of them, makes it clear that the growing amount of contact had with the homeless in the city streets is possibly the catalyst to a new trend where citizens have compassion for the homeless and empathize with their life situations.

Posted by drpooville_Admin as College Of The Atlantic at 4:08 PM PDT

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This is a Personal Reflection Essay. If anyone is surprised by the topic I choose….i’ll have to wonder about you because i have been talking about this a lot!

As I understand now, life if full of situations that are impossible to ‘handle’ alone such as the one I’m about to tell. There have been a great many times I have needed to cry, needed to be held and comforted, but got none. Times when I have needed to be told that it was fine to be scared and that “everything would be okay,” but got no such response. All my life both my mom and dad have neglected to delve into my heart and soul for the truth that lies hidden within. Never have I been comfortable in seeking out help when I felt tension inside because I have had so few positive experiences with doing so when I have tried. I now find myself constantly suppressing my feelings from all my family, friends, and even from myself—proving I have a self-destructive nature, overwhelming anxieties, and many feelings within left unexplored over the years.

It was mid afternoon, on a peaceful Sunday in September of 1996, when the phone rang and I answered, “Hello?” “Good afternoon,” A lady on the other end of the line replied. “This is Rebecca, with the Houston Police department.” “Is this the residence of a Mrs. Terry O’Reilly; a Mr. Ryan O’Reilly’s mother?” the dispatcher continued in a very low, monotone voice. I replied, “Not exactly. It is actually Terry Ward now. But yes, she is here. Please hold on one second and I will get her.” “Man!” I thought as I went to find my mother, “I hope Ryan is not in trouble with the police or anything.”

As my mother picked up the phone, I slipped behind her and took a seat where I could see her facial expressions and overhear her conversation. She started, “Hello?” Looking very disappointed. “Yes, this is she.” Suddenly her entire body began to tremble. Her face turned pale and she stuttered. “Uh….” As her mouth dropped open wide. “No…Oh No! No….Oh No! Plea…Please hol…ho…hold on!” The phone slammed against the wall and stood hanging by its cord while my mother ran screaming for my father to come get the phone.

I could hear the panic in her voice as she tried to explain to my dad that he needed to get on the phone as quickly as possible. He couldn’t understand her, but went to the phone anyways. When he spoke, he started with a calm and unaccented tone, and ended with the same. He shone with strength and comfort to me, as if nothing at all was wrong. He spoke, “Yes. I understand. All right. Life flight to Herman Hospital you say? At noon today? Okay. Thank you, we will be there as soon as possible.” He hung up the phone.

He turned to me and without hesitation, said, “Ryan has been in a serious motorcycle accident. Please go and find your brother for me. We are going to be leaving for the hospital in just a few minutes.”

I felt scared, confused and overwhelmed. I began to panic, as if to emulate my mother’s response.

I ran around my neighborhood looking for my brother. I found that he had gone driving with a friend, and thought, “We will just have to leave without him.” So I ran as quickly as I could back toward my house. Luckily, on the way home, I crossed paths with my brother and his friend. I flagged them down, told him the situation, and that we were leaving for the hospital “right now!”

After having found my brother, the four of us, mom, dad, my brother, and I, saddled up in our car and hit the road. My mother was silent the entire trip, still shaking, and smoking one cigarette after another the entire forty-five minute trip. My father and brother appeared to be calm as trees on a windless day.

No one was talking. No one was comforting anyone else. I understood this was a difficult time, but I was scared too. What was I to do? I was conflicted. In so many ways I wanted to panic, tremble and cry. My mind had begun to think only the worst. Equally though, I wanted to be like my dad and brother. I wanted to be strong and stay in control, at least for the sake of my already troubled mother. I felt more pressure to keep my cool, so I forcibly changed my manners and began to emulate the responses I saw in everyone else. I was confused, but I repressed all that my heart cried out and forced a smile upon my face.

“Hey! How are you? It is very nice to see everyone! It is to bad we are here under such circumstances though!” went around as we arrived at the hospital. Many people were obviously anxious, scared and saddened by this tragedy. Tears flowed like a storm from many, accompanied by numerous hugs and comforting dialogs. However, I couldn’t shed a tear and took no comfort in what the others offered.

Everyone anticipated updates from nurses or doctors. Heads shot up every time the door opened, hoping that whomever it was was the bearer of good news. We waited over twelve hours for the first new facts updating us as to the current situation.

“Good evening everyone,” the operating room surgeon working on Ryan said with a smile. “I have some very good news, and, unfortunately, some very bad. As you well know, Ryan has suffered a severe lesion to his left leg, which was so severe that we had no choice but to amputate at mid-thigh. As well, he has sustained major trauma to all of his lower extremities and is currently in critical condition.” He paused. “But! The good news is, we have stabilized all his vital signs, and we are pretty certain he will make a full recovery. He will be able to have visitors by mid-afternoon tomorrow. So, please have a good evening and try to get some rest.”

The moment we had all been waiting for had come and gone. Maybe others felt relief, but I felt even worse than I had. Ryan was still in critical condition and even if he recovered, he would be missing a leg, and who knew what else would be wrong. The doctors continued to be vague about what specifically was damaged and how severe these traumas were. I could only imagine. Because I was continuing to repress my fears and sadness, the pressures inside mounted and I could only think of the worst scenarios possible. I was caught in a vicious cycle of emotional confusion and overwhelming fear and sadness with no outlet for relief, making it on only a matter of time before I would explode.

My mom must have heard the time-bomb ticking, because right before we visited Ryan the next afternoon, she asked, “Are you okay? Are you sure you can handle seeing Ryan in the shape he is? Hooked up to wires and hoses and all?” I knew that if I was to tell the truth of how I was feeling, I would be forced to stay behind. The truth was that I was very upset and scared, but I wanted to see Ryan in the condition he was in. So I had to appear strong and quickly responded, “No, every thing’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

When we walked into Ryan’s room, a wave of anxiety rolled over my entire being. I saw Ryan’s bed and my knees weakened. I could feel a lump in my throat rising. “Be strong,” I kept telling myself. Then I saw Ryan. He was lying lifeless, naked, covered with a thin sheet up to his waist. Beeping monitors attached to wires sprawled across his torso. He had hoses coming from his nostrils and mouth, taking breaths, in – and – out, in – and – out. His eyes were swollen shut and covered with tape. His face was bruised and blood stained his scalp. Then I looked for his leg. I wanted it to be there. But, as I feared most and knew to be the truth, where his leg had been there was but now a deep crease in the sheets.

I was stricken with panic, but I pushed it away. “Be strong, you can do this. You are in control,” I kept repeating to myself.

All the family and friends who were with me visiting Ryan gathered around him, held hands, and someone began a prayer. I felt the sadness creeping up inside like a snake to its prey. It tingled the depths of my nasal cavity and gouged at my eyes. I witnessed Ryan’s hand weakly squeeze my mother’s, who suddenly burst into tears. I saw my father, head bowed in prayer, lose a tear or two, but he remained calm and controlled. I squeezed my neighbors’ hands tightly and locked my wobbling heart down with an ironclad chain. But this was not enough. I exploded inside and my head began to spin endlessly. If not for the hands I was holding, I surely would have collapsed. With my mask on securely, I somehow managed to mute the pain and maintained a motionless and expressionless stance, at least until the prayer was over.

Once the prayer had ended, and everyone gathered themselves, I excused myself and ran to hide in the bathroom, as if ashamed. Tears flowed like Niagara Falls and my whole body trembled uncontrollably. I cried and I cried. I grabbed my hair and pulled. I swung all about! I cried some more and kept crying until my brother walked into the bathroom and said, “Mom told me to come in here and make sure everything is okay. Is everything okay?”

I regrouped, grabbed all that had come loose in the explosion, and replied, “yeah, I’m fine.”

______________-

After a total of 3 revisions, I made a B on the final draft. I’m very happy with this.

-Chris

Posted by drpooville_Admin as College Of The Atlantic at 4:03 PM PDT

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So, I decided not to go to the March today, April 25th in Washington DC. I just have too much stuff to do and the schedule for the trip was hellacious!

But! Elisheva went :-) I hope everything’s going well and she is having a good time! I miss her already! And it kinda sucks, i did not really get to say goodbye. :-(

-Chris

Posted by drpooville_Admin as General, Peace Works! at 12:30 PM PDT

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How about this for lunch?

I threw some of the following into a stirfry: Quarter lemon juice, a tablespoon of Apple Cider Vinger, some vegitable oil, a pinch of rosemarry and a tablespoon of curry powder, Green/Red peppers, mushrooms, like 10 snow pea pods, tomatoes slices and 3 peices of ham sliced up.

I boiled some peanuts and sunflower seeds with some Cayenne Pepper until soft.

I cooked up some black beans.

Drained everything, then wrapped it all up into two warm whole wheat tortillas with a little mozzarella cheese to top it off.

-Chris

Posted by drpooville_Admin as Recipes at 12:26 PM PDT

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A word about Dyslexia…
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig ins’t it?

Posted by drpooville_Admin as General at 3:01 PM PDT

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I made some more wicked good burritos!

I used the rest of my left over homemade chicken and macarroni and cheese. (Which…i did not put the recipe for either up because i wasn’t to proud of the chicken….and i have forgotten what i used to make it anyways.) The mac and cheese was just bent-elbow noodles, with mild con queso cheese, extra salsa plus a little milk. I cubed the rest of the left over chicken breast and added it and the mac to the following stirfy mix. Diced brochli, cucumber, tomatoes, onion, mushrooms, green and red bell peppers, and snow peas. All seasoned with juice from half a lemon, some marjoram, parika, red pepper, black pepper and salt. I also added a can of black eyed peas. Then i wrapped this mix up in a warm wheat tortilla and added some mozarella chesse. Yum Yum.

-Chris

Posted by drpooville_Admin as Recipes at 4:03 PM PDT

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Okay, so, What’s up? I’m up to a lot.

For the past couple of weeks, school has been keeping me very busy. Along with me myself I have still been working very hard on developing my emotional self and coming to terms with the realities of my being. I have come to realize, without a doubt, that i hide a lot from myself and have an almost impossible time confronting either myself or others with issues in my heart. I avoid allowing people to get close to me because i have so much anxiety in dealing with my thoughts and emotions. I don’t know how to ‘talk’. I don’t know how to ‘feel’. Well, I know how….i just am not good at it. When i try, i feel like I’m fighting against something very strong inside me resisting the efforts. No matter how much my heart wants to speak, my mind says no. I’m filled with guilt and confusion. I don’t know where my place is and don’t feel comfortable asking. (This is not something that is negatively effecting me on a day to day basis or anything, it’s not really depressing either…though at times while in the struggle i find myself depressed…it’s not something I’m afraid of or think will never change…hence why I’m putting up such a fight…) I feel that these issues are a lot due to the nature in which i was raised in a very masculine environment.

I mean, i have 3 older brothers, a mother who had no siblings (especially no female siblings) and who had a father whom was quite masculine and domineering (correct me if i am wrong…here…about papa bob) and a father who is also lacking emotional connection because he was not present in my life all to often due to his efforts to sustain our well-being by working (further, playing the masculine role…). As great of a family as they are, (really, i have lived an awesome life! and have been given such a great oppurtunity for life! I love you all!) I never had a ‘famine’ chance.

Now that I’m looking at things, i see that it would have been impossible not to have grown up being as uncomfortable as I am with dealing in emotions, internal conflict, being naturing and communicative (I know…mom, you remember us talking a lot….but….that’s only what you remember….it’s not the truth. Sorry, but I was generally on my own when dealing with my problems.), affectionate, and have the ability to cry. Yes, the ability. I can not cry, even when the back of my eyes and my nasal cavities are burning with an intensity of fire. There is a little, something, inside my being that says keeps me from being able to just let go. I always am on guard, always defensive, always…have a plan and a reason. I justify everything; sometimes to the point of lying (or leaving out the truth more often the case….) to myself and others, just to be ‘right.’…or more the case….’not wrong.’ Excused. Not responsible. When i don’t need to! When all i would need to do is be truthful of how i feel, and be secure in my lack of not being ‘all knowing’ and dependent on others.

As these issues arise though, one of the ways my self struggles with me unconsciously is through self-ridicule and guilt. This is my auto-response to keep myself in masculine check. Making sure i am always continuing to not fix these deeply ingrained social pressures I’ve developed into instinct.

I don’t blame anyone for my being this way, though some were obviously, to a large degree, encouraging a certain way of being. I don’t blame myself either, because i’m only living life (until now…more or less) as it came to me with out any reflection upon why and how i was living.

I, say to myself and to my family now; start from today. I want to change.

I know it’s not going to be tomorrow that the communication is open, affection is present in everyday dealings, guilt is a thing of the past, defenses are dropped, emotions are allowed to be expressed and listened to by the one’s who are expressing them and validated from all sides, and crying is a thing of pleasure and a positive action. I want it to be something that is part of the future and something that is progressively changing though, in myself alone, esspecially. Even if it takes years. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter even if in our lifetime we only acknowledge these things (but…not just to say ‘oh yea…that’s right’ and have it not be genuine or sincere…) and that’s as far as it goes. So long as the effort is being made, i feel that’s change enough.

I am changing, and it is not easy. And it can be depressing. But, depression is only a state of mind and it’s not who I am. It’s a sign that there are problems in my life. Who doesn’t have problems? Who isn’t depressed at some points in time? No one. Depression is good. Depression can be beneficial. Depression is a sign one should learn to accept as a tool for growth. And use it as that. Use it as your body’s way to tell you there’s something going on that needs to be dealt with. Even if you don’t have a clue what it is saying, or if you do know what’s it saying…but don’t know what to do about what it is saying, recognize that it is SAYING something. And if you do know what it is saying (which is the case with me lately) but just can’t ‘let go’ of the message and let it be what it is, acknowledge that there is a message and just let it be. It will come to the surface on it’s on if you let it. IF YOU LET IT. So long as you don’t suppress it, avoid it, defend it, lie about it, push it away, let it manifest into other forms like anger or isolation, or guilt.
Yea, so this is what I’m dealing with. I’m trying to harmonize my masculinity and femininity, so to speak. Where my life has been practically void of the latter until being with Katie, and now with Elisheva. And of course, with the latest endeavors of personal reflection.

There were many things in my relationship with Katie that i did not deal with as they occurred and still have an almost impossible time dealing with now, even though I’m on the other side of the world practically. We’ve both grown since i left, and are working together to ensure our relationship as friends stays strong. She has openly acknowledged that she made it very difficult for me to be myself in our relationship; and that she understands she wasn’t always a positive force towards raising my comfort levels with expression and open communication in our relationship. I know too though, that she was not the source of this troubled communication, for as i have just described, I grew up with this as my way of ’survival.’ Her recognizing this is a huge step for her, and for me too. For, again, i am plagued with guilt, and tend to find reason’s to blame myself for much of why our relationship ended. This encourages me to continue and let myself be honest and to express to her the truth in how i felt and how I’ve always felt about certain things which i repressed as a matter of ’survival’ in the relationship. I love her so much. She is a great person, and nothing i have repressed changes that. But, the fact that i was unable to speak to her about how i felt in our relationship is a big deal and is something which caused both of us much confusion and pain in the end. We are going to learn from this.

Today, Elisheva is here for me. And, so as to not repeat the same mistakes, I am (as is obvious) working very very very very hard to be open, honest, and upfront about how i feel, exactly! It is SOOOO hard. Yet, with her patience, strength, and love for me, and my love for her, and a lot of struggling, I have made some SUBSTANCIAL improvements in this exercise. If any friends and family want to know what’s going on in my life on this very important level, you are welcome to ask me how things are going. I encourage it. Even though I am not too comfortable still with expressing myself…..especially vocally (I’ve improved greatly in writing….with so much practice recently) the only way to get better is with practice and encouragement. My new …uhh….i don’t know what it is called….is “Comfort is my goal. Not my solution” Though, if i say with HONESTY, that i don’t feel like ‘right now’ is a good time to talk, be accepting and encourage me to stay honest by saying, okay. Then ask me about it later. Because if you’re persistent, which is necessary when one has such a complex about something like this, you will eventually make it through.

See, i still can’t actively seek out this person or that to speak of what i have going on in my mind very easily, not friends, not family. But, the first step for me to getting closer to this is having other’s question me with genuine interest and comfort. Though, on a daily basis, i am making strides to speak to those who I’m close with at school and here at home with Ryan about these things. It’s just….very difficult.

Yeah, so how about that for some reflection? Crazy, eh? Not really. I’m sure those reading this (you!) can relate. Hopefully your either learning from me, or can say, Yeah, i remember how tuff that WAS when i dealt with those issues, or can say, (most likely the females…..*i don’t have a clue who all reads my blogs…probably not to many people….but….anyways…*) yeah, these things are very important, keep going!

But,
no matter, I’m going going going.

Speaking of Going Going Going….and females. Many don’t know this…but I am very excited to become involved in the movement to build Women’s strength, health, voice and acceptance into our male dominated society. I have for a long time felt that women are treated unfairly and discriminated against in our country and the world in general. Not only here, but much of my interest is the increasingly popular movement of women into the workplace. And another big one is Women’s right to Choose. Abortion.
In Washington DC, on April 25th there is going to be a HUGE demonstration for women’s right to abortion and reproductive health.
If everything works out, I’m GOING. It will the first time i have ever participated in a demonstration. It’s going to be the biggest thing i have ever been involved with, period. There is quite a base of supporters going from COA. And I’m going to get involved to whatever extent possible. See MarchForWomen.org for more information.

And, interestingly enough, I’ve found a very exciting Internship possibility which is also oriented around women. Though i have only just begin searching out potentiality’s, I think i have found THE ONE.

See THIS LINK for more a description. See Women In Progress.org for more info, or even Internship Info for even more specific info.

There are no ‘for sures’ by far, but what i am for sure about is that I’m very interested in this and I feel that I would gain so much from participating in it.

One, as a volunteer for a cause. That alone is soothing to the soul, activates change, makes a big difference in other’s lives. And, it gives me great volunteer experience in general.

Two, active study in non profit business management and operations. If i am to eventually work in this field, this is GREAT experience and would look awesome on a resume, etc.

Three, International study! Wholly shit! See the world! Expand my cultureness and grow on a global level. Being stuck in this one-sided nation called the US, restricts the view of the real world. Going to a place such as Cape Coast, Ghana in Africa would really give a view of this reality which we are hidden from as US citizens. So much would be difficult about this type of environmental change, but the challenge would great in so many ways!

Four, the job is so RIGHT up my ally. It uses all of my current expertise’s perfectly, and enables to to grow with so many more. Especially the non-profit management and operation field, as well as education and international relations.
Five, (by the way…these different things are in no particular order….) I fill my internship requirement at COA. Which, even though this trip would cost a few thousand dollars, i will get a full semesters worth of credits, equaling 3, which is the same as if i took 3 classes like i have for this term and the last (So, i would actually be saving money….). Well, I am pretty sure anyways….I’m going to speak to internship committee and figure out for sure.

Six, Because this would cost some money, I plan to do some fund raising. That’s going to be excellent experience for me…being again, my interest in Non Profit management. As well with my interest in grass-roots organizing and activism anyhow.

Seven, well, because it’s just so awesome!

Yeah. So, I’m tired. I have a bit of homework. And, my back really hurts.

Laters!

-Chris

Posted by drpooville_Admin as Personal Endeveavors at 7:33 PM PDT

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