Thursday, February 15, 2007
MY FOX TV AGENT ALWAYS WITH A POSITIVE NOTE AS WE WAIT
These are 2 attempts we have made to get the Race to space show going and you in association.
Stay positive were almost there, Robert.
February 13, 2007
DOW JONES REPRINTS
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In Race to TakeTourists Into Orbit,Partners Split, Spar
Bragging Rights DividedSpaceShipOne Creators;Virgin's $250 Million Bet
By ANDY PASZTORFebruary 13, 2007; Page A1
When the suborbital craft SpaceShipOne first lifted off from the Mojave desert in June of 2004, it ignited lofty dreams of space travel for tourists. Now, it's fueling a feud between its two creators.
Partners Burt Rutan, a famous aerospace designer, and Jim Benson, an entrepreneur, envisioned that passengers would pay $200,000 for the ultimate joy ride -- a roughly two-hourlong flight reaching 3,000 miles per hour and more than 60 miles above the earth.
But after sparring over who deserves credit for various aspects of SpaceShipOne, the two men are now fierce competitors. They are working on two separate ventures and are currently in a race to become the first to offer commercial flights into space.
Last fall, Mr. Benson set up Benson Space Co., declaring that he intended to beat Mr. Rutan and his new partner, British billionaire Sir Richard Branson, to the launch pad. Mr. Benson hopes to offer paying passengers the first regular rides as soon as December 2008 -- potentially many months before the Rutan-Branson venture, called Virgin Galactic.
The dispute between Messrs. Rutan and Benson centers on who developed key parts of the novel rocket motor that powered the red-white-and-blue SpaceShipOne on two consecutive flights to space in less than two weeks. Using a mixture of rubber and laughing gas as fuel, the motor, say proponents, is simpler to operate and less prone to accidental explosion than conventional rocket engines.
Mr. Rutan conceived, built and tested the bullet-shaped spacecraft while Mr. Benson focused on the intricacies of the rocket motor. Mr. Benson, who acquired the preliminary concepts and drawings from a now-defunct company, says his crew spent months perfecting them. "SpaceShipOne would not have happened without us," he says. He claims his team "designed and built every single part and component" except for the bell-shaped exhaust nozzle at the rear and the outside motor casing.
Not so, according to Mr. Rutan. He says the Benson team's work was limited to a valve and some plumbing inside the engine -- not the most-challenging components that had to be engineered to withstand 5,000-degree temperatures. "We've had an enormous dispute with Jim Benson for fraudulently claiming that he developed the rocket propulsion system" for SpaceShipOne, Mr. Rutan says.
Mr. Benson has challenged his foe "to sit down in a public forum and go over the 200 emails" detailing core engine contributions.
The showdown features two self-assured and stubborn rivals, both used to getting their way.
Mr. Rutan views himself as a 21st-century match for the feisty-spirited Wright Brothers. Known for his signature leather aviator jacket and mutton-chop sideburns, he has long dismissed government aviation and space officials as unimaginative -- saying they are more interested in pushing paper than exploring new frontiers. He frequently calls the National Aeronautics and Space Administration the department of "naysay."
Pilot Brian Binnie stands atop SpaceShipOne, the winner of the $10 million ANSARI X PRIZE, Oct. 4, 2004, in Mojave, Calif.
A secretive sort, Mr. Rutan built his reputation by bucking conventional wisdom about aerodynamics. In the 1980s, he and his closely held Scaled Composites aviation shop gained international recognition for designing and building Voyager, a graceful twin-engine propeller plane that completed the first nonstop flight around the world without refueling.
Mr. Benson, a geologist by training, is more attuned to the demands of marketing and finance. He made his fortune in the computer industry in the 1990s by developing a path-breaking search engine able to manipulate text files.
Mr. Benson sold his two software companies to a group of private investors in 1995 for about $10 million. He invested most of that to set up SpaceDev Inc., a parts supplier for commercial and government space systems, in August 1997. Later that year, the company went public. Today, SpaceDev has 220 employees in three states. Volatile from the beginning, the company's stock at one point climbed to around $8 a share but is now trading at below $1.
Mr. Benson says he believed early on that space ventures, once they were run by pragmatic managers, "would probably create the first trillionaires." Rather than starting from scratch, his philosophy has been to save time and money by exploiting and improving upon existing technologies.
As Mr. Rutan solicited proposals from several firms for rocket motors in 2000 and 2001, he was increasingly drawn to Mr. Benson's track record as a manager and businessman. With funding from billionaire Paul Allen, the two men formally joined forces in 2003 to create SpaceShipOne.
It didn't take long for their cordial relationship to turn frosty. Tim Pickens, an engineer initially in charge of supervising work on SpaceShipOne's rocket motor, says Mr. Rutan frequently fumed about what he considered the engine-maker's penchant for publicity and skirting nondisclosure agreements.
Even before the design was fixed, the Benson team was jockeying for the best position for its own SpaceDev corporate logo on the rocket ship, according to Mr. Pickens. At the time, Mr. Pickens recalls wondering "how much of Benson's effort was really designed for public relations."
Mr. Benson remembers some talk about displaying logos of various suppliers as a "nice tip of the hat" for their contributions. Mr. Rutan's reaction to that suggestion was comparable to "hitting a brick wall at 60 miles an hour." Mr. Rutan's demand for no logos prevailed.
Animosity between the two men increased, with exchanges of sharp emails. Mr. Rutan even threatened to file suit to block public discussion about the motor. (He says he never did, to avoid the expense and distraction of litigation.)
Yet when a small army of journalists and television crews assembled for the final launch, in the fall of 2004, supporters of Mr. Benson energetically waved large signs in the crowd proclaiming SpaceDev was responsible for the engines.
The successful flight earned Mr. Rutan the $10 million Ansari X Prize prize, bestowed by a private foundation for spaceflight innovation. After the hoopla of the win subsided, the two men went their separate ways.
Almost immediately, Mr. Rutan linked up with the flamboyant Mr. Branson, who has since committed an estimated $250 million to take his Virgin trademark into orbit aboard an eight-passenger version of SpaceShipOne. Mr. Rutan says he and his employees are designing and fabricating a new, upgraded engine.
Mr. Rutan quips that rivals such as Mr. Benson and Amazon.com founder Jeff Bezos -- who built a spaceport in Texas and is working on his own rocket ship -- aren't "really even in the same business," since none of them have yet accomplished the basic task of flying a reusable rocketship into space. A spokesman for Mr. Bezos had no comment.
Mr. Benson, pushing his vision just as hard, has talked about raising $50 million to build and test a rocketship based on a 1980's-vintage U.S. government design resembling today's Space Shuttle. "I haven't been as flamboyant, and haven't had as much money" as Mr. Rutan, he says. "But I think he's worried, and he ought to be worried."
In the next few weeks, Mr. Benson plans to announce a nationwide competition to hand out free rides aboard his spacecraft. Lately, Mr. Benson has resorted to what may be the ultimate insult: refusing to name Mr. Rutan as his true rival. At this point, Mr. Benson says, "we have Benson competing with Branson."
Write to Andy Pasztor at firstname.lastname@example.org
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THREW THE STAR GATE AND BEYOND
FRIEND PAUL HEY ITS COLD IN AH DOWN THERE SOUTH
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
day after tomorrow real not fiction
Sunday, February 11, 2007
we need peace
Kucinich Attacked For Standing for Peace - Dennis needs your help
This past weekend, thousands of people flooded the halls of Congress to lobby in favor of Congressman Dennis Kucinich’s legislative proposal to enact a Department of Peace. Yesterday, a Cleveland area PUBLIC radio station lambasted Congressman Kucinich and his proposed Department of Peace without fully gathering the facts.
WCPN carried an interview today in which the talk show host, Daniel Moulthrop, raised questions about Congressman Kucinich’s proposal for a Department of Peace by asking his guest on the show, Chris Maag, what he thought about it. The Department of Peace addresses domestic abuse, spousal abuse, and other violent crimes. Chris Maag, a freelance writer for the New York Times and Time Magazine, went on to describe Congressmen Kucinich as "a clown, lazy," and falsely chastised the Congressman for not doing anything about what were clearly local law enforcement issues.
In 2001, almost 21,000 homicides and 31,000 suicides occurred and almost 1.8 million people were assaulted. Homicide was the second leading cause of death for people ages 10 to 24. The annual cost of treating gunshot wounds is over $200 billion. Cutting and stab wounds cost an additional $51 billion. The cost of violence, though, cannot be measured only monetarily. To address this culture of violence, Congressman Kucinich, along with 52 of other congressional co-sponsors, has reintroduced the Department of Peace legislation.
On the radio show, Moulthrop’s guest Chris Maag criticized Congressman Kucinich and his proposal for a Department of Peace while simultaneously claiming that the Congressman is doing nothing to address the issues of crime and violence.
Call WCPN today at 1-877-399-3307 and DEMAND that they provide the Cleveland area with the real facts about the Department of Peace and that Moulthrop apologize to Congressman Kucinich for belittling such an ambitious and widely supported legislative proposal. Urge them to read the Department of Peace legislation.
Please send a positive yet assertive message to WCPN about the Department of Peace and Congressman Kucinich’s vigilant work ethic to usher in a culture of nonviolence into America. Send emails to news@WCPN.org or go to the response box. Also, please call the radio station at 216-916-6100 or toll free at 877-399-3307.
Also, in addition to your phone calls, please help Dennis promote the true message of peace by contributing to Dennis' courageous stand for peace in our homes and communities.
Thank you for all of your help,
Please support Dennis's work by making a contribution at http://kucinich.us/contribute, and by forwarding this message widely.To be removed from this list, simply send an email to email@example.com with the word REMOVE in the subject line. Thank you.
Paid for by Kucinich for President 2008, Inc.
PSYCHO PICKTON ON MY OTHER BLOG
JUST SOME OF THE CREDITS OF DR. RAUSCHER
Dr. Rauscher was a nuclear scientist and researcher at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, and at Stanford Research Institute, Professor of Physics at John F. Kennedy University of California, research consultant to NASA and the U.S. Navy, and is a member of IEEE, APS, AAAS, MAA, ANA, AAMI. She served on the Congressional OTA Advisory Committee, and has been Delegate and advisor to the United Nations on long-term energy sources and environmental issues.
Dr. Rauscher has been recognized for her major contributions in Marquis Who's Who of Men and Women in Science, Who's Who in California and in Technology Today, Leading Consultants in Technology, DOE top ten women in USA in science award, USPA Leaders of America Life Time Membership Award, Lota Sigma Pi fellow, Delta Delta Delta scholarships at UCB. She also received the award for Outstanding Contribution to Astronomy and Astrophysics, American Astronomical Society Meeting, Lawrence Hall of Science, and the CSPS Hall of Fame Award by the California Society for Physical Studies for Outstanding Research in Bioelectromagnetism, the Foundations of Quantum Theory, and Contributions to Humanity. She also received the Medal of Honor for contributions to Unity of the Sciences, Seoul Korea, and many other awards.
Dr. Rauscher has consulted and been an invited speaker at numerous forums in the USA, England, Europe, Japan, Korea, India, Africa, South America, Canada, Mexico, and Bermuda, and is author of over 200 scientific papers and four books. She holds 3 U.S. patents and 1 European patent.
SAD EVENTS WITH FRIENDS BUT OK
Interment at devotion, North Carolina
On January 4, 1995, the following death-notice appeared in the Winston Salem journal
ELDERLY SCIENTIST ORDERED EVICTED FROM REYNOLDS ESTATE DIES IN FALL
One of the three scientists ordered to leave the Surry County estate of Richard Joshua Reynolds died last night after suffering a heart attack and falling down a flight of steps.
Dr. Andrija Puharich, aged 76, fell about 7:15 p.m. Puharich was extremely frail and his health had been failing, said Susan Mandell, who took care of Puharich. Mandell said earlier that Puharich would not fight the magistrate's eviction order, and that he was waiting for his social security check because he couldn't afford to move.
The other scientists, Elizabeth Rauscher and William Van Bise, are fighting the eviction order, and said that Puharich had changed his mind and had filed to fight the eviction order.
The executor of the estate said that he had recently talked to Surry County Social Services to get Puharich involuntarily committed so he would get some medical help. "I knew he could not continue in that environment without first class medical attention."
To the people who had known Andrija Puharich, the news of his death came as a shock. Many knew that his health had been failing, but few were aware that, in spite of his frail condition, he was fighting an eviction order. It had all started in June 1994 when Richard Joshua Reynolds died.
In 1980, Josh, as his friends called him, had invited Andrija to the estate to study the effects of electromagnetic field on brain waves.
However, when he died, he had not provided for Andrija in his will. The executor handling the sale of the estate had no alternative than to ask Andrija to vacate the premises. The date was set for September 15, 1994. Andrija was resolved to leave, sadly, but nevertheless with all intent. However, in July 1994, he collapsed and was hospitaised. Examination showed severe diabetes; kidney failure, related to the diabetes; anemia, secondary to the kidney function; high blood pressure; progressive dementia, due to the anemia and lack of blood supply to the brain.
He had sudden violent outbursts, pulled out IV's and pulled off the telemetry patches. He also had a rash on his leg, a possible onset of gangrene.
The doctors advised Andrija to look for placement in a rest home, but he refused to even consider it. It was then decided to return him to the care of Susan Mandell, but to keep placement in a rest home in mind. On the day of his discharge Andrija was stable, talkative and in good spirits, but on the way home he suddenly developed generaised weakness and was re-hospitaised. A few days later he insisted again on leaving, and Susan signed him out.
If only he had not been so bull-headed he might still be alive.
Andrija Puharich was my former husband, and father of my two children, Yvonne and Andy. We knew that he was seriously ill, and that he had to leave the estate. We had therefore come from Holland - where we have lived since 1965 - for a possible last visit, and to help with the packing and moving. This had been four months ago, in September 1994.
Unfortunately at the last minute Andrija refused to go with Andy to upstate New York, where Andy had rented and furnished a small apartment for his father and Susan, not too far from Maritza, Andrija's daughter.
It was a sad ending of a difficult, but also wonderful visit. It was a time of lovingness. Danica, also a daughter from Andrija's first marriage had joined us, and in the evening we would all sit on the porch, enjoying the sound of the rushing stream some yards out in front, and the racket of the crickets. Andrija was like a child, loving every minute of our company. With a happy smile on his face he would look at each of us and say over and over again that we should do this more often. He thought it was Christmas, and he thanked me for getting the whole gang together. "You were always such a great organizer,'' he said.
It was wonderful to see how, because of this happiness, his periods of lucidity became longer each day. We acted like the lovebirds we once were, holding hands and chatting away, to the delight of the children. They had never seen their parents that way.
And now, only four months later we are back in North Carolina for the interment.
We sit together quietly as we drive through the rugged countryside in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains towards 'Devotion', the Reynold's estate.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Yvonne's hand on the black plastic box that contains her father's ashes. Her face is pale, her eyes large and dark. The same beautiful blue as her father's used to be. What is she thinking?
So much has happened since we left the Netherlands three days ago. After the call that Andrija had fallen down the stairs and died, we had taken the next possible flight from Amsterdam to North Carolina. Because none of the other children could come we had taken it upon us to fulfill Andrija's wish to be cremated.
I shudder as I remember the conversation with the gentleman from the funeral home. To perform an inexpensive cremation - there was no insurance, and no money - he would pick up Andrija's body at Mt. Airy hospital in Dobson, bring it to Greensboro - the only crematorium for Surry County - and execute the cremation as soon as possible. Thinking of the way it is done in the Netherlands. I had asked if we could be anywhere close by to sit in prayer, and if we could see the body.
"I'm sorry," he answered, "that's not customary. Besides, we might do the cremation at night."
"With nobody present, nobody to say goodbye to him?" I asked.
"I thought you wanted it as inexpensive as possible. If you want another kind of cremation..."
"No, but it sounds so cold and heartless. How will you bring Dr. Puharich to Greensboro?"
"In a body-bag, ma'am."
I couldn't believe what I heard.
Andy had handed me a tissue and put his arm around me, "papa taught us that the body is only a place where the soul lives temporarily", he said, "it is not him in that bag, mama."
I could tell by his voice that he too was shocked and in the eyes of Yvonne I saw the same.
"He also told us that the body is a temple for the soul. Even in the poorest part of India, they cremate their dead with respect," I had whispered.
Seeing our distress, the gentleman promised to deliver Andrija's ashes to the motel, so we could have a private ceremony.
Next to me, handsome in his dark suit, my son looks solemn. I know that he is thinking of how to conduct the ceremony, what to say. I would like to voice my feelings also, but I know that I won't be able to. Instead I'll read a last farewell that Phyllis Schlemmer, a long-time friend of Andrija, has given me. It is from Judith Skutch, another friend, and supporter of his work. Unable to come herself, she had faxed the message to Phyllis:
"Beloved teacher... it is with tremendous gratitude that I celebrate your life today. You will never know how profoundly you influenced my life. There must be thousands of others who can say the same thing. Go in peace and watch over us. With love. "
Judith' words reflect my own feelings. Andrija had been my teacher also, and he certainly influenced my life profoundly. Although we were together for only seven years, we had known each other for nearly forty.
I had just turned 26 when I met Andrija. I was a happy girl, very much in love with a wonderful boy, with whom I was to go to Holland to visit my parents, and afterwards to India. How differently everything had turned out.
Meeting him after he had just taken his mentally ill wife to a hospital, Andrija -then Dr. Puharich, to me - begged me to take care 'temporarily' of his three daughters. When we were "young and foolish" and fell in love, my life changed drastically. Instead of going with my friend to Holland, I became a full-time mother of three little girls, and later of a daughter and son of my own.
After we had signed the papers necessary for the release of Andrija's body from the hospital the next day, we were surprised when asked if we wanted to see the deceased. Andy and I had said yes. but Yvonne did not feel up to it. The room we were taken to was nothing more than a storage room, a large closet where they, kept mops. pails, and other cleaning paraphernalia. The nursing supervisor, a nice lady, with a kind face and a soft compassionate voice, warned us that the body had not had any cosmetic treatment and was still as it was at the time of death. We nodded our understanding; glad that at least we were able to say goodbye. After she had put on surgical gloves, the supervisor opened a metal door in the corner of the room and pulled back the plastic shield that covered the body. Yvonne was right not to have come with us.
I wonder if I'll ever be able to erase this last memory of Andrija. His forehead was bruised from the fall down the stairs and under the hairline a wound was visible. His lower denture was gone, receding his lower jar grotesquely. Yet he had a peaceful expression as if he were merely asleep. I kissed his forehead, whispered my thanks for the love we had shared and the children he gave me, and wished him God speed. We were numb with grieve.
Crossing the last of six wooden bridges that span the Mitchell River, we are on the driveway that leads to the big old house. Such sadness, the whole place.
Inside the same filth and stench as in September, with zillion cats scurrying away. I can still hear Andrija's slippered feet shuffling towards the stairs. We had wondered how he still managed to get up and down, unaided and we had been afraid that one day he would slip.
Quickly I go outside to the porch where he used to sit by the hour, enjoying the sound of the rushing stream. I watch the people assembled talking to the reporter from The Charlotte Observer.
Phyllis, and Henry Belk, a businessman from North Carolina, are the only people I know. Israel Carmel is there too. He is a healer and Phyllis' husband. Another medium, like Phyllis, is Mary Myer. She has brought a portable cassette player and a bouquet of red roses. Joseph, her husband is an engineer and a psychical researcher. Also Elizabeth Rauscher, the other scientist who faces eviction, is present. We are waiting for Susan.
Off to the side I spot Kenneth, the caretaker of the estate. He is a big, burly, bearded man with the kindest eyes I have ever seen. When I had first met him in September, he wore a cowboy hat and, what looked like a shark-tooth necklace on his hairy chest. He carried a knife and a gun, "to protect me from snakes," he said. He was at the time with his little daughter, and his tenderness towards her, belied his stern exterior. He and his wife had come to love and respect Andrija.
I touch the small gold wedding band on my right hand ring finger. Not wanting it any longer, I had given it to Yvonne many years ago. "Maybe you want to wear it today," my thoughtful daughter had said.
When Susan appears, Andy asks us to follow him to the bridge for the scattering of the ashes ceremony. He is hugging a white porcelain urn close to his heart.
"I welcome you all on this sad day to say goodbye to a man who has meant a great deal to each and everyone of us at one point or other during his life on planet Earth. I thank you for coming. Some of my dad's friends couldn't be here today, but they have faxed their good-byes. May I ask you to read them, and your own farewells, out loud, please."
While in the background the music softly plays, I listen to the words of love, admiration, and gratitude for Andrija's "pioneering spirit; his courage to tread new paths and open new doors through which he guided others with kindness, generosity and humor."
Although my voice quivers and tears make my vision blurry, I manage to read Judith' message, adding a few words of love of my own.
When all the good-byes are spoken, we stand in a circle and hold hands. Only the sound of flowing water overruns the silence. My daughter's hand feels icy, as must mine feel in hers, and we tighten our grip.
After Andy has given us a chance to touch the urn, or the ashes, as most of us do, he tips the urn over the railing of the bridge. "Goodbye daddy," he whispers, "have a save journey to the other side."
One by one we drop a red rose into the churning water of the Mitchell River and watch them float away. When everybody leaves, we remain behind for a last farewell of our own. A white patch in the river marks the end of an era," as Elizabeth Rauscher had poignantly stated.
Back at the motel the topic of conversation is of course Andrija.
"Such a remarkable man."' I hear Phyllis say. "It was a joy working with him. I have just rewritten my, book The Only Planet Of Choice. I feel that Andrija as the founder of the original group that worked with the Council of Nine should be in it too."
Many years ago I had beard about "The Nine" from Andy, who or what they were I had no idea.
With mischievous eyes and his typical southern drawl, Henry Belk remembers the "fun" he had with Andrija. "All those wonderful things we did together forty years ago. Do you remember Peter Hurkos?" he asks me. 'I brought him to the United States to be studied by André."
"Sure, I remember!' " I wonder if he ever knew how angry I used to be with him when Andrija, on more than one occasion had stayed away most of the night giving demonstrations with the psychic Hurkos in order to get financial support for his research from Henry's friends.
Listening to the people talk about Andrija, I reaise that I hardly know anything about the work he did for the past twenty years. For a long time after I had left I maintained an interest in his work, but in 1974, I got fed up with him. This was undoubtedly also the reason why his three daughters were not present today. Asked about this by the reporter, who had read somewhere that Dr. Puharich had six children, I had excused their absence as being due to out of state residence, work and family commitments. Besides, I told her, they knew that their father was seriously ill and said goodbye when they visited him in July and September of 1994.
All, except one, I reflect, and I wonder how old Athena now is. Is she fifteen or sixteen? She is Andrija's youngest daughter from his fourth marriage. Maybe she doesn't even know that her father died. I hope that one day she'll believe that he did love her very much, as he did all his children.
Although I too had felt unloved often enough, I always tried to convince them that they were wrong. Socrates, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, and many other great minds weren't the best of husbands and fathers either. Were they incapable of love?
I remember Andrija telling somebody that the happiest time of his life with me had been when we were together in his study, both reading and studying while his three little girls were safe and snug in their beds. Another time, we had five children by then, he said that when he was away he missed us achingly, but while at home he took us for granted. Many years later he asked me why I had always been so angry with him and why I had left him? He really didn't know.
To my surprise I hear somebody say: "Andrija was such a spiritual man.
"He must be kidding! Andrija was fascinating and exciting. "Never a dull moment with Puharich," as a friend of us used to say, but spiritual? To me a spiritual person has overcome the desire for worldly goods or acclaim. The Andrija I knew certainly did not fit that bill. He must have spirituaised later.
"Are you all right, Bep? You're so quiet"
"I'm sorry, Phyllis. I was thinking of the past."
"The death of a loved one usually brings that on. I hope you'll also remember the good things you shared. Andrija was not an easy person to live with. Especially for the women in his life he was difficult. How are his daughters taking the death of their father?"
"I don't know, I haven't spoken to them about it."
'When are you flying back home?"
"On the twenty-second of January. I'll spend some time with Maritza and my grandchildren first. Andy, Yvonne and I are driving to New York tomorrow."
"Please say hello to Maritza."
'Well, I'm afraid we have to leave. It was wonderful of you and your beautiful children to have come."
"Nice seeing you again, Phyllis. Thank you for contacting Andrija's old friends."
"You're welcome, dear. It was the least I could do."
Later that evening I asked Andy to enlighten me on the "Council of Nine."
"It's a long story," he answered, "but to put it in a nutshell, it's a circle of universal beings living outside time and space."
"Oh!" And Phyllis is the medium through which these beings speak` "Don't sound so skeptical, mama. Phyllis has convinced many scientists that she is a genuine medium."
"I'm sure she is, but I'm a bit confused. I didn't reaise that the Nine also have to do with outer-space stuff. Uri Geller was also a medium, wasn't he?"
"Yes, sort of. An extra-terrestrial, called Hoova spoke through him. They all work towards the same goal."
"To warn us that the earth is in deep shit and about to destroy itself. Have you ever read Uri?"
"I tried to, but it was too much hocus pocus for me. Maybe I'll try again."
"You should. By the way, you still have 'Briefing For the Landing on Planet Earth' I lent you. Read that too. It's a very good book, written by an objective observer of the channeling sessions."
"The sessions when Phyllis is in trance."
"There's so much I don't know! Are you familiar with the Nine, Yvon?"
"Not really, but I hope to be soon. Phyllis has asked me to translate her book. Apparently a Dutch publisher has shown an interest."
"How wonderful! Just the thing you said you'd like to do, being involved with daddy's work. Maybe..."
"Hey you guys!" Andy interrupted, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a beer, and some television."
"One more question and then I'll leave you two. When you were fourteen, Andy, you told me that you were a space-kid. What did you mean by that?"
"That any minute now my eyes will turn green. Next my antenna will pop out of my head, and I'll beam you to your room. I'll tell you another time, mama. Goodnight!"
That night I lay awake long. Could it be true that Andrija had been in contact with space intelligence? Who was this "Maverick," as he used to call himself?
Was he, to quote Aldous Huxley: "One of the most brilliant minds in parapsychology"? Or had he been a man who was easily misguided by so-called psychics, a man who told tales, or had he been crazy? During my short marriage to him I had often accused him of being too gullible, too naive. I had admired his brilliant mind, and begged him to use it for research that would benefit mankind. For a while he did, when he and a friend worked on a hearing aid that would give sound a new route to the brain - through the teeth and facial nerves. The device, for which a patent was granted, would eventually consist of a miniature microphone and transmitter, to be worn on the wrist, or carried in a pocket, and a miniature receiver to be installed in a hollow false tooth. Through contact with nerve ends in a live tooth next to the false one, electric signals would be transmitted via the dental and facial nerves to the brain. How proud I had been when Andrija told me jubilantly that they had made a deaf person hear. All they had to do from there on was to bring the complex equipment down to portable size.
He had stumbled upon the possibility of nerve conduction as a means of helping the deaf, by accident. When he and his friend Joe Lawrence were both captains at the Army Chemical Center in Edgewood, Md., (Andrija in the Medical Corps and Joe in the Dental Corps) Andrija treated a boy who suffered from hearing voices in his head. When he learned that the boy was a cutter, and that he worked with carborundum stones, he had Joe replace the fillings in his teeth.
His assumption, that if carborundum dust came into contact with amalgam fillings the tooth would operate as a radio receiver, had been correct. The voices in the boy's head stopped.
Too bad Andrija had not pursued the research. It may have given him the recognition he later on in life felt was withheld from him.
After we had returned to the Netherlands, we received the obituary that a friend of Andrija's had sent to the N.Y. Times Newspaper and Time Magazine.
She had also faxed it to newspapers in London. Reykjavik. Philadelphia, Miami, Chicago and Los Angels: DIED, ANDRIJA PUHARICH, M.D. LLD. 76 - internationally acclaimed American scientist, inventor, researcher, physicist, theorist, and author - of heart failure, in North Carolina. Editor of "THE ICELAND PAPERS" (Select Papers on Experimental and Theoretical Research on the Physics of Consciousness) 1979.
Dr. Puharich was a leader in the field of psychical research, merging quantum mechanics and relativity into a new scientific world-view to examine the way in which brain/mind function gives rise to a focused consciousness.
Member of many scientific societies and recipient of numerous awards and honors, Dr. Puharich's many friends and colleagues knew him as a true Renaissance Man. Six children and three grandchildren survive him.
To write an obituary about Andrija must have been difficult. What to put in? He had done so many things. In addition to The Iceland Papers and Uri he wrote The Sacred Mushroom, 1959, and Beyond Telepathy, 1962, both published by Double day & Company, and both reissued in 1974 by Doubleday in paperback editions. He also collaborated on a book by John G. Fuller, Arigo, Surgeon of the Rusty Knife, and published over fifty papers and articles in scientific and professional journals.
It was then and there that I decided to have a try at writing Andrija's biography. Not only to satisfy my own curiosity as to what had made Andrija such a controversial figure, but hopefully also to bring to the children a better understanding of their father.
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Wednesday, February 07, 2007
very kind from a special person thanks sandy
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
SANDY FOX ALWAYS SHINEING LIGHT INTO DARKNESS
Saturday, February 03, 2007
DAVID SEREDA ON FOX TV
"Heartland" is "live" 8-9PM EST / 5-6PM PST ... and it repeats 12AM EST/9PM PST
-- repeats again 4AM EST / 1AM PST
As of today, it looks like *your* segment will air around 8:45PM EST / 5:45PM PST.
>From predictions to trailers, check out the MSN Entertainment Guide to