The Need for a College Education

I notice that education has come under attack again. For examples, a Washington Post article challenges the value of a college education, and the Town Hall website suggests that many people should start a business rather than go to college. It’s become a trendy thing, challenging the value of a college education. It’s also a very risky thing, and many of the challenges are intellectually dishonest.

According to the Small Business Administration, about half of all new businesses fail within 5 years. But the University of Buffalo released a study showing the failure rate to be much higher rate, at 80% failure within five years. It’s difficult to track precisely, but the general message should be clear that simply starting a business does not mean it will survive, let alone become successful. And it’s not hard to figure that while some business owners are unfortunate, failure to study, plan and work hard will contribute to failure. In other words, if someone is a poor student, they would probably be a poor business owner as well. The people attacking schools for failures miss the fact that intelligence, diligence and inspiration are uncommon traits, and it’s not the schools’ fault if someone does not do their work. They get worked up about the cost, but really , from a historic perspective it has always been expensive and difficult to get a really good education, and if someone really does their homework, so to speak, they can get their credentials for a lot less than some other people. But the main reason the challenges fail, is because the challengers do not understand the basic purpose and function of collegiate education in the first place.

My dad grew up in the Depression. His first job was a factory shift when he was 8 years old. The child labor laws were not of much concern to folks in those days, nor were safety or compensation standards. He came to believe that the key to getting a better life was to get a solid education, so he earned a Bachelor’s in Chemical Engineering and a Masters in Mathematics. He also took some business courses at Wharton. My father made it clear to all of his children, that he expected us to do as well as possible in school. My mom earned a Bachelor’s in Sociology, and four degrees were earned by the four children, in six majors. My brother did not earn a degree, my sister and I earned a Bachelor’s degree in Literature and I later earned my MBA, and my other sister triple-majored in Chemistry, Physics, and Business for her Bachelor’s. Between my parents and us kids, we earned seven degrees plus certifications in nine majors at seven different universities. I believe I can claim we represent broad experience in education.

Besides the practical value my dad felt that advanced education represents, my father also felt that education was mental exercise, a vital need to seek intellectual growth just the same as we should use nutrition and physical exercise to develop our bodies, and join religious and ethical organizations to grow as moral individuals. Long before continuing education became commonplace, my dad believed and taught that a person should never consider their education complete or finished. I mention this because my values largely follow the same line of opinion. I also think that these additional points need to be included in the discussion.

Let’s start, then, but addressing the biggest real problem in the college decision – most young students are not able to make a good decision about college on their own. We live in a world where people get into routines and tend to do what they believe is expected from them. So a lot of kids know by the end of high school whether they are going to college, not because they have thought out the decision with the care it should be given, but because they know what is expected. The decision will only be about cost, opportunity, difficulty, or value to a very small degree; it will generally be about what the person’s family and friends say and do about the matter. As a result, if you are friends or family with someone going into their last couple years of high school, or if they talk about deciding on going to college, speak up and let them know what you think.

The next thing to consider is the career path you want to follow. The people criticizing college seem to imagine that only college students have hard choices. But for good or ill, life in general is hard and a lot of young people have no real idea what they are getting into when they choose their lifestyle. Media is not helpful; the celebrities and glamorous people we see in movies and television, look, they are just not normal folks. In fact, even the stars and athletes often warn folks that the image does not match even their own reality. Most new businesses fail, as I said earlier, so the idea that kids coming out of high school should plan on being the next instant millionaire is pretty close to being complete fiction. And working for a living straight out of high school with no special training or advance education, is a ticket straight to hard times and a poor future. When you get right down to it, what everyone needs to do is reach a place where they understand the three circles of their career horizon; what you are able to do, what you want to do, and what someone is willing to pay you to do. That’s it, simple but hard to work out. And answering those questions takes the ability called critical thinking, which is not often taught anywhere these days. I’m not saying you get perfect results from talking things out with your family and friends, or from trying to figure out what you want to be in 20 years, but you’ll definitely get a better sense of which path is better for your situation right now.

The decision about education also can be seen as a window of opportunity. Back when I graduated high school, there was really only one way to go to a decent school; full-time at a school and on-campus, living in the dorm and basically immersing yourself totally in the school’s culture. And in those days, almost everyone at college started right after high school; the older students were generally military veterans or professionals seeking advanced degrees and certification. Alternatives to traditional colleges existed, but these were generally night schools and were commonly regarded as inferior educational opportunities. Today, the demographic is much broader as is the window of opportunity. In addition to full and part-time campuses, there are online courses, commuter campuses, and a number of flexible options. Accreditation insures the quality of education provided, and the smart individual can check out a school on virtually any desired criteria prior to submitting an application. Cost, regimen, focus and degree criteria can all be determined and compared, and should be weighed in balance to the student’s need. The days of one-size-fits-all are long gone, and it is well that they should be.

The critics of modern education blame the schools, which is sometimes deserved, and a culture which demands a degree for most professional positions, or to advance in a company. What these critics fail to consider, is that the student has the right and responsibility to choose their path, that there is good historical reason for believing that higher education produces, generally, superior employees, and the critics completely fail to grasp that non-collegiate careers are generally limited, low-paying, and, well, dismal. This is another reason why anyone deciding about college should talk carefully with their family and friends – the consequences of the decision are literally life-changing, and you should not make a decision that important on the advice of strangers.

A college degree does not guarantee a person is competent, nor intelligent, nor really much of anything. But if you’re considering hiring them for your company, your part includes interviewing them and asking the right questions. There’s no use blaming the educational system if you get lousy people because you make a choice on appearances and don’t find out about the person you’re bringing aboard. Same thing if you’re considering education for any other reason; you need to find from the individual what he or she really understands and about their character and personality. Come to that, if you choose to enroll at a college, and the courses you take do not challenge you, force you to grow, then it’s your responsibility to do something about it. College-level students are presumed to be adults, and adults are responsible for their decisions and choices. Choosing the right school, the right regimen, and working hard to produce your best possible results can change your life for the better, but simply going to college is not enough. Conversely, while a college graduate is not guaranteed to be smarter or harder working than someone who did not go to college, a degree proves that the individual had enough initiative, intelligence, and follow-through to accomplish the degree, while not going to college proves nothing of the sort. Many companies require management candidates to have college degrees, because the degree demonstrates at least a minimal level of discipline and accomplishment; at the very least, a college graduate can be trained for somewhat detailed work and to gain additional skills. A college graduate has demonstrated at least a willingness to grow and expand his or her horizons.

The critics also have a habit of sneering at degrees they consider non-academic, especially business degrees. Of course, by that myopic mindset one should reject medical school for ignoring literature, law school for ignoring biology, and even the liberal arts for focusing on just one area within the academic realm. Never mind that most people go to college in hopes of acquiring a marketable skill, and many businesses sponsor executives to return to school for specific training relevant to their work. Anyone who sneers at a student with a 3.5+ GPA proves their self an idiot unworthy of further consideration. Work is work, and accomplishment which sets a student apart from his or her peers deserves praise and recognition. Some folks simply don’t understand case studies don’t work the same way as rote memorization, but still count for developing relevant competency, that skills-based coursework in quantitative analysis is as valid as traditional math, and serves a more direct application, and that simulations and models in business theory are as valid as in the ‘hard’ sciences. Perhaps more so, because modern scientists seldom seem willing to test their assumptions and double-check whether their models produced valid results. At least business students understand the Deming Cycle.

In the end, we each make our own choices regarding career and education, and it’s no one else’s fault if we make bad choices. We have all the tools we need to succeed, and while success is not guaranteed, opportunity is abundant and a college degree is, in general, still the best road to intellectual competency and financial success.

A Thief In Amber – Fifth Draft (Still Very Very Rough)

Some people are hard to kill. I don’t mean the moral decision to kill, but the difficulty in getting someone to die, who is stubbornly opposed to the idea. Some people are hard to kill because they are physically tough, some have one of those spirits that refuses to quit, and some are just plain durable.

And some spirits exist for the fight.

It was in the early days, before all the betrayals and family intrigues … OK, we always had those going on, but this was back in the days when we still imagined that we played by the rules. You couldn’t attempt to murder a sibling then, without at least feigning innocence, and alliance with genocidal maniacs was only allowed if said monsters were friends of Oberon.

So, when word got out that someone or something was making its way through the halls of Castle Amber at night, killing members of the staff and generally hurting the castle’s reputation for fine dining and keeping folks safe from threats to their safety, the family decided it was time to take matters in hand. And, being expected to take the lead, I did so.

Oberon, as he commonly did, was traveling and away from Amber. Caine and Gerard were at sea and therefore also unavailable. Dierdre and Llewellen on a diplomatic mission for the Golden Circle, Brand, Random and Eric were out of the city for reasons not known to anyone else in the family, or if known not shared with me. That, of course, was also a reason for me to take charge; it would gall Eric no end if I could resolve things before he even heard about them … and give me no end of amusement if I could find a way to suggest he was somehow responsible for the problem. I was in those years when I was trying to show up everyone else, and convinced I looked good doing it. So it was that four princes and two princesses gathered for dinner, as we often did when we wanted to discuss issues of importance, and to imagine ourselves civilized.

The food was fine. The conversation, however, was wholly unsatisfying. It soon became apparent that none of us knew what was really going on, had any idea who or what was behind the attacks, and no one wanted to appear as helpless as we all felt.

After dinner, we all went to the library for drinks, and a second try at strategy. That fell apart as soon we chose our drinks. I watched as we chose different drinks, then different seats. Hell, we weren’t even looking at each other. I tried logic, first sitting with Benedict, who usually presented the best plan for dealing with any threat to Amber, but Benedict was even less talkative than usual. I followed with Julian, who was still angry with me for a prior disagreement, and he refused to even acknowledge my presence.

And so it went until I came to Fiona.

I knew something was about, when she smiled at my approach. Fiona and I never shared amusements or ideals, so a smile from her could only come at my cost. It also struck as strange that she seemed to be enjoying the present crisis. Was she its instigator, or if not, what was the source of her pleasure in this moment? I chose a drink, a seat, and a gambit.

“Hello Fiona”, I said. “You couldn’t just kill your enemies in a duel, like anyone else in the family?”

Fiona glared at me for a moment, then that smile returned as she realized – all too quickly – that I was just trying to draw her out.

“You play at things you do not understand, Corwin”, she answered. “As usual.

“I have no interest in your word games, and I must say I disapprove of your manners, and their lack.”

“I am not playing a game here” I protested, “but hunting the cause and source of our present threat. It is an elusive bird, truth, one which seems to be hidden by at least one of our princesses.”

Fiona smirked and replied, “Whereas wit is a bird that eludes the hand of rather too many princes.”

I shrugged. “Your disapproval concerns me even less than usual, Fi. All things considered.”

She tossed her head, red hair like a fall of flame. “Yet, perhaps it should. All things considered.”

I did things with my own eyebrows, emptied my glass, swung my boots down from the table, and headed for the door.

She chuckled, behind me.

I stopped, refrained from turning, and waited. Fiona could never resist showing the rest of us that she was a step ahead. Or pretending to be.

“You are wearing your blade,” she said. “Good.”

I went out, uttering no clever comments. With at least three murderous ghosts stalking Castle Amber, the time for such things was past.’

Hours passed, as I waited with blade drawn and senses wary, sitting in the hallway outside a row of rooms where I thought an appearance most likely by one or more of our homicidal specters.

I guessed wrong. The most dangerous thing to pass my way that night was an odor wafting from Julian’s room. I could pretend it was some feral scent from our nocturnal attackers, but I am sure it was simply the unwashed aroma of a pair of his dogs. In any case, I saw no spirits floating about, encountered no need to use my weapon, and generally felt like I was wasting my time.

Until I heard Flora scream. Down another hall, and far from my chosen station. Naturally. Or un-naturally. Whatever.

I felt damn foolish as I ran towards Flora’s room, hoping my missed guess would not be a costly mistake.

Fortunately, the volume of Flora’s shouts was not matched by actual peril. That is, Flora was not a passive screamer; when assailed by spirits coming at her, as she claimed, from within the walls, she not only cried for help but began throwing things at her attackers. It was hard to tell if any of them was some effective weapon, or the sheer volume of makeup, jewelry, hair care items and mirrors had thwarted their aggression. For all I knew, Flora had surprised them as much as they surprised her. There was no way to be sure. For the moment, we all relaxed in the discovery that our disembodied attackers seemed able to make mistakes, and we felt more confident that we ourselves were perhaps immune to their threat.

Then Bleys found Julian, more than half-dead in his quarters. Julian did not appear for breakfast, and Bleys was the first to check his rooms. I began to wonder why I had not heard anything from my vigilant post, and why Julian’s dogs had done nothing to defend him.

Also, for some reason Julian had not worn his armor the previous night. That cost him. He had been attacked from behind, as was evident by the burn marks on his back. He had fought off his attackers, but his arms, back, and legs were badly burned. I wished I could ask Julian what he had seen, and how he had fought off his assailants, but he was in a coma from his injuries, or the same thing for practical purposes. Benedict saw to his wounds and set a guard to door, with instructions to call him the instant Julian awoke – or anything appeared that might be the spirit murderers coming to finish the job.

I was not friendly with Julian, but an attack on family trumped personal arguments. Besides, just as I stood to gain from Eric’s humiliation if I could solve a mystery he was not around to handle, so too I would suffer my own humiliation if I could not resolve the problem right in front of me – and if a brother prince died on my watch, especially one I was not close to, I could count on Eric making me pay for it. And Father had made it clear that he counted fratricide as unforgivable. Failing to protect a brother was guilt by omission, and I knew that no defense I could present would clear me unless Julian lived. And I resolved the mystery and destroyed the threat.

I spoke to Benedict again, and – while cryptic – his comments included suggestions on where I might try my next vigil, and when I might expect to meet my foes.

It was very late, or rather early, before one of the walls opened in a place where it should not have done, and something that was both silver and shadow joined me.

Grayswandir felt good in my hand as I put down what I was finished drinking anyway, and waited.

Patience, they say, is a chiefly a virtue for statues, but I’d made more than my share of mistakes, thus far, and blood is hell to get out of good rugs.

Came a whisper, out of darkness. “Corwin, is it time?”

A fight for my life, I expected. Temporal confusion from the spooks, I have to admit, I did not see coming.

“No, go back to sleep”, I tried. OK, not a brilliant strategy, but I was tired and didn’t expect the question anyway.

There was a moment of silence, then the forms began to take shape. I expected something, I don’t know, human-like and perhaps demonic. These were, after all, undead spirits seeking to kill the living. Nor was I wrong.

Not exactly.

The attackers swirled into the room like sentient fog, and quickly surrounded me. I suddenly realized something was behind me, taking more substantial shape, and – I felt dread rush up my spine – preparing to strike me the same it had attacked Julian.

Something like lightning flashed, and surprised me. Mostly because the lightning came from inside the room … from Grayswandir.

I jumped to my feet, swinging up Grayswandir with one arm as I threw the book behind me into the – face? – of my posterior assailant. I heard the book smack into something, which swore as if hurt, and I pivoted, putting my back against the wall while swinging my sword into a guard position. Then I stopped.

That was a mistake.

The spirits, once the sword, stopped moving, resumed their attack, and I felt a crackle of something hot shoot past my head, striking the wall hard as if a crossbow bolt. Something else, like a burning lasso, wrapped my boots and tried to trip me. I hopped reflexively, brought my sword up again and swung it about me as if trying to burn cobwebs with a torch.

And shadows fled before me, and I was alone.

My book was on the floor, blackened. Damn. I watched lightning flicker and wondered if I would ever know what I fought, or why. Family politics seemed as tiresome as ever.

Three ghosts, Benedict had said, and had been on the brink of saying more ere his face had smoothed and he’d turned away.

Which meant he’d recognized the one he’d seen.

So had the lamplighter, before the ghost that slew him caught up with him and burned his skull bare, from within.

Coln had died, before that, and one of the cooks. Seven maids, or more by now, since.

Then they started on us. Flora had almost fallen to one, and then Julian. Almost.

We’re tough meat, we of Amber.’

Speaking of meat, I found myself famished. Deciding between preparing for a second round with the spooks, alerting the rest of the family to my attack, and getting an early breakfast, the stomach spoke with the greatest authority. Besides, I was somehow sure the attack for the night was done, and I needed to think through what had just happened before I spoke to anyone else. If one of us was behind the attacks, I had no intention of giving out thoughts on how to make sure I was properly killed next time.

I made my way to the kitchen and found it empty, as I hoped it would be. A half-dozen eggs, some cheese, ham and the appropriate spices produced a passable omelet, which I ate with coffee I made while I thought over the attack. I’m a good enough cook, but the quality of thoughts I considered diminished my appetite a bit.

I realized that I had to share my encounter, with at least one person. The attacks on Flora, then Julian so close afterwards showed that anyone could be next, and I had to help protect the innocent. If only I could be sure none among us was the guilty …

I decided on Benedict. He had shared the plan to catch out the spirits, so I already owed him a report on the attack for that reason. Also, he was the least likely to try a sneak attack on any of us – and if he had, his victims would not have survived. No, this was not Benedict’s trick, whatever it was.

I found him sitting with Julian. Julian remained still and lifeless, to all appearances. Enough to make his usual loquacity and stiff behavior seem positive ebullient. Benedict was not much more enthusiastic. I think I knew why. Julian was not so strong as some of us, but a prince of Amber should not be laid low so easily by anything. He seemed not to be resting, so much as lying helpless. That could be any one of us, even Benedict, and I could see that in Benedict’s thin, grim face.

“No change, Corwin”, said Benedict, as I entered the bedroom.

“So I see”, I answered. “But I have news for you.”

I handed Benedict the scorched book from my encounter as he rose from his seat. He looked at it, then met my eyes with his own.

“You encountered them, then?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Yes, but unlike you, I did not recognize any of them” I said, watching for a reaction to my observation. But Benedict remained solemn and still, as was his usual mood, even in happier times.

I waited for him to speak, but Benedict simply held my gaze, and after a moment. I continued.

“Yes, I was attacked”, I said. “Where you said they would likely be, and only an hour or so after the time you predicted. Which makes me curious, of course, how you knew …?”

I somehow expected Benedict to smile at being prescient, but he remained solemn. I also expected him to provide more helpful information, but I was wrong on that count as well.

“What do you know about this, Corwin?” asked Benedict, his left hand casually resting on the hilt of a dagger he had on his belt. There was no menace in his tone, but Benedict was clear in his meaning.

“Of the attacks? Nothing to speak of, Benedict.” I replied. “I told you my thoughts the last time we spoke, and I am trying to free us from who or whatever is attacking us.”

“Convenient, though”, remarked Benedict, “that you were the closest to Julian of us all, and yet you saw and heard nothing when he was attacked.”

“I know”, I protested, “and you know I would have arranged an alibi if I were going to attack Julian. Like, say, being away from Amber during the attacks?”

Benedict shook his head in irritation.

“Don’t start that stupid game again, of plots and intrigue, Corwin.”

“I won’t”, I replied, “as long as you agree to stop accusing me of being behind the attacks I’m trying to stop.”

Benedict sighed.

“All right”, he agreed. “But you were attacked, yourself, yet you have not yet told me about it.”

So I did. Including my reluctance to trust the full story to anyone in our family who might be the plotter behind the ghosts.

Benedict sighed again.

“I hate to agree with you on this, Corwin” he said, “but I sense that these attacks are part of something larger.

“And until we find a way to stop it, our danger will only grow.”

“So how do you think you escaped –” Benedict stopped and glanced down at Julian’s unmoving figure.

“Grayswandir” I said simply. “They’re afraid of it, for some reason.”

I remembered something just then.

“And I think Fiona knows they are afraid of it.” I continued. “The evening before Flora and Julian were attacked, she commented on my blade.”

Benedict grimly nodded.
“Go speak to Fiona” he said. We rose together, and he stopped for a moment in thought.

“Be direct,” he advised, “She will think she’s ahead of us, and she might be, but she might lose some of her nerve if you give her reason to think she could have missed something important.

“Good luck, Corwin” said Benedict. “Call me on my trump if you need me, but no matter what, be careful.

“Your blade may help protect you from these ghosts, but you still have to find the hand behind the spirit.” With that, Benedict turned his attention back to Julian.

But Fiona had anticipated more than my fight with the ghosts. Her room was empty, but she left a note in a sealed envelope addressed to me.

Of course, being Fiona, she had put a spell on the envelope which prevented anyone from opening it without saying the right phrase. I tried the normal and predictable phrases I knew she had used in the past to goad brothers and sisters, and since it was addressed to me I included ones she had taunted me with, like ‘Fiona is wise, Corwin tells lies’, that kind of thing. A tired and juvenile game, but Fiona liked to play that kind of thing often.

But this time there were no such games. Fiona had laughed the last time we spoke, but it seemed her mood had changed by the time she wrote her note. I called up Benedict on his trump and explained the situation. He had no advice except to tell me to keep trying.

I kept at it for more than an hour, then threw down the envelope muttering, “I give up”.

The seal appeared and broke on the envelope. I seized it and pulled out the note.

‘Corwin, hello’ began the note. ‘That you are reading this proves either that I am a great fool and feared for no good cause, or that you are as strong as I believed … or as lucky.

‘I have left the Eternal City for the present, because the forces you fight are as unpredictable as they are strong. I know them well enough to give you information, and well enough to flee them while they present a threat to us all. My craft and skills are useless as weapons against them. You, however, have the means to resolve the matter, and sufficient luck that I trust you will survive. I have bet much on your success.’

I smiled grimly at Fiona’s confidence in betting my life on the matter.

‘Trust your sword but not your brothers’, the note continued, and I chuckled at Fiona repeating such a well-known maxim among us, ‘except one whose sword suits the need even better than your own. Ask him nicely …’

I stopped and pondered for a moment who the hell Fiona could mean, then went back to the last part of the note.
‘… and strike you both one step to the LEFT of where you normally aim. Strike twice, but not at yourself.

‘Good luck, Corwin.’

If I did not know her better, that last line would have made me wonder about Fiona’s state of mind. I handed the note to Benedict, rather than have to read those instructions out loud.

Benedict read the note twice, or else slowly, then looked me in the eye.

“She wrote this for you, Corwin. Any idea how she knew you’d be the one to find it?”

“None.” I replied. “Anymore than how she knew you’d be here.”

“She wrote nothing of me” protested Benedict.

“I think she did” I said. “That line about a sword better-suited than my own. With Eric and Brand not here, she has to have meant you.”

Benedict paused in thought for a moment, then nodded sharply.

“Actually, Corwin, she might know my weapons better than I do – at least one of them. I know of a blade which might help here, but I am surprised that Fiona would know of it.”

“She seems to know a lot more than she is revealing”, I commented . “Is that blade of your accessible?”

“Oddly, yes” said Benedict. “Fiona asked about it just last week, when all of this was still largely unknown for the threat it has become.

“It makes me wonder how she considered the threat,” he pondered. “As much as I hate to cast suspicion, Corwin, this point concerns me.”

“I also wonder”, I agreed, careful not to go further with my thoughts. I could not help but wonder, though, if my sister had not started something she found she could not control.

Benedict stopped to Julian’s door, said a few words and handed something small to the guards he had posted. Then he strode away, ostensibly to collect the blade he mentioned.

As I stood in the hall thinking what to do next, I heard a noise, and realized Julian was stirring. As I went to his doorway, one guard moved to stop me but the other waved him away, saying Benedict had cleared me.

“But no one else”, I heard him warn, as I entered Julian’s room.

Julian was conscious, and aware of his injuries. Every other word seemed an oath as he took stock of his condition. He attempted to get out of bed, then quickly thought better of that idea. As he settled back into bed, Julian noticed me for the first time.

“Here to gloat?” he inquired.

“Not at all”, I assured him. “I’m glad you’re going to be OK.”

Julian groaned.

“After I can move without searing pain, I might come to share that opinion”, he muttered. “For now I count myself glad to have survived the experience.”

“What can you tell me?”, I asked, deciding not to mention my own attack.

Julian opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I am not sure I am ready to discuss that”, he said.

“Even with lives at risk?” I countered.

“Even so”, said Julian. He held my gaze for a few moments, then closed his eyes and sighed.

“Look, Corwin”, said Julian, “I can’t say I like you, and I have reason to be wary of who may be behind all this.

“I am especially vulnerable just now, even with Benedict’s protection.”

“What if I can help?” I asked.

“You don’t know what you are saying”, retorted Julian. “I can hold my own against any man, I warrant, but if you had faced what I had to face, you would better understand what you are against.”

“But he has” broke in Benedict, who had returned to the room. “This is one reason I trust him in this.”

“I see no injuries on Corwin” responded Julian. “Convenient, don’t you think, that our brother here could escape unscathed, the spirits which have killed many and almost killed me.”

“Fiona supports Corwin”, answered Benedict.

Julian stared at Benedict, then shook his head.

“No offense, Benedict, but it would mean more to me to hear that from Fiona herself.”

“She is not here”, answered Benedict, “but she left a note for Corwin, and I have read it. Fiona trusts Corwin.”

Julian barked a short, harsh laugh.

“Fiona trusts no one, brother – surely you know that by now.”

“In this”, returned Benedict, “she does.”

Julian said nothing for a few moments, and Benedict and I stood by as well rather than break into his thoughts. Julian stared holes into me with his cold, blue eyes, but I held my silence, as did Benedict.

“One thing,” said Julian, when he was ready to speak again, “I have to know, is just how Corwin faced these ghosts and is no worse for the encounter, yet the ghosts remain.”

“The same reason,” broke in Benedict before I could answer, “that I faced them myself early on, yet could not resolve the matter then.

“These are not honorable enemies, to take risk along with opportunity, but more on the level of jackals, striking when they have the chance, but fleeing if the moment turns against them.”

Julian peered at Benedict with renewed suspicion.

“I heard that this happened,” he said, “but disbelieved it because I know you are more efficient, than to leave an enemy standing after the fight.”

Benedict shrugged.

“You have seen how they move, how they attack,” he reminded Julian. “If we knew their lair, I would attack right now.

“But we lack enough information, partly -” Benedict stopped and looked at me pointedly before turning back to Julian – “partly because we have not been open enough with each other about what we have encountered.”

Julian looked uncomfortable, Benedict looked concerned, and I tried my best to hide my confusion. All three of us had been attacked, but I could not imagine what I knew that I had not told to Benedict. That implied that Benedict believed that I and Julian knew something about the matter that we had kept private, and that he had withheld that same information from the family but believed Julian and I were in on his secret.

Julian stared hard at Benedict.

“Are you saying that we should tell the rest of the family that Osric and Finndo have come back to haunt us?” demanded Julian.

Oh, my. Julian’s question threw a switch in my mind and turned on a light. One of my attackers had looked like family, and now I thought on it could well have been the form of the late Osric. Come to that, Finndo was fond of using a crossbow, and the shot taken at me in our brief contest had sounded like a bolt hitting the wall.

Benedict looked uneasily at the door.

“If they have, then they are truly ghosts,” he said. “I saw them die, many years ago.”

Benedict seemed about to say more, but stopped himself. Julian and I looked at each other, then Julian said to Benedict, “If we are to be open, I should hope you would also choose to share what you know, brother.”

Benedict sighed.

“It’s not really relevant, and I have never shared what happened in that war.”

He turned away from us, as if to leave, but stopped, still facing away.

“If I come to believe that the way Osric and Finndo died is important to resolving this situation, then I will tell you directly.

“For now, I can only ask you to trust my judgment, that their appearance means something else.”

Again Julian and I looked at each other. Neither of us was happy about it, but Benedict, aside from Gerard, was the most trustworthy of us, and in any case neither Julian nor I could do much to compel Benedict to share his secrets. Damning, though, that we were once again at an impasse.

[ to be continued ]

A Thief In Amber – Fourth Draft (Still Very Very Rough)

Some people are hard to kill. I don’t mean the moral decision to kill, but the difficulty in getting someone to die, who is stubbornly opposed to the idea. Some people are hard to kill because they are physically tough, some have one of those spirits that refuses to quit, and some are just plain durable.

And some spirits exist for the fight.

It was in the early days, before all the betrayals and family intrigues … OK, we always had those going on, but this was back in the days when we still imagined that we played by the rules. You couldn’t attempt to murder a sibling then, without at least feigning innocence, and alliance with genocidal maniacs was only allowed if the said monsters were friends of Oberon.

So, when word got out that someone or something was making its way through the halls of Castle Amber at night, killing members of the staff and generally hurting the castle’s reputation for fine dining and keeping folks safe from threats to their safety, the family decided it was time to take matters in hand. And, being expected to take the lead, I did so.

Oberon, as he commonly did, was traveling and away from Amber. Caine and Gerard were at sea and therefore also unavailable. Dierdre and Llewellen on a diplomatic mission for the Golden Circle, Brand, Random and Eric were out of the city for reasons not known to anyone else in the family, or if known not shared with me. That, of course, was also a reason for me to take charge; it would gall Eric no end if I could resolve things before he even heard about them … and give me no end of amusement if I could find a way to suggest he was somehow responsible for the problem. I was in those years when I was trying to show up everyone else, and convinced I looked good doing it. So it was that four princes and two princesses gathered for dinner, as we often did when we wanted to discuss issues of importance, and to imagine ourselves civilized.

The food was fine. The conversation, however, was wholly unsatisfying. It soon became apparent that none of us knew what was really going on, had any idea who or what was behind the attacks, and no one wanted to appear as helpless as we all felt.

After dinner, we all went to the library for drinks, and a second try at strategy. That fell apart as soon we chose our drinks. I watched as we chose different drinks, then different seats. Hell, we weren’t even looking at each other. I tried logic, first sitting with Benedict, who usually presented the best plan for dealing with any threat to Amber, but Benedict was even less talkative than usual. I followed with Julian, who was still angry with me for a prior disagreement, and he refused to even acknowledge my presence.

And so it went until I came to Fiona.

I knew something was about, when she smiled at my approach. Fiona and I never shared amusements or ideals, so a smile from her could only come at my cost. It also struck as strange that she seemed to be enjoying the present crisis. Was she its instigator, or if not, what was the source of her pleasure in this moment? I chose a drink, a seat, and a gambit.

“Hello Fiona”, I said. “You couldn’t just kill your enemies in a duel, like anyone else in the family?”

Fiona glared at me for a moment, then that smile returned as she realized – all too quickly – that I was just trying to draw her out.

“You play at things you do not understand, Corwin”, she answered. “As usual.

“I have no interest in your word games, and I must say I disapprove of your manners, and their lack.”

“I am not playing a game here” I protested, “but hunting the cause and source of our present threat. It is an elusive bird, truth, one which seems to be hidden by at least one of our princesses.”

Fiona smirked and replied, “Whereas wit is a bird that eludes the hand of rather too many princes.”

I shrugged. “Your disapproval concerns me even less than usual, Fi. All things considered.”

She tossed her head, red hair like a fall of flame. “Yet, perhaps it should. All things considered.”

I did things with my own eyebrows, emptied my glass, swung my boots down from the table, and headed for the door.

She chuckled, behind me.

I stopped, refrained from turning, and waited. Fiona could never resist showing the rest of us that she was a step ahead. Or pretending to be.

“You are wearing your blade,” she said. “Good.”

I went out, uttering no clever comments. With at least three murderous ghosts stalking Castle Amber, the time for such things was past.’

Hours passed, as I waited with blade drawn and senses wary, sitting in the hallway outside a row of rooms where I thought an appearance most likely by one or more of our homicidal specters.

I guessed wrong. The most dangerous thing to pass my way that night was an odor wafting from Julian’s room. I could pretend it was some feral scent from our nocturnal attackers, but I am sure it was simply the unwashed aroma of a pair of his dogs. In any case, I saw no spirits floating about, encountered no need to use my weapon, and generally felt like I was wasting my time.

Until I heard Flora scream. Down another hall, and far from my chosen station. Naturally. Or un-naturally. Whatever.

I felt damn foolish as I ran towards Flora’s room, hoping my missed guess would not be a costly mistake.

Fortunately, the volume of Flora’s shouts was not matched by actual peril. That is, Flora was not a passive screamer; when assailed by spirits coming at her, as she claimed, from within the walls, she not only cried for help but began throwing things at her attackers. It was hard to tell if any of them was some effective weapon, or the sheer volume of makeup, jewelry, hair care items and mirrors had thwarted their aggression. For all I knew, Flora had surprised them as much as they surprised her. There was no way to be sure. For the moment, we all relaxed in the discovery that our disembodied attackers seemed able to make mistakes, and we felt more confident that we ourselves were perhaps immune to their threat.

Then Bleys found Julian, more than half-dead in his quarters. Julian did not appear for breakfast, and Bleys was the first to check his rooms. I began to wonder why I had not heard anything from my vigilant post, and why Julian’s dogs had done nothing to defend him.

Also, for some reason Julian had not worn his armor the previous night. That cost him. He had been attacked from behind, as was evident by the burn marks on his back. He had fought off his attackers, but his arms, back, and legs were badly burned. I wished I could ask Julian what he had seen, and how he had fought off his assailants, but he was in a coma from his injuries, or the same thing for practical purposes. Benedict saw to his wounds and set a guard to door, with instructions to call him the instant Julian awoke – or anything appeared that might be the spirit murderers coming to finish the job.

I was not friendly with Julian, but an attack on family trumped personal arguments. Besides, just as I stood to gain from Eric’s humiliation if I could solve a mystery he was not around to handle, so too I would suffer my own humiliation if I could not resolve the problem right in front of me – and if a brother prince died on my watch, especially one I was not close to, I could count on Eric making me pay for it. And Father had made it clear that he counted fratricide as unforgivable. Failing to protect a brother was guilt by omission, and I knew that no defense I could present would clear me unless Julian lived. And I resolved the mystery and destroyed the threat.

I spoke to Benedict again, and – while cryptic – his comments included suggestions on where I might try my next vigil, and when I might expect to meet my foes.

It was very late, or rather early, before one of the walls opened in a place where it should not have done, and something that was both silver and shadow joined me.

Grayswandir felt good in my hand as I put down what I was finished drinking anyway, and waited.

Patience, they say, is a chiefly a virtue for statues, but I’d made more than my share of mistakes, thus far, and blood is hell to get out of good rugs.

Came a whisper, out of darkness. “Corwin, is it time?”

A fight for my life, I expected. Temporal confusion from the spooks, I have to admit, I did not see coming.

“No, go back to sleep”, I tried. OK, not a brilliant strategy, but I was tired and didn’t expect the question anyway.

There was a moment of silence, then the forms began to take shape. I expected something, I don’t know, human-like and perhaps demonic. These were, after all, undead spirits seeking to kill the living. Nor was I wrong.

Not exactly.

The attackers swirled into the room like sentient fog, and quickly surrounded me. I suddenly realized something was behind me, taking more substantial shape, and – I felt dread rush up my spine – preparing to strike me the same it had attacked Julian.

Something like lightning flashed, and surprised me. Mostly because the lightning came from inside the room … from Grayswandir.

I jumped to my feet, swinging up Grayswandir with one arm as I threw the book behind me into the – face? – of my posterior assailant. I heard the book smack into something, which swore as if hurt, and I pivoted, putting my back against the wall while swinging my sword into a guard position. Then I stopped.

That was a mistake.

The spirits, once the sword, stopped moving, resumed their attack, and I felt a crackle of something hot shoot past my head, striking the wall hard as if a crossbow bolt. Something else, like a burning lasso, wrapped my boots and tried to trip me. I hopped reflexively, brought my sword up again and swung it about me as if trying to burn cobwebs with a torch.

And shadows fled before me, and I was alone.

My book was on the floor, blackened. Damn. I watched lightning flicker and wondered if I would ever know what I fought, or why. Family politics seemed as tiresome as ever.

Three ghosts, Benedict had said, and had been on the brink of saying more ere his face had smoothed and he’d turned away.

Which meant he’d recognized the one he’d seen.

So had the lamplighter, before the ghost that slew him caught up with him and burned his skull bare, from within.

Coln had died, before that, and one of the cooks. Seven maids, or more by now, since.

Then they started on us. Flora had almost fallen to one, and then Julian. Almost.

We’re tough meat, we of Amber.’

Speaking of meat, I found myself famished. Deciding between preparing for a second round with the spooks, alerting the rest of the family to my attack, and getting an early breakfast, the stomach spoke with the greatest authority. Besides, I was somehow sure the attack for the night was done, and I needed to think through what had just happened before I spoke to anyone else. If one of us was behind the attacks, I had no intention of giving out thoughts on how to make sure I was properly killed next time.

I made my way to the kitchen and found it empty, as I hoped it would be. A half-dozen eggs, some cheese, ham and the appropriate spices produced a passable omelet, which I ate with coffee I made while I thought over the attack. I’m a good enough cook, but the quality of thoughts I considered diminished my appetite a bit.

I realized that I had to share my encounter, with at least one person. The attacks on Flora, then Julian so close afterwards showed that anyone could be next, and I had to help protect the innocent. If only I could be sure none among us was the guilty …

I decided on Benedict. He had shared the plan to catch out the spirits, so I already owed him a report on the attack for that reason. Also, he was the least likely to try a sneak attack on any of us – and if he had, his victims would not have survived. No, this was not Benedict’s trick, whatever it was.

I found him sitting with Julian. Julian remained still and lifeless, to all appearances. Enough to make his usual loquacity and stiff behavior seem positive ebullient. Benedict was not much more enthusiastic. I think I knew why. Julian was not so strong as some of us, but a prince of Amber should not be laid low so easily by anything. He seemed not to be resting, so much as lying helpless. That could be any one of us, even Benedict, and I could see that in Benedict’s thin, grim face.

“No change, Corwin”, said Benedict, as I entered the bedroom.

“So I see”, I answered. “But I have news for you.”

I handed Benedict the scorched book from my encounter as he rose from his seat. He looked at it, then met my eyes with his own.

“You encountered them, then?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Yes, but unlike you, I did not recognize any of them” I said, watching for a reaction to my observation. But Benedict remained solemn and still, as was his usual mood, even in happier times.

I waited for him to speak, but Benedict simply held my gaze, and after a moment. I continued.

“Yes, I was attacked”, I said. “Where you said they would likely be, and only an hour or so after the time you predicted. Which makes me curious, of course, how you knew …?”

I somehow expected Benedict to smile at being prescient, but he remained solemn. I also expected him to provide more helpful information, but I was wrong on that count as well.

“What do you know about this, Corwin?” asked Benedict, his left hand casually resting on the hilt of a dagger he had on his belt. There was no menace in his tone, but Benedict was clear in his meaning.

“Of the attacks? Nothing to speak of, Benedict.” I replied. “I told you my thoughts the last time we spoke, and I am trying to free us from who or whatever is attacking us.”

“Convenient, though”, remarked Benedict, “that you were the closest to Julian of us all, and yet you saw and heard nothing when he was attacked.”

“I know”, I protested, “and you know I would have arranged an alibi if I were going to attack Julian. Like, say, being away from Amber during the attacks?”

Benedict shook his head in irritation.

“Don’t start that stupid game again, of plots and intrigue, Corwin.”

“I won’t”, I replied, “as long as you agree to stop accusing me of being behind the attacks I’m trying to stop.”

Benedict sighed.

“All right”, he agreed. “But you were attacked, yourself, yet you have not yet told me about it.”

So I did. Including my reluctance to trust the full story to anyone in our family who might be the plotter behind the ghosts.

Benedict sighed again.

“I hate to agree with you on this, Corwin” he said, “but I sense that these attacks are part of something larger.

“And until we find a way to stop it, our danger will only grow.”

“So how do you think you escaped –” Benedict stopped and glanced down at Julian’s unmoving figure.

“Grayswandir” I said simply. “They’re afraid of it, for some reason.”

I remembered something just then.

“And I think Fiona knows they are afraid of it.” I continued. “The evening before Flora and Julian were attacked, she commented on my blade.”

Benedict grimly nodded.
“Go speak to Fiona” he said. We rose together, and he stopped for a moment in thought.

“Be direct,” he advised, “She will think she’s ahead of us, and she might be, but she might lose some of her nerve if you give her reason to think she could have missed something important.

“Good luck, Corwin” said Benedict. “Call me on my trump if you need me, but no matter what, be careful.

“Your blade may help protect you from these ghosts, but you still have to find the hand behind the spirit.” With that, Benedict turned his attention back to Julian.

But Fiona had anticipated more than my fight with the ghosts. Her room was empty, but she left a note in a sealed envelope addressed to me.

Of course, being Fiona, she had put a spell on the envelope which prevented anyone from opening it without saying the right phrase. I tried the normal and predictable phrases I knew she had used in the past to goad brothers and sisters, and since it was addressed to me I included ones she had taunted me with, like ‘Fiona is wise, Corwin tells lies’, that kind of thing. A tired and juvenile game, but Fiona liked to play that kind of thing often.

But this time there were no such games. Fiona had laughed the last time we spoke, but it seemed her mood had changed by the time she wrote her note. I called up Benedict on his trump and explained the situation. He had no advice except to tell me to keep trying.

I kept at it for more than an hour, then threw down the envelope muttering, “I give up”.

The seal appeared and broke on the envelope. I seized it and pulled out the note.

‘Corwin, hello’ began the note. ‘That you are reading this proves either that I am a great fool and feared for no good cause, or that you are as strong as I believed … or as lucky.

‘I have left the Eternal City for the present, because the forces you fight are as unpredictable as they are strong. I know them well enough to give you information, and well enough to flee them while they present a threat to us all. My craft and skills are useless as weapons against them. You, however, have the means to resolve the matter, and sufficient luck that I trust you will survive. I have bet much on your success.’

I smiled grimly at Fiona’s confidence in betting my life on the matter.

‘Trust your sword but not your brothers’, the note continued, and I chuckled at Fiona repeating such a well-known maxim among us, ‘except one whose sword suits the need even better than your own. Ask him nicely …’

I stopped and pondered for a moment who the hell Fiona could mean, then went back to the last part of the note.
‘… and strike you both one step to the LEFT of where you normally aim. Strike twice, but not at yourself.

‘Good luck, Corwin.’

If I did not know her better, that last line would have made me wonder at Fiona’s state of mind. I handed the note to Benedict, rather than have to read those instructions out loud.

Benedict read the note twice, or else slowly, then looked me in the eye.

“She wrote this for you, Corwin. Any idea how she knew you’d be the one to find it?”

“None.” I replied. “Anymore than how she knew you’d be here.”

“She wrote nothing of me” protested Benedict.

“I think she did” I said. “That line about a sword better-suited than my own. With Eric and Brand not here, she has to have meant you.”

Benedict paused in thought for a moment, then nodded sharply.

“Actually, Corwin, she might know my weapons better than I do – at least one of them. I know of a blade which might help here, but I am surprised that Fiona would know of it.”

“She seems to know a lot more than she is revealing”, I commented . “Is that blade of your accessible?”

“Oddly, yes” said Benedict. “Fiona asked about it just last week, when all of this was still largely unknown for the threat it has become.

“It makes me wonder how she considered the threat,” he pondered. “As much as I hate to cast suspicion, Corwin, this point concerns me.”

“I also wonder”, I agreed, careful not to go further with my thoughts. I could not help but wonder, though, if my sister had not started something she found she could not control.

Benedict stopped to Julian’s door, said a few words and handed something small to the guards he had posted. Then he strode away, ostensibly to collect the blade he mentioned.

As I stood in the hall thinking what to do next, I heard a noise, and realized Julian was stirring. As I went to his doorway, one guard moved to stop me but the other waved him away, saying Benedict had cleared me.

“But no one else”, I heard him warn, as I entered Julian’s room.

Julian was conscious, and aware of his injuries. Every other word seemed an oath as he took stock of his condition. He attempted to get out of bed, then quickly thought better of that idea. As he settled back into bed, Julian noticed me for the first time.

“Here to gloat?” he inquired.

“Not at all”, I assured him. “I’m glad you’re going to be OK.”

Julian groaned.

“After I can move without searing pain, I might come to share that opinion”, he muttered. “for now I count myself glad to have survived the experience.”

“What can you tell me?”, I asked, deciding not to mention my own attack.

Julian opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I am not sure I am ready to discuss that”, he said.

“Even with lives at risk?” I countered.

“Even so”, said Julian. He held my gaze for a few moments, then closed his eyes and sighed.

“Look, Corwin”, said Julian, “I can’t say I like you, and I have reason to be wary of who may be behind all this.

“I am especially vulnerable just now, even with Benedict’s protection.”

“What if I can help?” I asked.

“You don’t know what you are saying”, retorted Julian. “I can hold my own against any man, I warrant, but if you had faced what I had to face, you would better understand what you are against.”

“But he has” broke in Benedict, who had returned to the room. “This is one reason I trust him in this.”

“I see no injuries on Corwin” responded Julian. “Convenient, don’t you think, that our brother here could escape unscathed, the spirits which have killed many and almost killed me.”

“Fiona supports Corwin”, answered Benedict.

Julian stared at Benedict, then shook his head.

“No offense, Benedict, but it would mean more to me to hear that from Fiona herself.”

“She is not here”, answered Benedict, “but she left a note for Corwin, and I have read it. Fiona trusts Corwin.”

Julian barked a short, harsh laugh.

“Fiona trusts no one, brother – surely you know that by now.”

“In this”, returned Benedict, “she does.”

[ to be continued ]

The MBA, revisited 2011

I checked the details on my Sitemeter recently, and I see that I have been getting a bit more interest again in my comparison of online MBA programs. So, that means I should present my list of the Top Online MBA Programs a bit earlier this year. In 2009 and 2010, I presented the results in June but that appears to be later than most people considering schools find useful, so I will try to get the results in by April. I’m not re-doing the methodology this time, so the structure should stay consistent. For anyone interested in past results, here are the rankings from prior years:

2010 Results

2009 Results

and 2006 Results

I graduated from UHV in 2009, so there is a gap between 2006 and 2009 for that reason.

For anyone new to the site, I rank Online MBA programs because there are only a few places where you can find such rankings, and those rankings are often biased because the sites are paid to sponsor certain for-profit schools. Generally, if a school advertises on a website you should consider how objective – or not – the website’s ranking criteria should be counted. Having said that, I admit I have a bias, but that’s why I lay out my methodology and explain its weighting. You can back out my results and reweight to suit yourself. After all, it’s not supposed to be me telling you where to go, it should be about you getting information you need to make the best decision.

Which reminds me. I’ve been reading a lot about MBAs, and frankly there’s a lot of bad information out there about the degree, what it can do for you and why someone should consider the MBA. First off, yes, getting an MBA from a good school will improve your prospects for a good salary and promotion – IF you do good work and prove yourself to your employer. Because no matter what degree you have, what school you go to or what promises you make, in the end it’s a value question.

Stop for a minute and turn things around. Think about when you buy a car. Sure, you want a good-looking car with options and comforts, but you still have to consider first what you need the car to do, and what you can afford. People buy and lease low-end vehicles because they have to, after all. Well, when a business decides to hire for a position, they also have to start by considering what they need, and what they can afford. You also have an advantage, because you only apply for jobs that describe work you’d like to do, and a salary you’d accept. So you know, at least generally, what kind of job you’re chasing even before the potential employer knows anything about how well you’d do if they hire you.

A lot of folks figure they’re worth more than they are paid. This drives resentment, but it’s the wrong attitude. I’ve hired people who did not work out, and for the employer this is very irritating. For one thing, you have to start all over with another hire, and hope that this one will work out. Also, if you’re not careful you could end up with someone who meets your minimum requirements, but won’t ever go an inch beyond what they have to do. That’s bad enough for a regular employee, but if you hold an MBA, you are promising your employer that you are a master at your profession; that’s kind of why the first word in MBA is ‘Master’. You get the bigger salary and more important position, because as an MBA holder you are brought on board to create or add value to the company, which is to make it more profitable, stable, or create growth. In even more blunt terms, don’t plan on making a lot of money unless you can guarantee you will bring in a lot more than that to your company. So, going back to when you apply for a position, having the MBA may get the interview, but your ability to assure the company that you represent more money for them will determine whether you make the second round of interviews and are seriously considered for an important role. The MBA is a tool, and you must never forget that it is achieved primarily to make you more effective, not just get you a bigger paycheck.

I have also noticed a lot of discussion about what school to go to, and what concentration you should choose. That really comes down to three types of schools, and three types of focus. There are certain schools that are impressive, either in general or for the concentration chosen, there are generally acceptable schools … and frankly, there are schools which will probably hurt you in comparison with your competition. I want to be careful here, because I do not mean that schools like the University of Phoenix or DeVry are not good, solid institutions of education, but to be very blunt they are commonly seen as inferior to established brick & mortar schools. This does not mean you should not consider for-profit schools for an MBA, but you should be careful to consider what your career needs to attract the employer of your choice. If you are already working at a good company and the MBA is to make you eligible for a key promotion, then the choice of school is much less significant, but if you don’t have an established performance record to brag about, or you are shooting for a big jump in position, you need to consider how your school name will be seen by the person deciding whether to give you a shot. As to concentration, a lot of candidates decide to pursue a general business MBA, rather than focus on one concentration, while people looking to excel in a particular part of a company often decide they need to key in on their target area. For example, in my case I want to work in Finance and Accounting, so my concentration was in Accounting. I did that because of the coursework I wanted to use to sharpen my strengths in accounting work, and to improve my resume in applying for positions in that department. It worked for me, as I was soon hired to be a credit manager, in charge of AR work and revenue recognition. I could have had more opportunities, perhaps, with a general business MBA, but less chance at the specific position I wanted. Also, the accounting concentration matches my experience and skill set of the past decade and more. Also, at my age a sudden change would not be desirable.

I mention age because that is another important factor in choosing your school and focus. By the time I decided to go back to school, I had more than two decades of work experience. So I not only did not need some chrome-plated Big Name University, even if I went to a Harvard or a Wharton Business School, it would not have much impact on my opportunity. If you’re in your low twenties and just got your bachelor’s the school you choose for your MBA is a huge factor in getting attention and an interview. Similarly, if you’re just starting out a general business degree might make a lot more sense than specializing in one area.

That’s the thing. You should prepare yourself in terms of goals and commitment before you pursue an MBA, and you should know what factors will make the MBA most valuable to you before you choose your school and concentration. That’s what these rankings are meant to do.

(Next: Defining the criteria, and the weighting)

The Continued Chronicles of Amber 5: Putting Pieces Together

So here we are. The books are written and published, the short stories are completed and Zelazny has left the building. Some time back, I wrestled a bit with the question about whether Roger wanted someone to finish the Amber Chronicles. There’s evidence both ways, but in the end Amber is Zelazny’s world, and no one else could really do it justice. That said, it seems pretty clear that Roger wanted us to know what was going on, and the short stories were a way for Roger to draw a map to unravel the biggest mysteries of the saga. That’s what I’d like to try in these last posts; to pull out the gems hidden in the short stories, and use them to lay out a trail to present the mysteries’ solutions.

The first thing I’d like to point out about Roger’s short stories, is that he wrote them in a short time frame. The five short stories were all completed sometime between 1994 and 1995, and published between 1994 and 1996. As Roger fought his final fight with Cancer, he wanted to make sure he said what he wanted to say. It’s telling that the last story written and published, “Hall of Mirrors”, was introducing still new players to the plot; Roger was telling us that while a book or cycle will reach an end, Amber – with all its twists and surprises – will always continue. He wanted us to think about the family, and he left clues about what was going to happen, even if he could not write out the whole thing in a new cycle.

I presented some observations and guesses in earlier posts. I present them again, and add to them:

The first cycle focused on Amber. The second cycle focused on Chaos. The third, then, will focus on Shadow.

The first book of each cycle featured the imprisonment of the main character. So will the third.

The final book of each cycle saw the death of a King, and a new King. So will the third.

Corwin was betrayed by a love. So was Merlin. This will happen in the third cycle as well.

Corwin depended on his magic word, Grayswandir. Merlin depended on his shadow computer construct, Ghostwheel. The protagonist of the third cycle will depend on a similar artifact specially suited to his person.

In each of the first to cycles, the hero grew through the books from a self-centered person to a duty-focused person. So too, in the third cycle.

All through the books, we saw that people were not as they seemed. Carl Corey discovered he was really Prince Corwin, his buddy Ganelon turned out to be his father Oberon, Dara was Corwin’s lover and the mother of his son Merlin, but she never loved him and wanted Amber destroyed, Merlin’s best friend Luke tuned out to have attempted his murder several times, his girlfriend Julia became his nemesis Mask, and his brother Jurt, who spent his whole life trying to kill Merlin, in the end became his ally and helped him free Corwin Dara and defied the Pattern and the Logrus both. So moving into the last series, we should expect to not only see new characters added, but also see some surprises from the cast in place. Especially from Mandor, Fiona, and – wait for it – Bill Roth.
There is a good reason why both Order and Chaos wanted Merlin for their side. A good reason why Mandor and Dara wanted to protect and support Merlin, and it’s not just genetics.

There is a reason folks don’t just chase down and collect the Spikards. Remember that there is a price for using them, just as there is for the Jewel of Judgment.

What are Delwin and Sand up to? Remember Bleys is working with them, and Bleys has always been a schemer. And by the way, we know from “The Salesman’s Tale” that Delwin was charged with ‘stewardship’ of the Spikards. Yet we know that of the nine, two are the swords Werewindle and Grayswandir, Merlin has two more, Bleys has one, and I strongly suspect Mandor has one (you don’t hand out something that had great potential as a weapon, unless you have something equally potent for your own protection). So at best, Delwin is able to look after the remaining three rings. Losing two out of every three of something does not strike me as great stewardship. I have a suspicion Delwin has not told Vialle much about the Spikards’ whereabouts.

From Luke’s ability to summon Werewindle through a trump he drew, we know the Spikards can be manipulated. We also know from the Spikard’s shifting on Merlin’s finger that it has a will of its own.

Vialle can foretell the future through her sculptures.

Corwin returned to Chaos almost immediately after the end of ‘Prince of Chaos’, or perhaps he was not able to go straight through to Amber through Merlin’s ring after all. What happened?

After escaping from the Pattern, Luke makes his way almost immediately to Vialle. Vialle continues to favor Luke (remember she gave him her ring as a sign of protection, which irritated Random and he – don’t forget – does not like or trust Luke). There is a connection between Luke and Vialle which indicates a subplot.

The name of Brand is important. In the second series, we see that his name is important to Jasra, Dara, and Jurt, and in the short stories the name is important to Delwin (but who is repelled by mention of Jasra).

A race called the Shroudlings, apparently a mix of moralists, assassins, and ghouls, live in a dimension beyond the mirrors accessible only under certain unusual circumstances which they largely control.

An evil sorcerer has found a way to enter the dimension of the Shroudlings, though he is largely unaware of them he sends monsters after them. He also means to kill off rivals in his way to becoming King of Chaos. Rhanda says that "even Mandor considers him a worthy antagonist".

Merlin’s friends include a sentient computer, killing cord, being from an exterior spatial dimension, several demons, and a ‘living equation’.

Apparently bored with horses, Corwin has a steed chosen for him by Merlin which is sentient, can change shapes, and turns to stone at night.

Dworkin and Suhuy are engaged in a multi-dimensional board game, similar to Chess, but which pieces include people and significant artifacts of the Amber universe … including the Unicorn and Serpent themselves. This is so important a point, that I have to stop here and bring up similar hints from other parts of the stories. We read in “Hall of Mirrors”, for example, Flora’s belief that the Amber Castle is actively acting in the conflict, to such a degree that it uses the Hall of Mirrors to force a confrontation between Corwin and Luke, and Luke’s guess in the same story that Shadows are being reflected in Amber, rather than the usual other way around. This brings us to a theme that we should stop and consider …

Losing control. In the Amberverse, everything was Chaos, until Dworkin Barimen rebelled, ripped an eye out of the Serpent of Chaos, and started a family with the Unicorn he encountered while fleeing. I’d call the creation of the Pattern with the Jewel of Judgment to be a case of Chaos losing control. Of course, the pattern and worlds created by Dworkin changed when Brand rebelled, and tried to kill Random’s son Martin on the Prime Pattern, causing Order to be damaged and Dworkin to lose a bit of his sanity. Have to say that is a case of Order losing control. By the end of the first cycle of books, Oberon, Eric, Brand, and Dierdre are dead, and Amber gets destroyed – temporarily – before Random’s forces win the Patternfall War and restore the universe (by the way, telling in that context that the commander of the winning forces is named ‘Random’) . Have to say that’s a case of the Royal Family losing control, especially King Oberon. By the end of the second cycle of books, King Swayville is dead, along with most of the line of succession to the throne, and the fragile peace created by treaty after the war is in danger of collapse. Have to say that’s an indication that Chaos has lost control, again. Never mind that things have reached the point that a half-qualified contender for the throne is able to get the advantage of an elemental force of existence, just because he has a sentient computer and more than a little luck. Now the short stories tell us that all the rules are in doubt, that just about any absolute is past-tense, to the point that the Shadows are acting on the prime forces which created them, and the servants of the Great Powers are able to leverage those same powers to their own advantage.

With that said, going back to Dworkin/Suhuy’s game, Dworkin makes a surprise move with a woman identified only as a ‘chaos figure’. Dara? Or someone else?

Merlin is a klepto. When he visits Brand’s quarters at the end of ‘Knight of Shadow’, he pilfers the ring he finds there without once considering that as it was in Brand’s room, it might be considered part of Brand’s ‘estate’ and therefore be the property of Jasra (OK, no one really feels she’s owed any consideration) or his son, Luke. Merlin also considers swiping the sword Werewindle, and decides to give it to Luke only after he is unable to find something else he could give Luke in its place as a ‘present’. What does it say, really, that Merlin’s idea of getting a gift for a friend is pilfering through his friend’s family property?

Werewindle and Grayswandir are not merely swords, but are Spikards, tools of tremendous power and also seem to have some degree of free will. By the way, from ‘Prince of Chaos’ we get a strong hint that not only was the original pattern drawn with Grayswandir (as was Corwin’s pattern), but parts of the pattern are copied from the sword’s design.
The mystery nemesis/sorcerer in the short stories is short, apparently male, and probably not human. In “Coming to a Cord”, this guy says that meeting Flora the normal way might have caused “horrible complications”. When Flora thinks that means he’s married, the man replies “worse than that”, but does not elaborate. He knows a bit of magic, but seems limited, in that he can’t defend himself from a monster like the one he sent off earlier, for example. Rhanda says that this guy is very good at scheming, and Mandor considers him a ‘worthy antagonist’, but he actually fears Mandor, which is one reason he’s hiding out in the behind-the-mirror dimension . Conquest through cowardice, perhaps?

The sword Werewindle, it turns out, started out as the Spikard Rawg. Does this imply personality?

When Corwin is explaining the Spikards to Luke, he says the following:
“Back in the early days of creation, the gods had a series of rings their champions used in the stabilization of Shadow."

Excuse me? I thought with Oberon being king of the One True World and all, and Dworkin having drawn the Pattern that literally defines the universe, just who would be these ‘gods’ in the ‘early days of creation’? And what happened to them, exactly? And how does all this play out in the story?

It also turns out that the Spikards are different from each other. Corwin implies that it has to do with power sources, but it may well have to do with personalities as well … and maybe choice of users?

In “Hall of Mirrors”, Oberon warns Corwin and Luke about the “oddball power of someone like Jurt.” So what is Jurt up to, anyway? He very abruptly switched from hating Merlin to being afraid of him in ‘Prince of Chaos’, but I suspect a bit of that was Mandor’s doing, as well as the Logrus, which had decided on Merlin. Once Merlin shoved back against the Logrus, we know that new contenders for the throne showed up, and in that indication we should figure on Jurt getting ideas himself about the crown.

Also, we know from “The Shroudling and the Guisel” that Rhanda warned Merlin about Julia pitting Jurt against Merlin. Jurt, from everything we have seen, has been and will be easy for her to manipulate, and it’s close to a sure thing that Julia would be big on trying to get Merlin killed. We’re talking a woman who was so obsessed with Merlin that to get to him she learned a variety of mental and spiritual disciplines, discovered learned and mastered a dimension she only suspected existed, overpowered her master and became a formidable force in her own right. Let’s not forget that she was stabbed by Merlin, and spent her recovery in close proximity with a man whose primary fantasy was murdering Merlin. So, we’re supposed to believe that the very next time she sees Merlin, all is forgiven and she’s ready to be friends with benefits? Not very likely, is it? Considering that by the end of the Merlin cycle, we have discovered that Julia fooled (in succession) Merlin, Rick Kinsky, Victor Melman, Jasra, Sharu Garrul, Merlin again, Jurt … you get the idea. Figure Julia to be a vendetta player, targeting Merlin, Jurt, and probably a few others just for practice.

Which reminds me, we should talk about Dara. When Dworkin used a Chaos figure in his game with Suhuy, it surprised Suhuy, and I immediately thought of Dara. I could be wrong, but Dara’s been playing both sides all through the stories. She first showed up in ‘The Guns of Avalon’, where she seduced Corwin in order to bear Merlin. But don’t forget, in Tir-Na N’Goth Dara was an ally of Benedict, with whose help she reigned. Also, Dara had the support of Oberon in ‘The Courts of Chaos’, indicating either how well she could sell a con or giving us reason to think she as not, in fact, the 100% Amber-Must-Be-Destroyed 9-foot-tall cheerleader and ruthless psychotic we see throughout the Merlin cycle. But if she is, hmm, a double agent, who is she really aligned with (I can’t see her as a dedicated idealist working for Peace, Love, and Unicorn Shrines in every village)? Or is it all about getting her own advantage, an idea I find the most likely?

Speaking of schemers, what about the happy couple of magic, mayhem and marauding, Fiona and Mandor? We know from ‘Prince of Chaos’ that Mandor has literally built a shrine to Fiona (talk about infatuation!), and the two pop up like a dating couple several places in the Merlin cycle. I can easily imagine a typical night for the two – get together, have an appetizer, murder a passing citizen of Shadow for laughs, prepare and enjoy an amazing dinner, explore the demonic realms near the Rim for artifacts of power, compare notes on which sibling they’d most like to torture to death if they took the throne, enjoy a truly transcendent artistic experience, make a prank call or two on the Trumps, pretending to be Oberon’s or Borel’s ghost, and so on.

And what about the Pattern and the Logrus? Neither of these near-absolute Powers seemed to be able to exercise all that much control of their domains. Merlin and Ghostwheel, in particular, have annoyed them both to the point that I would not be surprised to find out they sent emissaries to meet and negotiate a mutual agreement to attack the pattern created by Corwin, and to capture and kill Merlin and Ghostwheel.

Another thing that has to be sorted out is the role of Coral. We know from ‘Knight of Shadows’ onward, that she wears the Jewel of Judgment, surgically placed there by Dworkin. This is a big deal, folks. The Jewel of Judgment, we learned in the two cycles, was originally an eye of the Serpent of Chaos. It so happens that Order came into being after a certain Dworkin ripped the eye out of the Serpent and fled Chaos, and created the Pattern with it (although we now know he also had at least one of the Spikards with him, which now exists as the sword Grayswandir). So it’s significant that the same fellow who ripped it out of the head of the Serpent of Chaos implanted into Coral … and it’s never been in anyone else’s head in between those times! Now, is that a gesture meant to placate Chaos somewhat – Order loses the artifact, and Coral wears it the same way the Serpent did; not quite the same as giving back to the Serpent, but definitely moving the balance a bit – or is it a move to advance Shadow, with a shadow being (Coral) gaining the full use of an object powerful enough to create its own universe? Oh, and by the way, we recall from the first cycle that close proximity to the Jewel, even by an attuned individual, wears them down and eventually kills them.
Assuming Dworkin was not simply finding an especially cruel and temporary setting for the Jewel, he must have provided or shown Coral a way to endure and survive with the jewel as part of her body. In ‘Prince of Chaos’, Merlin probes the jewel and is told by a voice that he is “denied the higher initiation”, which shows that there is a level of attunement beyond even the one used by the Kings of Amber … unless Oberon knew it and never shared. Once again, specific sentience of what was originally considered insentient before is implied. Merlin thought that the voice was Coral’s, but he never addresses whether she was forbidding him the higher-order attunement ... or the Jewel itself made that decision.

Before ending this section, and moving on to completely arbitrary guesswork, I’d like to conclude with some thoughts on Bill Roth, lawyer friend of Corwin and interdimensional man of mystery. I wrote before about how this guy pops up, over and over … and over. He literally saves Corwin’s life at a time when no one else even knows where Corwin is, He’s the author of the Patternfall War treaty, and he just happens to be around at a number of key plot points. Also, consider this description of Roth in ‘Trumps of Doom’:

“He was a short, heavy-set man with a somewhat florid complexion”

Why is this important? Maybe nothing, but our mystery sorcerer also happens to be short. True, no one recognizes him who sees him, but then again, if he’s a shapeshifter, as so many Amberites and Chaosites are, changing his appearance is no big deal. Also, Roth shows up in Amber unexpectedly. He has a reason for how he got there, but it’s an odd thing … like so much else of Bill Roth. I get the sense that Roth is not our mystery sorcerer, but still. Consider this passage from ‘Trumps of Doom’:

“I had told him my father's story, as I had heard it from his own lips, outside the Courts of Chaos, because I'd gotten the impression that he had wanted Bill to know what had been going on, felt he' d owed him some sort of explanation for all the help he'd given him. And Bill actually seemed to understand and believe it. But then, he'd known Dad a lot better than I did. "I've remarked before on the resemblance you bear your father." I nodded. "It goes beyond the physical," he continued.”

Roger also gives a clear hint when he has Bill comment “Two guys as close as you got to be-with no pasts to show to each other." "I guess you're right. What does it mean?" "You're not a normal human being." "No, I' m not." "I'm not so sure Luke is either."And since we know so little, really, about Bill Roth, maybe Bill is not a ‘normal human being’.

The best place to hide, sometimes, is in plain sight.

Actually, there is one last area I’d like to address in this post; who will be the main protagonist in the third cycle. Oh yeah, I think Roger told us who would be his main guy in the third series, and he dropped that hint in the short stories. Consider; in the Corwin cycle, the first character to speak is Corwin, and Corwin – no surprise shows up more than any other character in the books of his cycle. Same for Merlin in his cycle. So we should see the same 1st-person habit and the most appearances in the short stories. So let’s see who shows up in the short stories:

“The Salesman’s Tale” – main characters Luke and Vialle
“The Shroudling and the Guisel” – main characters Merlin and Rhanda
“Blue Horse, Dancing Mountains” – main characters Corwin and Shask, appearances by Dworkin and Suhuy
“Coming to a Cord” – main characters Frakir, Flora, Luke, and the unknown sorcerer
“Hall of Mirrors” – main characters Corwin and Luke, with appearances in the hall of Mirrors by Oberon, Eric, Dierdre, Dara, and Jasra, with appearances at the end by Fiona, Mandor, and Flora.

Now, counting a main character as 20 points and a minor appearance as 5 points, here’s our tally from the short stories, least to most:

5 Points: Dara, Dierdre, Dworkin, Eric, Fiona, Jasra, Mandor, Oberon, Suhuy
20 points: Frakir, Merlin, Rhanda, Shask, the unknown sorcerer, Vialle
25 points: Flora
40 points: Corwin
60 points: Luke

Yes, Luke is the only character to show up in three of the short stories, and he is a major character in all three of them. What’s more, in the first of the five short stories to be published, “The Salesman’s Tale”, the first character to speak is Luke, and he’s narrating his story first-person, the same way Corwin and Merlin narrated their stories in the cycles where they were the main focus. Luke is the protagonist for the third cycle. Also interesting is the king-role; in the Corwin Cycle, Corwin dealt with his ambition to become King of Amber, in the Merlin Cycle, the underlying conflict turned out to revolve around Chaos’ plan to seat Merlin on the throne of Chaos. In the end, neither Corwin nor Merlin wanted to be kings, but served as champions. Telling then, that by the end of ‘Prince of Chaos’ we see Luke has become King of Kashfa, a Shadow realm and by the way he does not really want the job but is doing it out of duty – Luke has become the champion of Shadow, and oh by the way he’s also walked Corwin’s pattern and by right is the owner of both Werewindle and the Spikard that Merlin has been making so much use of. There’s a story to tell, wouldn’t you say?

Faith, Choice, and Foundations

I saw a really bad movie this week. “The Omen 2” came on TV and my wife had never seen it (nor had I), and so we watched it out of curiosity. If you don’t recall the movie, it was the middle movie in a trio of movies based on the Antichrist. The movies cited some New Testament verses – well out of context – and gave their little monster a number of accessories and abilities besides the original biblical description. Like being able to stare people to death, and familiars like a silent Rottweiler who kills enemies for him, and a raven (or a really big crow) who also disposes of inconvenient people. By the way, the ‘Omen’ movies came several years before ‘Star Wars’, so I had this mental image of a certain modern director watching Damien Thorn stare someone to death in a scene, and think to himself, ‘Niiiiiiiiice, I gotta have MY villain use that trick’. Anyway, the movie had absolutely no suspense – you could tell by the music when someone was going to die – and a plot that was absurdly thin. What struck me the most, though, is that the Antichrist legend is pretty rich and detailed (almost every belief system has a story of a final evil leader), and the Bible contains enough information to build a fascinating character. But somehow no one has ever been able to present a truly believable Antichrist.

When you think about it, though, it makes a kind of sense. People who are aligned with God don’t worry too much about some human trying to play God (most of us are guilty of that to some degree, so the Antichrist is just the most egregious offender), and most people out of alignment with God do not understand the concept or the message. Some scholars believe the biblical Antichrist was the Emperor Nero of Rome, some others have suggested people like Adolf Hitler was the Antichrist, or at least AN Antichrist. And of course, the word has been worn out to the point that almost every controversial political figure can expect to be called ‘The Antichrist’ by his or her opponents. The word has lost a lot of its significance over time. There was a time when the fear of damnation caused men and women to tremble, to weigh their lives against a higher standard and to think seriously about the major choices. While I am not one who believes that God wants us to repent of our sins just to get out of a terrible punishment, I do believe we should be aware that our choices have consequences, and to live in faith by choice rather than compulsion. Also, faith builds a foundation for a better life which seems irrational to some people, and foolish to even more, but which makes possible greater joy and happiness than anyone can have without it.

Consider Charlie Sheen. Most of us, at first thought, would gladly trade lives to be someone known for talent, good looks, grace, and more than a little good fortune. Speaking of which, that life we trade for would include a personal fortune in eight or nine figures, and a regular lifestyle which many people literally fantasize about. What’s not to like? Yet Mr. Sheen has three failed marriages, accidentally shot a girlfriend in 1990, has been arrested numerous times, including charges of domestic violence and drug-related offenses. He’s been in both hospitals and rehab, but apparently still has not changed his behavior. Sheen’s temper and legal troubles finally cost him his starring role and contract on his TV show, and for all intents and purposes his career is circling the drain. Charlie Sheen is hardly the only guy to go down that road, though. Last year at this time, we were just finding out about Tiger Woods, whose philandering astounded even the blasé media, and more to the point cost him his endorsements, derailed his ability to win tournaments, and destroyed his marriage and his relationship to his children. Let’s put it this way – if you’re married to Denise Richards or Elin Nordegren, and you still feel you need to cheat, you’re seriously messed up. But let’s not forget Lindsay Lohan, though, or Paris Hilton, proof that the ladies also are quite capable of taking a good thing and messing it up completely.

This is not to say that if you are able to have and keep your success that this means you have it all. My point is that real happiness and joy comes from something a lot deeper and substantial. Sheen, Lohan, Woods and Hilton all made the same mistake, in that they chased what they wanted for themselves, and never built their lives on something more enduring and permanent. I’m not perfect by any means, but I’m pretty sure that I have more happiness and joy in my life than any of those celebrities I mentioned. Sure, they have more fun and can have any toy or pleasure they desire, pretty much at their whim and as much as they want, but what they fail to understand is why it won’t satisfy. One analogy which comes to mind is a broken rib – you can feel a bit better by having a drink or taking a drug, but until you get the rib healed you will continue to suffer from the situation – any relief will be superficial and temporary. Life conditions are the same way – you have to recognize, accept and address the real problems in your life, or you can never be free of them.

What’s good about our common situation, is that we have choices. We make choices all the time, and every one leads to a different place from the others. One choice may well seem to be inconsequential soon after you make it, but over time and in combination with a whole sequence of choices, you begin to see what your choice leads to. This is true of education, character, and cultural choices, but even more in your moral decisions. You are what you do, and in essence, become the sum of your choices.

I am a Christian, and my Master commends me to spread the Good News, but I want to be careful about the thin line between honest testimony and unreasonable fanaticism. Just last Saturday, I was taking a nap when there was a ring at the door. A group of evangelists were inviting folks to come to their church. Fair enough, but the problem is that they started out their tour with the assumption that everyone they were going to meet need saving from hellfire. Telling them I was already a believer did no good, as they then expected me to either A)join them on their tour, or B)invite them in for a few hours of scripture study, prayer and in-home revival. Now, I believe in the Bible, and I love to pray, but it’s just plain wrong to show up at someone’s house and tell them what they have to do with their own time and residence. As I said, I was sleeping when they showed up, and while I pray often, I have a firm rule that I do not pray on command just because some other person expects me to, much less considers it a requirement of faith. Sorry, folks, I worship God, but even though I believe you are my brothers and sisters in Christ, that does not mean your opinion counts as His. I mention this little incident, because if I was put off by the Jesus Sales Team, I suspect my neighbors were no better pleased with their heavy-handed assumptions and, well, arrogance. As if to reinforce the problem, I was cut off in traffic yesterday morning by a reckless driver speeding through traffic and weaving through lanes – with a WWJD sticker on his back bumper. What would Jesus do? Drive slower and act more friendly, I think. That’s not to tear down Christians in general, though as I am a believer I have the responsibility to call out my own, first. I bring that criticism up for two reasons. First off, when I speak about laying a moral foundation for our lives to build upon, I believe that comes from God, and from what I know it seems that He speaks to all of us. No, not necessarily as a real voice you hear, though I know that He does that some times (He does that to me when I am especially poor at listening, but that’s for another time). But we all know, at some deep level, when we are over the line, when we are not saying, doing, or being the person we should. The idea that God only cares about people in one part of the world, or offers communion with one culture, or shares the truth about His will with one group, is absurd. I think C.S. Lewis was right when he suggested that all myth has some value, and we do well to consider a belief system on its own merit. That’s not to say that all beliefs are valid, or that all roads reach God. But I do believe that God knows the heart of every one of us, and you cannot make God angry by loving your neighbor or helping someone in need. That is, regardless of doctrine, a man who acts in the ways that Christ commands is His best follower. The man (generic form, not meaning male per se) who performs the commands of the Buddha is his best student, regardless of whether he knows a single teaching by rote. The reverse is also true – a man who hates his brother hates Christ, no matter how much Scripture he can recite, and a man who does not care when someone suffers, spits on the God who made us all. We make the choice over and over again, sometimes choosing well and sometimes poorly. What separates us, I think, starts with whether we care about our mistakes and the people we hurt, or if we just want to take care of ourselves. If we are sorry for our wrongs and mean to improve, even though we will screw up we are the family of God, and walking the right way because of the foundation of choosing to care and help. If not, we neglect that foundation, and even a thousand good deeds, if done only to please ourselves, will come to nothing and end is failure.

Hope is always true, but we have to choose it and build upon it. Faith is stronger than rebar, but harder to work with for most of us. But we have to start with Charity, because that is the direction of our heart and the theme for all our decisions. Care, then act on it.

/podium