The contact with a psychotic patient is an emotional experience, presenting some precise features that differentiate it from the experience of contact of a more usual kind; the analyst does not meet a personality, but a hastily organized improvisation of a personality, or perhaps of a mood. It is an improvisation of fragments; if the impression is predominantly of friendliness, there will nevertheless be easily discernible fragments of hostility embedded in the conglomerate that has been assembled to do service, for the occasion, as a personality. If the impression is predominantly of depression, the mosaic of fragments will reveal incongruous bits of a smile without context other than a kind of contiguity with surrounding fragments; tears without depth, jocosity without friendliness, bits of hate—all these and many more fragmentary emotions or ideas jostle each other to present a labile façade.
But at once the question arises: is it a façade? If so, what lies behind it? Or, if it means that this improvised personality is all, or nearly all, there is, who or what is responsible for the improvisation? If it is a façade, what does it conceal, and to what end?
Changes made to network traffic patterns, server architectures, and
traffic types in the past couple of years have caused existing network
design philosophies to become outdated. Preexisting multitiered network
designs are no longer able to meet the scaling, management, or survivability
demands of the current enterprise; in the following pages we present new
network designs that utilize the capabilities of the Juniper Networks
Junos-based equipment that expressly meet these new demands.
This chapter examines the new network design guidelines that are being
implemented in the enterprise today, as well as the goals and benefits of
these designs when compared to the legacy architectures. The chapter
concludes with a series of design scenarios and
solutions at large enterprises that use Juniper equipment.
To focus on the design aspects of the network without getting bogged
down in the technical details of the services and protocols, this chapter is
tightly connected to Chapters 1
and 3. The previous chapter looked at the
Juniper Networks devices that are offered at the enterprise level, and the
next chapter delves into the details of this equipments technical
capabilities. But in this chapter we focus on the outcome of the design, not
the details of the implementation. For those details, refer to the other
chapters in this book.
The Hunt fifty divided in Monterey with some remaining and others going on to San Francisco with him. Hunt did not stay long in San Francisco but lost several more of his traveling companions. He continued to Sutter’s Fort with about twenty-five of his original Los Angeles company. He joined with the Hancock company to cross the Sierra Nevada. William and Melissa Coray stayed in Monterey because of her advanced pregnancy: “At this place [Monterey] I considered all things and concluded to stop for a season, expecting my wife to be confined any day. I rented a room and went to work with my team.... Business became very dull with me and I worried more and more about the Church, hearing nothing only that Capt. Hunt with a part of his company had gone on to meet them”(William Coray).1
Other ex-battalion men in Monterey were Elijah Elmer, Samuel Thompson, Thomas W. Treat, and Zadock Judd. The first three worked at odd jobs as carpenters and roofers on various structures and the custom house. Elmer worked for Thomas Larkin, a successful American businessman. By February they had earned $1,883. Judd opened up a tailor shop.2 William Coray used his team and wagon to freight.
My own training as a child psychotherapist, indeed, the route whereby I eventually “became one”, is inextricably related to the role that Martha Harris played in my life at the time. The tale that follows is therefore inevitably an idiosyncratic one. I first met Martha Harris in 1971. I had not yet completed my PhD on the work of the 19th century novelist George Eliot and had become deeply demoralized not only by the ardours of the scholarship itself, but also by the suicidal desperation of so many of my peers. They were among the brightest, the most interesting, most radical, and most unusual of their Cambridge generation. Yet for some the local mental hospital, Fulbourne, tended to beckon and, despite the enlightened psychiatric regime that presided there, a few did actually, shockingly, tragically, die. Others died in car crashes, or war zones as did Jimmy in Biafra, a beloved medical student and friend. But these were extreme times: privileged, political, angry, liberated, it was an age of marching, pamphleteering, acting, guitar-playing alongside the highest standards of work. These were values, qualities and activities which remain so alive in my mind today.