Personality Profile Examples

Personality Profile Examples

Sprinting toward the surf, Shonna Cobb flings a fiberglass board onto the wet sand. With a springy assurance, she leaps atop the narrow 4-foot-long board and glides into an approaching wave.

In the seconds that follow, she will have to calculate the wave's advance and the body movements required to sustain enough speed and balance to skim over its 4-foot face and into the air.

There is no soft landing. She completes the acrobatic trick, then falls into the receding shallow water at Balboa Beach, absorbing the impact with a tuck-and-roll motion.

"There's a reason why there aren't many women skimboarders," she says with a laugh. "It hurts!"

Cobb, 26, of Long Beach, is a full-time veterinary dental assistant and former dancer. She also is among the most accomplished amateur female skimboarders in the world -- and has the scrapes and scars on her shins and feet to prove it.

This year, Cobb and at least half a dozen other women skimmers go pro.

The rough-and-tumble sport was born in Laguna Beach more than half a century ago. Yet skimboarding is still considered the poor cousin of surfing, which provides longer rides on enormous swells. Skimming also commands a far smaller market.

"There's a ton of women surfers in the world today, but not many women -- or men -- who skimboard," said Butch McIntosh, editor and publisher of 10-year-old Skim magazine. "I believe that is because it is a brutal, demanding sport that beats you down into the sand."

Typically, the board hydroplanes across shallow water and, seconds later, smacks into a wave at just the right angle to glide across its surface. The goal is to turn around and surf back to shore.

Some maneuvers catapult the rider more than 12 feet into the air. The thrills last for 10 to 15 seconds.

Cobb, who has been skimming since she was 11, calls it "my meditation."

"The moment I start running toward a wave, I feel totally alive and in a zone of meditation and endorphin releases," she said, preparing to race toward an incoming swell on a recent weekday morning. "But if you hit the wave at a wrong angle, it's tragic. You're toast. I've cracked my head open a few times."

Over the last 14 years, Cobb has won all but one of the nine amateur events she entered. "In that case, I had stepped on a rock and punctured my foot," she recalled. "So I ran into a nearby animal hospital and had them stop the bleeding and close the wound with glue. Then I went back and took second place."

Cobb is the top contender heading into the inaugural Victoria Skimboards Professional World Championship of female skimboarding, to be held June 19-20 in Laguna Beach. She leads a field of half a dozen or so contestants.

"If the waves are big and scary, I can take them," Cobb said. "I'm not afraid to fall."

Winning the first professional women's world championship requires strong legs, abs of steel and a healthy dose of fear management. It will also call for putting up with the mocking from some male skimboarders who refuse to take their female counterparts seriously.

Men have dominated skimboarding championships for nearly a quarter-century.

"Skimboarding was born in Laguna Beach, for goodness' sake," said Englund, an avid surfer, sipping red wine in the city's Surf and Sand Hotel. "Now, finally, female skimming is going professional. The town should be blowing its trumpet about that."

Cobb, who has always been fiercely competitive, agreed.

In preparation for the big event in June, she has hired a physical trainer and practices as often as possible, preferably at high tide on the sloping shorelines of Laguna Beach, Seal Beach and the Balboa Peninsula.

Cobb grew up in Laguna Canyon. As a kid, she skateboarded with neighbor boys. But she also modeled children's clothes. At 8, she landed a role in the 1992 movie "CIA: Code Name: Alexa." She portrays a young hostage rescued by a detective played by O.J. Simpson.

In Little League she was a pitcher with a 60-mph fastball, and one of the first girls chosen an all-star. In her freshman year at Laguna Beach High School, she was varsity goalie on the girls' soccer team. Now she is dedicated to two pastimes: working as a veterinary dental technician and skimming.

"In a perfect universe, I'll win the championship and tour the world, skimming against chicks who are just as good or better than me," Cobb said. "Even if I don't win, I'll be skimboarding the rest of my life."

Personality Profile Example

Sheriff Keith Gall is known as the "singing sheriff" for his a cappella performances at weddings and funerals.

But thanks to a judge, the gun-toting tenor now spends more time with a grunting, testy audience of about 6,000 bison that outnumber people in his South Dakota county.

"I'm known as everything related to buffalo now," joked Gall, 42, who was elected sheriff two decades ago. "It's all part of the job, but this is a first."

His rural Corson County is home to most of a sprawling ranch owned by a Florida real estate tycoon whose herd was ordered into the sheriff's care after more than a dozen bison were found dead. Many more were malnourished and others were hit by vehicles when they escaped in search of food.

Gall has worn several hats in his life - radio station disc jockey, band singer, wedding crooner - and he grew up on a cattle ranch, but he never expected law enforcement would put him back in a pair of manure-covered boots.

Yet now he spends up to 12 hours a day at the 35,000-acre ranch, often cruising desolate roads to check on bison roaming the windswept, snow-covered grasslands.

The rolling terrain is interrupted only by a barbed-wire fence, trails in the snow left by buffalo and hay-hauling tractors, and shin-high piles of evidence that the iconic Wild West animals - many of which were underweight and lethargic when Gall took over - are eating well.

"They're getting some bellies on them now," Gall said as he eyed several hundred of the herd from his patrol car on a recent morning. "The animals are looking better and are more active, moving around more than they were before."

The county has spent more than $50,000 providing feed and plowing roads at the ranch, which straddles the North Dakota-South Dakota border.

Authorities are billing its owner, Maurice Wilder - who has a history of legal and neighbor problems in both states - though no charges have been filed since a judge impounded the animals Feb. 1. Wilder didn't return several messages from the Associated Press. The Associated Press wasn't permitted on his ranch.

"It's not the best of deals for our tax dollars," said Jerry Peterson, who owns the Prairie Dog Cafe in McLaughlin, a town where the bulk of the herd has migrated about 10 miles south of the North Dakota border.

Peterson said locals worry that property taxes could increase if the county is stuck paying for the bison's care. They're also tired of dealing with Wilder, who has owned the ranch for about 17 years.

He has been investigated for animal abuse and neglect, and residents have complained about his bison running loose, trampling fences and feasting on neighbors' hay. Charges of animal neglect and livestock at large were dropped in North Dakota two years ago after Wilder's company paid eight nearby ranchers more than $60,000 for damage.

"This isn't new news here," Peterson said during a lull before the lunchtime crowd. "We don't need the bad publicity of a clown like that doing this."

South Dakota state veterinarian Dustin Odekoven said the animals are "all getting adequate care at this time" and are being closely monitored.

Nichols' Personality Profile (June 7, 1981)

By Ralph Nichols

Don Memro is used to sticking his hands into warm, dark, smelly places.
As a chimney sweep, he should be.
Memro doesn't just clean chimneys, however, but leaves his customers with a touch of old England,  where chimney sweeping got its start.
Donned in coal black top hat and tails, Memro cleans chimneys in traditional garb while, as the poem that he often leaves behind says, “helping to make people's days.”
“It's rather nice to know that someone gets pleasure from seeing you on a roof dressed like this,” Memro said. “One thing I like about chimney sweeping is the people I meet and it beats sitting behind a desk, which I'm not fond of.”
Memro has swept, brushed, dusted and vacuumed chimneys for three-and-a-half years. When he and his wife, Liz, decided to buy a chimney sweeping business, they decided to try it for five years. So far, it has worked out.
“It's a lot harder and dirtier work than most people think. I think the major reason most people give up on it is that the money doesn't come too quick at first. They get discouraged too easily.”
The idea for Memro's business came from an article in “Mother Earth News.” After investing $2,000 in a truck and equipment and doing a lot of research, Memro started the business.
“Liz and I wanted to own our own business and there was nothing else that we could afford. About a year-and-a-half earlier we both became born again Christians. We felt that God was leading us in this direction and we didn't argue.
“I read everything I could on chimney sweeping. I called up about 20 friends who had fireplaces and asked if they would let me come over and clean them.
Memro's faith in God prompted the name for the business, “God's Country Chimney Sweeps.”
One reason Memro has been able to make a go of his business is that it isn't his primary source of income. It's a second job. The second reason is that he is one of only a couple steady sweeps in the area.
Memro delivers bread five days a week and cleans chimneys on his days off. During fall, the sweep's peak season, Memro could work on chimneys every day and is usually booked a week or two in advance.
There isn't enough work year-round in the Carson City area for Memro to depend on chimney sweeping for a living.
“It's a good second job,” he said.
For now, Memro is satisfied with a job that makes him a standout on any roof in town.
“It's exciting,” he said. “There's a thrill in standing up on a flue, guarding against losing my balance and knowing that I'll die if I do. Every fireplace is a different challenge.”
Liz Memro also has her challenges being married to a chimney sweep.
“He comes home tired and sore and that's when I go to work,” Liz Memro said. “I know how much it means to him so I don't complain.”
Besides the danger, chimney sweeping is physically hard work.
Memro's worst accident was falling off a ladder onto a white picket fence. After resting for a half hour he was back to work.
Aside from being willing to work in bad weather, there are only a few other job requirements Memro would recommend to anyone wanting to be a chimney sweep.
“He must possess a good sense of balance and not be afraid of heights,” Memro said. “Pride in the job is important for the simple reason that if a sweep doesn't do a good job he won't work for very long.”
And there are also advantages in owning a black top hat and tails.
“My outfit was borrowed once to costume Abe Lincoln for some school thing.”

AP style test

Choose the correct answer for each of the following capitalization questions

1. a. The all-stars included Outfielder Brian Jordan of the St. Louis Cardinals.
b. The all-stars included outfielder Brian Jordan of the St.Louis Cardinals.

2. a. The latin population is the fastest-growing in the region.
b. The Latin population is the fastest-growing in the region.

3. a. The fm band is now the most popular on radio.
b. The FM band is now the most popular on radio.

4. a. She bought a jeep so she would have no trouble in the desert.
b. She bought a Jeep so she would have no trouble in the desert.

5. a. ''I'd walk a mile for a camel,'' the cigarette commercial actor said.
b. ''I'd walk a mile for a Camel,'' the cigarette commercial actor said.

Choose the correct sentence based on correct abbreviations

6. a. Memphis, Tenn., and Kansas City, Kan., are a day's drive apart.
b. Memphis, Tenn, and Kansas City, Kansas are a day's drive apart.

 

7.a. He was going 25 m.p.h. in a 15 m.p.h. zone.

b. He was going 25 mph in a 15 mph zone.

 

8. a. The deadline is March 19, but may be extended to Apr. 1.

b. The deadline is March 19, but may be extended to April 1.

 

Choose the correct sentence based on its punctuation

 

9.a. It is the best thing to do, and I think it will work.

b. It is the best thing to do and I think it will work.

 

10. a. The best movies were made in the 1960's, he said.

b. The best movies were made in the 1960s, he said.

 

11. a. He threw a 90-yard touchdown.

b. He threw a 90 yard touchdown.

 

12. a. The heavily-damaged car was towed away.

b. The heavily damaged car was towed away.

 

13. a. All the boys attended (except John).

b. All the boys attended except John.

 

Choose the correct sentence based on the use of numerals

 

14. a. He is the Number One quarterback in Tennessee this year.

b. He is the No. 1 quarterback in Tennessee this year.

 

15. a. There were six people in the party of fourteen who had been there before.

b. There were six people in the party of 14 who had been there before.

 

16. a. I'd walk a thousand miles for a drink of water right now.

b. I'd walk a 1,000 miles for a drink of water right now.

 

17. a. The Yankees won the game 10 to three.

b. The Yankess won the game 10-3.

 

18. a. He had five dollars in his pocket and $6 in his hand.

b. He had $5 in his pocket and $6 in his hand.

 

19. a. He said he would be there at six p.m. but he did not arrive until 8.

b. He said he would be there at 6 p.m. but he did not arrive until 8.

 

20. a. He bought four apples, six lemons and thirteen pears.

b. He bought four apples, six lemons and 13 pears. 

Review example

By KATHLEEN ROSELL

Published: March 07, 2011

Mars Needs Moms, a PG-rated film, is not nearly as bad as one might expect. The title of the new 3-D computer-animated movie, released by Walt Disney Pictures, gives anyone over the age of 9 a sense the movie that just started may not have been the best choice.

The film, directed by Simon Wells (Prince of Egypt), returns to animation once again to adapt the book by Berkeley Breathed.

The plot of the movie is given away in the title. Being a children’s movie, there is no deep meaning hidden beneath the surface. Basically, Mars needs moms.

The beginning of the movie sees “The Supervisor,” voiced by Mindy Sterling (Austin Powers), spying on a suburban neighborhood somewhere in the United States. Her goal is to find a mother that keeps her children in line.

 She spots Milo’s mom, voiced by Joan Cusack (Toy Story 3), and decides she is a perfect candidate to be abducted and brought up to Mars to be used as an example of how to keep children in line.

The audience gets a sense of the typical suburban home. Milo, voiced by newcomer Seth Dusky, is about to hit his teenage years, and he and his mom go head-to-head about everything.

Pretty much every parent could relate to the constant arguments about cleaning and eating your vegetables.

After a particularly bad fight, Milo is sent to bed. Later he feels bad about what he had said and goes to apologize. He enters the room just in time to witness his mother being taken aboard the Martian spaceship. Milo accidentally sneaks onto the spaceship, and that is when the adventure begins.

Milo gets rescued by Gribble, voiced by Dan Fogler (Balls of Fury), who has been on Mars since his own mom was kidnapped during the 1980s. Milo finds out the Martians are all women and they are horrible mothers.

They assign a nanny robot to each new hatchling, that for some strange reason comes out of the ground (good way to get around children asking where babies come from). The Nanny robots need to be programed with disciplinary ideas. That is why Milo’s mom is there. Her memories will be extracted in order to have them used to program the robots.

Milo has only a short time to save his mom. With Gribble helping to guide him (with many good ‘80s catch phrases), Milo comes into contact with all sorts of characters.

The male Martians, it turns out, are sent down the garbage shoot because they are thought of as unnecessary (talk about hidden sexism). Yet we find the females are not bad, they are just controlled by the Supervisor. Ki, voiced by television actress Elisabeth Harnois, is a Martian street artist who decides Milo is right and aids Milo and Gribble in their quest to save Milo’s mom and return them to Earth.

The subtle messages are a little askew with this film. For a child, this is not a bad movie, nor is it one of those films that wastes the life of an adult. There are several film references thrown into the equation that only a grown-up would catch. Films such as Close Encounters and Star Wars are referenced along with many 1980s terms and expressions.

Overall the film is not that bad, it is just not a top pick for anyone over the age of 9. Motion capture technology was used to make the story as life-like as possible, which makes the effects subtle and well done.

The script is well written and keeps the audience interested in the movie, and even a grown-up finds many occasion to laugh.

Sagging lead

Greg McCowan and Don Martin have pretty much had it up to here -- make that ''down to there'' -- when it comes to young men wearing their britches around their kneecaps and putting their underwear on public display.

Features to read

It's high time to pull those pants up, said McCowan, 61, and Martin, 38. And they're teaming up to spread the gospel against the fashion practice called "sagging."

McCowan, who grew up in Fresno and now lives in Oakland, and Martin, who runs a T-shirt and poster-printing shop in Fresno's Tower District, are embarking on a grass-roots campaign to encourage youths to hitch their pants back up where they belong.

Martin and McCowan are producing sweatshirts, T-shirts and posters with a message that encourages self-pride and offers a tongue-in-cheek rebuke: "Respect yourself, check yourself. Pull 'em up."

The design depicts a young man reaching down to yank his jeans up over his boxers.

"We're starting local because Fresno is our home," said Martin, owner of Insight Design and Print. "This is a movement to take our city and our country back to values of respect."

Sagging originated in prisons, where inmates were denied belts because they could be used for committing suicide by hanging.

But over the past decade or so, it's been popularized by musicians and rappers and mimicked by young men of all ethnic groups. "It's not just a black thing; it's everyone," said McCowan, a retired construction worker who now dabbles in graphic design.

McCowan said he has been bugged about sagging for years. But he was prompted to do something about it when he saw his sons and nephews letting their waistbands sag.

"Man, pull your pants up," he said. "Nobody wants to see your crack."

Martin and McCowan also are printing signs and posters with the "pull 'em up" message, as well as other signs proclaiming a "No Sag Zone" that they hope to encourage schools, churches and other public places to post.

"And in fairness, we're printing up shirts for the kids that say, 'I'll pull 'em up for a job,' " Martin said.

Finding a job already is difficult for many young people, McCowan said. It's even harder when the saggy-jeans look is a turn-off for most employers.

"They see these big stars wearing their pants low, so they do it to be part of the 'in' crowd," McCowan said. "But they're cheating themselves out of a chance, and they're doing it just for style."

Mentors in Fresno's African-American community say the message is sorely overdue.

"When I first saw the shirts, I was in awe," said Gerald Perry, a high school basketball coach who also runs a youth basketball academy. "The shirt speaks volumes."

And it does so in a non-threatening way, Perry added. "If you tell kids to do something, they take it as being disrespectful to them."

Martin and Perry said they've seen teens self-consciously reach down and casually raise their pants after seeing an adult wearing a "Pull 'em Up" shirt.

"No one is pointing a finger at them and telling them to pull their pants up; they just do it," Martin said. "If you see something enough and read it enough, you have to think about it."

Paul Copeland, executive director of Helping Our Own Destiny, or HOOD, a West Fresno youth outreach, agreed.

"We've been dealing with this situation for a long time," he said. "This shirt makes the same point, but it's more impactful" than just telling someone to pull up his pants.

Martin and McCowan say they're working with organizations like Copeland's and Perry's, and social media like Twitter, My-Space and Facebook, to reach a broader audience.

They're not necessarily aiming to duplicate the flash-in-the-pan success of "General" Larry Platt, whose 2010 appearance in auditions for the TV show "American Idol" became a viral video sensation with his song "Pants on the Ground," which lampooned the saggy-pants "gangsta" look:

"Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, lookin' like a fool wit' your pants on the ground."

"We want to get across the same message," Martin said. "But we don't want to just get laughs with it. That's the difference."

Blacksmith Feature

At the Woodland Oaks Ranch in San Dimas, the welcoming committee is out. Hens and roosters, clucking and crowing in the morning light, are the first ambassadors, followed by Milo the Lab, Julia the Corgi and Sparkle the goat.

Digger, a chestnut gelding, sticks his head out of a barn and watches as John Gorton steps out of a white Ford F-150 pickup and lifts the side panels and rear door of the shell, revealing racks of horse shoes and a clutter of tools. He pulls on chaps, hefts an anvil onto a knee-high table and fills a bucket with water.

"Hi, Digger, how you doing?" He stands in the doorway of the barn, halter in hand. "Let's go get some new shoes on you."

He has a calm voice and a quick but easy manner. Little about him is startling. Gorton can sneak around horses better than most and has been shoeing them for 36 years.

Like pool cleaners and gardeners, he is part of the wandering workforce of Southern California, and in a region better known for its more cosmopolitan pleasures, his trade occupies a vital, if gritty, niche.

Horseshoeing may be a throw-back to the past, but so too are the rural neighborhoods and communities that Gorton visits: nooks and crannies in the region's topography, forgotten easements and municipalities where horses are still accepted.

Out here paved roads turn to dust. The rattle of the city doesn't quite disappear. It recedes, and when Gorton puts heat to metal, hammer to anvil, the digital world goes analog and when he stands beside a horse, his senses quicken to the flicker of the ears, the darkness in the eyes, a wildness that is beautiful, dangerous and life-affecting.

He keeps to a tight skein of freeways and sees about 200 clients in the San Gabriel Valley, the Puente Hills and the Inland Empire, all within 30 miles of his home in Chino. He built his business through word of mouth, making the rounds of stables at 17 and sloughing off the question, "Where's your dad?"

He's 53 now, and clients like Tonia Looker, who owns Digger and 11 other horses at Woodland Oaks, wouldn't trust her animals to anyone else.

Not all of his customers are pricey champions in the jumping circuit like Digger, who is valued in the low six figures. Just the day before, Gorton spent the morning at the L-S Ranch in Whittier. The horses there may not offer the same return on investment but they get the same care.

To understand the farrier's trade, you need to realize that the horse's hoof is a shock absorber that evolved almost 50 million years ago. Its development allowed the species to grow big and to run fast. Domesticity, however, has not been easy on the hoof. In confined settings, it doesn't wear naturally and needs to be trimmed or shod every six to seven weeks.

One horse takes about an hour, and on a busy day Gorton can get to six. If he has to do eight, he wakes up the next day back aching, hips and knees sore.

The trade has a sharp attrition rate; most farriers quit after five years. The work is physically challenging, hours spent stooped over, horses' legs pinned between knees. They have to negotiate the whims of horse owners, know how to use their hands and run a business that in a good year can bring in close to $100,000.

Gorton often partners with other farriers. He likes the company and the advice. Shoeing a horse is more than hammering a bar of iron onto a hoof. It requires understanding the complex relationship between the hoof and the leg, and Gorton doesn't pretend to know everything.

That morning at L-S, Clem Crum joins him. Tucked between the 605 Freeway and a Metrolink rail line, the L-S — that's "L Bar S," as if it were the brand for a cattle ranch — sits at the end of a road just beyond warehouses and storage yards. Scarlet trumpet vine carpets the sound wall, and the whoosh of traffic is inescapable.

Gorton and Crum head to the stalls to grab two quarter horses. They walk past a red three-story barn that houses the office and a water tank, covered with a trompe l'oeil of a countryside that would make Grandma Moses proud. Horses gambol through green pastures divided by country roads.

A little more than 50 years ago, this scene might not have been so fanciful. Before development overtook the Puente Hills, L-S and a broad swath of surrounding land was owned by one of the region's largest dairy farms, itself just a few land barons removed from California's Spanish heritage.

Gorton and Crum tie the horses by the truck. With long-handled nippers they trim the hooves' front edges. Clem pares the sole with a short curved knife, and Gorton lights the propane burner to the forge.Greg McCowan and Don Martin have pretty much had it up to here -- make that "down to there" -- when it comes to young men wearing their britches around their kneecaps and putting their underwear on public display.

Both men learned shoeing at Valley Vocational Center in the City of Industry. While other students studied auto mechanics, welding and appliance repair, Gorton applied himself to equine anatomy and the dynamics of the forge. His teachers were "half horse," and each hammer strike was a lesson from generations past.

Crum, 63, came to shoeing after working as a baker and attended classes just before the program closed in 1996. Becoming a farrier had been his dream since childhood.

The men work quickly. Burns, strains, cuts and scrapes are taken in stride; Gorton wears a back brace and prefers Naproxen to Ibuprofen. It's the skittishness of a horse, though, an animal that often weighs more than a 1,000 pounds, that makes him most wary.

When a noisy garbage truck pulls into the parking lot at L-S, the farriers step back, not certain how the animals will react.

"Working with horses is like working with elementary kids," Gorton says. "You have to be sensitive to what they want and to how they're feeling, and you have to know the difference between scared and belligerent."

Almost 10 years ago, he was standing beside one horse that suddenly kicked and threw him head-first into a rail. The accident put him in traction for six months, and he still hasn't recovered full strength in his right hand.

"You can't do this job and be a sissy," he says.

A week after putting shoes on Digger, he is in La Habra Heights, the southeastern edge of Los Angeles County, where Barbara Stracner keeps Rascal in a small barn 30 feet from the master bedroom.

She leads the gelding into the driveway. She is concerned about Rascal's left foreleg. Gorton massages and pinches the muscles and judges the reaction. He thinks it might be a sore shoulder.

Stracner, 59, grew up in this home after her father bought the property in 1959. It was a world that Gorton is familiar with. When he was 10, his newly divorced mother bought a third of an acre in Hacienda Heights where he and his sisters kept a variety of animals, including his first horse. He bought the pinto for $175 with money earned at a stable in Industry Hills where there is now a hotel and conference center.

Over the years Gorton has seen barns, paddocks, riding trails converted into tennis courts, pools and landscaping. Mansions with sweeping driveways are preferred to the ranch-style homes of the 1950s, which still front many of the equestrian properties in the Heights.

Gorton and Crum give Rascal aluminum shoes and special rubber pads that help keep his legs and hooves in alignment. Stracner writes a check for $205.

The final stop is down the street. Gorton and Crum take a private driveway past an aging split-level home to a ravine where a complex of dusty ramshackle barns lies in the shade of spreading ash trees. Across the ravine is the neighborhood church.

John Connell and his wife bought the property a year ago. They left Seal Beach for nearly two acres with chickens, bees, peacocks, quail, a cat, two dogs and seven horses, five of which belong to neighbors.

Bobbie-Socks is the first to be worked on. Crum starts trimming, and Gorton fires up the forge. He seldom bends straight bar stock anymore; it is too strenuous. Instead, he lays a glowing prefabricated shoe on the horn of the anvil and makes adjustments with his hammer. Heavy blows mix with light blows.

Twer-rink. Twer-rink. Twack.

He places the iron lightly against Bobbie-Socks' hoof. The air smells of singed hair; the burn mark confirms the fit. He cools the shoe in the bucket of water and centers it on the hoof.

One tap sets the nail, and three blows drive it flush. Bobbie-Socks doesn't flinch. The tip flares through the wall of the hoof, and with a twist of the hammer's claw, he shears the end, cinches it down and rasps it smooth.

Sound of sirens drifts from the city streets below. A hawk sails over head. On most days Gorton likes his work. There are times, though, when he gets home and thinks about other jobs, but he knows he takes for granted what he appreciates most.

Once a horse lets him into its world and he hears its breath, feels its heart up close, there is no turning back.

"You feel life," Gorton says.

The next day he returns to San Dimas. Digger will be heading off to a jumping competition the following week, and Gorton has no reason to bother the gelding. Casey and Sable instead are on the schedule, and after examining their hooves, he decides that they can go longer without a trim.

That is fine by him. The sky is threatening rain, and the welcoming committee is nowhere to be seen.

Condense these long-winded leads

1. The Rev. Thomas J. Reese, an American Jesuit who is a frequent television commentator on Roman Catholic issues, resigned Wednesday under orders from the Vatican as editor of the Catholic magazine America because he had published articles critical of church positions, several Catholic officials in the United States reported.

2. What should have been a fun and exciting weekend turned into a destruction derby for some PCC students. It is a nmorm for students to gather to celebrate the weekend. Excessive damage was caused to the campus this weekend when some parties got out of control. What was the main cause of it all?
''It's typically directly related to alcohol consumption and too much of it,'' said Nate Buseman, director of housing.
The suites were the main site of destruction over the weekend. Buseman said bannisters were splintered, emergency lights broken, a window shattered and one of the doors was damaged due to abnormal bending at the top of the door frame.