Dreading the answer you already know

A Gilroy mom is forced to come to terms with her suspicions and her fears when her son is diagnosed with Autism

(Part 1 of 2 parts)

By Kelly Sinon

It has a name, and for the life of me, I keep forgetting it. Maybe I have it too. Then again, I have only just heard the words a little over 24 hours ago.

Pervasive Developmental Disorder – NOS (Not Otherwise Specified) is an Autism Spectrum Disorder and my 12-year-old son is a newly diagnosed case. I have an Autistic son, I keep saying it to myself.

Since Kirk was two and in daycare, I have gotten reports from Miss So-and-So that he misbehaved, he was being picked on, was picking on others. I used to dread coming to pick him up after work and having to see Miss So-and-So because it appeared that she enjoyed the idea of telling a two year-old, “Wait ‘til your mother gets home.” I used to secretly enjoy pissing her off by praising Kirk for his misdeeds. (He was two. Give me a break) Of course, all of that went out the window when my son would see me out of the corner of his eye, while on the tricycle or playing with blocks and come flying into my arms with a huge smile on his face, his huge brown eyes twinkling; the same little boy who would proudly introduce me to all of the other parents, holding me by the hand, as they came to pick up their children.

“This is my mom,” He would gesture with his free hand, a la Vanna White displaying a fabulous new car. As proud as he was of me, I was of him.

School age became more difficult as he wasn’t able to focus long enough to get class work done and he would disrupt the class, wanting to be social, while others were working. Evenings were spent finishing messy class work and doing homework. Each night had to have totaled four to five hours. There was little understanding from teachers, as all kids these days seem to have ADD, ADHD or some other things with D’s and H’s, and are hopped up on a myriad of drugs that would be the envy of Keith Richards.

His teachers had to have me on speed dial. I vowed that if I got one more call from a teacher who was so ill-equipped to deal with an ADD child (he was diagnosed with ADD at 7), I was going to come unhinged. The final straw was getting a call at work, which was typical, because … well, your work day is not complete until your kid’s teacher breaks in, with some moronic complaint like “your kid playing with the zipper on the leg of his pants.” I just saw white. Pure angry white. After years of dealing with this, I snapped, “You’re the supposed professional. Deal with this if it distracts you so much, but I am at work. You do your job, and let me do mine,” That was the last call I got at work. Ever.

Each year, his ADD symptoms seemed to improve as his focus increased. His grades improved and he has a solid B average. But in spite of that, new symptoms were showing themselves and I was baffled. He would spend every waking moment reading, when he wasn’t outside. Not that I minded; his vocabulary is amazing, but he would awaken at night to read and bring food up to his room that he would store “for later.” Lots of it. And yet, when you ask this kid in the light of day if he is hungry after eating a few bites of something, he replies that he is full. He hoarded everything. Little pieces of paper, old school work, broken toys, and could not seem to make a bed to save his life, if he remembered I’d told him to do it at all.

A teacher had suggested along the way that we might have him tested for Asperger’s Syndrome. I think I was in denial. We were already dealing with ADD. What else could be going on? But it kept nagging at me. I researched online and decided it was time. A doctor sent us a thick packet to fill out. A lot of the questions were scary. Does your child hurt animals? I’d read that that was an early sign of a serial killer. Luckily, Kirk adores animals, and says there is a special place for people who are mean to them. His cat is his buddy. Whew … next question. Does your child eat anything that is not food? Oh, Lord. But there were questions I had to answer in the affirmative, and after two days of making little check marks, the packet was sent back to the doctor.

A few weeks later, we were sitting in the doctor’s office answering more questions, verbally and on paper, while Kirk was in observation with another doctor. In two hours, we would have our answer. Why is Kirk the way he is? The answer, while it didn’t surprise me, made me cry. I cried out of fear for him and his quality of life.

But then I remembered. He is now who he was two hours ago, two days ago, two years ago; bright, funny and kind. And he is someone who will need a little extra understanding.

I have an Autistic son.

Kelly Sinon lives in Gilroy with her family. She can be reached at thesinons@yahoo.com

Do you think your child could have symptoms of autism? Two good places to begin looking are Austism Speaks and The Austism Society.

© Gilroy Post. All republications must be with the expressed permission of Gilroy Post. To request permission, email Gilroy Post Publisher, Dennis Taylor, at scribe.taylor@gmail.com.

 

La Mangia

This article was first published in the Morgan Hill Times on April 6, 2010.


By Dennis Taylor

On a recent Friday, Maurizio Cutrignelli watched the front tables of Fuzia, one of his three Morgan Hill restaurants. His eyes darted among customers, instantly registering whether they were smiling, whether their water glasses were filled, or whether their faces showed delight when they took a bite from one of the eclectic menu items.

Frequently he would stop talking and in Spanish flag a server or busboy to tend to one of the customers.

"I enjoy the business, but most of all I like seeing people enjoy what they do," Cutrignelli said. "If I see that people are happy, it looks like I'm doing the right thing."

As Dr. Walter Newman - a longtime customer and self-acknowledged foodie - put it, Cutrignelli is a "maestro who conducts every aspect of his restaurant and his life with great genius." Newman met Cutrignelli (pronounced Coo-tree-nelli) at Giancarlo Cucumo's Casa Mia restaurant on Main Street in Morgan Hill in 1993, when Cutrignelli was busing tables at Casa Mia. As Newman tells it, Cucumo asked the doctor, dottore in Italian, to come have dinner and teach his friend Maurizio English.

"After dinner I ordered a hot latte," Newman recalled. "Well, Maurizio disappears - he went to the market to get some milk - and when he came back, he served me a cup of warm milk. In Italian, latte simply means milk. Since that day Maurizio and his wife Sara have called me Doctor Latte."

Anecdotes about Cutrignelli abound throughout the Morgan Hill community - all speaking to the warm, earnest nature of the Italian immigrant who is now an American citizen.

Cutrignelli said he fell in love with America during his first trip here from his hometown of Bari, Italy to help his friend Cucumo at Casa Mia.

"When I first got to Morgan Hill I was wondering where all the skyscrapers were," Cutrignelli laughed. "Growing up in Italy you think all of American is like New York."

After spending a few months at Casa Mia he returned to Italy, but came back to Morgan Hill a month later. Cutrignelli didn't know whether he would be able to stay in the States. He spent the next four years living without residency papers - an undocumented immigrant. He entered the "green-card" lottery in 1997 and by pure luck his number was selected. Now with the right to apply for citizenship, Cutrignelli began the serpentine world of the federal bureaucracy. More years rolled by while he studied voraciously for his citizenship exam, and in 2006 his dream came true as he swore the oath of allegiance to the United States.

"I had fallen in love with the country right away," he said with just enough Italian accent left to make his English charming.

It wasn't the only thing he fell in love with in America. In late 1999 Cutrignelli needed a server for Maurizio's, his first formal, sit-down restaurant in Morgan Hill. In walked Sara Torres and she was hired. Two years later they were married.

"I went for a job, and I knew I was going to marry him," Sara Cutrignelli recalled. "I just knew." Today, Maurizio and Sara are the proud parents of three children: Floriana is 7; Michele is 6, and Adriana is 3.

Learning the business

As every entrepreneur knows, or will learn, having a passion for a business and running one efficiently can be two different things. When Cutrignelli opened his first business in 1994, Piccolo's on Second Street, it was a success from the beginning.

"He made incredible gelato, and eggplant sandwiches with parmesan and tomatoes," Doctor Latte said. "There was a line every day."

Part of the reason there was a long line daily was Cutrignelli made each order as it came in. It was suggested he make the sandwiches ahead of time, but Cutrignelli would have none of that. The sandwiches and ingredients had to be the freshest possible.

The small size of Piccolo's was Cutrignelli's first instinctive business success, one Newman readily identified. "In my family we have a saying, 'keep it small, keep it all,'" Newman said. It was hard to do though, as Piccolo's began receiving accolades not just in Morgan Hill, but throughout Silicon Valley.

One of Piccolo's regular customers was Debbie Arvidson, who at the time worked at a travel agency in downtown Morgan Hill. When Cutrignelli opened Maurizio's. Debbie and her husband Wayne became instant customers and soon became friends with Maurizio and Sara. But Maurizio's was busy all the time and the young restaurateur was quickly running out of space.

As it happened, Wayne Arvidson was a seasoned global marketing and business development executive with nearly two decades of senior management experience. His clients were in the technology sector and ranged from startups to Fortune 500 firms. And among his specialties were business strategy, business development and marketing. Naturally Cutrignelli asked Arvidson for advice on securing a new location and expanding.

"Maurizio has two tremendous gifts," Arvidson said from his home near Boston. "One is passion and the other is his focus on people. He's like many entrepreneurs, in that he felt those two things could carry the day, but they don't necessarily translate into a viable business strategy."

What Arvidson would learn about Cutrignelli was that he was a quick study. The two began looking at the property that was the old Jack's Steakhouse. But in order to carry it off, Cutrignelli needed to present a business plan for a Small Business Administration loan, which is where Arvidson came into the picture.

Arvidson began harnessing Cutrignelli's energy and helping him understand the fundamentals of the business. The task was to get Cutrignelli moving beyond the meal-to-meal mentality to understand what consumers' buying habits were and understand the economics of making the restaurant work.

As any business owner will tell you, it's difficult to work through the maze of local ordinances, state laws and federal guidelines.

"At that time he had only been here a few years, and it was amazing how he grasped the conceptual issues," Arvidson said. "In one month he went from a chef to being very savvy about running the business side. The process is intimidating for people who grew up here."

But the two had fun. Cutrignelli was still learning English and Arvidson was learning Italian. The two would switch back and forth between English and Italian to ensure concepts were being understood correctly. "There were piles of paperwork, and I'm still amazed at how quickly he grasped everything."

Although Debbie and Wayne Arvidson now live just outside of Boston, the friendship has endured. The Arvidsons make special trips to the West Coast just to spend time with the Cutrignellis, and when Wayne is out in the valley for one of his consulting trips, it's the Cutrignellis he stays with. Cutrignelli has that effect on people.

It's about people

Before coming to America, Cutrignelli studied at the esteemed Instituto Professionale Alberghiero in Bari, a state culinary school for chefs. While all graduates are credentialed chefs, Cutrignelli focused on what you can think of as the front office - the business and hospitality side of the business. It's a natural fit for a man who gives off such a strong sense of warmth, excitement and optimism.

"It was the first time that I had to consider that it's not always what you are making, but the cost of what you are making," he said.

In restaurants, as in any business, the first impression is one of the most important keys to success. Cutrignelli makes sure he always starts conversations with his customers, and not just the new ones.

"The thing he focuses on, the underlying thing, is the experience the customer receives," Arvidson said. "Even old customers like us are never taken for granted. We are given the same enthusiasm as a new customer would receive."

Of course it never hurts that customer relations are more than textbook training, that it is part of the restaurant owner's personality.

"Maurizio was the kindest, sweetest, most considerate young man, and always a pleasure to be around," said Gerry O'Day, with whom Cutrignelli stayed with during those early days in Morgan Hill. "Some things never change. I am very proud of him."

But creating a comfortable atmosphere for customers also must extend to the kitchen," Cutrignelli believes. When he talks about his staff, he speaks with pride. He calls his current staff the best he's ever had. And in turn, the effort he makes and the respect he shows his staff is reciprocated. Perhaps because he himself is an immigrant, and worked for a while without papers, he has a deep empathy for his staff members who are immigrants. He helped one of his employees, Daniel Garcia, secure his green card.

"He's one of the guys I admire," Cutrignelli said. "I admire him because he just works, works, works. He deserves to be here."

Garcia has been in the U.S. for about a decade now and has known Cutrignelli for about half that time. Without Cutrignelli, Garcia said, he might have been back in Mexico by now.

"He's a very good person," Garcia said. "He's helped a lot of people find work. He's just a good person - and his wife, too. I didn't have anything until I started working with him."

Keeping customers happy and coming back, and ensuring his staff is respected and enthused, are key factors in his success. But having the natural ability to juggle so many interests simultaneously, while keeping one eye always on the customer, is what in the minds of many Morgan Hill residents is the overriding reason Cutrignelli has become an icon in the community. Of course he is quick to heap accolades on those around him.

"If everyone plays the right notes, the music just flows," Cutrignelli said.

After all, isn't that what a maestro does?

Dennis Taylor is a South Bay writer. You can reach him at scribe.taylor@gmail.com.

About Dennis Taylor: http://www.blogger.com/profile/05050454030780596145

About the Gilroy Post: http://gilroypost.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-blog-about-south-county.html

Council members need to get out more

... or at least off their duffs

I've come to learn over the years of covering City Hall beats for various newspapers that council members don't get out much. They rely (too) heavily on people contacting them with gripes. If the individual behind the gripe is a campaign contributor, they are listened to. If not, the council member feigns pity.

It doesn't require more than a walk through Las Animas Park in Gilroy to understand that royalty is severely out of touch with the commoners. My favorite in-your-face-to-the-fiefdom example is the sprinkler system at the park. Like clockwork at jogging time, at dog walking time, at kids-on-the-way-to-school time, the massive sprinkler heads clang on and the trails are turned to creeks. I do think some of the water makes it to the grass.

If council members believe soaking fox terriers, short-clad runners and young tikes by creating Class III rapids out of the main trails at 7 a.m. is a good idea, then my theory is shot. They do get out; it's just that they are dumber than sun-baked granite.

Then of course there are the quality public servants they hire. In the case of Las Animas, it's actually not the parks crew. The parks crew are actually good workers, perhaps a little misguided about setting the sprinkler timers from 7 a.m. to, say, 3 a.m., but good workers. But the contractors the city hires to do all the stuff that city workers no longer have time to do since we all became stampeding buffalo about cutting taxes, are another story.

"Small men and big leaf blowers" should be the motto of Gilroy's parks contractors. The first time I encountered one of these folks was when I caught one blowing all the dirt from a hill into and onto the townhomes I live in.

"Hey, can you stop doing that? You're blowing all that dirt into the back of those homes."
"What?"
"I said ... can you turn that off?!"
(roll of the eyes then an exaggerated flip of a switch)
"Thank you. I said can you stop blowing all this dirt into the back of our homes?"
"It's what I'm told to do."
"You're told to soil our patios?"
"Don't know about that, but we are told to blow the leaves off the trails."
"But they are dirt paths; leaves are supposed to fall on dirt paths. You know, the charm of a park and all?"
"Just doing what I'm told."
"Then can you turn around and blow the leaves off the dirt in the other direction?"
"Then the dirt goes on the tennis courts."
"Which is worse than my patio?"
"Don't know about that, but I have to blow off the tennis courts too, so why would I just blow dirt on them?"

It was futile.

I wrote an email to the council. Couldn't be less interested.

Later that summer I was walking Killer and Pipi when I spied another contractor using a leaf blower. It was already over 100 degrees and not yet noon. For the rest of the peons in the county, it was a Spare the Air Day. Apparently that did not apply to really filthy pollution spewing two-stroke engines mounted on the workers' backs.

Yes, of course I sent an email to the regional air board, and when it blew me off (no pun intended) I sent an email to the California Air Resources Board. It blew me off, just from farther away.

But mon ami it got worse. One morning my wife, who is on two medications for asthma, and myself were walking in the park with Killer and Pipi and a contractor with a leaf blower was cleaning the dirt off, um, the dirt. I waved at him in the universal arm gesture of shutting down. He just looked at me. I yelled at him to shut down, just until we pass, that my wife has asthma. He yelled at us to walk around. We did, waving goodbye with another universally known gesture.

I guess once some men get their gas-fired blowers revved up, there's no stopping them.

And that never ends well.

About the Gilroy Post: http://gilroypost.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-blog-about-south-county.html

Eat, Pray, Laugh

Yuck it up

Why it matters: Big city comedy at small town prices. Drive a little and save a lot ... wait, I stole that, and in retrospect it didn't work out so well for them.

Tucked away next to a salsa dance studio in Gilroy's old downtown is a nondescript door plastered with show-bills. The door opens to a long, narrow hallway into the best entertainment venue this side of San Jose. The Gaslighter Theater reminds me of some of the great music venues I used to visit along Haight Street when I lived in San Francisco during the late 1970s and early 1980s. Nothing fancy but a whole lot of cutting edge music.

The acts are shuffled -- Saturday night piano bar with a focus on jazz, show tunes and pop. It's a sing-along Vaudevillian evening with no cover charge. Occasionally a concert with four or five acts for $12 is tossed in to mix things up. Fridays feature DJ-hosted and music-video dance nights for $7 a head. Comedy takes center stage on selected Thursdays. These acts are no slouches.
My wife and I visited on a recent Thursday to catch DNA, Sal Calanni and Don Friesen -- all for $10. Friesen http://www.donfriesen.com/newback.html headlined with his self-effacing husband shtick -- an absolute hoot.

At the bar we bought a couple of Polish. My wife added a beer to wash it down; I got a Diet Coke. We split a free bowl of pop corn. Total damage: about $10. Simple tables and chairs on the floor and along the elevated perimeter provided an intimate setting that allowed for great back-and-forth between comedian and audience. Behind us a gaggle of women were enjoying a Sex in the City night out. They were bawdy and boisterous -- the perfect comedy club patrons.

DNA was good; Calanni was better. Freisen was top shelf -- every bit as good as many of the acts I've seen at the far pricier Improv Comedy Club in San Jose.

Freisen won the prestigious San Francisco International Comedy Competition, the same competition the helped launch the careers of Robin Williams, Dana Carvey, and Ellen DeGeneres. He returned to San Francisco in 2005 to win the competition again, becoming the only comedian in the 30-year history of the San Francisco International Comedy Competition to win it twice. Freisen's style of physical comedy harks back to Red Skelton and John Belushi.

On the same block, at the Corner of Sixth and Monterey streets, is a great little tapas house called Lizarran http://www.lizarran-ca.com/. On the night we were there Lizarran offered a dinner package that included discount tickets to the comedy show. Ring them for more details.

All told we dropped less than $40 on the show, grub and drinks. That's a ratio of laughs per dollar you cannot beat in the South Bay.

"Eat, Pray, Laugh," to steal and then mutilate the title of Elizabeth Gilbert's book of a similar title, is an occasional romp through the South County's small but beloved arts community, its religious community and all the yuk-yuk stuff that happens in between. Send your ideas for EPL to dscribe@hotmail.com, and write "Gilroy Post" in the message line.

About Gilroy Post: http://gilroypost.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-blog-about-south-county.html

Charter Communications (sigh)

Why it matters: Because it happened to me. I doubt I'm alone.

“Competition is not only the basis of protection to the consumer, but is the incentive to progress.”
- Herbert Hoover

It is not news to anyone that lives here that Gilroy and Hollister residents have crappy cable service. The crappiness of our service is multi-generational. Grandkids that grew up with crappy service are having kids that must endure crappy service.

Notice I said "must." More on that in a minute.

This morning while I was on deadline for a project my Internet access went out. I called tech support, which made me speak to a machine that required three attempts to understand that I wanted tech support (if you don't invest in good software, it's only your customers that suffer.) Then a recording came on indicating that there were "intermittent outages" and that Charter's technicians were working on the problem.

Life happens. Squirrels chew through cable. My acceptance was laudable.

A couple of hours pass and still no service. "Who are their technicians? Larry, Curly and Moe?" I mumbled to myself. I called back. This time I demand a human. Oddly enough the voice recognition software understood "Give me a fucking service tech!" I felt guilty. I was a little over the top, but a) I was facing a deadline and b) it worked. A very nice tech came on the phone, and within 60 seconds her and I discovered that the problem was not intermittent outages, but in fact Charter had "suspended" my service because our payment hadn't been made.

I asked the lovely voiced tech to hold while I bolted upstairs, tripping over my Lab mix on the way, to retrieve my bill. Now this in itself was an act of stupidity, as we don't have a landline and I ran upstairs and then down again with my cell phone in my hand. Somehow I needed to talk to her while I was downstairs. No, I don't know why. Hmm, there it was, in black on a white background, "Due date 07/15/10." Today was the 14th. A familiar emotion was coming over me I like to call the "Charter Burn." I become flushed, my blood pressure spikes, and Opus, the Lab mix, instinctively retreats to the back patio.

"But it's not due until tomorrow," I plead.
"Yes, I see that. Can I transfer you to the billing department?"
"No, I think I'll mosey down to the Charter office." I like to see Charter customer service folks' eyes dilate when they realize that there is no logical answer to a customer's dilemma.

A pleasant-looking young man greeted me, and I explained I had two questions: a) (I actually do talk that way; it drives my wife crazy) I want to know why I wasn't warned my Internet service was about to be "suspended" (thank god I wasn't being expelled). And b) why was it suspended a day before it was due?

"Because we are based on a daily delinquent cycle," the lad replied.
"OK, fair enough, whatever that means, but back to the question at hand, why was my Internet suspended when the bill wasn't due until tomorrow?" I asked again.
"A portion of your bill is (40-something days late)."
"A portion?"
"Yes," the kid said. "I show that $39 (can't recall the cents) of the amount due is delinquent." (First I was suspended and now I'm a delinquent. Sigh.)
"You mean it would have been delinquent had I not paid my bill by tomorrow's due date, right?"
"No, that part is delinquent."
"Look young man (that's another thing my wife hates; says I remind her of her father), I know Charter pays you enormous amounts of money to sit out here and be the punching bag for irate customers while your manager sits back there (I point to the blast-proof wall behind him) and, I don't know, fills out employee schedules or something, but you're not answering my question."

He begins laughing. Hard. I suspect his manager was in fact filling out employee schedules.

I look into his eyes, and see his helplessness. I can see he's in over his head on how to explain to Papa Taylor that a nameless, faceless cog that's probably out on the golf course right now makes up the rules, not him. I decide he's earned triple the pathetic pay he's actually getting, as there are doubtless 20 more of me on their way in to make his day just ducky. I smile at him, give him my check, and wish him a good day, knowing full well it won't be.

I became reflective on the way home, wondering how American businesses have strayed so far afield in the area of customer service. Charter is merely a microcosm. Then it dawned on me. Because they can.

I don't have the ability to fire Charter and hire Comcast. Our elected officials, who take enormous sums of money from companies like Charter, made sure that only one company can provide service to one area. Nice. Don't you wish your business could be granted that perk? I decided to take a look. Charter donated more than $180,000 to its Political Action Committee in 2008, and more than $53,000 more during the 2010 cycle. Its PAC then distributed that cash 58 times to the election committees of a few dozen House members and U.S. Senators during the '08 cycle. Charter is an equal opportunity vote buyer. Roughly, equal numbers of Republicans took the company's money as did Democrats.

How much influence do you think you bought with your $20 donation?

About the Gilroy Post: http://gilroypost.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-blog-about-south-county.html
Take a look yourself: http://www.campaignmoney.com/political/committees/charter-communications-inc-political-action-committee.asp?cycle=08
Employee relations: http://www.tradingmarkets.com/news/stock-alert/ccmm_brief-charter-pays-18-million-to-settle-suit-978729.html
Bankruptcy: http://dealbook.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/30/charter-emerges-from-bankruptcy/

Why a blog about South County

What is The Gilroy Post?
The Gilroy Post is a blog for thoughtful, informative, and useful commentary focused on the southern Santa Clara Valley. Every post provides educated opinion supported by fact. It will always provide readers with links to data used in the commentary, as well as additional information the reader might deem useful. We will always tell you at the beginning why the post matters. It is biting and riddled with parody and banter. If it were a film, it would be rated PG-13, although some of our posts may warrant an R for language, but it is never gratuitous language.

Guest posts
Posts by readers are welcomed. In fact guest posts are desired. No member of the Post is paid. No advertising is accepted (I've seen first-hand what that does to the integrity of the commentary). We don't pay reporters pitiful wages and then hand them an agenda and tell them to get to work. Readers decide the agenda. Email a proposal synopsis to Dennis Taylor at dscribe@hotmail.com and we will be back in touch with you to chat about it.

Why South County?
Southern Santa Clara County is covered by two newspapers, the San Jose Mercury News and the Gilroy Dispatch. When someone is murdered or when a medical cannabis dispensary comes to town, South County might then warrant television coverage. With the cost-cutting measures and layoffs the Mercury News has suffered, editorial involvement with Gilroy is spotty. Rarely has there been thoughtful commentary on issues concerning Gilroy.

The Gilroy Dispatch has commentary. But the Gilroy Post offers an alternative to that commentary. Many times views expressed in the Dispatch are welcomed with Rush Limbaugh-esque shouts of "Idiot" or "You're a moron!" That will not happen here. Comments on posts will be thoughtful, dignified and respectful, regardless of the poster's political leanings, or they will not be posted. Period.

Lastly, South County is where I live. It's where my extended family lives. It's where my dogs hunt squirrels.

Rules
1. If you believe in what you say, say your name.
2. Anonymous posts will not be accepted. See Rule 1.