Kristin Pickering presents a valuable case study that focuses on how professional communicators and researchers make sense of the narratives and values between stakeholders who may be at odds with each other. This is especially important in land usage and environmental protection cases like the Grey Cliffs, where the practices of private citizens and government regulated organizations conflict. Through Pickering's well-structured case study, she shares a fascinating web of documentation practices, discourse expectations, and community narratives and how they affect the communication practices between organizations and communities.

This summer my professional life was marked by a number of exciting changes. In addition to assuming the role of editor in chief of CDQ and producing my first issue, I stepped down from a longterm role with the editorial team at Kairos: A Journal of Rhetoric, Technology, and Pedagogy. In a bittersweet note, I received (and gave) a multitude of well wishes to the amazing colleagues and collaborators I had at Colorado State University, including Sue Doe, Lisa Langstraat, Tobi Jacobi, Todd Ruecker, Sarah Cooper, Chad Hoffman, Tiffany Lipsey, Dinaida Egan, and Meg Suter, while I started a new role as Chair of the Department of Professional and Public Writing at the University of Rhode Island. It was a summer full of packing, unpacking, painting—and new processes, policies, and people. Throughout this moment, I spent a great deal of time reflecting on this change. For instance, I reflected on what CDQ means to the fields of communication and user experience design (CD/UX), technical and professional communication (TPC), and writing and rhetoric studies (WRS). Similarly, I reflected on my editorial philosophy and how I will shape and alter it now that I've been entrusted with serving as steward of CDQ. In this opening editorial, I remark on three themes that emerged while contemplating these changes: gratitude, care, and resilience.

Over the course of my friendship with Dr. Halcyon Lawrence, I would often spend weekday evenings completing a mundane chore like washing dishes or feeding the cat. I would then hear my phone's alert for an incoming text message: "I need company. Are you working tonight?" Within 30 minutes or so Halcyon and I were on Zoom, cameras off, and nothing displayed on screen but our login names. Other times I'd receive a text like "I need your advice. Do you have time?" and we convened over the phone. When we talked, answers to our mutual question "How was your day?" prompted stories, and those stories led to musings and reflections. When I became befuddled when an assignment would flop or disappointed by a flat discussion, Halcyon gently queried, "So what were you trying to do?" or "Why do you think that activity didn't go well?" Her responses always reoriented me. When venting was no longer productive, we teased apart the problem, speculating what skill or knowledge students needed but had not sufficiently developed. These conversations often gave me enthusiasm for a new pedagogical approach or revealed insights about the gaps in our teaching and our students' learning. In the months since Halcyon's passing, I miss most acutely these nightly conversations about what was happening in our classrooms. My goal in this essay is to underscore the fact that part of Halcyon's legacy as a social justice-oriented technical communication scholar is her ethos as a teacher and collaborator who cared capaciously about student learning and the development of teaching practices and assignments.

Over the course of my friendship with Dr. Halcyon Lawrence, I would often spend weekday evenings completing a mundane chore like washing dishes or feeding the cat. I would then hear my phone's alert for an incoming text message: "I need company. Are you working tonight?" Within 30 minutes or so Halcyon and I were on Zoom, cameras off, and nothing displayed on screen but our login names. Other times I'd receive a text like "I need your advice. Do you have time?" and we convened over the phone. When we talked, answers to our mutual question "How was your day?" prompted stories, and those stories led to musings and reflections. When I became befuddled when an assignment would flop or disappointed by a flat discussion, Halcyon gently queried, "So what were you trying to do?" or "Why do you think that activity didn't go well?" Her responses always reoriented me. When venting was no longer productive, we teased apart the problem, speculating what skill or knowledge students needed but had not sufficiently developed. These conversations often gave me enthusiasm for a new pedagogical approach or revealed insights about the gaps in our teaching and our students' learning. In the months since Halcyon's passing, I miss most acutely these nightly conversations about what was happening in our classrooms. My goal in this essay is to underscore the fact that part of Halcyon's legacy as a social justice-oriented technical communication scholar is her ethos as a teacher and collaborator who cared capaciously about student learning and the development of teaching practices and assignments.

Bayes's theorem allows us to use subjective thinking to find numerical values to formulate assessments of risk. It is more than a mathematical formula; it can be thought of as an iterative process that challenges us to imagine the potential for "unknown, unknowns." The heuristics involved in this process can be enhanced if they take into consideration some of the established risk assessment and communication models used today in technical communication that are concerned with the social construction of meaning and the kairos involved in rhetorical situations. Understanding the connection between Bayesian analysis and risk communication will allow us to better convey the potential for risk that is based on probabilistic assumptions.

Read and considered thoughtfully, Safiya Umoja Noble'sAlgorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racismis devastating. It reduces to rubble the notion that technology is neutral and ideology-free. Noble's crushing the neutrality myth does several things. First, this act lays foundations for her argument: only if you recognize and understand that technology is built with, and integrates, bias, can you then be open to her primary thesis: search engines advance discriminatory and often racist content. Second, it banishes a convenient response for many self-identified meritocratic Silicon Valley "winners" and their supporters. Post-reading, some individuals may retain their beliefs in a neutral and ideology-free technology in spite of the overwhelming evidence and citations Noble brings to bear. Effective countering of Noble's claims is unlikely to occur. For professionals working in technology, information, argumentation, and/or rhetorical studies,Algorithms of Oppressionis refreshing. Agonistic towards structural racism and its defenses, single-minded in its evidentiary presentation, collaborative in its acknowledgement of others' scholarship and research, Noble models many academic, critical, and social moves. Technology scholars and writers will find inAlgorithms of Oppressiona masterful mentor text on how to be an activist researcher scholar. Noble also makes this enjoyable reading. It is uncommon to find academic books that can simultaneously be read, used, and applied by academics and non-academics alike.

If you've been in the field of user experience design, usability testing, or marketing for anytime at all, you've almost certainly come across the use of personas to help members of a cross functional design team communicate with one another about the impacts that design decisions will have on a particular user demographic. As Adlin and Pruitt (2006) explain, personas are useful because they put an individual, human face on demographic and ethnographic data which would otherwise be difficult to explain to software engineers, project managers, information product developers, and other stakeholders in a way they can easily conceptualize and apply. Usually on one sheet of paper, a persona will provide a photo of the character for the persona; a memorable name for the persona; a short bio or background information about the persona; the persona's goals for using the product being developed; a short and memorable quote from the persona which usually conveys their ethos ; and other information relevant to the use of the product being designed such as training; previous experience with similar products, or physical disabilities (such as arthritis or poor eye sight---see http://www.clemson.edu/caah/caah_mockups/persona_clemsongrad.html for an example of personas developed for the redesign of a College's website).

This paper presents an application of stasis theory for the purpose of consulting with interdisciplinary teams of scientists working in the early stages of composing a science policy advisory document. By showing that stasis theory can be used as an organizing conceptual tool, we demonstrate how cooperative and organized question-asking practices calm complex interdisciplinary scientific disputations in order to propel productive science policy work. We believe that the conceptual structure of stasis theory motivates scientists to shift their viewpoints from solitary expert specialists toward that of allied policy guides for their advisory document's reader. We further argue that, through the use of stasis theory, technical writers can aid interdisciplinary scientists in policy writing processes, thus fostering transdisciplinary collaboration.