The good guys thread

[kuhio98]

I don't know if it's a typo on the article posted above, but she lost 217 pounds before participating in the marathon. It says 25 above.

Fantastic! Good to know. I copied it from here: http://www.people.com/article/police...an-finish-race So, that's where the 25 came from.

[kuhio98]

The Smile Sent from Heaven
A grieving mother is comforted by a photograph she never knew existed.
by Lorraine Standish

That smile. If only I could see that smile again...

The colorless walls of the hospital waiting room closed in on me as I watched the minute hand creep around the clock. Three hours down. Two more to go. Oh Lord, this is torture, I thought.

I leaned forward on the stiff couch in the corner of the room and leafed through the dog-eared, coffee-stained magazines that littered a table. Desperate for a distraction. Anything to take my mind off my husband, Myles, undergoing his third heart surgery in less than two years.

But it wasn’t just Myles. Another loved one haunted my thoughts. I flashed back to the day six years ago when our daughter Linda’s life came to a tragic, inevitable end.

I had been in a hospital just like this one. Those same suffocating beige walls closing in on me. The soulless beeping of the heart monitors in the ICU. And Linda lying there helpless, a swelling the size of a tennis ball on the back of her head. Clumps of dried blood still clinging to her scalp.

The official cause of death was head trauma, but Myles and I knew the truth. She had passed out and fallen down the stairs, drunk before breakfast.

If I closed my eyes, if I pushed my memory, I could still see Linda as a happy girl. She had a smile that could make the grumpiest person smile too, like the sun bursting through the clouds. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when that smile began to disappear.

Linda started drinking in high school, maybe to fit in, maybe out of boredom or insecurity, maybe because of me and my history. I’d never know. She dropped out of college and went to rehab. One year later, she was carrying a thermos of vodka to work, “just in case.” No recovery program—not even some time in prison—was enough to divert her from that dark, descending path she was on.

If anyone could understand where that path led, it was me. I knew those depths all too well. I’d been sober since Linda was a baby, but I’d never hid my alcoholism from her. I told her what it was like and how I’d struggled until she was born. She’d even gone to AA meetings with me.

But my salvation was not hers. The program just didn’t take. By age 40, Linda’s liver was failing, and I’d stopped keeping count of the number of blood transfusions she’d had, the number of detoxes and rehabs.

“Mama, I’m gonna get clean,” Linda promised me a year before she died. “You wait and see. I’m going to be happy again.”

I hugged her tight. “Okay, baby girl,” I whispered, wishing I could believe her, wishing I could give her the desire to stop drinking.

The call I’d long dreaded finally came. Linda was in a coma. “There’s too much alcohol in her system,” the doctor said. “We couldn’t operate even if it would help....”

My beautiful, troubled daughter. Gone forever at age 45.

I stood up from the waiting-room couch and began pacing, as if I could walk away from my memories. I twisted my hands together, wringing them. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a smaller room connected to the waiting area.

I wandered toward it and found myself in a cramped, stuffy nook with even more magazines. One stood out. It practically shone—a bright yellow cover featuring lemon pie, my favorite dessert. “Spring Is Coming,” the headline proclaimed, though sunny days were months away.

I took a closer look. An issue of Southern Living magazine from five years before. But it looked brand-new! No creases, no stains, no wear at all, apparently.

It was so strangely well preserved that I couldn’t resist flipping through, pausing now and again to peruse a recipe. I found an article about Foley, Alabama, a city close to where Linda once lived.

All at once time stopped; the waiting room walls receded. It was just me and the magazine in my hands. I stared at an unmistakable image. There, on page 32, in one of the photos from around town, was a young woman, beaming as if lit from within.

That smile. Those eyes, so full of life. Of love. Linda. She looked happy. Joyous. Free from the pain that clouded her life. I held the magazine to my chest, dazed, yet comforted.

Myles got through his surgery just fine. I contacted Southern Living. They had never gotten Linda’s name. They weren’t sure when the photo was taken, or what the circumstances were. They couldn’t explain how a mint copy would show up after six years in a hospital waiting room.

They did, however, send me a copy of the photograph. Every time I look at it, I take it as a reminder of the healing that awaits us all.

[kuhio98]

Harrison Co. principal's efforts to buy shoes for students receives national recognition

LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) -- A Harrison County elementary school principal has received national recognition for raising money to buy shoes for 200 low-income students.

Heth-Washington Elementary School has one of the highest poverty levels in the county, at 75 percent.

"We've had several students who have had holes in their shoes, the soles were peeling off, we've been using duck tape and staples and tying together shoe strings," said principal Nissa Ellett.

But then students started asking to wear the extra shoes in the nurse's office.

"When that happened, I was just devastated. I'm like, 'Oh my gosh, this is so much bigger than I realize,'" Ellett said.

That prompted Ellett to start a fundraiser to buy a pair of shoes for her 200 students. She hoped to raise $6,300. The response was greater than she could have hoped for.

"In 24 days, we raised $17,000," Ellett said.

People mailed in money from all over the country, along with nice notes. So instead of just a pair of shoes, students got boots, gloves, hats, even candy.

"My perspective on it is if we can meet their basic needs, then they can focus on learning and that what's critical," Ellett said.

Teachers are always going out of their way for their students, but Ellett is receiving national attention for her generosity. She hopes the national spotlight will send a message of the power of a small school.

"Maybe it will spark something in another school district or somewhere else that can help other kids, so to me that's why I'm excited to be able to share the message," she said.
http://www.wdrb.com/story/27826234/h...lipId=11025516

[kuhio98]

Apple Valley (Minnesota) Brothers Save Police K-9 from Drowning

Maverick is a police dog with the Red Wing Police Department. The 5-year-old German Shepard got away from his handler Wednesday after jumping over his 5-foot-5-inch fence.

“He’s curious and he’s active,” police chief Roger Pohlman said. “He likes to run around, get after things.”

He made his way to a nearby pond, where brothers Shawn and Corey Rose were trout fishing for the day.

“He came right up to us,” Shawn said. “He looked like he was kind of hungry, so we fed him a little bit of a sandwich.”

Shawn and Corey played with Maverick before the dog continued to wander the pond. When Maverick approached a hole in the ice, the ice broke off and the dog fell into the water.

“I said, ‘We’re going to have to rescue this dog if it can’t get out,’” Shawn said.

The brothers, along with a friend, ran to help Maverick.

“My buddy Mike grabbed a chisel and started to chisel the ice to see if we could get a channel to shore so he could get up,” Shawn said.

When that didn’t work, Corey reached into the icy water to grab the 90-pound-dog.

“I figured at least if I fall in, I can get him out, and I knew my brothers would get me out,” Corey said.

As Corey pulled the dog out by his collar up onto the ice, Pohlman was driving by in his squad car and saw the whole rescue.

“I thanked them, and I said, ‘K-9 Maverick thanks you, and the police department thanks you,’” Pohlman said. “I said, ‘That is a trained law enforcement K-9.’”

“I was shocked,” Corey said. “I definitely didn’t know it was a K-9 dog, so I was amazed.”

Pohlman said Maverick’s training helped him keep swimming in the cold water, but it was the quick thinking of the brothers that likely helped save his life.

“I’ll remember this day forever,” Corey said.

Maverick is back on duty with the police department.

[Karen]

Even well-trained K9 dogs can get in trouble when off duty! Thank goodness those guys were there to rescue him!

[phesina]

What a nice story! So glad that Maverick was rescued, and in such a wonderful way!

[kuhio98]

Heaven-Sent Help to Pay Their Baby’s Bills

We couldn’t afford our newborn’s nursery bill...
by Grace Booth

How could my husband, Doug, be so calm? Sitting on the edge of my bed in the maternity ward, casually flipping through the newspaper like everything would be fine. Everything during my first pregnancy in 1967 had gone fine up to that point. Doug got me to the hospital in plenty of time; six hours later, baby Liz arrived, perfectly healthy, weighing in at exactly eight pounds. I couldn’t wait to be on our way and start our new life as a family of three. Then came the hitch.

“We just need to settle your bill before you can be discharged,” one of the nurses told us.

“The bill?” Doug and I shared a look. Hadn’t we already handled that? We had accounted for every cost—the hospital fee, the doctor’s delivery fee, and all the maternity fees. We’d budgeted down to our last dime.

“Yes, for use of the nursery. It comes to $50,” the nurse said. “Just head to the front desk and they’ll handle your paperwork.”

Fifty dollars! In the 1960s, that kind of money was hard to come by for us. It would be almost $400 today. “We’ll find a way,” Doug said. He turned back to his newspaper, seemingly unconcerned.

We prepared for this day for months, I thought, frustrated. Lord, don’t you want our family to have a good start?

“Grace, look at this!” Doug pointed out a want ad in the paper. I leaned over to read it. Lost: 1964 Cadillac, Louisiana license plate 835-N62.

“So?”

“I saw this car outside the hospital,” Doug said. “I remember it because it was parked oddly, and one of the tires was flat.”

I was sure he was mistaken. Why would the stolen car be here? But Doug wouldn’t be discouraged. “I’ll be right back,” he said. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Doug darted out to the parking lot and returned minutes later. The car was still there, he said—with the license plate 835-N62. Within the hour, the owners arrived and Doug went out to meet them. He came back smiling.

“The owner was so grateful, he gave me a reward,” Doug said, handing me a check.

A check for exactly fifty dollars.