Anne Laurie sent me this tweet thread, with a note asking if it was okay to keep sending this stuff. I was crying by the end of this thread, so I replied to her email with, “sure.” LOL
When I was 4, I wrote a letter to the Entomology department at UCB. "My name is Rebecca and I have a bug collection. I read about yours and it is bigger than mine is. Can I see it? Also, I have a question. Do walking sticks have knees? Sincerely, Rebecca"
Apparently I told her that we'd exchanged letters so he didn't count as a stranger and therefore it was safe. And we went, and I had the greatest day of my young life. I remember snippets. Him laughing because I lost my mind at the foot-long walking sticks.
He let me hold a live scorpion. As my mom tells it, he commented that they made good pets until she shot him an absolute death glare over my head, at which point he clarified "but only in museums and zoos". I also met a tarantula, a hissing cockroach, and live walking sticks.
I’m now following her because in the replies, folks are working hard to find who this wonderful gentleman is…there are some promising candidates. If you have a chance, the replies in the thread are just as inspiring, many folks have had life-changing encounters at a young age that set them on their career paths.
And somewhere in a drawer at UC Berkeley there's a foot-long walking stick partially responsible for my college education. If anybody knows who this amazing tour guide may have been, let me know! Otherwise, do outreach and answer the weird questions!
Just for perspective – I can palm a basketball and here is Bixby’s paw at a year (!). She sounds like a little kid wearing her daddy’s slippers walking down the hall. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into here.
She’s 15 weeks old and I wish I could tell you that she’s anything but sweet, kind and always trying to please, but I can’t. She’s dangerous…because I KNOW that Great Dane puppies are a handful and she makes me feel like I could handle a houseful. I’m avoiding all rescue sites until sanity is restored.
I am really enjoying the Acts of Kindness you guys have been sending me. My plan is to post two in each Wednesday post. So keep them coming. I reply with a “thank you” to each one, so if you didn’t get a reply email, try again.
We seem to have enough interest to try it. I’ve two stories tonight, I have a file of several y’all have sent me. So we’re a go for a few weeks, at least. I decided in my schedule, late Wednesday works best – so you’ll have a good news story to end your day or to begin your day, depending on when you want to check it out.
Tonight we have a hero rescuing a little girl and the joyful follow-up of going home from the hospital and a local musician and his favorite audience ever, a neighborhood fox.
The situation could have been much worse if a good Samaritan hadn’t rushed to help when she saw the incident unfold before her eyes.
Dusti Talavera (credit: CBS)
“I was looking out my window, and saw the kids to fall in,” said Dusti Talavera, who lives at the Addison at Cherry Creek apartments. “Before I realized it, I was on the pond pulling the two kids out, and that’s when I fell in the pond for the third kid.”
She recalled her story at the Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Office on Monday afternoon in a press conference. Talavera told CBS4’s Mekialaya White she acted immediately, not hesitating to put on her shoes and run outside to help the kids. She attempted to rescue them in water 15-feet deep.
“I knew it was me. It had to be me,” said Talavera.
Two of the kids made it out safely and unharmed. However, once Talavera was able to bring the 6 year old up to the surface and onto the sidewalk, she wasn’t breathing. She also had no pulse and was cold to the touch with soaked clothes.
Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Deputy David Rodriguez removed her coat and immediately began chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Also assisting in life-saving CPR were Deputy Blaine Moulton and Deputy Justin Dillard. This continued until South Metro Fire Rescue arrived at took-over life-saving measures.