I'd like to respond to Tish Leonhardt's letter, "Nurse: White Oak cares for its patients," in the June 9 edition of The Lancaster News. I usually write my own letters, word for word, but the letter Mrs. Leonhardt is referring to was written by someone else.
When I viewed the words – sorry, I can't remember where – I thought that it was very relevant to our society today. I wasn't trying to plagiarize. I sent it in liking the thought it laid out.
The Coalition for Healthy Youth of Lancaster County is looking to take a team effort approach in combating teen alcohol consumption and early tobacco use.
The coalition is shooting to have local businesses be a positive force in the fight by doing what they can to do what's right.
The coalition, formerly known as the Lancaster County Prevention Coalition, is seeking support from local businesses to help in the battle to halt the underage use of alcohol and tobacco.
April has come and gone. Getting our income tax worries are behind us until next year. But wait, there is something else going on.
People all over America are frustrated about the lack of jobs, growth of the federal government, lack of transparency and accountability in our state and federal government.
Many of us locally who feel this way have been involved with the Lancaster TEA Party movement for just over a year. Our little town is in step with all of the other TEA Parties statewide and nationwide.
Please vote in the June 22 runoff even if your candidate was not one of the top two vote-getters. The selection of a person to be the governor of our state is a very important one. The person for that job is Gresham Barrett.
Duly elected officials, even when they are running for higher office, must go to their job and vote on legislation, especially their own. I do not want a governor who can't be responsible.
In a recent column, retired Judge Don Rushing correctly stated that it is the people in the judicial system who are the problem, and not the system itself.
However, in that same column, Judge Rushing appears to disparage the people's right to criticize a system that is clearly broken, regardless of the reason.
To emphasize my point, let's take a look at the case that dominated the news in the days immediately following the publication of Judge Rushing's column. It was a case from Utah concerning a murderer named Ronnie Lee Gardner.
Today is a red letter day for all you dads out there. It's Father's Day and, if you're lucky, you can look forward to a special meal, a hand-lettered card from a small child or grandchild and of, course, the ubiquitous necktie.
Since 1966 when President Lyndon B. Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the third Sunday of June as Father's Day, Americans have set aside that day to honor their fathers and grandfathers.
Tuesday is a critical day for South Carolina library users and supporters.
Gov. Mark Sanford has vetoed all state aid for public libraries. Library supporters must act now to urge the Legislature to overturn vetoes 31 and 92.
The General Assembly meets Tuesday to consider overriding these and 105 other vetoes.
The governor is working hard to secure the votes he needs to sustain his vetoes. We have never faced anything like this before, and the result will be devastating to library services in Lancaster County.
On June 1, while visiting my parents, we made our usual visit to Walmart. This visit turned out to be anything but usual. After loading our bags in the car, we returned to my parents' house. I then took my mom to the doctor.
As I started to get out of the car, I noticed that my purse was not in the car. I called my dad and he looked around the house with no luck. I then realized I had left it in the shopping cart at Walmart. We returned to Walmart where I looked in the closest trashcans with no luck.
Do we save it or let it go? That's the question Lancaster County officials are facing with the historic jail building on West Gay Street in downtown Lancaster.
The top of the building is sinking and an engineer has told the county the building could collapse. The building hasn't been used as a jail in years, but has housed the county's Emergency Operation Center, Lancaster County Fire Service and Emergency Management. After a structural engineer informed the county of the problem, the operation center was moved out of the building.
I want to thank Faulkner Animal Hospital and all the staff there for their care and concern for my pet poodle, Maggie. My poodle had multiple problems like blindness, along with diabetes. She was like a family member to us. The doctor and staff there treated her above and beyond what most animal facilities would have done. They ran tests and explained to me in layman's terms what they meant and what we could try next.
They watched her constantly for several days and did everything they could for her.
Recently, Dance Works Unlimited held its spring recital at the Lancaster High School auditorium. I attended the afternoon performance at which a selection was choreographed to the song sung at the graveside of Elyse Hardin.
Ashlyn, Elyse's sister, appeared radiant in white as if an angel ascending to heaven. I was moved to tears and felt the pangs of grief my cousins are feeling with the untimely death of Elyse. Elyse was killed in an automobile accident during the past Christmas holidays.
I am an 88-year-old veteran of World War II who served proudly with the 1st Marine Division in Okinawa and China.
After viewing the recent war series, "Pacific," on HBO, I am angry and embarrassed with the constant use of the "F" word while depicting Marines in battle.
I went into the front line on Okinawa on May 9, 1945 with the 1st Marine Division. Fighting could only be described as pure hell. I never heard the "F" word.
As your S.C. House representative for District 45, one of the most important issues I must tackle is the state's budget. Recently, there has been a lot of talk about out-of-control spending and government waste.
Conservative-minded citizens have rallied together to send that message strongly to their elected officials and, as a relative newcomer to the statehouse, I cannot express my thanks enough for your activism.
Bunny was picked up by Lancaster County Animal Control several weeks ago. She was found wandering along the streets of downtown Lancaster. The veterinarian estimated her to be about 11 weeks old.
She had been thrown out to fend for herself with no food or shelter from the elements. That is a cruel and heartless act enough, but Bunny had several strikes already against her.
When I read the headlines, "A call for peace, cooperation," in the June 2 edition of The Lancaster News, I was simply disgusted for the citizens of Lancaster County.
I personally served as the eyes, ears and even hands for law enforcement in Lancaster County. I cooperated fully with Lancaster County Sheriff's Office leading to the arrest of a drug dealer several months ago.
The dealer was arrested with drugs, a large sum of cash and guns.
Andrew Jackson High School recently had to drop back and punt, regarding the Volunteers' coaching vacancy.
Thrown for a loss late in the game, AJ's pressing challenge was to salvage the situation as best it could.
Given the situation, AJ officials got off a boomer to get back in the game.
In case you missed the latest saga in the AJ football situation, as the 2009-10 school term wound to a close, school officials were faced with the unexpected situation of filling the school's football coaching vacancy.
The 8 a.m. Econ 101 class that many of us skipped had some very valuable information in its lesson. It would help explain why we are headed to an economic collapse which I believe will arrive next year.
If you get your news and information from some talking head on TV, you are misinformed and uninformed.
We've lit candles. We've held press conferences. We've asked for peace and cooperation from the pulpits. Now what? We've acknowledged that there is an increasing amount of violence.
And that violence has taken the lives of several people just in the last few months. The most recent victim was 3-year-old Jaylen Jackson. Jaylen apparently got caught in the crossfire of a gunfight.
The Lancaster County Community Garden Council would like to acknowledge and thank the individuals and groups who support the Lancaster County community garden. Thank you, Ben and Susan Snipes and the Carolinas Cowboy Church for opening the 2010 season with an old-fashioned mule plow day.
Thanks to Pastor Jack Nunn and his wife, Pat, and Carolinas Cowboy Church, Lisa and Wayne Jordan and their son, Alston, Melton "Hoot" Gibson, Don Walters, Bud Limas, Frank Burgos, Jimmy Blackmon, J.L. Sandifer and Shelby Caldwell for making plow day a tremendous success.


text:
In The Coders, it's our priority to adjust skills to the client's needs.
Below you will find case studies of a few cases, which has been completed by our team.
Programming school
Our task was to create a website for a person who runs a programming school for children and adolescents.
Our cooperation's main purpose was to design and develop a minimalistic theme with monochrome colors, which allows account creation for students and download section for registered users.
The most important requirement was time. We have had only 2 working days to design and code.
As a result, our client received a WordPress based website, which is extremely fast and clear.
© 2021 thecoders.io. All rights reserved.
We use cookies for analytics and to improve our site. privacy policy

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


Bath and kitchen fixtures, tile and stone, plumbing, and more. Our product selection and services may be varied, but they all come with the same promise of quality, dedication, and durability. Our team offers generations of experience providing services for consumers and contractors alike, from small remodels to custom homes, to the largest hotels in the world!
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European Bath | Kitchen | Tile & Stone is a distributor of bath, kitchen, tile & stone products. We represent over one-hundred vendors of the best products available made to ensure your space is as beautiful as can be.
As a distributor only, we do not offer installation or repair services. However, we have built strong relationships with the best trades in town and can make referrals for your needs. Please contact us at 702.873.8600 for our top recommendations.
Our showroom offers a fine selection of products from traditional, to modern, and contemporary. We provide our clients with a variety of the most exceptional brands.
If you're working on a home improvement project or building your home from the ground up, whether it's your new bathroom, or upgrading your kitchen, we are here to ensure your vision is fully realized.
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Citing the adaptive reuse of the former CTS building as an "innovative model for campus planning, growth, sustainability, and stewardship," the American Institute of Architects Illinois chapter has granted Saieh Hall for Economics its 2016 Frank Lloyd Wright Honor Award for New Design or Renovation. This award recognizes an individual building project with the largest impact that closely adheres to AIA's Principles of Livable Communities. The organization also commended Ann Beha Architects' transformation of the building complex for its exploration of "the discourse between historic and contemporary design." The Saieh Hall award ceremony will be held in SHFE 201 in early October.


text:
Britain's 'most prolific rapist' jailed for life after drugging and assaulting 48 men
Reiss Smith January 6, 2020
Reynhard Sinaga was convicted of 159 sex offences. (CPS)
Reynhard Sinaga was described by a prosecutor as "the most prolific rapist in British legal history" and possibly "in the world" after he was convicted of 159 sex offences.
The 36-year-old PhD student was found guilty of attacking 48 men who he would lure from outside of clubs in Manchester to his flat.
He is said to have taken "a particular pleasure in preying on heterosexual men" who had been kicked out of nightclubs or who had lost their friends.
Some had no money for a taxi home or would have a dead phone battery, and would go back with Sinaga having been offered a floor to sleep on or an invitation to have a few more drinks.
He would then drug and assault them, filming the attacks.
The juries heard that Sinaga kept his victim's belongings and would boast about them to friends.
He said of one: "He was straight in 2014. 2015 is his breakthrough to the gay world hahaha."
Police said that there is evidence of Sinaga targeting at least 190 victims.
Many woke up without any memory of their ordeal, leading a judge to conjecture that Sinaga had used a date rape drug such as GHB.
Manchester rapist showed 'extreme sexual entitlement'.
Deputy chief crown prosecutor Ian Rushton said that Sinaga's "extreme sense of sexual entitlement almost defies belief and he would no doubt still be adding to his staggering tally had he not been caught".
The rapist was already serving a life sentence with a minimum term of 20 years after being convicted of offences in two earlier trials.
A judge has now increased this to a minimum of 30 years and lifted reporting restrictions, allowing him to be named for the first time.
Across four trials Sinaga, an Indonesian national from Manchester, was found guilty of 136 counts of rape, eight counts of attempted rape, 14 counts of sexual assault and one count of assault by penetration against a total of 48 victims.
Victim of rapist Reynhard Sinaga wants him to 'rot'.
One of the men said that Sinaga had "destroyed a part of my life".
Some had no idea that they had been raped until police informed them. For many, the revelation forced them to drink, with one saying that he came close to suicide.
Another, writing in a victim impact statement read out in court, said: "I hope he never comes out of prison and he rots in hell."
Sinaga reportedly showed little reaction to the testimony, at times yawning and playing with his hair.
The attacks were carried out over several years until July 2017, when one of Sinaga's victims regained consciousness during an assault and called police.
After his arrest police found hundreds of hours of footage of the attacks on Sinaga's phones and other digital devices, leading to the largest rape enquiry in UK history.
The trial focused on crimes committed between January 2015 until his arrest, however it is thought that Sinaga had been targeting men for at least 10 years.
Assistant Chief Constable Mabbs Hussain said that the true extent of his crimes will probably never be known.
"The information and evidence we are going from is largely from trophies that he's collected from the victims of his crimes," he said.
More: Manchester, rape, Reynhard Sinaga, sexual assault
Gay couple blackmailed after hookup then attacked with tear gas by four masked men
Owen Jones attacker found guilty of assault motivated by homophobia and anti-Left views
Stripper sentenced to life in prison for murdering his boyfriend with two gunshots to the head
Owen Jones attacker had collection of 'white supremacist, far-right and homophobic' memorabilia, court hears


Welcome to Story Of The Week! Names may have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent and details may have been exaggerated for the sake of a better story.
This one particular day had more than one incident that made it a bit strange. The story begins with myself, Sody Clate and Cerrick Dampbell (good luck figuring those names out) heading to do some swimming at Trevor Connell's house. The swimming part was pretty chill. We basically kicked back and did what normal high school losers do. I also had this bitchin inflatable dolphin I picked up at the local Dollar Tree. Best $1 I ever spent, but I digress. We were doing some extreme freestyle dolphin diving and random crap like that.
Anyway, it started raining and little bit but we just kept chilling the pool and whatnot for a little while before eventually bailing. We started back to Derri, er, I mean, Cerrick's house to rage on some chicken nuggets his mom was making. We pull out of Trevor's driveway and head down the road. At the end of his road is a some railroad tracks just before dropping off a pretty steep hill for a short distance to a stop sign at another road. I was driving and my approach to the railroad tracks was a little faster than normal. About that time a dog runs across the road and I slam on the brakes to try to keep us from having to eat road kill stew as apposed to the chicken nuggets we were looking forward to.
Since it had been raining, I ended up sliding on the wet concrete. It just so happens that they had literally just installed a set of the stop bars at this railroad crossing and I see us skidding off the road and straight for it. I managed to turn the wheel slightly to the left and we skid to a stop on the gravel about 3 feet away from hitting it. Something was damaged though. Cerrick had a bicycle in the back which was shot straight into the front part of the bed of my truck and broke off the brake lever, but my truck was perfectly fine so I didn't care. I just wanted to get going before anyone saw anything. So I dropped the clutch, drove straight across the railroad tracks and kept going.
So we get to Cerrick's house and his mom greets us with these ballin chicken nuggets. We rage on those for a little while then after the free food I get the urge to leave. So Cody Sl, I mean, Sody Clate and I leave and I go to take him home. We happened to have a few bottles of Gatorade that we were done with. Sody chucks one of them out the window and into the front yard of this trailer that I'm pretty sure was a meth lab. The next one was empty, so he gets the bright idea to chuck it out the window, over top of the truck and onto a passing car. Sounds funny right? Yeah it totally is. Unless you choose a total hillbilly to do it to.
Sody chucks it at this car and it completely misses, which makes it funny to me. All of a sudden this guy slams on his brakes. We look back and he's out of his car looking at the bottle laying in the middle of the road. We pin it back to Sody's house which was just a couple of turns away. We pull into his neighborhood, and onto his road thinking we got away. Did we? Heck no. All of a sudden this guy comes in full throttle and stops at the end of Sody's driveway. The dude gets out and he's this total hillbilly. Like, I'm from North Carolina and I can't even understand what this guy was saying. He's sputtering off all this profanity and yelling about how that empty plastic bottle could have broken his windshield. I think he was just a redneck that likes to fight.
Eventually 08Sla, I mean 08Clate's parents come out and kind of exchange a few words with the dude. Of course that's when he turns into a complete wuss and backs down. So we're sitting there talking about what happened. I think we told 08's parents that he didn't do it and we ran the bottle over or was trying to throw it into the bed of the truck or something. I don't remember, it was like 5 years ago. Anyway, we're talking and all of a sudden this dude comes back like full throttle down Sody's street and throws the bottle at us. Well, the moron didn't realize that there's only 1 way in and out of that neighborhood, so he has to come back by to get out. When he does, well, let's just say that the bottle did hit his car that time.
So, the moral of this story kids… If you're going to throw a bottle at a passing car, make sure it's dark or not some hillbilly guy.


text:
<?php
include_once('../model/vendeur.php');
include_once('../model/lot.php');
include_once('../model/article.php');
include_once('../model/modele.php');

class ControllerImportEcole {

	public static function lireExcel(){
		/** Include path **/
		set_include_path(get_include_path() . PATH_SEPARATOR . '../excel/Classes/');

		/** PHPExcel_IOFactory */
		include '../excel/Classes/PHPExcel/IOFactory.php';
		$nomFichier = $_POST['exampleInputFileEcole'];
		$inputFileName = '../excel/pre_inscription_ecole/'.$nomFichier;
		$objPHPExcel = PHPExcel_IOFactory::load($inputFileName);

		$nomEcole= $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell('B2');
		$telephone = $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell('B3');
		$email = $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell('B4');
		$contactEcole = $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell('B5');

		$vendeur = Vendeur::getVendeurByMail($email);
		if($vendeur!=null){
			$vendeur->updateMail($email);
			$vendeur->updateVendeur($nomEcole,$contactEcole,"",$telephone,"professionnel",-1);
			$lots = Lot::getLotByVendeur($vendeur->getId());
			Lot::deleteLotByIdVendeur($vendeur->getId());
			for($p=0; $p<=count($lots)-1; $p++){
				Article::deleteArticlesByIdLot($lots[$p]->getId());
			}
		}else{
			$vendeur = new Vendeur($nomEcole,$contactEcole,$telephone,$email,"","professionnel","",-1);
			$vendeur->save();
		}

		$ligne = 14;
		$colonne = "B";
		while ($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne)!="") {
			$prix = $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell("B".$ligne);
			if($prix%10!=0  or $prix < (int)Administration::getPrix()){
					header('location:../views/ajoutFichierNonEffectue.php');
				}
			$numeroLotVendeur = $objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell("A".$ligne);
			$numeroLotVendeur = $pieces = explode(" ", $numeroLotVendeur);
			$lot = new Lot(1,$numeroLotVendeur[1],$prix,$vendeur);
			$lot->savePreInscription();
			$lot->updateStatut("En preInscription");
			$numeroLotVendeur++;
			$colonne++;
			$colonne++;
			while($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne)!=""){
				$typeMatos = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				if(strcmp($typeMatos,"voile")==0){
					$typeMatos=0;
				}else if(strcmp($typeMatos,"sellette")==0){
					$typeMatos=1;
				}else if(strcmp($typeMatos,"accessoire")==0){
					$typeMatos=3;
				}else if(strcmp($typeMatos,"secours")==0){
					$typeMatos=2;
				}
				$colonne++;
				$marque = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$modele = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$categorie = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$annee = (int)htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$couleur = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$taille = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$ptvmin = (int)htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$ptvmax = (int)htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$homologation = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$certificat = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$nbHeureVole = (int)htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$commentaire = htmlspecialchars($objPHPExcel->getActiveSheet()->getCell($colonne.$ligne));
				$colonne++;
				$colonne++;
				$surface=0;

				$marqueArticle = ControllerImportEcole::ajoutMarque($marque);
				$modeleArticle = ControllerImportEcole::ajoutModele($marqueArticle,$modele,$categorie);
				$article = new Article($typeMatos,$lot,$marqueArticle,$modeleArticle,$ptvmin,$ptvmax,$taille,$surface,$couleur,$nbHeureVole,
				$certificat,"","",$annee,$commentaire,$homologation);
				$article->save();
			}
			$colonne = "B";
			$ligne++;
		}
	}

	public static function ajoutMarque($Libellemarque){
		if(!Marque::marqueExistByLibelle($Libellemarque)){ //si la marque rentré n'existe pas
			$newMarque = new Marque($Libellemarque); //on crée la marque
			$newMarque->save();
		}else{
			$newMarque = Marque::getMarqueByLibelle($Libellemarque); //la marque existe alors on la récupère
		}
		return $newMarque;
		}

	public static function ajoutModele($marque,$Libellemodele, $categorie){
			if(!Modele::modeleExistByLibelle($Libellemodele)){ //si le modèle n'existe pas
					$newModele = new Modele($Libellemodele,$marque,$categorie); //on crée le modèle
					$newModele->save();
				}else{
					$newModele = Modele::getModeleByLibelle($Libellemodele); //sinon on récupère le modele
				}
			return $newModele;
		}
	}

	ControllerImportEcole::LireExcel();
	header('location:../views/ajoutFichierEffectue.php');
?>

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Fatema Jaffer Sheds Light to Immigration Reform by Storytelling
by Kyle Matthews
The United States has been a go-to place for different people from different parts of the world who seek refuge, jobs, and change in their lives in general. However, as the government changes through the times, their laws tend to value immigrants' rights less. Fatema Jaffer uses her voice to raise these concerns and enlightens people through her podcast, Sunday Stories @ Six.
It has been years since people from different countries come to the United States to get that American Dream, a measure of success for some, but little did they know that they need to get through a needle hole to experience the same rights as the citizens. From all the paperwork and the fees they have to pay for submitting the requirements, which does not ensure them of having citizenship, up to the low pay for immigrants, it is eminent that there is a bias on how laws are being put into use and how inactive the rules that supposedly protect immigrants are. Usually, the process for how can an illegal immigrant become legal is a tiresome, and long-lasting legal battle that not many can afford to attend.
Fatema Jaffer is a daughter of immigrants and is a first-generation United States Citizen, and she has witnessed and experienced the ill-treatment of the past administration to immigrants. Having seen, heard, and felt the stress and pain this brings to any immigrant, Fatema decided to use her wits and voice to enlighten immigrants of what is happening and how they can deal with it and hold the government accountable.
In her first episode, a special guest, Gabby, and Fatema provided updates on immigrants' status and the struggles they have to go through to be a US citizen by giving statistics and in-depth research. Indeed, this podcast is not like any other podcast. People keep on blabbing about things they barely know about to garner listeners and be presented as socially aware. In partnership with Friends Committee on National Legislation, wherein Fatema is an Advocacy Corps member, listeners are given reliable information and fruitful conversations.
Recently, the first 100 days after President-Elect Joe Biden's inauguration was pledged to be used in prioritizing multiple issues, including immigration reform. For a community to work, those who govern must take care of their people, and those who are governed must hold the people in charge accountable.
Sunday Stories @ Six is in partnership with the Friends Committee on National Legislation, a faith-based, Quaker, non-partisan organization that pushes for immigration reform, beginning with the H.R.6 Dream and Promise Act. Fatema aims to use this platform as a vehicle that could bring community members to the pathway of citizenship, which they highly deserve.
For future episodes, they will be inviting more guests, such as community members and advocates, to share stories, experiences, and learnings they've gathered that would help shed light on the topics at hand. The guests may or may not be named for security reasons, but the team promised to do fact-checking to keep in line with their plan to educate.
Fatema Jaffer started releasing episodes in September of this year and is continuously growing. Visit her Anchor account, wherein the different platforms people could listen to Sunday Stories @ Six are placed.
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The idea of The American Reporter landed this businesswoman to the digital avenue. Kyle brought life to this idea and rendered all that was necessary to create an interactive and attractive platform for the readers. Apart from managing the platform, she also contributes her expertise in business niche.
Five years ago, Chefrock was homeless. Now he is on the brink of opening his own restaurant. How did this...
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Startup Coworking Mate Looks to Offer Workers Greater Space


We care what our members think and get all warm and fuzzy when we get feedback like this.
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I joined rocket after having my son and the support and encouragement from the Rocket Fitness team has been fantastic even on the days I had no motivation. The other members are great and help boost the mood too. Both my kids love going into the Pocket Rocket Pit with Jody and the other kids, they all have a ball. Doesn't matter how unfit or fit you are or if you have old or new injuries they are always willing to help and accommodate all fitness levels. I highly recommend Rocket Fitness! Massive thumbs up to an awesome place to work out with friends.
Showing up to the gym everyday is not a chore for me. It is legitimately the best part of my day and I look forward to it! Rocket Fitness has taught me to love exercise through education and encouragement! I'm always trying to achieve more and be the best me. I have confidence in myself now that I have never had in my life and I genuinely owe that to Rocket Fitness! Thank you!
Daniel is well organised and passionate about high performance training.
Sessions involve many different activities and there are often targets and records kept for various routines. As such, I've found it easy to get motivated for sessions and always burn more calories in sessions with Daniel than I could either alone or with friends. His boxing experience and technique are excellent and learning good technique while getting fitter is great value.
Rocket is an fantastic gym that welcomes all members into the Rocket family. I love that no two sessions are the same and the trainers provide exciting and challenging classes every time. We receive great motivation and encouragement to reach our fitness goals. The kids also love the Pocket Rocket Pit which provides excellent care for the little ones.
There's always a good sense of anticipation and achievement with every PT session. Daniel's well of enthusiasm, routines, exercises and technical boxing skill seems bottomless. I wish I'd started working out with him years ago, and do thoroughly recommend his services to anyone who wants to get the most out of themselves and out of life.


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Stories from Thursday, November 10, 2005
Army career of PFC Elmer Richard Green (Local News ~ 11/10/05)
By Neoma Foreman Special to the Daily Mail On Jan. 26, 1943, when Elmer Green had just turned 20 years old, he received a letter from President Roosevelt saying, "Greetings. You are wanted in the service of your country." "I went to Fort Leavenworth, Kan., on Feb. 4, 1943, and was inducted into the Army of the United States. I received all my shots and equipment and shipped out Feb. 11, 1942, on a troop train headed west. Where, I didn't know."...
Parks board holds special meeting on master plan recommendations (Local News ~ 11/10/05)
By Ralph Pokorny Nevada Daily Mail Members of the Nevada Park Board left their special meeting Wednesday evening with a homework assignment: look over the draft of the scope of services for Adams & Associates and let the city know if it is satisfactory before their contract with the city is finalized...
Empire and Aquila file with MPSC for order to approve sale (Local News ~ 11/10/05)
Special to the Daily Mail JOPLIN, Mo. -- The Empire District Electric Company, The Empire District Gas Company, and Aquila, Inc., filed Wednesday with the Missouri Public Service Commission seeking an order authorizing the sale, transfer and assignment of certain assets and liabilities from Aquila to The Empire District Gas Company. ...
Kicking the habit before it begins (Local News ~ 11/10/05)
By Afton Bugg Nevada Daily Mail Look Before You Leap began nine years ago when by Tricia Brandt, special education teacher at Truman Elementary, Nevada, after her son was killed by a drunk driver. Brandt wanted to make young children aware of the dangers of drug abuse. This organization has more than 300 club members in third though fifth grades, who meet monthly...
Haylie Hope Louise Million (Births ~ 11/10/05)
Donald and Amanda Million, Bronaugh, and Johnathon would like to announce the birth of their daughter and sister, Haylie Hope Louise Million. Haylie was born at 8:59 p.m., Oct. 22, 2005, at Nevada Regional Medical Center. She weighed 6 pounds, 14 ounces, and measured 19.5 inches...
Edward Lee Hood (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Edward Lee Hood, age 58, Nevada, Mo., died Tuesday, Nov. 8, 2005, at the Nevada Regional Medical Center. He was born April 2, 1947, in Fort Scott, Kan., the son of Edward Lee Hood and Lenora Lightwine Hood. He married Debbie Davis on Feb. 29, 1996. Edward and Debbie lived in Pittsburg prior to moving to Nevada. ...
Jodene Swait (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Jodene Swait, 62, Nevada, Mo., died Wednesday morning, Nov. 9, 2005, at Lee's Summit Hospital, Lee's Summit, Mo. Family information mid funeral arrangements will be announced later by Ferry Funeral Home, Nevada.
Lonnie Lee Lentz (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Lonnie Lee Lentz, 67, died Nov. 6, 2005. Services were held at 1 p.m., at the First Baptist Church, Nevada, with Bill Visalli and Kenny Hoover officiating. Musicians were Monty Gordan, Darryl Wright and Tom Reed II. Musical selections were "How Great Thou Art" and "Because He Lives."...
Denzial Coreen Legan (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Denzial Coreen Legan, 94, died Nov. 6, 2005. Services were held at 10 a.m., Nov. 10, at First Presbyterian Church, Nevada, with the Rev. Greg Ferree officiating. Soloist was Ross Lawrence. Musical selections were "How Great Thou Art" and "Amazing Grace." Organist was Charlotte Miller...
Faye I. Lintner (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Faye I. Lintner, 76, Lamar, Mo., died Wednesday, Nov. 9, 2005, at Barton County Memorial Lamar, Mo. Family information and funeral arrangements will be announced later by Ferry Funeral Home, Nevada, Mo.
Virginia L. Smalley (Obituary ~ 11/10/05)
Virginia L. Smalley, 81, Nevada, Mo., died Thursday, Nov. 10, 2005, at her home in Nevada. Family information and funeral arrangements will be announced later by Ferry Funeral Home, Nevada.
T'ain't funny, McGee! (Column ~ 11/10/05)
The generation gap has really gotten to me lately. It's not that I am unhappy with the morals, styles and past-times of the younger generation. I might be in some of those areas, but that isn't my biggest problem. My problem is that the younger people don't understand my sense of humor...
Big oil still has one friend: Congress (Editorial ~ 11/10/05)
By Jill Lancelot America has seen its fair share of tough times these days: an ongoing war, a spate of devastating natural disasters, and a stumbling economy have all weighed heavily on families this fall. But there's one group of Americans who've weathered the storm quite comfortably: top executives at big oil companies. ...
Holmes placed on injured reserve, will miss rest of season (Other Sports ~ 11/10/05)
By Doug Tucker Associated Press KANSAS CITY, Mo.-- Kansas City Chiefs running back Priest Holmes will miss the rest of the season because of head and neck trauma diagnosed by three experts on spinal injuries. A helmet-to-helmet blow he absorbed on Oct. 30 against San Diego was the most recent problem for the 32-year-old running back. But coach Dick Vermeil said Wednesday signs of trouble first showed up when Holmes developed tingling in his hands during training camp...
Unconventional wisdom saves the day for Chiefs (Sports Column ~ 11/10/05)
The call was "20 Blast," and with it, Dick Vermeil may have saved the season for the Kansas City Chiefs. I must admit, when Vermeil sent his offense out on the field with five seconds left in the game, trailing by three to the Oakland Raiders Sunday, I thought he was nuts...
Bush presents Ali with Presidential Medal of Freedom (Other Sports ~ 11/10/05)
By Jonathan M. Katz Associated Press WASHINGTON -- Muhammad Ali, his hands shaking and eyes reflecting the White House chandeliers, accepted the nation's highest civilian award from President Bush on Wednesday. Bush called him ''the Greatest of All Time'' and ''a man of peace,'' and tied the Presidential Medal of Freedom around the former heavyweight champion's neck...
Following eminent domain issues (Editorial ~ 11/10/05)
By Rep. Barney Fisher I continue to receive much correspondence from district constituents regarding the U.S. Supreme Court's recent Kelo v. New London decision. All correspondence has opposed or criticized that decision and urged decisive legislation to protect Missouri's private property owners. I am absolutely confident that the sentiment to protect property rights is the prevailing attitude from the Governor's office and throughout the General Assembly...
**100 years ago Indiana man must eat dog on election bet PRINCETON, Ind. -- Geo F. Bryant, a paint maker, wagered a luxuriant crop of side whiskers and fine bulldog against $20 as evidences of his faith that Shull: the Republican candidate for mayor, would be elected Tuesday...


Finding a substitute for skiing that is inexpensive, close to the feel and movement of skiing, and that can be done without snow has been a dream of many coaches and skiers. An idea for just such a device came to me several years ago while out at dinner with my long-time friend Hermann Gollner and my partner Diana.
We had been training with inline skates that day and while discussing the experience, agreed that inline skates didn't produce the skiing feel, stability or resistance to tipping needed to develop skiing skills. We didn't get the sensations of carving and turning that shaped skis provide.
After further discussion, we came up with the obvious: inline skates couldn't possibly have the performance properties of skis because the single row of inline wheels tipped off their centers without effort. In fact, the rider had to work harder to keep them upright than to roll them "on edge".
Our impression of the "Harb Carvers" is that they mimic the feel of skiing and carving better than anything available. We would not have continued with this project unless we felt we had a very exciting and beneficial skiing simulation tool. Every skier who has tried the "Harb Carvers" is absolutely sold on it as a way to work on skiing technique. Each skier who has tried the "Harb Carver" can't wait to get his or her own pair. This tool for training and learning is fun as well as beneficial because of how well it reproduces the actions, sensations, and forces of skiing.


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The Wise Owl
Literary. Creative. Aesthetic.
A Monthly e-magazine
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Like Strawberries
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Swamy
My Wife! My Killer!
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A toy ukulele for Christmas is the start of Ian's life-long passion for music. He is accepted in the prestigious Juilliard School of Music, much to the pride of his parents. But Ian decides to join a music band in New York instead. What does destiny have in store for Ian? Steve Carr narrates a beautiful and touching story.
I grabbed the white, plastic toy ukulele from the back of a mostly emptied shelf of assorted toys. As a Christmas present, the ukulele had no significance. It was simply handy, easy to grab, an afterthought, something to add under the tree. The price of $6.99 was as cheap as the toy itself. I pitched it on top of the cart filled with other presents, checked out at the cash register, and left the store, happy to be free of the din of marauding last-minute shoppers. It was Christmas Eve.
Christmas morning it was the ukulele among his toy trucks, cars, fire engines, balls, action hero plastic dolls and electronic games that Ian became fixated on. Sitting among ripped Christmas wrap, ribbon and bows, he pensively strummed on the nylon strings, attempting to form music. Neither his mother nor I had any musical talent. He had learned how to hold the ukulele and run his fingers across the strings by seeing it done on television. Ian was five. An average youngster. Our only child.
From that morning on, when not at school, he carried his ukulele around the house all the time, plucking and strumming the strings attempting to play the songs he had learned in kindergarten. He never sang the words to what he tried to play, he only hummed along. It was his humming that allowed us to identify what he was playing. That was until one evening he played the first notes of 'Old MacDonald.' The tune was unmistakable.
Up until that moment I had observed Ian with a sense of detachment. It wasn't that I didn't love or care for him, but it was his mother who tended to his needs who spent the most time with him. I was never certain of what my role as a father should be. My own father never talked about being a father, and I observed him in the same way I observed Ian, as if I was seeing him from afar, not actually attached to me. I had read somewhere that what a child will do for a career later in life is formed in the child's first five years of his or her life, along with their personalities, in general. The idea of having a son who would play the ukulele for a living both excited and alarmed me. Hearing him play the tune to 'Old MacDonald' awakened me to my son's potential. To nurture his talent, I also knew it meant I would have to do what I hadn't done up to that moment: be an involved father.
The summer that Ian was twelve, we sat on the dock at the cabin we spent two weeks at every year, the acoustic guitar Ian held, resting its body in his lap, was as nearly as large as he was. I was watching my fishing line, hoping for a bite, dubiously hoping that Ian's playing wasn't scaring the fish away. He had acquired an interest in sea shanties and was teaching himself how to play 'What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor.' By accident while surfing the internet he heard an acapella rendition of the sea shanty 'Spanish Lady' and it captured his interest.
"Why?" I asked him.
"I like the idea of sailors from the olden days out at sea on those old ships and playing their guitars while singing that song."
"I think they sang it without any musical instrument at all."
He looked at me quizzically. "Are you sure?"
"I think so. Guitar accompaniment is a relatively recent thing."
Before I could say another word, he Googled 'guitar shanty songs.'
A week later at the music store I wouldn't have recognized that he was playing 'The Drunken Sailor' song if he hadn't been humming the lyrics along with the rapid strumming of the guitar strings. He wasn't a very good singer and resorted to humming or whispering through parts of it, as he did all songs. The salesperson urged Ian to consider buying a beginner's guitar, which was smaller in size, but Ian wasn't interested.
"I've been playing the ukulele and banjo since I was five," he told the salesperson. Ian didn't mention that he had only graduated to playing real and not toy ukuleles and banjos when he was ten and that while he had mastered the ukulele, he was far from mastering the banjo.
At sixteen, Ian stood at 6'0" and was still growing. He had been asked to play on his high school basketball team, but hating sports, he declined. His red hair was as unruly as he was – he took being a teenager seriously. His moods fluctuated wildly from outright hostility to regressing to that little boy who sat with me on the dock playing his toy ukulele. As a guitarist he was a marvel to hear play. He made use of discordant chords on his electric guitar in a way I had never heard before. He played rock music as if his entire body had been set on fire and the only way to extinguish the flames was to pound and pluck music on the strings at a madman's pace.
He formed a 3-person band that practiced in the back storage room of Shelly Forbes' uncle's furniture store. Shelly was the singer and bass guitarist of the band. They named themselves Rusty Bullets for a reason Ian could never adequately explain to me.
"It's just something to think about," Ian said. "A rusty bullet. What comes to mind?"
"A bullet that's rusty."
I often sat on an overturned crate and watched the band rehearse. Actually, I was there to watch Ian, but it was hard to ignore Shelly or Jesse Cairo, the drummer, another female. They were attractive girls and decent musicians, but they changed their hair color so frequently and to such extremes in the choice of color and style that the only way I recognized them sometimes was by the instrument they played. In height, he towered over them. At home I pressed Ian about his interest in either one of them other than as band mates.
"Dad, I'm there to play the guitar, that's all," he would say, rolling his eyes.
They played on the Sweeney River Park stage a few weekends during the summer. With the slow-moving current of the river in the background and the lights that lined the bank reflecting on the water, it was a beautiful sight. A few hundred locals, mostly older crowds, showed up every weekend with blankets to sit on and coolers stocked with refreshments and baskets of snack food. They weren't a rock music crowd. Ian tried to arrange songs that had titles or themes that fit the location, like 'She Took Him to the Lake' by Mallory Knox and 'Walk Into the Sea' by Johnny Marr. It was obvious the audiences weren't into it. They spent time while the 'The Rusty Bullet' played with their heads in the baskets of food, sorting out what they were going to eat, and shouting to one another, attempting to be heard over the loud music.
In his senior year, after a trip to New York and an audition, Ian was accepted into the famed Julliard guitar department.
Before he left, we went to the cabin for our annual two-week stay. Despite his mother and I acting chipper, a cloud of gloom hung over us, somewhat muting our joy in Ian's achievement. He was 6'3" and had already lost the appearance of still being a teenager, so treating him as if he was going away to summer camp was out of the question. Every morning he and I went down to the dock where I cast out a fishing line while he played tunes on his old acoustic guitar. I had watched and heard his evolution as a musician and marveled that other than the past year of receiving training from a guitar pro to refine his skill his ability had been mostly self-taught.
On the last morning before heading back home, we sat on the dock just as we always did. He slowly plucked the strings, as if pausing between every note, playing the Otis Redding classic 'Sittin' On The Dock of the Bay.' The tune was unmistakable but surprised me since he rarely played rhythm and blues or soul music. When I looked over at him, he smiled at me, wanly.
"I don't want to go," he said.
"Yeah, going back home is always a letdown after being here," I replied.
"No, I don't want to go to Julliard."
"It's cold feet," I told him. "You'll feel better when you get there."
"Let me put it another way, Dad. I'm not going to go to Julliard. I'm going to New York City, but I want to try hooking up with an up-and-coming band and try my hand at playing at concerts and clubs."
Ian's mother and I had always encouraged Ian to make his own decisions. How could I tell him that he was making a mistake? I bit my tongue, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
"Dad, I need a loan to see me through until I find a paying gig."
A few days later I accompanied Ian to the airport. His mother was too upset to go along, although she hid the reason why from Ian. From his fifth birthday to the age of seventeen I had always been close enough to wherever Ian was that I could get to him in a matter of minutes if he needed help of any kind. As I stood at the airport terminal window and watched the airplane as it lifted up from the runway, its wheels disappearing inside the underbelly of the plane, my heart sank.
It wasn't until several days later that we heard from Ian. He called me on my cellphone.
"Dad, I've met a girl who I really like."
He dated sometimes, but never really showed much interest in getting involved with the girls he met and rarely mentioned them.
"She's a cellist with the New York City Philharmonic. Her name is Sue Lin"
"Where did you meet her?"
"On the plane coming here. She took me on a tour of the city. On the ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty I decided to give up the guitar and try my hand at playing the cello. If you came here, you'd really like taking the ferry. It's not a lot of time on the water, but it was fun."
"Wait, Ian. Did you say you were giving up playing the guitar?"
"Yeah, but it's no big deal. One instrument with strings is a lot like the other."
I had no idea if that was true or not, so I didn't challenge him regarding it. I asked him to call his mother more often because she worried about him. He assured me he would and hung up.
His calls after that were infrequent, with irritated claims he was busy learning the cello and building his relationship with Sue Lin when we called and asked him to call us more often.
After a year he called me in the middle of the night. "Dad, I'm going to Venice?"
I was barely awake. "Did you say Venice? Venice, Italy?
"Yes, that Venice. I got a job playing the violin for a small restaurant. Background music. While customers eat."
"Violin?"
"I didn't like the cello."
"What about Sue Lin?"
"We broke up. Well, I have to get ready for the flight. I'll email you as soon as I get there."
"You're leaving no . . .?" He cut me off.
"Bye, Dad. Give Mom a kiss for me." He hung up.
Debris from the plane Ian had been on was found floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. A tag with Ian's name on it was found attached to a violin inside an empty life raft.
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Swamy: News Articles
Swamy has spent 15 years in the city of Bangalore as a vegetable vendor but when the pandemic lockdown happens, like many of his ilk, he goes back to his village. A new and happy chapter in his life begins as his days are spent cooking for his friends and enjoying their company. This is the beginning of his new avatar as the famous Rural Chef. Ranjit Kulkarni writes a story that is simple but makes us believe in everyday miracles.
I sometimes wonder if people are crazy or from some other planet. But I am not complaining. Why should I? Not at all. After all, what more would a simple man like me want? All that I do nowadays is to sit in my farm, cook my food and eat it with my near and dear ones, and my special group of friends.
But it was not always like that. Let me tell you, my story.
Two years back, before my current avatar, I was Swamy, the vegetable vendor in the hi-tech city of Bangalore. I got up at 4.30 AM every day. I went to the wholesale market with my pushcart. I loaded it with tomatoes, potatoes, onions, and other vegetables. Before I left, I made some space for chillies, coriander, and lemons. All with my bare hands, all alone. With my pushcart full by 7 AM, I left the wholesale market.
It was a journey that took an hour and a half to push it to the apartments where I sold them.
That day, in fact, for all days that week, the season was cloudy. The cold wind gave me shivers while I pushed my cart. The swaying trees suggested that the rain wasn't far. I glanced above and saw a bunch of dark clouds. A sign of things to come. Dark clouds first, then an outpour.
I stopped the pushcart in its tracks. I removed the plastic cover from under it in the chamber above the wheels. I wrapped it around the vegetables. A couple of tomatoes and some potatoes fell down in the rush to cover them. The rain had started coming down, not in torrents but in drips, like sprinklers that I have now fitted in my farm.
When I reached the first apartment that day, I was wet. It was almost 8.50 AM. The residents were up and running for the day's business. I parked my pushcart near one of the walls of the compound of the apartments and sounded my bugle. It had my pre-recorded voice in it.
It wasn't easy to keep shouting all day, every day. So, a friend had recommended this marvel device a few months back. Every one of my vendor friends had started using it. Technology came to my rescue then too. As it did now. While recording in it, I had shouted, "Vegetables, Fresh Vegetables."
When I pressed the speaker button, the apartment area reverberated with my voice. I thought that would ensure that everyone knows I am here. I waited for my regular customers to step out into their balconies or walk out to pick up the vegetables. "Tomatoes. Potatoes. Onions. Take them by the kilo," was what echoed when I pressed the second button.
I peeped into the small by-lanes of that apartment on the left and the right. Water had filled the walkways and play areas. Boys and girls in uniform rushed beside me to go to school, climbing into the waiting school buses. A couple of women walked out towards my pushcart with an umbrella. A bunch of men in tracksuits and raincoats walked past me. Some of them asked me the price of tomatoes. When they heard it, they walked away. I tried to stop them, but they didn't wait.
"Chillies. Lemons. Coriander. Take them by the bunch," I pressed another button on that device. I raised the volume so that no one misses it. It seemed like I was yelling at the top of my voice.
A few morning walkers picked up some of my vegetables, but no one bought anything. By 9.40 AM, with few people turning up, I gave up and started moving my pushcart to the next apartment.
I checked my phone. Till a few weeks back, I used to get loads of orders on the phone. They had now come down to a trickle. I called those numbers to check if they needed anything.
"No, nothing Swamy. Not today," most of them said.
"Madam, send me a message if you need anything," I said and moved on.
At the next apartment, the same thing happened, more or less. A few morning walkers found empty entertainment fiddling with my cart. They lifted some of my vegetables and kept them back on the cart. Some women walked past my vegetable pushcart. They stared at my fresh tomatoes but did nothing else.
I wondered hard and long what was wrong. People still ate vegetables. But over the past few weeks, my orders had dried up. But why?
A few days later I found out why.
That evening, some boys came to my cart and bought all the vegetables that I had in my cart. I was struggling with selling them throughout the day. I hadn't found many takers in my regular apartments. These boys came late in the evening to my cart.
"We will take everything, Swamy," they said. They started filling their baskets with whatever was there on my pushcart. I watched them working in their uniform t-shirts with awe. I thought I was lucky to have finally found someone to buy my vegetables, but my happiness was short-lived.
They paid me less than what I had bought them for. I had no choice. It was the end of the day. I told myself that at least, I didn't lose all my capital.
When they finished, I asked them what they would do with these vegetables.
One of them pointed me to their vehicle. It was a tempo that had loads of vegetables and fruits.
"We will supply them to the apartments early tomorrow morning, with their milk," he said.
I scratched my head. "But no one is buying vegetables in those apartments," I said. I did not realise my stupidity and naivete then.
The boy laughed and shoved his phone in my hand. He opened an app and showed me the list of orders he had received from my old customers in those three apartments.
An acute sense of anger and envy welled up inside me. I felt like someone had snatched the food on my plate. My face tightened. I clenched my fists. My eyes turned red for a moment. But even from my state of anguish, I could see my impending doom in store.
"They have already ordered?" I asked.
"Yes, and they have already paid," the boy sniggered. "Online."
He sat in his tempo vehicle and patted me on the shoulder. "Swamy, get rid of your cart. There is no point in going to the wholesale market early in the morning tomorrow. If you have a bike or a tempo, join us," he said and drove away.
That week changed everything for me.
The government announced that everyone had to stay at home for the next three weeks due to a virus. The tempo boys who came to pick up my vegetables that day, for the last time, said that three weeks was only the start. "Don't expect any business for two or three months," one of them sniggered.
I was stuck. Swamy, the vegetable vendor, had no reason to stay in this ruthless city. The tempo boys had already stepped on my stomach over the past few weeks. The government's announcement was the death knell. There was no way I could survive in this hi-tech city.
Someone in my neighbourhood told me to take the first bus to my village. I packed my bags and did it on the next day. I don't want to tell you how much I had to struggle to get on to that bus. That bus didn't go the full distance. I walked for a day as there were no more buses. But that is history now. Why should I complain? I didn't know then what was in store.
I landed in my village farm two days later. Today marks two years since that day. Little did I know then that I would never go back.
Egaperungumagalur in Puduttikkottai district. That's the name of my village.
I walked that day for forty kilometres from the bus stop to my home in that village. When I told my old mother, she cooked my favourite Jackfruit Kuzhambu recipe. Yes, raw jackfruit. I ate it to my heart's content. I had never felt better after a meal.
A few days later I went to the pond to catch some fish and crabs. Garfish. I cooked it myself. I smiled after a long, long time that day. My mother was happy. My wife was happy.
Life in the village is simple. I fell in love with it all over again. Ten years in the city as a vegetable vendor had pushed those memories to the bottom of my head. They came up again.
But there was nothing else to do other than cook, eat and be happy. All I did all through the day was to get some fish or chicken or some harvest from the farm and cook and eat.
You never know what's in store though. Never try to outguess God's plan. I realised that soon.
It was on one of those days that an old friend's nephew came to our house.
"Did you finish your computer course?" I asked him. He nodded but not with his usual smile.
"So why did you come back?" I asked him.
He kept his eyes on his phone for a while before he looked up with a twisted mouth.
"Company closed," he replied. "No job."
I stayed silent. Was there no difference between a vegetable vendor like me and this educated boy? Why did both of us find ourselves in the same predicament, coming back to our village from the city?
"Have lunch here," I told him. He nodded. He liked my idea. "Tell Chittappa to come," I said. He nodded again. I could see his twisted mouth straighten up a bit. He called my friend and asked him to come over. "Tell him I am making fish and prawns, and some chicken. Like old times."
The smile on his face returned now. When my friend came in, the decibel levels in our small house went up. We cooked our favourite village recipes. The boy was happy. With phone in hand, he recorded a video of us cooking it, eating it in our thatched hut. It was a wonderful memory. Life is unpredictable.
After a few days, we met at our farm with our families and some old friends. There were ten of us. We had a nice time. We made the most of it. We cooked huge quantities of Varagu Arisi Pongal. The boy called it Organic Millet Rice. Then we made Kambu Koozh. He named it Organic Millet Porridge.
We ate our food all through the morning and afternoon right there on the farm. We made a lot of noise, talking and playing. The boy was happy. He recorded everything again.
I wondered why he did it and what he did with it, till a few days later, when he and my friend came running to my house.
"Half a Million views," the boy shouted.
I didn't understand what he was saying. My friend jumped with excitement too. I had no idea why.
That is when he explained what he had done and what his plan was. He had uploaded our videos to YouTube. Close to five lakh people had seen it there. He wanted us to upload more.
"The more the number of people who see it and like it and subscribe, the more will we get paid," he explained.
Since then, we have uploaded more than one hundred videos of our village recipes to this channel. He has named it 'The Rural Chef.' Four other friends from the village have joined us now.
Naat Kozhi Rasam was our biggest hit. No, was it Mudakathan Keerai? How can I forget Vathal Kuzhambu? And of course, Ulundhu Kali. And Thippili Rasam. And Panakam. And, of course, Paruppu Thuvaiyal. And not to miss, our Temple Prasadam and Village Marriage Recipes. So many of them.
It has been fun. A heady ride. I never thought I will be anything other than a poor vegetable vendor.
Every week, once a day, we buy the ingredients and go to our farm. Then we cook our favourite foods, and eat them together with a lot of noise, and a lot of song and dance. And the clever boy records it and uploads it to our channel. He names it and puts some commentary and subtitles in English on it.
As the boy promised, YouTube pays us. It has been only increasing over the past two years. And for reasons that I haven't been able to figure out, people watch it. I don't know who is crazy enough to watch a bunch of villagers cook and eat and talk. All we do is enjoy ourselves in a lovely farm in a remote village. Some people find it interesting. I am not complaining. Whoever it is, I am happy.
I am going to tell my vegetable customers from those apartments in the city to subscribe to my channel. They can buy vegetables from elsewhere, from the tempo boys if they like.
But they can always enjoy my videos and use my village recipes, isn't it? I heard that they are still at home. The virus hasn't gone away. I will send them the link.
And like you, I will tell them my story. Who will believe it? Well, whether they do it or not, I don't care. Because it is true.
I am not going back to being a vegetable vendor Swamy again. I like being Swamy, the 'Rural Chef.'
And now, let me go record this week's dish.
Swamy: Welcome
Ranjit Kulkarni is a writer of short stories, articles, and novels. His work has appeared in Literary Yard, Indian Periodical, Academy of the Heart and Mind, Potato Soup Journal, Setu Journal, CC&D Scars, Café Lit, Muse India, Misery Tourism, Scarlet Leaf Review and Writer's Egg Magazine. More details about his work can be accessed at https://www.ranjitkulkarni.com. He lives in Bangalore India and is reachable at ranjit@ranjitkulkarni.com.
Swamy: Text
©2021-22 by The Wise Owl.


text:
About 4.3 million Covid infections estimated in UKon January 12, 2022 at 3:24 pm
Hospital admissions with the virus in the UK – the key measure – appear to have already plateaued.
About 4.3 million people in the UK had a Covid infection in the week up to 7 January – up from 3.7 million the previous week, the Office for National Statistics (ONS) estimates.
That is 6.7% of the population, but the rise in people testing positive is slowing down in all four UK nations.
In London, the ONS says the percentage of people testing positive fell from 9 to 8%.
However, across the north of England, infections overtook the capital's.
These are interim figures based on tests on thousands of people in households whether or not they had symptoms. Further data with more detail will be published by the ONS on Friday.
It estimates that the percentage of people testing positive for coronavirus in the first week of January was:
6.9% in England (previously 6.0%)
5.6% in Wales (previously 5.2%)
5.4% in Northern Ireland (previously 4.0%)
5.7% in Scotland (previously 4.5%)
This comes after the daily data released by the government shows a 13% fall in infections over the past week.
But these are only people who get a lateral flow test or a PCR and report the result – and they do not count reinfections, apart from in Wales.
Hospital admissions with Covid in the UK – the key measure – appear to have already plateaued at about 2,200 a week.
If this is the peak for hospital admissions, it is in line with the best-case scenario models produced for the government ahead of Christmas.
The fact that appears to have happened in the face of rising infection levels is another illustration of just how different the Omicron surge is, and how much vaccines have helped.
Experts, however, have warned that there is a risk the increase in mixing with the return of schools and people going to work following the festive period could cause another rise or create a long, flat peak.
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