text:
A Father's Story | Raising Cole
Developing Life's Greatest Relationship,
embracing Life's Greatest Tragedy
This is a story about fatherhood
about respect…
and about the simple, honest ways to create all three.
Excerpt 1
My son could always tell his daddy anything. No matter what the subject, no matter what the tone or the gravity, Cole Pittman could tell me. He could share his dreams without conceit; unburden his failings without fear.
Cole and I were tighter than most boys and their daddies; bonded, really, more than twins in the womb. "Me and my dad, I figure there is no other father and son in the United States closer than me and my dad," Cole once told a television reporter before catching himself. "You know, nobody in the world.".
Growing up a son in my house in northwestern Louisiana meant participating in a common practice called Dead Man's Talk. Sprung out of the necessity of men-will-be-men frankness at a deer-hunting lease in nearby Minden, Louisiana years ago, it was the ultimate in unvarnished no-tell confession. My friends and I would hunt all day and then gather in the small, simple huts at night to lay bare our souls and consciences, with no bag limit on the truth. We told of practical jokes we had played or how one of us had won a chili cookoff using dog food. We talked about whatever we wanted, or needed, to say. There was only one catch: What we saw, what we heard – the names, dates, places and times — stayed there.
I figured I could use this concept for child-rearing when my oldest son was 7 and my youngest boy, Chase, was 3 because it fit my one unwavering desire of parenthood — to be the kind of daddy I always wanted to have.
Under the rules, Cole and Chase could tell me anything and everything. I could have all the reaction of a dead man. What they told me could spark no spasms of anger, no lectures of right and wrong. There could be no reprisals. I could only listen and learn.
We shared most everything. Some of it made a father's heart swell with pride; some made it drop through his stomach. I heard some things I didn't want to hear, and every bit of what I needed to hear. Just as importantly, I told them things I'd never told anybody, the kind of things my father would never have shared with me.
I had loved my daddy, but he would never tell him me what my boys were telling me, never even think it. Our relationship was fabricated out of my simple desire to get a small nod, or that vague look of satisfaction that I saw in my father's eyes even if nobody else did. Edward Pittman was a barrel-chested, 5-foot-10, 220-pound powerhouse who worked seven days a week as a farmer and millwright, didn't drink, smoked a pipe and remains to this day the only man every to knock me unconscious, which he did twice. We were as poor as the dusty early 19th Century military supply road that ran by our farm. We raised what we ate and my 15 brothers and sisters and I slept three to a bed in a small white frame house with a tin roof.
When my dad needed something of me, his middle son, I didn't hesitate. At my daddy's bidding I dug wells by hand in the hard red clay, worked my end of a crosscut saw all day with no relief and tore down wasp nests with my bare hands. I got stung so many times that I learned to hold a wasp in my hands and laugh as it stabbed me.
Sometimes I got that nod.
I wanted my boys to get much more.
And so my sons and I had Dead Man's Talk about the grave and the trivial. We whispered as we cradled rifles high in a deer stand or joked as we tooled around in the pickup truck or ate shrimp and spaghetti at Cole's favorite Italian restaurant. We shared our triumphs and embarrassments while lifting weights in a steamy gym and in the cool night air of the deck behind our Shreveport town home. As Cole grew from a peewee soccer star to a college football lineman at the University of Texas we talked more often and covered more territory. I wanted nothing left unsaid. Nothing.
Once one of Cole's high school coaches, rankled that I may have had a too-perfect view of my son, pointedly suggested there were things I didn't know about his involvement in another boy's misdeeds.
"Oh, you talking about how he had dared the boy to shoplift?" I said.
The coach's eyes widened.
"You don't understand,'' I told him. "Cole tells me everything."
There now came a time for Cole to help me understand something I couldn't begin to grasp, to help me find the words to explain what I couldn't possibly fathom. On this night I laid down next to my son, pen and pad at the ready. It was my turn to unburden. In a few hours a man who only a few years earlier had gotten the sweats just at the thought of being called upon to pray in a small Bible study would be addressing several thousand people who would be hanging on his every word. I never needed my son's help more.
Though I had brought along a pillow and blanket, I had no intention of sleeping. We talked through the night, through the cloud-shrouded dawn, through the rainy early morning. At 10 a.m. I finally left, to wash up, to take a deep breath, to put on a white shirt, dark jacket and khaki slacks.
An hour later I returned, to find Cole just where I had left him. And after the music stopped, when the minister nodded at me that it was my turn to speak, I stepped up to the blue silver casket, leaned over, kissed my boy and whispered, "Son, what should I say?"
I'm 50 years old. I am a millwright and a construction worker. My entire life I have been a man who worked with his hands fixing things. If a house needed a new roof I shingled it. If a room needed to be enlarged I knocked out a wall and added on. If a support beam was sagging I shored it up. Over and over again I fixed what was broken and changed what I couldn't fix, from cracked panes of glass to the way I approached and lived my life. That's what I was good at. That's what I did.
On the morning of Feb. 26, 2001 God gave me something I couldn't fix or change. My son, a junior defensive tackle at the University of Texas, fell asleep behind the wheel of his 1997 red Chevrolet pickup truck while returning for the first day of spring football practice. Sometime around 7:30 a.m., his truck veered off Highway 79, hit a guardrail, flipped and landed upside down in a brush-covered creek bed. I pray he died instantly.
People are always asking me how I'm doing, how I'm handling the grief of losing my boy. The truth is that we do not pay much attention to our soul. Neither do we pay much attention to our fingers, our hands or our eyes until they are bruised or battered. Then that part of our physical being becomes important. When you bury your son, your soul is bruised. God is the only source of comfort to ease that pain. That is why I embrace the pain, because God shows up and helps me through it.
I've buried my father, my mother, cousins and a niece. I watched my sister die from a two-year struggle with breast cancer. I found my nephew in a field, dead of a shotgun wound to the head. Add up all that pain, multiply it by a billion, and it wouldn't scratch the surface of losing Cole Pittman.
The people who ask mean well, I know. It's not always what you say to comfort someone, it's just the fact you're saying something. They try to understand, but they can't, just as I can't understand what it's like for any other father who has lost his son. Every relationship is different, every loss unique. I can only tell you how I tried to handle it.
How we handle pain determines whom we become. For me there was only one approach – meet the pain head on. Don't duck it. Embrace it. Drown in it. Let it smother you until you can smother it. Coping with death, to me, is all about remembering love. I don't worry about the pain. I'll worry if I ever stop feeling the pain.
I was blessed to have a son like Cole and I'm doubly blessed that Cole can continue to touch people even in death. After he died I got hundreds of letters, phone calls and e-mails, most of them from people I didn't know. Somehow, some way, they had heard of our story. President George W. Bush sent a note. The chancellor of the University of Texas' fiercest rival, Texas A&M, sent his condolences. Notre Dame sent a card signed by the entire football team.
Many of the responses came from people from all walks of life, who had heard our story from friends or read newspaper articles about Cole. They weren't football fans, had no ties to the University of Texas and had only one common bond – they, too, wanted to build better relationships with their loved ones. There was a woman doctor in Houston, a single parent who wrote that she pasted the Prayer of Jabez on her refrigerator after reading a newspaper story that talked of its importance in our relationship. There was a woman who was in the San Diego airport the morning after Cole's last game in the Holiday Bowl and saw a young man playing with some little kids while his teammates slept. There was the preacher in Kansas City, who sent me a basket of breads and jellies along with a note that said for months after I visited his church he still got requests for copies of the tape of my remarks there.
People always tell me one other thing, after they ask how I'm doing. They tell me what a special bond I had with Cole, how it's touched them and made them work harder to have the same relationship with their children. They tell me I was lucky. Maybe I was, but I worked at it too.
Those people want me to tell them how we got so close. They want to know how I could convince my boys to tell me everything; how our love would be so without compromise that they would think nothing of kissing me on the mouth in front of 83,000 people or holding hands in our truck as we drove around town.
We did Dead Man's Talk because I didn't want the emptiness and silence I had with my father. When my boys buried me I didn't want them to feel that anything was left unsaid. I wanted a relationship with honesty and trust. With work, we were able to build that. Anybody, if willing to work at it, can do it too, and not just with sons but with daughters and brothers and sisters and parents and anybody else they want to pull closer.
We fought what we called Love Wars, where a spoken "I love you" was answered with a salvo of "I love you more" and escalated from there. We were always trying to outdo each other in showing our love, not only by words but also by actions and sacrifices. It's an approach that can work in any human relationship and it brings peace and satisfaction I can't even begin to describe. I never wanted to win the war, but I sure couldn't stand to lose it.
We listened. Many a time my sons recalled a lesson I had taught them long before, when I didn't think they were paying attention. I learned how important it was to mean what you say and say what you mean, and how relationships are built like houses. No building, no matter how well constructed, will stand without a solid, well-laid foundation. Honesty was our concrete; openness and trust our rebar. Relationships don't just happen. They're built.
The foundation of my relationship with my father was made of fear and respect. Neither love nor affection ever figured in the mixture. That's like trying to mix a good load of concrete without sand or gravel. My father never told me that he loved me, never showed me any affection except the occasional pat on the head. God, how I wished I would have heard him say it just once.
Often I hear people talk about how they don't get close to their kids because they never had a father to learn from. You don't need a father to learn from. All you need is a heart, a resolve and one simple guideline – be the father you always wanted to have.
I am blessed in that I have another son, Chase, and we have gotten as close or closer than Cole and I were. Ten months after Cole's death, Chase followed his brother to the University of Texas. He lockers one cubicle away from where his brother did, plays the same position Cole did as a freshman, and drives the same road that took him to his death every time he makes a trip home. He hugs the pain in the same eyes-wide, chin-up, chugging-life-at-110-miles-per-hour embrace that I do.
Forgetting the pain would mean forgetting my son. Cole Pittman lives as long as he's not forgotten. I want as many people to remember him for as long they live. Call me selfish. I want him to live forever.
My mother always said I was unkillable.
"I always worry about something happening to my chirin', but I don't worry bout you,'' she said in her French Cajun accent. "If you was goin' to die, it'd happened a long time ago."
She might have had something there. In my life I've survived being hit by a van and having a two-hundred-fifty-pound scaffolding fall five stories down an elevator shaft on top of me. I've wrestled bears and swam to within staredown distance of a twelve-foot alligator. I probably should have been killed many times over now.
It sure wasn't for lack of trying.
When my father died of liver cancer I lost my only reason for living. He was my hero, my role model. He gave me my only feeling of self worth. Without anything else even resembling a healthy relationship in my life, there was no love worth treasuring.
After he passed away I would go to his grave just to be close to him. I felt he was still someone who could intercede for me here on earth. I felt I could get his strength, his wisdom. He would point me in the right direction. He would watch over me.
Around me, life went on. People expressed their sorrow, but they moved on. They couldn't understand how I felt, what I had lost. Truth be told, I couldn't understand it either.
I began to numb myself with alcohol. Many a night I'd go out drinking, only to end up at Fellowship Cemetery, where I'd sob in the darkness. I'd ask God why. How could I fill the emptiness? Sometimes I'd just sit down on the grass. Sometimes I'd pass out, my head leaning against my mother's side of the family headstone, waking up at dawn when the shotguns went off to scare the deer from the nearby watermelon patches. Sometimes I'd ask for daddy's help. "If you could just intercede for me up there,'' I'd say, "I could be up there with you. I just don't have the balls to do it myself."
As you can tell, I'd gotten pretty good at feeling sorry for myself. My temper was equipped with a hair trigger and my solution to every affront was to fight. I don't know how many times I defended the honor of a woman who I didn't know, just for a chance to mix it up. Sometimes a guy would up the ante and pull a handgun on me, waving it in my face and trying to get me to back down. I tried to stare him down the way my daddy used to stare down dogs. If that didn't work, I'd just laugh like a lunatic and slap the gun out of his hands.
I'd do crazy things. Randy Reagan, my running buddy, and I would drive up behind a lumber truck, the grill of my truck almost nudging its bumper. My friend would crawl over the hood and leap on the back of the truck. Once aboard, he'd get the chain saw that was always strapped near the back, carry it over the logs to the cab, crawl over it and deposit the chain saw on the front hood. Then he'd run back, jump back in the truck, tell me about the stunned look on the driver's face. We'd have a good laugh.
Early one morning, after a night of rolling dice, we took a '58 Chevy truck and took turns running up the railings on the side of a bridge trying to flip the truck for no better reason than to see if we could. Another time, totally sober but no less numb, I figured the solution to unclogging a three-foot pipe filled with wood pulp residue was to cut it open with a Skil saw. When I made the first cut, water spewed out and soon I was standing knee deep in water operating an electric saw. I burned out three saws cutting that pipe, but the cord never hit the water. I knew I could be electrocuted. I heard people call me an idiot. I just laughed.
I had made the biggest discovery of my life . . . to that point. I had found the ultimate high. It wasn't the alcohol, and I've never taken drugs. The high was to be absolutely fearless of death. Live, die – it didn't matter. The closer I came to dying, the bigger the high.
Why I didn't die I'll never know. Part of me certainly wanted to. Deep down, though, I felt that I had some deep, indescribable feeling that I wasn't supposed to die. Destiny had other plans for me. I would be a father.
Hunting was always part of my life and I treasured the time I spent with my buddies at an isolated lease outside Minden.
During the day we'd sit high in stands and take turns trying to bag a big buck, or we'd hunt squirrels or whatever was in season. At night, the days' kill dressed and dinner finished, we'd kick back around a blazing campfire and shoot the bull.
The place wasn't anything fancy. We'd managed to get a concrete truck back there and pour a twenty-five-foot square foundation, on which we put up a very rustic wood cabin. There were cabinets on one end and a set of French doors, which I'd salvaged from a fire job, that led to a wooden deck out back. We got a bricklayer to come in and build us a fireplace at one end and a pit out on the deck where we could cook and grill.
We'd sleep in an old construction trailer in which we'd crammed eight or ten bunk beds and with whatever furniture we could find. Water came from a gravity-fed thousand-gallon tank up on a wood frame. Out to one side we had a skinning rack so we could dress any game we took right there. We built a small corral for the four-wheelers, not to keep them from jumping out but to keep thieves from jumping in. The power came from a generator and some solar panels. There were some luxuries – air conditioning and a television – but mostly it was a place to get away.
It didn't look like much, but I'll tell you one of the greatest joys of being a father, one of the greatest tools for getting close to your children, originated right there at that hunting lease.
When the day's hunting was done, when the days' kills were dressed, when dinner was a memory and some of our number were enjoying a cold one, we sat around the campfire and talked. Now we were leveling our sights on quarry no less elusive that what we had hunted that day.
The truth, plain and unvarnished.
My friends Mike and Pat Woodard introduced a concept they'd picked up from a friend. They called it Dead Man's Talk, and simply put it was a no-tell confession. The name came from the notion that it was like talking to a dead man. A dead man couldn't repeat what was said. It would not make him angry or stick in his craw. It wouldn't change an opinion or influence a friendship. It would be said and it would disappear forever like a breath on a cold night.
Now these confessions didn't have to be anything big or scandalous. It didn't have to be something that we did or didn't do. It could just be something of which we were ashamed or secretly proud. Maybe it was something like winning a local chili cookoff using Alpo dog food and chili powder. I'm not saying that was a product of Dead Man's Talk, because in order to be part of those discussions you would be bound by the rules. It could also be something as silly as putting a beer can on the local Baptist Minister of Music's car hood and hiding around the corner. Or addressing him by name as he picked up the can and snapping a picture of him when he looked up. Or threatening to send the picture to the local church board if he didn't feed us.
Now I'm not saying that was a product of Dead Man's Talk, either. You understand I can't. What I will say is that I wish I'd taken two pictures because he cooked pretty well.
Along the way I came to realize this wasn't just a way to unburden or get a few laughs. By sharing these stories we opened up areas in our lives that we hadn't shared with anybody. Knowing something about a buddy that nobody else knows, not even his wife or parents or kids, brings you closer to them. You know you share something special.
It sounded to me like the perfect relationship between father and son.
Cole was seven and Chase was three when I introduced the concept of Dead Man's Talk to them. I explained it just the way Mike had explained it to us at the lease. I told them they could tell me anything. That could mean anything they were doing or thinking of doing, anything their friends were doing or thinking of doing. Whatever they told me would stay with me. No matter how much I might want to punish them for it, I couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to lecture them, I wouldn't. That didn't mean I wouldn't explain the consequences of their actions or intended actions, or remember it and maybe use it to shape what I would teach them or how I'd try to influence them later. But I made certain they understood that what they told me during Dead Man's Talk only I would ever hear.
I promised them that on my life.
The day is February 24, 2001. If you were going to spend two final days with someone you loved, how would you spend them?
The first week of January 2001, I was sitting in the First Assembly of God in Shreveport listening to Pastor Denny Duron preach about the Prayer of Jabez. It was so simple, yet so direct, it captured my soul. I began to get up every morning at five o'clock, hit my knees and recited the Prayer of Jabez from 1 Chronicles 4:10 over my son.
"Oh God, bless Cole indeed and enlarge his territory, that your hand would be upon him, and that you would keep him from evil, that he would cause no harm!"
At first it gnawed at me. When I said the prayer each morning was I saying it as a selfish prayer? Was that what I was doing?
As I thought about it one morning, I suddenly wanted to read the Bible but couldn't find my reading glasses. I knew there was a pair in Judy's office in the house, so I went there to get them, all the while chewing it over. Would my son be glorified? Or would God be glorified? I wanted an answer.
As I passed the laundry area I saw a book sitting on the dryer. Believe it or not, it was "The Prayer of Jabez" by Bruce H. Wilkinson, the best-selling author. When I finished reading it, I understood I wasn't being selfish. I was asking God to bless my son.
On February 24, a typical Saturday morning at our lakefront town home, I rose at 4 a.m. to say the Prayer of Jabez and read the Bible.. Then I headed to the driveway to get the morning newspaper. Much to my surprise and joy there sat a red Chevy truck in the driveway, with Cole asleep behind the wheel. He had driven all night from Austin, getting in at two-thirty in the morning. Knowing that if he came in it he would wake me up and I wouldn't go back to sleep, he roughed it in the truck.
I was so excited to see him, I dragged him out of the truck, covered him with kisses and dragged him into the house to Mama. After Judy added her kisses on top of mine, we put him in our bed, told him to catch some sleep and we would talk when he got up. When he did we just sat around and talked most of the day. Cole decided he'd go to a Mardi Gras party in town with a few of his friends.
There was something different about Cole this weekend. I mean, he glowed he was so radiant. I had never seen him this happy and I hadn't seen him this big. He was huge. His trapezius muscles seemed to start almost beneath his ears and ran out over his shoulders, swallowing any evidence of a neck. His chest was much larger than I had ever seen it, but he was still pretty cut. I had never seen his arms this big. You could see the confidence in the way he walked. But most important of all, I could tell Cole was starting to like who he was.
On most nights when our boys went out, Judy or I would wait up until they came in. Chase's curfew was midnight, but with Cole being there and us trusting him so much, we went on to bed.
Sunday morning we went to church. Cole stood beside me, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of Chase's pants because he had not brought any church clothes. My best friend Ken Meeks came up from behind us and told my boy, "Well, Cole, you've always wanted to be bigger than your Daddy. You have arrived. You make your daddy look like a pencil neck basketball player.".
I pretended I was hurt but I was swelling with pride. Both boys lived for the day that they would be bigger than me. The two things you would never see me get truly upset about they were that one day my boys would get bigger than me and that they would ultimately win the Love Wars.
Cole had brought his radiant joy to church with him. Several people picked up on it. Coach Dennis Dunn's wife Melanie went home after church and called her husband, who was out of town.
"You should have seen Cole today, he looks unbelievable," she remembered telling him.
The plan was for us to have lunch together, hug and kiss and love each other, then send Cole on his way back to Austin by three o'clock that afternoon. Spring football was scheduled to start that Monday morning with a ten o'clock meeting and Cole wanted to make a great impression on his first day as a full-time defensive tackle.
I was surprised when he came and asked me, "Dad, would you mind too much if I spent the rest of the afternoon with you and just left when you get up in the morning? I'll have plenty of time.".
Frankly, I was glad to have him stay. I certainly wasn't looking forward to him going back, then or later. He and I went out and got in the Jeep Wrangler, took the top off of it and just starting riding around, holding hands and talking. We rode around and looked at some properties that I thought might be good investments. I told him my dreams and he told me his. To me this was one of the best afternoons that I had ever spent with Cole, just visiting, laughing and talking.
We came upon a lady who had a flat at the intersection of Ockley and Line. She was struggling to get the jack out of her vehicle. We pulled over and in just a few minutes we had that tire changed.
She was so grateful for the help.
"Son, what do I owe you?" she asked Cole.
Cole grinned his best an aw-shucks grin.
"Ma'am, if you will just smile for me and promise me that you will have a good day," he said, "then we've been paid enough.".
Soon the sun started creeping below the horizon and it was starting to get a little cool to be riding around in that Jeep. I asked Cole if he was ready to head back to the house.
"Let's make one more stop," he said.
Cole wanted to go see Coach Ronnie Alexander, his old defensive coordinator at Evangel. As they sat and talked football, I couldn't help but notice how close they'd gotten. Cole made it a point to let Coach A know he wasn't going to let his football coaching go to waste. Cole was going back to Austin to fulfill his dreams.
After we ate dinner at home, Cole sat next to me on the couch. We watched a movie together. Chase was over at his girlfriend's house and walked in about the time the movie was ending. I cautioned Cole about staying up too late, because he would have to get up early. I didn't know until later that after watching the movie with me, he and Chase rented a movie they hadn't seen since they were kids. They went up into Chase's room and lay there and watched that movie together.
When I think back on all he did that day and the grace and joy he did it with, how he glowed so bright, I wonder if he knew that this would be his last day on earth.
If you had only two final days, how would you spend them?.
* * *.
It was still dark when I went into his room at four-thirty and shook him awake. Judy fixed him some peanut butter sandwiches, a bottle of water and a large cup of coffee for his trip. Three times he walked out the front door to head to his truck. Three times he went back in and kissed his mother goodbye.
When we finally made it out the door I walked him to the truck, arm-and-arm. As we stood before the truck I once again prayed the Jabez prayer over him. "Oh God, bless Cole indeed and enlarge his territory, that your hand would be upon him, and that you would keep him from evil, that he would cause no harm!".
When I finished I kissed him.
"Son, you go back to Austin,'' I told him. "You bless God and He will bless you.".
"Dad," Cole said, "I love you so much.".
Cole climbed in the cab and started the ignition. He looked at me and smiled. Then he backed up down the driveway, popped it in drive and headed toward the front gate of the community.
Normally when I saw my son off to school, after the truck went out of sight I'd turn and walk back into the house. That morning, for reasons I couldn't then understand, I walked out to the brick mailbox at the end of the drive and stood rooted. I just stood there and listened to the loud pipes on his truck as he roared down Willowridge Boulevard to Lakeshore Drive and out to Loop 220, which would start taking him back to Austin. The roar seemed to go on forever and ever and ever. When it finally faded, I turned and walked back to the house. Looking up, I noticed Judy standing at the door, tears in her eyes. She had been listening too.
It's funny. You suffer through something like losing a son and sometimes it's the little things you think about.
Cole didn't have his cell phone with him this day.
I think about what difference that could have made. Usually I would call him three or four times on his trip back. Usually he'd call me three or four times.
If he'd had that phone, maybe one of those calls would have come as he sped down a lonely mile of road on Highway 79, just a few miles east of Franklin, Texas.
Even today I'll pick up my cell phone, punch forty-four – his uniform number — on the speed dial and hit send.
It was approaching ten o'clock Monday morning. I knew he would be getting there close to the time of the meeting but I had told him to try and give me a call when he got to Austin so I would know he was okay.
Ten o'clock came and went. I thought maybe he had just gotten there in time to get to his meeting and didn't have time to call. I went through the normal day, thinking about him, worrying about him, but feeling like he was okay. He'd call.
About one-thirty, I got anxious. I called Caren's apartment and left her a message to tell Cole to be sure and call so I would know he was okay. At two o'clock, knowing I should have heard from him by now, I called back and left another message. I was starting to get a knot in the pit of my stomach.
A few minutes later, Wanda Allen, my business partner walked in and said one of my sisters called to tell me to stay in the office, that she was coming to see me. I knew immediately then that something had happened to someone in my family. I still did not want to believe that it was one of my children.
I called Caren again. Still no answer. I left a frantic message to please get Cole to call, that something had happened to somebody in the family and I was worried about him. I didn't know what had happened, but please call.
My cell phone rang; it was Ronnie Alexander, my friend and Cole's favorite coach. I told him I couldn't talk that something had happened to somebody in my family and I was trying to find out who it was and I hung up.
What I didn't realize was that he was on his way to the office too. He and the entire Evangel coaching staff. When I heard them come in the front door of the office, my blood went cold.
Ronnie was the first one in my office. His legs buckled and fell to his knees in front of me weeping. He kept telling me how sorry he was.
"Was it Chase? Something wrong with Chase?" I asked, thinking because they were in town and had been around Chase, that something had happened to him. They just looked at me.
"Is it Cole?" I asked.
They began to weep.
"Is he dead?" I screamed. They couldn't even tell me.
I picked up the phone and called Judy. I said, "Come to the office now." Then I dialed the University of Texas. Mack Brown answered the phone. He was weeping uncontrollably.
"Tell me my boy is there next to you,'' I said, hoping against hope. "They're trying to tell me he's dead. Tell me he's standing there next to you.".
"I wish I could,'' Mack said and he began crying.
"Marc, what do you want me to tell the kids?" he said.
I thought about what Cole would want me to tell the kids.
"Coach," I said as steadily as I could, "just tell them I love them.".
I hung up the phone.
I didn't know what to feel. I was not crying. I was numb. I was mad. I stood up and looked at the coaches and I begin to quote the Jabez prayer, each word steeped in sarcasm. I looked at the heavens as I fairly spat out the words. … Enlarge his territory, that your hand would be upon him, that you would keep him from evil…OH, YOU BLESSED HIM ALLRIGHT. …
Was this God's idea of enlarging Cole's territory? What kind of God would do that to this boy? Why would God do this to me? I had been doing what I was supposed to be doing. Cole had been doing what he was supposed to be doing. Why did God let us down? Cole Pittman may not have been a perfect person, but Cole Pittman was the perfect son. For the first time in my life I was facing something that I just didn't know how to handle. I just wanted to be alone. I walked out of the office and walked out toward the warehouse, trying to get myself together.
As I wandered in circles a sudden, strange peace began coming over me. I began to understand. God didn't take Cole. God needed Cole more than I did, more than this world did. At that moment God and I came to an agreement. God told me that if I honor Him, He will honor this boy. He'll bless him. He'll enlarge his territory.
A police car sat in the driveway. It was then I saw Judy turn into the driveway and get out of her car. The coaches and the policeman had followed me outside, keeping their distance, when they saw Judy drive up. When she got out of the car, I was perhaps forty yards away. She took one look at me and started backing up. She started screaming.
"No, I don't want to hear this. Get away from me." Judy started running down the street, screaming. She ran into the middle of the vacant lot and collapsed. The coaches had run to her side to comfort her. I was still mad as hell. I walked up to her and screamed.
"It's Cole. He's gone.".
The University of Texas had already put black stickers with the initials CP on their helmets and kept Cole's locker just the way he left it. The school started a scholarship endowment in Cole's name and deemed that nobody would wear number forty-four until Cole would have graduated.
Mack Brown wanted to do more. He wanted to honor Cole with a special ceremony before a home game so they selected Sept. 8, 2001, a day the Longhorns would be playing Mack's former team, the North Carolina Tar Heels.
We were honored, but we had a bit of a logistical problem. Evangel was scheduled to play a night game in Monroe, about two hours East of Shreveport. Kickoff for the North Carolina was set for eleven o'clock in the morning. Mack, worried about an all night drive, arranged for us to catch a plane in Monroe and fly to Austin. It wasn't easy, because Chase was considered a potential recruit and the NCAA has strict rules about paid visits. But Texas, through some lobbying with the NCAA, came through.
I could tell it was going to be a special weekend when we got to Monroe. There was a solitary cloud in the sky, and it was shaped like a Longhorn. Evangel dominated the game against Ouachita, building a forty-point halftime lead. Our starters never saw the field in the second half. Flush with victory and a little on edge over what awaited us at Royal-Memorial Stadium, we boarded the plane to Austin.
Mack had made arrangements to have us picked up at the airport and carried to the Capitol Marriott, the team hotel, where the next morning we had breakfast with the team. We began to try to prepare ourselves for a day of mixed emotions, but that was impossible. When we walked out the tunnel and onto the field there were eighty-three thousand fans cheering and waving. Before the game Mack gathered the team around Judy, Chase and me and presented us with a framed jersey and the scrapbook that one of the Texas Angels support group prepares from the day that a scholarship football player arrives on campus until the day he graduates. They had a special surprise: Cole's "T" ring. A "T" ring is a treasure coveted by Longhorn athletes and given only to those who earn their degree. They had made an exception in Cole's case.
On the JumboTron they showed video of the speech he made when he committed to Texas, right down to the end where he said it wasn't just about football but about promoting Jesus Christ.
I later heard from a couple in Tennessee, watching the presentation on television, who accepted Jesus after listening to that video.
Texas kicked off, held the Tar Heels on downs but then had to punt. When North Carolina got the ball back their quarterback tried to hit a quick slant. Texas defensive coordinator Carl Reese called a stunt that had end Cory Redding dropping in coverage.
Cory was one of Cole's best friends. One night in Dead Man's Talk Cole had talked to me about some of the personal problems that Cory was dealing with. I don't think Cory will ever know just how much Cole loved him. Cole cried on the phone that night because of what Cory was going through. Since then, I've kept a close eye on Cory. I don't think Cory knows that I see some of the things that he still does to commemorate my son, from kissing the CP sticker on his helmet to putting his finger on the CP and pointing to the sky after a big game. Cory has touched my heart forever.
The North Carolina quarterback, confused by the stunt, threw the ball right to where Cory was standing. He intercepted it and raced down the sideline as the quarterback, who had the angle on him, came over to cut him off. Not knowing how athletic Cory is, the quarterback went for his legs. Cory expected that from a quarterback. He simply somersaulted over him, leaving the ground at the four-yard-line and landing flat on his back in the end zone.
It was almost surreal how many of Cole's closest friends played a big part in the game. With UT leading 38-14 late in the fourth quarter, linebacker Reed Boyd, a good old country boy like Cole who came to Texas in the same recruiting class, intercepted a Tar Heel pass.
Texas drove down the field. With 36 seconds left, another buddy of Cole's, Brett Robin, dove over for a touchdown. I was excited as anyone with the prospect of a big win on such a special day. I was so caught up in the festivities and emotion that I had no idea what had just happened. I didn't even look at the scoreboard.
Thank God Chance Mock did. Chance was Cole's best friend. After Cole died, Chance wore the old hunting jacket that Cole used to wear. It was too big for a little ol' quarterback but he wore it anyway. I wanted it back but I didn't have the heart to ask him for it, because Chance meant so much to us, too. Cole would call us at nine-thirty every night. When Cole died, it was Chance who would call at nine-thirty every night.
Aside from being Cole's suitemate, Chance was also the Longhorns' third-team quarterback, which meant he was the guy standing next to the coaches charting plays. After the touchdown he made a beeline for Mack Brown. As the extra point team trotted on the field he pointed at the scoreboard. Mack understood.
Under Texas it read "44.".
Major Applewhite stepped under center, got the snap and took a knee. All around us fans turned to us and held up both hands, each with four fingers extended.
It would end at 44-14.
After the final gun we headed down to the field. Weeping, we hugged every player and every coach we could. The players surrounded Judy and Chase and me as we walked back across the field to the locker room. It took Mack a few minutes to get the players settled down so he could give his post-game speech, but then he presented us with the game ball.
I told the players that beating North Carolina was one NC for Cole Pittman. Let's get one more NC before the season ends. I didn't have to mention that NC stood for National Championship.
Judy was so emotional she could hardly talk. She just told the players how much she loved them.
Chase pointed at the football team. "I'll see you in January," was all he said. He was going to follow his big brother to Texas.
We hugged everyone in sight and then it was time to head back to the hotel. Mack had arranged a car for us but the Texas fans had been so great we just wanted to walk back through their midst, thanking as many of them as we could.
They surrounded us. We hugged some more. We autographed programs they presented to us. I wanted to stop at the tailgate party sponsored by Hornfans.com, a fan-based UT website that had been so supportive of us. The owners, Katy and Robert Agnor, had been instrumental in helping us raise funds for the Cole Pittman Memorial Fieldhouse at Evangel, and we wanted to go by and hug them and let them join in our celebration. Robert was behind the grill, cooking for the fans. Tears ran down his face as he hugged me and kissed me. We would have stayed forever but we had a dinner date and time was running short.
We still had a good half-mile to walk so I decided we needed to catch a cab. I stepped out to the street and there was a yellow minivan taxi. As we climbed into the back seat, exhausted, the cab driver started a conversation.
"Man, how about forty-four points for number forty-four, Cole Pittman,'' he said excitedly. "What an awesome kid this must have been.".
I knew this guy hadn't been to the football game so he must have been listening on the radio.
"Wasn't it awesome," I said.
He looked back over his shoulder and sized me up.
"You look like you may have played football. Are you a parent to one of the players? Have you ever met this guy, Cole Pittman?".
I nodded. "We are his parents," I said quietly.
The man started weeping. He wept all the way back to the hotel. The last thing he said was, "I only wish I could say for sure, I had given an individual like Cole Pittman a ride one time.".
I tried to give him his fare. He wouldn't take it. I had to leave it there on the backseat.
That taxicab driver will never know how much he blessed us that day.
"This book is a roadmap for parents seeking to create a lasting relationship that can withstand the storms of life."
Bestselling Author Max Lucado
I HOPE READING MY STORY HAS opened your eyes to improving your relationships with God, family and friends and made a positive difference in your life. You too can make a positive difference by sharing this book with other people or contributing to the following fund. This fund will allow kids who are not as fortunate as Cole to have the same opportunities to reach out and touch other people and change lives.
5252 Norfolk Rd.
Email: marc.pittman@raisingcole.com
Copyright©2018 raisingcole.com
Please read our Usage Agreement Privacy Policy


Law office is an office which is maintained by the lawyers. Law offices mainly practice law. Law office is dedicated to providing reliable and friendly services to the client. Some law office offers free consultations while others for a fee. Law office is committed to offering legal advisory services and they also aid in the formulation of the treaties. Law office can be made of one lawyer or a number of lawyers can come up and form one. Law firm advises the client about legal rights and their responsibilities. The law office may represent their client in civil or criminal cases as well as in the business transactions. Law offices usually depend on the jurisdiction in which the office practices like a sole proprietorship, the general partnership among others. Only lawyers who have interest or mandate to owe a law office. Law offices have different structures depending on the countries they are in.


Back in the early days of this blog, we liked to poke fun at a campus celebrity we called Hot Mess. Now it looks like the real celebrities are poking fun at him. Check out Jason Biggs (American Pie, Saving Silverman) and Joel David Moore (Avatar, Dodgeball) giving Zach Russo '11 a hard time on the set of Grassroots, directed by Stephen Gyllenhaal (father of Jake and Maggie and fiance of Vassar professor Kathleen Man). The clip also features Jon Miller '11.


Thickened cream may not work as well for making butter, as its gelatin content could potentially affect your end results. Cold water This will be used later on to wash and rinse the buttermilk out of the butter.... tips to make thick curd or dahi at home use a good quality milk. full cream milk yields a luscious and thick curd. always boil the milk before making the curd. this ensures that the milk does not spoil during the fermentation process.
25/05/2008 · The cream in the ice-cream makes it thick. If you want a super-dooper thick milkshake, use Coinnoseur chocolate obsession icecream, throw in some crunchies and just experiment with the right amount of 'milk'.... tips to make thick curd or dahi at home use a good quality milk. full cream milk yields a luscious and thick curd. always boil the milk before making the curd. this ensures that the milk does not spoil during the fermentation process.
25/05/2008 · The cream in the ice-cream makes it thick. If you want a super-dooper thick milkshake, use Coinnoseur chocolate obsession icecream, throw in some crunchies and just experiment with the right amount of 'milk'. how to make cream cheese from raw goat milk Thickened cream may not work as well for making butter, as its gelatin content could potentially affect your end results. Cold water This will be used later on to wash and rinse the buttermilk out of the butter.
Thickened cream may not work as well for making butter, as its gelatin content could potentially affect your end results. Cold water This will be used later on to wash and rinse the buttermilk out of the butter.


text:
Cecidonia xenophana är en lavart som först beskrevs av Gustav Wilhelm Körber och som fick sitt nu gällande namn av Dagmar Triebel och Gerhard Rambold.

Cecidonia xenophana ingår i släktet Cecidonia och familjen Lecideaceae. Arten är reproducerande i Sverige.

Källor

Externa länkar

Sporsäcksvampar
xenophana

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


If you are suffering a domestic violence issue, it is essential to involve a strong and aggressive lawyer. If you or your children are being abused by your spouse or a domestic partner, the situation calls for legal assistance. Charles E. Willmott, P.A. is a firm that focuses on providing the protection individuals need during this difficult time.
If you are facing a domestic abuse issue that needs to be addressed, do not hesitate to call my firm. I will do everything I can to use my legal knowledge to protect victims of physical abuse. The court has the ability to issue an emergency domestic violence injunction that can prohibit you spouse from making contact with you. The purpose of this injunction is to avoid further occurrences of abuse while you take further legal action. I make it a priority to also offer caring and compassionate counsel to my clients who have been victims of domestic violence.
As a Jacksonville family lawyer, I can be a valuable asset to your situation. An injunction is only a temporary protection prior to enacting a divorce. My office can help you file an injunction that can provide you with the support you need during this time. I can also connect you with an arrangement of agencies that can further assist you throughout this time. I am a marital and family law expert who can help arrange substance abuse counseling, psychological evaluations, and anger management classes by the Court if necessary for you and your spouse.
How Can Domestic Violence Affect My Divorce?
The state of Florida is a no-fault state, meaning when you file for a divorce, you do not have to provide your spouse's wrongdoing. However, by providing a fault such as abuse, could help in determining equitable, or fair, distribution.
If domestic violence is a reality for you, seek protection through a court order to keep your spouse away from causing further harm to you. With a Protection from Abuse order, your spouse may not legally get in contact with you. If the order is violated they could face possible jail time.
With a seasoned Jacksonville family law attorney by your side, they can help ensure you obtain the results you deserve while maintaining protection for you and your family.
Has an Injunction Been Filed Against You?
Domestic violence does not always have to involve actual physical violence but can involve fear or a threat of abuse. If a false domestic violence injunction has been filed against you, it is important to contact my office immediately. I may be able to help you through your domestic violence hearing and even represent you in court. If you have been accused of domestic violence, there is a lot at stake at this time. Your reputation, ability to secure work and housing opportunities may all be affected if you are convicted of domestic violence.
A judge's ruling can sometimes require you to leave your home, prevent you from visiting your children and demand that you take domestic violence classes. If you have been falsely accused, it is important not to take any chances. As an experienced family law attorney, I am prepared to help you through this difficult situation. Even though you have been accused of violence, you are still entitled to certain rights at this time. I will do everything I can to protect those rights in court for my clients.
Whether you are a victim of domestic violence or have been falsely accused of physical abuse, Charles E. Willmott, P.A. is ready to provide the legal support you need.
Contact the Jacksonville divorce lawyers at the firm today to start pursuing the protection you need and deserve.


After the dangerous chaos of the First and Second World War, Albania was led into total isolation between 1960 and 1985. The efforts for reform during the following period were severely disturbed by the conflict over Kosovo that was positioned in the center of the turbulences in the Balkans. As a consequence of the NATO airstrikes against Yugoslav targets in 1999 more than half a million refugees crossed the border to Albania.
But in 2003 the EU came to Tirana's help and the Stabilization and Association Agreement was signed. In 2009 Albania joined NATO. The recent step towards EU came in June 2014 when the EU Commission recommended Albania as candidate for EU membership.
Paskal Milo is an Albanian historian, politician, and leader of the Social Democracy Party of Albania. He has also been a member of the Albanian Parliament since 1992, and a professor of Albanian and Foreign literature. Milo has held various posts under the Albanian government in the late 1990s and early 2000s, notably that of Foreign Minister and Minister for the European Integration of Albania.


Hello Fashionistas! I just wanted to share with you another amazing find that I came across during the Macy's Friends & Family Sale earlier this year. (PS although the sale is over, I believe the next one occurs in the Fall at some point, so keep an eye out for that!). I was in dire need of a gold watch and since I've been wearing gold accents a lotttt lately, I figured that a gold watch would suit my style fabulously. I heard about the Friends & Family sale going on at Macy's and naturally started browsing. I stumbled across this Marc by Marc Jacobs watch that i fell in LOVE with. BTW, originally $200 and I paid $150! Not too shabby. Considering I was going to purchase a gold watch regardless, I thought…why not buy it now and save $50?! That's huge. That's a tank of gas, or two!
If you are in the market for a gold watch, or any watch for that matter, I would suggest probing your local department stores for some awesome coupons or seasonal events. Don't be impatient! I would certainly rather wait a week or two to save money on a pricey purchase, than be impatient and end up spending more!
Purchase the Marc by Marc Jacobs watch above, or similar ones HERE!!
'Tis the season for wearing wedges! Wedges pair perfectly with almost any summer outfit, and they flatter all figures as well. An outfit adorned with a posh pair of wedges ignites instant style, and embraces comfort. The fact that such a cute shoe can efficiently elongate the leg is wonderful. For those who are slightly height-challenged, these shoes are perfect for you, because of the fact that they add inches onto your natural height. In addition, they are extremely versatile in the sense that they can appropriately be worn during the day, yet they can comfortably be worn during evening hours.
Good Morning Fashionistas, incase you didn't know, ITS MAXI DRESS SEASON! Here are some different types of maxi dresses that you can search for in the desired store you wish to shop at, as well as some maxi dress wearing tips. Maxi dresses are the absolute trendiest apparel item that you can wear to a more-than-casual but less-than-formal occasion. For example, last Saturday was my friend's graduation party, and I wore one of my maxi dresses to the event. Since the dress is cotton, it definitely dresses down the look, however, the fact that it is a dress spices up the femininity, establishing the ideal look.
There is only ONE rule when it comes to donning a maxi dress: DO NOT PAIR WITH WEDGES!
When pairing this elongated dress with elongated shoes, the look becomes completely warped. The shoes do not compliment the dress (or vice versa), because they both are huge fashion statements that do not work well together. So keep the shoe game simple wearing flat sandals, and you can never go wrong.
The following are a few different maxi dress styles that are up for grabs under several various brands. Take your pick!
I recently purchased a few nail polishes that caught my eye in the store! These colors are essential for every girl's nail polish collection. The two pink hues are rather similar, but even the smallest color variation definitely makes a difference. The green hues are also necessary for summer, because if you couldn't tell already, I recently am OBSESSED with green, so of course I had to purchase these two sassy shades. Which one is your favorite?!
WE love short shorts!!! Shorts can be SO fun! They can come in funky prints, consist of shiny studs, be high-waisted, or contain cool colors. Here are some shorts that I am in love with. To construct this list of fabulous shorts, I drew inspiration from my friends, my favorite brands, and Philadelphia street style. Which style is YOUR favorite?
So here's to the official start of SUMMER!!! Happy Memorial Day to everyone and a quick shout out to all of the men and women who continue to support our country! With Memorial Day comes tons of social events, so here are a couple of cute outfits and ideas that you can sport on this fun, yet meaningful holiday!
For a classy/preppy look, pair a solid colored blazer with a printed dress for an instant and stylish ensemble. Be sure to make sure your accessories are not too gaudy, because the print of the dress, and the vibrant colored blazer will add enough spice to this look. A few arm candy pieces, along with a bold time-piece, and a classic crossbody bag, instantly pull the look together, and will have everyone gushing over your chic and sassy outfit.
This striped crop top is essential for this summer season's wardrobe. It can be paired with virtually any bottom, and would look especially fabulous with this pair of studded jean shorts below!


The element of surprise, especially if it's a great one, is something that should always be welcome in cinema. Case in point is Alex Pettyfer (I Am Number Four, Magic Mike) an actor who had a straight shot to the Hollywood A-list before taking a several year detour. That change of direction lead him to Back Roads and, if anything, we're the beneficiaries of an inspired and immersive narrative.
Harley Altmyer (Alex Pettyfer) is working two dead end jobs, barely scraping two nickels together to support his three younger sisters. His mother Bonnie (Juliette Lewis) is living out her life in jail after shooting her husband, leaving Harley as the sole breadwinner in this rural Pennsylvania domicile.
Understandably feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, Harley is often closed off and unaffectionate to his sisters. He finds comfort in alcohol, and if a rigorous consumption of beer helps him black out for a spell, then so be it.
Callie (Once Upon a Time's Jennifer Morrison, delivering an earthy and raw performance) is Harley's neighbor, a lonely housewife in need of company. Their inevitable sexual union serves as a transitory way out for both of them, but these moments are a band-aid for festering wound that plagues Harley's unrelentingly bleak existence.
Amber (Nicola Peltz) is 16, and though she's supposed to serve as a role model for younger siblings Jody (Hala Finley) and Misty (Chiara Aurelia), her mind is firmly set on boys and promiscuity. With no help from Amber, continued resentment towards his mother, and a past he simply can't erase, Harley turns to Dr. Betty Parks (June Carryl), a woman who's trying her best to save our protagonist from the abyss.
Nicola Peltz in "Back Roads." Courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
The story starts off with a murder, as Harley is being questioned by an unshakeable lawman (Robert Patrick) who's determined to figure out a glaring, illogical aspect of the killing. Starting off the film at the seeming end of Harley's journey may dissuade some viewers from continuing further, but this reviewer suggests a bit of patience, as the mystery is just beginning to unfold.
What's not a mystery is that Pettyfer, who has already proven to be a magnetic leading man (for proof, check out his work in the refreshingly enigmatic The Strange Ones, a synchronistic spiritual cousin to Back Roads), is also a first rate filmmaker. Though the story is seen through the eyes of Harley, much of the film's success lies on the first rate work of all the actresses involved. Peltz has the difficult job of playing an emotionally complex teenager, and her confrontations (and chemistry) with Pettyfer is highly charged and, without giving too much away, ultimately resonant. Jennifer Morrison, in a role that could be seen as a femme fatale part, brings a extra level of humanity to the proceedings, and Juliette Lewis, as she always seems to do, delivers scene stealing work in one of the storyline's most jaw dropping instances.
With his choice of actresses, a stand out screenplay (from Fatal Attraction filmmaker Adrian Lyne and Tawni O'Dell, adapting from her novel), and aided by a visually talented cinematographer (Jarin Blaschke, who shot The Witch), Pettyfer had a ton of momentum going into Back Roads, and he thankfully doesn't drop the ball.
Certain movies, after the credits roll, may be an enjoyable but forgettable experience. There's a ton of entertainment to be had, even if it's fleeting. Back Roads is a gift that keeps on giving, and two weeks after viewing I simply can't get this movie out of my head. Though it looks to have the pulpy trappings of a B-movie thriller (trust me, I love those type of films as well), Back Roads covers much more ground, and Pettyfer brings a subtle and effective touch to the story's numerous twists and turns.
Our time on this Earth is limited, and there are too many movies to experience out there in this great big world, but thanks to an engaging and multilayered storyline, a return to Back Roads is definitely warranted, even if that path leads to darkness.
Back Roads hits theaters as well as VOD & digital on December 7.
Back Roads is one of the films covered on this month's episode of CinemAddicts. Take a listen!


The University of Minnesota Medical School Anatomy Bequest Program ensures availability of anatomical donations for undergraduate and graduate medical education, outreach, and research at the University of Minnesota, other similar teaching institutions, and medical and biomedical device research facilities throughout the state. The Anatomy Bequest Program strives to create a network of donors, researchers, educators, students and healthcare providers to meet the challenges of existing health care needs within our community and promote the advancement of medicine for future generations.
Striving to affect the lives of patients by supporting medical education and research through the gift of body donation.
Accountability - Taking responsibility for actions, answering to our community and stakeholders, being mindful of potential negative outcomes.
Advancement - Working to identify and meet the needs of donors and end users, fostering learning and education whenever possible.
Ethical approach - Protecting donor autonomy and preserving dignity. Practicing compassion, respect, empathy, and caring in all interactions.
Excellence - Setting quality-centric, efficiency-oriented goals.
Service - Coordinating with researchers, educators and donor families to make a difference. Striving to anticipate change and meet expectations.
Stewardship/Advocacy - Diplomatically serving the donation community, participating in public dialogue about anatomical donation issues, working together within and across organizational boundaries in pursuit of our common mission.
Trust - Operating using transparent and honest methods.


The CBIA announces the resignation of Chair Brad Rogers.
The 2013 Australian International Beer Awards has announced a record 1,480 entries for 2013.
This week we catch up with Brad Rogers, co-owner and head brewer at Stone & Wood, Chair of the Craft Beer Industry Association and recently named Chief Judge of the Australian International Beer Awards.


About: There is nothing just like having a cellphone accessible so it will be effortless to stay in touch with folks. Even so, for many, striving to use a mobile phone is quite tough. Even when you realize how to utilize one, locating the best package can be hard. Keep reading for many excellent advice.


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Q: In MongoDB how to find all documents which are in my list of ObjectId's? I have a list of ObjectId's _id's and I want all the documents which match these ids, is there an efficient way to find these objects in one query?

A: Yes there is, use the $in operator.
http://docs.mongodb.org/manual/reference/operator/query/in/#op._S_in
Example usage:
var arr = [ObjectId("52b11a1a3055376e9e00003d"), ObjectId("52b11a1a3055376e9e00003d")]
db.collection.find({_id: {$in: arr}})

A: The $in operator takes an array of arguments so what you want to do is supply all of your ObjectId values in a list to that:
var list = [ObjectId("53cf334bb3b0796e36d42184"),ObjectId("53cf3358b3b0796e36d42185")];
db.collection.find({ "_id": { "$in": list } })

Also see other query operators in the manual:

A: How about the $in operator as follows:
db.collection.find({_id: {$in : [ObjectId("505bd76785ebb509fc183733"), ObjectId("505bd76785ebb509fc183734")] }});

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
741 Meeting Street
741 Meeting Street is a new 30,000 SF commercial building located in the Upper Peninsula on Meeting Street at the western terminus of Williman Street. Designed in conjunction with Sottile and Sottile of Savannah, the goal of the design is to create a timeless, durable architectural expression with a transitional character that acknowledges both the..
Gale is a 2,100 SF interior restaurant upfit project on the ground floor of the Meeting Street Lofts building. The owner envisioned an intimate 40-seat family style restaurant with an open kitchen concept and clay dome pizza oven. While the style of cuisine centers around Italian staples, the menu will be an extension of the..
Quarters L
Quarters L is located on the former Charleston Navy base facility in what now is called Riverwalk Park. Built in 1938 as a Works Progress Administration project to serve as officer's quarters, the style of the structure was meant to mimic homes near the Panama Canal in the 1920s. Quarters L is one of 40..
313 East Bay Street
Near the Gaillard Auditorium in the Ansonborough neighborhood, is 313 East Bay Street, a historic Charleston single house built in 1815. The Middleton Group is working with Bowman, LLC to transform the current office and apartment spaces into an upscale 5 unit long-term hotel. In the historic home, the top two floors will be converted..
Palmetto Brewing Co.
As the first microbrewery to open in Charleston since the Prohibition, Palmetto Brewing Co. has been making great beer since 1993. When Palmetto was able to acquire the entire warehouse in which they had built their brand, they hired the Middleton Group to complete an interior renovation and expansion of their current space, restore the..
Ship's Wheel Cidery
Ship's Wheel Cidery is the first cidery in South Carolina! Adapted from an old appliance parts store in Park Circle, the owners wished to create a bright and open feel to the space that would attract locals and become a favorite neighborhood hangout spot. In the interior tasting room, screen walls around the bathroom area..
Kaminsky's – West Ashley
The Middleton Group worked with Homegrown Hospitality to create their third Kaminsky's location in the Avondale District of West Ashley. Architects Laura Middleton and Will Morrison, along with interior designer Brittney Hanlon, imagined a versatile and comfortable space for both families and late night patrons to enjoy coffees, desserts, and drinks. Seating options allow for quick..
Owners Andrea and Sal Parco wished to update their successful Mustard Seed Restaurant in Mount Pleasant, SC. The Middleton Group provided architectural consulting and interior design renovation for the existing 2,500 sf building. Our interior work included furniture selection and layout, seating design, fabric selection, window treatments, bar design, paint colors and artwork. To create..
Commonhouse Aleworks
Commonhouse Aleworks is a new 7200 SF brewery in the Park Circle area of North Charleston, SC. The production area of the brewery sits in the larger metal building, while the front, wood clad structure houses the taproom and bar. The building was designed to create an outdoor patio space to the side of the..
Workshop is Charleston's first exploratory food court where emerging and renowned chefs can experiment with culinary concepts. Six rotating kitchens serve employees of Pacific Box and Crate as well as the local community. There is both a interior seating area as well as a covered courtyard for families and coworkers to eat. Workshop offset, Bad..
The Middleton Group
1503 King Street Ext. Suite 202
blake@themiddletongroup.net

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


The Theory Of Revolution 2012 Tour has begun to take shape with the first of a series of concerts already confirmed. This will be a tour headlining the US band, Die Sektor. In addition to this incredible EBM band will be an impressive line up of , Deviant UK,	for all the emptiness, and special guest, The Gothsicles.
It has been has confirmed that Die Sektor and these other bands will be performing Leland City Club in Detroit, Michigan, USA. This show's to be a very fun concert that everyone should see.


Avoid these pitfalls when you are starting your ESL or English teaching career online or offline!
Don't Quit Your Day Job ... Yet!
You are probably familiar with the phrase "Don't Quit Your Day Job!"
Usually people say this when they want to tell you that you aren't very good at something or that they don't think you will succeed at something new.
Are you tired of online schools giving you the runaround?
In this live video Kris Amerikos talks about how he helps teachers make the transition from being offline teachers in companies and schools to being independent teacher-entrepreneurs.
In this video Kris Amerikos talks about using social media marketing as a teacher or as a teaching business. Creating a social media plan and executing on that plan every day will help you get clients by providing your audience with a trusted source of valuable content.
In this video Kris Amerikos talks about building your own personal brand as a teacher or as a teaching business. Building your own personal brand will help you stand out in the marketplace and will help you attract more of the right type of clients.
Kris Amerikos helps teachers find jobs and helps teaching businesses find teachers.
Jeffrey LeClaire has been teaching English abroad since 2007 and has worked in China, Russia, Iraq, and Turkey.


After wandering the floor a bit and getting the lay of the land, I headed to my first panel of the con, Loving What You Hate: How to Love Media That Doesn't Always Love You Back. The panel consisted of members of the Digital Future Lab at UW Bothell discussing their passion for various fandoms at the same time they examined what is problematic in each. (Problematic in this context refers to lack of diversity, racism, homophobia, etc.) It's something many of us deal with, whether we're directly effected by the particular issue or not. The conversation was based on a podcast episode by the same name from the DFL. The main take-away is that while we are bound to fall in love with things that have problematic themes, it's also important to examine those problems and talk about them. And if you're not sure if something is racist (for example), look into the response from the community it's affecting. No community is monolithic, but it's important to step outside yourself when an issue doesn't directly affect you. It was a great panel, you should give the podcast episode a listen.
Stay tuned for more tales from the con, coming up tomorrow!


To segment or not to segment? Should exhibitors be clustered in different thematic groups? These are the questions many Parisian trade shows are asking themselves these days, and the answers vary. While Tranoï decided to start grouping up exhibiting brands according to themes, the next Who's Next show is going in the opposite direction. The event, scheduled at Paris' Porte de Versailles exhibition centre on 19th-22nd January, has decided to ward off what could be described as visitor fatigue by abolishing the thematic clusters in which it used to group ready-to-wear labels.
While Who's Next's accessories counterpart, Première Classe, will occupy the exhibition centre's hall 3, the main show will take over halls 2 and 4, with a new, homogeneous approach, doing away with the 'Studio', 'Private', 'Trendy' and 'Urban' sections. "We found that the segmentation was no longer satisfactory: not only it failed to provide added value, but it also generated misunderstandings, as some brands failed to identify with the show's sections," said Aude Chabanier, the Director of Who's Next. This willingness to simplify things is also consistent with a reduction in the number of exhibitors, which will be about one hundred fewer than January 2017.
The iconic 'Fame' section will remain however, relying on its founder's Sophie Guyot's idiosyncratic brand selection, though it will be incorporated within the show's overall designation. Located in hall 2.2, Who's Next Fame will once again showcase 200 labels, among them American Vintage, Suncoo, Laurence Bras and Mes Demoiselles, as well as new entries like Not So Far, Maison Montagut and Stella Pardo.
The remaining ready-to-wear exhibitors will simply fly the Who's Next banner, with a made-over look though. Hall 4 will in fact have a new layout, featuring a reorganised circulation flow amidst its 300 or so stands, plus the emerging labels represented by collectives such as Atelier Meraki. "The new layout will respect each brand's environment. The will be no confusing gaps, but the idea is for visitors to look at the show's range of exhibitors with something of a new perspective," said Aude Chabanier.
The show will introduce a new stand configuration, the same for all exhibitors, and there will be areas acting like "breaks", to punctuate the visitors' journey. Five brand hubs will be recognisable among the aisles, embodying the theme chosen by Who's Next this season: 'Jazz & Sapeurs', referencing the Sapeurs (pioneers) fashion movement which developed in Paris in the 1970s.
Finally, another group of ready-to-wear brands will occupy the communication area located between 'Fame' and the Première Classe show. This sort of detached section is the solution offered by the organisers to labels aspiring to be included in the 'Fame' section. Some fifteen labels were picked for this separate section, and Who's Next has asked each of them to showcase their own distinctive take on innovation. They include La Fée Maraboutée, Lauren Vidal, Vue sur Mer and newly relaunched New Man.
The challenge for the show is to spark renewed enthusiasm by rethinking the way in which brands are displayed. "We must fight harder and harder to attract buyers. If we want to show them trends, it's more easily done by being more clustered," said Aude Chabanier, referring to the show's more homogeneous layout within a smaller area. Who's Next also wants to ramp up the energy by setting up, within hall 4, a conference area, the Fashion Solutions section with its twenty or so companies, and a large lounge area, both lively and welcoming, its décor inspired by Prohibition-era bars. It will notably be the venue for a 'Sapeurs' show on the event's opening night, Friday 19th January, as well as for a string of events and ateliers run by design collectives during the show's four days.


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Russia, Japan Agree to Put Pressure on N Korea to Refrain From Provocations
© REUTERS / KCNA/Handout
https://sputniknews.com/politics/201703201051761201-russia-japan-korea-provocations/
Japan and Russia pledged to put pressure on North Korea to abstain from further provocative actions and to comply with the UN Security Council resolutions at talks between the two countries' foreign and defense ministers, Japanese Foreign Minister Fumio Kishida said Monday.
US Missile Defense in Asia-Pacific Disproportionate to N Korean Threat - Lavrov
TOKYO (Sputnik) — On March 6, media reported that North Korea fired four ballistic missiles, and three landed in Japan's exclusive economic zone. According to the Japanese Defense Ministry, the missiles did not inflict any damages. South Korean military claimed that the missiles had flown more than 600 miles.
Pyongyang said that the launches were a successful drill to strike US military facilities located in Japan.
"We held an in-depth exchange of views on the North Korea nuclear and missile issues and agreed to urge North Korea to refrain from further provocative actions, as well as to comply with the UN Security Council resolutions," Kishida said at a joint press conference following the 2+2 format consultations.
The six-party talks launched in 2003 aimed to end North Korea's nuclear program via negotiations involving the United States, China, Russia, Japan, South Korea and North Korea.
The negotiations reached a stalemate when North Korea withdrew from the talks in 2009 and has since carried out multiple nuclear and ballistic missile tests.
Japan Conducts First-Ever Emergency Drill Amid North Korean Missile Threat
China Prepares to Counter US THAAD Missile Defense System in South Korea
US, South Korea, Japan Launch Joint Military Drills Amid DPRK's Missile Tests
Security Tensions Rise as US Pushes THAAD Missile System on South Korea
North Korea May Be Close to Targeting US With Nuclear Missile
Fumio Kishida, Japan, Russia, Democratic Republic of North Korea (DPRK)