It all started in 1965, when Janice Parker bought a dress for her daughter Diana. She loved the dress and insisted on wearing it for her picture day in kindergarten. Her five younger sisters liked the dress, too, and they each wore it for picture day when they went through kindergarten. And so did their daughters. And then their granddaughters.
The latest girl in the family didn’t want to wear the dress, or any dress. But she did, along with pants and a baseball cap, so the tradition can continue. Watch CNN video
Matt Bracone made a Harry Potter inspired Pensieve so that his wife could open up lovely memories whenever she wanted.
Here’s Matt’s description:
When our wedding was getting closer, I was wracking my brain to find the perfect gift for my soon-to-be wife. As we are both Harry Potter fans, I turned to the Wizarding World for inspiration. After she smiled at me and hit me with a stunning spell, I awoke to know exactly what to get her: her very own Pensieve.
For those who aren’t Harry Potter fans, a Pensieve is a bowl used to view memories. Dumbledore would use his wand to pull memories from his head and store those memories in bottles. When he’d want to see a particular memory, he’d pour the bottle into the bowl to view it.
An eight-year-old from Waitsfield, Vermont, has spent the last four years collecting loose change with a goal in mind: to buy his very own service dog. That dedication paid off this week when Aiden came face to face with his new best friend, Angel.
Aiden was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes four years ago. Soon after he learned about canines trained to help monitor glucose levels in people. "They can sense it 20 minutes to 30 minutes before the blood meter actually tells you that you're low," Jenni explained. Service dogs are expensive - each costing $15,000. But not to be discouraged, Aiden's mom told her son to save, one penny at a time. When Aiden was about $9,000 from his goal, news coverage of his story helped bring in donations from across the U.S., raising more than $20,000 almost overnight.
"We have been so amazed by the outpouring of support," Jenni said. "He is feeling the love. There are no words."
Campbell Remess from Tasmania, Australia has made about 800 teddy bears since he took up sewing three years ago. The 12-year-old takes his finished works to sick children at Royal Hobart Hospital to bring some much needed joy....Campbell had wanted to buy presents for sick children but when his mom Sonia reminded him how he had eight siblings, he decided to make the teddy bears himself.
"Lots of people like skateboarding and socialising with their friends, I just like coming home and sewing," Campbell said.
The self-taught sewer took five hours to make his first bear, but he now assembles a teddy in an hour. Campbell visits sick kids in hospital every Thursday. "He looks at sadness and tries to turn it upside down," Sonia said.
Five years ago, his father Nathan was diagnosed with cancer. A tumor the size of a tennis ball was removed, but there is an 80 per cent recurrence rate. "When we discovered dad had cancer it was really upsetting," Campbell said. "Cancer gets worse with stress, so I made him the bear, so he could get rid of the cancer."
Nathan said the bear had helped him ward off the cancer. "There's a little big of magic in them," he said. "A lot of magic in Campbell though."
Sometimes, when the paths of two lives unexpectedly intersect, magic happens. This is one of those times.
Beth Crowley grew up in Jamaica Plain, the oldest of six kids, and was educated in Catholic schools right up until she collected her history degree from Merrimack College in 1969.
Before a follow-up appointment, the doctor called with this message: Bring your husband. I have bad news. “Not something I expected,’’ she said.
The bad news was this: Beth Crowley had multiple sclerosis, a diagnosis that would eventually lead her to The Boston Home, a grand and extraordinary place on Dorchester Avenue for people with neurological diseases.
And that’s where Beth Crowley met Elisabeth Bellabe.
Bellabe grew up in Haiti’s capital, Port-au-Prince, the youngest of four children in a home where her dad worked as a mechanic, her mother as a cook. When she came to the United States 11 years ago, she arrived without a high school diploma, bouncing around at odd jobs from Manhattan to Miami.Posted by Jill Fallon at November 8, 2016 2:35 PM | Permalink
About a year ago, she took a job as a nursing assistant. She would help people like Crowley with their meals, medication, grooming — guiding them from bed to wheelchair. The women would exchange pleasantries, but their relationship was chiefly caregiver-patient.
Then, last year, that changed. Through a partnership with Jewish Vocational Services, The Boston Home tried something different. It embraced a new idea that turned Elisabeth Bellabe into a student and restored Beth Crowley’s treasured status as a sterling teacher.
Bellabe provides care. Crowley, twice a week for two hours, provides knowledge. She has worked with Bellabe, polishing her writing skills, imparting the power of literature, guiding her and a handful of other Boston Home caregivers through the labyrinth we call English grammar.
The objective? A high school equivalency diploma. Perhaps a degree in nursing.
“She was a great help to us,’’ Bellabe told me this week, sitting in a bright common room at The Boston Home alongside Crowley. “This is something we have now that is more than, ‘Good morning. Do you need anything?’ This is a real relationship.’’
Yes. It is. And as the two women talked — women who have leaned on and learned from each other — the power of their relationship, and the genuineness of it, were unmistakable.