Folding Your Universe posts

Roderick John Gardner ---> WE'VE TAKEN THE LETTER 'I' OUT OF OUR MARKETING VOCABULARY... ... IT IS NOW ALL ABOUT THE WORD "YOU" AT: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SocialPro/ - United we stand for truth, honesty and teamwork... Click 'See More', as this gets really inte Read more ... resting! You cannot deny the fact; that 98% of ALL people who come online looking to create income are now getting ripped-off as a result of faulty income promises, lack of up-line support, no list or useless "time-consuming" video training that leaves them 'wore out' and left hanging out to dry in the SEA of FAILURE with so many others. The Webs TRUST factor has diminished to darn near ZERO my Friends, simply because there's too darn many marketers thinking about themselves and not about helping YOU achieve success, so I'll ask you again... HAVE YOU REPLACED THE LETTER 'I'? WITH THE WORD 'YOU' IN YOUR MARKETING VOCABULARY? ... Because after all, it's about helping others! Let me DROP a quick 'AH HA' moment on top of you here friends.:) We all know... that our universal laws are very forgiving to those who unconditionally help others, as these laws return a 1000 fold in wealth back to you in return for your efforts, right? In other words, "what comes around, goes around" and the more you help others get what they want, the more success you'll create for yourself, make sense? :) So its very puzzling to us over here at the free social pro revolution team at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SocialPro/... as to why most marketers don't take the time to help others more, so they can REAP their universal rewards... Helping others "unconditionally", takes great EXUBERANCE in your marketing... Heck! Why do you think only 2% of the masses become leaders? If creating wealth was so friggin easy, everyone’s sister would be doing it! Right? >>> Here's your wake-up call and a PERFECT example of how the latest, most innovated, fastest growing business on the web is literally teaching the masses how to REPLACE the "I" in their marketing vocabulary with the word "YOU"... For the first time in internet history, people are literally 'RAVING' about how the average everyday hard-working middle class person can come online and get to know, like, trust, try and... GET REAL MARKETING RESULTS with the New Social Pro Revolution Movement Team before EVER spending one friggin dime of their hard-earned money for ONCE in their life! ** All you have to do is, Be 'TEACHABLE' and INVEST just a few minutes of your time to contact me on Skype using my contact information below. :) You Must Understand... that we use a simple, but very effective "cut-n-dry", no-nonsense approach to common-since marketing and... guess what? It really works for anyone who's DEAD SERIOUS about creating wealth! And it's creating financial stability for thousands of families who need it RIGHT NOW, especially since we are now in the third and final stage of our economies Inflationary period... I can BACKUP every gold-nugget of advice I'm giving you here today friends, with proof of over 300 SUCCESSFUL students in LESS than 6 months who have gotten real marketing results within their very FIRST two weeks using our free personal one-on-one coaching and video training that’s valued at over $1,000.00 without any catches whatsoever. You can get started NOW while others continue to fail miserably on a daily and yearly basis. Yours in helping the "little Guy" create success, Roderick John Gardner ( "Rods Free Coaching" ) Founder of the Social Pro Revolution Movement at: ( https://www.facebook.com/groups/SocialPro/ ) Phone - 07772-064-999 Email - roderickgardner@gmail.com Skype - rodefreecoaching (if you're not familiar with Skype, watch my brief video tutorial at: http://tiny.cc/RodsFreeCoacing then send me a Skype contact request referencing this video so that I know who you are.) Personal freedom ... few have it ... most are slave's to there Jobs ... For those with insight flair & the power to see outside the box Social Pro Revolution future proof your success. Grab yourself a coach .. http://tinyurl.com/n6ea56a Become Friends & Lets Work This Out Together...
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Vivian Sabang
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Hindu history of Afghanistan Afghanistan" comes from "Upa-Gana-stan" Raja Jaya Pal Shahi, Ruler of Punjab bore the brunt of the Islamic Onslaught. The year 980C.E. marks the beginning of the Muslim invasion into India proper when Sabuktagin attacke Read more ... d Raja Jaya Pal in Afghanistan. Afghanistan is today a Muslim country separated from India by another Muslim country Pakistan. But in 980 C.E. Afghanistan was also a place where the people were Hindus and Buddhists. The name "Afghanistan" comes from "Upa-Gana-stan" which means in Sanskrit "The place inhabited by allied tribes". This was the place from where Gandhari of the Mahabharat came from Gandhar whose king was Shakuni. The Pakthoons are descendants of the Paktha tribe mentioned in Vedic literature. Till the year 980 C.E., this area was a Hindu majority area, till Sabuktagin from Ghazni invaded it and displaced the ruling Hindu king - Jaya Pal Shahi. The place where Kabul's main mosque stands today was the site of an ancient Hindu temple and the story of its capture is kept alive in Islamic Afghan legend which describes the Islamic hero Sabuktagin who fought with a sword in every hand to defeat the Hindus and destroy their temple to put up a Mosque in its place. The victory of Sabuktagin pushed the frontiers of the Hindu kingdom of the Shahis from Kabul to behind the Hindu Kush mountains Hindu Kush is literally "killer of Hindus" - a name given by Mahmud Ghazni to describe the number of Hindus who died on their way into Afghanistan to a life of captivity . After this setback, the Shahis shifted their capital from Kubha (Kabul) to Udbhandapura (modern Und in NWFP). Sabuktagin's son Mahmud Ghazni, kept up the attacks on the Shahis and captured Und. Subsequently, the Shahis moved their capital to Lahore and later to Kangra in Himachal. *** The recovery and significance of the inscription, telling a story of the Hindu ruler Veka and his devotion to lord `Siva', was told by leading epigraphist and archaeologist Prof Ahmad Hasan Dani of the Quaid-E-Azam University of Islamabad at the ongoing Indian History Congress here. If historians, preferred to revise the date of the first Hindu Shahi ruler Kallar from 843-850 AD to 821-828 AD, the date of 138 of present inscription, if it refers to the same era, should be equal to 959 AD which falls during the reign of Bhimapala'', Dani said in a paper `Mazar-i Sharif inscription of the time of the Shahi ruler Veka, dated the year 138'', submitted to the Congress. The inscription, with eleven lines written in `western Sarada' style of Sanskrit of 10th century AD, had several spelling mistakes. ``As the stone is slightly broken at the top left corner, the first letter `OM' is missing'', he said. According to the inscription, "the ruler Veka occupied by eight-fold forces, the earth, the markets and the forts. It is during his reign that a temple of Siva in the embrace with Uma was built at Maityasya by Parimaha (great) Maitya for the benefit of himself and his son''. Dani said ``the inscription gives the name of the king as Shahi Veka Raja and bestows on him the qualification of `Iryatumatu Ksanginanka'.... and (he) appears to be the same king who bears the name of Khingila or Khinkhila who should be accepted as a Shahi ruler''. Dani further said ``he may be an ancestor of Veka deva. As his coins are found in Afghanistan and he is mentioned by the Arab ruler Yaqubi, he may be an immediate predecessor of Veka deva...... Both the evidences of inscription and coins suggest that Veka or Vaka should be accepted as an independent ruler of northern Afghanistan. "Thus we find another branch of the Shahi ruler in northern part of Afghanistan beyond the Hindukush. Veka is said to have conquered the earth, the markets and the forts by his eight-fold forces, suggesting that he must have himself gained success against the Arab rulers of southern Afghanistan''. Dani observed that going by the findings it seemed that during the rule of the Hindu Shahi ruler Bhimapala there was a break in the dynasty -- one branch, headed by Jayapala, ruled in Lamaghan and Punjab, and another branch, headed by Veka, ruled in northern part of Afghanistan. "The northern branch must have come to an end by the conquest of Alptigin in the second half of tenth century AD'', he said. (source: Inscription throws new light to Hindu rule in Afghanistan - indianexpress.com) India has developed a highly constructive, imaginative reconstruction strategy for Afghanistan that is designed to please every sector of Afghan society, give India a high profile with the Afghan people, gain the maximum political advantage with the Afghan government, increase its influence with its Northern Alliance friends and turn its image from that of a country that supported the Soviet invasion and the communist regime in the 1980s to an indispensable ally and friend of the Afghan people in the new century. (Source: Hinduism (The forgotten facts)') — with Vivek Gaur and 49 others.
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Lindsey Jobe Elam
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This picture was taken 10 days apart. I cannot tell you how important this is in so many ways. Please read below and discuss this with your teenagers. Love, Jo Ann Veronica Eckhardt bent over the hospital bed, sponging paint onto the sole of her son Read more ... 's left foot. "Connor would not like what we're doing," she remarked, but his foot did not twitch. Doctors had declared Connor Eckhardt brain-dead the day before, at age 19. Machines breathed for him in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit at Hoag Hospital. Veronica's husband, Devin, held his son's leg steady as she continued to apply a mixture of brown and blue, Connor's favorite colors. Their son's decision to donate his organs had allowed the couple extra time at his bedside. Tests needed to be run. Appropriate organ recipients had to be identified. On the day of his surgery, Veronica had been thinking of footprints they made when Connor was little. She wanted to make another set, so her mother and father-in-law went to buy supplies at Michaels. These painted prints would commemorate his end. "Although his footprints will no longer be walking on the earth, his imprints will still be there in so many peoples' lives," she said. The clock ticked past 2 p.m. Connor's organs were scheduled to be removed in two hours. * Synthetic drug is hard to trace The previous Saturday, an otherwise healthy Connor had smoked "spice" — a substance made from plants treated with chemicals that bind to the brain's cannabinoid receptors. The synthetic pot is thought of as a legal, untraceable way to get high, but the effect can be orders of magnitude more powerful than marijuana, said Dr. Michael Brant-Zawadzki, executive medical director of Hoag's neurosciences institute. Also called "K2," spice can overwhelm brain circuitry, possibly leading to psychosis, kidney injury, high body temperature, heart attack or, as in Connor's case, death. Concentrations of chemicals in spice vary, as do the chemicals themselves, making it difficult for users to know what they are smoking and how it might alter their brains. "There's no way to tell when you cross the line from the expected effects to the lethal effects," Brant-Zawadzki said. Whether because he stopped breathing or his heart stopped pumping blood, or both, Connor's brain was deprived of oxygen and began to swell. Tests run at the hospital would not detect spice. The ever-changing components make it difficult for scientists to develop a standard way to trace it. But the hospital found no sign of other drugs. And he had the small, square packet of spice still in his pocket. Legislators and law enforcement have trouble keeping up with spice too, since manufacturers simply change one part of the banned components to make it legal again. In California, there is no punishment for possessing spice, Newport Beach Police Officer Bill Hume said. The drug is often labeled "not for human consumption," and marketed as potpourri or incense. But many believe it is safe to smoke since it was once easily found at gas stations and head shops. "People see it as something you can buy over the counter," said Hume, a drug recognition expert for the department. "They have the false pretense that this is something that is safe." In reality "any synthetic cannabinoid compound, or any synthetic cannabinoid derivative" is now illegal to sell in California — a misdemeanor punishable under the state's health and safety code by up to six months in county jail and a $1,000 fine — but shops still offer it under code names, Hume said, and its reputation as "legal" persists. Connor had used other substances commonly believed to be much more dangerous, and his parents are certain he did not know spice would kill him. Instead, they think he succumbed to peer pressure and unknowingly made a fatal choice. "Connor did not want to die," his mother says. "Connor very much wanted to live. He had everything to live for." Veronica painted the bottom of his opposite foot. Both extremities were pressed against white paper. The nurse held up the result. "Oh, that's perfect," Veronica said, rushing to take hold of the print. * His golden skin radiated Family and friends had gathered in the gray, window-lit room for the last hours before surgery would begin. They filled the small space and spoke in low voices above the humming medical machinery. The comatose body before them hardly resembled the charismatic teen he had been. Usually, Connor animated a room. Quick to get to know strangers, he was the type who many considered their best friend. He was passionate, tender-hearted and loved deeply, his father would recall during a memorial service that weekend. He was athletic. His golden skin, which radiated in contrast with the mint green hospital gown he wore, and the calluses on his feet hinted at a teen who loved surfing, snowboarding, wake boarding and skateboarding. Failure had never given Connor pause. He lived life "all-in," according to his dad. He tried new sports until he mastered them, placing in a surf contest in Hawaii just days after he learned to stand on a board. Now he rested on a bed angled slightly upward, with his arms and legs propped on pillows. His head leaned toward a teddy bear nestled above his right shoulder, which his youngest sister now sleeps with every night. * 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus' At nearly 2:20 p.m., Veronica and Devin embraced at their son's side, exhausted and overcome with emotion. Music streamed from an iPhone. What can wash away our sin? What can make us whole again? Raised by a family strong in its Christian faith, Connor once knew such lyrics by heart. His father, president of an insurance management services group, also had a background in vocational ministry. In middle school, Connor taught himself to play the guitar. He later helped with worship services at Master's Ranch, a Christian boarding school in Missouri for troubled boys, which Connor attended at age 15 to help him work through emotions stemming from the knowledge that he was adopted. Connor inspired many others to pick up the instrument there and helped them to learn how to play, the Ranch's pastor, David Bosley, said. Connor enrolled in Liberty University in Virginia to become worship leader after high school, but hadn't yet completed the program. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Veronica sat in a chair next to her son, leaning her forehead on the bed. "What time is it?" she asked, looking up to find the answer. "So we only have an hour and 40 minutes with him?" Her lower lip curled down. Her right hand rested on Connor's left. The minutes ticked on. "I just keep thinking he's going to open his eyes and go, 'What's up guys?'" she said aloud. Folding over the bedside, she buried her head in his chest and cried. * A few hours spent in Puerto Rico When Connor decided to become an organ donor, his parents never imagined it would allow them four extra days with their son. Connor took a hit of spice with a friend on a Saturday night in Orange County. He later fell asleep. At midnight, the rest of his family, who live near Sacramento, landed in Puerto Rico for what they thought would be a two-week vacation. But they learned several hours later that Connor was in a Santa Ana hospital and were back at the airport soon after. Connor was transferred to Hoag overnight. When the Eckhardts arrived at his bedside midday Monday, his brain was swollen, and he was already in a coma. But they could take pictures. They could try to internalize his smell, which photos could never capture. They could talk to him, trace the muscles in his arms, run their fingers through his hair. And they could pray over him, laying hands on him, trying to let him go. "Father, we are so privileged to know and love and laugh with Connor," began a family friend, Chris Walsh, as the afternoon pushed on Thursday, July 17, before doctors would wheel Connor's body away. He continued, "I pray now for those who are in the same mess he was in just a year ago … I love this boy." * Getting clean in the desert Eight months earlier, a rehabilitation program in Palm Springs had helped Connor to get clean from drugs like heroin. He had stayed sober ever since. Mindy Hunt, 24, who met Connor in the program, recalled long hours they had spent discussing the struggle of abstaining. "No matter what was going on, what happened, he could get something good out of it," Hunt said during a time of open sharing at his memorial. "He could get something good out of any situation." Hunt had smoked spice once; it made her heart beat so fast that she couldn't stand up. Most recently, Connor had been living at a sober home in San Clemente. He excelled in his work at a Valvoline oil change service center, was committed to sobriety and had begun planning for his future. "I could see it in his eyes that he had strength," Emily Quezada, 26, who met him through the recovery program there, offered during the service. Quezada had never heard of spice, but begged, "We can't let CJ's death repeat itself. We can't let CJ die in vain..." * Biological mother suffered from addiction As the family's bedside prayer continued Thursday, the nurse entered to drape a blanket on Connor, then retreated. Veronica now began to speak: "Connor, I'm your mama, will always be your mama, and there is nothing that can take that away." Connor, or "CJ," as he was nicknamed, was adopted by the Eckhardts the day he was born, Oct. 19, 1994. "I knew I would do anything for him," Devin shared at the memorial, before draping a lei on the casket, a sign of respect in accordance with Hawaiian tradition. "It was an amazing experience. At that moment, I fully and completely loved him." Connor's two siblings were also adopted. Still, he wrestled with rejection, fear and abandonment, suffering from a "hole in his heart," as his mother described it. A propensity toward addiction also emerged in their son, whose biological mother apparently had not remained sober during pregnancy. Veronica and Devin tried to be open with him, but when he embarked at age 18 on locating his birth parents, the process threw him head-first into drugs that seemed more likely to kill him than what ultimately did. "Dad and I are going to fight what took life away too young," his mother vowed in the hospital room at Hoag. At 3 p.m. his sister Sabrina, just one year younger than Connor, sat in chair close to her brother. Five-year-old Ashnika, their third sibling, adopted from Ethiopia, had discovered the Purell dispenser. Her white sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she moved from person to person, smothering the sanitizer on their hands. At 3:15 p.m., Devin scooped up the energetic child in her bright green dress, telling her, "I need a hug from you." Soon, she would be giving Connor a kiss goodbye. The other relatives began to gather their belongings. His maternal grandparents bid farewell, stroking his head, then his aunt and uncle, who took Ashnika from the room, spent one last moment with their nephew. A nurse announced the helicopters that would take away Connor's organs would be landing in 15 minutes. The room cleared out, but Ashnika and her aunt returned. The 5-year-old had forgotten to tell her big brother something. Her aunt held her close to his head. "I love you Connor," she said. * Cautionary tale placed on video In their last minutes with their son, Connor's mom, dad, sister and close friend filmed a video about the danger of spice. "This is our son, Connor Reid Echhardt," Veronica began, speaking in a strained voice. She continued, "He made the deadly choice to use a product called K2, or spice, and Connor is completely brain dead. [...] This is not a game, it is totally real, please help us fight his fight." After the family took a moment for a private goodbye, a "transport team" moved Connor from the ICU, through the hospital's hallways operating room. His family followed in close procession, right up to the operating room doors. That was as far as they were allowed to go, telling him one last time that they loved him, before his heart, liver, kidneys, and pancreas would be removed. Then it would be up to the surgical teams, which usually arrive separately by helicopter for each organ donated. That way, a donor's gifts can be rushed away as soon as possible, often packed in a cooler with a cold, saline slush. As the first group prepared for their work, a prayer from the family would be read. It began: "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us Connor for 19 years. He is the most amazing person. He has left his imprint on the lives of so many people. He loved you with all his heart." Hours later, around 8 p.m., a helicopter departed with that very organ. emily.foxhall@latimes.com
2 minutes ago
Victoria Lehman Haugen A must read for all parents and mentors for young adults. : (
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This picture was taken 10 days apart. I cannot tell you how important this is in so many ways. Please read below and discuss this with your teenagers. Love, Jo Ann Veronica Eckhardt bent over the hospital bed, sponging paint onto the sole of her son Read more ... 's left foot. "Connor would not like what we're doing," she remarked, but his foot did not twitch. Doctors had declared Connor Eckhardt brain-dead the day before, at age 19. Machines breathed for him in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit at Hoag Hospital. Veronica's husband, Devin, held his son's leg steady as she continued to apply a mixture of brown and blue, Connor's favorite colors. Their son's decision to donate his organs had allowed the couple extra time at his bedside. Tests needed to be run. Appropriate organ recipients had to be identified. On the day of his surgery, Veronica had been thinking of footprints they made when Connor was little. She wanted to make another set, so her mother and father-in-law went to buy supplies at Michaels. These painted prints would commemorate his end. "Although his footprints will no longer be walking on the earth, his imprints will still be there in so many peoples' lives," she said. The clock ticked past 2 p.m. Connor's organs were scheduled to be removed in two hours. * Synthetic drug is hard to trace The previous Saturday, an otherwise healthy Connor had smoked "spice" — a substance made from plants treated with chemicals that bind to the brain's cannabinoid receptors. The synthetic pot is thought of as a legal, untraceable way to get high, but the effect can be orders of magnitude more powerful than marijuana, said Dr. Michael Brant-Zawadzki, executive medical director of Hoag's neurosciences institute. Also called "K2," spice can overwhelm brain circuitry, possibly leading to psychosis, kidney injury, high body temperature, heart attack or, as in Connor's case, death. Concentrations of chemicals in spice vary, as do the chemicals themselves, making it difficult for users to know what they are smoking and how it might alter their brains. "There's no way to tell when you cross the line from the expected effects to the lethal effects," Brant-Zawadzki said. Whether because he stopped breathing or his heart stopped pumping blood, or both, Connor's brain was deprived of oxygen and began to swell. Tests run at the hospital would not detect spice. The ever-changing components make it difficult for scientists to develop a standard way to trace it. But the hospital found no sign of other drugs. And he had the small, square packet of spice still in his pocket. Legislators and law enforcement have trouble keeping up with spice too, since manufacturers simply change one part of the banned components to make it legal again. In California, there is no punishment for possessing spice, Newport Beach Police Officer Bill Hume said. The drug is often labeled "not for human consumption," and marketed as potpourri or incense. But many believe it is safe to smoke since it was once easily found at gas stations and head shops. "People see it as something you can buy over the counter," said Hume, a drug recognition expert for the department. "They have the false pretense that this is something that is safe." In reality "any synthetic cannabinoid compound, or any synthetic cannabinoid derivative" is now illegal to sell in California — a misdemeanor punishable under the state's health and safety code by up to six months in county jail and a $1,000 fine — but shops still offer it under code names, Hume said, and its reputation as "legal" persists. Connor had used other substances commonly believed to be much more dangerous, and his parents are certain he did not know spice would kill him. Instead, they think he succumbed to peer pressure and unknowingly made a fatal choice. "Connor did not want to die," his mother says. "Connor very much wanted to live. He had everything to live for." Veronica painted the bottom of his opposite foot. Both extremities were pressed against white paper. The nurse held up the result. "Oh, that's perfect," Veronica said, rushing to take hold of the print. * His golden skin radiated Family and friends had gathered in the gray, window-lit room for the last hours before surgery would begin. They filled the small space and spoke in low voices above the humming medical machinery. The comatose body before them hardly resembled the charismatic teen he had been. Usually, Connor animated a room. Quick to get to know strangers, he was the type who many considered their best friend. He was passionate, tender-hearted and loved deeply, his father would recall during a memorial service that weekend. He was athletic. His golden skin, which radiated in contrast with the mint green hospital gown he wore, and the calluses on his feet hinted at a teen who loved surfing, snowboarding, wake boarding and skateboarding. Failure had never given Connor pause. He lived life "all-in," according to his dad. He tried new sports until he mastered them, placing in a surf contest in Hawaii just days after he learned to stand on a board. Now he rested on a bed angled slightly upward, with his arms and legs propped on pillows. His head leaned toward a teddy bear nestled above his right shoulder, which his youngest sister now sleeps with every night. * 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus' At nearly 2:20 p.m., Veronica and Devin embraced at their son's side, exhausted and overcome with emotion. Music streamed from an iPhone. What can wash away our sin? What can make us whole again? Raised by a family strong in its Christian faith, Connor once knew such lyrics by heart. His father, president of an insurance management services group, also had a background in vocational ministry. In middle school, Connor taught himself to play the guitar. He later helped with worship services at Master's Ranch, a Christian boarding school in Missouri for troubled boys, which Connor attended at age 15 to help him work through emotions stemming from the knowledge that he was adopted. Connor inspired many others to pick up the instrument there and helped them to learn how to play, the Ranch's pastor, David Bosley, said. Connor enrolled in Liberty University in Virginia to become worship leader after high school, but hadn't yet completed the program. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Veronica sat in a chair next to her son, leaning her forehead on the bed. "What time is it?" she asked, looking up to find the answer. "So we only have an hour and 40 minutes with him?" Her lower lip curled down. Her right hand rested on Connor's left. The minutes ticked on. "I just keep thinking he's going to open his eyes and go, 'What's up guys?'" she said aloud. Folding over the bedside, she buried her head in his chest and cried. * A few hours spent in Puerto Rico When Connor decided to become an organ donor, his parents never imagined it would allow them four extra days with their son. Connor took a hit of spice with a friend on a Saturday night in Orange County. He later fell asleep. At midnight, the rest of his family, who live near Sacramento, landed in Puerto Rico for what they thought would be a two-week vacation. But they learned several hours later that Connor was in a Santa Ana hospital and were back at the airport soon after. Connor was transferred to Hoag overnight. When the Eckhardts arrived at his bedside midday Monday, his brain was swollen, and he was already in a coma. But they could take pictures. They could try to internalize his smell, which photos could never capture. They could talk to him, trace the muscles in his arms, run their fingers through his hair. And they could pray over him, laying hands on him, trying to let him go. "Father, we are so privileged to know and love and laugh with Connor," began a family friend, Chris Walsh, as the afternoon pushed on Thursday, July 17, before doctors would wheel Connor's body away. He continued, "I pray now for those who are in the same mess he was in just a year ago … I love this boy." * Getting clean in the desert Eight months earlier, a rehabilitation program in Palm Springs had helped Connor to get clean from drugs like heroin. He had stayed sober ever since. Mindy Hunt, 24, who met Connor in the program, recalled long hours they had spent discussing the struggle of abstaining. "No matter what was going on, what happened, he could get something good out of it," Hunt said during a time of open sharing at his memorial. "He could get something good out of any situation." Hunt had smoked spice once; it made her heart beat so fast that she couldn't stand up. Most recently, Connor had been living at a sober home in San Clemente. He excelled in his work at a Valvoline oil change service center, was committed to sobriety and had begun planning for his future. "I could see it in his eyes that he had strength," Emily Quezada, 26, who met him through the recovery program there, offered during the service. Quezada had never heard of spice, but begged, "We can't let CJ's death repeat itself. We can't let CJ die in vain..." * Biological mother suffered from addiction As the family's bedside prayer continued Thursday, the nurse entered to drape a blanket on Connor, then retreated. Veronica now began to speak: "Connor, I'm your mama, will always be your mama, and there is nothing that can take that away." Connor, or "CJ," as he was nicknamed, was adopted by the Eckhardts the day he was born, Oct. 19, 1994. "I knew I would do anything for him," Devin shared at the memorial, before draping a lei on the casket, a sign of respect in accordance with Hawaiian tradition. "It was an amazing experience. At that moment, I fully and completely loved him." Connor's two siblings were also adopted. Still, he wrestled with rejection, fear and abandonment, suffering from a "hole in his heart," as his mother described it. A propensity toward addiction also emerged in their son, whose biological mother apparently had not remained sober during pregnancy. Veronica and Devin tried to be open with him, but when he embarked at age 18 on locating his birth parents, the process threw him head-first into drugs that seemed more likely to kill him than what ultimately did. "Dad and I are going to fight what took life away too young," his mother vowed in the hospital room at Hoag. At 3 p.m. his sister Sabrina, just one year younger than Connor, sat in chair close to her brother. Five-year-old Ashnika, their third sibling, adopted from Ethiopia, had discovered the Purell dispenser. Her white sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she moved from person to person, smothering the sanitizer on their hands. At 3:15 p.m., Devin scooped up the energetic child in her bright green dress, telling her, "I need a hug from you." Soon, she would be giving Connor a kiss goodbye. The other relatives began to gather their belongings. His maternal grandparents bid farewell, stroking his head, then his aunt and uncle, who took Ashnika from the room, spent one last moment with their nephew. A nurse announced the helicopters that would take away Connor's organs would be landing in 15 minutes. The room cleared out, but Ashnika and her aunt returned. The 5-year-old had forgotten to tell her big brother something. Her aunt held her close to his head. "I love you Connor," she said. * Cautionary tale placed on video In their last minutes with their son, Connor's mom, dad, sister and close friend filmed a video about the danger of spice. "This is our son, Connor Reid Echhardt," Veronica began, speaking in a strained voice. She continued, "He made the deadly choice to use a product called K2, or spice, and Connor is completely brain dead. [...] This is not a game, it is totally real, please help us fight his fight." After the family took a moment for a private goodbye, a "transport team" moved Connor from the ICU, through the hospital's hallways operating room. His family followed in close procession, right up to the operating room doors. That was as far as they were allowed to go, telling him one last time that they loved him, before his heart, liver, kidneys, and pancreas would be removed. Then it would be up to the surgical teams, which usually arrive separately by helicopter for each organ donated. That way, a donor's gifts can be rushed away as soon as possible, often packed in a cooler with a cold, saline slush. As the first group prepared for their work, a prayer from the family would be read. It began: "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us Connor for 19 years. He is the most amazing person. He has left his imprint on the lives of so many people. He loved you with all his heart." Hours later, around 8 p.m., a helicopter departed with that very organ. emily.foxhall@latimes.com
4 minutes ago
Tonya Woodworth
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This picture was taken 10 days apart. I cannot tell you how important this is in so many ways. Please read below and discuss this with your teenagers. Love, Jo Ann Veronica Eckhardt bent over the hospital bed, sponging paint onto the sole of her son Read more ... 's left foot. "Connor would not like what we're doing," she remarked, but his foot did not twitch. Doctors had declared Connor Eckhardt brain-dead the day before, at age 19. Machines breathed for him in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit at Hoag Hospital. Veronica's husband, Devin, held his son's leg steady as she continued to apply a mixture of brown and blue, Connor's favorite colors. Their son's decision to donate his organs had allowed the couple extra time at his bedside. Tests needed to be run. Appropriate organ recipients had to be identified. On the day of his surgery, Veronica had been thinking of footprints they made when Connor was little. She wanted to make another set, so her mother and father-in-law went to buy supplies at Michaels. These painted prints would commemorate his end. "Although his footprints will no longer be walking on the earth, his imprints will still be there in so many peoples' lives," she said. The clock ticked past 2 p.m. Connor's organs were scheduled to be removed in two hours. * Synthetic drug is hard to trace The previous Saturday, an otherwise healthy Connor had smoked "spice" — a substance made from plants treated with chemicals that bind to the brain's cannabinoid receptors. The synthetic pot is thought of as a legal, untraceable way to get high, but the effect can be orders of magnitude more powerful than marijuana, said Dr. Michael Brant-Zawadzki, executive medical director of Hoag's neurosciences institute. Also called "K2," spice can overwhelm brain circuitry, possibly leading to psychosis, kidney injury, high body temperature, heart attack or, as in Connor's case, death. Concentrations of chemicals in spice vary, as do the chemicals themselves, making it difficult for users to know what they are smoking and how it might alter their brains. "There's no way to tell when you cross the line from the expected effects to the lethal effects," Brant-Zawadzki said. Whether because he stopped breathing or his heart stopped pumping blood, or both, Connor's brain was deprived of oxygen and began to swell. Tests run at the hospital would not detect spice. The ever-changing components make it difficult for scientists to develop a standard way to trace it. But the hospital found no sign of other drugs. And he had the small, square packet of spice still in his pocket. Legislators and law enforcement have trouble keeping up with spice too, since manufacturers simply change one part of the banned components to make it legal again. In California, there is no punishment for possessing spice, Newport Beach Police Officer Bill Hume said. The drug is often labeled "not for human consumption," and marketed as potpourri or incense. But many believe it is safe to smoke since it was once easily found at gas stations and head shops. "People see it as something you can buy over the counter," said Hume, a drug recognition expert for the department. "They have the false pretense that this is something that is safe." In reality "any synthetic cannabinoid compound, or any synthetic cannabinoid derivative" is now illegal to sell in California — a misdemeanor punishable under the state's health and safety code by up to six months in county jail and a $1,000 fine — but shops still offer it under code names, Hume said, and its reputation as "legal" persists. Connor had used other substances commonly believed to be much more dangerous, and his parents are certain he did not know spice would kill him. Instead, they think he succumbed to peer pressure and unknowingly made a fatal choice. "Connor did not want to die," his mother says. "Connor very much wanted to live. He had everything to live for." Veronica painted the bottom of his opposite foot. Both extremities were pressed against white paper. The nurse held up the result. "Oh, that's perfect," Veronica said, rushing to take hold of the print. * His golden skin radiated Family and friends had gathered in the gray, window-lit room for the last hours before surgery would begin. They filled the small space and spoke in low voices above the humming medical machinery. The comatose body before them hardly resembled the charismatic teen he had been. Usually, Connor animated a room. Quick to get to know strangers, he was the type who many considered their best friend. He was passionate, tender-hearted and loved deeply, his father would recall during a memorial service that weekend. He was athletic. His golden skin, which radiated in contrast with the mint green hospital gown he wore, and the calluses on his feet hinted at a teen who loved surfing, snowboarding, wake boarding and skateboarding. Failure had never given Connor pause. He lived life "all-in," according to his dad. He tried new sports until he mastered them, placing in a surf contest in Hawaii just days after he learned to stand on a board. Now he rested on a bed angled slightly upward, with his arms and legs propped on pillows. His head leaned toward a teddy bear nestled above his right shoulder, which his youngest sister now sleeps with every night. * 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus' At nearly 2:20 p.m., Veronica and Devin embraced at their son's side, exhausted and overcome with emotion. Music streamed from an iPhone. What can wash away our sin? What can make us whole again? Raised by a family strong in its Christian faith, Connor once knew such lyrics by heart. His father, president of an insurance management services group, also had a background in vocational ministry. In middle school, Connor taught himself to play the guitar. He later helped with worship services at Master's Ranch, a Christian boarding school in Missouri for troubled boys, which Connor attended at age 15 to help him work through emotions stemming from the knowledge that he was adopted. Connor inspired many others to pick up the instrument there and helped them to learn how to play, the Ranch's pastor, David Bosley, said. Connor enrolled in Liberty University in Virginia to become worship leader after high school, but hadn't yet completed the program. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Veronica sat in a chair next to her son, leaning her forehead on the bed. "What time is it?" she asked, looking up to find the answer. "So we only have an hour and 40 minutes with him?" Her lower lip curled down. Her right hand rested on Connor's left. The minutes ticked on. "I just keep thinking he's going to open his eyes and go, 'What's up guys?'" she said aloud. Folding over the bedside, she buried her head in his chest and cried. * A few hours spent in Puerto Rico When Connor decided to become an organ donor, his parents never imagined it would allow them four extra days with their son. Connor took a hit of spice with a friend on a Saturday night in Orange County. He later fell asleep. At midnight, the rest of his family, who live near Sacramento, landed in Puerto Rico for what they thought would be a two-week vacation. But they learned several hours later that Connor was in a Santa Ana hospital and were back at the airport soon after. Connor was transferred to Hoag overnight. When the Eckhardts arrived at his bedside midday Monday, his brain was swollen, and he was already in a coma. But they could take pictures. They could try to internalize his smell, which photos could never capture. They could talk to him, trace the muscles in his arms, run their fingers through his hair. And they could pray over him, laying hands on him, trying to let him go. "Father, we are so privileged to know and love and laugh with Connor," began a family friend, Chris Walsh, as the afternoon pushed on Thursday, July 17, before doctors would wheel Connor's body away. He continued, "I pray now for those who are in the same mess he was in just a year ago … I love this boy." * Getting clean in the desert Eight months earlier, a rehabilitation program in Palm Springs had helped Connor to get clean from drugs like heroin. He had stayed sober ever since. Mindy Hunt, 24, who met Connor in the program, recalled long hours they had spent discussing the struggle of abstaining. "No matter what was going on, what happened, he could get something good out of it," Hunt said during a time of open sharing at his memorial. "He could get something good out of any situation." Hunt had smoked spice once; it made her heart beat so fast that she couldn't stand up. Most recently, Connor had been living at a sober home in San Clemente. He excelled in his work at a Valvoline oil change service center, was committed to sobriety and had begun planning for his future. "I could see it in his eyes that he had strength," Emily Quezada, 26, who met him through the recovery program there, offered during the service. Quezada had never heard of spice, but begged, "We can't let CJ's death repeat itself. We can't let CJ die in vain..." * Biological mother suffered from addiction As the family's bedside prayer continued Thursday, the nurse entered to drape a blanket on Connor, then retreated. Veronica now began to speak: "Connor, I'm your mama, will always be your mama, and there is nothing that can take that away." Connor, or "CJ," as he was nicknamed, was adopted by the Eckhardts the day he was born, Oct. 19, 1994. "I knew I would do anything for him," Devin shared at the memorial, before draping a lei on the casket, a sign of respect in accordance with Hawaiian tradition. "It was an amazing experience. At that moment, I fully and completely loved him." Connor's two siblings were also adopted. Still, he wrestled with rejection, fear and abandonment, suffering from a "hole in his heart," as his mother described it. A propensity toward addiction also emerged in their son, whose biological mother apparently had not remained sober during pregnancy. Veronica and Devin tried to be open with him, but when he embarked at age 18 on locating his birth parents, the process threw him head-first into drugs that seemed more likely to kill him than what ultimately did. "Dad and I are going to fight what took life away too young," his mother vowed in the hospital room at Hoag. At 3 p.m. his sister Sabrina, just one year younger than Connor, sat in chair close to her brother. Five-year-old Ashnika, their third sibling, adopted from Ethiopia, had discovered the Purell dispenser. Her white sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she moved from person to person, smothering the sanitizer on their hands. At 3:15 p.m., Devin scooped up the energetic child in her bright green dress, telling her, "I need a hug from you." Soon, she would be giving Connor a kiss goodbye. The other relatives began to gather their belongings. His maternal grandparents bid farewell, stroking his head, then his aunt and uncle, who took Ashnika from the room, spent one last moment with their nephew. A nurse announced the helicopters that would take away Connor's organs would be landing in 15 minutes. The room cleared out, but Ashnika and her aunt returned. The 5-year-old had forgotten to tell her big brother something. Her aunt held her close to his head. "I love you Connor," she said. * Cautionary tale placed on video In their last minutes with their son, Connor's mom, dad, sister and close friend filmed a video about the danger of spice. "This is our son, Connor Reid Echhardt," Veronica began, speaking in a strained voice. She continued, "He made the deadly choice to use a product called K2, or spice, and Connor is completely brain dead. [...] This is not a game, it is totally real, please help us fight his fight." After the family took a moment for a private goodbye, a "transport team" moved Connor from the ICU, through the hospital's hallways operating room. His family followed in close procession, right up to the operating room doors. That was as far as they were allowed to go, telling him one last time that they loved him, before his heart, liver, kidneys, and pancreas would be removed. Then it would be up to the surgical teams, which usually arrive separately by helicopter for each organ donated. That way, a donor's gifts can be rushed away as soon as possible, often packed in a cooler with a cold, saline slush. As the first group prepared for their work, a prayer from the family would be read. It began: "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us Connor for 19 years. He is the most amazing person. He has left his imprint on the lives of so many people. He loved you with all his heart." Hours later, around 8 p.m., a helicopter departed with that very organ. emily.foxhall@latimes.com
5 minutes ago
Tony Benito
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This picture was taken 10 days apart. I cannot tell you how important this is in so many ways. Please read below and discuss this with your teenagers. Love, Jo Ann Veronica Eckhardt bent over the hospital bed, sponging paint onto the sole of her son Read more ... 's left foot. "Connor would not like what we're doing," she remarked, but his foot did not twitch. Doctors had declared Connor Eckhardt brain-dead the day before, at age 19. Machines breathed for him in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit at Hoag Hospital. Veronica's husband, Devin, held his son's leg steady as she continued to apply a mixture of brown and blue, Connor's favorite colors. Their son's decision to donate his organs had allowed the couple extra time at his bedside. Tests needed to be run. Appropriate organ recipients had to be identified. On the day of his surgery, Veronica had been thinking of footprints they made when Connor was little. She wanted to make another set, so her mother and father-in-law went to buy supplies at Michaels. These painted prints would commemorate his end. "Although his footprints will no longer be walking on the earth, his imprints will still be there in so many peoples' lives," she said. The clock ticked past 2 p.m. Connor's organs were scheduled to be removed in two hours. * Synthetic drug is hard to trace The previous Saturday, an otherwise healthy Connor had smoked "spice" — a substance made from plants treated with chemicals that bind to the brain's cannabinoid receptors. The synthetic pot is thought of as a legal, untraceable way to get high, but the effect can be orders of magnitude more powerful than marijuana, said Dr. Michael Brant-Zawadzki, executive medical director of Hoag's neurosciences institute. Also called "K2," spice can overwhelm brain circuitry, possibly leading to psychosis, kidney injury, high body temperature, heart attack or, as in Connor's case, death. Concentrations of chemicals in spice vary, as do the chemicals themselves, making it difficult for users to know what they are smoking and how it might alter their brains. "There's no way to tell when you cross the line from the expected effects to the lethal effects," Brant-Zawadzki said. Whether because he stopped breathing or his heart stopped pumping blood, or both, Connor's brain was deprived of oxygen and began to swell. Tests run at the hospital would not detect spice. The ever-changing components make it difficult for scientists to develop a standard way to trace it. But the hospital found no sign of other drugs. And he had the small, square packet of spice still in his pocket. Legislators and law enforcement have trouble keeping up with spice too, since manufacturers simply change one part of the banned components to make it legal again. In California, there is no punishment for possessing spice, Newport Beach Police Officer Bill Hume said. The drug is often labeled "not for human consumption," and marketed as potpourri or incense. But many believe it is safe to smoke since it was once easily found at gas stations and head shops. "People see it as something you can buy over the counter," said Hume, a drug recognition expert for the department. "They have the false pretense that this is something that is safe." In reality "any synthetic cannabinoid compound, or any synthetic cannabinoid derivative" is now illegal to sell in California — a misdemeanor punishable under the state's health and safety code by up to six months in county jail and a $1,000 fine — but shops still offer it under code names, Hume said, and its reputation as "legal" persists. Connor had used other substances commonly believed to be much more dangerous, and his parents are certain he did not know spice would kill him. Instead, they think he succumbed to peer pressure and unknowingly made a fatal choice. "Connor did not want to die," his mother says. "Connor very much wanted to live. He had everything to live for." Veronica painted the bottom of his opposite foot. Both extremities were pressed against white paper. The nurse held up the result. "Oh, that's perfect," Veronica said, rushing to take hold of the print. * His golden skin radiated Family and friends had gathered in the gray, window-lit room for the last hours before surgery would begin. They filled the small space and spoke in low voices above the humming medical machinery. The comatose body before them hardly resembled the charismatic teen he had been. Usually, Connor animated a room. Quick to get to know strangers, he was the type who many considered their best friend. He was passionate, tender-hearted and loved deeply, his father would recall during a memorial service that weekend. He was athletic. His golden skin, which radiated in contrast with the mint green hospital gown he wore, and the calluses on his feet hinted at a teen who loved surfing, snowboarding, wake boarding and skateboarding. Failure had never given Connor pause. He lived life "all-in," according to his dad. He tried new sports until he mastered them, placing in a surf contest in Hawaii just days after he learned to stand on a board. Now he rested on a bed angled slightly upward, with his arms and legs propped on pillows. His head leaned toward a teddy bear nestled above his right shoulder, which his youngest sister now sleeps with every night. * 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus' At nearly 2:20 p.m., Veronica and Devin embraced at their son's side, exhausted and overcome with emotion. Music streamed from an iPhone. What can wash away our sin? What can make us whole again? Raised by a family strong in its Christian faith, Connor once knew such lyrics by heart. His father, president of an insurance management services group, also had a background in vocational ministry. In middle school, Connor taught himself to play the guitar. He later helped with worship services at Master's Ranch, a Christian boarding school in Missouri for troubled boys, which Connor attended at age 15 to help him work through emotions stemming from the knowledge that he was adopted. Connor inspired many others to pick up the instrument there and helped them to learn how to play, the Ranch's pastor, David Bosley, said. Connor enrolled in Liberty University in Virginia to become worship leader after high school, but hadn't yet completed the program. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Veronica sat in a chair next to her son, leaning her forehead on the bed. "What time is it?" she asked, looking up to find the answer. "So we only have an hour and 40 minutes with him?" Her lower lip curled down. Her right hand rested on Connor's left. The minutes ticked on. "I just keep thinking he's going to open his eyes and go, 'What's up guys?'" she said aloud. Folding over the bedside, she buried her head in his chest and cried. * A few hours spent in Puerto Rico When Connor decided to become an organ donor, his parents never imagined it would allow them four extra days with their son. Connor took a hit of spice with a friend on a Saturday night in Orange County. He later fell asleep. At midnight, the rest of his family, who live near Sacramento, landed in Puerto Rico for what they thought would be a two-week vacation. But they learned several hours later that Connor was in a Santa Ana hospital and were back at the airport soon after. Connor was transferred to Hoag overnight. When the Eckhardts arrived at his bedside midday Monday, his brain was swollen, and he was already in a coma. But they could take pictures. They could try to internalize his smell, which photos could never capture. They could talk to him, trace the muscles in his arms, run their fingers through his hair. And they could pray over him, laying hands on him, trying to let him go. "Father, we are so privileged to know and love and laugh with Connor," began a family friend, Chris Walsh, as the afternoon pushed on Thursday, July 17, before doctors would wheel Connor's body away. He continued, "I pray now for those who are in the same mess he was in just a year ago … I love this boy." * Getting clean in the desert Eight months earlier, a rehabilitation program in Palm Springs had helped Connor to get clean from drugs like heroin. He had stayed sober ever since. Mindy Hunt, 24, who met Connor in the program, recalled long hours they had spent discussing the struggle of abstaining. "No matter what was going on, what happened, he could get something good out of it," Hunt said during a time of open sharing at his memorial. "He could get something good out of any situation." Hunt had smoked spice once; it made her heart beat so fast that she couldn't stand up. Most recently, Connor had been living at a sober home in San Clemente. He excelled in his work at a Valvoline oil change service center, was committed to sobriety and had begun planning for his future. "I could see it in his eyes that he had strength," Emily Quezada, 26, who met him through the recovery program there, offered during the service. Quezada had never heard of spice, but begged, "We can't let CJ's death repeat itself. We can't let CJ die in vain..." * Biological mother suffered from addiction As the family's bedside prayer continued Thursday, the nurse entered to drape a blanket on Connor, then retreated. Veronica now began to speak: "Connor, I'm your mama, will always be your mama, and there is nothing that can take that away." Connor, or "CJ," as he was nicknamed, was adopted by the Eckhardts the day he was born, Oct. 19, 1994. "I knew I would do anything for him," Devin shared at the memorial, before draping a lei on the casket, a sign of respect in accordance with Hawaiian tradition. "It was an amazing experience. At that moment, I fully and completely loved him." Connor's two siblings were also adopted. Still, he wrestled with rejection, fear and abandonment, suffering from a "hole in his heart," as his mother described it. A propensity toward addiction also emerged in their son, whose biological mother apparently had not remained sober during pregnancy. Veronica and Devin tried to be open with him, but when he embarked at age 18 on locating his birth parents, the process threw him head-first into drugs that seemed more likely to kill him than what ultimately did. "Dad and I are going to fight what took life away too young," his mother vowed in the hospital room at Hoag. At 3 p.m. his sister Sabrina, just one year younger than Connor, sat in chair close to her brother. Five-year-old Ashnika, their third sibling, adopted from Ethiopia, had discovered the Purell dispenser. Her white sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she moved from person to person, smothering the sanitizer on their hands. At 3:15 p.m., Devin scooped up the energetic child in her bright green dress, telling her, "I need a hug from you." Soon, she would be giving Connor a kiss goodbye. The other relatives began to gather their belongings. His maternal grandparents bid farewell, stroking his head, then his aunt and uncle, who took Ashnika from the room, spent one last moment with their nephew. A nurse announced the helicopters that would take away Connor's organs would be landing in 15 minutes. The room cleared out, but Ashnika and her aunt returned. The 5-year-old had forgotten to tell her big brother something. Her aunt held her close to his head. "I love you Connor," she said. * Cautionary tale placed on video In their last minutes with their son, Connor's mom, dad, sister and close friend filmed a video about the danger of spice. "This is our son, Connor Reid Echhardt," Veronica began, speaking in a strained voice. She continued, "He made the deadly choice to use a product called K2, or spice, and Connor is completely brain dead. [...] This is not a game, it is totally real, please help us fight his fight." After the family took a moment for a private goodbye, a "transport team" moved Connor from the ICU, through the hospital's hallways operating room. His family followed in close procession, right up to the operating room doors. That was as far as they were allowed to go, telling him one last time that they loved him, before his heart, liver, kidneys, and pancreas would be removed. Then it would be up to the surgical teams, which usually arrive separately by helicopter for each organ donated. That way, a donor's gifts can be rushed away as soon as possible, often packed in a cooler with a cold, saline slush. As the first group prepared for their work, a prayer from the family would be read. It began: "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us Connor for 19 years. He is the most amazing person. He has left his imprint on the lives of so many people. He loved you with all his heart." Hours later, around 8 p.m., a helicopter departed with that very organ. emily.foxhall@latimes.com
6 minutes ago
USA Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering It's that time of year again! Get On Board Day will be held on Wednesday, August 27, 2014 from 11:00 am - 2:00 pm in the Student Center Lobby. As a reminder, Get On Board Day is an opportunity to showcase your student organization to not only inco Read more ... ming freshmen, but also to the entire USA community! Spread the word! Here are the details: Location: Student Center Lobby Set Up Time: Organizations will need to be set up and ready no later than 10:30 a.m. What to bring: You can bring a tri-fold board, information about your group, giveaways, fliers, stand-up signs and a positive and energetic attitude! Tablecloths are provided; however, if your student organization has a tablecloth with your logo on it, feel free to bring that as well. If you want to bring items that promote your organization but will not fit on your designated table, PLEASE CALL ME TO HAVE THESE APPROVED! Duration: The ! fair will last from 11:00 am - 2:00 p.m. What to Wear: Professional or USA attire. Please dress appropriately. Jeans/khakis with your organization t-shirt or USA polo are suggested. Tables: Each organization will have one table, which will be labeled. Please do not leave any trash at your table. Find the nearest trash can to discard any items, if needed. How to reserve a table: Click on the link below to reserve a table. The deadline for reserving a table is Thursday, August 21st at 5:00 p.m. No late reservations past 5:00 p.m. will be accepted. Registration link: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1Py6dA4Qyz2SIwcEzstuDnHst-gNEjaV8RK9PZpd1hOI/vi If you can have any questions, please email me or call 251-460-7003. Warmly, Sergio Washington Office of Student Activities Graudate Assistant University of South Alabama 350 Campus Drive, Suite 101 Mobile, AL 36688-0! 002 P: 251-460-7003 F: 251-414-8256 E: activities@! southala bama.edu Website: southalabama.edu/studentactivities Facebook: SouthAlabamaStudentActivities Twitter: @USAOnCampus Instagram: usastudentactivities
8 minutes ago
Samantha Campbell Davis
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This picture was taken 10 days apart. I cannot tell you how important this is in so many ways. Please read below and discuss this with your teenagers. Love, Jo Ann Veronica Eckhardt bent over the hospital bed, sponging paint onto the sole of her son Read more ... 's left foot. "Connor would not like what we're doing," she remarked, but his foot did not twitch. Doctors had declared Connor Eckhardt brain-dead the day before, at age 19. Machines breathed for him in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit at Hoag Hospital. Veronica's husband, Devin, held his son's leg steady as she continued to apply a mixture of brown and blue, Connor's favorite colors. Their son's decision to donate his organs had allowed the couple extra time at his bedside. Tests needed to be run. Appropriate organ recipients had to be identified. On the day of his surgery, Veronica had been thinking of footprints they made when Connor was little. She wanted to make another set, so her mother and father-in-law went to buy supplies at Michaels. These painted prints would commemorate his end. "Although his footprints will no longer be walking on the earth, his imprints will still be there in so many peoples' lives," she said. The clock ticked past 2 p.m. Connor's organs were scheduled to be removed in two hours. * Synthetic drug is hard to trace The previous Saturday, an otherwise healthy Connor had smoked "spice" — a substance made from plants treated with chemicals that bind to the brain's cannabinoid receptors. The synthetic pot is thought of as a legal, untraceable way to get high, but the effect can be orders of magnitude more powerful than marijuana, said Dr. Michael Brant-Zawadzki, executive medical director of Hoag's neurosciences institute. Also called "K2," spice can overwhelm brain circuitry, possibly leading to psychosis, kidney injury, high body temperature, heart attack or, as in Connor's case, death. Concentrations of chemicals in spice vary, as do the chemicals themselves, making it difficult for users to know what they are smoking and how it might alter their brains. "There's no way to tell when you cross the line from the expected effects to the lethal effects," Brant-Zawadzki said. Whether because he stopped breathing or his heart stopped pumping blood, or both, Connor's brain was deprived of oxygen and began to swell. Tests run at the hospital would not detect spice. The ever-changing components make it difficult for scientists to develop a standard way to trace it. But the hospital found no sign of other drugs. And he had the small, square packet of spice still in his pocket. Legislators and law enforcement have trouble keeping up with spice too, since manufacturers simply change one part of the banned components to make it legal again. In California, there is no punishment for possessing spice, Newport Beach Police Officer Bill Hume said. The drug is often labeled "not for human consumption," and marketed as potpourri or incense. But many believe it is safe to smoke since it was once easily found at gas stations and head shops. "People see it as something you can buy over the counter," said Hume, a drug recognition expert for the department. "They have the false pretense that this is something that is safe." In reality "any synthetic cannabinoid compound, or any synthetic cannabinoid derivative" is now illegal to sell in California — a misdemeanor punishable under the state's health and safety code by up to six months in county jail and a $1,000 fine — but shops still offer it under code names, Hume said, and its reputation as "legal" persists. Connor had used other substances commonly believed to be much more dangerous, and his parents are certain he did not know spice would kill him. Instead, they think he succumbed to peer pressure and unknowingly made a fatal choice. "Connor did not want to die," his mother says. "Connor very much wanted to live. He had everything to live for." Veronica painted the bottom of his opposite foot. Both extremities were pressed against white paper. The nurse held up the result. "Oh, that's perfect," Veronica said, rushing to take hold of the print. * His golden skin radiated Family and friends had gathered in the gray, window-lit room for the last hours before surgery would begin. They filled the small space and spoke in low voices above the humming medical machinery. The comatose body before them hardly resembled the charismatic teen he had been. Usually, Connor animated a room. Quick to get to know strangers, he was the type who many considered their best friend. He was passionate, tender-hearted and loved deeply, his father would recall during a memorial service that weekend. He was athletic. His golden skin, which radiated in contrast with the mint green hospital gown he wore, and the calluses on his feet hinted at a teen who loved surfing, snowboarding, wake boarding and skateboarding. Failure had never given Connor pause. He lived life "all-in," according to his dad. He tried new sports until he mastered them, placing in a surf contest in Hawaii just days after he learned to stand on a board. Now he rested on a bed angled slightly upward, with his arms and legs propped on pillows. His head leaned toward a teddy bear nestled above his right shoulder, which his youngest sister now sleeps with every night. * 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus' At nearly 2:20 p.m., Veronica and Devin embraced at their son's side, exhausted and overcome with emotion. Music streamed from an iPhone. What can wash away our sin? What can make us whole again? Raised by a family strong in its Christian faith, Connor once knew such lyrics by heart. His father, president of an insurance management services group, also had a background in vocational ministry. In middle school, Connor taught himself to play the guitar. He later helped with worship services at Master's Ranch, a Christian boarding school in Missouri for troubled boys, which Connor attended at age 15 to help him work through emotions stemming from the knowledge that he was adopted. Connor inspired many others to pick up the instrument there and helped them to learn how to play, the Ranch's pastor, David Bosley, said. Connor enrolled in Liberty University in Virginia to become worship leader after high school, but hadn't yet completed the program. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Veronica sat in a chair next to her son, leaning her forehead on the bed. "What time is it?" she asked, looking up to find the answer. "So we only have an hour and 40 minutes with him?" Her lower lip curled down. Her right hand rested on Connor's left. The minutes ticked on. "I just keep thinking he's going to open his eyes and go, 'What's up guys?'" she said aloud. Folding over the bedside, she buried her head in his chest and cried. * A few hours spent in Puerto Rico When Connor decided to become an organ donor, his parents never imagined it would allow them four extra days with their son. Connor took a hit of spice with a friend on a Saturday night in Orange County. He later fell asleep. At midnight, the rest of his family, who live near Sacramento, landed in Puerto Rico for what they thought would be a two-week vacation. But they learned several hours later that Connor was in a Santa Ana hospital and were back at the airport soon after. Connor was transferred to Hoag overnight. When the Eckhardts arrived at his bedside midday Monday, his brain was swollen, and he was already in a coma. But they could take pictures. They could try to internalize his smell, which photos could never capture. They could talk to him, trace the muscles in his arms, run their fingers through his hair. And they could pray over him, laying hands on him, trying to let him go. "Father, we are so privileged to know and love and laugh with Connor," began a family friend, Chris Walsh, as the afternoon pushed on Thursday, July 17, before doctors would wheel Connor's body away. He continued, "I pray now for those who are in the same mess he was in just a year ago … I love this boy." * Getting clean in the desert Eight months earlier, a rehabilitation program in Palm Springs had helped Connor to get clean from drugs like heroin. He had stayed sober ever since. Mindy Hunt, 24, who met Connor in the program, recalled long hours they had spent discussing the struggle of abstaining. "No matter what was going on, what happened, he could get something good out of it," Hunt said during a time of open sharing at his memorial. "He could get something good out of any situation." Hunt had smoked spice once; it made her heart beat so fast that she couldn't stand up. Most recently, Connor had been living at a sober home in San Clemente. He excelled in his work at a Valvoline oil change service center, was committed to sobriety and had begun planning for his future. "I could see it in his eyes that he had strength," Emily Quezada, 26, who met him through the recovery program there, offered during the service. Quezada had never heard of spice, but begged, "We can't let CJ's death repeat itself. We can't let CJ die in vain..." * Biological mother suffered from addiction As the family's bedside prayer continued Thursday, the nurse entered to drape a blanket on Connor, then retreated. Veronica now began to speak: "Connor, I'm your mama, will always be your mama, and there is nothing that can take that away." Connor, or "CJ," as he was nicknamed, was adopted by the Eckhardts the day he was born, Oct. 19, 1994. "I knew I would do anything for him," Devin shared at the memorial, before draping a lei on the casket, a sign of respect in accordance with Hawaiian tradition. "It was an amazing experience. At that moment, I fully and completely loved him." Connor's two siblings were also adopted. Still, he wrestled with rejection, fear and abandonment, suffering from a "hole in his heart," as his mother described it. A propensity toward addiction also emerged in their son, whose biological mother apparently had not remained sober during pregnancy. Veronica and Devin tried to be open with him, but when he embarked at age 18 on locating his birth parents, the process threw him head-first into drugs that seemed more likely to kill him than what ultimately did. "Dad and I are going to fight what took life away too young," his mother vowed in the hospital room at Hoag. At 3 p.m. his sister Sabrina, just one year younger than Connor, sat in chair close to her brother. Five-year-old Ashnika, their third sibling, adopted from Ethiopia, had discovered the Purell dispenser. Her white sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she moved from person to person, smothering the sanitizer on their hands. At 3:15 p.m., Devin scooped up the energetic child in her bright green dress, telling her, "I need a hug from you." Soon, she would be giving Connor a kiss goodbye. The other relatives began to gather their belongings. His maternal grandparents bid farewell, stroking his head, then his aunt and uncle, who took Ashnika from the room, spent one last moment with their nephew. A nurse announced the helicopters that would take away Connor's organs would be landing in 15 minutes. The room cleared out, but Ashnika and her aunt returned. The 5-year-old had forgotten to tell her big brother something. Her aunt held her close to his head. "I love you Connor," she said. * Cautionary tale placed on video In their last minutes with their son, Connor's mom, dad, sister and close friend filmed a video about the danger of spice. "This is our son, Connor Reid Echhardt," Veronica began, speaking in a strained voice. She continued, "He made the deadly choice to use a product called K2, or spice, and Connor is completely brain dead. [...] This is not a game, it is totally real, please help us fight his fight." After the family took a moment for a private goodbye, a "transport team" moved Connor from the ICU, through the hospital's hallways operating room. His family followed in close procession, right up to the operating room doors. That was as far as they were allowed to go, telling him one last time that they loved him, before his heart, liver, kidneys, and pancreas would be removed. Then it would be up to the surgical teams, which usually arrive separately by helicopter for each organ donated. That way, a donor's gifts can be rushed away as soon as possible, often packed in a cooler with a cold, saline slush. As the first group prepared for their work, a prayer from the family would be read. It began: "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us Connor for 19 years. He is the most amazing person. He has left his imprint on the lives of so many people. He loved you with all his heart." Hours later, around 8 p.m., a helicopter departed with that very organ. emily.foxhall@latimes.com
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Texas Fallen Heroes Memorial Wall- MOPH 1849 Army Capt. Eric L. Allton Died September 26, 2004 Serving During Operation Iraqi Freedom 34, of Houston; assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 17th Field Artillery Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division, Camp Hovey, Korea; killed Sept. 26 when he was struck by a m Read more ... ortar round in Ramadi, Iraq. Soldier’s widow got ‘the dreaded knock’ By Anna Webb Associated Press BOISE, Idaho — Christina Allton keeps a special “wedding shelf” in her apartment. White bride and groom teddy bears, ceramic angels and a German wedding cup sit on folds of white satin. The shelf also holds the video of the ceremony when she married her husband, Eric, and her bouquet of artificial white roses. Christina chose artificial flowers, she said, because as a military wife, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take perishable flowers when she crossed national borders. Her wedding bouquet looks as fresh as it did on Aug. 11, 2001, her wedding day. Because of his military service, they were only together for one of their three wedding anniversaries. Now Christina is forced to deal with a more profound separation. Her husband, Eric Allton, a captain in the US Army, died in Iraq on Sept. 26 when a mortar round struck him. He was 34. “There were only two ways Eric said he wanted to die,” said Christina, “either growing old with me, or dying as a soldier.” Christina was born at St. Luke’s on Christmas 25 years ago. She got her picture in the paper for being the first Christmas baby born in Boise. That framed black and white photo sits near her wedding shelf, near her husband’s collection of framed ship prints and the wooden flute Eric had made for her, carved with a frog, her lucky totem animal. She studies biology at Boise State University and wants to work for the U.S. Forest Service or the national parks system some day. She and Eric, who wanted to become a professor of military science, hoped to retire in North Central Idaho because they loved the mountains. She liked to tease Eric, a native Texan from the flatlands, about referring to the Boise Foothills as “mountains.” Her husband also loved mint chocolate chip ice cream, Christina said, made delicious grilled cheese sandwiches and had a good ear when it came to playing the guitar. On the way home from a trip to Stanley last weekend, Christina and her mother, Denisa Dennis, got a flat tire. At first, they were worried they wouldn’t have the right equipment to fix the flat. And yes, Denisa said, they’re military women — they fix their own flats. But then they remembered that before Eric left, he equipped the car. Sure enough, “There was the right sized lug nut wrench, and a full-sized spare,” Christina said. They made it home, but later that evening, Christina said, “I got what I call ‘the dreaded knock.’ “ She opened the door to find a “casualty notification officer” in uniform. She didn’t believe the officer at first when he told her her husband had died. She fell to the floor. The officer held her, and they sat on the floor together for an entire hour, she said, until Denisa arrived from her home in Parma.
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Jagannath Kalyandeep
Timeline Photos
Hindu history of Afghanistan Afghanistan" comes from "Upa-Gana-stan" Raja Jaya Pal Shahi, Ruler of Punjab bore the brunt of the Islamic Onslaught. The year 980C.E. marks the beginning of the Muslim invasion into India proper when Sabuktagin attacke Read more ... d Raja Jaya Pal in Afghanistan. Afghanistan is today a Muslim country separated from India by another Muslim country Pakistan. But in 980 C.E. Afghanistan was also a place where the people were Hindus and Buddhists. The name "Afghanistan" comes from "Upa-Gana-stan" which means in Sanskrit "The place inhabited by allied tribes". This was the place from where Gandhari of the Mahabharat came from Gandhar whose king was Shakuni. The Pakthoons are descendants of the Paktha tribe mentioned in Vedic literature. Till the year 980 C.E., this area was a Hindu majority area, till Sabuktagin from Ghazni invaded it and displaced the ruling Hindu king - Jaya Pal Shahi. The place where Kabul's main mosque stands today was the site of an ancient Hindu temple and the story of its capture is kept alive in Islamic Afghan legend which describes the Islamic hero Sabuktagin who fought with a sword in every hand to defeat the Hindus and destroy their temple to put up a Mosque in its place. The victory of Sabuktagin pushed the frontiers of the Hindu kingdom of the Shahis from Kabul to behind the Hindu Kush mountains Hindu Kush is literally "killer of Hindus" - a name given by Mahmud Ghazni to describe the number of Hindus who died on their way into Afghanistan to a life of captivity . After this setback, the Shahis shifted their capital from Kubha (Kabul) to Udbhandapura (modern Und in NWFP). Sabuktagin's son Mahmud Ghazni, kept up the attacks on the Shahis and captured Und. Subsequently, the Shahis moved their capital to Lahore and later to Kangra in Himachal. *** The recovery and significance of the inscription, telling a story of the Hindu ruler Veka and his devotion to lord `Siva', was told by leading epigraphist and archaeologist Prof Ahmad Hasan Dani of the Quaid-E-Azam University of Islamabad at the ongoing Indian History Congress here. If historians, preferred to revise the date of the first Hindu Shahi ruler Kallar from 843-850 AD to 821-828 AD, the date of 138 of present inscription, if it refers to the same era, should be equal to 959 AD which falls during the reign of Bhimapala'', Dani said in a paper `Mazar-i Sharif inscription of the time of the Shahi ruler Veka, dated the year 138'', submitted to the Congress. The inscription, with eleven lines written in `western Sarada' style of Sanskrit of 10th century AD, had several spelling mistakes. ``As the stone is slightly broken at the top left corner, the first letter `OM' is missing'', he said. According to the inscription, "the ruler Veka occupied by eight-fold forces, the earth, the markets and the forts. It is during his reign that a temple of Siva in the embrace with Uma was built at Maityasya by Parimaha (great) Maitya for the benefit of himself and his son''. Dani said ``the inscription gives the name of the king as Shahi Veka Raja and bestows on him the qualification of `Iryatumatu Ksanginanka'.... and (he) appears to be the same king who bears the name of Khingila or Khinkhila who should be accepted as a Shahi ruler''. Dani further said ``he may be an ancestor of Veka deva. As his coins are found in Afghanistan and he is mentioned by the Arab ruler Yaqubi, he may be an immediate predecessor of Veka deva...... Both the evidences of inscription and coins suggest that Veka or Vaka should be accepted as an independent ruler of northern Afghanistan. "Thus we find another branch of the Shahi ruler in northern part of Afghanistan beyond the Hindukush. Veka is said to have conquered the earth, the markets and the forts by his eight-fold forces, suggesting that he must have himself gained success against the Arab rulers of southern Afghanistan''. Dani observed that going by the findings it seemed that during the rule of the Hindu Shahi ruler Bhimapala there was a break in the dynasty -- one branch, headed by Jayapala, ruled in Lamaghan and Punjab, and another branch, headed by Veka, ruled in northern part of Afghanistan. "The northern branch must have come to an end by the conquest of Alptigin in the second half of tenth century AD'', he said. (source: Inscription throws new light to Hindu rule in Afghanistan - indianexpress.com) India has developed a highly constructive, imaginative reconstruction strategy for Afghanistan that is designed to please every sector of Afghan society, give India a high profile with the Afghan people, gain the maximum political advantage with the Afghan government, increase its influence with its Northern Alliance friends and turn its image from that of a country that supported the Soviet invasion and the communist regime in the 1980s to an indispensable ally and friend of the Afghan people in the new century. (Source: Hinduism (The forgotten facts)') — with Vivek Gaur and 49 others.
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