Podcasts about Stevens

Rev. Cyril A. Stevens – Sermon 1109A recorded on August 10, 1986 teaching from Romans 8:29-30 – Whom He Did Predestinate. Pastor Cyril A. Stevens focuses on the doctrine of eternal security, the belief that once a person is saved, they cannot be lost. Stevens' message is structured as a response to common arguments against…

Stevens Roundtable: 45 Years of Excellence - Stevens Transport Celebrate 45 years of excellence in refrigerated transportation with Stevens Transport, a proud family-owned leader in the trucking industry. This video details the journey of Stevens Transport from a small operation with just a few trucks in 1980 to becoming one of the largest refrigerated carriers in North America. See the Video Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMefRiGnGNA How The Truckers Saved Christmas - Bill Weaver Music A self penned Christmas song about D.O.T. shutting Santa down and the Truckers saving Christmas. YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7F0LgQicHw Team Driving Discover the transformative world of team driving with Stevens Transport in this insightful discussion. Learn how driving with a partner boosts efficiency, earning potential, and safety, while allowing for nearly constant travel and the enjoyment of America's stunning landscapes. Understand how federal regulations intersect with teamwork logistics, enabling over 5,500 miles a week. Insights on rest strategies, like bunk bed sleeping arrangements, are shared. Stevens Transport explains the advantages of choosing your driving partner and how this approach can elevate your trucking career. Explore team driving's benefits and start your journey to success now. Earn More/Team Up - https://vimeo.com/1020240977 Driver Spotlight: Raymond Hatchette Jr. Meet Stevens Transport independent contractor and trainer Raymond Hatchette, Jr.! Raymond shares the journey he's taken from military service to transitioning to a civilian career, highlighting the importance of being patient and working hard, while feeling grateful for the opportunity to teach the next generation of truck drivers. See the video here: https://youtu.be/upnzC79uMfI?si=X0JFwihFK-mKRUdZ Miles and Mentors - Raymond Hatchette Jr. As a special holiday treat, we're proud to share a song written and performed by one of our own, Raymond Hatchette, Jr, a Stevens contracted driver who has completed three successful leases, serves as a driver trainer, and is also a talented songwriter and singer. "Miles and Mentors" is more than a song, it's a heartfelt tribute to the lessons learned on the road and the people who shape us along the way. Become a Driver for Stevens Transport For questions on whether you meet our driver qualifications, please call our Recruiting Department at 1-800-333-8595 or visit: www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/ Stevens Transport 9757 Military Parkway, Dallas, TX 75227 http://www.stevenstransport.com/ http://www.becomeadriver.com/ Driver Recruiting: 1-800-333-8595.  Apply Here: https://intelliapp2.driverapponline.com Paragon Leasing Technician Careers: https://www.stevenstransport.com/careers/fleet-maintenance-jobs/

THE MARRIAGE OF PETER STRONG AND MARY STEVENS Colleague Barbara Weisberg. Weisbergintroduces the marriage of Peter Strong and Mary Stevens, scions of wealthy New York families. Despite a storybook beginning, they move to Peter's mother's estate in Queens to secure his inheritance. This arrangement isolates Mary, who must live among her in-laws rather than in her own home. NUMBER 5

Join Jim and Greg for the Monday 3 Martini Lunch as they break down growing tensions on the right following a heated Turning Point USA event, Rep. Elise Stefanik's abrupt exit from the New York governor's race, and a Michigan U.S. Senate candidate fantasizing about assaulting U.S. Supreme Court justices.First, they react to Ben Shapiro's speech on how politics and journalism should be conducted, including his sharp criticism of Tucker Carlson for platforming figures like Nick Fuentes without challenging their views. Carlson then returned verbal fire and accused his critics of trying to divide people. Jim says the right is not well-served by tolerating conspiracy theories and playing footsie with anti-Semitism.Next, they dig into why New York Rep. Elise Stefanik decided to pull the plug on her campaign for governor. They also examine how the year started with President Trump choosing Stefanik to be his ambassador to the United Nations and ended with Trump refusing to endorse her run for governor.Finally, they get a glimpse of another unhinged Democrat running for U.S. Senate in Michigan, as State Senator Mallory McMorrow says she heard Supreme Court Justices Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh attended a tailgate at her alma mater of Notre Dame University. McMorrow suggests she would have thrown beer in their faces. But the rest of the Democrats running are also really bad.Please visit our great sponsors:Go to https://OmahaSteaks.com and use code 3ML at checkout for an extra $35 off. Minimum purchase may apply. See site for details. A big thanks to our advertiser, Omaha Steaks!Listeners can start a new tradition this December with 10% off at BetterHelp—visit https://BetterHelp.com/3ML to get started.New episodes every weekday. 

Nick 'Fitzy' Stevens and Andy Hart have you right as zeroes hit the clock at M&T Bank Stadium in Baltimore as the Patriots came back to beat the Baltimore Ravens and clinch a playoff berth

Futurist and Technology Risk Advisor Skeeve Stevens joins Pat Panetta to discuss the future of AI.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Fifty First State Podcast | Episode 11 | It's time to go to Broka BrokaWelcome to another week of the Fifty First State Podcast where culture has no borders. Sponsored by LS Cream https://www.creamls.com/Go to patreon.com/fiftyfirststate if you want to support our content.PATRONS WILL GET THE FOLLOWING-Extra content available only on Patreon-Ask the hosts any questions to answer or propose subjects to tackle in the next episode-Get the new regular episodes firstThis week on the Patreon exclusive episode: - Ford is out of electric cars for good - Stevens has a full blown conversation with Chat GPT- Chris Brown meet and greets makes the rounds again- Return on the Diddy doc0:00 Intro6:41 Gaby's disater moving experience14:21 Amanada Seales talks about Haiti24:18 Get ready to show social media at the border35:00 Sydney Sweeney and the state of the movie industry1:00:56 Women entitlement: It's time to go to Broka Broka1:10:07 Liking women photos on IG can be grounds for divorce now1:24:53 See you on Patreon Follow Fifty First State Podcast https://www.instagram.com/fiftyfirststatepodcast/Follow Stevens: https://www.instagram.com/stevensjcharles/Follow Gaby: https://www.instagram.com/gabymichel2000/Follow Tammy: https://www.instagram.com/tammytuesdayz

Yes, they're connected by name. Yes, they're connected by being born within 9 months of each other. Yes, they're connected by their crazy talent to bring the best out of the sci-fi, horror, fantasy genres. But filmmaker Steven Spielberg and best-selling writer Stephen King are most connected by being in the rarefied extremely small subset of creative artists who have both climbed to the top peak of commercial AND artistic success. Spielberg movies like Duel, Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, E.T. and King works like Carrie, The Shining, It, The Stand, Wizard and Glass have had blockbuster success while also being genuine explorations and expressions of their creators' obsessions. Secret Movie Club founder.programmer Craig Hammill devotes the last podcast of 2025 to a deep dive into what traits and characteristics unite the two artists and what we might learn from them. (We'll be back with our next new pod, SMC Podcast #205-The Movies of 2025 on Friday, January 9, 2026). Happy holidays and happy new year.

M-E-R-R-Y--C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S!! The Emporium brings you the music of Mariah Carey, Brad Paisley, Taylor Swift, The Waitresses, Shakin' Stevens, The Pogues & Kirsty McColl, Billy Idol, The Pretenders, Carrie Underwood, The Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Pat Benatar, Kimberly Perry and Kate Rusby.

Chris Forsberg is back with a new Celtics Talk Podcast! Chris is reacting to President of Basketball Operations Brad Stevens' impromptu media availability at Celtics' practice.  1:00: Chris Forsberg reacts to Brad Stevens expressing confidence in current Celtics roster heading towards NBA trade deadline2:28: Brad Stevens reveals they didn't apply for DPE after Jayson Tatum's injury8:40: Celtics approach to trade deadline: Will they target a big man to help Neemias Queta?14:00: Jordan Walsh's impact on defense  18:20: Brad Stevens full media availability  20:20: Jayson Tatum will not be back until he is "110% healthy."29:00: Stevens talks Neemias Queta's growth this season and how he's handled his new rolePresented by 25 Auto Group  WATCH every episode of the Celtics Talk podcast on YouTubeFollow NBC Sports Boston:NBCSportsBoston.comX @NBCScelticsFacebookInstagramTikTok Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

An off the hinges Greg Hill Show Hour 1 - Refs rig the Pats/Bills game? Was the moon landing real? Hour 2 - Stevens confirm Tatum return? Hour 3 - The News With Coco and Judd Sirott. Hour 4 - Regifting and Hill Notes.

Coco, Wiggy and Greg give their leads for the morning. Wiggy has a couple of ideas for were Tom Brady could land if he wants to come back, and Greg is buying into the NFL Ref conspiracy.

Stevens Roundtable: Safety Results That Matter Trucker Tim sits down with Ken Resta, Senior Director of Safety, who joined Stevens Transport in July 2023 and has already helped drive major safety improvements. Ken credits the teamwork between safety, operations, and drivers for measurable gains in speeding, intersection compliance, and on-road behaviors. A powerful update on progress, accountability, and keeping Stevens at the top of the safety game. Stevens Driver- Andres Sanchez III – 18 Years Strong Andres Sanchez III, a Stevens Transport driver with an incredible 18-year career, all with Stevens reflects on watching the fleet evolve from the early blue trucks of the 2000s to today's modern, technology-packed equipment, and how those advancements help improve safety for drivers and the motoring public. From warehouse work to life behind the wheel, Andres' story is a powerful example of how trucking with Stevens can provide stability, pride, and the ability to support a family for the long haul. Safety Tip: Winterizing Your Truck & Yourself In this Safety Tip of the Week, Safety Supervisor Terrence Burgess shares essential reminders for preparing both your truck and yourself for winter driving conditions. Team Driving Discover the transformative world of team driving with Stevens Transport in this insightful discussion. Learn how driving with a partner boosts efficiency, earning potential, and safety, while allowing for nearly constant travel and the enjoyment of America's stunning landscapes. Understand how federal regulations intersect with teamwork logistics, enabling over 5,500 miles a week. Insights on rest strategies, like bunk bed sleeping arrangements, are shared. Stevens Transport explains the advantages of choosing your driving partner and how this approach can elevate your trucking career. Explore team driving's benefits and start your journey to success now. Earn More/Team Up - https://vimeo.com/1020240977 Driver Spotlight:  Tommy Faucette Meet Tommy Faucette, an Owner Operator of five years from Henderson, NC. His father sparked his passion for trucking, and Stevens Transport's exceptional equipment showed him he was in the right place. Now a proud truck owner, the reality still hasn't fully sunk in. Learn more about Tommy and the road that led him here. See the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYYvStUEEwg Tip of the Big Ten Gallon Stevens Cap We tip the big ten-gallon Stevens cap to Driver, Mark Scriven on being named a top-three finalist in the Transition Trucking campaign and earning the $10,000 award is a tremendous accomplishment, Mark served our country with honor and continues to serve this industry with the same dedication, professionalism, and commitment to safety. We are proud to have you behind the wheel of a Stevens truck Mark. Become a Driver for Stevens Transport For questions on whether you meet our driver qualifications, please call our Recruiting Department at 1-800-333-8595 or visit: www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/ Stevens Transport 9757 Military Parkway, Dallas, TX 75227 http://www.stevenstransport.com/ http://www.becomeadriver.com/ Driver Recruiting: 1-800-333-8595.  Apply Here: https://intelliapp2.driverapponline.com Paragon Leasing Technician Careers: https://www.stevenstransport.com/careers/fleet-maintenance-jobs/ Follow Stevens Transport on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StevensTransport    

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan's auto industry is still a global leader, but Glenn Stevens of MICHAUTO argues in this episode that "innovate or be left behind" is no longer a slogan — it's the stakes of the moment for the state's economy. Glenn walks through the forces reshaping the industry — rapid technology shifts like automation, AI, and EVs, fierce global competition from places like China, and whiplash in trade and domestic policy that makes long-term planning harder. He explains why the real battle is for talent: from skilled trades to high-end software and digital jobs, Michigan needs better K–12 outcomes, clearer career pathways, more counselors, affordable housing, and reliable transit if it wants people to build their lives and careers here. Here's the full report if you want to check it out for yourself: https://michauto.org/michauto-report-michigan-must-innovate-or-be-left-behind-amid-rapidly-changing-automobility-industry/ Feedback as always: dailydetroit - at - gmail - dot - com Thanks to City Bird for their support. Get grat local gifts this holiday season: https://www.citybirddetroit.com/ Support the show on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/DailyDetroit Follow us on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/daily-detroit/id1220563942 Or Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1Yhv8nSylVWxlZilRhi4X9?si=df538dae2e144431  

The Fort McDowell Yavapai Nation neighboring Fountain Hills, Ariz. recently dealt with reports of “aggressive dogs running loose”, resulting in attacks that prompted its police department to increase patrols while urging the public to stay away. KJZZ's Gabriel Pietrorazio reports. Two tribal members were bitten last week and are now recovering from non-lethal injuries, according to acting chief of police Jesse Puffer. “We did catch three out of the four dogs.” Incidents like this are not uncommon on tribal lands with canines roaming their 24,000-acre reservation. Some are seen as strays – often dogs that are dumped there by owners who do not wish to keep them – while others are claimed by tribal members as pets. “We also have a dog ordinance, too, so people get cited for that as well – depending on what the nature anywhere from, you know, $150 fine and plus you and it can be higher if you can't show record of vaccination and also licensing.” The documentary “Remaining Native” tracks Yerington Paiute Tribal member Ku Stevens as he confronts the horror of what his great-grandfather went through in boarding school. Stevens created a remembrance run tracking the same route his great-grandfather took to escape his boarding school. KNPR's Jimmy Romo attended a screening of the film and brings us this report. Warning: This story includes accounts of violence against children In 1913, government officials ripped 8-year-old Yerington Paiute Tribe member Frank Quinn from his family and placed him in the Stewart Indian Boarding School near Carson City, Nev.  As part of her history PhD studies at UNLV, Annie Delgado researches what actually happened to Native children in the U.S. boarding school system. “The early years are just filled with trauma, abuse, pain, and just assimilation.”   Many students tried to escape the abuse. Quinn's great-grandson Ku Stevens is the protagonist in the documentary, “Remaining Native”. In the film, viewers learn, along with Stevens, the story of his great-grandfather. To remember the courage of Native children who tried to escape, Stevens organized a remembrance run from Yerington, Nev. to the Stewart Indian School.  The first run took place in 2021, followed by three others. The route marked the same 50-mile run Quinn took to go back home, as Stevens explains.   “They were running, sweating and bleeding. I think of this guy Russell, who I consider just like an uncle, broke both his feet, fractured them by the end of the run. And he did all 50 miles.”   In the most recent class action lawsuit, the Wichita and Affiliated Tribes and the Washoe Tribe of Nevada and California filed a case against the federal government in May. They are suing over misused funds. Currently, the sovereign nations are requesting the U.S. itemize a $23 billion trust fund, established by pressuring Native nations to sign agreements. Most of  these treaties promised that the U.S. would educate Indigenous children in exchange for their land. That wasn't what happened, according to UNLV's Annie Delgado. “The United States government itself knows that these schools did not educate [children] the way they intended to educate.”  The communal trauma of boarding schools still affects Indigenous families across the nation.  “Remaining Native” is still available for community screenings. The Bridging Agency Data Gaps & Ensuring Safety for Native Communities Act has passed the U.S. Senate. It supports the recruitment and retention of Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) law enforcement officers, bolsters federal missing persons resources, and gives Tribes and states tools to combat MMIP. The legislation is led by U.S. Sens. Catherine Cortez Masto (D-NM), John Hoeven (R-ND), Ruben Gallego (D-AZ), and Mike Rounds (R-SD).   Get National Native News delivered to your inbox daily. Sign up for our daily newsletter today. Download our NV1 Android or iOs App for breaking news alerts. Check out the latest episode of Native America Calling Tuesday, December 16, 2025 – Native in the Spotlight: Randy Taylor

404! Den fejlmeddelelse har du sikkert fået en del gange på nettet. Du har klikket på et link, som ender blindt. Indholdet, du søgte, er pist borte.Eller er det nu også forsvundet? Måske er det bare linket, der er dødt, fordi en hjemmesideadministrator har flyttet rundt på nogle ting og ikke orket at reparere alle de døde links, som opstår, når man flytter rundt på sit indhold.Det blev den danske open source programmør Steven Snedker så træt af, at han løste problemet. Med et ganske lille stykke kode fandt han værktøjet, som nu har reddet millioner af websider ud af linkråddenskabens sump til stor fornøjelse for alle os internetbrugere.Medvirkende:Steven Snedker, datalog, vertikal.dkLinks:Stevens historie 1: https://vertikal.dk/linkrot-solved-problemStevens historie 2: https://vertikal.dk/artikler/vertikal-bygger-broer-tanker-uge-302024The Wayback Machine hos the Internet Archive https://web.archive.org

After losing in a disapointing fashion at home to Walsall in the week, Latics went to Crawley at the weekend...and drew in a disapointing fashion. It could have been worse though, Crawley had their chances to win it and were ALMOST awarded the most dubious of penalties, right at the death.The Boundary Park Alert System is sponsored by ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pendle Nu Tech⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. For information on all their fire safety services, click ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Big thanks to Latics fan Sebastian from Pendle Nu Tech for sponsoring the show.You can support the pod by paying a monthly subscription of just £2.99 via this link⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠If you'd like to make a one off donation, you can now also Buy Us A Coffee by clicking ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠You can also support us by visiting ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠our website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, subscribing to our mailing list and purchasing from our⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠online shop.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Please subscribe to our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube Channel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to watch the Latics Football Phone In live every Thursday from 8.30pm.BPAS and Latics Football Phone In are⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠KUPOD⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ productions for ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠We Are Oldham - Dedicated Fan Media⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Title music is by Manchester DJ and producer Starion find out more ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Laticsmind theme composed, recorded and produced by ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Matt Berry⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ at King Buzzard Studios in Shaw.

As I've done the last couple of years, I once again flipped through historical papers to find fun Christmas stories for you to enjoy. And, make sure you listen all the way to the end because this episode includes a special Christmas gift from me to you.SOURCESAmtrakguy365. “CSX's Santa Train - An Appalachian Christmas Tradition.” YouTube. Accessed August 26, 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BnfR0IkJUw. Anderson, Lorena. “‘Guardian Angel' Aids Ridge Woman.” Paradise Post (Paradise, California), December 26, 1991. www.newspapers.com.Associated Press. “The Last In Appalachia - Christmas Comes Early .” The Daily Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts), December 6, 1973. www.newspapers.com.Stevens, Bryan. “Authors Recall the Time the Railroad -- and Santa Claus, Too -- Were Sued.” The Erwin Record (Erwin,Tennessee), December 21, 2022. www.newspapers.com.Willliamson, C.N., and A.M. Williamson. “Rosemary: In Search of a Father.” The Neenah Daily Times (Neenah, Wisconsin), November 3, 1907. www.newspapers.com.SOUNDS SOURCESAl Jolson. “I'll Say She Does.” www.pixabay.com/music.Lucille Hegamin and The Dixie Daisies. “Cold Winter Blues.” www.pixabay.com/music.Sophie Tucker. “Reuben Rag.” www.pixabay.com/music.

Scott Stevens, the greatest open-ice hitter in NHL history and three-time Stanley Cup champion, joins Neil and Vic for an unforgettable Hall of Fame Edition conversation. From his early days as the fifth overall pick in Washington to becoming the first player to have his number retired by the New Jersey Devils, Stevens reflects on his 22-year Hall of Fame career. He shares stories about learning to channel his intensity, the legendary 1994 Eastern Conference Final, winning three championships with three different coaches, and the art of delivering clean, devastating hits while never finishing a season as a minus player.IN THIS EPISODE:[00:00] - Scott Stevens joins as the latest guest on NHL Wraparound Hall of Fame Edition, introduced as perhaps the greatest open-ice hitter ever.[01:00] - The modern fighting phenomenon: why players have to fight after clean hits today versus Stevens' era when hitting was just part of the game.[03:00] - Stevens' philosophy on clean hits: turning your cheek and letting opponents take penalties rather than engaging after legal contact.[04:00] - The Nick Foligno-Brendan Smith fight after the Connor Bedard hit in New Jersey - automatic response to clean contact.[05:00] - Junior hockey glory: winning the Memorial Cup with the Kitchener Rangers and wearing number three before switching to the iconic number four.[06:00] - The number evolution: three in Washington, two in St. Louis, and finally four in New Jersey (Kenny Daneyko had three).[07:00] - NHL debut magic: first goal on first shot against Eddie Mio and the Rangers at Madison Square Garden with his parents watching.[08:00] - Brian Murray's pivotal advice: channeling emotion to stay on the ice more and finding the fine art of playing on the edge without crossing it.[09:00] - Penalty minute transformation: from 200+ PIMs four times in first 12 seasons to barely exceeding 100 in final 10 years.[10:00] - The mentorship of Brian Engblom: sitting together before every game, studying opponents' tendencies, learning what to watch for on every forward.[12:00] - Leadership philosophy: leading by example, not with words - showing up ready to practice and compete every single day.[13:00] - Practice intensity: hitting teammates with their heads down when upset, making sure everyone knew winning mattered above all else.[14:00] - The difficult St. Louis departure: holding out after signing as a free agent, buying and selling houses, having a newborn and 16-month-old.[15:00] - Lou Lamoriello's class: picking up the family at the airport with car seats, making sure they were comfortable and settled in New Jersey.[16:00] - The awkward captaincy transition: taking the "C" from Bruce Driver and asking for his continued help with organization and scheduling.[18:00] - Group Two free agency explained: the stunning compensation system and how David Poile chose not to match Washington's offer.[19:00] - The Brendan Shanahan equalization: becoming the compensation award over Curtis Joseph and Rod Brind'Amour during Canada Cup training camp.[21:00] - The 1994 Eastern Conference Final: that Devils team as potentially the best personnel-wise, just not ready to win yet.[23:00] - The 1995 championship run: learning from 1994's pain, getting better through the playoffs, and feeling invincible against Detroit in the sweep.[25:00] - Learning from losses: gaining experience from mistakes and using that hurt to take the next step as a team and individuals.[26:00] - Three coaches, three Cups: Jacques Lemaire's revolutionary systems teaching, feeling like a kid learning positioning and stick detail.[27:00] - The Lemaire revelation: learning more in year 13 than all previous years combined, understanding two-on-ones and positional play.[28:00] - Larry Robinson's gutsy late-season takeover: Lou...

Stuff Your Stockings Episode 2 with Adrian Beck, Tina Strachan and Lucie Stevens. This pop-up podcast gives 2025's debut kidlit authors their moment under the Christmas tree!

On this killer episode of Talking Guitars on Johnny Beane TV, we kick things off with a cool story straight from Guitar World—then it's full speed to the workbench

Jacqueline Stevens v. ICE

The Blasters & Blades PodcastToday we're sitting down with James Raquepau to talk about his Destiny Cycle Series set in the middle of the wilds of ancient Celtic mythology. It was a fun interview for the history nerd in all of us. And for those who don't like history, you'll dig the magic and mythology! Seriously, this was a fun interview! Go check out this episode. Lend us your eyes and ears, you won't be sorry!! Co-Hosts: JR Handley (Author) (Grunt)Jana S Brown (Author) (Chief Shenanigator)We work for free, so if you wanna throw a few pennies our way there is a linked Buy Me A Coffee site where you can do so. Just mention the podcast in the comments when you donate, and I'll keep the sacred bean water boiling!Support the Show: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/AuthorJRHandley Our LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/blastersandbladespodcast Today's SponsorLayla! by A.M. Stevens: https://www.amazon.com/Layla-M-Stevens-ebook/dp/B0FQX5XVKT Coffee Brand Coffee Affiliate Support the Show: https://coffeebrandcoffee.com/?ref=y4GWASiVorJZDb Discount Code: PodcastGrunts Coupon Code Gets you 10% off The Destiny Cycle Series by James Raquepau: https://www.amazon.com/Destiny-Cycle-Trilogy-Blades-Stone-ebook/dp/B0FQ15JKDH/ https://www.destinycycle.com/book/destiny-cycle-one https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0CVLLT819 https://books.apple.com/us/book/lann-d%C3%A0n-blades-of-destiny-revised-edition-ii/id6478124123 https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lann-dan-blades-of-destiny https://draft2digital.com/book/1347510 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lann-dan-blades-of-destiny-revised-edition-iii-james-raquepau/1148014235;jsessionid=867BADD0D011D7AD6095E4B23793370A.prodny_store02-atgap04?ean=2940186150220 Follow James Raquepau on social mediaJames' Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/James-Raquepau/author/B0CYNV6L61 James' Website: http://www.destinycycle.com/ James' Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/james.raquepau/ James' Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61564762572960 James' TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@james.raquepau James' YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@DestinyCycleBooks James' LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/authorjamesraquepau Bard's of Destiny: https://www.destinycycle.com/destiny-cycle-music Follow Jana S Brown on social mediaJana's Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jana-S.-Brown/author/B015VJV7JW Jana's Website: www.opalkingdompress.com Jana's Facebook: www.facebook.com/janasbrownwrites Jana's LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/opalkingdompress Follow Jena Rey on social mediaJena's Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jena-Rey/author/B08XSCHXYX #scifishenanigans #scifishenaniganspodcast #bbp #blastersandblades #blastersandbladespodcast #podcast #scifipodcast #fantasypodcast #scifi #fantasy #books #rpg #comics #fandom #literature #comedy #veteran #army #armyranger #ranger #scififan #redshirts #scifiworld #sciencefiction #scifidaily #scificoncept #podcastersofinstagram #scificons #podcastlife #podcastsofinstagram #scifibooks #awardwinningscifi #newepisode #podcastersofinstagram #podcastaddict #podcast #scifigeek #scifibook #sfv #scifivisionaries #firesidechat #chat #panel #fireside #religionquestion #coffee #tea #coffeeortea #CoffeeBrandCoffee #JRHandley #NickGarber #MadamStabby #JenaRey #JanaSBrown #OpalKingdomPress #TheDestinyCycleSeries #JamesRaquepau #starwars #jedi #georgelucas #lucasfilms #startrek #trekkie #firefly #serenity #browncoat #wheeloftime #wot #robertjordan #brandonsanderson #gameofthrones #got #grrm #georgerrmartin #ChroniclesofNarnia #CSLewis #GreatWormOfIreland #JRRTolkien #Tolkien #LotR #LordOfTheRing #DavidWeber #HonorHarringtonSeries #DragonRidersOfPern #Pern #AnneMcCaffrey #BrandonSanderson #StormlightSeries #Ireland #Scotland #Celtic #Scottish #Irish #TheTroubles #NorthernIreland #CelticMythology #TheLakesDistrict #kilt #bagpipes #bagpipe #Lugh #TheMorrigan #Brigid #TheTuathaDéDanann

Þessar vikurnar streyma nýútgefnar bækur í bókabúðir og verslanir um allt land í hinu svokallaða  jólabókaflóði . Hugtakið vísar til þess þegar nýjar bækur „flæða“ inn á markaðinn rétt fyrir jólin – þetta hugtak er að sjálfsögðu að löngu orðið rótgróið í íslenskri tungu, en á undanförnum árum hefur hugtakið „jólabókaflóð“ byrjað að skjóta upp kollinum á ólíkum tungumálum í erlendum fjölmiðlum. Branislav Bedi, verkefnastjóri hjá Árnastofnun, sest hjá okkur í upphafi þáttar til að segja okkur meira. Svo kíkjum við í heimsókn á leikskólann Hlíðarenda. Þar finnur starfsfólk fyrir spenningnum og tilhlökkuninni sem eykst hjá börnunum eftir því sem nær dregur jólunum. Sigrún Inga Reynisdóttir deildarstjóri segir mikilvægt að skapa rólegt umhverfi í kringum börnin í desember. Við fáum einnig að heyra í Unni, 5 ára, og Matthíasi Myrkva, 4 ára. Þau segja okkur allt um Grýlu, jólagjafir, jólasveina og syngja fyrir okkur jólalög. Þegar jólaösin er komin á fullt er mikilvægt að gefa sér tíma og staldra við. Það er auðvelt að gleyma sér í streitunni og því skiptir máli að nálgast jólahátíðina með ró, njóta góðra stunda og tengsla við fólkið í kringum sig. Sigrún Þóra Sveinsdóttir, doktor í lífeðlisfræðilegri sálfræði, kíkir til okkar í lok þáttar og gefur okkur góð ráð til að halda púlsinum niðri í jólaösinni. En við byrjum á jólabókaflóðinu. Tónlist úr þættinum: Simon and Garfunkel - The only living boy in New York. Stevens, Sufjan - Come on let's boogey to the elf dance. Boygenius - Powers.

Spanners, Trumpets and Stevens get the off-season festivities started by putting the teams and drivers ‘25 season under the microscope in this, the latest episode of Missed Apex Podcast! ⭐Missed Apex Tik Tokhttps://www.tiktok.com/@missedapexf1⭐ Spanners https://x.com/SpannersReadyhttps://bsky.app/profile/spannersready.bsky.social⭐ Matt Trumpets https://x.com/mattpt55https://bsky.app/profile/mattpt55.bsky.socialWays To Support Missed Apex:✅ Join our Patreon to gain access to our exclusive Patreon Only Discord Chat + Bonus ContentWe Only Exist Due to Our Patron Support https://www.patreon.com/MissedApex✅ Leave a tip https://missedapexpodcast.com/tipjarOn Tonight's Show:⭐Missed Apex Tik Tokhttps://www.tiktok.com/@missedapexf1⭐ Spanners https://x.com/SpannersReadyhttps://bsky.app/profile/spannersready.bsky.social⭐ Matt Trumpets https://x.com/mattpt55https://bsky.app/profile/mattpt55.bsky.social⭐ Chris Stevens https://x.com/ChrisOnRacinghttps://www.instagram.com/chrisonracing/Give Stevens show reel some love! Or book him for your thing!https://loudspeakeragency.com/talent/chris-stevens/https://www.instagram.com/p/DONlD-Lghyd/?igsh=MXh1OWhrcGZvamRvbA==Come watch our iRacing Series with Spanners on comms!https://youtube.com/live/U4qkMR_GLuE?feature=shareCheck out Missed Apex Tik Tok!!!! https://www.tiktok.com/@missedapexf1 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

#podcast #progressive #politics #Michigan #Democrats #Republicans #MAGA #Trump #BigTech #DataCenters #CorporateGreed #CorporateCorruption #CorporateWelfare #GovernmentCorruption #WorkingClass #Whitmer #GovernorWhitmer #MattHall #HaleyStevens #MalloryMcMorrow #AbdulElSayed #Populism #Election2026 #MichiganAdvance #Authoritarianism #Democracy #SherroneMoore #LeftOfLansing 00:00-15:05: UofM Football/Whitmer Embraces Trump/Populist Uprising Pat Johnston starts by talking about the firing of Michigan Head Football Coach Sherrone Moore, and how power and greed corrupts everywhere, including college football. Then, he shares how MAGA Republicans are recycling the failed Health Savings Account idea that'll hurt millions of working class Americans. Michigan Democratic Congresswoman Haley Stevens brings Articles of Impeachment for HHS Robert Kennedy Jr., but Pat explains how that serves no good purpose. 15:06-39:40: Jon King, Michigan Advance Editor in-Chief Michigan Advance Editor In-Chief Jon King talks with Pat about his recent column on how Michigan Democratic Governor's strange embrace of Big Tech data centers is tarnishing her once solid working class bona fides. Pat and John talk about Whitmer's sudden switch for Whitmer who's gone from "That Woman From Michigan" to one of Dear Leader Trump's favorite Democrats. And they talk about the ramifications of next year's Michigan Democratic Senate primary race.  39:41-46:25: Last Call on MI Dem Senate Race In this week's "Last Call," Pat shares what he believes will be the three main issues that'll dominate next year's Michigan Democratic Senate Primary race. 46:26-48:23: Ending Please, subscribe to the podcast, download each episode, and give it a good review if you can! leftoflansing@gmail.com Left of Lansing is now on YouTube as well! leftoflansing.com NOTES: "Whitmer's data center enthusiasm will undo her record of putting the people of Michigan first." By Jon King of Michigan Advance "Howell Township board OKs 6-month data center moratorium; opponents say it exempts current plan." By Ben Solis & Jon King of Michigan Advance "Whitmer-ordered report links Trump's tariffs to rising prices and slower growth across Michigan." By Jon King of Michigan Advance "McMorrow slams Stevens' impeachment bid, injecting fire into Michigan's U.S. Senate primary." By Ben Solis of Michigan Advance "Hall, Bollin defend vote halting $645M in spending as Democrats decry ‘untransparent' process." By Katherine Dailey of Michigan Advance "Michigan's governor replaces clean energy advocate on utilities board with ‘industry ally.'" By Tom Perkins of The Guardian "It's time for Democrats to play offense on healthcare." By Dr. Abdul El-Sayed in The Guardian "RFK Jr.'s vaccine panel weakens recommendation on hepatitis B shot for babies, scrapping universal guidance." By Annika Kim Constantino of CNBC Politico Interview with Trump on Economy (via Fact Post on X) Photo of Governor Whitmer courtesy of Anna Liz Nichols of Michigan Advance.

Servicing Foxx Inc: Part 6 Free Use Friday Jayce roams the building, initiating public sex acts, while the ladies pretend he s not there. By PtmcPilot listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories. I awoke earlier than normal on Friday morning, eager to get to Foxx Inc so as not to miss out on even a minute. I was sitting in the entrance waiting area, attired in a suit and tie and sporting a nametag bearing 'Jayce', a good fifteen minutes before anyone else arrived. Shortly past 0 700 I got an email from Ms Olson. It was titled 'Friday.' Opening it I found everyone but myself was bcc'd. It was a short note that simply read "FuF rules are confirmed and in effect until C O B today. Those not wishing to passively participate are required to avoid potential situations or exit as needed." I wasn't entirely sure what that last part meant, but given I was definitely not the passive participant for today, it clearly did not apply to me. I sat in the large room with a notepad and a coffee. As women arrived, I took note of who was wearing black or blue. The first to arrive in a black dress was Ms Cartwright from accounting. I moved to stand in front of her and she stopped, staring right past me. I lifted her secondary badge, noted the tri-graphs, and stepped back out of her way. It was almost like I had briefly put her in a trance. Over the next hour I repeated this procedure a total of four more times. Five women had decided to play, and my first task was to initiate the game. List in hand, I made my way to Ms Maddox' office. I found her sitting at her desk, apparently checking email. I walked up behind her and unbuttoned her blouse before sliding it off her shoulders. I then unhooked and removed her bra before spending a good couple of minutes kneading her breasts and sucking at her nipples. Then I threw her bra into my bag and left her office. I repeated this scene four more times, or actually three, because one of the women was already without a bra when I found her. Cindy from I T, who I knew as 'Ms Velma', was sitting in her office having a discussion with another woman who I noticed was not wearing black. Ms Velma, however, was wearing a purple sweater and a black skirt. "Amanda I really don't know what to tell you," Ms Velma said. The other woman, who I knew as Amanda Stevens from operations, seemed a bit surprised to see me before realizing what was about to happen and she stood up. Ms Velma said, "Amanda, where are you going? Don't you want to talk about this?" Ms Stevens looked at me, back at Ms Velma, and meekly retook her seat. I tried to ignore her as I lifted Ms Velma's sweater to find her big triple D tits already bare, and her nips rapidly hardening. I immediately started to knead them, latching on aggressively to the taut buds atop her tits. Ms Stevens cleared her throat, then said, "It's just that Jane isn't pulling her weight and it's dragging down my team." Ms Velma moaned as I gave her breasts my full attention, and I stole a look at Ms Stevens, who appeared equal parts shocked, embarrassed, and turned on by the scene before her. My mission here accomplished, I reluctantly let go of her very large and soft tits and walked to the door. I noted she was resuming her discussion as she pulled down her sweater, every bit in character like nothing had just happened. Having finished the opening phase of today's game with some luscious breast play, I headed back to my office to finalize my plans. The list of participants consisted of the following women: Ms Maddox, Ms Velma, Ms Cartwright, Mandy Thomas (who I called Ms Mandy after another crazy introduction), and Ms Jenkins. I checked the schedules for the various women, and it didn't take me long to decide that Ms Jenkins, our on-site nurse, would be my first of the day. She was on site once or twice a week, and our paths had not crossed since my first day at the firm. On that occasion she'd coaxed a sizable sperm sample from me, later telling Ms Olson that she was disappointed she hadn't been able to 'collect' that ejaculation with her mouth. In my mind I relived the exam from that day and soon enough found myself hard and ready to go. It only seemed fair to deliver what was likely to be my biggest load of the day to the nurse who had waited so patiently to receive it. Arriving at her office, I found her in discussion with another woman I recognized, but one who was not on today's, er, agenda. Ms Jenkins was seated behind her desk, and from the few seconds of conversation I gathered they were consulting on something. However, upon seeing me enter the room, the other woman excused herself, "Angela, if it's okay with you, I'll come back a little later to finish this." Ms Jenkins nodded, "Certainly Sarah, my calendar's up to date." And with that Ms Reese (Angela) stood and left the office without so much as a glance in my direction. Ms Jenkins locked her desktop and picked up an iPad. Suddenly struck by the idea of a CFNM fantasy, I removed all my clothes, placing them on the empty chair vacated by Ms Reese. I then lifted her blouse to play with her titties as I put her hand on my swiftly stiffening cock. Staying in character, she didn't look at me or say anything, but she did lick her hand to provide some lubrication as she started to stroke me. I was struck by another inspiration, and I pulled away from her briefly to rifle the drawers and find some lube. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for, and then I took her other hand from the iPad and squeezed some lube on her fingers. I placed her fingers up against my ass, and without acknowledging me, she continued to look past me as she slowly worked a finger into me and started to massage my prostate. I figured if I was going to give her a load, I ought to do my best to make it worth her while. Though I was enjoying having my hands full of her breasts as she stroked me, that wasn't what I was after. Taking a fist full of hair at the back of her head, I guided her mouth to me. She still didn't say anything, but she did start to lick and suck me. After a few minutes I let go of her hair and again filled both hands with her breasts, squeezing her nipples as I did. She was breathing more heavily around my cock, and her fingers were working their magic on my prostate. It was the beginning of the day, and I didn't see any reason to keep the lady waiting. Through moans and groans, I let her know I was getting close, and then at exactly the right time she powerfully stroked my frenulum with her tongue, and I exploded in her mouth with my hands still groping her tits. It was a very strong orgasm and it continued for a good amount of time. Satisfied I had delivered on that debt, I let the Ms Jenkins slowly nurse my softening cock until I was sure she had swallowed everything I could offer. Breathing heavily, I eventually pulled out of her mouth and moved away from her penetrating fingers. Redressing, I left her sitting with her breasts still bare, one hand sloppy with lube, and a belly full of my come. It was a good start to the day. She was smiling as I walked out. Back in the office, there were some things that needed attention. A couple of services contracts, an email or two from the boss ladies, and a quick shower to reset my playing field for the next appointment of the day. At that moment Ms Velma was prominent in my mind, and it didn't take long to realize I really wanted to make good use of her huge titties before lunch. I waited a little more than an hour before making my way to the IT offices. Ms Velma was in her office, sitting on her couch moving through something on her iPad at ridiculous speed. I went over to her, lay down and put my head on her lap before lifting her sweater and commencing to feast on her titties. Squeezing, kneading, tweaking, sucking and licking, it was a boob lovers paradise, and her sweater puppies were quite off the chart. After some time, she sat the device down and leaned back into the couch. At this point you could assume she was staying in character and just relaxing for a bit, except for the nearly continuous sighs and moans my efforts were eliciting. A glance at the clock told me I'd been mauling her tits for over fifteen minutes. I unbuckled my trousers, withdrew my hard dick, and she started to stroke me as soon as I placed her hand on it. I let her continue until her strokes became more insistent, then I at last disengaged from her breasts and stood. Bending her over the end of the couch, I tossed her skirt up onto her back and guided myself into her thoroughly wet snatch. She groaned as I bottomed out, then I took her big titties in both hands, took firm grip of her nipples, and began to pound her into tomorrow. I've mentioned Ms Velma is a thicc lady, and I knew the fucking I was delivering wasn't bothering her in the least. Quite to the contrary, as my efforts were rewarded with all manner of grunts and groans which were quite out of character for today. Not that I minded. A few minutes later she made a squeak, slapped the arm of the couch, gripped it firmly, and started to twitch. My work accomplished, I joined her straightaway, pumping her full with my second delivery of the day. Once finished, I remained inside her for a couple minutes, enjoying the feel of her for a bit longer. But at last I had to go, and I nonchalantly redressed, noting she was still bent over the couch as I left her office. After a quick shower I pondered lunch and my next, ah, delivery. I emailed Ms Mandy and asked her about her lunch plans. To her credit, she didn't ask me why. She replied quickly that she would be in the second floor break room having some leftovers around 11 hundred. That gave me about an hour to freshen up, hydrate, and relive the first time I got to enjoy Ms Mandy. It was a couple of weeks ago when Ms Olson told me I would getting a special visit. What that meant was the dynamic duo of Mandy and Candy. Both unicorns: single, bisexual women who happened to also be quite attractive. I'll tell the story another time, but what's important to know is the memory of those two that afternoon, and Mandy's snapping cunt, had me on my way to hard even after two great climaxes. Shortly after 11 hundred I sauntered into the break room on the second floor to find, unsurprisingly, both Mandy and Candy. But to my surprise, Ms Candy was now sporting black slacks, which she hadn't been earlier. She was also wearing black lipstick and chewing what appeared to be half a pack of bubbleyum. As I entered neither woman looked at me, though Ms Candy was smiling and licking her lips. I turned and locked the door. Ms Candy said, "Why'd you lock the door?" Ms Mandy shrugged and took another bite of her lunch, which smelled great. "I thought we might want to have a private discussion." Candy nodded and smiled. "I was going to get lunch in the cafe later. What did you want to talk about?" Mandy shrugged, "I'm sure we'll think of something." During this brief exchange, I had lifted Mandy to her feet, removed her skirt (no panties), and took off my slacks as well. I left Mandy standing and moved to Candy. She needed no guidance to take my nearly stiff cock in her mouth. Like many women in the firm, she was a practiced and enthusiastic fellatrix. I reached over and pinched Mandy's nipples. She said, "Were you thinking of a protein drink?" Candy pulled off me momentarily to reply, "I was kind of hoping for that, but sometimes you can't get what you want." Mandy bent and took another bite as I twisted a nipple. She inhaled sharply, then let it out slowly. "Too true. I brought this but I'm still hoping for a nice warm sausage." Now that I was hard, I turned Mandy's chair around and sat in it, then pulled her down on my cock. She was now facing Candy and mounting me astride. I now turned my efforts to snacking on her nipples. Mandy had smallish breasts, but the most important thing to me was partner responsiveness. Her nips were like tiny pink eraser tips, and they were connected directly to the orgasm center of her brain. Candy asked, "Care to share if you do?" As I licked and tugged Mandy's nipples with my teeth and tongue, and she clamped down hard on my dick. When she wanted to, she had the tightest cunt ever. I began slowly bouncing Mandy on my cock as I continued my attention to her nips. Candy cleared her throat, "You know I can tell when you're doing Kegels, right?" Pinching one nipple and sucking and nibbling the other, Mandy forgot about her lunch. She moaned rather obviously, and said, "Never a, ugh, bad time for exercise. Mmm." Having already climaxed twice, I was feeling somewhat in control, though it wasn't easy with Mandy unpredictably squeezing my cock with an insane rippling sensation. Sometimes on the way up, sometimes on the way down. But through it all I kept firm control of her nipples. I could not see Candy, but the smacking of the gum stopped and I heard her chair back up. "Well, seeing as you locked the door to do your, um, exercises over lunch, you make me want to help." I looked up to see Candy lean down and take Mandy's face in her hands and land a solid lip lock on her. The two of them moaned and Candy slid a hand down Mandy's belly and right to her clit. The combined effect was to push Mandy right over the edge. And then it happened a second and third time. At the end of this the constant vigorous Kegel massage of my dick had me right on the edge. I lifted Mandy clear of my cock, and as it slapped against my belly I guided Candy right to it. No sooner was I in her mouth than I erupted. Maybe it was the whole scene, but I felt like I came a bucket. When Candy finished sucking me dry, she immediately kissed Mandy, "Always great to meet for lunch," she said. Guiding Mandy to her still unsteady feet, I started to redress. "What do you know," she began,"we both got what we were looking for." I unlocked the door and started to exit. Another woman, Jenny Soo, was there. I pulled the door shut behind me. "They'll need a minute." Her gaze shifted from me, to the door, and back to me. She nodded then turned away. I stopped in the cafe on the way back to my office, aware that I no doubt smelled of sex but with too much of an appetite to really care. I got a sandwich from the grab 'n go and returned to my office. I was surprised to find Ms Olson sitting on my couch. I noted she, at least, had not changed attire. She gave me her trademark cat got the canary grin, and said, "My sources tell me you are having quite the day. What's your view?" I sat down, took out two bottles of water and started to unwrap my lunch. I returned her look with my best version of it. "I have to say, the whole scenario is a hell of a turn on." She smirked, "You have what, two to go?" She looked at her watch, "And more than four hours to do it." I swallowed a big bite, "Two, yes, if no one changes their mind." An eyebrow rose, she said, "I see my sources are somewhat lacking, Mr Jeffries." She leaned forward, her blouse falling away to give another awesome view. "Care to let me know?" "I met Ms Mandy and Ms Candy for lunch. Well, in their words, Mandy had a warm sausage and Candy had to, ah, settle, for a protein shake." "The minx," she said, still smiling as she stood. "Enjoy the rest of the day." As the door closed behind her I said to myself, "Not possible not to." The sandwich, which would have certainly been average on any other day, was awesome after the exertions of the morning. I again showered, dressed, and took a nap with my alarm set for 14 hundred. Ms Cartwright had a workout in her future. Shortly after 14 hundred I walked into her office, where she appeared to have just started a meeting with another woman. I went over, took her hand and guided her to her feet. "Jenny, where are you going?" The woman asked. "Uh, urgent restroom break. We can reschedule," Ms Cartwright replied as we walked out of her office. Oh, I may have neglected to tell you about the new tri-graph I found on her badge this morning. All by itself were the three letters "SOB." I was sure I'd never seen it before, and a quick check on the intranet site confirmed that. This new one, which stood for "Sex Object," had been added only yesterday. Now, you may be thinking "Sex Object" was what's been happening all day to that point, but not quite. I walked her to my office, whereupon she stayed right where I left her. After closing the door, I slowly removed her clothes and hung them in my closet. I left my shirt on, but removed my slacks and shoes. I laid a towel on my couch and led her to her knees in front of that spot. I sat down in front of her and guided her mouth to my only half stiff cock. I put her hands behind her back and fondled her breasts as she started to suck me. While she typically wanted me to fuck her face, I figured the SOB wouldn't mind doing something she typically didn't opt for. As she worked me with her tongue, I sat back and checked emails. Yes, I do believe this is the best way to perform that task. She was active, bobbing her head, licking the length of my shaft, flicking her tongue against my frenulum, and doing a good number of other things I couldn't quite pin down. I let her continue until I felt I could actually come, then I stood and led her over to sit on the couch. I put her ass right on the edge, then lifted her legs to put her knees against her shoulders. Putting her elbows under her knees to hold her legs back, she surprised me by almost putting her feet behind her head. Then I slid her hands downward and had her hold her labia spread wide. If you search for 'Viennese oyster' you should get a decent visual. While I had planned to just dive in, after all I was interested in enjoying her enjoying herself as well, presented as such with a nice wet cunt, I plunged my cock into her instead. Up until now she'd been staring straight ahead, no acknowledgement of what we were doing. But as I slammed into her, her eyes rolled and she let out a low moan. I fucked her hard, for about three or four minutes, until I felt I was close. Time for some oyster. I pulled out and immediately dropped to my knees and pushed my face against her as hard as I could so I could get my tongue as deep as possible. I added a couple of fingers (this position makes her g-spot nicely accessible), and proceeded to give her a thorough tongue lashing. However, I paused regularly to keep her from coming. After several minutes I stopped, stood, and rearranged her so that she was in a kind of fetal position but with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her cunt and ass were again nicely accessible. Using a soft touch I had her close her eyes and I went to get something from my desk. Rejoining her, I inserted the lube applicator into her ass without preamble. She groaned as I did. Dropping it on the floor I pushed my not quite fully had cock back into her cunt and started to fuck her slowly and deeply. I figured this would get both of us close, but not to the finish. Soon enough, she was moaning with desire and frustration, and I was fully hard and starting to get close. A few more strokes in her cunt and I hit that point where I knew I was going to come. At once I pulled out of her cunt and all but slammed into her ass. I came a couple of strokes later, grunting in satisfaction, and barking out "fuck!" as I pumped her full. Her own groan, and delightfully clenching asshole, signaled she was right there with me. I waited until I was nearly soft before withdrawing and going into the washroom to clean up. When I came out and started to dress, she was still in position on the couch. I led her to her feet, had her open her eyes, which definitely said "Umm," and slapped her ass to move her toward the closet. She took her clothes and went into the washroom. I was at my desk when she came out a little while later, walked over to me, and planted a full open mouth kiss on me for what must have been a full minute. As she broke the kiss I reached down her blouse and pinched a nipple, for which I was rewarded with squeak. "Bad SOB," I said with a smile. She gave me an appraising look, then a long wink, and then she turned to go. I checked the time, 14 30. Making it back to stature by 16 hundred for Ms Maddox was going to be a challenge, but then something occurred to me. Smiling to myself I knocked back a bottle of water and some pineapple juice, then took to the couch for a nap before my last call. Ms Cartwright might not be done for the day after all. I awakened instantly to my alarm, a behavior deeply ingrained by a few years on board ship. Unless I was physically unable to do so, a loud noise, alarm or such would bring me fully alert in a moment. Really bad things like fires might be rare on subs, but shit can, and does, happen. It was 16 15 and Ms Maddox was on the menu as the last course of the day. I'd only been with her twice, the first being a romp in the gym when I didn't even know who she was. She was tall, athletic, toned, and could be a dynamo when she wanted to. I hadn't intended for her to be last, though to be fair someone had to be. Not having much of a plan, I tussled my hair, straightened my clothes and left my office. First stop was Ms Cartwright's office, just in case a fluffer proved necessary. SOB collected, we walked to Ms Maddox's office. I had my potential sex aid stand beside the office door, and the nearby executive assistant looked up at her, and said, "Do you need to see the boss, Jenny?" She shook her head, then said, "Nope, I'm just going to hang out here in case I'm needed." "Needed for what, exactly?" Jenny, Ms Cartwright, just shrugged and stayed in place. I went into the office. Inside I found Ms Maddox pacing her carpet angrily. Her fists were clenched, and upon hearing the door click she spun, no doubt to demand the exit of the intruder. However, her gaze swept over me and her features instantly, and only momentarily, relaxed. After all, there really wasn't an intruder. She turned her head and pushed her hair back, showing me a Bluetooth earpiece, which currently displayed a blue light. Her fists clenched again and she tapped the device and the light went dark. "I don't care how badly your company wants to prime the Escher opportunity, Carol, don't go up against us on this one. You'll lose." Well, the boss lady was keyed up. Time to get to work. She was wearing a black skirt, which I removed as she continued to have her high tense discussion with the other party. Hanging it in the closet, I looked around her office until I found her workout gear and then a small towel. I placed this across  the middle of her desk in front of her chair, then cleared a few things from the opposite side. As I guided her up onto the desk and sat her bare ass on the towel, I recall her ending the phone call with, "If that's your final decision Carol, remember, there's no I in team, but there is a 'u' in fuck." She actually said this last bit quite calmly, which was probably disorienting on the other end. I sat in the chair in front of her and put her feet up on the arms. "Damn it," she spat. "Jackie," she yelled, "get Carlton on the line." I hadn't had the chance to go down on Ms Maddox the last time we'd been together, so I stroked the inside of her thighs as I examined her cunt. She was an outie, with, in my experience, longer than average labia and a prominent, though perhaps not exactly large, clit. As I took her lips between my fingers and started to move them back and forth to stroke her clit, she moaned heavily and rested back on her elbows. This had the added effect of giving me even better access. Boss lady was always in control, but when I licked her clit she suddenly reacted out of character, "Shit!" she yelped. Then she said, "Oh, sorry Bill. I managed to stub my toe right as we were connected." After a couple of minutes her clit was a solid nub, maybe half an inch long, and it was too good a target to pass up. Pulling her labia wide to pull on it, I put my lips around her clit and slid them down, slowly moving my tongue against her. Somehow she didn't make a noise, but her right hand beat against her desk. I was stroking her entrapped clit with my tongue as her conversation continued. Then she gave me a slight tap on the head and I looked up. She gave me a 'pause gesture', and I let go of her bits. She smiled, and was nodding as she tapped her earpiece again. "Thanks for that Bill," she said, "We're ready to discuss being exclusive on Escher." She laughed, "Of course I was just on the phone with her, weren't you?" Seeing that I had a moment or two, I noticed I wasn't close to hard enough to service her. Time for SOB round two for backup. I lifted Ms Maddox's legs from the chair, stood up and put her legs back down. I went to the door, standing to the side so no one saw me, and reached for Ms Cartwright. I took hold of her arm and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her. As I led her to and then under the desk, she didn't react and remained a good SOB. I sat back down in the chair, had Ms Cartwright take me in her mouth to start her fluffer action, and positioned Ms Maddox for her finale. I was stroking her inner thighs, quite high up, still careful to stay away from her actual bits. I felt myself responding nicely to the blowjob I was getting, and smiled to myself at the number of threesomes I had suddenly been part of. "Bill," the boss lady said, "that's great. Let's go win this thing." Then she tapped me on the head again, and this time I nodded. Again I sucked her clit into my mouth, trapping it firmly between my lips and teeth. Putting my hands on her hips, I decided to continue, focused exclusively on her clit. Moving my tongue on her over and over, and stroking her bud with my lips, I could tell by her tensing and fidgeting that she was getting close. That was good, because I was now fully hard, and my fellatrix was going for the prize I intended to give Ms Maddox. A few more strokes and Ms Maddox went rigid for a good ten seconds before her clit started to throb and then she let out a powerful grunt as she came. I continued my effort until those throbs became less powerful, then shifted to slightly stroking her. When at last I felt her breathing was near normal again, I went back to aggressively pleasuring her clit. Her breathing accelerated at once and I knew she was close. Pulling out of Ms Cartwright's mouth, I pushed back the chair, stood up and thrust myself fully into Ms Maddox. She grunted as I bottomed out, and her breathing picked right back up as I fucked her fast and furious. I hoped she was close, because I didn't think I had many minutes of hardon left for the afternoon. Knowing I was close, I reached between us and tugged on her clit. She came a moment later, her clit pulsing between my fingers and her cunt clenching at my cock. I groaned and started to shoot my fifth load of the day into her. I fucked her through our mutual orgasms, then slowed and finally stopped, still enjoying being inside her. At last she gave me a signal to withdraw, and I helped her to her feet and she went to her washroom. I reached under the table, pulled Ms Cartwright out and to her feet to find her quite flushed. I guided her to the door and ushered her out with a squeeze of her ass. I redressed and left the office before Ms Maddox re-emerged. Returning to my office, I sank down in the chair and took a long drink of water. I realized the whole weekend might be needed to process the events of the day. It was just before 17 hundred when the four ladies came for their bras. One by one they came in, held out a hand for said garment, and left with it. Next to last was Ms Maddox, who gave me a kiss as well. "What a fabulous way to start off the weekend," she said. Last was my SOB, Ms Cartwright. But she didn't follow the others. She came in, locked the door, and sat down. "Now that it's after hours, I'd like to talk." I wasn't sure where this was going, but I had a suspicion; though I couldn't tell you why. "About?" I asked. "You, today, all of that." she said with a leer. "Something wrong?" I asked. She smiled, "Quite the opposite. I thought you played today perfectly, even if the last part left me high and, eh, wet." "Thanks, I;" "You always play me perfectly," she interrupted. "And that's what I want to talk about." "Jenny, trust me, I had no idea what I was doing. I just went along with every part." "And still it was awesome!" I just nodded, still not sure where she was going with this. "I have a proposition for you," she said with a grin. When I didn't respond she said, "Join me for a full weekend?" I thought about it for a moment and decided that might not be a good idea, "You know I think you're awesome, but that's here at Foxx Inc. Outside would be different, and might make things weird at work." She looked disappointed, but not upset. "So that's it then?" "Not 'it', and not forever. But certainly for today, for now," I said. And then, to my great relief, she smiled, squared her shoulders and stood up. "Ok Tom, challenge accepted for the next time." "Challenge?" I asked. She winked, "I'll get you to spend a weekend with me sometime, mister." Then she left. I sat in my chair, wondering what the next, right move was with her, when a couple of minutes later, the door clicked and in walked Ms Olson. This time, like many others, just a step short of a walking dream. "Tom, how are you?" Before I could reply she added, "What did Jenny want to talk about in private?" I wasn't sure how she knew the door had been locked, but I didn't bother to dishevel. "She wanted to continue the fun over the weekend." She crossed her legs, holding her top knee in her hands, "Really? Well, color me surprised." She paused, watching me like an antelope at the watering hole. "And why did you say no?" Rather than acknowledge her seeming ability to read my mind at times, I shrugged and said, "It would be fun, but it sounded too, well, off the books." "So you thought about agreeing for some time?" "For a time, I was tempted by her offer," I said, wondering if Ashley would get the reference. "How much time?" she replied, quite to my surprise. "Actually, zero point six eight seconds." Ashley guffawed, then snorted, then waved a hand wildly at me for a few seconds before she collected herself enough to say and laugh at the same time, "You're no Data!" I laughed with her for a good minute, and then as we calmed down, she gave me a hug and kiss. "Tom, would you like to spend the weekend with someone?" My expression must have given me away, and she smiled quickly and touched my arm, "No Tom, I don't mean me, though I find it quite flattering that you would think so. Go home, and when there is a knock at your door, make up your own mind." I returned her hug, "Thanks Ashley." "You bet. And no obligations. Two consenting adults and all that," she said. Then she broke the embrace and departed. I arrived home about thirty minutes later, finished off the one beer I typically let myself have, and about an hour after that, I was just starting to think about dinner when there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a brown haired woman of my height on the doorstep with a bag in her hand. She looked familiar, and after a moment I recognized her, though I did not know her name. She'd never been in the rotation. I backed away and held the door wide, "Would you like to come in?" She regarded me with kind eyes, nodded, and entered, dropping her bag near the door, which I shut behind her. She turned and looked at me, "You don't know my name, do you?" "No, but to be fair I work with a lot of people." "You've been there long enough to know everyone." "That's true, I admit. In my defense, you've never been on the, uh, schedule, and we've never talked." Suddenly, two pieces of data about her clicked. "You're Melissa Johnston." "Mel, Johnson," she corrected. Then looked quizzically at me, "how did you;" "There are only a few women at the firm not in the, ah, rotation," I started. "Though no one ever talks about the reasons." She was still looking at me, her eyes unchanged, "But do you know my reason?" "You're engaged," I said. "I'm certain relationship status doesn't affect your job, does it Tom?" she asked coolly. "I can only assume the engagement is the reason you aren't in the rotation, I'll never ask. Everyone who decides to, ah, play, does so of their own volition. You yourself are a good example. No one ever should ask why others choose to play or not." "You don't think they talk about it?" she asked with a sharp note in her voice. I shook my head, "I've never heard one person question why another did or did not join in. And everyone discusses the PBS arrangement pretty freely. Seems to me it is very much up to the individual." She gave me a small smile, "Okay Tom, then here it is." She turned from me, walked a bit, then turned back, "I was engaged, for several months. I thought we were exclusive until my fianc proved me wrong. Now, instead of having someone to come home to every day, I've been sick and lonely for a month. A month! And it sucks!"  I said nothing and let her continue, and after a few moments she did, "I'm not looking for a fucking replacement, but it would be nice to enjoy a weekend with someone and not feel like I was going to get screwed over for doing so!" And then she started to sob, and I wondered what the fuck Ashley had been thinking. And then I realized Ashely knew exactly what the hell she'd been up to. I took Mel in my arms and gave her a hug. "I would really like someone too," I said and we both giggled. "While screwing your coworkers is a lot of fun, it makes for lonely weekends." She sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked up at me, "Lonely? Really?" I shrugged, "Well, maybe more restful and lonely than just lonely." She laughed, nodded, then gave me a brief kiss on the cheek. "I didn't come here looking for sex." "And I don't expect it. So what do you say to ordering some food, watching a movie or two, and going to bed with a comfortable presence that doesn't have expectations?" "Thai?" She suggested. "Nah, Lebanese?" I rejoined. She sneered, "Korean?" I shook my head. "Pizza?" She smiled; Meatlovers!  And with that I called my favorite joint. We watched two movies, and snuggled up in bed without a hint of sex and got a great night's sleep. Which is not to say the rest of the weekend stayed completely platonic. By PtmcPilot for Literotica

Stevens Roundtable: Empowering Employee Ideas with Brittany Bemben Tim Cicciarelli and Brittany Bemben, VP of Information Technology & Innovation, discuss Project Ascend, an initiative at Stevens Transport aimed at gathering employee ideas to improve efficiency and reduce costs. Brittany, the VP of Information Technology and Innovation, explains the importance of employee input and the process for submitting ideas. The conversation emphasizes that no idea is too small or too big, encouraging a culture of innovation within the organization. Team Driving Discover the transformative world of team driving with Stevens Transport in this insightful discussion. Learn how driving with a partner boosts efficiency, earning potential, and safety, while allowing for nearly constant travel and the enjoyment of America's stunning landscapes. Understand how federal regulations intersect with teamwork logistics, enabling over 5,500 miles a week. Insights on rest strategies, like bunk bed sleeping arrangements, are shared. Stevens Transport explains the advantages of choosing your driving partner and how this approach can elevate your trucking career. Explore team driving's benefits and start your journey to success now. Earn More/Team Up - https://vimeo.com/1020240977 Driver Spotlight:  Dinel Fradestin Meet Dinel Fradestin, a Stevens Transport Independent Contractor originally from Haiti and currently living in Florida. On his first day at Stevens Transport, he was nervous, but confident he was ready to change his life. He knew Stevens was the answer. As he says, "I never gave up," and now he has proudly completed his first lease completion. See the video here: https://youtu.be/wdNxvJt5W5c?si=DwVe5zwwFeJCEqHa December 2025 News Bulletin Project Ascend has officially launched at Stevens Transport! This new initiative empowers employees to submit cost-saving ideas, and if your improvement is implemented, you'll earn a cash reward. In other exciting news, Eric Miller has been promoted to Driving Academy Director, and Tyricko Duckett has stepped into the role of Lead Instructor. Tune in for more updates and December news! See the video here: https://youtu.be/b9KOYlSG6oY?si=r_7DdtBoUzptxfXR Become a Driver for Stevens Transport For questions on whether you meet our driver qualifications, please call our Recruiting Department at 1-800-333-8595 or visit: www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/ Stevens Transport 9757 Military Parkway, Dallas, TX 75227 http://www.stevenstransport.com/ http://www.becomeadriver.com/ Driver Recruiting: 1-800-333-8595.  Apply Here: https://intelliapp2.driverapponline.com Paragon Leasing Technician Careers: https://www.stevenstransport.com/careers/fleet-maintenance-jobs/

The AFC East is up for grabs Sunday as the Bills travel to Foxborough to take on the New England Patriots. "Fitzy" Stevens from WEEI in Boston tells us how Pats fans are feeling and a little bit about the team ahead of Sunday's game.

In this episode, the Angie and Stevens reflect on their Thanksgiving experiences and share personal news, including a special announcement from Angie!! They dive into Psalm 139, discussing themes of God's omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence, emphasizing the comfort and love found in God's knowledge of us. The conversation also touches on the importance of self-reflection and the struggle against sin, concluding with a call to seek God's guidance in our lives.Give Now: www.christalonenetwork.com/giveFeatured Ad: www.renewedmindsets.comQuestions/Suggestions: www.christalonenetwork.com/contactPrayer Request: www.christalonenetwork.com/prayerImmediate Contact: call/text 407-796-2881

Interview with Chris Stevens, CEO, Coda MineralsOur previous interview: https://www.cruxinvestor.com/posts/coda-minerals-asxcod-95-recovery-rate-transforms-copper-project-into-tier-1-asset-7833Recording date: 2nd December 2025As global copper markets confront a widening supply deficit, Australian junior Coda Minerals is positioning its Elizabeth Creek Copper-Silver Project as a potential solution to what CEO Chris Stevens describes as an industry crisis. Located in South Australia adjacent to BHP's Carrapateena operation and near the world-class Olympic Dam mine, the project benefits from established infrastructure in a proven mining jurisdiction.The company's economics have transformed dramatically since initial studies. At conservative base case assumptions of $9,260 per tonne copper and $30 per ounce silver, Elizabeth Creek delivers an $855 million post-tax net present value with a 35% internal rate of return. However, with copper currently trading at $11,600 per tonne and silver reaching record levels near $59 per ounce, the post-tax NPV expands to $1.9 billion with a 60% IRR. This compares to Coda's current market capitalisation of approximately $40 million.A fundamental strategic shift underpins this enhanced profile. Coda abandoned its original copper-cobalt-silver flowsheet in favor of a simplified approach focusing exclusively on copper and silver through proven leaching technology. "If you can base the project fundamentally off two commodities with deep liquid markets, you're in a much better shape," Stevens explains. This eliminates the marketing and technical challenges associated with cobalt while employing methods used for roughly 20% of global copper production.With three drill rigs currently on site and a fully funded prefeasibility study targeting completion by end-2026, Coda is systematically de-risking a large, flat-lying orebody spanning 4.5 square kilometers. The recent $12.3 million capital raise was heavily oversubscribed, funding critical hydrogeology drilling, geotechnical work, and mine optimization studies.Stevens articulates the supply challenge starkly: "You need 30 Codas to replace an Escondida. Where are they coming from? Because there are not 30 Codas in Australia." With demand accelerating through electrification and data center expansion while legacy mines deplete, credibly-financed development projects in established jurisdictions occupy an increasingly strategic position in global copper supply chains.Learn more: https://www.cruxinvestor.com/companies/coda-minerals-ltdSign up for Crux Investor: https://cruxinvestor.com

In this episode of the Org Design Podcast, recorded live at the Organization Design Forum's Festival, hosts Tim Brewer and Amy Springer sit down with Robert Stevens, retired U.S. Navy officer turned federal org design leader. Robert shares how he discovered he'd been practicing org design long before he knew the name, and why true organizational change is about much more than “lines and boxes.” From uncovering hidden leadership gaps, to building communication plans that prevent confusion, to the power of simply listening—Robert provides practical insights drawn from decades of service and transformation work. Whether you're a first-time leader, a seasoned executive, or simply curious about how to make organizations truly work for people, this conversation is packed with lessons on authenticity, courage, and systems thinking. Robert L. Stevens https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-stevens-6aa476238/ Functionly https://www.linkedin.com/company/functionly https://www.functionly.com/ Org Design Podcast https://www.linkedin.com/company/orgdesignpodcast https://www.functionly.com/org-design-podcast Organization Design Forum - https://organizationdesignforum.org/

About the Guest Twyla Stevens is an accomplished HR executive with broad experience leading people strategies across national and international teams. As Chief Human Resources Officer at Professional Swine Management, she oversees talent acquisition, organizational development, compensation and benefits, and compliance initiatives. With expertise in workforce planning, leadership development, and change management, Twyla aligns HR strategy with business goals to drive organizational success. She holds a degree in Business Administration from Middle Tennessee State University, is a certified HR professional, and serves on the HR Advisory Board and the Sandburg Agriculture Advisory. What can you expect to learn from this episode of Popular Pig? Why real leadership starts with knowing yourself (your style, how you decide, and how you communicate). How a clear leadership path and training can turn nervous first-time leaders into confident managers. Simple ways to build trust and engagement every day (hands–heart–mind, first-day experience, being present). Practical habits you can put in place tomorrow, like quick standups and genuine check-ins with your team. How growing leaders from within cuts turnover, boosts promotions, and strengthens farm culture and performance.

Stevens Roundtable: Driving Into 2026 with Stability, Growth & Big Opportunities at Stevens Tim welcomes Executive Vice President Angela Horowitz to celebrate Stevens Transport's 45th anniversary and highlight the company's extraordinary stability and growth heading into 2026. Angela reflects on the company's humble beginnings and its rise to become the nation's third-largest privately held refrigerated carrier—without a single layoff in 45 years and while operating completely debt-free. She emphasizes the long-term security, weekly pay, and upward mobility Stevens offers both drivers and corporate employees, including career paths into operations, safety, training, maintenance, and leadership roles.Become a Team Driver Team Driving Discover the transformative world of team driving with Stevens Transport in this insightful discussion. Learn how driving with a partner boosts efficiency, earning potential, and safety, while allowing for nearly constant travel and the enjoyment of America's stunning landscapes. Understand how federal regulations intersect with teamwork logistics, enabling over 5,500 miles a week. Insights on rest strategies, like bunk bed sleeping arrangements, are shared. Stevens Transport explains the advantages of choosing your driving partner and how this approach can elevate your trucking career. Explore team driving's benefits and start your journey to success now. Earn More/Team Up - https://vimeo.com/1020240977 See the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svjv_WXl8Oc Inside the Stevens Contractor Program: A Roadmap to Wealth & Independence Angela Horowitz breaks down one of the most life-changing opportunities in the trucking industry: becoming an independent contracted driver with Stevens Transport. Angela explains how Stevens built a risk-free, no-credit-check, no-money-down pathway that allows drivers of all experience levels even those brand new to trucking to become successful business owners and even small-fleet operators. Whether you're dreaming of higher income, more freedom, or building a legacy for your family, this segment reveals why so many drivers call the program the "golden goose" of the trucking world. https://www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/contractor-division/ Participate in Project Ascend & Earn Big Angela Horowitz spotlights one of the most innovative initiatives in Stevens Transport's 45-year history: Project Ascend,  a company-wide program empowering every employee, contractor, and driver to submit cost-saving ideas that strengthen the entire organization. With reward payouts for ideas that are implemented and generate measurable savings, Project Ascend invites everyone from the corporate office to the fuel desk to the open roadto contribute, collaborate, and help Stevens reach its goal by the end of 2026. Become a Driver for Stevens Transport For questions on whether you meet our driver qualifications, please call our Recruiting Department at 1-800-333-8595 or visit: www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/ Stevens Transport 9757 Military Parkway, Dallas, TX 75227 http://www.stevenstransport.com/ http://www.becomeadriver.com/ Driver Recruiting: 1-800-333-8595.  Apply Here: https://intelliapp2.driverapponline.com Paragon Leasing Technician Careers: https://www.stevenstransport.com/careers/fleet-maintenance-jobs/

Who would've thought? As the Patriots head into their bye week, they're an NFL-best 11-2 and riding a 10-game win streak after Monday night's 33-15 win over the Giants. Nick ‘Fitzy' Stevens and Andy Hart break down the victory as New England's remarkable season rolls on. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Haltung annehmen, der ghanaische Nationalcoach ist zu Gast! Mit dem gebürtigen Hamburger geht's um die WM 2026, den HSV samt Kompany & Stevens, die Zeit bei Hannover 96 mit Kumpel Asamoah, Kloppo & Mainz und ja, auch ganz viel um Borussia Dortmund zwischen Meisterlust & Meisterfrust... Von Otto Addo /Constantin Kleine /Sven Pistor.

Stevens Roundtable: Project Ascend: Your Ideas, Your Impact, Your Reward In this week's Stevens Roundtable, Tim Cicciarelli talks with Serena Vogel, VP of Driver Resources, about Project Ascend, a new company-wide initiative inviting all Stevens Transport employees, drivers, and Paragon Leasing contractors to submit money-saving ideas that improve efficiency across the organization. Every submission is reviewed by a dedicated internal committee, and if an idea is implemented, the contributor can earn $1,500 to $25,000. Nothing is too big or too small—Serena emphasizes that even small savings matter, and this program strengthens communication, team involvement, and company morale. Project Ascend will now be featured weekly on the podcast, highlighting selected ideas and inviting contributors to share how they came up with them. Links, QR codes, and platform access will be available throughout the offices, trucks, and Platform Science so everyone can easily participate. Become a Team Driver Discover the transformative world of team driving with Stevens Transport in this insightful discussion. Learn how driving with a partner boosts efficiency, earning potential, and safety, while allowing for nearly constant travel and the enjoyment of America's stunning landscapes. Understand how federal regulations intersect with teamwork logistics, enabling over 5,500 miles a week. Insights on rest strategies, like bunk bed sleeping arrangements, are shared. Stevens Transport explains the advantages of choosing your driving partner and how this approach can elevate your trucking career. Explore team driving's benefits and start your journey to success now. Earn More/Team Up - https://vimeo.com/1020240977 Driver Spotlight: Cheryl Wilson Celebrate Stevens Transport driver Cheryl Wilson on her second lease completion and for being a dedicated trainer for the past four years! Hear more from Cheryl on how she started her truck driving journey with Stevens and the amazing opportunities that have come along the way. See the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svjv_WXl8Oc "From French Cuisine to 2 Million Miles: Meet Chef-Turned-Driver In this week's Driver Spotlight, Tim sits down with one of Stevens Transport's most colorful and accomplished drivers, Bob "Chili Head" Bethke, a two-time Hall of Fame inductee who has logged more than two million miles with the company. Bob shares why Stevens' compassion during a personal tragedy in 2007 made him a loyal driver for nearly two decades, and how a freak accident involving a deer, a rolled truck, and an unopened can of chili earned him his unforgettable nickname. A retired French-cuisine chef, Bob also talks about trading high-stress kitchens for life on the road, the dishes he still cooks for fellow drivers, and why trucking became the perfect second career. It's a heartfelt, hilarious, and inspiring look at one of Stevens' most unique individuals. No Money Down, No Credit Check: The Stevens Path to Ownership In this empowering segment, VP of Driver Resources Serena Vogel walks listeners through Stevens Transport's unmatched pathway for drivers who want to become owner-operators and build their own business without the usual barriers. Serena explains how Stevens provides no money down, no credit check, no-risk leases, along with full business training, bookkeeping help, maintenance advisors, and ongoing one-on-one coaching. Whether you're a current Stevens company driver or an experienced driver from outside the company, Stevens offers a proven model for starting and growing your own trucking business backed by 45 years of financial stability and more than $1.1 million in lease completion bonuses paid out this year alone. It's a low-risk, high-reward opportunity to take control of your income and your future in 2026. Pilot/Flying J Rewards App: https://pilotflyingj.com/rewards Become a Driver for Stevens Transport For questions on whether you meet our driver qualifications, please call our Recruiting Department at 1-800-333-8595 or visit: www.stevenstransport.com/drivers/ Stevens Transport 9757 Military Parkway, Dallas, TX 75227 http://www.stevenstransport.com/ http://www.becomeadriver.com/ Driver Recruiting: 1-800-333-8595.  Apply Here: https://intelliapp2.driverapponline.com Paragon Leasing Technician Careers: https://www.stevenstransport.com/careers/fleet-maintenance-jobs/

A lot of team leaders are trying to grow right now, but very few know how to scale without burning out, losing culture, or drowning in problems that show up the moment the business gets bigger. That tension is exactly where Lindsay Stevens built her strength. And the way she talks about these challenges will make every real estate leader stop and think.   On this episode of the GRIT Podcast, Brian Charlesworth sits down with Lindsay, co-owner and team leader of Stevens Real Estate, to uncover how she went from overwhelmed agent to running one of the fastest-growing teams in her market.    The twist is that none of it came from perfect planning. It came from saying yes to uncomfortable moments, including being thrown onto a five-thousand-person stage with one week to prepare. She also breaks down the discipline required to survive New York's long 120-day transaction cycle. It is the kind of cycle that forces leaders to either master their systems or get buried by them.   Lindsay talks about the seasons she had to fight through distractions, doubt, and long days that made her question whether she was even built for leadership. She shares a simple line that keeps her centered. "Life is hard. Real estate is hard. But the sun comes up tomorrow." It is the kind of line that hits differently when you hear the story behind it.   Brian and Lindsay also break down a moment that shifted their entire operation. Dialing in their Sisu stages, statuses, and tagging finally removed the chaos inside New York's long transaction cycle, and it changed the way their agents performed. As she puts it, "You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems."   Top Takeaways:   (2:23) Saying yes to a 5000-person stage (9:51) Breakthroughs after wanting to quit (12:02) CEO vs. team leader roles in a business (14:21) How Sisu rebuilt transaction flow (21:08) The power of proximity and fast execution (32:19) Scaling with leverage and a new COO (32:12) Working on the business, not in the business (37:58) Why systems come before 20 agents (38:28) Micro commitments and predictable wins in Sisu (42:21) AI as a business partner and coach (45:00) Why AI will not replace relationships in real estate   If you want an honest look at growth, leadership, and the real work behind building a strong team, this episode with Lindsay will pull you in from the first few minutes.   About Lindsay Stevens   Lindsay Stevens is a Hudson Valley native and co-founder of Stevens Realty Group, featured on HGTV's House Hunters. She led New Paltz as the top sales agent in 2017, 2018, and 2019 while growing the firm into a multi-million dollar real estate and property management company. With a background in Legal Studies and Business from UMass Amherst, she has worked in sales, marketing, and communications with companies like Edelman and Morgan Stanley. Lindsay is also a mother of two and an active runner who has deep roots in the Hudson Valley community.   Connect with Lindsay: LinkedIn

John welcomes former Republican consultant, Lincoln Project/Lincoln Square bigwig, and bestselling author Stuart Stevens back to the show to discuss Donald Trump's sudden political senescence. Stevens discusses the emerging dynamics and incentives driving GOP congresspeople to break with Trump; the continued risks he poses to American interests at home and abroad, especially in connection with Ukraine; and the vast talent gap between the two parties when it comes to the 2028 presidential race—and the particular problem Republicans are facing in the form of a de facto frontrunner, J.D. Vance, whom Stevens sees as “super creepy.” To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Credits: 0.25 AMA PRA Category 1 Credit™   CME/CE Information and Claim Credit: https://www.pri-med.com/online-education/podcast/frankly-speaking-cme-460 Overview: Join us as we discuss how frequently patients with stable hypertension should monitor their blood pressure at home. Hear insights from two trials to help you provide evidence-based, cost-conscious guidance—reducing unnecessary alarms while supporting better long-term management. Episode resource links: Rose, Francesa; Stevens, Richard S.a; Morton, Kate S.b; Yardley, Lucyc; McManus, Richard J.a,d. How often should self-monitoring of blood pressure be repeated? A secondary analysis of data from two randomized controlled trials. Journal of Hypertension ():10.1097/HJH.0000000000004123, August 20, 2025. | DOI: 10.1097/HJH.0000000000004123 Guest: Robert A. Baldor MD, FAAFP   Music Credit: Matthew Bugos Thoughts? Suggestions? Email us at FranklySpeaking@pri-med.com  

Credits: 0.25 AMA PRA Category 1 Credit™   CME/CE Information and Claim Credit: https://www.pri-med.com/online-education/podcast/frankly-speaking-cme-460 Overview: Join us as we discuss how frequently patients with stable hypertension should monitor their blood pressure at home. Hear insights from two trials to help you provide evidence-based, cost-conscious guidance—reducing unnecessary alarms while supporting better long-term management. Episode resource links: Rose, Francesa; Stevens, Richard S.a; Morton, Kate S.b; Yardley, Lucyc; McManus, Richard J.a,d. How often should self-monitoring of blood pressure be repeated? A secondary analysis of data from two randomized controlled trials. Journal of Hypertension ():10.1097/HJH.0000000000004123, August 20, 2025. | DOI: 10.1097/HJH.0000000000004123 Guest: Robert A. Baldor MD, FAAFP   Music Credit: Matthew Bugos Thoughts? Suggestions? Email us at FranklySpeaking@pri-med.com  

There's a whole lot of love in the latest edition of The Front Page - but also some healthy disagreement. After a wonderful Saturday and Sunday of jump racing, Lee Mottershead, Lewis Porteous and James Stevens reflect on some tremendous performances by Gaelic Warrior, Grey Dawning, The Jukebox Man and Jango Baie. Perhaps not surprisingly, one member of the team believes this season's King George VI Chase winner ran over the weekend - and it might not be the horse you think. As well as wrapping up some of the current major stories - including the huge bans handed out following the Hillsin stopping scandal - the guys ask what we should expect from Constitution Hill in the Fighting Fifth Hurdle. David Jennings also joins the show as he and James ask a different question, namely who is better, Paul Townend or Sean Bowen?

In this episode of K9Conservationists, Kayla Fratt chats with Alison Pearce Stevens, author of Detective Dogs: How Working Dogs Sniff Out Invasive Species. They discuss the inspiration behind her new book, her experiences shadowing detection dog teams, and what it was like to bring the story to life.Alison's websitehttps://apstevens.com/ Get a signed copy! Don't forget you can personalize your copy, just put your desired personalization in the comment box when ordering.https://francieandfinch.com/ Host: Kayla FrattEditor: Sara Fangton Guest logistics: Brooke Schoeder Interns: Evelyn Combs and Grace KoskiWebsite: Meg du BrayMentoring group: Madison Davis

In this episode, Angie and Stevens discuss the profound impact of military service on personal faith, societal perceptions of the military, and the importance of honoring veterans while holding them accountable. They emphasize the need for truth and research in understanding societal narratives, the significance of patriotism, and the heart posture behind our actions. The conversation encourages listeners to express gratitude for veterans beyond just Veterans Day, highlighting the sacrifices made for freedom.Takeaways• Being a Marine has influenced my Christian faith.• Marines embody characteristics that Christians should adopt.• Society has embraced lawlessness, affecting views on authority.• Media plays a significant role in shaping perceptions of the military.• Research is essential to understand the truth behind statistics.• Veterans deserve honor, but accountability is also necessary.• A simple thank you can mean a lot to veterans.Patriotism should be expressed with healthy pride.• Heart posture determines our actions and priorities.• Symbols like the flag and Bible should be respected, but not idolized.Give Now: www.christalonenetwork.com/giveFeatured Ad: www.renewedmindsets.comQuestions/Suggestions: www.christalonenetwork.com/contactPrayer Request: www.christalonenetwork.com/prayerImmediate Contact: call/text 407-796-2881

Join us as the the guys are visited by Donna Stevens who just returned from a trip to Epic/Universal She discusses her take on the new park and also Universal. How di she like it? How was the food? What was the theming like ? As a bonus she also went to Disney Springs and stayed at Saratoga for the first time !!!! Do you have an upcoming trip???  ------------------------------------------------------ If you want to join us and discuss your trip or any of the topics we chat about, provide a trip report or even just ask questions, please reach out to us on our Facebook page, Spoonie Nation, Instagram or Twitter all episodes, show notes, and everything about our podcast here

In this episode of Quakers Today, co-hosts Sweet Miche (they/them) and Peterson Toscano (he/him) invite you to learn more about the sometimes baffling practice of silent worship. Whether you're a long-time Friend or someone who has never stepped into a mostly silent meeting, we are pulling back the curtain to explore what happens in our hearts, minds, and bodies when we sit together in worship. The Purpose of Ministry We speak with author Rhiannon Grant about her book, Speaking in Quaker Meeting for Worship: What, When, How, and Why. Rhiannon helps us understand the purpose of spoken ministry in the silent meeting, explaining how speech that deepens silence is a vital part of our shared spiritual practice.  Quote: "The purpose of ministry then might be understood as deepening the silence of meeting for worship." Read a review of Speaking in Quaker Meeting for Worship by Paul Buckley at FriendsJournal.org.  Learn more about Rhiannon Grant's book and other Quaker Quicks at QuakerBooks.org/Collections/Quaker-Quicks. Our First Meetings for Worship Peterson and Sweet Miche share their first experiences in Quaker worship: Peterson's search for community after 9/11 and Sweet Miche's feeling of guidance at Pendle Hill. We also hear from Paula Christophersen, a Quaker in Germany, who shared her first experience of ministry. You can watch the full video of Paula Christophersen on YouTube or at QuakerSpeak.com. Meeting for Worship with Attention to Worship Peterson introduces a new format for meeting for worship he's been experimenting with: Meeting for Worship with Attention to Worship. This model of worship uses the meeting's existing structure to guide newcomers by making the internal work of worship visible and conversational. Quaker Fiction We explore how writers use fiction and poetry to make the internal, mystical experience of worship visible. Anne E.G. Nydam's story, “The Conduits”, reveals the flow of connection in meeting through glowing lines of light. Peterson shares two of his short stories! “Penn's Spring”, uses a mysterious, unexplained wet patch on a meetinghouse wall to represent a spiritual movement in a "stagnant and dry" meeting. “What Is Actually There” features a high-schooler named Jordan reflecting on the enduring effort of the Quaker path. “A Fine Showing for the Court of Owls” by Jonathan Doering is a story about the radical Quaker abolitionist Benjamin Lay. Read Quaker-themed fiction and poetry in the November 2025 issue of Friends Journal. Listener Responses Who is someone you've encountered in fiction that embodies Quakerness? The character could be from a book or movie. They could be a hero or even a minor character, and they do not need to be Quaker.  This month's fictional “Quakers” include: Pooh Bear, Maisie Dobbs, Gumby, Ted Lasso, Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, WALL-E, Stevens from The Remains of the Day, and Dorothea from George Eliot's Middlemarch. Next Month's Question We want to hear from you! What do you believe now that you didn't believe before becoming a friend or before encountering Quakerism?  Leave us a voice memo with your name and town at 317-QUAKERS (317-782-5377). (+1 if outside the U.S.) You can also reply by email at podcast@FriendsJournal.org or on our social media channels. Sponsors Quakers Today is the companion podcast to Friends Journal and other Friends Publishing Corporation content. It is written, hosted, and produced by Peterson Toscano and Sweet Miche. Season Five of Quakers Today is sponsored by the American Friends Service Committee and Friends Fiduciary. For over a decade, the American Friends Service Committee has provided technical and strategic support for divestment campaigns around the world. Today, AFSC's Action Center for Corporate Accountability aims to expose and reduce corporate complicity in mass incarceration, immigrant detention, border militarization, and the Israeli military occupation. Visit investigate.afsc.org and find resources to help you divest from corporate-sponsored state violence. Friends Fiduciary is a Quaker non-profit offering cost-effective, professional investment services to Friends meetings, churches, schools, and organizations. We offer five value-aligned portfolios, managed by 12 SEC-registered firms. We screen every holding for Quaker values, engage in shareholder advocacy, and in 2024, distributed $16 million to our constituents. Learn more about us at FriendsFiduciary.org. Music in this episode comes from Epidemic Sound. For the extended video version of this episode, visit the Friends Journal YouTube channel (insert hyperlink). For a full transcript, visit QuakersToday.org.