upworthy
More

Given 4 months to live, he cleaned up a creek—then spent 27 years being an eco-hero.

What would you do if you only had a few months to live?

John Beal faced this daunting question we've all asked ourselves after suffering several heart attacks at age 29, and being told by his doctors that he had just four months to live. An incredible new story from KUOW's RadioActive Youth Media program details how the Marine Corps veteran who fought in Vietnam suffered from the physical and psychological effects of war, including PTSD. His heart attacks came just a year after a difficult return from Vietnam, where he'd served as a dogged and determined soldier known by his military brethren as "Johnny the Terror."

How he chose to spend what he thought were his final days made him a terror in civilian life as well—at least to apathetic polluters and greedy corporations content to sacrifice the environment for profits.


Beal decided to fill his final four months with a simple, positive action—cleaning up a small creek near his home.

When Beal received his dire prognosis, he went to a wooded area near Hamm Creek, a small waterway near his home in Seattle. A tributary of the Duwamish River, Hamm Creek had been so neglected and polluted it was barely recognizable.

Beal's daughter Liana said people had warned them as kids to not go into the river or they would get rashes. Cars, household appliances, and dead fish littered the river at low tide. Gazing at the polluted stream, Beal made a decision.

“He thought, well, I did a lot of damage in Vietnam," Liana told KUOW, "so why not clean up where I am now before I pass?”

So Beal set out to restore the creek, figuring he would use the short remainder of his life leaving a positive mark on the planet.

Turns out, the doctors were wrong. Beal lived another 27 years and became a tireless champion of clean waterways.

As Beal soon found, cleaning up a heavily polluted creek takes much longer than a few months. Trash removal was simply the first step. Pipes had to be removed, and ongoing maintenance was needed.

"He was just like a one-man show, and everybody thought he was crazy, and he didn't care because he loved the stream, and he wanted to see it healthy," Liana told the Seattle P-I. "He wanted to see the salmon come back."

Thankfully, Beal far outlived his prognosis and personally ensured that Hamm Creek fully restored. And sure enough, the salmon that had not been able to access the stream due to pollution returned in the 1980s.

But Beal's work didn't end there. He took on businesses that were damaging rivers and streams with bullish persistence. He became an outspoken advocate for the Duwamish watershed and founded a non-profit to protect marine life. By the time he died in 2006 at age 56, he had won more than 40 awards for his environmental stewardship.

Whether we have days or decades left, we can all take a page out of Beal's life story and improve our world while we're still here.  

Duran Duran lead singer Simon LeBon poses with a young fan

Imagine this: you're a fourth grade language arts teacher in Dallas, and like many Gen X-ers, your obsession with Duran Duran never waned. So much so that you still have dolls of each member of the band in the classroom and, according to Austin Wood's article for the Lake Highlands Advocate, even an old telephone in case (lead singer) "Simon LeBon calls."

This describes Miriam Osborne, a fourth grade teacher at White Rock Elementary in the Lake Highlands district of Dallas, Texas. Wood shares in "White Rock E.S. student, inspired by teacher, meets Simon LeBon" that one of Osborne's students, 10-year-old Ava Meyers, was getting an early pickup for Christmas break, as her family was heading to the U.K. for a holiday wedding. As they were saying their goodbyes in the hallway, Osborne kiddingly said to Meyers, "Find Duran Duran."

gif of Duran Duran performingDuran Duran 80S GIFGiphy


Cut to: Ava and her family, including her mom Zahara, fly across the pond to find themselves in the Putney neighborhood of London. After a day of sightseeing, Zahara shares, "I was just Googling things to do in Putney, and the first thing that popped up was 'Simon Le Bon lives in Putney from Duran Duran.'”

Zahara did a little sleuthing and found Simon's house, thinking perhaps a Christmas stroll by the home would be exciting. But, according to the article, Ava felt they could do better. She and "an 83-year-old relative named Nick, who apparently has courage in droves, went to the door and tried a knock. Zahara was initially hesitant but assumed Le Bon would be away on vacation, so she figured it was harmless. Le Bon’s son-in-law answered, his wife came to the door next, and following a few moments of getting pitched the idea by Nick, agreed to get her husband 'because it was Christmas.'"

And just like that, Simon LeBon appeared in the doorway. He warmly greeted Ava and her family and even took pictures. "It was just crazy," Ava exclaimed.

But possibly more excited was Miriam Osborne, back in the States. She proudly shared the photo (which had been texted to her) with many of her friends and even encouraged Ava to recount the story to her classmates when they returned from the break. Wood shares, "Osborne’s connection to the band goes back to her childhood in El Paso in the ’80s. As the daughter of a Syrian immigrant, she says she had trouble fitting in and finding an identity. Some days, she and her brothers would travel across town to get records from a British record store."

Miriam explains she used her babysitting money to buy her first Duran Duran record. "And so I had been a fan, literally, for 43 years—my entire lifetime."

gif of Simon LeBonDuran Duran GIFGiphy

Osborne's love of Duran Duran, and many '80s bands in general, nostalgically connects her to a throughline for her life that she tries to impart onto the students as well. "Music is a connector, and it connected me to a world that I didn’t always fit in as a child. It helped me find people who I still love to this day, and it’s a big part of this classroom with me and the students I teach, because everybody has a story, and there’s something really incredible about hearing something and it taking you to a happy moment."

As for Ava? She's now taking guitar lessons. And perhaps one day, she can become so famous and inspirational, a teacher sends a student off to find her on a Christmas vacation in the future.

The obituary for Joe Heller

Joe Heller (1937 - 2019) of Essex, Connecticut appears to have lived a full life: he was in the Navy, worked at the Yale library, and raised three daughters. But he was also a hoarder, a hardcore napper, and loved pulling pranks that involved feces.

Well, as Abe Lincoln once said, "A man without vices is a man without virtues." His hilarious obituary, believed to be penned by one of his daughters, is going viral because it paints a loving picture of a man who clearly didn't take life too seriously — a lesson we could all use from time to time.

The obituary opens with a helluva zinger.

Joe Heller made his last undignified and largely irreverent gesture on Sept. 8, 2019, signing off on a life, in his words, 'generally well-lived and with few regrets.' When the doctors confronted his daughters with the news last week that 'your father is a very sick man,' in unison they replied, 'you have no idea.'


Joe Heller, obituaries, funny, death, dying, humor, family Joe Heller's obituary photoImage via the Hartford Courant obituaries

In his youth, Heller played the role of a prankster.

Being the eldest was a dubious task but he was up for the challenge and led and tortured his siblings through a childhood of obnoxious pranks, with his brother, Bob, generally serving as his wingman. Pat, Dick and Kathy were often on the receiving end of such lessons as "Ding Dong, Dogsh*t" and thwarting lunch thieves with laxative-laced chocolate cake and excrement meatloaf sandwiches. His mother was not immune to his pranks as he named his first dog, "Fart," so she would have to scream his name to come home if he wandered off.


He met the "love of his life" at work and his daughter can't believe he fooled her into marriage.

Joe was a self-taught chemist and worked at Cheeseborough-Ponds where he developed one of their first cosmetics' lines. There he met the love of his life, Irene, who was hoodwinked into thinking he was a charming individual with decorum. Boy, was she ever wrong. Joe embarrassed her daily with his mouth and choice of clothing. To this day we do not understand how he convinced our mother, an exceedingly proper woman and a pillar in her church, to sew and create the colorful costumes and props which he used for his antics.

Heller had a knack for creatively intimidating his daughters' boyfriends.

Growing up in Joe's household was never dull. If the old adage of "You only pull the hair of those you love" holds true, his three daughters were well loved. Joe was a frequent customer of the girls' beauty shops, allowing them to "do" his hair and apply make-up liberally. He lovingly assembled doll furniture and built them a play kitchen and forts in the back yard. During their formative years, Joe made sure that their moral fibers were enriched by both Archie Bunker and Benny Hill. When they began dating, Joe would greet their dates by first running their license plates and checking for bald tires. If their vehicle passed inspection, they were invited into the house where shotguns, harpoons and sheep "nutters" were left clearly on display.


obituaries, funny, death, dying, familyStuck on you! #snoopy #woodstock #stickers #forsale #colle… | Flickrwww.flickr.com

He never met a dog he didn't like.

After retiring from running Bombaci Fuel, he was perhaps, most well-known for his role as the Essex Town "Dawg Kecher." He refused to put any of his "prisoners" down and would look for the perfect homes for them. One of them was a repeat offender who he named "A**hole" because no owner would ever keep him for very long because he was, in fact, an a**hole. My Dad would take his buddy on daily rides in his van and they'd roam around town with the breeze blowing through both of their fur. He never met a dog he didn't like, the same could not be said for the wanna-be blue bloods, snoots and summer barnacles that roamed about town.

He had a small issue with hoarding.

Joe was a frequent shopper at the Essex Dump and he left his family with a house full of crap, 300 pounds of birdseed and dead houseplants that they have no idea what to do with. If there was ever a treasure that he snatched out from under you among the mounds of junk, please wait the appropriate amount of time to contact the family to claim your loot.

Joe Heller, obituaries, death, dying, family, humor, funnyA hoarder's garageImage via Canva

Heller was born with an innate napping ability.

Joe was also a consummate napper. There wasn't a road, restaurant or friend's house in Essex that he didn't fall asleep on or in. There wasn't an occasion too formal or an event too dour that Joe didn't interrupt with his apnea and voluminous snoring.

According to the obituary, Heller will be laid to rest on Friday, September 13, at 10:00 am in Centerbrook Cemetery, but his family urges attendees to dress casually.

Joe despised formality and stuffiness and would really be ticked off if you showed up in a suit. Dress comfortably. The family encourages you to don the most inappropriate T-Shirt that you are comfortable being seen in public with as Joe often did. Everybody has a Joe story and we'd love to hear them all. Joe faced his death and his mortality, as he did with his life, face on, often telling us that when he dropped dead to dig a hole in the back yard and just roll him in.

You can read the entire obituary at Legacy.com.


This article originally appeared on 9.10.19

Race & Ethnicity

Woman's rare antique turned away from 'Antique Roadshow' for heart-wrenching reason

"I just love you for bringing it in and thank you so much for making me so sad."

Woman's antique turned away from 'Antique Roadshow'

People come by things in all sorts of ways. Sometimes you find something while at a garage sale and sometimes it's because a family member passed away and it was left to them. After coming into possession of the item, the owner may be tempted to see how much it's worth so it can be documented for insurance purposes or sold.

On a recent episode of BBC One's Antique Roadshow, a woman brought an ivory bracelet to be appraised. Interestingly enough, the expert didn't meet this rare find with excitement, but appeared somber. The antique expert, Ronnie Archer-Morgan carefully explains the purpose of the bracelet in what appears to be a tense emotional exchange.

There would be no appraisal of this antique ivory bracelet adorned with beautiful script around the circumference. Archer-Morgan gives a brief disclaimer that he and the Antique Roadshow disapprove of the trade of ivory, though that was not his reason for refusing the ivory bangle.

"This ivory bangle here is not about trading in ivory, it’s about trading in human life, and it’s probably one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever had to talk about. But talk about it we must," Archer-Morgan says.

Ronnie Archer-Morgan, Antiques Roadshow, BBC, antiques, ivoryRonnie Archer-Morgan on an episode of the BBC's Antiques RoadshowImage via Antqiues Roadshow


Turns out the woman had no idea what she had in her possession as she purchased it from an estate sale over 30 years before. One of the elderly residents she cared for passed away and the woman found the ivory bracelet among the things being sold. Finding the bangle particularly intriguing with the fancy inscription around it, she decided to purchase the unique piece of jewelry.

After explaining that his great-grandmother was once enslaved in Nova Scotia, Canada before being returned to Sierra Leone, Archer-Morgan concluded he could not price the item.

Antiques Roadshow, BBC, Ronnie Archer MorganRonnie Archer-Morgan holds the ivory bracelet he refused to valueImage via Antiques Roadshow/BBC

"I just don’t want to value it. I do not want to put a price on something that signifies such an awful business. But the value is in the lessons that this can tell people," he tells the woman.

In the end the woman leaves without knowing the monetary value of the item but with a wealth of knowledge she didn't have before visiting. Now she can continue to share the significance of the antique with others. Watch the full explanation below:


- YouTubewww.youtube.com

This article originally appeared last year.

Motherhood

Mom points out the unspoken, 'unfair' part of having kids who travel for sports

Parents whose children participate in elite travel ball leagues can spend up to $12,000 annually on fees, equipment, hotel rooms and gas.

Casey Kelley shares her thoughts on kids in travel sports.

Parents whose children participate in elite travel ball leagues can spend up to $12,000 annually on fees, equipment, hotel rooms and gas. One mother, Casey Kelley, from Alabama, has spoken out, saying that if parents spend all of that money and time, their children should get to play in games. Kelley's daughter plays on a club volleyball team.

According to the latest Aspen Institute survey, the average American family spends $883 per year for a single child to play one primary sport. Project Play also points out that the cost of playing various youth sports can fluctuate great. For example, their 2022 report reveals that it costs an average $1,188 per year for a child to play soccer and $714 for baseball. As Jersey Watch writes, those numbers have come down a bit since the pandemic but are still cost prohibitive for many American families trying to make ends meet. What's even more frustrating is that those high prices don't even guarantee participation in games for children. A family can literally spend thousands of dollars all for the experience of having their child sit on a bench watching their peers actually get to participate.

The topic was inspired by a conversation she had with other volleyball parents who agreed that every kid should get a decent amount of playing time. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think, if you’re paying to be there, so it's not like high school sports, I think everyone should have the opportunity to play because this is a developmental league ... and they’re there to develop and to learn,” she explained in a TikTok video.

“Especially if these parents are paying thousands of dollars for them to be in the league and then traveling, spending money on hotels for their kid to sit there and maybe play a minute or two the whole weekend. I think it’s unfair,” she continued.



@caseyjkelley

What do you think? #travelball #clubsport #athlete #kids #mom #question


It's reasonable for Kelley to believe that spending a lot of money and traveling all over the map only to watch your kid play for a few minutes feels pointless. However, a lot of parents disagreed with her in the comments.

"You pay for practice. Playing time is earned," Nathan Sullins wrote.

"Absolutely not. If you want fair playing time you play rec ball. Travel ball playing time is performance based," another user wrote.

travel ball, volleyball, youth sports, travelball, parenting, finance, sportsYoung girls line up to play volleyballImage via Canva

But these parents haven’t changed Kelley’s mind.

“I’m not opposed to kids earning their spot or the best kids playing more, but I feel that every kid who makes the team should at least have some playing time,” she told Upworthy. “I know it’s not a popular opinion, but it’s how I currently see it.”

Kelley further explained the story in a follow-up video.



@caseyjkelley

Clarification post and the last one on this topic #travelball #athlete #travelballparents #clubsport #parenting


What do you think?

This article originally appeared last

Modern Families

The things we carry

The most poignant moments are honoring those who carried and still carry us.

Image courtesy Tara Roth

Tara Roth with her family

Editor's Note: This essay originally appeared on LinkedIn, you can read it here. It was republished here with permission from Tara Roth.

Today is the two-month anniversary of our evacuation from the Palisades Fire. Although we still don't know when we can return, we have learned - and are grateful for - so much.

It’s funny what the mind latches onto when under duress. One of my first thoughts amidst the surreal encroaching flames, circling smoke, debris and dust in the choking orange air, I noticed what people carried. What they brought with them as they rolled their suitcases down to Pacific Coast Highway, what was strapped to their backs, what they carried in their hands—no one really knowing what they were leaving behind or what, if anything, they may return to. And I thought of Tim O’Brien’s powerful piece about the Vietnam War, The Things They Carried, and reflected on what his wisdom could, with hindsight, eventually teach us. I’ve aggregated his words (with poetic license) below:

“For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity. They shared the weight of memory….the world would take on the old logic—absolute silence, then the wind, then sunlight, then voices… despite the unknowns, they made their legs move. They endured. They took up what others could no longer bear. Often they carried each other.”

Perhaps primed by the memory of this piece, my senses heightened by the chaos around me and the COVID that wracked my body, I observed what we carried. While the LA fires do not compare to the ravages of war, they evoked the same primal instincts. We were under siege. We needed to survive. The fires were redefining what we knew as familiar, as home—snatching safety and seizing the comfort of our quotidian lives that we took for granted—that so many of us long for again.

We carry the grief and loss and devastation and desolation of communities. We carry the memories constructed lovingly into homes and structures that now stand only in our mind’s eye—the library where families got their children's first library card, the beauty salon started by a young woman who immigrated from Russia, now no longer a young woman, and passed down to her daughter. Whole communities and identities carved and scrimped for, then lost, with debris and dust that settles in the wind, smattered by the rains—schools, restaurants, churches, businesses, the bench of a first kiss, the home where the couple brought their newborn from the hospital for the first time.

And even when houses stand, like mine, there’s something else we carry—after the initial elation of the news that our homes remain, a sort of survivor’s guilt sets in realizing how much we have when others have lost everything. We have homes to return to yet never could have imagined how it feels to drive past scarred earth and scorched chimneys, the thundering absence of a neighborhood, the empty lots of ashes of memories—a chronic reminder of all that was lost and the toll of our good luck. We carry this too.

And we, innocent children of the developed world, didn’t consider that even if a structure is standing, that we need power lines, sanitation, safe running water, and neighbors to look out for each other. That we will need countless months of waste removal and remediation. That we will continue to don masks and gloves to enter these standing, yet uninhabitable, structures.

The most poignant moments are honoring those who carried and still carry us. The first responders, the countless volunteers, those who prepared hot meals and donated clothes and comforts. Those who opened their homes so generously to my and myriad other families. The hundreds of people who reached out—from the oldest of friends to people I haven't talked to in decades to those with whom I shared maybe just a professional moment in the last few months. The care and love and generosity and grace, extended by so many.

When I reflect on this time, still living displaced in the homes of various warm-hearted friends, I think about the universality of human suffering and joy, wretchedness and wonder. And how, at our best, we come together in crisis. We know that we are a part of something greater, and we act without hesitation to lend a hand to carry each other. We carry hope about the resilience we have already witnessed as communities come together and pledge to reimagine and rebuild. And, this is what I want us to carry forward.


Tara Roth is the president of the Goldhirsh Foundation and its LA2050 initiative.