You give them life, they try to kill you.That sentence should never apply to your children. But it does in the sad case of a Maryland teenager named Cory Ryder, who tried to hire a hit man to kill his parents.According to reports, Ryder, who was 16 at the time, met with a man he believed to be an assassin - but who was actually an undercover police officer - in a hotel room last June. During their conversation, Ryder offered his stepfather's pickup as payment for the kill."Two bullets is all it takes," he allegedly said.
FT. BRAGG, N.C. - One by one they approached, polite and smiling. They were so young. I have been on a book tour for weeks, and the bags under my eyes are so noticeable that I have taken to jealously checking the lack of bags under other peoples' eyes. Theirs had none. No crow's-feet around the edges. No wrinkles on their foreheads. They were so young."Thanks for coming," they said."Thanks for having me," I said.Some were holding babies. Some were with pregnant wives. Some were so clean-shaven, they did not appear capable of growing more than a few stray whiskers.
Friday night, at a high school football playoff game, it was damp and cold, and the players bounced on their toes to keep warm. Near the Rochester Adams bench, amidst all these bigger teenagers, stood Jordan Kidder, barely five feet tall, with glasses and braces, a school cap, a jersey, a varsity jacket and a job to do."Watch this for me, Jordan, OK?" a player said, running over."OK," he said."Some water, Jordan," another said."Here," he said, handing over a bottle."How's it going, Jordan?" another said, slapping his hand.
Last year, it was nothing more than a dusty storage area. Old pipes. Dirty walls. Dim lighting. Boxes piled high. It was the southeastern corner of a homeless shelter building operated by the Michigan Veterans Foundation. Through these doors come 160 veterans a day, men who have served this country, worn the uniform, in some cases taken bullets or shrapnel, and who are now, for whatever reason, homeless. "We could really use a kitchen," the executive director, Tobi Geibig, told me back then."Where would you put it?" I asked.
EAST LANSING -The pass was a cannon shot, a third-down wing and a prayer, it traveled at least 40 yards in the air, went high into the lights and came low out of the glare, it spiraled to a backpedaling Mario Manningham in the end zone who leapt up to meet it, hands held high. He caught the ball and, as the defender fell in front of him, gravity took Manningham down until he landed smack on the chests of every Michigan State fan around the country who thought, finally, this was the one they would win.
Mitch Albom writes about running an orphanage in impoverished Port-au-Prince, Haiti, his kids, their hardships, laughs and challenges, and the life lessons he’s learned there every day.