A technique for complete replacement of the aortic valve and ascending aorta in cases of aneurysm of the ascending aorta with aortic valve ectasia is described. The proximal aortic root was too attenuated to afford anchorage to the aortic prosthesis, so this was sutured to the ring of a Starr valve and the prostheses were inserted en bloc. The ostia of the coronary arteries were anastomosed to the side of the aortic prosthesis.
I don’t know what most people think of when they think of high school, but I think that for most, it’s a mixture of feelings. A lot of us go through our awkward phase either right before or right when we enter it. We start trying to figure out exactly how we fit in with others. We become more aware of popularity, peer pressure, sex, drugs, and the different things that are going on in the world.
My school was no different. But there were a few notable exceptions. For one, there was initiation. This wasn’t for all of the kids, but the young black boys felt a need to “jump you in” to high school. In this day and age, it sounds like a form of bullying, but in some sense, it was a right of passage. We wanted to show we were tough as we entered the school, and they wanted to make sure we could defend ourselves and our school if something were to go down. And in those four years, a lot went down. Someone blew up the bathroom, a teacher got bombarded with water balloons, there were food fights, there was a gambling ring that was busted, and we were put on lock down so drug sniffing dogs could search the school. I don’t mean to glorify the drama, but those are some of the things that stick out…be it good or bad. There was also plenty of good like marching together to get a Black History course put in the curriculum, and plenty of teachers who truly tried, and cared about our success. Some of us hung out on “the block,” and some created our own “block” at a different location.
In my school, there were people that were born and bred in the town (typical suburbia), and there were those that didn’t actually live in the town, but lived with their “aunts” in town so they could go to the school. There were kids from the ghetto whose families moved them there for a better way of life. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian…hip, goth, awkward, confident, unsure, trouble makers, scholars,….we were brought together, and together we fought other towns, took home tons of trophies on the band trips, had soccer stars, actors, wrestlers, football players, and basketball ballers. This diversity has allowed us to not judge others as quickly as we otherwise might have…to realize that a lot of our differences are only skin deep. Most importantly, we had a ton of brains. Maybe we didn’t know it at the time, but if we look at where we are now, and see where our classmates are now, we made it…we did it. Not all, but most. It’s funny, if it were a reality show, you would have found it compelling, humorous, and inspiring. You’d watch it, I promise you that.
This is just a small part of what my school was, and just a vision of it from my narrow perspective. My school had a lot going on, but over the years I’ve learned that all of that gave us an unbreakable bond. We all shared these experiences, and people who otherwise would have never interacted, have memories of one another that will be there for a lifetime. Most of us aren’t the best of friends…shoot, we’re probably not friends at all anymore, and never will be. But we have that relationship, assisted today by social media outlets, that allows us to check in on one another from time to time. To give the little head nod of acknowledgement. To say, yeah…I remember…..and I won’t forget. Maybe all other schools are like that, but none are like mine.
Through the years, I know we’ve lost a handful, and I pay my respects to all of them, as well as the recent passing of Greg Watkins. May you all R.I.P….I remember….and I won’t forget, and I know I’m not the only one.
This entry was posted in Random, Rant, Rants, Uncategorized and tagged high school on August 21, 2012 by gtwhitfield.	
Boston homicide detective Angie Carlucci thought she was getting a much-needed vacation. But her Florida Keys holiday is interrupted when she sees someone dump a body bag in the ocean. In the tangle between arms dealers and treasure hunters, she’s the only witness—and the main target. Unless a certain boat captain can keep her safe…
A pretty cop complicating his mission—and endangering his cover— is the last thing federal agent Jason Bodwell needs. Yet the more Jason and Angie work together, the closer they grow. Jason’s willing to risk his life to solve the case…what will he risk for love?
It never occurred to me that I might like reading Romantic Suspense. Since I’m an avid Criminal Minds and CSI watcher, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. As I expected, Covert Pursuit is a fast-paced, suspenseful read. I couldn’t have picked a better book to break out of my historical-snob box.
Angie Carlucci stands by her morals, never once wavering from her faith in God, nor her duty to serve and protect. Jason Bodewell understands not all cases are black and white, especially when it’s personal. When Angie takes a vacation near the marina Jason is staked out at, his cover is threatened when she pushes the local law enforcement to get involved with an incident she witnesses. Can Angie learn the patience needed to solve the case and win Jason’s heart? Can Jason learn to trust God and walk away from revenge in order to be worthy of Angie’s love?
Terri Reed doesn’t mess around. She packs a lot of action into a short amount of space. It was not overdone and I did not feel as if the story was lacking. Her characters are realistic and well drawn. She had me cheering for Dectective Carlucci and Agent Bodewell from his their first meeting.
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Clutch is an American rock band from Germantown, Maryland, formed in 1990. The band's first release was an EP entitled Pitchfork, which debuted in October 1990. Their first studio album, Transnational Speedway League, was released three years later in 1...
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