A self biography Tolie had made...


The beginning of a life is a sacred thing. A story with its own genre; cover to cover its pages are filled with what the narrator writes, the last few pages the black-blue ink still dries. A baby is our first page, born rather frail and weak. When bones were brittle, defective lungs, and a heart with many holes and tears. Not because she harbored hatred, she was born without the ability to hate. Growing up was hard because she was constantly bullied, hiding in the classrooms during lunch because the halls were a battlefield and she wasn't strong enough to fight those battles. The halls were an arsenal of names and she was called them all. In the first grade she earned her nickname that would follow her to the day she graduated; Popper. One part because of the pills, ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. See what these kids didn't know is these pills kept Popper alive. Without these medications before each meal, each sunset and sunrise, popper'a story would be cut short. Later on that year, she was sent home early from school. The news repeating the same headlines, because when hatred hit it hit hard, and when it hit it burned and when it burned it collapsed.... Within those collapsed towers and thousands of people, a man who risked his life to save hundreds. From then on, she began to live with fear in her heart. Now building up through school, health problems arose and medication was the key. Oh how the names could be cruel. She had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal and a tidal wave of antidepressants. She tried to cut her story short in her own hands due to the cruelty and wanting to die her own way and not due to the terminal illness. She secluded herself within the safety of four walls in her house, playing solitaire spin the bottle and tried to kiss the parts of her that were wounded. In grade eleven she met a boy who she thought was her life. This boy had alternate motives, who knew love hurt so badly? Not only through emotional but through tragic pain. A car screech and a woman's scream, followed by the sound of crunching metal. From a simple argument, a gun was brought up and she knew she must find an end. Blessed with a baby a short time later but also cursed with the memories. She would shout and cry within the realms if her dreams because even there, she wasn't safe. To this day, she still thinks she's ugly despite a loving son who's definition of the word beauty begins with the word mom and ends with the words isn't, because she has always been beautiful to him. He saw her heart before he saw her skin. He saw what was inside and deemed her beautiful. The writer fell gravely sick, was in the hospital, wasting away with machines hooked to her body that buzzed and beeped every time her heart leaped. A mask around her face to give her oxygen because her lungs- couldn't filter carbon dioxide from oxygen. Her mother stayed well past visiting hour because for her that term didn't apply. You know the worst part about being sick is you get all the free ice cream you ask for... The worst part about that is realizing there's nothing more they can do for you; ice cream doesn't make everything okay. At that moment the writer realized that there aren't enough miracles to go around.. There's too many people petitioning god for the winning lotto ticket. So there's silence. No music. The only sound that breaks the silence are the sounds of a dying girls mother taking liberties with heaven. There's 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but She realized every breath we take has to be given back... what is your night worth without a story to tell, and why wield a word like worth if you’ve got nothing to sell. people drop pennies down a wishing well as if the cost of a desire is equal to that of a thought. but if you’ve got expectations expect others have bought your exact same dream for the price of the hard work, hang in, hold on mentality, like I accept any challenge so challenge me
like I’ve brought a knife to this gun fight, but other night I mugged a mountain so bring that shit I’ve had practice. She broke free of the monitors and now lives on, because her will is made if stone and her heart as large as a planet. Before the author can close her story, she must finish writing the pages and if she runs out? There's always time to write a sequel.

CalmanBot “{Nickname}” {Last Name} (née {Maiden Name}) died {unexpectedly/peacefully} in {location} on {date} in {City, State} at the age of {age}.
CalmanBot is survived by {his/her} {parents, Name and Name of Location; wife/husband, Name; children, Names; siblings, Names of Locations}. {He/she} is preceded in death by {relatives, Names, of Locations}.
CalmanBot was born on {date} in {City, State} to {Parent Names}. {He/she} graduated from {School} in {year} with a degree in {field}. {He/she} married CalmanBot, {his/her high school sweetheart/a mechanical engineer/etc.} in {year}. After moving to {Location}, CalmanBot began working for {Company} as a {position}. Over {period of time}, the couple welcomed {number} children into their home and CalmanBot set about teaching them {skill/trade}. {His/her} children remember {him/her} as a {kind/gentle/patient/driven} {father/mother} who encouraged them to pursue their goals.
CalmanBot was accomplished at {skill/talent} and often {example of talent}. {He/she} was a {generous/witty/dedicated} individual who loved {subject} and who was passionate about {changing the world/educating students/bacon/etc.}. {He/she} was an active and dedicated member of the {Church/Club/etc.} and often volunteered at {location}.
A funeral is scheduled for {time and date} at {location}, with a reception to follow at {location}. {Title} CalmanBot will officiate the ceremony. All are welcome to attend and celebrate CalmanBot’s life. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to {Charity/Hospital/person/etc.} at {address}. Condolences can be sent to {URL}. The family would like to thank {caregivers/hospital staff/etc.} for {his/her/their} {efforts/care/dedication}.

Dr. Kenneth L. Hull (1948-2016) died peacefully on 01/12/16 in Ventura CA at 67 years of age, after a protracted and difficult illness. He was born in 1948 in Berkeley CA to Emeral Wayne Hull and Inez Mary Hull, but lived the majority of his childhood in West Covina, where he completed his K-12 schooling, graduating from Edgewood High School in 1966.

Ken, his siblings, and parents took full advantage of the growing numbers of amenities in Southern California of the ‘50s and ‘60s, generally taking a car trip nearly every Sunday to the mountains, beaches or desert, hiking in nature, studying local history, and partaking of the growing number of entertainment venues. Disneyland was a beloved spot, but visits to LA Museums, the Dodgers and Angels baseball games and to films at many storied Hollywood theaters were also favorites. The entire family traveled extensively in the US by car during the nearly annual, one-month summer vacations. These frequently included visiting relatives in Texas and Pennsylvania, but also involved enjoying nature through camping and hiking at a wide variety of National Parks from California to Maine. By the end of the last vacation in 1967, the family had visited 45 States, the District of Columbia and two Canadian Provinces. Meanwhile at home, Ken demonstrated an early interest in science. He constructed his own “Brainiac” computer, built a Newtonian-Cassegrain telescope with friend Tom Todd by grinding their own 15 inch mirror, and performed numerous chemical experiments, including developing photos, in the garage, all before going to college. He attended Cal State Fullerton University and received a B.A. in Chemistry in 1970. He then pursued graduate studies at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, receiving a M.S. in Chemistry and a Ph.D. in Nuclear Physics in 1979, the latter for developing computational methodologies for “detecting the undetectable gamma ray”.

During this time, Ken went out on a blind date set up by his good friend Vicky. Here he met the woman he would eventually marry, Jackie. However, it almost didn’t come to be as the date started out, in a word, disastrous. His love of singing and driving, however, changed Jackie’s mind about him and the rest was history. They were married in April 1975 and celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary in 2015.

Ever the California kid, Michigan winters proved to be too much for him so six months after their wedding, Ken and Jackie moved back to California. They would relocate several times for his work eventually staying in Las Vegas, NV. Eventually though, his work and long daily commute became too routine and dull. He relished a challenge. So, he began to apply to other, more stimulating, positions. He ended up getting transferred by EG and G Corporation and relocated to their Goleta facility back in Southern California.

He loved the many opportunities he had through this company’s contracting. He was able to travel across North America and Europe to collaborate on national safety and reliable energy. He relished these trips to meet and discuss with other scientists from around the world. He also traveled across the U.S. working with various government agencies including the Secret Service under three different presidents.

Ken loved to travel for work or pleasure. He loved meeting new people and, as he put it, “going exploring”. He loved taking the road less traveled even though that often led him into scrapes: such as the time he took a dirt road and found himself surrounded by armed guards all aiming their guns at him. He had millions of stories similar to that one.

The 90’s were a difficult period for him. He dealt with the folding of EG and G, the loss of his father and father-in-law, as well as his own financial and medical difficulties. However, he made the best of things and decided to pursue another of his passions: teaching.

He started out at the community college level. He would spend hours preparing for his classes. He wanted to make the classes as fun and engaging as possible. Sadly, he found that his hands were increasingly tied by administrators. So, although he enjoyed teaching at the Community College level, he decided to try his hand at high school science.

In 1997, he joined the L.A. District Intern program. He was placed at Jordan High school in Watts. Any sane individual would have been nervous about attending this school after the veteran teachers’ tips. Perhaps he felt protected by his 6’8” height, but mostly his philosophy meant that he never judged a book by its cover and thus he went into his classes not nervous, but excited. He was excited to share the joys of science, especially physics and chemistry, with the students. He quickly discovered that there was a language barrier with many of his students. However, explosions and his “mad-scientist” laugh transcended all languages. He caught and, more importantly, held their interest. He also respected them. He knew that they were capable of amazing things and wanted to make sure that they knew it very well. As a consequence, he would go out into “The Projects” day or night to tutor the students, chat with parents, or just hang out with the families. He cared about every last one of them. He also had no sense of fear or danger. That’s the kind of guy he was. He would be so blinded by his desire to help others, he wouldn’t notice the danger he put himself into, nor the toes he may be stepping on. He never was able to understand office politics, so his time at Jordan was cut short.

Shortly after he left teaching, he became disabled. This made it difficult for him to pursue some of his passions. Instead, he turned to what he considered the most important aspect of his life: his immediate family.

He felt as though by working so hard, for so long, across the U.S. and abroad, that he had been neglecting his daughter Katherine. She was his world and he wanted to be as much a part of her life as possible. He was immensely proud when she graduated from high school and then again when she attended, and graduated from, his Alma Mater. He pushed her to be the amazing person he knew she was. He would also come down and visit her any chance he had often fitting in a trip to Disneyland at the same time.

Sadly, in 2012, he became very ill and never fully recovered. On January 12, 2016, he passed away peacefully surrounded by his wife, daughter, and sister while listening to his favorite book.

He is predeceased by his parents, their siblings, and two of his daughters, Karen and Kelly Hull.
He is survived by his Wife Jacqueline K. Hull, their daughter Katherine E. Hull, his sister Shirley Kovacs, his brother Barry Hull, his nephew Kent Kovacs and niece Elaine Kovacs.
He will be dearly missed by all who knew him.

I didn't realize it then, but one of the biggest lessons I learned from my Dad - the value of hard work. He woke up everyday, put on his shoes, and went to work to provide for our family. I could count on one hand how times my dad was sick. Even if he didn't feel good, he would get up and go to work. He truly believed that if you worked hard, treated people right, and with help from God, you could have a good Life. He showed strength and love right up until his last days with us. I hope that one day, when its my time to go, my children can look back, tell funny stories about me, and talk about how I loved them. Then, like my father, I will have led a complete life.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from me, the waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.

My father Mr Charles Aluogho Musa was an hero, brave and God fearing dedicated christian, he left behind a good legacy of truth, he was always standing by the truth no mater how biter it sound in the ear of the hearers, he was castigated a lot by his community because of truth he stand behind and this is why he was known by every one in the community and likewise the entire state despite he was very good leaned government retired teacher and very hard working man .

Good Citizen,Sneaker head,sold snacks and was a hooper.never saw him play foreal.

Theodore James Tekulve Jr. was called home to his loving Father on February 1, 2016. Theodore, age 19, passed away peacefully following injuries acquired from an automobile accident near Peebles, OH that occured on January 19, 2016.

Theodore "Ted" James Tekulve Jr. was born to Janel and Theodore Tekulve on the 10th of October, 1996 in Athens, OH. Theodore was a freshman at Ohio University studying biomolecular sciences and engineering following his 2015 graduation with honors from Archbishop McNicholas High School.

Theodore enjoyed the outdoors whether he was snowboarding, playing football and baseball, or shooting basketball with his father. He loved spending time cooking with his mother and Nana, being a church group leader at his local church and grabbing a bite to eat with his friends and girlfriend. He will be remembered by loved ones as funny, brilliant, kind and very loving and caring of family and friends.

Theodore was preceded in his death by his grandfather, Charles James Tekulve, his uncle, Greg Kelder, and his good friend, Andrew Blake Wright.

He will be deeply missed by his mother and father, Janel and Theodroe Tekulve; his aunts, Mona Kelder and Jess Griend-Tekulve; his uncle, Matt Griend; and his cousin, Sydney Griend-Tekulve; as well as by many friends and his girlfriend.

Theodore will be cremated and his ashes will be dispersed over the Grand Canyon, his favorite vacation spot and into the waters of Strouds Run, his favorite place to go fishing with his father.

In lieu of flowers, we request that family and friends offer up donations to Cancer research for children at https://www.childrenscancer.org/main/ways_to_donate/ in honor of Theodore.

God Bless all.