See the books that made APJ Abdul Kalam

    

    

    Each woman knows the struggles they face to find water every day. Each woman knows that the power to bring water to homes lies only in the hands of powerful men. Each woman does what is needed to make sure that happens anyway. The struggle and pain of being a good woman in rural India is brought to life beautifully by Sudha Murty.

    In his car were the drugs the team needed if they were to have any chance of playing a competitive part in the 1998 Tour de France. The car was searched, he was immediately arrested and so the story that has been undermining the sport of cycling since the death of Tommy Simpson in 1967, finally broke. Imprisoned for sixteen days, sacked from the Festina team and ostracised from the sport to which he had dedicated his life, Willy Voet at last was able to tell the truth. His sensational story will change cycling forever.Cocaine, amphetamines, EPO, heroin - all these are now considered not optional but necessary, not to win but just to compete in the Tour de France. Details of how these drugs are obtained, mixed together to make cocktails, administered and concealed are all included in this graphic and uninhibited account of how drugs brought cycling to its knees.

    It opens with snapshots of her troubled childhood and early adult life in two difficult marriages. It quickly transitions to our first meeting, friendship, and relationship - not without their own complications. Through those trials, she showed tremendous strength and heart. We eventually married and lived a love story that others marveled at for years. We travelled, went to concerts, built a home, and remained completely devoted. While still in her early sixties, she lost a piece of herself. Words became harder to find. Steps to perform the simplest tasks became impossible to follow. We knew something was wrong but had no idea the severity of her condition. Our world turned upside down.The latter half of the book chronicles in exacting detail her diagnosis and life with Frontotemporal Degeneration, a dementia known as FTD. I cared for her for the three and a half years of this disease. Her mental state deteriorated rapidly. I changed to a more flexible job to stay with her more during the day as she lost even the most basic functions of eating alone, toileting, or using a phone. We still created tender moments and danced but she was losing a tremendous amount of weight and required greater and greater care.Financials not allowing me to quit work, I succumbed to the recommendations of multiple professionals and made the painful decision to place her in memory care. I visited her every day, two to three times per day, and we made the best of a horrible situation. We still shared many tender moments during this last year, including the moment I held her hand as she passed. The story is told in a vulnerable and unfiltered manner. It collects writings from both husband and wife through journals, letters, and social media posts integrated into the main narrative. It captures our real-life, undying love story through this incurable disease

    When overnight success came to the Pointer Sisters in 1973, they all thought it was the answer to their long-held prayers. While it may have served as an introduction to the good life, it also was an introduction to the high life of limos, champagne, white glove treatment, and mountains of cocaine that were the norm in the high-flying '70s and '80s. Ruth Pointer’s devastating addictions took her to the brink of death in 1984. Ruth Pointer has bounced back to live a drug- and alcohol-free life for the past 30 years and she shares how in her first biography. Readers will learn about the Pointer Sisters’ humble beginnings, musical apprenticeship, stratospheric success, miraculous comeback, and the melodic sound that captured the hearts of millions of music fans. They will also come to understand the five most important elements in Ruth’s story: faith, family, fortitude, fame, and forgiveness.

    A married man with one child and one on the way, he and his growing family settled in Davis, CA to begin the next chapter of their lives. Soon he would be faced with a challenge that would test his limits and have him searching for solid ground. Daisy Has Autism speaks to anyone who has found themselves faced with a choice about how to rise, maintain their integrity, and ultimately prevail. It is a story of transformation, resilience, and an unending parent’s love.

    Yet an accidental playground “bump” would release a rage frightening to behold. The school year that followed would be one of the most trying, perplexing, and ultimately rewarding of Torey Hayden’s career, as she struggled to reach a silent child in obvious pain. It would be a strenuous journey beset by seemingly insurmountable obstacles and darkened by truly terrible revelations—yet encouraged by sometimes small, sometimes dazzling breakthroughs—as a dedicated teacher remained committed to helping a “hopeless” girl, and patiently and lovingly leading her toward the light of a new day.

    When I was sixteen, I had a mental breakdown. It happened while I was on vacation in the Caribbean with my family. I’d been reading an old Zen book, and it did me in. I’d experienced some strange mental states before, but this was different. As I read this book, death moved to the foreground of all my thoughts—and then stayed there. I found myself in a tropical paradise, terrified. Living seemed too cruel to carry on with. Buddha had said all life was suffering and all that meant was that everything was hopeless. There was no way out. Escape was impossible. When you looked at things soberly, it was obvious. Life, inevitably, was really just suffering and death. I kept this anxiety to myself as best I could. There was nothing to say anyway. No one could help. I was helpless, mortified, but aware that I was unable to do anything about it. The stress began to wear on my body. It felt worse and worse. I would have killed myself right there if death didn’t scare me even more than life. I reasoned if I killed myself at least this particular suffering would be over. These feelings peaked and then went on, and on, and on. At some point, I took a drive with my family to a beach on the other side of the island. It was bad. My insides felt as if they were being torn out. I didn’t understand what was happening. I felt like vomiting but couldn’t. Finally, we arrived at the beach. I sat under a tree, in the shade, trying to act sane. And then I thought I died. Something happened and then nothing. And then there was something again. I don’t know. Was I dead? I looked around and realized I wasn’t. I was on the beach, under a tree. But there was no “I.” Everything was different. Everything had dropped off. Where was “I”? I didn’t exist. What was happening? What was this? It was indescribable. You couldn’t describe this. Any description was pointless. Everything was perfect just as it was, but at the same time, it wasn’t that. Because there was no everything. There was nothing at all. There was no need to describe anything ever again because there was nothing. Words and description were meaningless. Nothing was real. Nothing mattered! And this was, undoubtedly, the best news possible. The greatest realization I could wish to have. Yet that couldn’t begin to explain how good this was. It was way beyond any conception I could come up with. Everything, and everybody, was saved. That was clear. Everything was fine—now and forever. Nothing needed to be done, ever. The whole thing—life, death, reality, individuality, good, bad, right, wrong—was a lie. An illusion. A sham. Everything just was—just is. And this was perfection, beyond any belief, rationalization or label I could ever put on it. It made no sense, and it was perfect. It was before time itself. It transcended thought, was past my comprehension. Thought created all this suffering—and thought itself was not real. Without thought, all was grace—always. It was all blissfully and blatantly simple, yet totally illogical. I sat on that beach, thunderstruck. It was laughable. Whatever you thought, it didn’t matter. Thought had nothing to do with anything real. Everything was always perfect, no matter what you thought…

    Written by an award-winning journalist who has lived through her own parents’ midlife divorce, this practical, comforting guide includes advice on: • How to help your parents without getting caught in the middle• How to have tough conversations with your parents about money, property, and inheritance—theirs and yours• How to understand the complexities of infidelity and stepfamilies• How to rebuild relationships with each parent after the divorceFrom the Trade Paperback edition.

    The foreigner with a Scouse accent. The German who now plays cricket for his local village team. The overseas footballer turned anglophile who fell deeply in love with the city of Liverpool, its people and its eponymous football club.The classy midfielder had a long and distinguished playing career, but it was his seven seasons at Anfield that marked him out forever as a true Liverpool legend. His cult status was secured when he came off the bench at half-time during the 2005 Champions League final in Istanbul to inspire his team to a dramatic come-back and spectacular European glory.The Didi Man is Hamann's warm, personal and highly entertaining story of his time on Merseyside at a football club which will always have a very special place in his heart.

    Here, word for word is that amazing speech to inspire you to find what it is that you "Love".

    Personally, I think the eye-catching cover shot of me in my pajamas is reason enough. (By the way, those are my real kids on the cover, and yes, those are my actual ankles. No, I'm not retaining water.)What you're holding in your hands is a very funny and sometimes remarkably poignant look at fathers, not from the mother's point of view or the child's, but from the dad's side. Which is why it's called Tales from the Dad Side.It's filled with stories of what it's like to be a dad and a son, from a child's first day of kindergarten to the awkward sex talk and right up to the day the always-practical dad tries to pay for college with bonus miles. I was there for every landmark in my children's lives, except the day I was on the riding lawn mower and missed my son's first words, which my wife insists were “trust fund.”As children get older, the lessons of the father get harder, like teaching my son how to shave just as my father taught me, with a rusty double-edged safety razor. At the end of my dad's lesson, I emerged from the bathroom nicked and gouged, looking like an extra from a Quentin Tarantino film. My more civilized son is a Norelco man. With my high-school-age daughters, I promised them a day on which I'd take them anywhere and do anything with them they wanted, expecting them to ask for dinner and a movie; I was horrified when they told me they wanted all of us to get manicures and pedicures together. That was not the answer I was expecting; it was like discovering Lou Dobbs was an illegal alien.Over the course of raising three children, I have learned with my wife that fathers are different from mothers. That could be the greatest understatement since Noah turned on the Weather Channel and found out that the next forty days called for a 20 percent chance of light rain.The truth is, fatherhood is like Wikipedia: some parts based in fact, others just made up along the way. And while bookstores are filled with tales of mothers, their children and families, there are few from the dad's side. Now, as a public service, I'm doing my part to right this wrong.I sincerely hope this answers your questions. If perhaps it's not exactly your cup of tea, I bet you've got a father or mother in your life who'd like the stone-cold truth about dads. Besides, for the same money, you can either put three gallons of gas in your car or take home this book, which has a highway rating of 29 smiles an hour.Steve Doocy