They did not talk about their mom's extended absences or why their dad put Scotch tape on the backdoor frame. To cover up the chaos, they kept their clothes neat and got good grades. But when they were teenagers, an arson fire destroyed their home and killed their parents. Rumors were thick that summer that smart, angry, fourteen-year-old Lisa set the blaze. Then, adult powers they did not understand squelched the investigation. As teenagers accustomed to keeping silent, they packed up and moved on.Forty years later, Leigh, the oldest, decided it was time to find out who killed their parents. She obtained copies of the police and fire investigations and began unwrapping the past. This memoir is the story of that investigation as Leigh tried to piece together the truth, but found more lies instead. With the help of her sisters, Leigh was able to reconstruct much of what happened to them in the beach towns around Atlantic City in the early 1970s. After the fire, one sister turned to heroin and another to alcohol; Leigh became Miss Atlantic City. Then, one by one, they each moved to California and shut the door on their past, even though they privately wondered whether one of them killed Frank and Nancy Overton. It's funny. They never wondered whether one of their parents was trying to kill them.

    His photographic memory takes the reader along on his journey from the dusty maidansof Mumbai to the world stage as the diminutive batsman faces up to the fearsome West Indian andPakistani pace attacks.In his precise plainspeak, Sanjay reflects on his father Vijay Manjrekar, and the effects of thatlegend on his game; comments on the complex equations with the India greats with whom he sharedthe dressing room and on the lessons learnt from his opponents; and reveals his own excruciatingobsession with batting technique, the quest for perfection, and the battle to try to shake off hismental shackles.This remarkable memoir sets a new standard for cricket writing in India, with significant life lessonsfor those who aren t cricket fans as well.

    He did not claim he was God’s agent. Did he believe in God? Did he look for a sign when he was desperate? Did he follow the Divine Will? Many believers are not followers; many followers are not believers. Is he a believer or a follower or both?

    1973, Indian badminton player.

    

    There was no immediate response on my part, only a deep sense of fear entombed by a completely paralyzed inner spirit. Much to my surprise, he spoke again: "Sir, you've waited too long to get here. You're not going to make it." And he continued: "If you believe in God, this is the time to make peace." In that very moment, I said to myself, "What do you mean, 'If you believe in God?' Of course I believe in God! I'm a man of faith and a Catholic priest!" Fr. John Tourangeau, O. Praem., a Norbertine priest who had an afterlife experience following a major heart attack, emphatically states, "Heaven is for real!" Within this enlightening and hope-filled book, Fr. John weaves a powerful and dynamic tapestry of the Kingdom of God at hand through the exploration of Christian tradition, Sacred Scripture, Catholic teaching, as well as his own lived experiences. "While the fullness of heaven cannot be fully experienced in our life here on earth," Father explains, "we are able to more fully experience God's love for us through our relationships with others. For it is in and through these relationships that we draw closer to Christ and his promise for us."

    A collection of humorous hospital stories and events as witnessed by a frequently incarcerated patient and told from a patient's point of view while secured and gagged in a hospital bed.Stories and tales from a lifetime of hospital admissions, showing that hospital life as a patient is not all doom and gloom.

    It is a story about a boy lost in life, the system and finally found. It is a moving and troubling sotry to read

     1988 would prove to be the worst drought since the ‘dustbowl’ of the 1930’s.  Yellowstone would burn,  Ronald Reagan would shake his fist at the 'Evil Empire', and the author, oblivious to it all, hit the road and never looked back. That trip would consume the entire summer, logging over twelve thousand miles from sea to sea and back.  “Alone In The Wind” is the account of that trip, with pictures, maps, historical & geographical notes, and rolling narrative. A few selected excerpts: The early evening sun is bright red and except for wind slapping the tents, all is quiet.  Other campers are talking in subdued tones.  The  scene has a timeless quality I can’t explain.  Maybe it’s how I’d picture an Oregon Trail  camp.  Everybody too exhausted to do more than whisper, anticipating the day ahead, trying to forget the ones behind. Kurt Vonnegut might have written that the Custer annihilation occurred solely to provide me with a ranger to give advice on the coming storms.  That irony rattled around in my helmet for the next forty miles. Chewing mindlessly I stare at passing trucks with red eyes.  This has been an endless, grueling day.  A far cry from the mystical experience that other writers claim.  The bone numbing reality of motorcycle touring is exhaustion, dehydration, disorientation. Vacant eyes seem to be nothing more than rubber stoppers that keep my liquefied brains from spilling out over my face. Carved out by the tides, the cave is probably underwater for most of the day.  At the entrance is a rock with a well-formed depression at the top.  Without thinking I dump both bottles of Atlantic Ocean into that shallow basin, move deeper into the cave and sit.  There’s a lot on my mind, and it all seems to be demanding immediate attention.  The mission will be accomplished.  The oceans will unite.  It will take a few hours, and I won’t be here to see it, but this is a better way.  Letting the sea take it on its own terms seems more fitting. Heat was the real problem.  Both the heat of a western summer day and the heat thrown off an air-cooled engine that's being pushed to its limits.   While it was never transcendental, the passage was always very real, very immediate, and unforgettable.  Thinking back to the other riders that I met, it seemed the same for them as well.  They were all worn down with fatigue and loneliness - while at the same time brimming over with confidence and satisfaction. I won't forget them.

    It will keep you entertained for hours. It's the very unusual story of Paul Henry - from his eventful childhood to his adventurous career in journalism to his recent outrageous comments on television which divided the country.A natural-born story teller, Paul spins many great yarns in this book. It's fascinating insight into his complex character. He's surprising -- he doesn't adhere to any prescribed set of beliefs. He's bold -- he set himself up as an international news correspondent working out of his Masterton lounge. And he's versatile -- turning his hand to running a cafe, running for Parliament and running from terrorists.