Latest news with #Thanksgivings
Yahoo
15-04-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Church helps provide meals for Easter
CANFIELD, Ohio (WKBN) -Members of a local church did their part to help others enjoy a hot meal for Easter. This is the fourth year that parishioners at Saint Michael's in Canfield have collected hams and colored eggs and other items to be given to three local soup kitchens so they can provide a holiday meal later this week. This is the same church that has been gathering cooked turkeys at Thanksgiving for many years. 'It's a long way between Thanksgivings and people need help in between, so ham is so simple to do. You don't have to cook it ahead. It's already cooked for you,' said Juanita Sherba, a church member. For fun, organizers also asked specifically for colored eggs and then named the project after the Dr. Seuss classic 'Green Eggs and Ham.' 'It made it a lot of fun. I think people enjoyed it,' Sherba said. Wednesday's effort brought in 52 dozen eggs, some with inspirational messages on the shells, and 128 hams — enough to feed more than 5,000 people. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Fox News
07-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Fox News
PATRICIA HEATON: I'm a mom on screen and off. Building a family is a journey of love and commitment
Some know me as Debra Barone, others as Frankie Heck. To my four boys, I am simply "Mom" — the name I cherish most. Though they are now grown, I will never forget the first time Sam, John, Joe and Dan first said it. That single word, a milestone, formed a bond only a parent and child can understand. Yet, for many women facing infertility, that same word carries a pain only they can truly know. There has been much discussion lately about the importance of having children. But if the conversation stops there, we miss the bigger picture. It is not just about having kids — it is about having a sense of family. If we overlook that truth, we risk turning a deeply personal experience into a divisive debate. Family has always been at the heart of my life and career. Portraying mothers on screen and raising four sons with my husband, David Hunt, has given me profound insights into the joys and challenges of parenthood. Playing characters like Debra Barone in "Everybody Loves Raymond" and Frankie Heck in "The Middle" allowed me to explore the complexities of motherhood and family — its humor, chaos, and love — reflecting the diverse experiences that so many women navigate daily. Off-screen, my greatest role has been being "Mom." My life is permanently enriched by my sons — through the endless soccer games, band practices, school dances, Thanksgivings with kids running wild, summer vacations, bedtime stories, road trips, science fairs, driving lessons, pillow and blanket forts, college applications, playing catch in the back yard, school plays and so much more. But I know this journey to parenthood is not the same for everyone. April marks National Infertility Awareness Month. Here in the United States, approximately 12% of women aged 15 to 49 — more than 10 million — struggle to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term. The weight of infertility can feel overwhelming, made heavier by the assumption that becoming a parent is something that simply happens. The heartbreak of infertility is often lived in silence, which is why my husband, David, and I produced the feature adult comedy "Unexpected," a film about a couple navigating infertility and finding their unique path to family. Infertility is more than a medical condition. It is an emotional journey that tests identity, relationships, and faith. The societal expectation that parenthood is a given can make this journey even more isolating. But families are not defined solely by biology. Adoption, for instance, brings approximately 135,000 children into new loving homes each year. Yet, when discussing children in our culture, we rarely discuss what it means to build a family. The conversation often focuses on birth rates, fertility rates and the economic impact. But these numbers miss the real human experience. Every child deserves a loving home, and every hopeful parent deserves to know that there are many paths to creating a family — paths that deserve just as much recognition and support as traditional childbirth. My family, friends and audience members who have seen "Unexpected" and experienced infertility firsthand have shared how lonely it can be. For too long, they have felt overlooked in conversations about parenthood, as if their journey matters less. But it does matter. David and I hope "Unexpected" offers hope, reminding viewers that while the road to parenthood may be uncertain, the destination — a loving family — is possible in many ways. If we truly value family, we should recognize that building one is not a one-size-fits-all journey. A family's strength is not measured by how it is formed but by the love, commitment and faith that hold it together. From Debra Barone to Frankie Heck to Patricia Heaton, the throughline of my life has always been family. To those experiencing the uphill battle of building a family, I hope you find support to walk this path with others and faith to believe that your dreams of family — however they unfold — are possible.
Yahoo
27-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Milton's Urquhart House moving to new location — and it's not far
MILTON, Fla. (WKRG) — It's not something you see every day: a house moving down the street. It's all part of an effort to save one of Milton's historic treasures including the Urquhart House. Sink or save? Group starts petition to fight against SS United States from becoming artificial reef Built in 1941, the house was home to the Urquhart family, owners of the former JW Urquhart's Grocery & Market in the heart of downtown Milton. 'It's really a core part of the history of this community, their family, their store, and we want to be able to share that moving forward,' Santa Rosa Historical Society secretary Vernon Compton said. Nearby residents watched, many taking photos as the house made its journey down Canal Street. Crews helped navigate it through trees and other roadblocks. The home carries with it lots of memories for the Urquhart grandchildren. 'All the Christmases and Thanksgivings, the smell of my grandmother's kitchen,' Joseph Warner said. 'Being in her house. The backyard. Her flowers. Lots of good memories,' Debby Urquhart Schepper said. Until now, the home sat on property belonging to the First Baptist Church of Milton. The church has partnered with the Santa Rosa Historical Society to restore this piece of Northwest Florida History. 'To have all this happen is just really an honor,' Warner said. 'We're just very, very thankful and appreciative that everyone stepped up and made this happen.' The house will eventually open its doors once again as a museum in Milton's Historic District — where the Urquharts' impact on the Milton community will live on. FIRST LOOK inside the building bringing commercial flights to Gulf Shores International Airport 'I'm just really excited just to show the history that our family had for this community,' Urquhart Schepper said. 'We're just very grateful to the community, and I know that Granny and Grandaddy and their children also are looking down and are also grateful,' Kathryn Williams said. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Boston Globe
14-02-2025
- General
- Boston Globe
From Timothy Leary to Melkite seminarians, my house has a storied history of occupants
Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up But what drew us to the house wasn't its history. We saw it as an ideal place for our blended family. Though our six kids — three of mine and three of his — wouldn't always be at home, the ample space the house offered meant that they'd know there was a place for each of them here. Advertisement That night, we brought the volumes upstairs. The long-lost Timothy Leary journals, I thought, as I dusted them off. Nope. Inside were ledger pages, filled with tiny handwriting recording a decade of financial records from St. Gregory's. Every donation was listed, as well as columns detailing cash disbursements, mortgage payments, retirement funds, and household expenses. I tried to reach the seminary but got no leads. I occasionally studied the volumes in search of what clues they might divulge about this house and its onetime inhabitants. I read about Leary and thought about him sleeping in what was now our bedroom, or him writing in the small adjacent office where I now worked. The house as it looked when it was the St. Gregory The Theologian Seminary in the 1970s and '80s. from Tova mirvis While my interest in the past was an occasional hobby, the actual needs of the house were more pressing. All too regularly, I called plumbers, electricians, and critter control. But as this steady stream of repairs was taking place, we were busy living there. We had Thanksgivings with all six kids, and on Sunday nights, enjoyed barbecues on the porches the seminary had added as prayer chapels. I still groaned when the latest problem cropped up but came to feel like I was not just the house's owner: However unlikely it might be, I was a caretaker of its history. Timothy Leary, the Melkite seminarians, and now me. Advertisement One day there was a knock on the front door. An elderly man wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a clerical collar stood on the doorstep. 'I used to live here,' he said. I invited him inside and offered a tour. 'It looks different, but feels like yesterday,' he said, upon seeing his old bedroom, the quirky upstairs bathroom, and my son's room, painted in bold shades of Bruins yellow and Red Sox blue and red. Back downstairs, I showed him the ledgers. Startled, he stared at the faint blue pen lines. 'That's my handwriting,' he said, his veined hands tracing the words his younger self had written. Relieved, I offered them to him, but he shook his head. 'They've been here all this time,' he said. 'They might as well stay.' He handed me a stack of photos from when the seminarians had first moved in. In the kitchen, he took one last look. 'That stovetop always caused trouble,' he said. 'It still does,' I replied. After a decade in the house, we're thinking about selling. As bittersweet as this upcoming change feels, in the long view, we're but one more set of temporary inhabitants in this house in which we became a family. The house and its history will once again be passed on. Advertisement Tova Mirvis is a writer in Newton. Her new novel We Would Never was just published. TELL YOUR STORY. Email your 650-word unpublished essay on a relationship to connections@ Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won't pursue.
Los Angeles Times
07-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
L.A. Affairs: We had a good connection. Why did he break up with me before Valentine's Day?
We met at the car wash. Seated in the shade, we struck up a conversation about our Thanksgivings. He asked to meet the next day at Lifeguard Tower 17 to surf. When I showed up, Jon, already in the water, waved and smiled at me. We surfed together, fulfilling a romantic dream. We laughed in between waves. On our second date, we lunched at a Japanese restaurant, where he asked about my values and dreams. We realized how alike we were. On our third date, we held hands as we walked our rescue dogs in a park. Two months in, he asked, 'Can I propose to you after six months?' I said, 'Yes.' Three months in, he drove me around his ideal neighborhood, asking if I could see myself living there and joking that he, his daughters and I would all watch 'Chopped' together. I wanted it all: the proposal, the neighborhood, the two daughters, him. But Jon broke up with me — a day before Valentine's Day — in a rambling voicemail. I was so confused that I emailed him for clarification. He wasn't ready to settle down until his daughters left for college, and he had to overcome his ex-wife's infidelity. I believed we'd eventually reunite like in a rom-com: We'd paddle through waves and kiss across our surfboards. Yet on the summer solstice, I spotted his SUV at the beach. My eyes jumped to his white surfboard and an unfamiliar blue board on top of his car. I panicked, wondering whose surfboard lay atop his. After all, Jon had recently texted me about surfing together again. Hearing from him had appeased my bruised ego. Spotting the surfboards piqued my curiosity. With the crowd, I remained unseen, trudging toward the water, while trying to catch sight of him and his surf partner. My annual solstice dip didn't produce any elation. Instead, confusion and jealousy had settled in. Leaving, I spotted Jon beside a woman with a tanned body, her bikini top overflowing with D cups above a toned belly. I never saw her face. With his texts, Jon had buttered me up: how great my cooking is, how nice I am to my dogs, how cute I am. Then he called, and I answered. He wanted to surf, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. I needed more mea culpa. And just like that, he disappeared. But there he snuggled beside a perfect body — a far cry from my petite, curvy self. Days later, Stacey, a CrossFit acquaintance, posted a picture standing beside a surfboard with a red stripe down the middle, a board like Jon's. A few weeks later, she messaged me, admitting she was dating Jon, and saying if he showed up at CrossFit functions, she didn't want me to be surprised. Two days later, I'd be volunteering at an event Stacey was competing in. She signed off with 'I hope there are no hard feelings.' I responded: 'Absolutely no hard feelings. Kick some ass in your competition.' And I added a smiley face emoji. The relief of knowing lasted 20 minutes. I thought I'd obsess less now, instead, a new problem presented itself: Why her and not me? At the event, Stacey complimented me on how cute I looked. (I worked cleavage, braided pigtails and a trucker hat.) A minor victory for me. When our eyes met, Jon and I nodded at each other from across the competition area. As I was leaving, he signaled for me to stop. After amicable chitchat, he asked why he never saw me around. 'I was surprised when I saw your car at San Onofre,' I told him. That's a surf spot about 20 miles south of our local spot. When we dated, we never left our ZIP Code. 'Why didn't we see you out there? You should have said hi.' I must have made a face because he added, 'We're all adults. You should have surfed with us.' 'I'm not going to surf with you two.' 'It's not like we're all kumbaya out there,' Jon said. About a week later, while walking on the beach, I spotted Jon and Stacey surfing off the lifeguard tower Jon and I surfed at and the same break where we kissed in between sets. Stacey and Jon had now been together longer than we were, yet I still struggled with their coupledom. She signed him up as her plus-one for the CrossFit holiday party. I didn't go. I stopped going to all CrossFit events. I quit surfing at the beach where we had surfed together and where I first stood up on a board. But Jon and I weren't a great fit. I had ignored red flags because he was cute, funny and kind, and he loved the ocean too. But my heart, my brain and my ego would not accept his new relationship. I felt like the epitome of a cliché: wanting what I couldn't have. Although I didn't want him, my self-esteem plummeted when I saw Stacey because I could only think: Why did she win? I eventually realized I was only punishing myself. I translated Jon and Stacey's successful relationship into a score: She won, I lost; he won, I lost. When I finally returned to CrossFit's holiday party a year later — solo — Stacey came with a new boyfriend. How did that happen? Two relationships to my none. Two weeks later, Stacey and I attended a workout, which coincided with her birthday. I asked about her plans. 'My boyfriend's cooking me dinner. Not Jon. My new boyfriend.' Then, she smiled. Between sets, I mustered up the courage to say, 'Speaking of Jon, I owe you an apology for giving you bad vibes when you were dating him. That was my issue.' 'You never did, but I understood why it would have been hard on you.' I thanked her and realized I'd forced myself into a competition that neither Stacey nor I needed to be in. Jon was never the prize. And I didn't need to apologize to her. I needed to forgive myself for the unnecessary pain I added to a difficult situation. I doubted myself so much. I gave them power over me, my workouts and my time on my board, on the waves and in my beloved ocean. The author teaches creative writing at a local arts high school. She's on Instagram: @littlemighty L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@ You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
