Category: Inspiration

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There IS No Valid Reason To Be Lonely! You Have A Skill. Have The Courage To Share It!

Kathy

“Every afternoon, 68-year-old Kathy set up two folding chairs and a chalkboard on her porch. Rain or shine, she’d write, “Homework help. Free. All ages.” Her neighbors in the quiet town of Cedar Hills thought she was wasting her retirement. “Kids today have tutors and iPads,” muttered Mrs. Jenny, watering her roses. But Kathy had a reason. Her husband, a former principal, had passed last year, leaving her his favorite quote “A mind left untaught is a door left unlocked.”

The first visitor was Manny, a 9-year-old who’d missed three weeks of school after his dad lost his job. “I don’t get fractions,” he mumbled, kicking a pebble. Kathy handed him a cookie and drew a pizza on the chalkboard.. “Let’s split it into slices. Your turn.” By sunset, Manny was grinning. “So that’s how it works!”

Word spread slowly. A single mom, working nights at the hospital, left her daughter Lily with Kathy. A shy teenager, Jake, slunk over to “borrow notes” but stayed to learn poetry. Kathy’s porch became a mosaic of mismatched chairs, dog-eared textbooks, and laughter. Retired engineers taught algebra. A former librarian read stories aloud. Even Manny’s dad joined, brushing up on Excel for job interviews.

Then came the letter.

“CEASE & DESIST. Unlicensed educational activity.”

The town council called it a “safety hazard.” Kathy’s son begged her to quit. “You’re risking fines!”

The next morning, 30 kids and parents crowded Kathy’s lawn, holding protest signs, “Our brains need her!” “Where’s the harm in kindness?” A local reporter filmed Jake reciting a poem he’d written, “Her porch is our castle. Her chalkboard, our shield.”

The council caved. Sort of.

“You can use the old rec center. But no budget. Fix it yourself.”
Volunteers transformed the crumbling building. Teens painted murals of books. Carpenters built desks from donated wood. A grandmother knitted cushions. They called it “The Open Door Learning Center.” Teachers donated supplies. Parents traded shifts for snacks.
Last week, Lily won a statewide essay contest. Her topic? “The lady who unlocked my world.”

Kathy still sits on her porch some days, sipping tea. The chalkboard now reads, “Knowledge is a seed. Plant it anywhere.”

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The Fixit Hub

George

“When 79-year-old George retired, he didn’t buy a golf club or a hammock. He hung a handmade sign in his garage window: “Broken things? Bring ’em here. No charge. Just tea and talk.”
His neighbors in the faded mill town of Maple Grove thought he’d lost it. “Who fixes stuff for free?” grumbled the barber. But George had a reason. His wife, Ruth, had spent decades repairing torn coats and cracked picture frames for anyone who knocked. “Waste is a habit,” she’d say. “Kindness is the cure.”
She’d died the year before, and George’s hands itched to mend what she’d left behind.
The first visitor was 8-year-old Mia, dragging a plastic toy truck with a missing wheel. “Dad says we can’t afford a new one,” she mumbled. George rummaged through his toolbox, humming. An hour later, the truck rolled again—this time with a bottle cap for a wheel and a stripe of silver duct tape. “Now it’s custom ,” he winked. Mia left smiling, but her mother lingered. “Can you… fix a résumé?” she asked. “I’ve been stuck on the couch since the factory closed.”
By noon, George’s garage buzzed. A widow brought a shattered clock (“My husband wound it every Sunday”). A teen carried a leaky backpack. George fixed them all, but he didn’t work alone. Retired teachers proofread résumés. A former seamstress stitched torn backpacks. Even Mia returned, handing him a jar of jam: “Mom says thanks for the job interview.”
Then came the complaint.
“Unlicensed business,” snapped the city inspector. “You’re violating zoning laws.”
Maple Grove’s mayor, a man with a spreadsheet heart, demanded George shut down. The next morning, 40 townsfolk stood on George’s lawn, holding broken toasters, torn quilts, and protest signs: “Fix the law, not just stuff!” A local reporter filmed a segment: “Is kindness illegal?”
The mayor caved. Sort of.
“If you want to ‘fix’ things, do it downtown,” he said. “Rent the old firehouse. But no guarantees.”
The firehouse became a hive. Volunteers gutted it, painted it sunshine yellow, and dubbed it “Ruth’s Hub.” Plumbers taught plumbing. Teenagers learned to darn socks. A baker swapped muffins for repaired microwaves. The town’s waste dropped by 30%.
But the real magic? Conversations. A lonely widow fixed a lamp while a single dad patched a bike tire. They talked about Ruth. About loss. About hope.
Last week, George found a note in his mailbox. It was from Mia, now 16, interning at a robotics lab. “You taught me to see value in broken things. I’m building a solar-powered prosthetic arm. PS: The truck still runs!”
Today, 12 towns across the state have “Fix-It Hubs.” None charge money. All serve tea.
Funny, isn’t it? How a man with a screwdriver can rebuild a world.”
While George from Maple Grove may be fictional, but it is inspired by real people around the world, who have done remarkably similar things. Here are a few inspiring real-life individuals and movements that mirror the spirit of the story:
1. Martine Postma – Founder of the Repair Café Movement (Netherlands). In 2009, Martine launched the first Repair Café in Amsterdam. Volunteers fix broken household items for free — from lamps to toasters. The idea has since grown into an international movement with over 2,000 locations worldwide. Her motivation: to reduce waste and bring communities together.
2. Kyle Wiens – Founder of iFixit. An American entrepreneur who started iFixit, a free online repair guide for electronics. While not a community café, iFixit empowers people to repair rather than discard their tech.
3. Sugru and the “Fixpert” Community (UK) : Sugru, a moldable glue brand, helped launch the “Fixperts” initiative. Volunteers use their fixing skills to help others — often students, designers, or retired professionals. It’s a global network of story-based fixers who share their repair work for social good.
4. The Men’s Sheds Movement (Australia, now global) : Started in Australia in the 1990s to combat isolation among older men. Sheds became workshops where men could fix things, build projects, and connect over shared skills. There are now thousands of Men’s Sheds worldwide, providing free repairs, mentorship, and community support.
5. Peter Mui – Founder of Fixit Clinic (USA) : Started in 2009 in California, Fixit Clinic is a traveling event where people bring broken items and learn to repair them. Peter focuses on teaching repair skills, not just doing the repairs. Clinics now take place in libraries, makerspaces, and schools around the U.S.
These people and groups may not have started in their garage with tea and duct tape, but they embody the same values: community, sustainability, kindness, and empowerment through repair.
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Permaculture Passion

Permaculture Passion

Ten years ago, I learned the truth about our food system and it broke my heart. But it also planted a seed that changed my life.

The Radical Garden is my current passion project, or maybe it’s more of a mission. A living, breathing response to the ecological crises we face and a personal act of resistance and regeneration.

I first learned about the scale of environmental destruction while studying at university in Wisconsin. Like many, I was shocked by the reality: climate change, deforestation, mass species loss and at the center of it all, the industrial food system. I felt overwhelmed, anxious, even hopeless. And perhaps worst of all, I felt I was participating in the problem every time I ate.
Alongside that despair at the same time, I discovered a lifeline. A solution so simple and powerful that it changed the course of my life: growing our own food. I joined a local community garden and began learning from my first mentor, Wes. From there, I dove into studying regenerative agriculture, working on organic farms, WWOOFing, and taking permaculture courses.

All of that has led to this: The Radical Garden.

A small-scale, regenerative garden (just 50 x 50 feet) designed to show what’s possible in a fraction of an average American lawn. This is a living experiment in what any family can grow and manage with intention and consistency.

It’s a closed-loop system, a soil-building, biodiversity-boosting, food-producing powerhouse. My goal is to generate at least 80% of the compost needed from within the system itself, and to grow enough food to feed myself and my partner year-round. (Honestly, I think it could feed more.)

But this isn’t just all about food. It’s about reclaiming power. Healing disconnection. Taking real, tangible steps toward a more regenerative way of living. My hope is to make this as replicable as possible to share with others.

The Radical Garden is really my simple message to the world. It’s where I turn eco-anxiety into action. It’s where I become the kind of person I believe the future needs.

And I hope it inspires you to do the same.

 

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Angela Lansbury

Angela Lansbury

During the production of “Murder, She Wrote” (1984-1996), Angela Lansbury’s generosity changed the course of a struggling actor’s career. The young performer faced severe stage fright, leading to multiple retakes that frustrated the crew and raised concerns among producers. His role was at risk, but Lansbury personally intervened, inviting him to rehearse privately. She helped him refine his lines and manage his anxiety, ensuring he delivered a steady performance. Her guidance not only salvaged the scene but also reinforced his confidence. Years later, the actor credited her support as a pivotal moment that saved his career.

Lansbury’s dedication to nurturing talent was deeply ingrained in her approach to acting. She understood the pressure of the industry, having started her own career at a young age. Her breakthrough role in “Gaslight” (1944) earned her an Academy Award nomination at just 19. Throughout the years, she worked with numerous struggling actors, often mentoring them on and off set. Her belief in fostering new talent was evident in “Murder, She Wrote,” where she advocated for casting lesser-known actors, giving many their first major television roles.

Her kindness extended beyond individual mentorship. She often took the time to acknowledge the efforts of crew members, ensuring a supportive working environment. Many co-stars recalled instances where she stepped in to mediate conflicts or spoke up for underappreciated colleagues. Her commitment to fairness even led her to negotiate with network executives to secure better pay for cast members and crew. Unlike many leading actors who focused solely on their performances, Lansbury viewed television production as a collaborative effort.

She once recalled how early in her career, she had witnessed seasoned actors dismiss or belittle younger performers.

Determined not to repeat such behavior, she made a conscious effort to be approachable. On “Murder, She Wrote,” she would often spend time between takes chatting with guest actors, ensuring they felt comfortable. For those struggling with dialogue, she would rehearse lines with them rather than leave them to figure it out alone. These efforts created an atmosphere where actors, regardless of their experience, felt valued and capable of delivering their best work.

Her generosity also extended to financial assistance. She discreetly helped actors and crew members facing personal hardships. In one instance, she learned that a longtime crew member was dealing with medical expenses beyond his means.

Without seeking recognition, she covered the costs, allowing him to continue working without financial distress. Such acts of kindness remained largely private, revealed only years later by those who had benefitted from her support.

Even seasoned actors acknowledged her influence. Co-stars like Len Cariou and Jerry Orbach praised her ability to balance authority and warmth, describing her as a leader who ensured professionalism without creating an intimidating atmosphere. Some actors who had struggled in other productions found working with Lansbury to be a transformative experience, as she provided not only acting guidance but also emotional support during difficult moments.

Beyond “Murder, She Wrote,” Lansbury continued offering guidance to younger actors in her later projects. Whether on stage in productions like “Blithe Spirit” (2009) or in voice roles such as “Beauty and the Beast” (1991), she remained committed to supporting her colleagues. Her kindness was not a calculated effort to enhance her reputation but an instinctive part of who she was.

Angela Lansbury passed away on October 11, 2022, at the age of 96. She died peacefully in her sleep at her Los Angeles home, just five days before her 97th birthday. In her final years, she remained in close contact with many of the actors and crew members she had mentored, offering advice and encouragement long after their professional collaborations had ended.

Those who knew her best remembered her not only as an accomplished actress but also as a person who profoundly influenced the lives of those around her. Her generosity, both on and off set, left a lasting impression on Hollywood, ensuring that her legacy was defined not only by her performances but also by the countless people she uplifted along the way.

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Quote of the Day

“Choose always the way that seems the best, however rough it may be; custom will soon render it easy and agreeable.” Pythagoras – Mathematician (582 – 497 BC)

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Rutger Hauer

Rutger Hauer

The fight scene had been rehearsed a dozen times already. The set of “Blind Fury” (1989) was buzzing with energy, crew members moving quickly between takes, resetting props and angles for the next sequence. Rutger Hauer stood in position, sword in hand, awaiting the cue for a high-intensity stunt involving a moving vehicle and a carefully timed fall. No one expected anything to go wrong until it did.

Rutger Hauer, known for his intensity and precision, was filming a scene where his character, the blind swordsman Nick Parker, battles attackers while navigating obstacles. A stuntman was to perform a controlled fall near a rapidly moving car, stopping inches short of impact. But as the car approached and the cameras rolled, something in the timing faltered. The fall was late, and in that split second, disaster was imminent.

Without hesitation, Hauer broke character mid-action and lunged forward, pulling the stuntman by the collar and out of the car’s path. The crew froze, the director yelled “Cut!”, and for a few moments, the set went completely silent. What could’ve ended in a critical injury was narrowly avoided because of Hauer’s instincts.

Stunt coordinator John C. Meier later recalled, “It was one of those moments where your heart sinks, and then you realize what just happened. Rutger moved faster than anyone else could’ve reacted. He saw it before the rest of us did.” He wasn’t supposed to deviate from the choreography, but his awareness transcended the script.

The stuntman, a seasoned professional who had worked on multiple action films in the 1980s, admitted that the mishap was partially his fault. “The car came in half a second too early, and I slipped slightly as I pushed off,” he said in an interview years later. “Rutger saved me. No question about it. I could feel the wind from that bumper.”

What made Hauer’s reaction extraordinary wasn’t just the physical speed, but the calm decisiveness in a chaotic moment. Those present noticed he didn’t flinch or panic. One crew member described it as “watching someone who was in complete command, like he wasn’t acting anymore, he just was that guy.”

“Blind Fury” was already a demanding shoot. A remake of the Japanese film “Zatoichi Challenged,” it blended martial arts, dark humor, and emotional depth, all balanced on Hauer’s shoulders. He had immersed himself in the role of a blind Vietnam veteran turned wandering swordsman, learning movement patterns of visually impaired individuals and studying swordplay with martial arts trainers. He spent long hours with real-life blind consultants to get the smallest details right. By the time filming reached its mid-point, he wasn’t merely performing a character, he was living inside one.

The incident changed the atmosphere on set. Hauer, already admired for his talent, earned a new layer of respect. The stunt team, many of whom had worked with major stars, spoke in quiet admiration behind the scenes. As one veteran stuntman put it, “You don’t expect the lead actor to be the one who saves your skin. They usually stay out of it. Rutger didn’t even hesitate.”

What followed wasn’t some grand celebration. Hauer brushed off the praise, humbly nodding to the stunt team and returning to the set for the next take. But word spread fast. Even those not present during the incident talked about it days later. Director Phillip Noyce mentioned in an interview that Hauer’s attitude on set, always focused, never ego-driven, was part of what made “Blind Fury” (1989) work as both an action movie and a character study.
In a genre often built on illusion, Rutger Hauer delivered something very real. His instincts weren’t part of the choreography, but they saved a man’s life and earned him a permanent place in the respect of those who risk theirs for cinematic thrills.

On that day, Hauer proved that heroes don’t always live in the script; they sometimes live in the space between seconds.

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Dr Andrew Wakefield 30 Years On

Dr Andrew Wakefield 30 Years On

In a gripping revelation, Dr. Andrew Wakefield recounts his journey from 1995, when parents of previously healthy children contacted him, reporting a devastating regression after the MMR vaccine. These children, once vibrant with speech and social skills, lost their abilities, their eyes “glazing over” as they descended into autism. As a gastroenterologist, Dr. Wakefield was stunned—not by vaccines, which he dutifully administered, but by the consistent parental accounts of gut issues, pain, and developmental collapse. Despite no prior autism expertise, he listened—an act medicine often forgets. Parents described intractable diarrhea, bloating, and failure to thrive, dismissed by doctors as “just autism.” Dr. Wakefield assembled a world-class team, including leading pediatric gastroenterologist Prof. John Walker-Smith. Their findings? Inflammation in the children’s bowels, treatable with anti-inflammatories and dietary changes like gluten and dairy removal. Astonishingly, not only did gut symptoms improve, but cognitive abilities—lost words, lost connections—began to return. In 1998, Dr. Wakefield’s Lancet study reported these clinical findings, explicitly stating it did not prove a causal link between MMR and autism, urging further research. Yet, the world erupted. Accused of claiming vaccines cause autism—a claim he never made—Dr. Wakefield faced a brutal backlash. The study was misrepresented, and myths of retraction swirled (it wasn’t retracted by him). Powerful interests—pharma, government, WHO—were offended. His career was threatened, his name vilified, not for fraud, but for daring to listen to parents and report what he found. Dr. Wakefield’s story exposes a chilling truth: medicine’s arrogance silenced a doctor who prioritized patients over policy. Autism rates have soared—1 in 2,500 in 1966, 1 in 36 today, 1 in 20 boys. Parents were right about the gut-brain link, right about regression, right about dietary interventions. Yet, the system chose to “cut the head off” the messenger.

https://x.com/newstart_2024/status/1924930381230260380