What makes someone great at what they do? What propels them to the top of the pack?
From the beginning, Auburn’s Nikkolis O’Neal took a special interest in how things worked mechanically. It was his way of finding order in a distracted, often confused world of learning inside a crowded classroom.
Ever met one of those people who seemingly can do everything? I know a guy like that.
He speaks approximately 47 different languages fluently, including Esperanto.
He can play 14 musical instruments – simultaneously.
And yet, I recently found out something he doesn’t know how to do – at all. Amazingly, he doesn’t know how to swim.
The Washington State Republican convention last weekend in Spokane should have been dull and uneventful.
All they had to do was approve a slate of national convention delegates to support the obvious nominee, John McCain, vote for a short, concise party platform and leave town.
Instead the tenacious Ron Paul people, who made up more than a third of the delegates, contested the McCain forces on virtually every front.
It was a drizzly, cold evening May 21 at the James Street Park and Ride lot in Kent.
But the inclement weather didn’t stop a band of cyclists from the task at hand: riding an 11-mile route to acknowledge the untimely deaths of their comrades.
The event was the Ride of Silence, a worldwide rolling gesture aimed at those who share the road with cyclists, walkers and runners. And it was Kent’s first foray into the event.
A recent editorial in the Auburn Reporter might have left some readers with the impression that high-cost tolls were being proposed in our region with no thought toward diversion to local streets, the real costs to commuters or concern for personal privacy at a time when technology often leap frogs public policies designed to protect it.
OK, you decide. Last week President Bush, in a long speech commemorating the 60th anniversary of Israel’s founding, made the following statements to the Israeli Knesset (our equivalent of Congress).
His race for Dufur public office was not going well. The voters in Dufur (DOO-fur), a small town in Oregon, were leaning to his opponent in overwhelming numbers – or at least as overwhelming as a town of 500 can muster.