๐๐ฎ๐น๐น ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐น๐ฎ๐๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฒ
We are excited to announce the inductees for the 2026 Oklahoma State Athletics Hall of Honor class. ๐ค
Read more here โก๏ธ https://t.co/TXWJhMzyXe
โ All-American
โ Big 12 Player of the Year
โ 2004 Final Four
โ 2008 NBA Champion
โ 6ร NBA All-Defensive Team
โ OSU Athletics Hall of Honor
Congratulations, @aa000G9!
@stephaniestwdds Thank you, Steph! Itโs pretty easy when itโs something youโre so passionate about. Those guys were the best and I miss them terribly.
"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.
Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.
Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."
So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."
Let this story reach more hearts....
Credit: Mary Nelson
๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ง๐ข ๐๐ฉ๐จ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ: ๐๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ
Congratulations to 2003-06 alumna @Lace4121 for leading Mustang HS to a fastpitch state championship this fall! ๐ค
What happens when you drink 10 oz of Magnesium Citrate?
Iโm glad you asked. Buckle up.
12:05 p.m. โ It begins. You down the 10-ounce bottle like itโs a lukewarm PBR at a college tailgate. The label says โcherry flavored,โ but it tastes like someone described cherry to a chemist whoโs never eaten fruit. Regret sets in instantly.
12:06 p.m. โ You grab a handful of chips for moral support. Theyโll be liquified before they clear your throat, but who cares? Life still feels okay right now. Remember this peace. Youโre about to enter the darkest chapter of your gastrointestinal history.
12:37 p.m. โ The rumbling starts. Thereโs movement in the depths. Youโve got five pounds of impacted regret in your colon, and you just drank the โhuman-safeโ version of Drano. You think itโs go time. Itโs not. You get one sad little snake turd โ a warm-up act.
Thatโs the last semi-solid youโll see for the next 24 hours.
12:57 p.m. โ The situation escalates. Your stomach is in full revolt. You have 0.3 seconds to make it to the toilet. Running is risky business โ one wrong step and youโll paint the walls. You pray for sphincter strength like never before as you waddle at Mach 3, pants half down, whispering, โPlease, God, not like this.โ
12:58 p.m. โ Impact.
You sit, and the gates of hell open.
The explosion is biblical. It hits the back of the bowl with such violent force it ricochets like a sprinkler system.
You ask yourself, Is that blood?
No โ false alarm. Just the ghost of a cherry pie you ate in 2004. The smell is unspeakable. The acoustics? Terrifying. The neighbors think youโre performing an exorcism.
1:06 p.m. โ 8:30 p.m. โ Time becomes meaningless. Youโve evacuated everything youโve ever eaten, plus a few ancestral meals for good measure. Your colon feels like itโs been sandblasted with lava. The burn is real. Youโre sweating. Crying. Contemplating life. You meet Jesus briefly, but He sends you back โ says your missionโs not over yet.
8:37 p.m. โ Youโre empty. Broken. Reborn.
Your butthole? A war veteran.
Your spirit? In recovery.
Youโll never be the same, but you will survive.
Tomorrow, youโll rise from the ashes, slip into your last clean pair of underwear, and waddle into Walmart like a survivor of gastrointestinal warfare โ to buy a new toilet brush and reclaim your dignity.
Youโve earned it.
Feeling thankful. ๐ฉ๐
Never done one of these bar race graphs and thought it might be fun to see a timeline accumulation of Top8๏ธโฃ Finishes in D1 #NCAAGolf history
Think I will do the same for men's and women's D1-3 very soon
SAVED. HIS. BEST. FOR. LAST. ๐ฅ
Blair Anderson takes SECOND PLACE at the NCAA Outdoor Championships with an all-conditions personal best of 8.02 meters (+2.4) ๐คฏ
#GoPokes I #NCAATF
๐ด๐จ๐ฑ๐จ ๐บ๐ป๐จ๐น๐ฒ: ๐ผ๐บ ๐ถ๐ท๐ฌ๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด๐ท๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต๐๐บ๐ธ
Maja dominates Erin Hills and becomes the second former Cowgirl to win a major championship๐ค
Championships prove that Stillwater, Oklahoma, is home to ๐จ๐๐๐๐๐๐โ๐ ๐ฎ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐.
#golfschool | @maja_stark_1