Tami Brooks

Pediatrician, wife and mother

[Tami Brooks @TBrooks67]

🐾🐾

[SportsCenter @SportsCenter]

"WHO LET THE DOGS OUT" 😂🐶

The entire Knicks team did Mike Brown's bark chant again 😭

[Tami Brooks @TBrooks67]

@HailStateBB Worth every minute spent in Athens! Hail State! 🐾💗🐾

[SportsCenter @SportsCenter]

Mississippi State wasn't having it 👀

[The Husky @Mr_Husky1]

A 12-year-old girl walked into a deli in Staten Island, New York, clutching her report card. She was nervous. Not about the grade — she'd worked hard for that — but about whether anyone would notice.

Wail Alselwi noticed.

He looked at her score. Smiled. Then slid $100 across the counter.

"This is for you," he told her. "You earned it."

That exchange — grades in, reward out — has become a ritual at Wail's deli. Every grading period, kids from the neighborhood file through the door with their report cards in hand instead of a grocery list. Students scoring above 90% walk out with $100, a T-shirt, and their pick of items from the store. Those in the 80–90% range leave with free snacks. And those who simply show improvement — who tried harder this semester than last — they don't leave empty-handed either.

No lecture. No conditions. Just a man behind a counter who believes that a good grade deserves the same celebration as a touchdown.

"I just want them to know someone sees what they're doing," Wail said. "School is hard. Life is hard. They deserve to feel that."
Word spread the way only real things do — not through ads or press releases, but through kids telling other kids, and parents showing up with tears in their eyes just to shake his hand. Online donations poured in. Strangers who had never set foot in Staten Island sent money to keep the program alive. To date, over $54,000 has been raised.

Every single dollar goes back to the kids.

Wail isn't trying to be famous. He's not running a charity campaign or building a brand. He runs a deli. He just decided, one day, that a report card was worth more than a transaction.

In a world full of noise, a quiet man in Staten Island is changing one grade at a time — and reminding us that sometimes, the most extraordinary people are the ones standing right behind the counter. 💚

[Matt Schick @ESPN_Schick]

Pitcher Delainey Everett gets her first start in the circle of the season.

She delivers a complete game shutout and helps Mississippi State to its first WCWS.

Everett’s father died at the beginning of last season.

Today is her parents’ wedding anniversary.

Amazing. 🥎

[Matt Wyatt @RadioWyatt]

Hail State

[ESPN @espn]

"Today is my mom and dad's anniversary ... this is for them." ❤️

Delainey Everett dedicated her scoreless outing vs. OU to her late father after she lifted Mississippi State to its first-ever trip to the WCWS.

[Robbie Faulk @robbiefaulk1878]

Add another legendary moment in women's sports for Mississippi State.

-Bulldog basketball ends UConn's 111-game winning streak
- Bulldog softball ends nine-straight College World Series appearances for Oklahoma

Don't tell them the odds.

[ASTHO @ASTHO]

On PHRME: ASTHO President-Elect and State Health Officer of @msdh @danedneymd shares insights on Mississippi’s rising infant mortality rate and how the state is coordinating efforts to improve maternal and infant health outcomes.

🎧: https://t.co/yxLvyHOsA8.

[Mississippi State Baseball @HailStateBB]

HOW BOUT THEM DAWGS

[SEC Network @SECNetwork]

JACOB PARKER GRAND SLAM TO TIE IT 🔥

THE DUDE IS ROCKIN' 📈 @HailStateBB

[Sam Purcell @SamPurcellMSU]

Bulldog Family,

Please help me spread the word for Coach Howard’s mom!

#🙏🏻

[The Ohioan Hawaiian Bulldog 𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓵 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮. @SlanginPhotons]

Every State fan should know that the mission manager for Artemis is a Mississippi State Aerospace Engineer graduate.

[The Figen @TheFigen_]

We have much to learn from children.

Two victories: she won the match and she won when she transformed her opponent's sadness into a smile.

[Tami Brooks @TBrooks67]

@elonmuskTehh7 HOPE

[Crazy Vibes @CrazyVibes_1]

Roald Dahl on Measles: Olivia, my eldest daughter, caught measles when she was seven years old. As the illness took its usual course I can remember reading to her often in bed and not feeling particularly alarmed about it. Then one morning, when she was well on the road to recovery, I was sitting on her bed showing her how to fashion little animals out of coloured pipe-cleaners, and when it came to her turn to make one herself, I noticed that her fingers and her mind were not working together and she couldn’t do anything.

'Are you feeling all right?' I asked her.

'I feel all sleepy,' she said.

In an hour, she was unconscious. In twelve hours she was dead.

The measles had turned into a terrible thing called measles encephalitis and there was nothing the doctors could do to save her. That was...in 1962, but even now, if a child with measles happens to develop the same deadly reaction from measles as Olivia did, there would still be nothing the doctors could do to help her. On the other hand, there is today something that parents can do to make sure that this sort of tragedy does not happen to a child of theirs. They can insist that their child is immunised against measles.

...I dedicated two of my books to Olivia, the first was ‘James and the Giant Peach’. That was when she was still alive. The second was ‘The BFG’, dedicated to her memory after she had died from measles. You will see her name at the beginning of each of these books. And I know how happy she would be if only she could know that her death had helped to save a good deal of illness and death among other children.

Roald Dahl, 1986

[Crazy Vibes @CrazyVibes_1]

I went to my son’s 5th grade graduation yesterday. I was sitting behind a boy named Leo. I know Leo; he’s a quiet kid, always wears the same hoodie. When the other kids' names were called, families screamed, blew air horns, and held up signs. When "Leo Miller" was called, the room went quiet. He walked across the stage, took his diploma, and looked at the audience. He was looking for someone. Anyone. Nobody waved. He looked down at his feet, his little shoulders slumping. My heart broke. I looked at my husband, and he knew exactly what I was thinking. We both jumped up. "YEAH LEO! WAY TO GO!" my husband bellowed. I started clapping and whistling like a maniac. "THAT’S RIGHT! YOU DID IT!" A few parents around us looked confused, then they saw Leo’s face. He looked up, shocked, and then broke into the biggest, goofiest grin I’ve ever seen. The applause caught on. By the time he left the stage, half the gym was cheering for the boy with no family in the stands. After the ceremony, he came up to us timidly. "Are you friends with my dad?" he asked. "He couldn't get off work." My husband got down on one knee. "We're just fans of good work, Leo. And you did good work." We took him for ice cream with our son. Show up for people. Even the ones who aren't yours. Especially the ones who aren't yours.

Anonymous

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

"Nobody understood why Dad kept the storage unit.

Cost him $89 a month. We told him to cancel it, sell the stuff, save the money. He's 68, retired on a fixed income. Can barely afford his medication. But every month, without fail, $89 to Store-All on Industrial Drive.
"What's even in there?" I asked last Christmas.
"Things people need," he said. Wouldn't explain further.

I followed him there in March. Couldn't help myself. Worried he was hoarding, losing his mind, wasting money we didn't have.
Watched him unlock unit 247. It was full. Furniture. Appliances. Clothes on racks. Kitchen supplies. Bedding. Toys. All organized, labeled, clean.

A woman with three kids met him there. He walked her through like a store. "Take whatever you need. No rush. No charge."
She left with a microwave, dishes, winter coats for the kids, blankets. Crying. Thanking him over and over.
"Dad, what is this?"

He sighed. "When your mom and I divorced in '92, I moved into an empty apartment. Slept on the floor for three months. Ate off paper plates. It broke something in me, that emptiness. Made a promise then. If I ever could, I'd help people starting over."
"But $89 a month"
"I don't need much. But they need everything. People leaving abuse. People getting out of shelters. Refugees. Anyone starting from zero."

He'd been doing it for eleven years. Filled that unit with donated furniture, thrift store finds, things neighbors gave him. Gave it all away to people rebuilding their lives. Over 200 families.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because you'd try to stop me. Say I can't afford it. But I can't afford not to. You don't forget what empty feels like."

I posted about it on Facebook. Just a photo of Dad in his storage unit, brief explanation. Asked if anyone had furniture to donate.

It exploded. 4,000 shares in two days. Donations poured in. Furniture stores contributed. People rented additional units. Five units now. Volunteers helping.

"Dad's Second Start" it's called. Sixteen storage facilities across the state doing the same thing. Furnishing empty apartments for people escaping, recovering, beginning again.

Dad still pays for his original unit though. Won't let anyone else cover it.
"It's my promise," he says. "Some things you pay for yourself."

Last week, a woman showed up with her daughter. "Your dad furnished my apartment in 2015 when I left my abusive husband. I'm a social worker now. I send people to him. Brought dishes to donate."

Dad cried. Doesn't cry often.
Because he remembers sleeping on an empty floor. And he made sure hundreds of others never had to."
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Let this story reach more hearts....
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Ai image is for demonstration purpose only.
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By Mary Nelson