A New Neil Armstrong Film is Sharing a Giant Leap for Kindness

Anisha Abraham's family had a serendipitous encounter with Neil Armstrong's family in 1969, shortly after his historic moon landing. They visited Wapakoneta, Armstrong's hometown, and were graciously received by his parents. The heartwarming moment, captured in a photograph, has now been turned into a short film called "One Small Visit." The film, based on this act of kindness among strangers, has been warmly received at film festivals and NASA headquarters. It highlights the positive impact it had on people around the world.

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This 90-Year-Old Volunteer Just Won an Award, and Got a Bus Named After Her

After 19 years spent guiding countless patients and visitors through the halls of Nottingham’s City Hospital, Margaret Wildgust has earned more than a few smiles — and now, a major honour too. The 90-year-old, who celebrated her milestone birthday this summer with what she jokingly called a “living wake,” has just been named the hospital trust’s Volunteer of the Year. And in a fitting tribute to her years of dedication, one of Nottingham’s number 17 buses — her favourite route — will soon bear her name. “I’ve got to 90 and I can still do something,” she said. “People say I don’t look 90, but I do feel it sometimes.” Twice a week, Margaret shows up to the hospital for her volunteer shifts, where she serves as a meet-and-greet guide for patients and visitors who need help finding their way. “It makes me feel wonderful,” she said. “It’s a lovely feeling. I feel as if I’ve done a bit of good.” Her path to the role began nearly two decades ago when the supermarket she worked at was taken over. After seeing volunteers during her own hospital visits, she decided to give it a try. “I said to my daughter, ‘I’m going to do that,’” she recalled. Since then, she’s become a fixture at City Hospital — one who, in her own words, knows “every nook and cranny.” She’s known for her warm humour, helpful directions, and festive spirit — especially at the hospital’s annual mince pie party, where her flashing Christmas jumper is a regular hit. “People ask me about the flashing jumper,” she said, laughing. “They say, ‘Margaret, are you going to flash for us this year?’” But above all, it’s the human connection that keeps her coming back. “It’s a people thing. I do like people,” she said. “I have a bit of fun with them when they come in. If they have a long way to go I’ll just say something like, ‘If you follow the yellow brick road…’ and that will make them smile — and that’s what it’s all about.” Despite now getting a lift into work, she still insists on taking the bus home — a small ritual she’s held onto for years. Soon, one of those buses will bear her name. And while most people her age are long into retirement, Margaret has no plans to stop. “I love every minute of it,” she said. “When I come here, I come alive. I’ll keep coming as long as I’m able.”

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Baltimore Cyclist Turns Lost Hubcaps Into Unique Art

When Barnaby Wickham hops on his bike in Baltimore, he’s not just out for exercise. He’s on the hunt for hubcaps. What started nearly two years ago with one lost hubcap has grown into a collection of more than 700, most of them gathered during his regular cycling routes around the city. But for Wickham, 54, it’s not just about collecting trash. It’s about turning roadside litter into large-scale public art. “I love to cycle. I love Baltimore,” Wickham said. “There’s just enough hubcaps and other things like car grills to be interesting, but not so many that it’s too easy.” He’s made Christmas wreaths, a giant fish, and even a 16-foot-tall Snoopy head using the discarded pieces of plastic and metal. All of it is assembled in his front yard and stored in his garage. His method is simple: expanded metal for structure, zip ties to fasten the hubcaps, and a healthy dose of imagination. “It’s all held together with zip ties,” he said. “Hubcaps are filled with slots or holes, and so it’s easy to get a hold of them to hold them in place.” Each find gets logged. Wickham uses Google Maps to pin the exact locations of his discoveries and keeps a running list of “hubcaps in the wild.” When others spot one, they’ll often text him a tip—but he insists on picking it up himself. That’s part of the fun. “I think it’s sort of the excitement of the hunt, for one thing,” he said. Wickham, who works in marketing for a defense technology firm, credits his wife, Kate, with being the support crew. She helps during construction and keeps an eye on safety. “I’m just support team, and occasionally the cautious person who says, you can’t drive on this road, you can’t bike on this road,” she said. “So I’m just more kind of supporting his love of trying new things.” The city itself seems like a natural fit for this kind of project. Baltimore has a long tradition of embracing eccentricity, from cult film director John Waters to the American Visionary Art Museum, known nationally for showcasing self-taught artists. Wickham’s art falls squarely into that tradition. It’s large, bold, and rooted in the city’s streets—literally. The Snoopy piece is about 6.4 meters wide. And while most of his materials come from Baltimore, he’s collected a few on trips to see his son at Kent State in Ohio. He even found one on a business trip in Rome. “I was like, oh, I collect these. I’m just going to take this back with me,” he said, recalling how he had to explain himself to a confused bike tour guide. “And I showed her a photo of the wreath, and she was like: ‘Oh, OK.’ Whenever anyone hears about it and understands it, they’re onboard.” Last year, he donated two of his hubcap wreaths—one to the city, another to a nonprofit. But for all the art, the real joy may be the conversations. Wickham says people often stop him mid-ride to point out hubcaps they’ve seen, just to help. On one occasion, a man flagged him down urgently just to let him know another hubcap was nearby. “It was clear to him that I was collecting these things, and all he wanted to do was help,” Wickham said. “It starts a lot of conversations, and it’s just something that people love to talk about.” What began with a single piece of roadside trash has become a full-fledged community project—one zip tie at a time.

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French Fans Celebrate Jane Austen's 250th Birthday With 'Pride And Prejudice' Fantasy

The music is soft, the posture upright, and the smiles perfectly polite as dozens of people in Regency-era formalwear move in synchrony across a dance floor in the French capital. It could be a scene straight from Pride and Prejudice — but it’s not 1815 in Bath, it’s 2025 in a community centre in Paris. The occasion? A full-costume ball celebrating the 250th birthday of Jane Austen, the iconic English novelist born on December 16, 1775. Organized by historical dance teacher Cécile Laye and her company Chestnut, the event drew about 50 attendees, mostly women, eager to waltz, curtsy, and connect with Austen’s world — one square dance at a time. “I have been dancing for five years now, performing various historical dance styles. What I enjoy about Regency-era dances is that I feel as though I am reliving a scene from one of Jane Austen’s novels,” said 47-year-old Virginie Ussi, who wore a hand-sewn purple Empire-style dress based on a historical pattern. Austen’s popularity needs little explanation in the English-speaking world, where “Janeites” have long celebrated her works with fan festivals, walking tours, and costume balls. But this year, Austenmania is making noticeable inroads in France, where such events are becoming more common — and more crowded. In Ligueil, a small town of just over 2,000 residents in central France, the public library expected 30 people to show up to its first Jane Austen weekend. They got 120. "We didn't think the event would be this popular," said local volunteer and dancer Fred Delrieux. The library is now planning a sequel for 2026. Back in Paris, the Chestnut ball offered participants a chance to not just read Austen, but live in her world for an evening. Dancers bowed, changed partners, and smiled graciously as they followed Regency choreography, a ritual that once signaled social status, propriety, and — sometimes — the beginnings of courtship. “Jane Austen loved to dance,” said Laye. “She loved dancing so much that all of her novels include very long dance sequences, with dialogue that really moves the plot forward.” That’s not just a literary detail. In Regency England, dancing more than twice with the same partner at a ball was a clear signal of romantic interest — a coded tradition that Austen wove into every one of her books. Today, Austen’s appeal spans mediums and generations. Some fans come through the novels, others through cinema. For many, it was the 1995 BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice — yes, the one with Colin Firth’s famous pond scene — that kicked off a new wave of fandom. The series drew more than 11 million viewers and inspired dozens of dance groups in its wake. “People really love that feeling of connecting to what they’ve seen in the films,” said Charlotte Cumper of the Jane Austen Dancers of Bath. “They watch the adaptations and think ‘I want to dance like that.’” Others come through costuming. “Wearing a costume makes you feel even more like you're travelling back in time for the duration of a weekend,” said Ussi. Her fellow dancer Vanessa Bertho agreed: “Dancing in costume really allows you to perform the movements as if you were a woman of the Regency era, with all its restrictions and advantages.” Bertho, a primary school teacher and devoted Sense and Sensibility fan, wore a long blue dress she bought at the Jane Austen Festival in Bath. But not everyone at these balls is a bookworm. “We’ve got some members who probably haven’t even read one of her books,” said Cumper. “Some come through the historical dance route. Some just want to find a hobby. And this looked like fun.” The French, it turns out, are relative newcomers to Austen’s world. According to classics professor Marie-Alix Hediard, early translations in France skewed her work toward romance and watered down her sharp social commentary. That limited her literary reputation on this side of the Channel. But that’s changing. In April, a group of fans launched the Jane Austen Society of France, aiming to build a proper community of French Janeites. Even outside formal societies, Austen’s influence is everywhere — from Clueless and Bridget Jones to Netflix’s Bridgerton. On TikTok, the hashtag #JaneAusten has hundreds of millions of views, filled with memes, fan edits, and reviews. “You don’t have to get into Jane Austen through academia,” said Jane Austen: Visual Encyclopedia co-author Claire Saim. “You can enter her world through Bridgerton.” For Schorn, the Paris barista and longtime Austen fan who danced at the Chestnut ball, the appeal is timeless. “I think that as the state of the world, as the plight becomes heavier, as pockets thin, people are actually seeking comfort and are more likely to come here.” And comfort, it turns out, can look a lot like stepping into a tailcoat or empire gown and dancing to the rhythm of a pianoforte. As Austen herself once wrote, “To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.” Two and a half centuries later, plenty still are — with the dancing, with the novels, and with the world Jane Austen built.

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Chicago Tenor Rodell Rosel Connects People Through Opera's Music And Emotion

Rodell Rosel has spent more than 20 years on stages across the U.S., sharing his voice with opera lovers in Chicago and beyond. But for him, the journey has never been about perfection — it’s about growth, honesty, and staying connected to who you are. “We always say opera is the Olympics of singing,” Rosel told CBS News Chicago. “Our instruments are inside our bodies.” Rosel is a seasoned tenor, known for his expressive performances and warm presence, on and off the stage. He’s performed with major opera companies and remains a fixture in Chicago’s music scene. But ask him how long he’s been at it, and he’s quick with a joke: “I’ve been singing professionally for 20 years. I’m 21.” His love for the art form runs deep — and he insists it’s for everyone, regardless of whether they understand the language. “Even though you don’t understand the words, the music envelops it. It’s up to the artist to interpret,” he explained. “When someone is saying, ‘My heart is broken,’ it will sound like this. It stretches it so it doesn’t leave you quickly. It stays with you enough to feel the drama.” That idea of making emotion linger — of using music to reach people — has guided Rosel throughout his career. But he also credits much of his success to embracing every part of himself. “I want to be a full, rounded person,” he said. “To be able to be full, rounded, you have to be able to embrace everything about you, both masculine and feminine.” Rosel is openly gay and has been married to Steven Hunter for 11 years. For him, being visible and open is simply about living truthfully. “I will talk about it as normal and as regular as everyone else,” he said. “If I’m talking to someone, ‘Oh great, my husband and I are talking about going on that trip,’ instead of saying, ‘Oh, just want to let you know, I have a husband.’” Rosel is also active in the LGBTQ+ Asian community in Chicago, where he’s found friendship and solidarity through the group Asians and Friends. Founded in 1984, the group was created to provide a safe and welcoming space for LGBTQ+ Asians and their allies. “In recent years we’re trying to get more active in the community as well,” said president John McInteer. Rosel met McInteer through the group’s social events, which include fundraisers, pride parades, and dim sum brunches. “It’s about our common interest and being able to open up and compare how we experience our lives in Chicago,” Rosel said. And while he’s accomplished a lot in two decades of singing, he still sees opera as an ongoing education. “I would consider it continuous learning,” he said. “Just like law or medicine, we have to keep working on our voice. We have to keep working on our artistry.” For Rosel, life is full — of music, of meaning, and of a community that helps him stay grounded while reaching for ever-higher notes.

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Bondi Beach Hero Al-Ahmed Tackles Shooter, Raises $2.2M In Donations

A father of two is being hailed as a national hero in Australia after disarming a gunman during a mass shooting at Sydney’s Bondi Beach on Sunday. Ahmed al-Ahmed, a 43-year-old fruit seller originally from Syria, acted in a split second that may have saved dozens of lives. Footage from the scene shows him sneaking up behind the attacker, wrestling the gun from his hands, and pointing it back at him before placing it on the ground and raising his arms to signal he was not a threat. Al-Ahmed’s intervention ended one part of the attack and has since triggered an outpouring of support across the country. GoFundMe confirmed that a campaign launched in al-Ahmed’s name has raised more than $2.2 million so far. “We’re seeing an outpouring of love for Ahmed al-Ahmed following his heroic actions at Bondi Beach,” the platform said on X. “We’re working directly with organisers to ensure funds safely reach Ahmed and his family.” Outside the Saint George Hospital, where al-Ahmed is being treated for gunshot wounds, strangers have left flowers and notes of gratitude. Others placed tributes at his closed fruit shop, according to local media. Al-Ahmed’s father, Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed, told ABC News that his son had been having coffee with a friend when he heard gunshots and decided to step in. “My son is a hero. He served in the police, he has the passion to defend people,” he said. It’s not yet clear which police force al-Ahmed previously served in. His mother, Malakeh Hasan al-Ahmed, said she collapsed in tears after receiving the call that her son had been shot. “I kept beating myself up and crying,” she told reporters. Ahmed al-Ahmed moved to Sydney in 2006 after fleeing war in Syria. Friends and relatives have described him as humble, generous, and deeply committed to his community. His actions have drawn praise from across the political spectrum. On Monday, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese visited the Bondi Pavilion, laying flowers at a memorial site and offering condolences to the victims’ families. “He didn’t just save lives, he showed us what courage looks like,” one supporter wrote online. “He ran toward danger, when everyone else was running away.” The full picture of the attack, including the identities and motivations of the two suspects, is still unfolding. One suspect was killed at the scene, and the other remains in critical condition. Police have classified the shooting as a terrorist attack. But amid the horror, al-Ahmed’s actions have given Australians something else to focus on: bravery, selflessness, and the simple power of one person choosing to help others. “He didn’t do it for recognition,” a neighbour told reporters. “He did it because he knew it was the right thing to do.”

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How A Simple Ride to Work Sparked an Unexpected Friendship in Georgia

For a long time, Keith Tidwell and Debbie Rhoden passed each other without speaking. Tidwell worked nights in the produce section at the Kroger on Gray Highway. Rhoden shopped there often. They didn’t know each other’s names. That changed about 18 months ago when Rhoden spotted Tidwell walking along the roadside on her drive home. She recognized him from the store and realized he was making his long commute — nearly five miles each way — on foot. It was late. The road was dark. Rhoden turned her car around and offered him a ride. Tidwell, who usually walks or bikes to work, decided to accept. That ride didn’t just make his commute easier — it changed both their lives. Rhoden had lost her son, Carlos Hill, just months earlier. “I think he would have wanted me to pick him up and take him to work, especially when he knew how far he has to walk at night,” she said. What began as a one-time gesture has since become routine. Rhoden now gives Tidwell regular rides to work several times a week. The two, once strangers, have formed a close friendship. “She never made me feel like I was a burden,” Tidwell said. The rides have made his commute safer and far less stressful. Rhoden said she never hesitated. “I just knew it was the right thing to do,” she said. Tidwell is currently working toward earning his driver’s license. But no matter who’s driving in the future, both say their bond isn’t going anywhere.

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This NFL Player is Wowing Teammates with His R&B Pipes — and a Staggering 12 Instruments

During a regular New York Jets special teams meeting earlier this season, defensive tackle Jowon Briggs was put on the spot. “I didn't know you could sing,” special teams coordinator Chris Banjo said, nudging Briggs. “Man, go ahead and sing something.” So the 6-foot-1, 313-pound lineman stayed in his seat and started singing Tevin Campbell’s R&B classic “Can We Talk.” The room went quiet — and then erupted. “He has a beautiful voice,” said teammate Harrison Phillips. “It was crazy, actually,” added safety Isaiah Oliver. “I didn’t know that about him... but it was really good.” Briggs got a standing ovation. Turns out, singing is just the beginning. The 24-year-old not only has a strong voice — he also plays at least 12 instruments to varying degrees. Piano, violin, cello, acoustic and electric guitar, saxophone, flute, harmonica — the list goes on. He started with the recorder in kindergarten. Then came strings, acting, choirs, even a cappella tours overseas. “I always say, everybody’s got something,” Briggs said. “I just happen to be a musical guy.” Jets defensive tackle Jay Tufele called it what it is: “He’s a beast on the field and off.” Briggs has been a bright spot for the Jets in an otherwise rocky season. After being picked up just before the regular season began — a seventh-rounder from Cleveland, via the University of Cincinnati — he quickly earned a starting role. With Quinnen Williams traded to Dallas, Briggs stepped in and has put up 28 tackles, six for a loss, three sacks, a forced fumble, and nine QB hits. “He’s a big man, he’s strong,” said coach Aaron Glenn. “What’s been surprising — and I wouldn’t say surprising — but what he’s had the tick up in is his ability to rush the passer.” Growing up in Cincinnati, Briggs was surrounded by music and competition. Four older sisters and a younger brother filled the house with songs, instruments, and constant energy. “It was kind of like Battle of the Bands,” Briggs said. “My sisters all sing better than I can... but if you grow up in that kind of competitive household, you find out if you can sing or not fairly quickly.” He started singing and acting at a performing arts school and kept going through high school, landing the lead in Ragtime as Coalhouse Walker Jr. Along the way, he picked up instrument after instrument, with a special love for the bass guitar. “It’s my favorite all the way,” he said. “And I just picked up a new one.” By the time he got to college — first at the University of Virginia as a physics and music double major, then transferring to Cincinnati — he was singing the national anthem before basketball games, joining chamber choirs, and touring London with the Hullabahoos, an all-male a cappella group. Music was his way of finding balance. “Compared to singing a solo on stage,” Briggs said, “being on a football field might as well be like a walk in a loud park.” Now a married father of four, Briggs still makes time for music. “I probably got a couple albums worth,” he said. “It’s just a matter of when I feel like releasing them.” His playlist is all over the map: jazz legends like John Coltrane, grunge bands like Alice In Chains, classics like Sarah Vaughan and Prince. He even raps, according to teammates. “His singing voice and his rapping voice are two different buckets,” said Phillips. “I’m not artistic in any way, so major props to him on that.” These days, Briggs decompresses by quietly playing bass with headphones after the kids go to bed. Sometimes he records tracks with computer programs. Occasionally, a teammate will spot the amp in the back of his car. “Then we go down the rabbit hole,” Briggs said, laughing. “But I don’t think a lot of guys even know. And they might not ever know. I mean, until they see me put out a record 30 years from now.” He’s not ruling out the stage either. “Even if it’s not off-Broadway or even off-off-Broadway,” he joked. Football is still the focus. But long after the last down, his voice — and maybe that five-string bass — will still be playing.

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Endangered Sea Turtles Recover In Florida After Rescue Off Cape Cod

Two dozen endangered Kemp’s ridley sea turtles are slowly recovering in Florida after being pulled from the icy waters off Cape Cod, where they were left hypothermic and near death. The turtles were rescued and flown down to the Loggerhead Marinelife Center in Juno Beach on Dec. 9, with help from the nonprofit LightHawk, which specializes in flying wildlife to safety. Many of the turtles were found suffering from frostbite, pneumonia, abrasions and a condition called cold-stunning, a life-threatening reaction to sudden exposure to frigid temperatures. “These guys are very critically ill when they get here, and they are undergoing extensive treatment,” said Heather Barron, chief science officer and veterinarian at Loggerhead. “They’re getting nebulized where they actually breathe in medicine. That helps their lungs do their job better.” Cold-stunning is a physiological shock response that affects cold-blooded animals when temperatures plummet. In sea turtles, it causes sluggishness, loss of mobility, and in many cases, organ failure if not treated quickly. Kemp’s ridley, loggerhead and green sea turtles are especially vulnerable. Once stunned, they often float helplessly and are eventually washed ashore—if they survive that long. This year’s cold-stunning season hit hard. The New England Aquarium in Boston, which typically serves as a triage hub for stranded turtles, has already treated 472 hypothermic sea turtles since Nov. 7. The influx prompted officials to transfer some turtles south to relieve overcrowding. “A number of turtles were sent to Florida to relieve overcrowding at the New England Aquarium,” said Pam Bechtold Snyder, director of marketing and communications for the aquarium. “Most of those turtles were stranded during a strong westerly wind event on Nov. 28 and went through the triage process at the Boston facility.” From there, turtles were transported to sea turtle hospitals across the U.S. in coordination with NOAA’s Fisheries Service. Loggerhead was one of the facilities tapped for help. This isn’t the first time the Florida-based rescue center has stepped in. Last year, the team rehabilitated another group of cold-stunned turtles, all of whom were successfully released into the Atlantic months later. Barring complications, the current group is expected to stay at the facility through spring, when they’ll be released into warm waters to continue their migration north. “They’ll be released into the Atlantic Ocean to make their way back to New England,” Barron said. In keeping with a long-running tradition at Loggerhead, the turtles have been given names—this time with a theme inspired by Greek mythology. “We have Pandora and Gaia and Persephone and Helios and all those guys,” Barron said. Each patient is undergoing a regimen of antibiotics, fluids, and respiratory therapy. Staff and volunteers are closely monitoring their progress in the sea turtle hospital, a facility designed to simulate a natural marine environment while providing intensive care. Kemp’s ridley turtles, one of the world’s most endangered sea turtle species, are typically found in the Gulf of Mexico and along the Atlantic coast. Their population has been decimated by habitat loss, fishing bycatch, and climate-related disruptions to their migratory patterns. Cape Cod has become a hotspot for cold-stunning, largely because of its geography. Sea turtles migrating south in autumn can get trapped by the hook-shaped peninsula. As ocean temperatures drop, many are unable to escape, caught between the shoreline and their own declining mobility. Volunteers regularly patrol beaches to search for stranded turtles, which are then sent to Boston for emergency care. This system has saved thousands over the years, but requires coordination among aquariums, government agencies, and now, increasingly, out-of-state facilities. While this year’s total hasn’t yet broken records, the season isn’t over. More turtles are likely to be stranded as winter intensifies. But thanks to efforts from organizations like LightHawk, NOAA, and sea turtle hospitals around the country, many of these endangered animals have a fighting chance. And with a little help from science—and mythology—Pandora, Helios, and the rest may soon find their way back home.

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Colorful Road Art Initiative Transforms Athens Intersection, Enhancing Safety and Community Spirit

In the heart of Athens, a once-dangerous intersection near a school and retirement home has been transformed—not with new traffic lights or major construction, but with paint, creativity, and a little help from schoolchildren. At the busy crossroads of Ethnikis Antistaseos and Filadelfias in the Kaisariani district, near-constant car crashes were a fact of life. The area sits between a nursery, a primary school, and a senior citizens’ center—yet lacked the visual cues that make drivers slow down and watch for pedestrians. Now, thanks to the Asphalt Art Initiative, it looks very different. Funded by Bloomberg Philanthropies, the Asphalt Art program brings together artists, designers, and urban planners to rethink dangerous city spaces. Since launching in 2020, the initiative has completed over 90 projects across 20 countries, turning drab intersections into bright, engaging community landmarks that also make streets safer. Janette Sadik-Khan, principal for transportation at Bloomberg Associates, described it as “a life-saving movement.” In a statement, she said, “The Asphalt Art Initiative shows how much progress you can make with a fresh coat of paint and fresh thinking about how to design streets that are safer for everyone.” In Kaisariani, that meant partnering with local schoolchildren to redesign the intersection with safety and imagination in mind. Alongside urban planners and artists, the kids helped select colors, sketch ideas, and ultimately turn the street into a living canvas. The result: bold orange, yellow, and blue stars, robots, and sunbeams now cover the pavement, surrounded by widened pedestrian zones and new traffic barriers to slow down vehicles. The colors were chosen to be bright enough to catch a driver’s attention, but not so chaotic as to confuse. “We tried to use colors which are bright but not disorienting, because the idea was to bring out the kids’ drawings,” said designer Antonia Michalakakou. Teacher Stella Moisi joined her students in rolling on paint, watching their designs come to life in real time. “It’s a street that students cross often,” she said. “Which is why we are delighted to decorate it.” And while it’s hard to measure joy in hard numbers, the safety improvements are real. Research backs up what the community saw immediately: when streets are made more vibrant and pedestrian-friendly, drivers tend to slow down. Visibility improves. Accidents decrease. That runs counter to claims made elsewhere—like in Florida, where officials recently ordered the removal of pavement art, including a rainbow-painted sidewalk honoring victims of the 2016 Pulse nightclub shooting. State officials said it was for “safety” reasons, despite studies showing such markings actually help draw attention to crosswalks. In Kaisariani, the art hasn’t just brightened the street. It’s built community, empowered kids, and made the area safer for everyone—from toddlers to pensioners. And it didn’t require tearing up sidewalks or laying down asphalt. Just some paint, a few brushes, and the belief that cities can be safer—and more beautiful—when communities take part in shaping them.

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Meet the Students Who Might’ve Just Cracked a Key Part of Aging—and It Started with a Hallway Chat

A new discovery from Mayo Clinic researchers could open the door to more effective treatments for age-related diseases—and it started with two students chatting at a scientific mixer. The research, published in the journal Aging Cell, introduces a novel way to identify and label senescent cells, often called “zombie cells.” These are cells that have stopped dividing but don’t die off as they should, and instead linger in the body, contributing to conditions like cancer, Alzheimer’s disease, and the aging process itself. Targeting these cells could be a powerful strategy for treating a wide range of diseases, but until now, one of the biggest hurdles has been detecting them accurately in living tissue without harming nearby healthy cells. That’s where a pair of graduate students, Keenan Pearson and Sarah Jachim, stepped in—with an idea that even their professors initially called “crazy.” Pearson had been working in a lab studying synthetic DNA structures called aptamers—tiny strands of DNA that can fold into shapes and attach to proteins on a cell’s surface. He was focused on brain cancer and neurodegenerative disease. Jachim, a few floors up, was studying aging and senescent cells. The two crossed paths at a Mayo Clinic scientific event and started swapping ideas about their thesis work. Pearson wondered: Could aptamers be used to detect senescent cells? “I thought the idea was a good one,” Pearson said, “but I didn’t know about the process of preparing senescent cells to test them, and that was Sarah’s expertise.” The two brought their idea to their faculty mentors, including biochemist and molecular biologist Jim Maher, Ph.D., and Darren Baker, Ph.D., an expert on therapies for senescent cells. Instead of shutting it down, the researchers gave the students the green light. “We frankly loved that it was the students’ idea and a real synergy of two research areas,” said Dr. Maher. They got to work, using a pool of over 100 trillion random DNA sequences to search for rare aptamers that could detect surface proteins specific to senescent cells. In tests with mouse cells, they found a handful that could do just that—mark senescent cells by binding to them, without tagging healthy ones. “This approach established the principle that aptamers are a technology that can be used to distinguish senescent cells from healthy ones,” Dr. Maher said. “Though this study is a first step, the results suggest the approach could eventually apply to human cells.” As the early data came in, the research team grew. More students from both labs joined the project, including Brandon Wilbanks, Luis Prieto, and Caroline Doherty. They brought in advanced microscopy tools and tested the technique on multiple tissue types. “It became encouraging to expend more effort,” said Jachim. “Because we could tell it was a project that was going to succeed.” Beyond just labeling the cells, the study also offered insight into what makes senescent cells biologically unique. Unlike many research efforts that start with a known target, the aptamer method allowed the molecules themselves to “choose” what to bind to. That led to a surprising discovery: several aptamers latched onto a variant of a protein called fibronectin on the surface of senescent mouse cells. No one’s quite sure yet what this fibronectin variant means for senescence, but it may offer a new way to understand how zombie cells behave—and why they stick around. “This study was set up to be open-ended about the target surface molecules on senescent cells,” said Dr. Maher. “The beauty of this approach is that we let the aptamers choose the molecules to bind to.” If the method can be adapted for use in humans, aptamers could eventually do more than just tag senescent cells—they might be used to deliver treatments directly to them, helping to eliminate them more precisely than existing methods. That’s especially important because aptamers are cheaper and easier to produce than traditional antibodies, which are often used to detect specific cell types. “This project demonstrated a novel concept,” Dr. Maher said. “Future studies may extend the approach to applications related to senescent cells in human disease.” It’s still early days. But the idea—sparked by a chance conversation between two students—is already showing promise as a way to unlock new treatments for aging and degenerative disease. For Pearson, the experience reinforced the power of unexpected collaboration. “I don’t even think we knew what we were getting into at the start,” he said. “But it turns out, sometimes the hallway conversations are the ones that change everything.”

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