Midwesterner, Dean, coffee addict, baseball mom (x2), dog mom, neat freak.
Joined October 2010
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10 months ago? That’s rich. These creeps are still talking about 2020.
JD Vance: "I see what Abdul El-Sayed says about the war in Iran. I see him criticizing decisions the president has made, the military has made. But fundamentally we are where we are. In my view, I'd like to know what's Abdul El-Sayed's solution for the problem we have right now? It's easy to criticize something that happened 7 months ago."
Just watching the game and I was like, “Did they just sing, ‘Chase DeLauter, hit a home run?!’” Yep. They did. Awesome.
So proud of this kid. And hey, you can support his foundation by having a burrito at @Yo_Muchacho. 🏈🌯❤️
When Malachi Coleman was five years old, his mother left him and his two year old sister at a stranger's house.
She said she would be back.
He plays wide receiver for Wisconsin now, and he has never seen her again.
His father had already died. So at five, Malachi became the person responsible for keeping his sister Nevaeh alive.
They went into foster care in Nebraska. They lived in three different homes. He was abused in the system.
Then a couple named Craig and Miranda Coleman heard something at church and decided to become foster parents. They planned to take one child at a time.
At the end of their licensing class, the agency asked whether they would consider two siblings who were about to be separated from each other.
They thought about it for a couple of weeks and said yes.
The kids started coming on weekends in October 2014. They moved in that January. On November 20, 2015, Craig and Miranda adopted both of them.
Here is what Craig said about the boy who showed up.
"He was a broken kid."
Miranda said he lived for today and only today. Malachi says he was mean and selfish and would not do one kind thing for anybody.
So one day Miranda argued with him about it for an hour.
And at the end of it she did not ask him to become a good person. She asked him to hold a door open for one person. One door. One stranger. That was all.
He has not stopped since. He holds doors for everybody now, and he will tell you that kindness is the thing he cares about most.
When Nebraska started letting high school athletes earn money off their names, Malachi Coleman put his into a burrito at a local restaurant and sent a cut of it to the foster care system. He runs a foundation now that works to get kids out of foster care and into permanent homes.
The football is almost the small part.
He was a top 60 recruit out of Lincoln East and he stayed home and signed with the Nebraska Cornhuskers. It did not work. Eight catches as a freshman, then shoulder surgery, then nothing. He transferred to Minnesota and barely played there either.
Three seasons. Thirteen catches.
This year Wisconsin took him, because a coach who had him at Minnesota vouched for him. In his first game he caught four passes for 76 yards and a touchdown against Notre Dame, which was more than he gained in all of last season. Last weekend he caught a 46 yard touchdown against Michigan State.
He says he faked his confidence until it became real.
He got that line from his mother.
A woman once sat and argued with a furious, broken kid for an hour, and then asked him to hold one door open for one stranger.
Here is what he says now.
"I see myself as wanted."
🤔 #GBR
The Top Selling Athletes in the NIL Store Last Week!
1. Jadan Baugh (Florida)
2. Trinidad Chambliss (Ole Miss)
3. Andi Jackson (Nebraska)
4. Rocky Beers (Oklahoma)
5. Harper Murray (Nebraska)
6. KaMario Taylor (Mississippi State)
7. Sam Leavitt (LSU)
8. Bergen Reilly (Nebraska)
9. Lincoln Kienholz (Louisville)
10. Charlie Becker (Indiana)
Renae Reis retweeted
This guy , Craig Campanella, walks around NYC looking for basketball hoops with missing or damaged nets and replaces them out of his own pocket.
Renae Reis retweeted
Forty-eight Nebraska judges face an up-or-down vote this November on whether they can stay in office through 2032. Use new tools in today's breakdown to see which judges are up for retention and more background information on all 48 judges. nebraskaexaminer.com/2026/09…
My pal, @GregHobza, you’re a legend.
Renae Reis retweeted
Hi. 😊 Swedish dude here.
When our children get sick, we have 60 paid days per year to stay home with them.
Per parent.
They're separate from my 25 paid vacation days.
Meaning I don't have to use my own paid sick leave.
If I'm a single parent: 120 days.
If my child has a chronic illness: 120 days
If my child is hospitalized: unlimited days.
These days reset every January.
By law. every year until child is 18.
Follow for more glimpses into life in a social democracy, where dignity is not a privilege.
Peace ✌🏼
Renae Reis retweeted
Dandelions are one of the last flowers standing in the fall. Spray one with roundup and you're spraying every bumblebee queen that visits, just as she's preparing to hibernate.
The flower doesn't die on contact. It takes days, and it keeps getting visited the entire time. Bumblebee queens are feeding hard right now, building the fat reserves that have to carry them through months underground with no colony and no food. Every queen that doesn't fatten up is a colony that doesn't start next spring.
Research from Finland found glyphosate-exposed bumblebees lost the ability to tell flowers apart by color, and lost their sensitivity to the ultraviolet patterns bees use to find nectar.
Late solitary bees, hoverflies, and butterflies are working the same flowers too.
If the dandelions genuinely bother you, dig them out. A weeding fork gets the taproot.
Or leave them. The first hard frost takes care of it.
Renae Reis retweeted
This is Marta Kostyuk from Kyiv telling you how her family survives the war.
The official US Open channel avoided posting this. Please share this video so a Ukrainian voice can be heard. 🇺🇦🙏
Renae Reis retweeted
In Nebraska I was told a number. I did not believe it. I have since checked it, and I still do not believe it.
The football stadium in Lincoln has sold every seat, for every home game, since November 3, 1962.
Every game. Not the good years. Every game. Through seasons the state would rather not discuss. Through blizzards. Through years when leaving early would have been reasonable, and nobody left.
I asked a man named Gary how two million people keep a promise for that long.
He said, "You buy the ticket."
I asked what if the team is bad.
"You buy the ticket."
I asked what if it is snowing.
He looked at me with real patience. "You buy the ticket."
Here is the part that undid me. The first game of the streak, in 1962, they lost. Thirty-six thousand people came out the week after the Cuban Missile Crisis ended, watched their team lose to Missouri, and came back for the next one anyway. And the next. It has not stopped.
The streak began with a loss. Nobody in Nebraska finds this ironic. They find it obvious.
This summer there was worry. Ticket sales were slow. People wrote articles asking whether it would finally end. I read them in a diner over a slice of pie I did not finish, and I confess I was afraid for a state I do not live in.
Then this week they announced the opener is sold out. Four hundred and eleven in a row.
In my land, a lord who kept his word for sixty years was written into the temple records.
Nebraska has kept its word since the Cuban Missile Crisis. There is no temple. There are eighty-five thousand people who bought the ticket.
Gary is going Saturday. It is not snowing. He would go if it were.
A promise is easy in a winning season.
Nebraska has kept one through every other kind.
My entire social media feed is @DollyParton. After so much work, bootstrap pulling, book providing, and song singing, may she finally rest. Thank you, Dolly. 💗
Renae Reis retweeted
I attended a county fair and watched a child sell a pig.
The pig is worth, I am told, somewhere near four hundred dollars. I looked this up afterward because I did not believe what happened.
The girl is twelve. She walked the animal into a ring wearing a white shirt and a numbered card. She had raised it herself, from a piglet, for nine months, which I confirmed, and she had a binder of records because the program requires one.
The bidding began. Local men. A man from a bank. A man who sells tires. A woman who owns a restaurant I had eaten at the previous evening.
It did not stop at four hundred.
It stopped at three thousand two hundred.
I turned to the man beside me and asked whether the pig was of exceptional quality.
He said, "It's a fine pig."
I asked whether it was worth three thousand two hundred dollars.
He said, "No."
I asked why the price was three thousand two hundred dollars.
He said, "She's a good kid."
I stood up. I could not remain seated. I said, out loud, in a metal building that smelled of animals, that a market which knowingly and deliberately misprices a good in order to put a child through a university, and does so every year, in the open, with an auctioneer and a microphone, is not a market at all but a rite, and that I have never seen a province conduct one so cheerfully.
He said, "You want a lemonade?"
I said that I did.
Here is the part I had entirely misread. The men bidding against each other were not rivals. They were raising it together. The tire man bid, then the bank man bid, and the tire man nodded at him, and they were pushing the number upward on purpose, in public, in front of the girl. She knew. Everyone knew. The auctioneer knew. The rite requires that nobody says it.
Afterward the girl shook every buyer's hand. She writes them letters later. That is also part of it. She writes letters.
I asked the restaurant owner why she bids every year.
She said, "Somebody bought mine."
She is fifty-eight.
