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Speed Kills: Meth use rampant: The
first time he snorted methamphetamine, Ryan Forester knew it was
the drug for him. He loved the rush it delivered, and the energy
it gave him to put in longer hours at school or work. What he
didn't know was the toll it would take in return: his friends
and family, his freedom, his health. Forester was a bright kid,
in most respects. But growing up openly gay in the small, eastern
Arizona mining town of Globe meant problems at school and at home.
After years of depression and a couple of faux suicide attempts,
he began dabbling with marijuana, LSD and other drugs. By age
16 he just wanted out, and extra classes before and after school
helped him graduate from high school a year early. Meth, or "speed,"
helped him put in the extra study time.
Students
study mortuary science: The grim-faced pallbearers
struggled as they carried the heavy wooden casket toward the waiting
hearse.They eased their cargo into the back, making sure the wheels
on the casket's bottom fit into grooves on the hearse's floor.They
forgot to secure the wheel stop, and as the hearse drove down
the street, the casket slipped backward, pushed open the door
and fell out onto the pavement.It continued to roll, only stopping
after it made its way through the open door of a nearby pharmacy
and slammed into the front counter. A bewildered pharmacist watched
as the casket lid flew open, the body popped up and asked, "Have
you got anything to stop this coffin?"Dr. Thomas Taggart,
a veteran mortician and the director of Mesa Community College's
mortuary science program, likes to tell jokes in his lectures
and conversations. He teaches his students how to become funeral
directors, from embalming a body to running a funeral. He covers
all the details, and emphasizes that the wheels on a coffin must
be locked in place for the drive to the cemetery.
ASU builds program to prevent sports gambling: Sweat dripped off forward Mike Batiste's forehead and onto the hardwood floor of ASU's Wells Fargo Arena. Basketball practice had ended, and the 6-foot-8 senior was headed to the locker room.The walk from the court to the locker room is a short one, but Batiste savors every step. "It's a privilege out here to play ball, it's not a right," the social work major from California said. "If you have this kind of a privilege, you shouldn't jeopardize it." He knows there's a lot of work ahead of him, on and off the court. Unlike some of those who played before him, Batiste doesn't want to do anything to hurt his teammates' chances at qualifying for either the NCAA Tournament or the NIT this season. He doesn't want to do anything that would jeopardize his privilege to play basketball at ASU -- such as becoming involved with campus bookies or gambling schemes.
Mother
of stillborn child starts support group: Joanne Cacciatore
keeps a memory book of her daughter Cheyenne's birth.
There are photographs of Cheyenne being rocked by her mother.
Pictures of the proud father, Paul, showing his baby to the world.
Snapshots of Cacciatore kissing her little baby girl. There are
also pictures of Cheyenne in her casket -- her parents saying
"goodbye" to her before they even knew her. "Little
child of mine...on this day, you died and you have taken with
you more than your own life...you have taken my life too,"
Cacciatore wrote July 27, 1994, in a letter to her daughter. "I
died with you today, little child of mine. Your tiny presence
has changed my life forever."
Archaeologists
study Teotihuacan: SAN JUAN TEOTIHUACAN, Mexico --
On a platform of volcanic stones, feathered dancers shuffle and
stomp to a beat pounded out of a wooden drum. They've come here
from a nearby farming village to ask the gods for rain. What draws
them are the massive stepped pyramids, which rise hundreds of
feet above the treetops in this tiny town. To the Aztecs, inheritors
of the ancient city, this is where the universe was created. They
wrapped their mythology around the monuments and called it Teotihuacan
(pronounced Teo-tea-wok-on), which means "City of the Gods."
But the actual identity of the people who built the pyramids is
not so clear and much more mysterious. Unlike the Aztecs and Mayans,
the people from Teotihuacan had no written language. They left
no descriptions of who their rulers were or why they made such
magnificent structures. Solving these mysteries has been a goal
of ASU archaeologist Saburo Sugiyama for 15 years. And in October,
it appeared as if his search was over.