镇平哪里算命准(三明一马路算命的) (今日更新中)

LODI, Calif. - An officer saved a man in a wheelchair mere seconds before an oncoming train passed by.The officer’s body camera captured the moment Wednesday morning when she spotted a man in a wheelchair stuck on the tracks in Lodi, California. The crossing arms were coming down and she jumped out of her patrol car.The video shows Officer Erika Urrea run to the man and pull the man from the chair. Both of them fall to the ground as the train passes by. 465

Los Alamos County, New Mexico is ranked the healthiest community in America, according to U.S. News & World Report’s 2020 rankings.As for the other healthy communities, six of the top ten counties are in Colorado and two are in Virginia.U.S. News uses public health data and information from health insurance company Aetna.Access to healthy food, clean water, health care, school and law enforcement spending are considered. New components like evictions and how well people are coping with economic changes also are part of the rankings.In most cases, the higher the health ranking, the better the area did with COVID-19.“What helped them do better was if they had an infrastructure that was able to handle the pandemic, like access to hospitals, access to emergency rooms and access to health care in general,” said Joe Williams, Senior News Editor at U.S. News.Better educated and physically healthy populations also coped better with the virus, two areas where there are historic racial disparities.“The counties that tend to be ranked at the top tend to be whiter and that corresponds with higher income, corresponds with higher education, so it’s really difficult to find a majority minority county that's actually doing pretty good in our measures,” said Williams.Counties that moved up in rankings spent more on health infrastructure. Counties near big suburbs brought in more jobs.There are simpler ways to improve community health. Williams says some communities do better by developing a system of parks and walkable locations, like in Tazewell County, Illinois.That county also managed to improve its rank by bringing down the teen pregnancy rate through a school education program. 1702

Looking around the room where Hector Barajas spends the majority of his time, you could easily forget you’re in Mexico. American flags, G.I. Joes, and military dog tags line the walls.“I wanted to serve my country,” Barajas recalls, of his decision to join the United States military, where he served 82nd Airborne Division of the U.S. Army from 1995 to 2001.But he sits in Tijuana not by choice.“I was picked up by immigration and deported in 2004,” he said.The phrase “deported veteran” may not be a common part of most people’s vocabulary, but they exist—and there are many.The military does not keep and make public an official count of deported veterans, but the ACLU, which assists deported veterans, including Barajas, estimates the number is easily in the thousands.“One of the most difficult things is being separated from your kids,” Barajas says, referring to his 11-year old daughter who still lives back in California with her mother.  “I try to call her everyday in the mornings when she’s going to school, and we Skype.”Barajas was born in southern Mexico. His parents had crossed the border illegally some time earlier, and when Barajas turned 7, Barajas—along with his sister and a cousin—crossed over to meet them.  They succeeded and spent the majority of their upbringing in southern California.He considers the U.S. his only real home.“It’s where I grew up, it’s where I studied. I did everything in the United States.”It’s also where he took an oath to defend that very same country.But shortly after his enlistment ended in 2001, Barajas says he made a mistake. He was convicted of “shooting at an occupied motor vehicle” and sentenced to prison.  Not long after his release two years later, he was picked up and deported to Mexico.He made it back to the U.S.—“snuck” back home, as he says—and was able to remain until authorities stopped him following a fender bender in 2010. That lead to his re-deportation.He’s been fighting to become a permanent citizen ever since. California Governor Jerry Brown pardoned him last year, erasing that conviction off his record. That, he says, gives him hope that citizenship may not be far off.But in the meantime—and for the last 5 years—Barajas has devoted his time to helping other deported vets. He created the Deported Veterans Support House in Tijuana.“I basically started doing this full time and turning my apartment into a support house [in 2013] and then it just took off from there,” he says smiling.It’s a place where recently deported veterans can get help with benefits, compensations and benefits they may be owed, even medical assistance.He says they’ve had about 40 people in total utilizing the shelter as a temporary place to live. Barajas says one of the hardest parts about being deported is losing your support network and going through it all in what for many of them is a strange land.“When you get deported some of us really don’t know the country that we’re deported to. We may not have been to this country since we were children.”He wants anyone enlisted in the U.S. military to know one thing: just because you have legal permanent resident status and you join the military, it does not guarantee that you will automatically become a citizen. You have to actively pursue citizenship.“When I got my green card, it’s a legal permanent resident card,” Barajas says. “I thought it was permanent. But its not permanent.”As for the crimes he and other veterans may have committed that lead to their deportation, he says every makes mistakes—but they should be allowed to pay their debt to society and remain in the U.S.“Regardless of what these individuals have done they should still be allowed to stay in the U.S. with their families,” he said. Now, the only way he may be guaranteed to get back into the country he calls home is when he dies since he would be eligible for burial at Arlington National Cemetery. 3927

LOS ANGELES (CNS) - The Securities and Exchange Commission announced Friday that Calabasas-based Cheesecake Factory Inc. will pay a 5,000 penalty for making "false or misleading" disclosures about the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on its business operations and financial condition.This is the first time the SEC has brought allegations against a public company for misleading investors about the financial effects of the pandemic.According to the SEC's order, the Cheesecake Factory restaurant group said in regulatory filings in March and April that its eateries were "operating sustainably," while failing to disclose that the company was losing roughly million in cash per week and had just 16 weeks of cash remaining.The order finds that although the company did not disclose the information in its filings, the group did share the particulars with potential private equity investors or lenders as it sought additional liquidity during the public health crisis.Without admitting the SEC's findings, the restaurant company agreed to pay the penalty and to cease-and-desist from further violations of the charged provisions. In determining to accept the settlement, the SEC said it considered the cooperation afforded by the company.A Cheesecake Factory representative pointed to a disclosure form filed Friday in which the company stated it was in full compliance with the cease- and-desist order and that the company "fully cooperated with the SEC in the settlement" without admitting or denying the regulators' allegations.The order also finds that although the March filing described actions the company had undertaken to preserve financial flexibility during the pandemic, it failed to disclose that Cheesecake Factory already had informed its landlords that it would not pay rent in April due to the impacts that COVID- 19 inflicted on its business."During the pandemic, many public companies have discharged their disclosure obligations in a commendable manner, working proactively to keep investors informed of the current and anticipated material impacts of COVID-19 on their operations and financial condition," SEC Chairman Jay Clayton said. "As our local and national response to the pandemic evolves, it is important that issuers continue their proactive, principles-based approach to disclosure, tailoring these disclosures to the firm and industry-specific effects of the pandemic on their business and operations. It is also important that issuers who make materially false or misleading statements regarding the pandemic's impact on their business and operations be held accountable."Cheesecake Factory had notified its landlords that it wouldn't pay rent on April 1 due to financial complications stemming from the coronavirus outbreak. A letter sent by Chief Executive David Overton to the restaurant group's landlords -- many of which are shopping mall operators -- was released publicly in March by Eater L.A.The company has 294 restaurants in North America, 39 in California and five in San Diego County.Its largest landlord is Indianapolis, Indiana-based real estate company Simon Property Group, which provides space for 41 Cheesecake Factory locations, according to the San Fernando Valley Business Journal."When public companies describe for investors the impact of COVID-19 on their business, they must speak accurately," said Stephanie Avakian, director of the SEC's Division of Enforcement. "The Enforcement Division, including the Coronavirus Steering Committee, will continue to scrutinize COVID- related disclosures to ensure that investors receive accurate, timely information, while also giving appropriate credit for prompt and substantial cooperation in investigations." 3725

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Ariana Grande has announced she is engaged in a series of social media photos of her and her fiance, and her engagement ring. The “Rain on Me” singer posted the photos of her cuddling with Dalton Gomez, a luxury real estate agent, on Sunday. The post reads "forever n then some (sic)" and includes a close-up photo of the pearl and diamond engagement ring. 384

来源：资阳报