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When students across the US walk out of class for 17 minutes today, many of them will be wearing orange.It's more than just a simple choice in clothing — it's meant to send a powerful message.The color choice dates back to at least 2013 when 15-year-old Hadiya Pendleton was shot and killed in Chicago. Hadiya was an honor student who was killed in a case of mistaken identity -- a week after she performed at one of the events surrounding President Obama's second inauguration.Her parents, Cleopatra Cowley-Pendleton and Nathaniel Pendleton, picked the color orange to honor her and to call for gun reform.Why? It's what hunters wear to protect themselves — from other hunters.This is how their organization, We are Orange, explains it:"Orange is what hunters wear in the woods to protect themselves and others from harm. Orange is a bright, bold color that demands to be seen. Orange expresses our collective hope as a nation — a hope for a future free from gun violence."The group published a video that ends with the quote "So tell me, can you see me now?"Everytown for Gun Safety, a gun-control advocacy nonprofit, learned of the movement and brought it to the national level.The movement and choice of color has not gone without criticism, however. The National Rifle Association called the campaign "pointless" and a "thinly veiled anti-gun stunt" in a statement in its journal, America's 1st Freedom.It's not just students who have been wearing orange since the Parkland shooting. Celebrities at the Oscars this year also wore orange pins. 1565

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. - For better or worse.Attorneys in South Florida say that during the COVID-19 pandemic, more couples are requesting prenuptial agreements.For Amanda Locker, her wedding day felt like a fairy tale."Was only thinking marriage, kids, and being married forever," Locker said.10 years after tying the knot..."Two beautiful children, but our lives did change. Could I imagine being married today to the same gentleman? Absolutely not," Locker said.Now the former stay-at-home mom imagines if she would have had a prenuptial agreement."I think I would want to sign one to protect myself," Locker said.According to the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers, 60% of family law attorneys surveyed reported an overall rise in prenuptial agreements in recent years."There’s been a lot of postnuptial agreements, prenuptial agreements," attorney Abigail Bebe said.WPTV called six local attorneys and five of them said during the pandemic they’ve seen an increase of prenuptial agreements. Bebe said you should start the process at least three months before the wedding."It’s really the ideal time to make plans so when it comes to that if it ever does, there are really fewer things to fight about," Bebe said.Licensed clinical social worker and family therapist Alyse November said the pandemic is bringing up difficult financial conversations for couples."We want to hear, really hear and when we hear we can repeat it and ask somebody did I get it? Did I get everything that you were saying? And the next step we want to have them do is ask them if there’s anything more you want to tell me about this," November said.This story was first reported by Sabirah Rayford at WPTV in West Palm Beach, Florida. 1725

When Missy Owen heard that the non-profit National Safety Council was putting together a memorial for opioid victims called "Prescribed to Death" and was, in effect, looking for personal stories to help put a human face on the crisis, she was excited. “I was like, 'oh yes, this is a great idea,'” Owen said, “This is an awesome project, yes I’ll do that!”The project would be another way to try and keep the memory of her son Davis alive. Not only that, but it could potentially help make an impact on others in the hopes of one day ending the epidemic that takes 22,000 lives a year.“I knew that it would help other people,” she said.But months went by.“I procrastinated, and I procrastinated," she said.Owen said bringing herself to fill out the paperwork — to spell out, in detail, the pain she suffered when she lost her 20-year-old son, an honor student and class president — was so painful that she waited until the very last day the organization would accept submissions.But in the end, she said she knew this memorial would be something people would remember.“You look at all this, and you go up to it, and you see it, and you see those faces so close,” she said.With this exhibit, being close is the only way to experience it because it consists of 22,000 pills, one for each opioid death that occurs in the U.S. each year.Owen said when she sees the enormity of it, she thinks of 22,000 families that learned to “live differently,” as she had to.“(These families) learned their new normal, and learned to live without someone that they loved and cared for deeply,” she said.But there’s one more layer to the exhibit — each of the 22,000 pills has a likeness carved into it by a 3D printer. The faces are modeled after actual victims of the crisis. Among the 22,000 pills is Davis Owen.“I haven’t found him,” Missy Owen said, staring closely at the rows and columns of tiny white pills. “But I know he’s here.”Owen has seen it several times now. But it’s still an emotional experience. She recalls how Davis fell down the path of addiction.Davis was gifted, Missy said, but his brain had trouble “shutting off.” He had trouble sleeping when he was stressed, and one night he took a seemingly innocuous trip to the family medicine cabinet. “I’m supposing he was looking for something like Advil PM or Tylenol PM, something like that,” she said.He grabbed an old, leftover Vicodin prescription that Missy estimates may have had 30 pills in it. Its label: ‘May cause drowsiness.’“And he was one of those one in 10 people that have that euphoric experience when taking an opioid medication. And he continued to use that bottle until it was gone. By that time he was completely addicted,” she said.It soon turned into a need for the recreational opioid heroin, and that, in turn, led to his overdose in 2014.She and her family have since started the Davis Direction Foundation and The Zone, which helps former addicts to stay sober, to stay “in the zone,” as she put it.One of the hardest aspects for Missy Owen come to terms with is that his death, and those of so many others whose faces are now etched onto that wall, was preventable.“Davis’s story is so sad,” Owen said, “and so awful.”“But it’s not uncommon,” she said.She said she hopes the memorial can help to humanize the epidemic for people who haven’t had to suffer the loss of a loved one, in the hopes that we can stem the epidemic.Maureen Vogel, spokesperson for the National Safety Council, said people have walked away visibly moved.“(People say) ‘it’s encouraging me to change. It's encouraging me to talk to my doctor,’ and ‘it's encouraging me to talk to my own family,'” Vogel said.The exhibit premiered in Chicago late last year, and it goes on display outside the White House this month. Vogel says 14 other cities have expressed interest in hosting the memorial so far. “Data only tells part of the story,” Vogel said. “You have to put a face on the statistic for people to really relate to it,” she said.Missy Owen said she hopes this year is the year the epidemic turns a corner.“We are losing a whole generation of people. It has to be a turning point," she said.  4228

When talking about veteran mental health, much of the conversation is centered on post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and traumatic brain injury (TBI). While both are widespread and debilitating, the mental health-related challenges veterans face go beyond these conditions.Dependable, courageous, and in peak physical shape, Theresa Larson chased perfection when joining the Marine Corps.“I wanted to be the exemplary Marine," said Larson. "To the T. What does a good Marine officer do? I had to do that.”A stellar student and Division 1 college athlete, she had been training for a challenge like this her entire life. With two older brothers in the military, Larson was well aware of the unique challenges she'd face as a female leader. “You have to be really fit and healthy. You have to be fitter than them. They're going to look at you physically and see how you perform," said Larson.Leader of a platoon, Larson was responsible for more than 50 Marines, working to earn their respect while training them for war. “You already fit in if you’re a male, if you’re a female, it's what is she going to do for me? Kind of attitude. And I was prepared for that," said Larson.But chasing perfection would come at a cost; her own well-being was no longer a priority. As the 12 to 15-hour days and mounting pressure felt out of her control, Larson latched onto what she could control. “The drug was food for me, so it ended up turning into the bulimia end of the first year," said Larson.With rigid fitness standards and weight requirements, the National Eating Disorders Association says service members are at especially high risk for eating disorders.“Abuse of fitness and nutrition tends to be the thing. It might not be full-blown bulimia or anorexia, or anything like that, but it can be a lot of disordered eating. Obviously, with yo-yo dieting, too much exercise or too little exercise can affect your focus," said Larson.Before deploying to Iraq, Larson sought help from a friend but didn’t disclose her illness to the military, fearing she’d lose her job.“I tried to make everyone realize I would be OK because I didn’t want to let the Marines down. You know, mission accomplishment and troop welfare are kind of the things we thrive on as Marines, especially Marine leaders," said Larson. No longer at a desk, leading operations and landmine missions, the responsibility to protect her platoon had never felt greater."It dawned on me, 'gosh, I’m really not OK. And this is not about me. It's about all the Marines I’m taking care of. So yeah, I’m sick, and I’m going to affect someone else.' It was a wake-up call," said Larson.Larson was sent home and said she had to fight to get treatment in the military. While grateful they covered 12 weeks of care in an outpatient rehabilitation clinic, Larson says she was on her own to continue getting help.“Anyone knows that has an addiction, it’s not just a, 'OK, you're done.' It's a continuous, daily decision and practice. And so, I ended up paying for my own care after that for a while," said Larson. "It was a couple of years until I stopped the symptoms of bulimia, and then was just dealing with what was left-- the depression, the anxiety, and managing that.”She says getting healthy became her job. And after the military, Larson helped others do the same. She wrote a memoir about her military experience and has since been contacted by countless service members and veterans struggling with similar challenges. “As a leader, there's a fine line of when you push yourself and when you need to ask for help. And asking for help, I’ve learned, is not a weakness. It’s a strength," said Larson.After earning a doctorate in physical therapy, Larson and her husband founded Movement Rx, a program helping people around the country uncover the root cause of their pain and injuries. “Just because someone is in a wheelchair, that’s not the only thing going on. Or if someone looks like they’re fine, it doesn’t mean they don’t have something going on," said Larson. In addition to free online resources for veterans, Movement Rx has free in-person training for veterans in San Diego. “We have our health care platform that veterans can use, offering mindfulness and meditation, nutrition support, fitness, as well as movement, working through injuries," said Larson. While there's more help now for struggling veterans and service members, Larson knows asking for it is still just as hard. “You asking for help, it's going to open more doors and more growth than you can ever imagine, but you have to take that vulnerable leap, and that's when life really happens." 4633

While most people seek safety during danger, Ebonique Johnson actually hurries to the frontlines.“I’m running towards it because that’s where I’m needed the most,” said Johnson, a nursing student at Georgia State University in Atlanta.Set to graduate in December, she’s looking to land a job at an ICU.“I want to be where I’m needed,” Johnson said. “I want to help the COVID patients.”That help could come sooner or later depending on where she gets a job.Some states are waiving certain regulations and allowing nursing students to enter the workforce more easily. Other states, however, have prevented nursing students from working with COVID-19 patients altogether.“We can’t hit the pause button with what’s going on, nurses are needed now more than ever,” said Dr. Regena Spratling, associate dean for GSU’s school of nursing.She says coronavirus concerns have limited student access to hospitals for hands-on clinical training and that more courses are now being taught online.“We’re really focusing on what they would be doing within the health care system as far as taking care of patients,” Spratling said. Despite changes, GSU is seeing more people looking to join its nursing program.For GSU nursing student Phillip Parnell, this pandemic is personal.“One of my older relatives recently passed away with the virus,” he said.The army veteran is now making his second career his first priority.“When it hits home, it’s a different level of intensity,” Parnell said.The Bureau of Labor Statistics says the health care industry needs more than 200,000 new nurses each year through 2026 just to replace retiring nurses.“Although we never thought we would see a pandemic in our lifetime, it’s here,” Johnson said.GSU students are happy to be leading the next generation of nurses while also fighting COVID-19 on the frontlines.“We answer the call to be there for people,” Johnson said. “It’s our time to show up.” 1925

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