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We at Revive Retro are not only interested in hosting events; rather, we are dedicated to reviving the spirit of a bygone era. The founder of Revive Retro, David Adams, is a visionary who has transformed Revive Retro into a labor of passion. David Adams has over 18 years of expertise in the business world. Through the presentation of the sounds and styles that were influential during a certain era, our objective is to revive the nostalgia that we all possess. Definitely a Night to Remember: The Techno Party in Sydney Located in the heart of Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, Revive retro is the place to go if you are looking for one-of-a-kind throwback experiences. Among the many incredible events that we have planned, one of the most well-known is our Techno Party Sydney. As we take you back in time, we take you to a time when dance floors were alive with energy and the beats were infectious. No matter how much you know about technology, attending one of our techno events will give you with an unforgettable experience. Dance as if it were the 1980s at Sydney's 80s Nightclub's dance floor. If you want to experience the magic of the 1980s, you should come to one of our events at One Nightclub in Sydney. Our establishments in Bankstown, Luddenham, and other localities are designed to transport you to a bygone era by combining the allure of the past with the comforts of the present. The most popular tunes of the 1980s will be played while you dance the night away in an atmosphere that is a great representation of the decade. Our Retro Nightclub Events are perfect for those individuals who have a deep appreciation for the music and customs that were prevalent throughout this illustrious era. Taking pleasure in, savoring, and celebrating at Sydney's Retro Bar An encounter that is reminiscent of the past would be incomplete without the perfect concoction. The nostalgic atmosphere at our nostalgic Bar Sydney is enhanced by the presence of signature cocktails that are served there. Take a moment to picture yourself sipping a classic cocktail while listening to music from the 1980s play in the background. It is the perfect way to make the evening more enjoyable and to build memories that will last a lifetime. Make use of our vintage photo booth to perfectly capture the moment. In order to ensure that your evening is really unforgettable, we have provided each of our venues with a unique photo booth. Creating memories that will last a lifetime along with your loved ones and friends can be accomplished by capturing the happiness and sentimentality of the moment. At each and every event that we organize, our photo booth is a huge hit, and it serves as the perfect environment for you to explore antique photography. The atmosphere is welcoming, and the DJs are lively. At Revive Retro, we believe that everyone should have a great time, regardless of whether they are a seasoned disco queen or a newcomer to the scene. Everyone is welcome to let their hair down and enjoy the music at our retro club events, which provide an ambiance that is both entertaining and inclusive. Our group of retro party DJs knows just how to keep the dance floor humming with excitement from the time the sun goes down till the time the sun rises. By virtue of their great experience and their passion for classic music, they ensure that every event is a night that will be remembered for a long time. Come Celebrate with Us on a Night in Sydney that is Set in the 1980s! Is your mind ready to go back in time and experience the past? Revive Retro invites you to join us in celebrating an amazing and unforgettable 80s Night Sydney. Indulge in specialty cocktails, dance to iconic songs from the 1980s, and create memories that will last a lifetime. At Revive Retro, the celebration never comes to an end, and you will always treasure the memories you make there. Stop by and experience the enchantment once more. Stop by Revive Retro to experience the enchantment of the past in each and every step of your dancing routine. Whether you are attending one of our vintage events, a night celebrating the 1980s, or a techno party, you will find yourself completely submerged in the enchantment of the past. The name of the company is REVIVE RETRO, and the phone number is 1300 134 362. The address is New South Wales, Sydney, Australia. At Revive Retro, where every night is a trip down memory lane and a dance floor is waiting for you, we invite you to join us in dancing into the night. Let's work together to make some memories that will live long in the memory! Visit :- https://reviveretro.com.au/

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We've all heard it. We've all felt it. Someone falls victim to suicide and the *nearly* unanimous cry is, “Why didn't they get help?!” “Why didn't they tell someone?!” Chances are really good that they tried. They tried really hard. But most people who are not at risk of suicide think that the path to it is paved with bright neon signs that say, “SUICIDE! THIS WAY!” The fact is that no matter what side of the political and religious spectrums you are, most people recoil from the subject of death, and the very idea that someone could intentionally end their own life goes against every fiber of our being. So, unless we are forced to deal with the ugly aftermath, we downplay it as much as possible, assuring ourselves that if we saw someone on that awful road, we would recognize it. But would we really? And do we really think that someone who is contemplating suicide sits there logically weighing the pros and cons before seeking advice from their friends and family? Yeah, I didn't think so. In order to recognize the real signs, we first need to get it out of our head that self-inflicted injury or death is about death. It's about pain. Think about the last time you got the norovirus or food poisoning. You felt horrible. It goes on and on and you just want it to stop. Your body contorts involuntarily. You can't think about anything else except that you just. Want. It. To. Stop. What if, instead of twenty-four hours, this state of being kept going – indefinitely. Now, let's imagine that, inexplicably, no one can tell that you have food poisoning. They walk by, try to have conversations with you, go about their business – all while you're being actively, violently ill. You can't speak except in single words and basic concepts. Some of the people who pass by are annoyed. They can't see what your feeling and they wonder why you won't speak in full sentences or aren't paying attention to what they were saying. Others think maybe something's wrong with you and that makes them uncomfortable, so they hurry by. Still others want to help, but they also kind of think – deep down – that you're being a big baby. “Chin up!” they say. “Everything's going to be ok! There was this time when I didn't feel good, so I started exercising and that helped so much! You should try it!” Meanwhile the life is draining out of you and you care less and less. You start to feel as numb as a rock. You may as well be one. A rock can't feel. The more pain you're in and the longer it lasts, the more you become singularly focused on just making it stop. It doesn't matter how. In your helpless state, what you need is someone to recognize that your silence is pain, that your cries are not dramatic, that you are not weak or without faith. You need someone to get down on the bathroom floor and hold your hair back. Because ultimately, it's little, real, meaningful gestures that can help guide hurting people off a path they don't even realize they are on. What signs do we need to be watching for? Everyone is different, so everyone is going to behave differently when they are struggling. Be vigilant when someone is not acting like themselves. They don't seem to be enjoying the things they usually enjoy. Smiles may be scarce and forced. They stay in bed or lay in bed for unusual lengths of times (don't we all want to curl up in bed when we aren't feeling well?). If they go as far as to communicate with us, we need to listen carefully. Don't dismiss self-deprecating language, even if it sounds like a joke. Know when to encourage socialization and when to recognize that it's too much. Recognize also that your own scope of aid may not be enough. Your friend may need gentle nudges towards getting professional help. And if we hear about someone who has fallen victim to suicide – let's not dead-shame. Instead, lets redouble our efforts and pay close attention to the hurting people in our lives. Let empathy wash away the fear and discomfort that so many of us have in the presence of pain. Embody comfort. Listen. Be there. Love.

''We as the society, are guilty of murder for every suicide...'' - Nwokeji Bianca Suicide and depression are one bloodline. Suicide is a rebirth of depression. Depression is a cancer, it eats up your mental stability and deprives you of the purpose for living. At a point, you begin to question your existence, life begins to feel worthlessly anguishing, you'll decide to take the 'easy way out', and then suicide sets in. Let me share a little story. I once knew a woman, or rather, an angel. She shined brighter than Sirius, and her smile; so beautiful and warmer than the rays of the morning sun, levitated weary souls and fixed broken hearts. She brought peace to the unrest and gave hope to the hopeless. She in fact, was a healer and people basked in the warmth she provided. However, a cursed blessing it was, that she be the healer of all except herself for on a sad Saturday morning, wails were heard; she was found dead in her room and on the table, laid a suicide note. She took her own life. Little was it known, that behind that radiating smile, was a soul drowning in a sea of depression, and struggling so hard to survive. No one knew what she was going through; the sicknesses, problems and heartbreaks she faced or; maybe we were too ignorant and selfish to notice that, the warmth she gave was from the fire that consumed her. All she needed was someone to talk to, someone who genuinely cared about her. She was drowning slowly in her sea of depression and all she needed was a lifeguard and when none came, she slowly drowned. Many people out there are like this woman, camouflaging their depression, acting all happy but deep down, they're choking, but why shouldn't they? In a society as selfish and toxic as the one we live in, I'm not least surprised. When people confidently brag about how good they are at being uncaring, why shouldn't suicide be the order of the day? Least I forget, the problem of the present day social media drama. People are out there living fake lives. Acting like life is a bed of roses. They forget that even roses have thorns and quietly the thorns pierce through their sanity. What exactly are we pretending for? Why make other feel inferior with what we posses not? The governments of the world nations are endlessly trying to stop suicide but I feel that, the power to do that, lies in us as a society and individually. Some people are already on a volatile lifeline a little intense crisis, and they vaporize into thin air. All they need is a little care and support, an anchor, a lean on shoulder. A simple act of care goes a long way to save lives. A simple greeting to that homeless man on the street, can go a long way to make him feel relevant. A simple visit to the hospital goes a long way to make the patients feel valid. A short genuine chitchat with that old lonely neighbour of yours goes a long way to resuscitate her a little longer. A little word of encouragement to that hopeless person can go a long way to keep him struggling to survive. Parents, take some time off work to be with your children, have deep talks with them. Show them that you love them, it's not all about making money. Teens and young people, you see that your friend, take some time, have deep talks, its not only about partying and fun. This should be a wakeup call to every member of the society. The moment we decide to start acting selfless, caring and showing love to one another, things will get better and suicide will be eliminated. "The end of the toxic uncaring nature of the people is the beginning of a suicide free society..." - Nwokeji Bianca

He was finally going to get to visit. This had been a long time coming, years in fact. Through a fortunate circumstance, here he was, almost two thousand miles from where he lived. Arriving late in the afternoon, the office was getting ready to close, though the grounds would stay open. The secretary found the information, pulled out a map and marked the spot. When he found the right area, he admired the scenery around him. To the West, the thick stand of trees blocked the view of the Missouri River. The North, East and South were grassy knolls dotted with headstones. He headed up the East hill. One, two, three, four rows up. Count six headstones over. Here was a man who had been proud, talented, and had a volatile temper, much like himself. Here was a man who had fought in a World War, practiced a valuable trade as an electrician, and had been cut down in the prime of his life. Here was his grandfather. He introduced himself, told a little about his life. The more he talked, the easier it became. He told his grandfather about the man's only child, the son who was also a father. He talked about siblings. As the evening gently rolled through the trees that blocked the river view, he talked and talked. There was so much to tell: stories that had been passed down, events where he had participated or at least been present. He stretched out on the grass. He told his grandfather how he regretted not having the chance to meet him in life. He told him how they'd been compared, how the similarities had been seen, both good and bad. Then he listened. He lay quietly as wave after wave of emotion washed over him. There was happiness at meeting one of his grandchildren. There was pride that swelled and almost shimmered with light at how well his boy had done. There was amazement at hearing about some of the places lived, trips taken, events in life. There was sadness, and a touch of bitterness, too: the regret at not having lived to be a part of it. Too soon, it was dark and time to go. He was only mildly surprised that he had to wipe his eyes. He thanked his grandfather, and told him that if there was any way possible, he'd visit again. Driving away, he felt both lighter and exhausted. He didn't wonder about what had been real, what had been imagined. What mattered was the connection, a connection he hoped would last.

If you're looking for a scenic, relaxing place to take a walk, ride your bike, or go for a run, look no further than the tranquil Greene River Trail running along the Monongahela River, from Millsboro to Crucible. Soon, you'll be able to enjoy the trail all the way tp the outskirts of Carmichaels, with the addition of 2.2 miles of trail from Crucible to Jessop Boat Club. The current trail is 5.1 miles long and once the addition is completed will stretch for 7.3 miles along the river, following the lines of an abandoned railroad bed. The trail expansion will include spaces for benches and picnic areas along its path. The extension project hopes to provide benefits to the local communities. Citizens will have an even better route for walking, biking, and jogging. Public access to new sections of the Monongahela River will be available and it will attract visitors as a destination for outdoor activities. The added visitors will be a boost to local economy, and should create a bigger demand for eating establishments, convenience stores, bicycle shops, and possibly lodging in towns near the trail. The plans for the extension have been in the works for a long time. It took 6 years to acquire all the land needed along the route and then extensive clearing had to be completed to begin work on the trail itself. “No one's been on this land for 60 years,” says Jake Blaker, Director of Greene County's Department of Recreation. “There's a lot of brush growth, slips and slides. We've done a lot clearing and grubbing for the extension.” Drainage, creating culverts and other environmental issues had to be addressed in the early stages of the project. A bonus in converting rails to trails is that the rail bed aids in the creation of the trail by providing a well-built and stable foundation. The surface is relatively flat, though there is often deterioration in older abandoned railways that is reconstructed. The former railroad that ran along the river was in service from 1901 to 1961 and carried coal along the track from four mines: Gateway, the original Dilworth mine, Crucible, and Nemacolin. It no longer carried coal the last ten years that it functioned, but instead carried supplies for the mines. The coal mines it serviced, much like the railroad ,are no longer there - though remnants of Gateway, Dilworth, and Crucible can be seen along the trail route and further down the river, two buildings still stand from what is left of the Nemacolin mine. The Crucible mine has been reclaimed, the steel recycled and the cement ground up and reused for the Ambridge Walmart near Rt. 65. Still standing as historical markers are the dynamite shack and cap shack. The new extension will also pass remnants of Isabella mine's tipple across the river. With the trail's extension, visitors from throughout the region will be able to appreciate the trail's scenic views of the Monongahela River, countryside, and coal industry remnants. Along the trail, visitors can stop at Pumpkin Run for additional hiking or use of its gazebos, launch watercraft from the improved boat ramp area, watch barges travel up the river, and visit Rices Landing's historic district, added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1992. The trail extension project will help preserve and enhance the scenic and historic resources of the area. The Rices Landing historic district includes a National Historic Landmark, the 110-year-old W.A. Young & Sons Foundry and Machine Shop, as well as the remains of Monongahela River Lock 6, a brick jail built in the 1850s., and other early 1900s structures. A museum, located in one of the houses from Lock 6, features history to the river and its towns. Future extension plans hope to take the Greene River Trail approximately another 7 miles along the river to Nemacolin Mine and end near the former Hatfield's Ferry power station. Farther in the future, plans for the trail will have it running along the shoulder of Rt. 21, across the Masontown Bridge and eventually connecting to the Sheepskin Trail at Point Marion - a hub on the 48-mile West Virginia Mon River Trail system and the 150-mile Great Allegheny Passage. Parking for the trail is currently available at two of the trailheads, Greene Cove Yacht Club and Rices Landing Borough, across from Pumpkin Run Park. Another parking area will be completed at the future trailhead at Jessop Boat Club. Recently added to the existing trail, a new stone bench in honor of Ralph K. Bell has been placed near the Walking Man statue. The Walking Man statue was Hans T. Lubich's Eagle Scout Project completed in 2007. The finished trail will be available to the public in the upcoming months. A dedication ceremony will be held for the opening of the trail, as well as for the addition of new plaques recognizing the historic significance of the trail.

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I am here today for one reason: someone stopped me. The house was vacant, abandoned, and in a neighborhood a few miles from my house. I'd been there three days, hiding from my life. I found a discarded razor blade in the bathroom. I shaved all the hair from my forearms, testing the sharpness. My image in the mirror disgusted me. I held clumps of my shoulder-length hair and cut it all off. I cut my bangs off to my scalp. I screamed myself hoarse. Crying, shaking so much I couldn't stand, I went into another room and sat in the closet. I didn't deserve sunlight. I was dirty, a bad girl. I should kill myself. Then it wouldn't hurt anymore. No one wanted me. I held the razor against my wrist, ready to cut. But how? I didn't know. Then I heard a sound. I froze. A window opened, metal screeching. Was it going to happen again? I scooched into the corner and hid. A walkie-talkie squawked gibberish. Keys jangled. "I know you're here. Someone heard you screaming. Come on out now." His voice sounded warm and calm, not angry. "I'm a police officer. You're not in trouble. I promise." I bit my lip and closed my hand around the razor. I would use it if he was lying. But he sounded nice. I peeked out. He stood in the center of the room, arms at his sides. He had blue eyes and smiled at me. I smiled back. “Come on out. Let's talk for a minute.” He sat and crossed his legs. He said something I didn't understand into the radio on his shoulder. I crawled forward to sit next to him. I crossed my legs and put my hands in my lap, razor still hidden in my right hand. “What's your name?' he asked. “Charity,” I said. “Do you have a last name?” I gave it to him. “I'm Officer Spalding. Wanna tell me why're you here all alone?” I shrugged. “You look like you might be sad.” I nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” I looked at him. To this day, I don't know why, but I trusted him. His eyes were clear and kind. His voice soothed me. The last few days tumbled out, words tripping over each other. I told him about the older neighborhood boy I thought was my friend. How he wanted me to meet his mom and brought me in his house, where it was pitch black. How he pushed me to the floor, took off my clothes, and forced his penis inside me. I wept, reliving the pain, the fear, the smell of his sweat, the sound of him above me. How I screamed, kicked, begged, then just fell silent as he finished. I told him about wanting to die. Office Spalding did the most amazing thing. Slowly, he put his arms around me and held me as I sobbed. He waited while I caught my breath. “What happened to your hair?” “I cut it.” “Oh. With scissors?” I shook my head, held out my hand, and opened it. “With this.” “I see. Can I have that?” I nodded. He plucked it from my hand, tucking it in one of his many pockets. “You are one brave, beautiful young lady. What happened to you isn't your fault. Bad things happen, and we must find a way to work through them. Killing yourself isn't the answer. You are precious. You are so important.” “You think so?” “I know so. Now, I'd like you to make me a promise, one you can never break. Can you do that?” I nodded. “You're going to go through tough times. You'll think you don't want to live anymore. But I want you to promise me you will never, ever, take your own life. I want your word, you won't ever kill yourself.” I thought for a moment and looked at him. Something within me spoke. “I promise.” “Good. Now, how about we get you back home? I'm sure your mom is really worried about you.” “No, she's not. She's going to be really mad.” “She might be. Don't worry, I'll talk to your mom, okay?” I nodded. He helped me to my feet. We climbed out the window and walked to his car. A crowd had gathered, strange faces I didn't recognize. Three police cars formed a semi-circle around the driveway, lights flashing. I don't remember much of the ride home. I was tired. Hungry. Scared. My mom was livid, but only because I'd been brought home by a cop. She never even reported me missing. A few weeks later she sent me back to live with my dad. I've never forgotten Officer Spalding's words. They're sealed within my soul in a special place. He was right. There have been many hard times since. There have been times I thought I would break my promise. Something just won't let me give up now, no matter how much it hurts. His words ignite the part of me that refuses to quit. He was my guardian angel. He saved my life. I have used the same exact strategy with my own family – my daughter, who struggles with mental illness daily, my son, my husband, and friends. I honor my promise every day. I have saved four people so far. I hope to keep saving more. He was right, as it turns out, I am important. I didn't know how much until many years later. Now I am important to countless people, but mostly to three special, wonderful people I love beyond words. I carry his message with me and share it with all who need to hear it.