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CONTACT: Tianalei Siufanua

619-971-2765

EMBARGOED UNTIL 10:00 AM Nov. 18, 2014

Flu Vaccinations Strongly Encouraged

PROVO, Utah—In hopes for a healthier student environment, BYU promotes all students to get their flu vaccination at our Shot Drive taking place on November 19, 2014.

According to our findings, “only 15% of current BYU students are getting their annual flu shot.” Most students don’t see the importance of attaining the flu shot each year, or the high risk of getting the virus while attending the University. Lack of sleep, eating habits, and stress levels make students more susceptible to getting the flu.

Because of strong vulnerability in college settings, BYU encourages that all students get their flu shots before the end of the fall semester. By doing this, the common wealth of the whole campus is in the hands of individual students.

BYU Shot Me is a new campaign that will be launched in order to gain advocates for flu shot. In order to provide better quality of education when attending college, getting a flu shot is essential. BYU will be promoting flu shots through social media, posters, fliers, and brochures.

“Be sure to look out for where and when to get your flu shots. There will be many opportunities to get informed and even win prizes” encourages Samantha Richeson, lead supervisor over the launch of BYU Shot Me Campaign.

This new campaign will be able to give students, faculty, and parents more information on the importance of flu vaccinations. For more information visit flu.byu.edu.

CONTACT: Tianalei Siufanua

619-971-2765

EMBARGOED UNTIL 10:00 AM Nov. 1, 2014

New Prospects for Closure of Walton Corp. Luckyville Facility

LUCKYVILLE, Utah—In hopes for company growth and reduced costs of Walton Corporation products, Luckyville manufacturing facility will close and consolidate to one of its other two sites by December 31, 2014.

“We are truly sorry to those who will lose their jobs due to the decision of closing the Luckyville facility. However, our employees will receive severance pay for their loyalty to our company,” said Susan Walton, CEO of Walton Corporations.

The closing down of the plant is due to market influences. The company had anticipated the launch of a profitable new product, but another competitor introduced a similar product into the market first.

In order to provide better services for their customers, Walton Corporations believe that emerging their markets will be most beneficial. Closing this facility and consolidating to one of their two sites will ultimately reduce costs enough to remain profitable.

“It is a tragedy closing this facility in Luckyville, but this could ultimately be very beneficial for our customers and for our company to move forward,” assures Walton.

Walton Corporation has been in business since 1978, specializing in manufacturing software. Their three facilities were located in Luckyville, Minneapolis, and Pittsburg. For more information see Web site at www.waltoncorp.org.



writing samples||

A Place I Feel At Home

            I can hear the rhythmic sounds of the Mexican radio station as I approach the back door to the kitchen. As always, Rico is cutting up lettuce as he greets me with a friendly “Hola, como estas?” I near the front of the kitchen, already smelling carne asada, calamari, cilantro, and a mix of spices. Salvador and Rafael both address me with a “Buenas dias mija.” Rafael taunts me calling me “la sirena”, meaning mermaid in Spanish, and I taunt him back calling him Sebastian from little Mermaid. He hates to be made fun of. But all the other cooks think it’s hilarious, as do I.

            I reach the main dining area of the Downtown Café and hear the familiar hypnotizing country songs play, and I can’t keep from singing along as the day progresses. My boss walks in casually joking asking when I will ever be eighteen so I can become a server. However I am satisfied as a hostess, they all think I am good at what I do. They all acknowledge my hard work, how I never leave the ketchup tray empty, or the ice machine iceless, or food sitting on the food line. They compliment me, telling me I can multitask, that I can watch the door and take out food. When I dropped two plates of food in front of the customers, all they did was help me clean it up and ask the cooks to make another plate, no questions asked.

            Not once have I felt as if I was an outsider. These people that I only saw three times a week became my family. Downtown Café was my home. I became apart of them. And they accepted me through my mistakes and my triumphs; I was apart of the Downtown Café family.

Room 6017 

I could hear my Nana on the phone, “He has an ear infection and a high fever. His pee is brown, but I think it is from all the root beer popsicles he ate! I am sure he will be fine.”

            My Nana looked after us while my parents celebrated their ten-year anniversary in Vegas. I hated when we were in her care. She would only let us use one square of toilet paper and we could never use paper towels because she thought it was “a waste.” She was from the great depression, so what did she know? She also didn’t believe modern medicines could cure any sickness. When we were sick, she preached that her Youngevity vitamins were the only solution to everything. Drinking her herbal teas, we would have to force down the dirt tasting pills. She thought there was really no need for doctors to diagnose a simple ear infection or cold (or even have an answer for brown pee?).  But who would have thought that my little brother could be diagnosed with such a life threatening disease.

            “It looks like your son has lost a lot of blood, so we are going to admit him to Children’s Hospital immediately.” Fear and confusion struck across my mother’s face as the nurse turned to call Children’s Hospital to prepare a bed for her son. My dad was frantic and dumbfounded that his boy was being admitted to the hospital in critical condition. I was confused. How do you even lose blood? What is happening to him? Is he going to die? Not normal questions a ten-year-old girl asks of her younger brother.  My brother—yellow-faced, constantly throwing up, with eyes closed like he hadn’t slept in days—laid in a red wagon as we pulled him through the glass doors of Rady’s Children’s Hospital, probably wondering the same things.

Floor six, room 6017, the fumes of latex gloves and hand sanitizer tried to mask the smell of throw-up, blood, and diarrhea. Meal charts, lab schedules, and emergency procedures covered the walls. We approached the large room with an oversized window looking out to the parking lot. Compared to the deep blue walls, surfer bed spread, and shark painting on his closet door, this basic room was nothing like my brother’s room at home. It was obvious how the nurses tried to make the sixth floor look a little more inviting with cutouts of fishes and seaweed pasted on the doors of each room. But none of the decorations could cover up the fact that this was my brothers “new room.”

            Patiently we waited, listening for updates and instructions on what happens next. My mother whispered a prayer, loud enough for even Kaleo to hear, as he lay, zombie- like, on his bed. My dad offered a blessing and I said a small prayer of my own too.

The treatment would be dialysis everyday and plasmapheresis every other day. His kidneys were drastically deteriorating, but through these procedures the doctors only hoped it would make an influence on his life. Kaleo couldn’t eat or swallow pills so they additionally had to put a g-tube through his nostrils and down his throat so he was able to intake nutrition.

As the nurse forced the tube down his throat, Kaleo screamed to my mom saying “I’m sorry, Ill be good!” still naïve to even realize what was happening to him. My father held my mother back as she tried to comfort Kaleo.

“Everything is going to be alright, you’re being a good boy, this isn’t your fault son,” trying her best to hold the tears back.

It had been a few days since Kaleo was first admitted. My mom’s eyes were stained a permanent red. She didn’t wear make up anymore, she didn’t have time for that. Her hair was greasy and she was in the same black Juicy Couture sweats she had worn yesterday, and the day before that. Still searching for answers, she constantly spoke with the nurses. “What pills are those? What is that your giving him? How much blood has he lost? Is he getting better?”

My dad still had to work. With black tar on his face, dirty hands, the stench of burning rubber, and beat up clothes, he would pick me up from school and we would go to the hospital to see Kaleo. Filled with anxiety about his work, his own health, and his son’s health, he tried his best not to pick a fight with my mom. But somehow it always happened.

“I’m stressed about Kaleo and Tiana while all you do is go home from work and sleep and eat! Do you even care!” My mom quietly complained, making sure I couldn’t hear. But I always did.

“Forget it! I’m leaving then!” The statement my dad always made after he knew he did something wrong, but just didn’t want to admit it.

They were both frustrated, I understood that for sure, but for the sake of my brother, why couldn’t they just get it together? Even the older kids seemed nonchalant about this critical sickness that their younger brother just had been diagnosed with. While they were sent to LA with my uncle months before, in hopes of a better opportunity for them to play football and for my sister to focus on school, they were preoccupied. Busy with their high school lives in Los Angeles, how could they ever have time to come out to see their own brother, let alone talk to him? A phone call would have been nice. Was I the only one that was so uncertain, yet so aware that this could kill my brother? And I was only ten! Did anyone else care?

Days turned into weeks. We were all still unaware of when this nightmare would end. The nurses set up a weekly schedule for when Kaleo’s labs would be. He was finally able to eat actual food after two weeks. His diet changed completely. Good thing he was a 120-pound kindergartener or he would not have survived as a fragile little boy with the food they were feeding him. Unsalted mashed potatoes and strawberry Jell-O seemed to be the Chefs signature dish at the Rady’s Children’s hospital. At least his meals weren’t being fed through a tube going through his nose and into his stomach.

My mom looked like she was losing weight too. Her usual clothes seemed to bag and drag to the floor. She looked as if she were the sick one. But what kind of concerned mother would be dressed up in her best clothes at a time like this? My dad on the other hand seemed like he had been over eating. Probably because my mother nearly lived at the hospital and wasn’t able to monitor his unhealthy habits.

I was in school still and it was one of the toughest elementary years: 3^rd grade. Due to my father working the early morning shifts, I stayed with my best friend Gabby. She was a picky eater who never liked to wash her hair that much and never wanted to ride scooters around on the weekend. I hated that she and her mom would watch CSI every Monday night. Those nights I would call my mom from the bathroom telling her that I couldn’t go down there because, “if I see a dead person I WILL have nightmares!”

I knew my mom was busy. She had enough to worry about, so I didn’t like to concern her with my minor problems. However, at that time, CSI was a major problem. So was living with a family that wasn’t my own. Even though Gabby’s mom was there, I had to be responsible for myself. No one was telling me to do my homework, brush my teeth, or even take a shower. That was my mom’s job. But she was preoccupied with bigger things, and I didn’t want to be another worry in her life. I missed her. I missed my dad, who I only saw when he was done with work. I missed my little brother.  I missed my family. Not only for myself, but also for my family, I knew that I had to grow up. Concerned with all of our problems, there was never a moment where I was certain that everything was going to be all right. My little brother was in the hospital, how could anything be all right?

“They called, and they’re coming down this weekend!” I could see the gapped, crooked smile spread across Kaleo’s face as my dad told us the great news. Finally my older siblings were coming out. I guess that meant that they actually did have time for their family at a trying time like this.

We hadn’t seen them in a while, since they moved out to LA, but we were all still close, and it was the right thing to come out to visit their sick brother. School, music, and relationships could wait. Even at ten years old, I knew that was the mature thing to do. No tension, no fighting, no hate. For the weekend we were all there.

“That’s so Raven, It’s the future I can see. That’s so Raven, it’s so curious to me, yeah!” The familiar tune of our favorite Disney show played as I walked into room 6017. My mom was reading her People magazines that I got her for Mother’s day. She constantly looked up at the TV, smiling whenever Kaleo thought something was funny. My dad started up a conversation with Kaleo and the older boys about Halloween, even though it was months away. Kaleo listed off his costume ideas of a ninja, the grim reaper, or Michal Myers. The boys laughed and joked around as they made fun of all the different ideas they had. “Dad you should be a pumpkin because you’re big!” Kaleo teased. My sister sat by my mom, comparing Jennifer Aniston’s outfit to Angelia Jolie’s. I sat next to Kaleo, watching and listening. And under the laughter and the chatter, I could faintly hear the rhythmic “beep…beep… beep” of the dialysis machine going off.