Hasta La Gadget!

Given that there are a plethora of cross-platform messaging apps available out there these apps have to come up with features that make them stand out from the rest. Viber is a popular messaging app that provides users with both text chat and VoIP features. Today it launched a new feature called Public Chats.

Viber’s Public Chats feature is in beta stage right now and Viber CEO Talmon Marco himself describes it as a social experiment. Public Chats will go live for all Viber users at midnight GMT on Wednesday.

In easy terms this feature can be described as one that lets users follow what companies and public figures are talking about. There are a few launch partners which will be populating these chats initially, launch partners include Pixie Lott, Perez Hilton, DJ Paul van Dyk, football channel COPA90 and fashion company Next Model Management.

Those who are interested in starting an individual public chat themselves can ask for any one of the over 300 spots available by shooting an email to publicchats@viber.com. For now Viber users won’t be allowed to contribute in public chats but the company says that user comments is a feature that will be available down the line.

All public chats on Viber will have a custom URL and some of the most popular chats will be highlighted in a new section, once version 5.1 of the iOS and Android Viber apps go live.

Viber Launches Public Chats , original content from Ubergizmo. Read our Copyrights and terms of use.

In 2012, noted author and surgeon Atul Gawande went on a mission to find community-based service models that could help older people live successfully “all the way to the end of their lives.”

He found one such model at Peter Sanborn Place, a 73-unit affordable housing property and LeadingAge member in Reading, MA.

Sanborn Place isn’t your typical affordable housing community. But each day I grow more hopeful that the services it offers to its residents — services that range from help with meals and shopping to 24-hour personal care — will soon become standard features in affordable senior housing communities around the country.

The fact that Sanborn Place figures prominently in Gawande’s new book — Being Mortal: Medicine and What Happens in the End — is sure to help make that dream a reality.

Peter Sanborn Place: A Better Life

In a chapter entitled “A Better Life,” Gawande reports that all but 13 of the 70+ residents of Sanborn Place receive some kind of supportive service from their housing property.

Sanborn Place provides nursing-home-level-care for some its residents. But Gawande is quick to point out that it is not a nursing home or an assisted living community.

“Officially, it’s still just a low-income apartment complex,” he clarifies, adding that CEO Jacqueline Carson may be Sanborn’s most distinguishing feature.

Gawande describes Carson as “a manager who is determined to enable people to live in their own homes, in their own way, right to the end, no matter what happens.”

Others are Catching On

Sanborn Place and other models featured in Gawande’s book have convinced him that we’re entering a new era of care for aging Americans. He gives credit for that change to the increasing number of professionals, like Carson, who “believe their job is not to confine people’s choices, in the name of safety, but to expand them, in the name of living a worthwhile life.”

My own travels to a variety of professional meetings over the past month have convinced me that this is absolutely true.

Each of those national meetings devoted an impressive — and unprecedented — amount of attention to Housing Plus Services models.

At a housing conference sponsored by the Urban Land Institute and the MacArthur Foundation, for example, we focused on how Housing Plus Services models could help lower income older adults remain independent, healthy and engaged in their communities.

At the annual conference of Grantmakers in Aging, we concentrated on the potentially powerful role that foundations and other philanthropic groups could play in advancing Housing Plus Services models.

At the annual scientific meeting of the Gerontological Society of America, we explored the nuts and bolts of implementing 4 projects that are currently providing services within affordable senior housing communities.

Happy to be Down in the Weeds

When LeadingAge established its Center for Housing Plus Services in early 2013, our staff traveled the country describing this fledgling model and explaining why it made so much sense, particularly in light of national efforts to reduce health care utilization and spending among our most vulnerable population groups.

Almost two years later, we’re moving beyond our original awareness-raising agenda. Now, we’re working “in the weeds” to determine, once and for all, what it will take to embed Housing Plus Services programs within affordable senior housing communities nationwide.

We’re exploring how housing and health care providers can work together to bring services to housing properties and, in the process, decrease residents’ high-cost hospitalizations and emergency room use.

We’re figuring out how best to organize, implement and pay for these service programs.

We’re conducting research to measure the impact that existing Housing Plus Services programs are having on residents, housing properties, health care professionals and payers like Medicare and Medicaid.

Asking the Right Questions — And Moving Forward

We don’t yet have all the answers we need to make Housing Plus Services models the norm. But the willingness of gerontologists, housing experts, health care clinicians, policy makers, and researchers to seriously explore these questions is a very hopeful sign.

Even more hopeful is the “can-do” attitude I’m observing on a variety of fronts. In this era of across-the-board budget cuts, no one knows if or when the federal government will make new and significant investments in Housing Plus Services models. LeadingAge and its partners continue to work hard to ensure that new investment is forthcoming.

In the meantime, however, Housing Plus Services advocates and developers aren’t waiting around. We’re designing strategic and mutually beneficial partnerships and innovative financing schemes. We’re adopting a creative “let’s figure this out” mindset to move our agenda forward.

We’re not closing the door on government funding, by any means. In fact, we’re hoping that our research and creative thinking will spur policy makers at the federal and state levels to see that investments in Housing Plus Services models can actually save public funds in other areas.

In short, we are laying the groundwork to make Housing Plus Services models a respected and sustainable way to ensure that Atul Gawande’s vision for old age becomes a reality: that older adults won’t have to sacrifice their autonomy just because they need help as they age.

We’re literally taking a page out of Gawande’s book by recognizing that our real job is not just to put a roof over the heads of our older citizens.

Instead, our job is to “enable well-being” among older adults so, in Gawande’s words, they have the freedom to shape their own lives and write their own stories.

On Saturday morning Dec. 12, 2009, I was on a gym floor, at an early morning practice in my role as an assistant basketball coach at a high school just outside Chicago. I noticed that I had missed several phone calls from my older brother Mike, unusual for the time of day, but I figured I’d catch up with him after practice. When I called him back, he could barely speak. All he could muster was, “Danny is dead.” His son, my nephew, had been found in his bottom bunk bed by his older brother, John, lifeless. It was just a few months before Danny’s 5th birthday. When I arrived, Danny’s three siblings had been taken to their neighbor’s house, since his parents had rushed to the hospital with Danny. The kids knew something was wrong, but they didn’t know what. When Danny’s dad returned, John, then 6 years old, asked his dad, “Is Danny dead?” His dad replied, “Yes, John. Danny is dead.”

I’ll never forget that.

A parent’s most critical role is to ensure the safety of their child. But because my brother and sister-in-law did not know the full spectrum of risks that Danny’s epilepsy presented, they were not equipped to create the best possible treatment plan for him. Doctors talk on a regular basis about the various risks that accompany seizures — relative to swimming, bathing, driving, and the possibility of head trauma. To omit the single most significant risk a person can face, death, is both confounding and irresponsible.

Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy — or SUDEP — is described by the National Institutes of Health as the most common form of epilepsy-related death. Outside of SUDEP, seizures can also be fatal from a range of other causes: head trauma, accidents, status epilepticus, and suicide among them. It is impossible to know if being informed about SUDEP would have prevented Danny’s death. What is known, however, is that Danny’s parents felt a great sense of betrayal and anger at not having been told. That is what you are left with when you feel you have been robbed of an entire lifetime of opportunities with your son.

Information is power. It’s a mantra and it’s true. During the first or second visit with their neurologist, when the range of epilepsy-related risks should be discussed, Danny’s parents wish that their doctor had said to them, “We know your son is experiencing his seizures only during sleep. Nocturnal seizures are one of the factors that increase his risk for something called sudden unexpected death in epilepsy death, or SUDEP. There’s no known 100 percent prevention for SUDEP, but watchfulness and early intervention — being present during or just after his seizure — will be a big advantage for Danny and could reduce the risk. Here’s some more information on SUDEP that you can read about.” Danny’s parents and others like them are not seeking a drawn-out, isolated conversation about SUDEP. They simply do not want SUDEP to be left out of the conversation.

In 2010, Danny’s parents founded the Danny Did Foundation. The name comes from the last sentence of Danny’s obituary, written by his dad: “Please go and enjoy your life. Danny did.” The mission of the foundation is to prevent deaths caused by seizures, and a central goal is to enhance communication between doctors and families regarding the risk of SUDEP. The aim is not to cause fear or stress, but to empower parents and adults with epilepsy with the knowledge to make informed decisions. That information about SUDEP would optimally come from a doctor, but until that is common practice, the foundation works to fill the communication gap by raising awareness about SUDEP among the epilepsy community and in mainstream society. Some doctors believe that parents are unable to digest “scary” information about the possibility of a seizure leading to death. We hear regular rebuttals from parents: they can take it. When a parent is flying blind about the risks that come with epilepsy, they are powerless to protect a child. When a doctor provides information in an open and honest way, it builds trust and respect, and offers parents the chance to make informed decisions. Parents deserve for that to be the standard. Doctors may feel like talking about SUDEP is a difficult conversation to have, but it is certainly easier than explaining SUDEP after its impact has shocked and devastated a parent.

Simply being present with someone when they are seizing is a huge advantage for them. Danny’s foundation shares information about monitoring devices and technologies that can help to enable early intervention when seizure activity occurs. Danny Did has helped families spanning 47 states and six countries to gain access to these resources. The foundation is a continuation of Danny’s place in the world, and through it, he continues to help others and spread happiness as he would if he were alive today.

Tom Stanton lives in Chicago. He is a dad, writer, and the executive director of the Danny Did Foundation. November is National Epilepsy Awareness Month.

When I moved to New York in 2003 I had big dreams; acting in Broadway plays, scoring a breakthrough role in a small film, and generally becoming the next Meryl Streep. But after a few humbling auditions, I realized I couldn’t pay my rent with my ambition. Just because we make it in New York, doesn’t mean we’re making it in the ways we planned. And since being uncast meant I was already effectively behind-the-scenes, I decided to settle on a career working there.

From personal assisting a Victoria’s Secret supermodel, to stage managing at a tiny theatre, to working for a reputable talent agency, and ending up as a book publicist, I’ve managed to feed my interests in various ways without actually taking the spotlight myself. And along the way, I’ve seen quite a few stars rise even though some industry insiders never thought they would. In 2009, I went to an NYU showcase where I fell in love with a pre-Tony winning Nina Arianda performing her heart out to a scene from Dinner with Friends. I turned to the agent sitting next to me and whispered “she’s amazing!”, but he gave me a thumbs down, whispering back that her look wasn’t commercial enough.

Around that same time I recommended an agent I worked for meet a friend of mine for representation; a then-unknown (but now Tony-nominated) actor. I sang his praises for work I’d seen of his at a teeny theater in Westchester, but my boss looked bored and told me to print his credits from IMDB instead. The agency passed with a snide comment about him “not being much on paper.”

These swift dismissals of obvious talent left strong impressions on younger me and I swore off my own artistic pursuits forever. Why should I follow my own creative dreams when outstanding talent all around me was repeatedly being rejected? I didn’t have the patience or strength to suffer for my art. When acquaintances and colleagues asked me if I cared that I’d stopped acting I performed a convincing monologue about how stability was something that really mattered to me and, well, I just couldn’t have that as an actor. Friends say my best acting gig ever was as an agent.

But after a recent trip to a Broadway play, I felt crushingly homesick for the stage, and decided to email my now-successful Westchester friend mere months before his Tony nod to ask if I could enroll in his scene study class. It had been nearly a decade since I’d been in an acting workshop, but I wanted to see if I could still find a little joy in something that had once been so magical to me. When he replied that he’d be happy to have me, my legs turned to Jell-o. I was both elated and terrified.

My scene partner was a soft-spoken beauty in her fifties who reminded me of Diane Lane. During our first rehearsal she asked where I lived and I boasted that I’d just moved into a new apartment in a nice area of Brooklyn. She said a friend of hers, an actress in her mid-sixties, needed a roommate — somewhere cheap. “And do you know any agents who sign women our age? It’s so hard to get any decent work!”

I ran home to my boyfriend and shook my head with a mixture of pity and anger. “I’m so glad I’m not in their position.” I said. “Being an actor is outrageous!” I felt like giving myself a high five. I’d made the right decision for choosing stability!

However, the next time I met with faux-Diane Lane, there was no chit-chat. We came prepared to work, having taken our scripts home the week before to memorize them. We dimmed the lights and looked across from each other. And in the next moment, it was as if a spotlight appeared around her. I felt like I was witnessing a giant walk a tightrope. My body stiffened and my eyes teared up because I forgot to blink; her talent was so absorbing I was dumbstruck.

“Who is this woman?” I marveled. “Everyone should know who this actress is!”

But a second later, I forced myself to remember how many times I’d felt this way while scouting talent with the agency. As my partner read on, my heart broke like it had in the past. Because it astounds me to think of how much talent there is in New York and it shatters me to think of how much of it goes unnoticed. I was sad for me, too; for not having the courage to pursue a career as an actor without needing to be hugely recognized. Perhaps the stability I have pales in comparison to what she brought to the room that day; the courage to follow her dream regardless of the result.

In 2013 when Neil Patrick Harris performed his epic opening at The Tony’s he delivered this statement to the audience: “There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere who’s sitting there living for Tony performances… reassure that kid, and do something to spur that kid, ’cause I promise you, all of us up here tonight, we were that kid.”

I was that kid, and in some ways I still am. And this year while watching the Tony’s at a friend’s, no one knew that my old Westchester buddy was now a nominee. When his face came on screen I quietly whispered “wow”, then fell silent, consumed with the faces of all the actors I know who were good enough to be sitting there, too.

Jillian Sanders is a writer living in New York City. www.jilliansanders.com

The following article is provided by Rolling Stone.

By BRITTANY SPANOS

Is there a better way to honor a talented, still rising star who was taken from us too soon than an unauthorized Lifetime biopic? Yes, there are absolutely countless ways to pay tribute the late, great Aaliyah than a messy “biographical” movie that merely pulls a few names, dates and locations from her life story. Heavily protested by her family and closest friends and collaborators, “Aaliyah: The Princess of R&B” barely scratches the surface of how she changed the course for pop, hip-hop and R&B in the Nineties and why her death at age 22 on August 25, 2001 was such a huge loss for music fans.

Based off of Christopher John Farley’s 2001 biography “Aaliyah: More Than a Woman,” the film reeks of disapproval from those who actually knew her or engaged with her art. But Princess did teach us some things, though most of those lessons should’ve been learned by the film’s team long before they even began to put together this train-wreck of a biopic. Here are 10 takeaways:

1. You need original music for a biopic on a singer.
That’s a shocker, right? A film about a famous pop star needs more than just the covers she did of other people’s famous songs to survive. Who knew? The introduction to Aaliyah’s hearty repertoire of favorite songs to cover live and on record happens in the first scene, where we’re introduced to the actual baby version of Baby Girl (her nickname) as a 10-year-old on “Star Search” performing “My Funny Valentine.” It’s a taste of what’s in store — all the film offers is an Aaliyah Covers 101 course, thanks to an embargo on Aaliyah’s original music placed by her family. So instead of the hits that made a bona fide pop-star sensation, we get her takes on Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up” and the Isley Brothers’ “At Your Best”; meanwhile, we’re supposed to forget that revolutionary songs like “Are You That Somebody?” “Try Again,” and “One in a Million” were what made her canon-worthy.

2. Actors should maybe look a little bit like the person they’re portraying.
A biopic rule of thumb: If the performances are going to be as weak and uncomfortable to watch as the ones in this film, someone should at least find actors who vaguely resemble the real-life characters they’re portraying. The less said about the portrayals of Missy Elliott and Timbaland, the better; Alexandra Shipp’s performance as the princess herself only had fleeting moments of capturing the essence of Aaliyah, whether it was the way she smirked and how she wore those street-fashion clothes. Never mind that she couldn’t quite master the subtle brilliance behind that soft falsetto large enough to fill a room; overall, Shipp barely has a chance to skim the surface of who this young artist was.

3. The actor playing Young Aaliyah is the only one who even remotely studied her character.
Seriously, give it up for Kamaia Fairburn-Grant, the little girl playing 10-year-old Aaliyah. She mastered every last gesture from the “Star Search” clip in a way that gave us just enough hope that the film wouldn’t be a total mess. It was all downhill from here.

4. Apparently, Aaliyah spoke like an inspirational quotes poster whenever she was offstage.
It was bad enough that most of the supporting characters sounded like they were simply reading inspirational quotes from Hallmark cards; when Shipp pulled out platitudes about her dreams coming true and the joys of real love, however, it was deadly. Every pivotal scene featured Aaliyah spitting out cringeworthy clichés, and the final conversation between her and Damon Dash played out like a collection of Pinterest posts read from cue cards. Any semblance of the personality from their real-life counterparts were vacuum-sucked out. Any of these scenes felt like they could’ve been lifted from any other Lifetime movie, past, present or future.

5. A brief question can always double as major plot point.
Need to address emotional turmoil or a complex situation? Just introduce a new character and simply ask her a couple questions. “Why do you want to do movies?” “Do you like R. Kelly?” “Why did you move to New York?” According to Princess, big moves in Aaliyah’s life didn’t need to be played out or explored — because all she needed was a radio interview, Hollywood executive, or childhood friend to simply give her a prompt and she’d helpfully explain it to the audience.

6. Her relationship with R. Kelly was more “Romeo & Juliet” than “To Catch a Predator”?
From the first vaguely excited reference to R. Kelly at the beginning of the film by Aaliyah’s family, there was something particularly off-putting about the film’s approach to the courtship and marriage of 15-year-old Aaliyah to her 27-year-old producer. Even before there were numerous rape and pedophilia accusations stacked against him, the relationship between the pair was still pretty reasonably disgusting, especially since they were both initially introduced when she was only 12.

7. The latter part of Aaliyah’s career was kickstarted by her heartache.
Though R. Kelly physically exits the picture as soon as her parents find out about the nuptials, his presence lingers over Aaliyah’s personal life and professional career. It’s understandable to an extent: his presence is all over “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number” as producer and songwriter, and they were married. Clearly the break would have an effect on her as she matured into a young woman and artist, but “Princess” makes it seem as if the heartbreak over her star-crossed love was the primary motivation behind her following, and final, two albums.

Yes, getting married that young to some who was as old as the “Bump & Grind” singer surely did have some type of effect — but to treat it like some type of “Waiting to Exhale”-level bad breakup is pretty ignorant of the circumstances. It’s also pretty demeaning to Aaliyah, since fans are well aware that she prospered as a smart and talented artist even without Kellys’ production credits. In fact, she was responsible for finding people like Timbaland and Missy — artists who were arguably even better than her Svengali and inarguably less exploitative.

8. Drake is Aaliyah’s brother?!?
Okay, we know he’s not — but seriously, the actor playing Aaliyah’s older brother Rashad bears a striking resemblance to the rapper who also happens to have a fascination, to say the least, with Aaliyah and her entire web of collaborators. At least there was one person in the film who looked like a famous musical artist! Lifetime should remember this actor for “Started from Degrassi: The Drake Story.”

9. You should always trust a family’s trepidation.
If the family of a deceased subject gets bad vibes from a film about said subject, maybe — just maybe — their expert opinion should be trusted. Barry and Jomo Hankerson, her uncle and cousin who respectively who handle Aaliyah’s catalogue, were unwilling to cough up the rights to any of music or images for use in this low-budget Lifetime production. And rightfully so: imagine how genuinely terrible a recreation of one of her iconic music videos would’ve been in this package? Even if you take out the likelihood that the story’s sensitive material would be treated with tabloid sensationalism, the lack of her actual body of work was the first sign that this film should’ve been stopped well before it was begun.

10. Aaliyah’s story deserves a proper movie.
To be fair, we knew that going in. But this torrid take on Aaliyah’s life only confirms that she deserves much, much better than this. Baby Girl was a breath of fresh air in the era’s pop and R&B landscapes, and has remained so iconic 13 years after a plane crash cut her life short. Clearly, this Lifetime movie was not an ideal way to service her memory. Since her passing, controversy has surrounded the use and manipulation of her material by artists like Drake and Chris Brown, who have jumped on unreleased Aaliyah tracks to add verses and have copped her voice for their own respective songs. Plus, her vocals are even going to be brought to life once more on the forthcoming release from Timbaland protege Tink. But Aaliyah was a private person during her lifetime, so perhaps a preservation of her legacy through equivocated levels of privacy would be ideal for a while — or at least until the Hankersons fulfill their dreams of seeing a much larger Hollywood biopic be made to honor the star.We know we have a one in a million chance of that happen, but a fan can dream.