Three Years

by Telling Dad on June 8, 2012

Three years ago today, my wife’s family endured more pain and anguish in mere hours than anyone deserves to experience in a lifetime.

It was on this day, June 8th, 2009 that the world lost three precious souls.

And with them, the laughter, the unconditional love, the innocence.

What started as worry over their whereabouts turned quickly to fear as the demon’s morning actions came to light. Not long after, the fear turned to unimaginable heartache and literal personal terror. Should you want the backdrop, you can read about it here, because I don’t want this post to be about despair or lost hope.

I want it to be about resilience.

I’m in no position to try and put myself in hers, but I think it’d be easy and equally justified to lose the desire to carry on if I had suffered the same loss as Marci. For days following the tragedy, my wife was inconsolable. She simply couldn’t process the loss of her aunt and the loss of her cousin’s two young children. She couldn’t suppress the wails, the huddled sobs, or the constant tears. But most of all, she didn’t know how Marci would be able to carry on. She didn’t know what to expect, what to do, or what to say when she arrived in Ohio for the funerals.

But it was at this service that everyone borrowed from Marci’s strength. No doubt the surreal loss rocked her to her very core, yet there she was consoling others who had come to console her. There she stood vowing that her abuser would never win. Promising that through her loss, she’d eventually find peace and rekindled hope.

And three years later, she has.

Just as she told her ex-husband in court as he awaited a sentence of death, he didn’t break her. He only made her stronger.

“Your intent was to hurt me. This, you accomplished.
Your intent was to take away those who meant the most to me. This, you accomplished.
And your intent was to destroy my ability to carry on. In this…you failed.
I will smile again. I will laugh again. And I will love again.
You may have destroyed a part of my life, but you didn’t destroy me.”

Today, Marci is married to a wonderful, devoted, and caring man. Together, they have a beautiful baby girl and another on the way. She continues to teach, just as she had before the tragedy, and she continues to be a rock for the very family that rushed to embrace her.

It was through this experience and through my desire to turn tragedy into hope that my Sweet Dreams Fund was formed. Through it, we take donated funds and purchase pillows, coloring books, crayons, and teddy bears for area domestic violence shelters. In the past three years, hundreds of these Goodnight Sleep Kits have been delivered in their memory (check out what YOU did), and I’m hoping to do even more by synchronizing pilot programs in other areas some day.

Today, I want to honor the memories of “Pal”, Macy, and their devoted grandmother, Margaret. And also the resilience of Marci.

Because just as she promised to do…She smiles. She laughs. She loves.

But more importantly, she has a loving husband and a precious daughter by her side.

And with them, the laughter, the unconditional love, the innocence.

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Girl on the Run

by Telling Dad on June 7, 2012

Recognizing that I’m a lost cause when it comes to running 5K’s, my wife has shifted her focus to our 4-year old daughter.

Her dream of having a family that bonds together through running died on the day we got married, because unless there’s a basketball in front of me or something with fangs behind me, I just can’t find the motivation.

Regardless of the health benefits, I find it extraordinarily boring and equally pointless to run around in circles until you’ve rendered yourself immobile with lung cramps.

It’s not that I haven’t tried to get into the spirit of it all. When Heather and I were first together, I thought I could further galvanize our relationship by joining her for a few laps around the block. I had witnessed other couples doing this together, being all romantic as they ran side by side, and I thought it’d be nice to do that with her and then return home for a sezzy-time shower to cool off.

Instead, it almost killed our relationship.

The problem with using sex as a motivator to run is that the desire to snuggle vanishes when you feel like your chest cavity is on the brink of implosion. The last thing I wanted following my collapse was more exertion and I could barely even muster the strength to wave her off.

Our run started out great. We ran alongside each other, shared some light conversation, and I was able to keep pace. But as our run progressed, I saw Heather’s ugly side. By the time we turned off our driveway and onto the sidewalk, she became a tyrant in Reeboks. Doting and caring just minutes earlier, this beautiful girlfriend of mine had suddenly transformed into a berating drill sergeant hellbent on running me until I was wheezing like an asthmatic in a cigar bar.

It wasn’t long before she was several hundred feet ahead of me. She stopped, turned, and briskly jogged in place while telling my “sorry ass” to “catch up.” I’m not sure if many of you know this, but it’s really hard to run fast when you have to clutch your sides to keep your innards where they belong. She either didn’t know this or simply didn’t care because she commanded me to “run through the pain.” Which I did, deviating only occasionally to make sure I wasn’t being trailed by my intestines.

At one point in our run, one of my legs just stopped working. I’m not sure if it went on strike or if it had simply exceeded its exercise threshold, but it went limp. While my right leg still had that galloping spring, my left was forced to drag a foot behind it. What this left me with was an awkwardly bouncy Igor-like runner’s gait to go along with my side-clutching survival technique.

Spectators of our failed attempt at bonding wouldn’t have seen a loving couple running together on a beautiful spring day. What they would have seen was a spastic grunting freak shuffle-chasing a lovely young woman who was cursing as she ran away from him.

Had the recent apocalyptic Miami zombie experience been fresh on people’s minds back then, I’m certain I would have been shot based on how it must have looked. Quite honestly, I could have used the rest. At least until Heather leaned over my seized body demanding that I get up and run my “sorry ass” to the gurney.

In the interest of preserving our relationship, that was our first and last run together. She did coerce me into doing a 5K Run/Walk 12+ years later, but our marriage was strong enough by then to handle the strain. As I explained it, the “Run/Walk” portion meant that one person had to run and one person had to walk. I volunteered to do the latter and then watched Mickey Blue Eyes on my Blackberry as I slowly meandered my way through the course.

When I was lapped by a pregnant woman and then passed by two mothers pushing strollers tethered to dogs, I knew I was keeping the proper pace. We had paid $25 a piece to be in this thing and I saw no point in getting it over with as soon as possible. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

By the time I crossed the finish line, I had already been long penciled in as the last place finisher out of more than 400 entrants. The only people behind me were the police officers in charge of picking up checkpoint pylons. I rushed to Heather with open arms as though I had just finished pulling my own sled in the Iditarod but she shunned me. Say what you will, but I was the only participant in that 5K who wasn’t dripping in sweat.

Fast forward to last weekend and I was asked to attend Paige’s 5K Butterfly Run in Syracuse, New York to help raise money for pediatric cancer research. Because we had to leave the house at 6am, and because I’m lucky to even know my own name at 6am, I made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to run, jog, or even walk. I would be there purely in the interest of financial and moral support.

It would have been even better had they started this at a decent hour for us night owls.

Over the past several months, Heather has been helping with the local “Girls on the Run” chapter, which is an organization devoted to building self-confidence, self-esteem, a positive self image, and a healthy lifestyle in girls in Grades 3-5. Twice a week she would be there helping to coach and cheer on the participants with fun games, lesson plans, and spirit sprinkles.

The region-wide Girls on the Run participants. Oh, and Kamryn.

The program was partly designed to train these girls for the upcoming 5K race at Paige’s Butterfly Run. Kamryn had been attending each of the GOTR sessions and was excited to join the 1500-person strong event. Mainly because at her age she just doesn’t know any better.

As I explained to Heather, I don’t need to actually RUN to support the cause. Whether I write a check and blitz across the finish line in first place or write a check and then set up a lawn chair next to a Hibachi grill, it’s of little concern to the organizers. Besides, I can always live vicariously through my children and keep my lungs as I like them. Relatively deflated.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting her to finish the race considering she just turned 4 years old. Even more so because she’s my child. My lazy genes have to be in there somewhere. Fortunately, it seems apparent that my wife’s genes clubbed mine into submission because she did it. In fact, she crossed the finish line in just under 41 minutes. 40:54 to be exact.

No longer Kamryn, she's now known as Runner 1199.

Psyching up the team with high fives!

Some pre-race dancing with her running buddy, Big Bro.

And they're off! Kamryn is somewhere in the thick of it.

Finished!
Kamryn proudly displays the medal she has yet to let go of.

Even though she came in 1,398th place out of 1,531 entries, she proudly tells everyone she sees that she “winned” the race. I know it’s poetic and acceptable smarminess to say she’s a winner because she tried, but she really did win the race. At least for her age group. As the youngest entrant by three years, I think her time is quite an achievement. Especially considering she would have smoked me had I not been busy guarding the finish line.

In the end, all of the Girls on the Run participants finished the race, just as they had set out to do together. As each crossed the finish line, those already there were cheering loudly and embracing the incoming GOTR runners. Cheers that got louder and hugs that got more plentiful as the last few girls approached.

The entire scene and the camaraderie they exhibited was quite motivating. Not nearly motivating enough to inspire me to run anywhere, but I could see the gradual change in these girls as they went through the program. And I think the fact that they conquered their own metaphorical version of Mt. Everest will give them lasting and rewarding memories.

At least in Kamryn’s case, she can’t wait for the next 5K. And, to be honest, neither can I. There’s a few movies I wouldn’t mind catching up on.

Taking a well-deserved 5K nap.

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Perry’s Homecoming

by Telling Dad on June 7, 2012

This isn’t a real post, just more or less an update. As well as an invitation.

When we purchased a fire engine from the Town of Perry last year, we made a promise to return for their fire department’s 125th Anniversary Parade in June 2012.

And come this Saturday, we’ll deliver on that promise when we roll into Perry, New York with a shined up fire truck. Lights whirling, sirens blaring, horn blasting…and riders riding. If you’re nearby, you’re welcome to ride along just as these little elves did during the “It’s a Wonderful Life” parade:

A few readers and their families rolled into town to take part. We'd love a repeat!

While I’m not a big fan of $170 oil changes, owning Perry has been an amazing experience. As we pledged to do, he’s used for parades, fundraisers, and community events. Even more enjoyable, he’s used as a mobile jungle gym by area children and is well known as the coolest taxi in the area. The smiles that spread when I pick up Michael and his friends from school in our fire engine makes every expense worthwhile.

For those willing to make the drive, Perry, New York is a small town located about 90 minutes from Buffalo, 45 minutes from Rochester, and 42 hours from Los Angeles. The parade starts at 7pm and we’ll be pulling into town around 5pm. If you think you can make the trip and would like to ride on Perry during the parade, just let me know. If you do happen to live in Los Angeles, it’s probably best that you leave now.

The impossible-to-resist combination of red and chrome.

When I was her age, the biggest fire engine I got
to play with was made by Matchbox.

Parade route seats still available!

Me and my co-pilot.

Me and the woman who made it all possible by not divorcing me when I came home and said, "Honey. I bought a fire truck."

So, think you can make it? Want to join us?

What if I sweetened the deal by offering up your very on plastic fire helmet upon arrival?

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