My Life...lived my way

To Jenny...

2012-01-13T10:05:00.000-05:00

This post is for my beautiful wife, Jenny. Without her love and support, I would never have made it through these last two months.

...

Jenny, you have been my heartbeat for the last 16 years of my life. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were the one who would change my life forever. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. Whether it was something in your eyes, or something in your smile, or somethng in your soul, I don't know, and it doesn't matter. What matters is that you saw it too, and that here we are, 16 years later, raising three amazing children together and sharing a life I never dreamed possible. You've been there to share my greatest joys and my deepest sorrows, and you've always been my light in the darkest of times. I need you more than you'll ever know, and I love you more than words could ever express.

Thank you for loving me. I know that's not easy sometimes.

Thank you for understanding me, and for helping me understand myself.

Thank you for your patience and kindness.

Thank you for listening. Even when it's the middle of the night and you'd rather be sleeping.

Thank you for being there when I need you.

Thank you for giving me space when I need to be alone.

Thank you for accepting my flaws and loving me anyway.

Thank you for having the kind of eyes that let me see directly into your soul. And thank you for having such a beautiful soul in there to see.

Thank you for your unwavering faith in the promise of tomorrow. No matter what the situation, you always know with all your heart that things will be okay in the end. In my darkest hours, your beautiful light of hope is the only thing that keeps me going.

Thank you for your laughter. It's one of the most beautiful sounds in the universe to me.

Thank you for your trust. You've trusted me with your heart, with your love, with your life. I won't let you down.

Thank you for always knowing what I'm thinking, sometimes even before I know I'm thinking it.

Thank you for being patient with me when I have my "less than perfect" moments.

Thank you for your love of music. When you sit at the piano playing Mozart, I can feel the music in your soul as it wraps itself around my heart.

Thank you for letting me be me.

Thank you for standing beside me and supporting me. Even when I'm wrong, thank you for letting me make my own mistakes, for catching me when I fall, and for never saying "I told you so."

Thank you for believing in the power of love. And for teaching me to believe in it too.

Thank you for understanding that Jill was, and is, and will always be, a part of my life. And for trusting me enough to allow our friendship to flourish and strengthen and grow. And thank you for opening your heart to her when she needed us more than anything.

Thank you for always knowing when I need a hug. Or a kick in the ass.

Thank you for bringing out the best in me.

Thank you for helping me fix the worst in me.

Thank you for your faith - In God, in angels, in me, in the universe - your faith is strong enough for both us, for now, and I need that more than you know.

Thank you for helping me remember who I am, and who I was, and who I want to be. And for always pointing me back in the right direction when I get lost.

Thank you for understanding that even the strong need to be weak sometimes, and for letting me cry when I need to.

Thank you for teaching me about love, and life, and dreams that come true.

Thank you for helping me grow into the man I always wanted to be.

Thank you for being the last face I see before I go to sleep at night.

Thank you for giving me a reason to wake up in the morning.

Thank you for being my wife, my love, my partner, my best friend, my life.

I love you with all my heart, Jenny. I always will.

Jeff

Trusting the voices of angels

2011-12-24T23:51:00.126-05:00

In my last post I told you about my dream. In that dream, Jill said "Through Katie, you will understand. Her future will guide you to the answers you need." I didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but the clear message was that I should look to Katie for guidance. I sort of knew that already, but sometimes I need to be whacked over the head with something before I get it. Katie has been my guiding star from the beginning. When Jill died I felt lost, but all I had to do was look at Katie and I always found my way back. I've always admired her unwavering faith in the knowledge that her mother's spirit lives on. Whenever I got stuck, and my mind wouldn't let me see the forest for the trees, I would watch Katie stand by her mother's grave and talk to her as if she was standing right in front of her, and it always brought me great comfort to see her express so much certainty in the unknown. There has never been a single doubt in Katie's mind that her mom is with her always, watching over her, guiding her, and protecting her from harm. Likewise, in the face of Victoria's death, Katie has been steadfast in her belief that Victoria is with Jill now, and that Jill will take care of her until the inevitable day when we all meet again. Her total and unshakable trust in Jill as her guardian angel is inspiring and reassuring, and I've always hoped and prayed that Katie would never outgrow the innocence that allows her to see things with so much certainty.

Tonight, Katie continued the Christmas Eve tradition that her mother started 30 years ago. Click here to read about the tradition and how it started and what it means to us. As Katie stood at the altar and started to sing, the standing-room-only crowd fell silent and listened to her angelic voice fill the church. You've all heard Katie sing, and you know how beautiful and powerful her voice is. Combine that voice with a song like O Holy Night, and add the beautiful acoustics and atmosphere of a church on Christmas Eve, and even the hardest of hearts can't help but be moved to tears by it all. I looked around the church at peoples' faces and watched the tears well up in their eyes as Katie sang the first chorus ("fall on your knees..." - that part gets people every time). It was breathtaking.

At that moment, I noticed a small scrap of paper on the floor at my feet. It looked like a piece of a page cut from a magazine, and what got my attention was that on that scrap of paper, in big white capital letters against a black background, was the word "TRUST." I reached down and picked it up. I looked at it for a moment, astonished, as Jill's words from my dream echoed in my mind - "I know you trust me, you always have, and you have to trust me now. There was no other way."

I showed the scrap of paper to Jenny. Her eyes widened and she gave me a knowing smile, as she took my hand and we listened to Katie sing the rest of O Holy Night with tears running down our faces and chills running up and down our spines. I turned my eyes upwards and gave Jill a little nod to acknowledge that I got her message.

I don't know where that scrap of paper came from, or why I spotted it at that moment while Katie was singing. If it was there all along, why didn't I notice it before then, and what are the odds that I would end up sitting in the exact spot where I would find it at my feet at that moment? Of course it's possible that it was placed there on purpose by someone who wanted me to find it - I was surrounded by friends and family who love me, and who read my blog, and who know that something like that would surely get my attention after what I wrote about my dream...but still, how could someone place it at my feet, making sure it was face up so I would see it, without me noticing? And even if they did, what are the odds that I would discover it there right at that moment while Katie, my guiding star, was singing the breathtaking chorus of O Holy Night (which, by the way, includes the words "hear the angels' voices...")?

Maybe I need to stop listening to my brain, and trust in the angels who seem to be gently and patiently guiding my heart in the right direction.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Some things are meant to be...?

2011-12-20T14:31:00.003-05:00

Last night I had another one of those almost "too real" dreams - the kind where everything seems real to the point where you "know" it was more than just a dream, even though all logic and reason tell you that dreams are just dreams.

Remember this post? I was there again. I don't remember how I got there this time, I just remember being there. It was beautiful, and I was surrounded by vivid colors and beauty beyond all imagination. Jill was there. She had that same glow about her, an almost luminous, angelic quality. I asked her why she brought me to this place again.

With a knowing look in her eyes, she replied, "Because you need to see," and she motioned toward the window. It was the same window I wrote about in the post linked above. As I looked through the window an image of Victoria materialized. She was sitting in a circle with a group of other children around the same age. They were all laughing and appeared to be playing some kind of game.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"She's home," Jill replied. "Because she died in her sleep, she doesn't know yet. She's still dreaming, and she's constructed a world that looks just like home to her. She'll stay there until she's ready."

I paused a moment to process what she had said. It was clear to me that Jill knew things I didn't, so I started to ask her the question that's been on my mind more than any other. But before I could get the words out, she knew what I was going to ask.

"Why did--"

"There was no other way," Jill replied before I could finish. Her eyes were filled with compassion, and she clearly had an understanding of things far beyond what I could comprehend. "I know you can't understand that now, and I can't explain it, but you have to trust me. There was no other way."

I shook my head. She knew I wasn't satisfied with that answer. Then she looked directly into my eyes and said, "Jeff, it's me. I know you trust me, you always have, and you have to trust me now. There was no other way. Through Katie, you will understand. Her future will guide you to the answers you need."

I didn't know what she meant by that. She could tell I was confused, but she seemed unable to explain further.

"Trust," she said. "Don't fight it. Some things are meant to be."

And with that, the magical place dissolved around me and I woke up.

I remember it all so clearly. The conversation above is word-for-word as I remember it. It's strange to remember a dream so vividly, and to have such a coherent picture throughout all of it. Most dreams are more abstract, and any dialog that takes place is usually jumbled and disjointed. This was different. It felt so real; it felt like I was there; the face I saw was Jill - not a memory of her, not a vague representation of her - it was Jill.

"Through Katie, you will understand. Her future will guide you to the answers you need." What did she mean by that? What does Katie have to do with any of this? In some ways that thought terrifies me a little bit. But at the same time, I realize that Katie has been my guiding light all along, and I've always felt that she was somehow a part of the connection I still seem to have with Jill.

I do trust Jill, and I always have. She always knew me better than I knew myself, and she always had a way of making me see when I was blinded by logic and reason. And she never gave me the answers, she would always just gently nudge me in the right direction until I found the answers on my own. This feels so much like the Jill I knew - the way she spoke, the way she looked, the way she tried to make me "see" when my mind refused to accept what was in front of me...it felt so real.

Was it just a dream? My science-geek brain still insists that it was. But my heart? My heart so desperately wants to believe it was more than that.

Grief is...

2011-12-14T07:47:00.007-05:00

A friend sent me this yesterday. It's hard to define exactly what grief is, but I think this is a pretty accurate depiction of it. Grief is many different things to many different people. And sometimes grief just..."is".

The original author is unknown, and I've added a few of my own sprinkled throughout. Use the comments to add yours.

Grief is...

Grief is more than just a constellation of feelings in response to a loss.

Grief changes form and eludes definition.

Grief is timeless and unpredictable.

Grief is physical. It sits on your chest, punches you in the gut, squeezes your throat, winds everything up breaking-point tight, and sucks the energy out of you.

Grief is holding your breath, or breathing fast and shallow like a scared rabbit.

Grief is exhaustion that cannot sleep, hunger that cannot eat, and tears that will not dry.

Grief is feeling weak and hollow and broken.

Grief is kneeling on the ground at her grave, crying and screaming and wishing and pleading with God to undo what you know can't be undone.

Grief is as universal as it is personal.

Grief is clenching your teeth until you have a headache that will not go away.

Grief is a field of fog and distance where we wander lost and aimless.

Grief is a calm sullen silence, a vacuum into which we withdraw.

Grief is forgetting for a moment, and then remembering again that your loved one is really gone.

Grief is feeling shattered, broken, destroyed, and knowing that the world you once knew will never be again.

Grief is not being able to think about anything else.

Grief is dreaming about your loved one.

Grief is feeling their presence, seeing their face, hearing their voice - or being frustrated because we cannot.

Grief is a protest, a temper tantrum, a refusal to give up without a fight over something that is already gone.

Grief is an intense negotiation over events that have already happened, a barrage of what-if's and if-only's.

Grief is a hope turned backwards in time.

Grief is yelling at the beautiful sunset because it means time is moving on without them.

Grief is retracing steps, and wishing and wondering how things might have been different "if only..."

Grief is feeling guilty because we could not stop death, could not revert death, and cannot change death.

Grief is knowing we do not deserve to be alive any more than our loved one deserves to be dead. Grief is wondering why fate chose them and not us.

Grief is feeling guilty for moving on, guilty for living, and guilty for enjoying life without them.

Grief is a sigh - a reluctant surrender to powers greater than ours.

Grief is unanswered prayers, and feelings of betrayal and abandonment.

Grief is pleading with God to bring them back and take you instead.

Grief is asking why and knowing that there is no answer.

Grief is a radical depletion of will and inspiration.

Grief is throwing your hands up into the air and collapsing onto the floor in despair.

Grief is an inventory of what has been lost.

Grief is a dim spotlight that illuminates the void where a life once was.

Grief is a fear that life is all there is and it is not enough.

Grief is unabashedly wailing and falling to the ground and drowning in your own tears.

Grief is fear of living with the loss and losing more.

Grief is clinging to what we love as if every goodbye is the last.

Grief is choosing to endure loneliness and despair over facing the fear of further loss.

Grief is coming to terms with the fact that we will all die someday whether we share life or experience it alone.

Grief is a solemn vow to fulfill their wishes.

Grief is seeing a rainbow and knowing that there's more to it than science can explain.

Grief is panning through memories over and over searching for jewels.

Grief is saying thank you.

Grief is saying I'm sorry.

Grief is a confession of regrets.

Grief is guilt over unsaid words and unexpressed feelings.

Grief is a moment frozen in time - a child's bedroom that will never be cleaned, a shirt that will never be washed, or a message on the answering machine that will never be erased.

Grief is avoiding the reminders and trying to forget.

Grief is clinging to the reminders and trying not to forget.

Grief is recalling special moments and crying.

Grief is learning to remember the special moments and smiling instead of crying.

Grief is being inspired to carry out the acts of beauty and kindness that your loved one is no longer here to deliver.

Grief is wondering where your loved one really is and if they can see you, hear you, or read your mind.

Grief is talking to them just in case they can hear you.

Grief is hearing that special song on the radio and knowing your loved one is with you.

Grief is seeing something beautiful and amazing, and wishing your loved one was there to share it with you.

Grief is sitting on your bed crying in the middle of the night, saying "God I miss you so much, please give me a sign", and then hearing a bird singing outside your window and knowing they are with you.

Grief is discovering pieces of what was lost in places you do not expect.

Grief is looking at a sunrise and knowing it is more beautiful because your loved one is a part of it, and part of a creation that is beyond the scope of your understanding.

Grief is grasping opportunities that you might have otherwise left for tomorrow because you are ever mindful now that there may be no tomorrow.

Grief is being able to distinguish better what is really important and meaningful after all is said and done, and choosing to do more of it.

Grief is the yearning, the reaching, and the love that hides behind our losses.

Grief is a tribute to the depth of our love.

Grief is the reluctant acknowledgement that the love we shared with someone was totally worth the pain of losing them.

Sorrow

2011-12-09T08:41:00.005-05:00

It's been four weeks now. Four weeks ago today, my sister-in-law went into her daughter's room to wake her up for school, and what she found there changed all of our lives forever. She made a frantic call to 911. Then to my brother, who had already left for work without knowing what was waiting behind that bedroom door. Dave was already on the train to Boston, and it would be hours before he could get home, so she called me. I'll never forget the sound of her voice when I answered the phone that morning. The shock and disbelief hit me like a freight train when she said the words, "Victoria is dead."

The first week was a blur. We were all still in shock, and I did my best to hold the family together and help with the funeral arrangements. It gave me a sense of purpose to be there for Dave and Laura, and it helped me keep my mind focused on getting things done, instead of feeling the pain of this tremendous loss. But the second week? As anybody who's lost someone close will tell you, the week after the funeral is often the hardest. For the first week, shock creates a kind of numbness that dulls the pain somewhat, and the funeral planning keeps your mind busy, and you're surrounded by supportive friends who love you. But once the funeral is over, people go back to their everyday lives, and the family is left to grieve on their own. That's when the reality sets in and you start to think about all the ways it hurts, and you finally begin to comprehend the enormity of the loss, and the implications of a future without her.

Everything feels wrong and out of place. I walk down the street and see people talking and laughing and shopping and walking their dogs and doing normal, everyday things, and I think to myself, "What's wrong with you people? Don't you realize the world just ended?" And then I catch myself thinking that, and I remind myself that my little family isn't the center of the universe, and that the world keeps on turning regardless of what's happening in my life. For the first week, every thought, every word, every moment of my life was spent thinking about Victoria and the loss that Dave and Laura and all of us were living through. And now I'm back out in the real world again and I have to think about other things and interact with people who don't know anything about what happened, and I have to do normal, everyday things like buying food and paying bills, and I have to stand in front of a classroom and teach and pretend that everything is okay, when every single cell in my brain is screaming "EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY!" And then at the end of the day I shout at the beautiful sunset because it means another day has gone by, and time is moving on without her.

But I do what I have to do. I go to work, I do my job, I make time for my students, and I do the things that have to be done. I smile when I'm supposed to, and I even catch myself laughing once in a while. And then I remember, and I feel guilty for having a moment of happiness, and my mind goes right back to that phone call I received on that awful morning. Up until that moment, I was happy and laughing and care-free. And then the phone rang and everything changed in an instant.

I took my brother rock climbing last Saturday. He was going back to work on Monday and he needed to spend some time out of the house first, doing something to clear his mind before he had to face reality again. He and I used to go rock climbing a lot together when we were younger, and we've always found it to be one of the best ways to clear our minds. So we spent the afternoon climbing up the face of Cragg's Ravine, and when we reached the top we sat on the ledge and looked out over the beautiful scenery below. And we cursed at it for being so beautiful, and we asked each other how such a beautiful world could be filled with so much pain and misery. And we talked man-to-man and brother-to-brother about what happened and where we go from here. Two brothers doing what brothers do. Family is everything at a time like this. He thanked me for being there and for letting him lean on me - but I don't think he realized that holding him up was the only thing keeping me from sinking. I needed him just as much as he needed me.

As for my little corner of the family, we're doing okay, mostly. I have Jenny, and she is wonderful and supportive and amazing. She's been holding everyone together and taking care of things at home while I've been out helping Dave and Laura, and she's been checking in on my mom (who lives alone) every day to make sure she's okay. The girls are handling it as well as can be expected. Christina is too young to really understand what happened, and she keeps asking when we'll see Victoria again. Laura is holding herself together on the outside, but I know that she's just trying to be strong for the rest of us. She's a lot like me that way, I guess. And Katie...two years ago when her best friend was dying of cancer, she asked me "why does everyone I love keep dying?" I didn't know how to answer that question then, and I still don't. She's a little older now, and she understands that there is no answer to "why", so this time she phrased it this way instead: "Everyone I love keeps dying. How am I supposed to feel about that?" I didn't have an answer for that one either. I think this has affected Katie more than any of us. Far too much grief and loss in her young life.

It doesn't feel like Christmas time. We haven't even put the decorations up yet. I keep thinking about Dave and Laura, and that empty stocking that will be hanging above their fireplace on Christmas morning. Christmas will never be the same for them. It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit with that on your mind. We'll put the decorations up and go through the motions, but it still won't feel like Christmas. Not this year, anyway. For Dave and Laura, maybe not ever.

The nightmares have started again. I have this recurring dream, which I wrote about here a few years ago, where my girls are being pursued by some kind of unseen danger and my feet are stuck in the ground so I can't move to warn them or save them. It always starts out the same way, and it always ends with me waking up screaming in terror. It's that primal fear, the realization of all the things I can't protect them from, manifesting itself in a dream. And then I go back to sleep and it happens all over again. And I hate it.

And speaking of dreams, my mind keeps going back to a dream I had a few weeks before Victoria died. In that dream I saw Jill, and she was sitting on the ground under a tree, and she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she just shook her head, with tears streaming down her face, and turned away. That's all I remember of the dream, but it leaves me wondering. It was probably just a random dream, as most dreams are, but I can't help thinking...what if it wasn't just a dream? Did she know what was coming? Did she want to warn me but for some reason she couldn't? I didn't think anything of it at the time because I had no context and no idea what it was about. But when Victoria died a few weeks later, I remembered that dream and it shook me to the core.

I hate this. I hate that Victoria died. I hate that my brother and sister-in-law are broken. I hate that my girls are sad. I hate that I'm sad. I hate the fear of things I can't control or protect them from.

And I miss the little girl who always greeted me with a perky smile and a warm hug every time I saw her. I miss her so much.

Giving Thanks...

2011-11-24T08:21:00.003-05:00

Not much to be thankful for in our little corner of the world right now, but I just wanted to say thank you to all who have offered support and comfort at this dark and difficult time for my family.

Good friends are hard to find, and I've found some of the best. Thank you all for being there; thank you for giving me the strength I need to help Dave and Laura find their way through this; thank you for the kind thoughts, caring words, and even the prayers. It means the world to me just to know that so many people care.

We will get through this. One day at a time.

Love to all of you, from all of us. Happy Thanksgiving.

No Words

2011-11-18T08:40:00.016-05:00

In the last five years, I've been to the funerals of an 8-year old, a 10-year old, a 3-year old, a 17-year old, a 15-year old, a 6-month old, a 33-year old, and a 35-year old.

When you go to a funeral for an elderly person, people say things like, "It was his time" or "She lived a good life".

When you go to a funeral for someone who has been sick and suffering terribly, people say things like "At least she's not suffering anymore," or "She's in a better place now".

None of those words really help, but people say them anyway.

But when you go to a funeral for a beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, spirited, innocent little girl who was full of life and should have had her whole life ahead of her, there are just no words. Peoples' faces look stunned, and their eyes reveal a mixture of shock and bewilderment. The despair in the eyes of the grieving parents is palpable and overwhelming. The casket is so small it doesn't look real, until you look inside and see the once beautiful face of the little girl who came into your life just eight years ago, and then the reality hits you like a freight train. No one knows what to say, so they don't say anything. Or worse, they say something stupid like "Everything happens for a reason," or "It's all part of God's plan," or "Life will go on." When people say that, it makes me want to punch them. God's plan? What kind of a sick, twisted god would plan for a perfectly healthy 8-year old girl to die in her sleep? Everything happens for a reason? Bullshit. There is no reason to give someone life and then take it away before they've had a chance to live it. Life will go on? Not for Victoria, it won't. And not for her mother and father, or for her baby brother. Their world ended last Friday morning when they found her. They'll go on, but they'll be dead inside. Time can never heal a wound like this, nor can it ever erase the horrifying memory of finding her in her bed that morning.

I'm having a very hard time with this, folks. Victoria was my niece, and I loved her dearly, but it's not just about that. Of course I'll miss her, and my heart breaks for all the things she never got to experience, and for Dave and Laura, whose lives are forever changed by this tragic turn of events. But it's not about that either. It's about the accumulation of all the tragic deaths that I've witnessed and lived through in recent years. Eight funerals in five years, and six of them were children. It's just too much to bear. Young people shouldn't die. It's that simple. Young people SHOULD. NOT. DIE.

But they do. Random shit happens and young people die every day, and there's no reason for it, and there's no "God's Plan", and it destroys peoples' lives forever, and there's not a fucking thing anybody can do to prevent it. Victoria died from a pulmonary embolism, a blood clot that formed in her leg and traveled to her heart. They tell us the clot was probably caused by the position she was sleeping in, and if she had just rolled over a little sooner in her sleep it might not have happened. Just a stupid, random accident of nature that could happen to anybody at any time. I would give my life to protect my children, and this is yet another reminder that there are things I can't protect them from, random things that just happen for no reason - and that scares the living shit out of me.

Hey God (if there is a God)? Are you listening? Do you want me to believe you're real and compassionate and loving and all-powerful, and that you care about each and every one of us as your children? Then show me. Because I don't believe you anymore. She didn't deserve this. SHE DIDN'T FUCKING DESERVE THIS.

Long time readers know I've been struggling with my faith for some time. I'm done struggling with it now. It's gone, and I don't want it back. I've seen too many bad things happen to too many good people, and I don't want to believe anymore in a god who has the power to stop it but chooses not to.

Family tragedy

2011-11-14T11:45:00.005-05:00

I ask you all to keep my brother Dave and his wife Laura in your thoughts and prayers as we mourn with them over the sudden death of their 8-year old daughter, Victoria on Thursday night.

Hug your children today and tell them how much you love them, because everything can change in an instant.

Speechless and heartbroken.

Jeff

Passion...

2011-11-08T12:32:00.010-05:00

From the time I started this blog, one of its main purposes has been for me to use it as a place to write about whatever's on my mind. This is where I write about my thoughts and sort them out and try to make sense of them. Writing forces me to organize my thoughts into coherent sentences, which makes it easier for me to make sense of the jumbled mess in my brain.

This is going to be one of those "inside my head" posts where I write about what's on my mind and let you all come along for the ride while I sort things out. But be warned, my brain is a very weird place to be sometimes.

In the end, as you'll see, I think my mind has already been made up for me, so what's going on inside my brain doesn't really matter much anyway. So this isn't so much of a "help me decide what to do" post, as a "here's where I am, and here's the thought process that got me here" kind of post.

...

I mentioned in my last post that I was thinking about Katie's acting/singing career. I was torn between holding her back, and letting her fly and seeing how high she can go. Her agent believes that her time is now. To be as good as she is at her age makes her unique and puts her one step ahead of the competition when it comes to auditions. There aren't many 12-year olds who can sing like her. Most directors cringe at the thought of having to cast a 12-year old in a show because good talent at that age is so hard to find. And then Katie walks into an audition and blows the doors off the theater, and they are astounded (like the "Holy shit" response to her Wizard of Oz audition, for example). She stands out above every other actress she auditions against, and she's developed a wonderful rapport with all of the directors she's worked with. Every one of them has said they will cast her again in a heartbeat when the right role comes up. And directors talk to each other, and sometimes she goes into an audition where the director has already heard about her and knows what to expect, and has probably already made up their mind before she even sings a note. And a reputation like that is priceless in this business. She's not just really good "for a 12-year old", she's really good. Period.

And I can't hold her back from that. She's good enough to perform with the best of the best, in the biggest productions, on the biggest stages anywhere. I can't tell her to sit on the sidelines and wait until she's older, when every director who sees her wants her in their show NOW. I believe Broadway will be beating a path to her door when she's ready, and if she maintains the connections and the reputation she's already established in the local and regional theaters, and grows her network over time, then the path will be that much clearer when this becomes her lifetime career.

But it scares the hell out of me to think of where all this could lead. You hear so many stories about young people who make it big and then implode from the pressure that comes with fame and fortune. I've even met a few of them. Katie worked with an actor last summer who was once a big star at the age of 12. He did Broadway theater, television, movies, and made tons of money at it. Then he turned 18 and went wild. Blew all his money, destroyed his career, spent some time in jail, and now he does small local and regional theater on the side, while working as a waiter to pay the bills. It's all too easy for that to happen - too much money, not enough maturity and family support to handle it. Of course I want to think that could never happen to Katie - she's much too smart for that, and we would be right behind her all the way, making sure she doesn't go down the wrong road. I want to believe that. But it still scares the hell out of me.

And then there's the loss of so much of her childhood. She already lost so much of it in her early years, drowning in grief over the death of her mom and dad. And now that she's finally landed with both feet on the ground, she doesn't have time to be a kid. When she's in a show, she goes straight from school to the theater every day, does her homework and studying between scenes when she has time, gets home late at night, and then does it all again the next day. She doesn't have much free time to just hang out with friends and be a regular 12-year old girl. And that makes me a little sad, not to mention a little worried.

And of course I'd be lying if I said it was for completely unselfish reasons that I'm afraid. Having a child actress in the family is hard work. As a paid actress under 18, state law requires her to have a parent or guardian in the building at all times during rehearsals and performances, which means we can't just drop her off at the theater and pick her up afterwards. One of us has to stay there for the entire 8 or 10 hours of rehearsals, every day for weeks at a time, and sit through every performance six nights a week and twice on Sundays. The trips to New York for her current gig have been exhausting, and if her upcoming West coast audition leads where it could, it would mean a semi-permanent move to California for all of us. And even if this one doesn't work out, maybe the next one will, or the next one. And that scares the hell out of me too. This is our home, and I thought it always would be.

So those are the thoughts that have been swimming around in my head. They still are, but I already know there's no stopping her now. I can't hold her back from where she belongs.

That realization came when I remembered a song Katie sang at the New England music festival last summer. It was a duet she sang with her friend Stephanie, who is a wildly talented 14-year old. The song is called "Flight." It's all about spreading your wings and going out into the world and taking chances and making your life what you want it to be; the freedom to soar on the wind and land wherever it takes you. When I pulled out the video and listened to it again, I knew I couldn't hold her back. No matter how good you are, you can't sing with this much passion unless the passion is real and the words move your soul. And these words move her soul. I've posted the video below, so you can hear what I'm talking about. Katie is a damn good actress, but she isn't acting here - this is real emotion, and real passion. She feels every word of this song in the deepest depths of her soul.

Which brings me back to the title of this post: passion. I've always believed that everyone should be passionate about something - no matter what it is. And you have to follow your passion wherever it leads, because you'll never be truly happy if you don't. In hearing this song, and the passion in her voice, it's clear that the life she wants can't be found here in a tiny town in a remote corner of New Hampshire - the life she wants is out there somewhere. This isn't just a childhood fantasy for her, or a passing phase that occupies her time until something else comes along that interests her - this is everything she's ever dreamed about or hoped for. I can't hold her back if she wants to reach for that dream. This is her passion, and she has to follow it - wherever it leads. And that's why we're going to California next week for the biggest audition of her life - to see where it leads. I promised her mother before she died that I would always do everything in my power to make sure Katie has everything she needs to make her dreams come true. And this is her dream.

This is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful songs ever written. And their voices blend so well together that it's hard sometimes to tell which girl is singing which part, as the melody shifts between them and they trade off harmonies one to the next. Katie and Stephanie met when they were performing together in Annie, and they've been the best of friends ever since. I think their friendship shows here in the way their voices play off one another and blend through the beautiful harmonies. You really have to know and respect your partner's strengths to be able to blend like that. I really want to get the two of them together sometime and record this song in the studio, because I think they do an amazing job with it.

Okay, I'll shut up now and let you hear them (Katie is the one on the left, closest to the piano player)...

Flight

Performed by Katie Gaines and Stephanie Navarro
Not for profit or redistribution
All rights retained by original copyright holder

Flight
------

Let me run through a field in the night
Let me lift from the ground 'til my soul is in flight.

Let me sway like the shade of a tree
Let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea.
Wish me on my way

Through the dawning day I,
Wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill
Wanna grow in a grove
On the side of a hill.

I don't care if the train runs late,
If the checks don't clear,
If the house blows down.

I'll be off where the weeds run wild
Where the seeds fall far from this
Earthbound town.

And I'll start to soar!
Watch me rain til I pour out!
I'll catch a ship that will sail me astray
Get caught in a wind and I'll just have to obey
Til I ride away (Harmony: Time! Flight! Flight!)
Ah
Ah
Away...

Let me leave behind
All the clouds in my mind I
Wanna wake without wondering why
Finding myself in a burst for the sky!
(Harmony: Flight! Flight!)

I'll just roll
Let me lose all control I
Wanna float like a wish in a well
Free as the sound of the sea in a shell

I don't know
But maybe I'm just a fool
I should keep to the ground
I should stay where I'm at
Maybe everyone has hunger like this
And the hunger will pass
But I can't think like that

All I know is that somewhere in a clearing (harmony: somewhere)
There's a flickering of sunlight on a river long and wide
And I have such a river inside!

Let me run through a field in the night!
Let me lift from the ground til my soul is in flight!
Let me sway like the shade of a tree!
Let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea!
Wish me on my way! (harmony: wish me on my way)
Through the dawning day I
Wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill
Wanna grow on the side of a hill

Wanna shift from the wave that I'm on
Wanna drift from the path
I've been traveling upon
Before I am gone.

Random Stuff...

2011-10-25T14:51:00.004-04:00

My blog has been pretty quiet lately. I've been busy with a lot of things, and haven't had any time to write. Plus there's some unbloggable stuff going on at school right now that has kept me busy and my mind preoccupied. Sorry I can't give any details on that, but I can't. But a big giant hug and "Thank You" goes out to one of my readers (and she knows who she is) for her amazing help with that situation. I wish I could say more about what she did, but I can't reveal anything about it here. Sorry.

...

Jenny took Katie to New York over the weekend for the start of filming for her Sesame Street gig. Katie got to meet the other cast members and the puppeteers behind the characters that make Sesame street what it is, and she recorded the vocal tracks for one of the songs she'll be singing on the video. Of course it was a huge thrill for her to meet the folks who make the magic happen, and she can't wait to go back again for the next session. I haven't heard the vocal recording yet, but I'm sure it's amazing. I've been listening to her practice it at home for the last several weeks, and she brings me to tears every time.

...

But Jenny sure picked the wrong weekend to be in New York. I was going to go, but I needed to stay here to help sort out the unbloggable stuff I mentioned above, so Jenny went instead. Laura was at a sleepover party at her friend's house on Saturday night. Now, before I continue, let me remind you that Laura is 12 years old. And she's a girl. I'll let you ponder those two facts for a minute and figure out what that means, rather than just blurt it out here. Since the majority of my readers were 12-year old girls once, I'm sure most of you can figure it out...

...Okay, all caught up? Yeah, that. So Laura calls me from her friend's house at around midnight:

Laura: Uh...Dad? I need to talk to Mom.

Me: Mom isn't here, she's in New York, remember? What's wrong, is everything okay?

Laura: Ummmm...yeah...well...you know that...uhhhh...thing Mom said was going to happen for the first time "any day now..."?

Me: Uh oh.

This is the kind of thing a girl really needs her mom for. There's absolutely nothing Dad can say that will help in that situation. Trust me on this. Fortunately, Jenny did a great job of preparing her for it, so she knew what to do. She just didn't have the requisite...uh...supplies.

Anyway, all is well now. Jenny's home, so I can go back to pretending I don't know anything about that stuff, and planning my escape route for those times when both girls are on the same schedule...

And practicing my overprotective Dad stare for every time a boy looks in their general direction.

...

Katie has a huge audition coming up in mid-November. She doesn't want me to give out any details about this one yet, because she doesn't want anyone to be disappointed if she doesn't get the part. Even the extended family doesn't know what this is about yet, and we're keeping them all in the dark until we know if it's going to lead anywhere. All I can say for now is that the audition is on the West coast, and it's for a big BIG part in a big BIG production. So wish her luck, even though you don't know what it's for yet. Sorry for being so vague.

I just noticed this whole post is full of vague references with no details about anything. Sorry about that.

...

So just to add one more bit of vagueness, I had a long conversation with Katie's agent last night. I'm going to write more about this in an upcoming post, but just to give you an idea of what we talked about: I'm concerned that she's pushing Katie too hard. I know that her job is to get Katie in front of as many directors as possible, and she makes money when Katie makes money, so she has plenty of incentive for pushing her...but Katie is still just a girl. She loves performing, and this is what she wants to do with her life, but right now she needs to have time to be a kid too. My philosophy has always been that the Big Stage will still be there for Katie when she's grown up, so just have some fun now and get some experience on small stages here and there and enjoy what's left of her childhood; on the other hand, her agent feels that Katie's time is NOW, because her talent at her age is what makes her unique and separates her from all the other performers out there. 25-year olds who can sing and act and dance are a dime a dozen, but 12-year olds with this kind of talent are rare and unique, and she believes Katie needs to be discovered NOW, while she has the advantage of being one in a billion. And I can see her point. But is it worth giving up a childhood she so needs and deserves, just to chase after that dream? I'm torn between holding her back so she can enjoy the childhood she'll only have once, and letting her shine so she can see how far she can go.

Anyway, more on that in an upcoming post, when I'll let you inside my head while I sort through it all and figure out what's best.

That's all for now.

The rose bush

2011-10-11T08:43:00.012-04:00

I'm sure I've mentioned here before how much Jill loved roses. Pink and yellow ones were her favorites. She had rose bushes growing in her yard and she took meticulous care of them, and she loved those rose bushes like they were her children. I have many fond memories of stopping by her house and finding her in her rose garden, all covered from head to toe in dirt and sweat, with a look of total contentment on her face. That rose garden was her solace - her happy place. It was where she went when she needed to be alone, to think, to find peace. Her rose bushes were beautiful, and produced the most vibrant and colorful roses I've ever known.

When Jill died and we put her house on the market, it made me sad to think of leaving her rose bushes there to be cared for by someone else. No one could ever care for them the way Jill did. They would be attacked by weeds and insects. They wouldn't be watered and fed with the kind of care she gave them, if at all. They would be neglected, and maybe even destroyed if the new owners didn't want them. So before we sold her house, I dug one of them up and brought it to our house and planted it in our back yard in Jill's memory. Our yard isn't an ideal location for rose bushes - we're high up in the mountains and the winters up here can be brutal. We're surrounded by trees, so there isn't enough direct sunlight to keep rose bushes happy, and our soil is very acidic. I knew the bush wouldn't thrive here, but I brought one here anyway. Jill had poured her heart and soul into her roses, and keeping this one bush was like having a little piece of her growing in our yard. It gave me comfort at a time when I needed it.

Unfortunately, I'm not a very good gardener, and rose bushes take a LOT of work to maintain properly. The bush survived its first winter here, but it didn't look very healthy by spring. I watered it, weeded it, fed it, and sprayed it with insect repellent, but it kept getting sicker. I sought advice from professional rose growers and did everything they said, but before long it was clear - Jill's rose bush was dying. One of the professionals diagnosed it with a disease of the roots (can't remember the name right now) which was incurable and terminal.

And then she suggested something: before it's too late, cut a piece off of the bush and put it in water until it forms its own roots, and then plant it in a pot. Because the disease was in the roots, the new piece would free itself from the disease by growing its own set of roots. Plus, being in a pot means I can move the pot to wherever it will get the most sunlight, and I can even bring it inside in the winter. Knowing how much sentimntal value this bush held for me, she said, "It might not be the same as having the original plant, but it will be like caring for its child."

And those words hit me like a lightning bolt.

Jill died of an incurable disease and left her child in my care. And then her rose bush followed the same path. What beautiful symmetry. The symbolism and parallels with Katie's life were striking. The rose bush would live on through its child; and the child would survive and build new roots and grow and blossom and thrive. Just like Katie.

So the piece that I planted now lives in a pot. In the spring I take the pot to the cemetary and place it next to Jill's grave, where it gets plenty of sunlight. And in the winter, I bring it home and sit it on the window sill in our kitchen. I just brought it home again yesterday and it's sitting on the window sill now looking healthy and beautiful. It's been 4 years now, and it has thrived. Just like Katie. Another little piece of Jill lives on.

I'll never forget

So long, Steve...

2011-10-06T10:46:00.002-04:00

Steve Jobs was the commencement speaker at Stanford University in 2005. I wasn't there, but I saw the video of his speech a few years later when I went looking for ideas for a commencement speech I was about to give. I was awe-struck when I heard this speech. Steve had always been one of my heroes, and there are many reasons for that. One of them is that he had this amazing and charismatic speaking style that could drill right into your soul and inspire you unlike anyone else could. And he had a profound insight into how people think, and what motivates them. And vision. The guy could see where the future was, map out a path to get there, and inspire others to come along and be a part of it.

As a teacher, a big part of my job is finding ways to inspire young people to reach for their dreams and do great things. I think I'm pretty good at it most of the time. But Steve? Steve would have made one hell of a great teacher. All of us could learn a lot from the words he spoke that day at Stanford, and young people just starting out in the world should be required to watch this video. Now that he's gone, the message strikes an even deeper chord.

Watch the video - I promise you it's well worth 15 minutes of your time.

My heart goes out to Steve's family and friends, and to all the people whose lives he touched along the way.

Thank you, Steve, for making this world a better place.

Remembering who I am...

2011-09-26T10:56:00.003-04:00

I think I forgot who I am. Things have gotten so overwhelmingly busy lately, between school and work and running the girls all over the place for various activities, I haven't taken the time to do what I need to do. Sometimes I just need to make time to be me - to take a long walk in the woods by myself and find a quiet place to sit and just breathe. I've always been a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, and when I don't have time to do that, my world becomes unmanageable.

So I got up at 4 o'clock this morning, made myself a nice big pot of coffee, and I set out down the trail that leads from our back yard out into the beatiful world of the White Mountain National Forest. It was still dark out, and we're close to a new moon, so I had to bring a lantern for light. I walked about a mile down the trail to my usual thinking spot - an overlook on the side of a cliff, looking down over the river below. It's a beautiful spot, and there's a rock there that's just perfect for sitting on. I sat there and drank my coffee and listened as the sounds gradually transitioned from night bugs to early morning birds. Just as the sun began to peak out from behind the mountain ridge to the east, I spotted a bald eagle soaring high above the valley, against the backdrop of an orange sky reflected in the river below. Nature in all its glory. Batteries recharged. Ready for another day, another week.

I stayed long enough to finish my coffee and reflect again on what's important. I watched the eagle circle the valley a few more times, and I thought about how lucky I am to be here. Right here. Right now. The balance of this world is so delicate, and we have the power to maintain that balance or to destroy it with the choices we make each day. Not just the balance of man vs nature, but our own internal balance too. Too much running, not enough sitting, thinking, reflecting. I can't live that way. For me, balance is everything.

And I feel balanced again. I needed that.

10 Years Ago...

2011-09-11T07:36:00.005-04:00

Osama bin Laden is dead. On this ten year anniversary of the September 11 attacks, there should be some sense of justice in that, but somehow it still feels like a hollow victory. He died without remorse, with the blood of innocent thousands on his hands. Justice? Maybe - if Hell exists, and there's a special room in it reserved just for him, then maybe. But I still find it hard to say we won. And for the victims, whose only crime was being Americans, don't try convincing their families that justice was served the day bin Laden died. It can't bring their loved ones back.

This is a repost, because I can't think of anything else to say. There's a heaviness in my heart today that words just can't express.

Never forget.

---

September 11, 2001

It was one of those moments in history so profound that most people remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they first heard the news.

I was in between classes when I heard someone in the hallway say that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Someone said "I'll bet it was terrorists," and I remember thinking what a sad commentary it was on our society that our minds immediately turn to terrorism whenever we hear of a plane crash on the news. "What a tragic accident," I thought. Then fifteen minutes later, the news came in that a second plane had hit the other tower, quickly erasing any doubts I had about the cause.

Confusion and fear and disbelief filled the air. Rumors and speculation and conflicting news reports spread like wildfire through the hallways. Somebody said they heard that another plane had hit the Pentagon, and a fourth plane was unaccounted for. More conflicting stories surfaced, and there were unsubstantiated rumors about planes falling from the sky all over the country. By mid-morning, the decision was made to cancel classes for the rest of the day, and the students all gathered in the gym to watch the news on television monitors. Some parents came and picked up their kids early and took them home. Others stayed and watched. I remember standing in the back of the gym, leaning against the wall watching the TV images in utter disbelief. I watched in horror as people jumped out of windows on the upper floors of the twin towers, realizing it was the only way they could escape the flames and smoke that would have killed them anyway. Then the first tower collapsed, and I just sat down on the floor and buried my head in my hands as I thought of all the people who were still trapped inside. I looked around at the faces of my students. Some stared at the TV with their mouths open in disbelief. Some were crying. Some were praying. Some watched in stoic silence, while their eyes gave away their thoughts.

Friends tried to comfort one another. A group of girls sat in the corner holding hands and praying together. A group of boys stood together and tried to convince each other that they were cool, but you could see in their faces that they were all just as scared and confused as everybody else. Shortly after the second tower collapsed, a student came over to me with tears in his eyes and said "Mr. D, who would do something like that, and why?" I could only shake my head and say "I don't know." I hate questions that I can't answer. Another student was sitting on the floor a few feet away from me. She was alone and I saw that she was crying. I sat down next to her and put my hand on her shoulder and asked her if she was okay. She told me that her older brother worked on the 32nd floor of the North Tower. I tried to reassure her that he probably got out, but she knew I was just saying that; she knew I didn't know for sure. But I didn't know what else to say, and I had to say something. I gave her my phone so she could call home and see if anyone had heard from him. Awhile later she got a call back saying he was okay. A tiny glimmer of good news on an otherwise horrific day.

I remember driving home that afternoon with my head in a fog, and when I got home I just hugged Jenny and held her for the longest time and promised her that everything would be okay. She needed to hear me say that. I needed to hear me say that too. I'm not sure whether or not either of us believed it, but we both needed to hear me say it. It was the day before Laura's second birthday, and we were both wondering what kind of world lay in store for her.

But in the days and weeks that followed, it became clear that although the terrorists had completed their mission, they had failed to accomplish their broader goal. I drove past houses with American flags flying out front, and flags began appearing on cars, along with "United We Stand" bumper stickers. People were nicer to each other. People who never seemed to care about anything at all suddenly started caring about our nation's future and the freedoms we all take for granted. The resolve in peoples' faces reflected the realization that if we huddled in fear then they would win, and we refused to let them win. Red white and blue started showing up everywhere. American flags hung from overpasses and on the sides of buildings. The entire world, even our sworn enemies, stood behind us. Heroic stories began to emerge about the brave men and women of the NYPD and FDNY who rushed into the buildings while everyone else was rushing out; the passengers of flight 93 who were credited with stopping that plane short of its target; and the first responders at the Pentagon who pulled survivors out of the rubble and saved the lives of as many as they could. True American heroes, all of them.

And I realized that the terrorists' attempt to break our nation and bring us down had only united us under our flag, and made us stronger.

Then the politicians and lawyers got involved, and the finger pointing started, and...well, let's just leave it at that.

For all those who died that day, may they never be forgotten. For all those who lost someone that day, may they find peace in their hearts and comfort in their memories. And for all of us who remember the horrific events of that day, may we always stand united as one nation, defiant to those who seek to destroy us, and may we never forget what the stars and stripes of our flag represent.

United we stand.

September 11, 2001
We will never forget.

"We want Katie"

2011-09-02T10:43:00.008-04:00

Katie's agent called today. She's a wonderful lady, but she makes me crazy sometimes.

"I just got off the phone with the Sesame Street people," she said, her tone of voice not revealing anything.

"And....?" I replied, probably more impatiently than I intended.

"Well, his exact words were...ummm..." (pause, sound of papers shuffling in the background; me reaching through the phone to strangle her for torturing me)

"His exact words were... 'We want Katie'", she finally replied.

No callback audition, no followup interview. The contract is in the mail.

One of the things I love about Katie's agent is that she always presses for feedback after auditions, and always passes it on to us. That has been extremely helpful in letting us know what she's doing right, and more importantly what she needs to improve on.

"They said they were intrigued after reading her bio and hearing her screening cd," (that's the song I posted here yesterday). "They said they were extremely interested after hearing her live audition and readings from the script." Then she paused and took a deep breath.

"Jeff, I'm a talent agent," she said. "My job is, essentially, to sell talent. And Katie's talent pretty much sells itself, you and I both know that, which makes my job really easy. But it wasn't just her talent that got her this job, it was her personality. They said when they interviewed her they were captivated by her disarming smile, and the way she expressed herself with such confidence and grace. When she talked about her own experience with loss, her voice, eyes, body language, facial expression, everything about her exuded an overwhelming sense of...of hope. A kind of confidence in her own ability to endure, and a hope that other children going through the same kind of thing can and will endure too. This is a difficult subject to approach with children, and they wanted someone in this role who has that kind of confidence. They said Katie's ability to empathize, and her simple way of expressing herself, especially to the younger audience this project is aimed at, is exactly what they were looking for. In short, they don't want an actress to play this part, they want Katie. As herself."

It took me a few seconds to process what she said. Wow. I've always known that about Katie. I've always felt that she had such a simple and down-to-earth perspective on life and death and loss, and such an endearing way of expressing it. But I know her so well that it's hard to tell if other people can see that or not. And wow, to be told not only that other people can see it, but that it comes through with such striking clarity? Wow. "They don't want an actress to play this part, they want Katie. As herself." It doesn't get much clearer than that.

Filming begins the last week of October. I don't have all the details yet, but they're going to try to do most of the filming in sessions of a few days each, spaced apart by a several weeks so she won't have to miss too much school, and she'll have time to catch up in between. They're also paying for our travel expenses and will put us up in a hotel during the filming sessions. Which is good, because...wow, have you ever looked at the cost of hotels in New York City?

And so begins another exciting chapter in Katie's life. She is thrilled with this, not only because she'll get to meet and perform with the amazing characters she watched and looked up to as a child, but because she'll be a part of something that will offer hope and inspiration and guidance to young children traveling the same journey she traveled at their age. Healing herself by helping others heal - there are just no words to express how huge that is for her.

While we wait...

2011-09-01T08:03:00.007-04:00

No word yet on the Sesame Street gig. Still waiting.

While we wait, here's the first official recording to come out of our new recording studio. It's one of Katie's favorite songs, and it makes me cry every time I hear her sing it.

This song helped her so much when she was in grief counseling. She was keeping everything bottled up inside, until her counselor played this song for her. She cried like never before, which was difficult to watch, but it was so necessary. Once she got all those feelings out, she was ready to start healing, and I think that was a turning point for her. I also think it was how she discovered music as a form of therapy, which has been an integral part of her growth and healing process ever since.

She sent a copy of this recording for her pre-audition screening for the Sesame Street gig, and they liked her enough to bring her in for a live audition. I think it turned out pretty good.

Btw, that's me stumbling through the guitar accompaniment, and Jenny playing the synthesized strings in the background.

One Moment More

Words and music by Mindy Smith
Performed by Katie Gaines
Not for profit or redistribution
All rights retained by original copyright holder

One Moment more

Hold me
Even though I know you're leaving
And show me all the reasons you would stay
Its just enough to feel your breath on mine
To warm my soul and ease my mind
You've got to hold me and
Show me now

Give me
Just one part of you to cling to
And keep me everywhere you are
It's just enough to steal my heart and run
Then fade out with the falling sun

Oh...please don't go
Let me have you just one moment more
Oh...all I need,
All I want is just one moment more
You've gotta hold me and keep me now

Tell me
How someday you'll be returning
And maybe, maybe I'll believe
It's just enough to see a shooting star
To know you're never really far
It's just enough to see a shooting star
To know you're never really gone

Oh...please don't go
Let me have you just one moment more
Oh...all I need
All I want is just one moment more
Oh...please don't go
Let me have you just one moment more
Oh...all I need
All I want is just one moment more

You've got to hold me and
Maybe I'll believe.

So hold me
Even though I know you're leaving

A stroll down Sesame Street...

2011-08-30T13:24:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I took Katie to New York City for an audition with the producers of Sesame Street. They're making a DVD video targeted at children coping with grief, and they want to feature a host and narrator who truly understands the way children experience loss and grief. They're looking for a young actress who brings both the experience of loss, and the perspective that comes from a few years of growth and maturity beyond the loss - Katie has both, and can express it with a heartwarming kind of clarity and endearing charm, which (I think) makes her exactly what they're looking for.

Katie jumped at the chance to be a part of something that will help other children find their way through the pain that she knows all too well. If she gets the part, she'll be singing several songs, and interacting on camera with a group of young children and muppet characters while narrating the story of a young girl who loses her mother to cancer. The script is heartbreaking but beautiful, and hits a little too close to home at times, but Katie read the audition scenes with all the composure that makes her so good on stage, and all the genuineness and real emotion that her experience gives her the unique ability to express. Between you and me, she was awesome - and I think she has a pretty good shot at getting the part.

If she does, filming will start in October, and will involve a lot of trips back and forth to NYC. The producers assured me that they'll be flexible with the filming schedule and work around Katie's school work as much as possible (of course I wouldn't expect anything less, given that the Sesame Street organization is all about education).

By the end of this week, we should know at least whether or not she's still in the running, and if so there will probably be a callback audition and followup interview.

Wish her lots of luck, and I'll keep you posted.

Goodbye Schrodinger...

2011-08-15T15:10:00.005-04:00

My 17-year companion, Schrodinger the cat, died last night. We all knew this day would come - 17 years is a long life for a cat - but it still hurts to say goodbye.

Schrodinger came into my life 17 years ago when a tiny kitten showed up on my doorstep one day. He was weak, starving, dehydrated, and limping from a broken leg, and he had an infected gash on the back of his head. I took him to the vet, who told me he probably wouldn't live through the night. He was about 3 months old at the time. The doctor said it was pointless to try to save him, and that he should be euthanized, but when I looked in those little green eyes I just couldn't do it. I asked the doctor if there was anything he could do, no matter how pointless it seemed. He said he could try some IV fluids and nutrition, and some antibiotics for the infection. But it would be expensive, he said, and it would be silly to spend that kind of money on a feral kitten that probably wouldn't live anyway.

But there was something about this kitten that grabbed at my heart. To this day I'm still not sure what it was, but someting told me I had to try to save this little guy. So I told the doctor to start the IV fluids and do what he could. To help defray some of the cost, I took him home that night instead of paying for an overnight stay in the animal hospital. I put him in a cardboard box and wrapped him up in a blanket. Before I went to bed, I looked at him in the box and he looked back at me. For some silly reason, seeing this cat in a box made me think of Schrodinger's Cat, which refers to a well-known (at least among science geeks like me) scientific paper written by physicist Erwin Schrodinger in 1935. So I decided to name him Schrodinger. I figured he would either be dead or alive in the morning, so the name seemed appropriate (if you don't know what I mean by that, click this link and you can read all about Schrodinger's Cat).

Needless to say, he survived, and he grew up into the sweetest and most loving cat I've ever known. The Schrodinger name stuck, although sometimes I just called him Erwin because it's easier to say. When Laura was little, she couldn't pronounce Schrodinger or Erwin, so she just called him "Cat". That name kind of stuck with him too, so sometimes we just called him "Cat". People always give me a weird look when I tell them I have a cat named Cat, so I just tell them it's easier to pronounce than Schrodinger. Then they give me an even weirder look.

We always thought he was somewhat defective, but we loved him anyway. Cats are supposed to chase mice. We have mice. Schrodinger didn't chase them. He would lie on the floor with one eye open and watch a mouse run out from under the kitchen sink, across the floor six inches from his nose, and into a hole in the baseboard on the other side of the room. I think he thought the mice were part of the family. He also had no fear of dogs. Out in the back yard, the dog would run at him full speed, barking like a fool, and Schrodinger would sit there looking at him like "WTF is wrong with you?" Then the dog would skid to a stop, look at me as if to ask "what's up with this cat? Why isn't he running?", then wander off with his tail between his legs.

He always seemed to know when someone was sick, or sad, or lonely, and he would try to keep them company. Whenever one of the girls stayed home sick from school, he would lie in bed with them all day long. When Jill was dying, he spent almost every day curled up by her side. When Katie was grieving and adjusting to her new home here, Schrodinger was in her bed every night, curled up with his nose right next to hers. It comforted her to have a furry companion, and I think he knew that somehow. I think he could sense that she was sad, and that his presence made a difference.

Whenever I would sit in my favorite chair to read a book, he would jump into my lap and curl up and purr himself to sleep while I read. And if I sat in that chair with my laptop, he would jump onto my lap anyway and try to lay on the keyboard. That was his spot, and he wasn't about to let a computer take his place.

He was a wonderful and loving companion, and a dear furry friend. Rest in peace, little buddy. We'll miss you.

And now for something completely different...

2011-08-08T08:15:00.007-04:00

I'm in the process of building a small recording studio in my basement. I've sectioned off one corner of the room with soundproof walls, and I've acquired some recording equipment and a mixing board, and some rather complicated computer software for doing the mixing and editing.

My goal is to give Katie a place to make some good recordings without the expense of professional studio time. My brother Dave bought her a block of time in a pro studio last year, and she made some really good recordings there - but it was really, REALLY expensive, and not something we can afford to do on a regular basis. Doing it ourselves gives us the freedom to experiment, plus I'll have full control of the mixing and editing process - I may not have the ears (or the high-end equipment) of a professional recording engineer, but I know what sounds good, and I know Katie's voice and what works for her and what doesn't.

Note that I'm not trying to turn Katie into a pop superstar or anything, I just want her to be able to make some recordings that let her sound as good as she is. Some of the bigger theaters these days want demo recordings to screen for auditions before they'll even schedule a live audition, so it will be good for her to have some good recordings to send in for those.

This is still very much a work in progress. I've been experimenting with the equipment and editing software using myself as a test subject (so I don't wear out Katie's voice doing retake after retake when I get the settings wrong). It took me about a week to get the EQ settings for my guitar to sound just right, and now I'm working on making the vocals sound good - I figure if I can make it sound good with ME on the mic, it will be a piece of cake to make Katie sound good. I don't think I could make her sound bad even if I tried.

Anyway, I don't sing nearly as well as Katie...but Jen talked me into sharing this one because she knows it's one of my favorite songs, and she seems to think I sing it pretty well. So if you're up for it, give this a listen and let me know what you think.

September

Words and music by Chris Daughtry and Josh Steely
Performed by Jeff D'Antonio
Copyright 2011. Not for profit or redistribution

This song takes me right back to my childhood, growing up with my best friend in the carefree world of our back yards. If you've been around here for awhile, then you've read about the chain of events that led my life to where it is now, and how things could have turned out so differently. And if you know that story, then you'll understand why I like this song so much. Like the song says, "it was worth it in the end."

If you like this song, support the original artist by buying it - believe me, Daughtry sings it way better than I do. And if he sells a few copies because of my use of his song without permission, he's less likely to send his lawyers after me for copyright infringement...

September

Words and Music by Chris Daughtry and Josh Steely
Copyright ℗ 2009 19 Recordings Ltd.

How the time passed away. All the trouble that we gave
And all those days we spent down by the lake
Has it all gone to waste? All the promises we made?
One by one they vanish just the same

Of all the things I still remember
Summers never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain

In the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end.

Now it all seems so clear, there was nothing left to fear
So we made our way by finding what was real
Now the days are so long and summer's moving on
We reach for something that's already gone

Of all the things I still remember
Summers never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain

In the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end.

We knew we had to leave this town
But we never knew when and we never knew how
We would end up here the way we are
Yeah we knew we had to leave this town
But we never knew when and we never knew how

Of all the things I still remember
Summers never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain

In the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end.

5 Years...

2011-07-28T17:50:00.005-04:00

It's been five years now, and the memories still linger. Five years ago today, my friend Jill took her final breath, and I said goodbye to the dearest friend I ever knew. Jill was more than a friend. She was a part of me. Losing her was like losing a piece of my soul. She was always there. She was a part of every important event in my life since the age of six. We grew up together. We went through everything together. Everything. She saved my life once. I only wish I could have saved hers. Cancer is such a cruel and unfair and brutal disease. It robbed Jill of her life. It robbed Katie of her mother. It robbed me of my friend. It robbed the world of a living angel, and this world so desperately needs angels like her in it. I've stopped asking why, because I know there are no answers. But I'll never stop wishing that things would have turned out differently for her. And I'll never stop hoping for a cure for cancer.

When Jill was dying, she told me that the hardest part of it all was knowing how much it was going to break Katie's heart. Her little heart was already shattered by the loss of her father a few years before, and the thought of her losing her mother too was almost unbearable. I promised Jill that day that Katie would be okay. I promised her that she would always know how much she was loved. I promised her that Katie would live through the grief, and that she would grow up and have an amazing life. I promised her. And then I was terrified that I had made a promise I didn't know how to keep.

When Jill asked us to raise Katie in her absence, Jenny and I didn't need to think it over. We looked at each other and we just knew that there was no other choice. We had known Katie since the day she was born, and she was already like an extension of our family. Jill told us there was nobody else in the world she would trust to give Katie the kind of love she deserved; the kind of love she would need to survive her loss. You can't fix a heart that's broken like that. You just have to be there and let her live through it, and let her know that you're there and that she'll always be safe and loved. One of the hardest things in the world is to watch a child you love suffer through something you can't fix, and we were terrified that we wouldn't be able to do it.

But Katie is a survivor. Since then, she has grown from the sad and broken little girl we took into our home that day, into an amazing and beautiful and talented young lady with a heart of pure gold. She has her mother's eyes. She has her mother's heart. She has her mother's spirit, and her mother's voice. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Jill and thank her for giving us this amazing gift. Katie still has days when she feels her loss. She still has moments when the grief sneaks up on her and knocks her flat. She still wakes up sometimes crying for her mother after a bad dream. But she goes on. She has thrived in spite of it all.

...

As each year goes by, I'm never quite sure how Katie is going to respond on this sad anniversary. Every year is different. As she grows older and more mature, she processes things differently. She sees things differently. She remembers things differently. But she always remembers. When she came down for breakfast this morning, I could see it in her eyes. She knew what day it was. It's strange how a simple date on a calendar can have such a profound effect on how a person feels. It should be just another Thursday in July, but it's not. I know what this date means for her, and how it makes her feel. I feel it too. The overwhelming feeling of sadness is like a crushing weight on your shoulders, and it's almost impossible to shake it off.

We visited the cemetery today. As usual, we stopped at the flower shop on our way there. Janet, who owns the flower shop, gave us a knowing smile as we walked in. She knew why we were there. She knew what day it was. Before we even asked, she pulled out a bouquet of pink and yellow roses that she had already hand picked just for us. She handed them to Katie, along with an extra rose for her to keep. I tried to pay her for the flowers, but she wouldn't take my money. She remembers Jill, and considered her a friend. She said the flowers are her gift to us and to Jill. Katie forced a smile and said "thank you" as Janet handed her the roses. She looked at them and a tear ran down her cheek as the smell of roses brought back a flood of memories. I put my arm around her and held her close as I thanked Janet for the flowers, and we went on our way.

At the cemetery, we sat down at Jill's grave. We placed the roses in front of her stone, along with a picture of a rainbow that Katie drew. We sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us lost in our own thoughts and memories. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Katie wiping tears from her face. I knew there was nothing I could say, so I just put my hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her close. Then we went for a walk around the path that winds through the cemetery, and we talked things over.

Katie told me a story about a conversation she had with her mother a short while before she died. Jill had told her never to worry because she would always be with her, like a guardian angel. Katie said she didn't really understand what that meant at the time, but now that she's older she sees signs of her mother everywhere. She sees her in dreams, hears her voice calling her name when the wind blows a certain way, feels her presence comforting her when she feels alone. She even confided in me that she saw her at the theater while she was on stage last night - the spotlight was in her eyes while she sang "Somewhere Over The Rainbow", and she said she saw a reflection in the glare that looked just like her mother sitting in the audience smiling at her. She said it caught her so much by surprise that she almost stopped singing in the middle of her performance, and nearly forgot the words. She said she had to look away to regain her composure, and when she looked back the image was gone.

I believe what Katie saw was real. I've had similar experiences myself. They're always subtle enough that they could be explained away as tricks of the mind or wishful thinking, but I don't think so. I'm a level-headed and rational science guy, but I know there are things out there that science can't explain. I may have my doubts about God sometimes, but I do believe in angels. Jill was an angel in life, and I truly believe she's still here in some form. Call me crazy, but I believe that with all my heart.

After our walk, we had to go back home so Katie could get ready for her next performance - the show must go on, even on a sad anniversary like today. Now I'm sitting here in the theater lobby writing this on my laptop, while Katie is back stage warming up her voice and getting into her costume and stage makeup. She asked the director if she could dedicate tonight's performance to her mother's memory, and he agreed. So tonight before the curtain goes up, Katie will step onto the stage as herself and read a special dedication that she wrote. Her words are beautiful, eloquent, and heartfelt. I think tonight's performance will be one to remember.

*sigh*

Five years. Five long years, and it still seems like yesterday. Sometimes I wish I could turn back the hands of time and return to the simple innocense of our childhood, growing up together, laughing together, playing together, with no knowledge of all the pain and loss that were to come. Other times, I'm grateful for the memories I have, and I'm reminded every single day of my unending gratitude to Jill for giving us the gift of Katie.

I would give anything to have my friend back again. I miss her so much.

I will never forget

Katie sings at Fenway

2011-07-25T09:18:00.003-04:00

Katie sang the National anthem for a Boston Red Sox game over the weekend. What an awesome experience for her to have a chance to sing in front of 45,000 people. We've been to Fenway Park lots of times, but to actually be down on the field? It's a whole new experience. The place looks HUGE when you're down there looking up at all those people...

She said she struggled a little bit with the echo - she couldn't hear herself singing, but she could hear the echo, which arrived a second or two later, so it was really hard for her to stay in tune. I guess that's just something you have to get used to when you sing in a big stadium like that. I think she sounded pretty great though.

I loved that the crowd started cheering when she hit the high notes on "rockets red glare", and especially "land of the free." She said it always energizes her when the crowd gets into it, and it makes her feel like she's doing something right. As she was leaving the field and the Red Sox were coming out to take their positions, catcher Jason Varitek came up to her and gave her a pat on the back and told her what a beautiful job she did. That was a big thrill for Katie, because she's a huge Sox fan and Varitek has always been one of her favorite players. She also got a mini standing ovation from second baseman Dustin Pedroia and shortstop Marco Scutaro during her rehearsal before the game, as they waited to take the field for batting practice.

Oh, and the Sox won. I'm pretty sure Katie had something to do with that.

Why perfection?

2011-07-22T15:30:00.007-04:00

We took Katie to a photographer today to get some new head shots for her acting auditions. It's important for her to have up-to-date head shots, because that's what casting directors look at first to screen potential audition candidates - for the bigger productions, you don't even get in the door for an audition if the photo isn't what they're looking for. And it's especially important for young performers to keep their head shots up to date because they grow and change so fast - you don't want to get called in for an audition only to be turned away because they were expecting someone younger based on the photo.

Given the importance of head shots, it's critical to have photos that show her at her very best - as close to perfection as she can get. Now of course for Katie, that's easy - I happen to think she's naturally beautiful, but my opinion might be a little biased. And my opinion doesn't count when she's up against lots of other beautiful and talented girls all vying for a limited number of spots in the audition schedule. So as much as I hate the idea of putting makeup on a 12-year old, it's pretty much mandatory if she wants to ever get called for an audition. Aside from the fact that she needs to look perfect just to get noticed, she also needs to look a little older - "Annie" aside, there aren't very many big theatrical roles available for a 12-year old, so for most auditions it's better for her to look a little older than she is. And that means she has to wear makeup.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. Before the photo shoot, I dropped Katie off at the salon to get her hair done and a professional makeup job. While I waited for her outside, I saw a parade of beautiful women coming in and out of the salon. They were beautiful on the way in, and beautiful on the way out (which led me to question what the heck they were doing in there anyway). They just kept coming - blondes, brunettes, red-heds, one after another they came and went, all of them looking stunningly perfect.

Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against beautiful women - I happen to be very happily married to one - but it got me thinking about why our society is so obsessed with this kind of phony image of perfection.

If you know anything about me, you can probably guess that I much prefer the all-natural look in a woman. Jenny rarely wears any makeup. She wakes up in the morning looking as real and natural and beautiful as she did the night before, and I like her that way. Sure, she has a few freckles on her face, and a few creases under her eyes, and an occasional pimple or two, but that's her. That's what she looks like. That's who I fell in love with. She's beautiful, and in my eyes she gets more beautiful every day. She has a simple hairstyle - she gets out of bed, runs a brush through it, and she looks beautiful. Or she can wear a baseball cap all day, then take it off and her hair still looks beautiful. Her natural beauty, and the simple way she maintains it, are two of the things I love about her (you can find the other 98 here). She doesn't get hung up on all that superficial stuff that doesn't really matter. She's the most beautiful woman in the universe without even trying (and she doesn't know it, which makes her even more beautiful).

So why is this world so hung up on "perfection?" Maybe it's just me, but I don't want "perfection," I want real. A real face, real hair, a real smile...and yes, real breasts - I'll take a real pair of 32B's over a fake set of 38D's any day. And I'll bet if you ask any man - at least any man with more depth than a 'Ken' doll - he'll tell you the same thing. We don't want perfection, we want real. We want to see a woman for who she really is and what she really looks like.

Men don't care what we look like. We don't wear makeup, we don't get $300 haircuts, we don't obsess over our weight or whether these pants make our butt look big. I don't have a perfect face. I have a scar on my chin, and another one on my forehead. I have a typically large Italian nose. My 5 o'clock shadow appears around 10:30 in the morning. I have quite a few gray hairs, and the beginnings of a bald spot starting to form on top. But you know what? When I look in the mirror, I see ME looking back at me. The scars are reminders of a life lived on the edge. The gray hairs are a reminder that my chidren are slowly killing me (kidding!), the big nose and hairy face are reminders of my Italian ancestry, the bald spot is a product of genetics and the simple fact of being a man. But it's all ME. It's what I look like. And I'm okay with that. Why do women hold themselves to a higher (and I might even say impossibly high) standard?

So, since a lot of my readers are women, maybe one of you can answer this for me: Who has convinced you all that you need $300 hairstyles and gobs of makeup and blindingly overwhitened teeth and overstuffed boobs, just to look attractive? And why? Besides the obvious 100 billion-dollar-a-year cosmetics industry, I mean. Women are smart enough not to fall for that marketing crap, aren't they? AREN'T THEY? Why the obsession with perfection? It's easier, cheaper, and more likeable and real to just be who you are. And don't tell me you like to wear makeup because it makes you feel good about yourself when you look in the mirror and see someone beautiful looking back at you - you ARE beautiful without all that stuff, and if you think you're not it's because you've been brainwashed by the 100 billion dollar marketing machine. And don't tell me that women like Jenny are lucky because they're naturally beautiful and you could never get away with not wearing makeup because you're not one of the lucky ones - you ARE beautiful, and if you think you're not it's because you've been brainwashed by the 100 billion dollar marketing machine. Okay, maybe you could do without that giant hairy mole on your nose, but that's the exception - if you have one of those, get it removed. Otherwise, just be happy with who you are, and learn to like the way you look. Because you're beautiful. And I'm a man, so I'm kind of an authority on the subject of beautiful women.

I am 21 years old today...

2011-07-15T23:59:00.001-04:00

Okay, not really. Chronologically speaking, I'm 40-something, and my birthday is in January. But 21 years ago today, I started my life over. A second chance at life is a beautiful gift, and I'm doing my best to get it right the second time around.

It's a day for celebrating, but also for reflecting. I don't like writing about it, so I won't - like last year, I'll give you a repost instead. There isn't much I could add to this by writing about it again.

...

REPOST: How to save a life

This is a story about a part of my life that I'm not very proud of. But it was also the part of my life that had the most profound influence on who I am today. It's not an easy story for me to tell. But it's a story well worth telling, because if it weren't for the love and dedication of the very best friend in the world, I would not be here today. This is the story of how my best friend saved my life.

I met Jill when we were 6 years old. She was different from every other girl I knew then, because she liked to play with trucks and dig for worms, instead of playing with dolls and having tea parties like all the other girls. We became best friends almost instantly. She outgrew her tomboy phase after a few years, but we still remained incredibly close even though our interests had gone in vastly different directions. By the time we were teenagers, we had already been through a lot together, and our friendship had evolved into an unbreakable bond. We were always together. We did everything together. Jill was my best friend, and as we grew up, life always seemed to keep finding new ways of showing us how much we needed each other.

When we were around 17, I started drinking. At first it was just on weekends, then it gradually became more and more frequent, until eventually I was getting drunk every day. I was going full speed ahead down the wrong road, and running over anybody who tried to stand in my way. All the people who cared about me tried to stop me, and I pushed them all away. I said things to them that I can never take back. I said things to Jill that would have caused most people to walk away and never look back. But she didn't walk away. She kept reaching out to me, and every time I pushed her away she kept coming back. I don't remember much about the next two years. I pushed away all of my family, all of my friends, all of the people who cared about me. Most of my former friends went off to college, including Jill. I didn't. I had no direction in life, and all I wanted to do was sit around and drink. I was alone. I no longer had anyone in my life who could help me.

Then one day in the summer of 1990 (July 15, to be exact), I came home from the liquor store with a brand new bottle of Jack Daniels tucked under my arm, and I found Jill sitting in my apartment waiting for me. She locked the door behind me, and she refused to let me leave until I sobered up and listened to her. She told me things that day that I will never forget. She spoke to me in a way that no one had ever spoken to me before. She told me things about herself that I never knew before, and she told me things about myself that I never knew before. All day, all night, and well into the next morning, she sat with me and talked. I'll never forget the look in her eyes that day. With tears streaming down her face, she pleaded with me, and she told me I had to fix this. I had never heard such desperation in her voice before. It was as if her own life depended on it. And it finally got through to me. The next day, I went to my first AA meeting. Jill continued to be there to support me and stand behind me in the months and years that followed. I still have the bottle that I came home with that day, still unopened, sitting here on a shelf next to my desk. I keep it as a reminder of what Jill did for me. She saved my life that day.

But that's not the end of the story. In August of that year, Jill was supposed to go to Europe for a year on a Study Abroad program through her university. It was a very difficult program to get into, with a lengthy application and interview process, and only the best and brightest got accepted into it. Getting into that program was a dream come true for her, and that opportunity meant more to her than anything else in the world. But she didn't go. Not only did she not go to Europe, but she took a year off from school, to stay with me, to keep me sober. It was too soon, and if she had gone away I would have started drinking again, and she knew it. She gave up the chance of a lifetime for me. For an entire year, she put her life on hold for me. She took me to my AA meetings. She was there in the middle of the night when I felt like I needed a drink. She was there to pick up the pieces when I fell apart. She helped me repair the rift I had created with my family. She gave everything she had to give, and she did it all for me, and without ever expecting anything in return. She did it because she believed in me. Jill knew me better than anyone else in the world, she knew I had the potential to make something of my life, and she refused to let me throw it away.

I always promised her that I would make it up to her somehow, and that someday she would get to go to Europe and see all the things that she had missed. But life went on, and circumstances got in the way, and Europe kept getting pushed aside for other things. She never got to take that trip. Jill always said she didn't have any regrets about that, and I believed her because that's who she was. But I have always had regrets about it, and I always will.

Jill died in July, 2006 after a long and horrible battle with breast cancer. She was 35. I wish more than anything that I could turn back the clock and give her back all the time that she gave up for me. I don't know where I would be now if she hadn't done what she did. My alcohol problems are far behind me now, and I love my family way too much to ever go down that road again. And I have Jill to thank for all of it. When I think back to all the times that she was there, all the times that she rescued me during moments of weakness, all the times that she saved me from myself...all the things that she gave up for me...I owe her a debt that I would never ever have been able to repay, even if she'd lived 100 years. But I'm doing the best I can to live the life that she gave me the chance to have.

After I got back on my feet I went to school and earned my degree in Applied Physics, then I went on to get a master's degree in engineering. Now I'm a high school teacher. My students know about my past. I'm not proud of it, but I think it's good for them to see that I made mistakes when I was their age, and was still able to turn around and make something of my life. As a volunteer at the teen counseling center, I see kids every day who are heading down that lonely road, and I try my best to get through to them before it's too late. Sometimes I can, and sometimes I can't - there are some who just need to find their own way. But I see it as part of my job, and part of the repayment of my debt, to help the ones I can.

So that's my story. It's an awful story about an awful time in my life, but also a story of unconditional love, and friendship, and giving. I hope you got something out of reading it.

When "I don't know" isn't good enough...

2011-07-14T08:15:00.006-04:00

I don't have all the answers, and I'm I'm not ashamed to admit it. When I teach, and a student asks me a question I can't answer, I'm not afraid to say "I don't know." But then as soon as I can, I get on the internet or go to the library, and I do some research and I find out the answer. Because I want to know. I hate not knowing. Same goes for when my kids ask me something I don't know the answer to - if I don't know the answer, we go on a mission to find it together, and we don't stop until we find it.

But today, Laura asked me a question that I can't answer, and the internet can't really help me on this one.

"Dad...?" she said. "Do you believe in God?"

She kind of caught me off guard with that one. I don't think anyone has ever asked me that question so directly before. And if you've been around here for awhile, then you know that I've been avoiding asking myself that question because I'm afraid of what the answer might be (read this post and this one, if you don't know what I'm talking about).

Do I believe in God?

I don't know. I used to. I was raised in a strict Catholic family. I believed what I was told to believe, until I grew up and realized that so many of the things I was told as a child didn't quite add up. So I abandoned everything the Catholic Church taught me. I researched, I pondered, I reflected, I looked deep inside myself for the answers, and I found them. Or at least, I thought I found them. I created a version of God that was very different from the official God of the Catholic church that I had grown up with. My version of God wore jeans and a tee shirt, and went for walks in the woods with me. He didn't want me to worship him, he wasn't interested in rituals or formalities or sacraments, he didn't want to hear me recite canned prayers and trite sayings from a book. He just wanted to know me. He would sit and listen to me while I shared my deepest feelings and fears with him. He never spoke back to me, but I always knew he was there. I always knew he was listening. I always knew he cared. I always knew that he understood everything about me; he knew my every thought, every word, every deed, and he was okay with all of it. That was a version of God I could relate to. It fit me much better than the Catholic version, and I always knew he would be there for me when I needed him.

And then it all came crashing down.

When Jill was battling cancer, I prayed every day for a miracle to spare her life. I prayed alongside literally hundreds of friends and people who knew and loved Jill. I couldn't understand how my loving and compassionate God could allow such a horrifying thing to happen to such a beautiful person. I couldn't understand how the God I knew could sit there and watch her suffer and die in such an abhorrently terrible way and not do anything about it. And I couldn't understand how the God I knew could ignore all the prayers of all the people who loved her and prayed for her.

I felt betrayed. I felt like God had abandoned her. I felt like he had abandoned me. And Katie. And all the others who prayed for her. The God I knew would never do that. He would never let that happen. He had the power to fix her, so why wouldn't he use it? He had the power to end her suffering, so why wouldn't he use it? He had the power to do something - anything - so why wouldn't he use it? And the only answer I could come up with was that I was wrong about God. Either he wasn't who I thought he was, or he didn't exist at all. Both choices sucked, but the blind faith I had clung to for most of my life wasn't an option anymore.

The funny thing about faith and trust is that once it's broken, it's unimaginably difficult to put back together again. It's like unbending a paper clip, or stretching out a Slinky™ - sure, you can bend it back into a shape that loosely resembles what it once was, but it will never be the same again. And it will never work the way it did before.

That was a turning point for me. For the first time in my life, the God I always counted on wasn't there anymore.

Over the years since Jill died, I've worked hard to try to restore my shattered faith, even though I know it will never be the same. Not so much for my own sake, but for my children - I couldn't bear the thought of them growing up without some sort of faith, and they learn faith by example. And I knew I couldn't pretend - kids can see right through that. It had to be real. I had to find the pieces and put them back together again. I figured in the meantime I could deflect any questions the girls might ask, and send them to Jenny for answers - her faith has always been stronger than mine anyway, and she's always done a much better job of teaching them about God than I ever could. That worked for awhile.

But there's a reason why Laura came to me to ask that question, instead of going to Jenny. She came to me because she knew I would answer truthfully, and she knew I wouldn't try to hide behind a canned answer or under a blanket of wishful thinking. She came to me because she knew I wouldn't have an easy answer. And she didn't want an easy answer. She wanted the truth.

And the truth is, I don't know. Anymore. I really don't know what I believe.

So I told her that.

I was careful not to load my response with anything that would bias her feelings one way or the other. I gave her at least as many reasons to believe as reasons not to. I told her about the version of God that I created when I decided that the Catholic version didn't fit me. I tried my best to guide her in the direction she needed to go, and not the direction I wanted her to go. She's smart enough and mature enough to make up her own mind about what she believes. She's exactly where I was 25 years ago, when I started asking questions about my Catholic upbringing. That was a long journey for me, but I came out the other side with a stronger faith and a better relationship with God - at least for awhile.

Faith isn't really faith until it overcomes doubt. And if it's real, questioning it makes it stronger. I like that Laura is questioning it. I like that she's not blindly accepting what she's been told. I like that she's okay with seeking answers and not finding them, as long as she finds something that works for her. The answers don't need to come from a church, they just need to be her answers.

I hope Laura can create a version of God that fits her, like I did. And I hope with all my heart that hers never gets shattered, like mine did. Because in a lot of ways, I miss the blind faith I used to have. Maybe someday I'll find it again. And if I do, maybe it won't be blind anymore.

Coming back to life

2011-07-11T09:25:00.007-04:00

Okay, remember how I said I was going to have lots of time for reading and catching up on some blogging while I recover from surgery...? Nevermind. Too many visitors, not enough energy. And as for the blogging part? I'm not doing anything, so I don't have anything to write about. Frankly, I'm bored out of my mind.

But that's all changing now. I'm up and about, and feeling pretty good. I went for a hike in the woods this morning to my favorite spot by the creek and just sat there for awhile and reflected on things. The thought of my kidney walking around in someone else's body...? Woah. Pretty weird stuff. But awesome. Really awesome. That it's even possible, I mean. Not too long ago, that kind of thing would have just been science fiction, and now my brother can have a relatively normal life again, all because of medical miracles like this. Truth be told, the whole thing leaves me kind of speechless.

BTW, Chris is doing really well. We're almost a perfect match, so they said he might not even need the anti-rejection meds once things get going. And I'm told that my kidney is performing flawlessly for him so far. I've always been kind of a perfectionist, so I wouldn't expect anything less from my kidney.

......

Okay, who told Katie to "break a leg" before her opening performance as Dorothy? Fess up. 'Cuz here's the thing: she almost did. Break a leg, that is. She has a scene where the Wicked Witch shoves her across the stage and throws her to the floor, and I guess she was a little closer to the edge of the stage than she thought. She fell off the stage and into the pit orchestra, landing on top of the trombone section. But, seasoned professional that she is, Katie stayed in character, climbed back onto the stage, improvised a few lines to let her panicked co-stars know she was okay, and limped through the rest of the scene with a sprained ankle. She was clearly in pain, but she kept it together and got through the rest of the scene. It was right before intermission, so I went backstage and wrapped her ankle with some athletic tape before the second act. It's just a mild sprain and a few cuts and bruises, and she's fine now. The lady who plays the Wicked Witch was apologizing profusely for pushing her too hard, but Katie wouldn't let her take the blame, insisting that it was her own fault for being in the wrong spot. At the same time, the director was praising Katie for staying in character and getting through the scene. As Katie put it, "Hey, it's live theater - stuff happens, and sometimes you just have to go with it." That's my girl. But don't ever tell her to "break a leg" again. Or she might break yours.

That's all for now. I've got a lot of things to catch up on, but I just wanted to pop in here and let you all know I'm still alive. More to come...

I'm okay...

2011-06-27T08:22:00.002-04:00

Thanks for all the prayers and kind words. And real world friends and family, thanks for being there for Jenny and the girls - I think they were a lot more worried about me than I was...

Chris and I are both doing fine. I'm at home now, but Chris has to stay in the hospital a few more days for monitoring. Both surgeries went well - I was out of the operating room in about two hours, and Chris took about four. We got to share a room at the hospital, so it was nice to spend some time together and talk man-to-man and brother-to-brother about a lot of stuff. He's still my hero, even though he says it's the other way around.

I'll have to take it easy for a few weeks. That's a tough job for me, because I lead a pretty active lifestyle and I hate not being out there doing stuff. On the bright side, I'll have plenty of time to catch up on some reading, and I'll have lots of blogging time too - but right now it hurts to sit upright for more than a few minutes at a time, so that might have to wait a few days. Jenny made me turn off my fire dept and SAR pagers so I won't be tempted to go if there's a call...

I have some kick-ass pain killers, but I'm not taking them unless I absolutely have to. I hate the way they make me feel.

Katie's show opens this Friday. I'll be there, no matter how much it hurts - a promise is a promise. And I wouldn't miss it for the world.

That's all for now. I need to lie down for awhile.

Thanks again for everything, and especially for taking care of Jenny for me while I was gone - you all know how much I hate not being able to be there for her, and you all stepped up and took care of her for me, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that. And Laura T, thanks for taking care of the girls so Jenny could be there with me. I know that was a lot to ask of you, and we owe you BIG. The outpouring of support has been amazing. You are all wonderful.

Unauthorized guest post from Jenny

2011-06-22T13:25:00.003-04:00

Hi everyone, Jenny here. Jeff didn't want to write about this because he says it's no big deal...but it IS a big deal, so I'm posting here without his permission to ask for your prayers.

Jeff is on his way to Boston right now. Tomorrow morning a team of surgeons will remove one of his kidneys and transplant it into his brother Chris. I know he wrote a little something about that a few months ago, but I can't find it now to link to it. Chris lost one of his kidneys when he was injured in Iraq a few years ago, and now his remaining kidney has failed. Jeff and all his other brothers and sisters were tested for a match, and Jeff was the best candidate.

Everything I've read says the risk to the donor is minimal, but I'm still scared out of my mind. I'll be dropping the girls off at a friend's house in a few hours, then I'll head down to Boston to be with Jeff. He has to go in for some pre-surgical testing today, then spend the night in the hospital. The surgery is scheduled for 8:00 tomorrow morning, and he'll be in the hospital for a few days after. If all goes well he'll be home by Saturday or Sunday.

Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful comments on my last guest post and the one with me playing the piano. Sorry I didn't have time to reply to all of you personally.

Please say some prayers for Jeff and his brother. I'm so scared. Please tell me everything's going to be okay.

More Jenny...

2011-06-13T08:00:00.005-04:00

It's final exam week, and I'm busy putting together exams and figuring out final grades, so I don't have much time for writing. So in place of my usual babbling, I'll give you a special treat from Jenny instead.

As she mentioned in her guest post last week, she teaches piano lessons. She has a recital for her students every year, giving each of them a chance to play in front of an audience and show off what they've learned.

This year she has a student whose father is a professional recording engineer, and he volunteered to record the recital performances and make a cd for all of the parents. Thank you Kevin!

Jenny always starts off the recital by playing a piece herself, just so the kids can hear what they're striving for.

So here's Jenny playing one of her favorite Mozart sonatas.

Piano Sonata #16 in C major
W. A. Mozart
Performed by Jenny D'Antonio
Recorded by Kevin Mehlman Studios, Copyright © 2011.
Not for profit or redistribution

Music lives on... (by guest blogger: Jenny)

2011-06-06T08:50:00.007-04:00

Today you get a guest post from Jenny. She's going to tell you about a project she started last fall that has changed her life, and hopefully made a big difference in the lives of a few kids along the way.

...

Hi everyone, Jenny here. I asked Jeff not to write about it when I started this project because I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, and I didn't want to fail with the whole internet watching. But it has turned out to be a huge success, so now I get to tell you all about it.

Last year around this time, Jeff wrote about the school music program being eliminated in our school district. This was a very sad thing for all of us because music is such an important part of our lives. I couldn't bear the thought of kids growing up without an opportunity to play in the school band, so I decided to do something about it. I became an elementary school band director.

As an unpaid volunteer and a program without school sponsorship, I don't have access to the kinds resources that a "real" band director would have. Some kids can't afford instruments, so I went to local music stores seeking donations and loaner instruments that the kids could use if they couldn't afford one of their own. We received 2 trumpets, a saxophone and a trombone through these kinds of donations, plus a loaned bass drum and some other percussion instruments. With the money we collected through fund raisers we were also able to purchase a flute, a clarinet, and a snare drum.

Since we're not a school sponsored organization we had to make our own arrangements for a place to hold rehearsals and our spring concert. The school wouldn't allow us to use their facilities so we used the rec center at the firehouse, which is right across the street from the school. Since my wonderful husband has some connections with the fire company, we get to use the rec center whenever it's available, and we were able to arrange for storage of the bigger instruments there too.

We have 31 kids in the band, ranging from 4th through 8th grades. Two days a week, the kids come to the rec center after school and we rehearse for an hour and a half. Sometimes it's a little hard having such a wide range of abilities in the same band, because the 4th graders are just learning how to play their instruments, while the older kids want to play harder music. We had to make some compromises and pick music that falls somewhere in the middle. We also played one piece with just the 4th and 5th graders, and one with just the 6th through 8th graders, so they all got to play something that was right for their level of experience. I'm trying to find a way to do more of that next year, so the older kids don't get bored by playing music that's too easy for them, and the younger kids don't get frustrated by playing music that's too hard.

I didn't know anything about being a band director when I started this, and I didn't know what to expect. I love music, I love kids, and I teach some piano lessons on the side, so I have a little bit of experience with teaching music to kids, but I really had no idea what was involved in leading a whole band. I had never directed a band before and I knew very little about most of the instruments (I played the clarinet when I was in school and can still play a little bit, but I didn't know anything about teaching brass or percussion instruments). I was learning along the way, and sometimes the kids taught me a few things, so it was a great learning experience for me too. I tried to schedule time with each section to go over just their music and to help the younger kids learn how to play their instruments. I relied heavily on the older kids for that, since I don't know how to play most of the instruments. It was challenging, and sometimes a little frustrating, but in the end the kids really came through and helped each other learn their parts.

One thing I learned is that to be a band director at the elementary school level, you have to really want to do it. At higher levels, the music itself is the reward, but in elementary school...well to be honest, the music is sometimes pretty painful to listen to. But the smiles on the kids' faces when they play it, and when they finally master that hard passage - it's music to my ears. This has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. They are all great kids, and their love of music shows in the dedication and hard work they've put into this band. So many parents came up to me after the concert and thanked me and told me how wonderful it was that I was doing this. Jeff has always said that the best part about being a teacher is when you get to look back at the end of a long school year and see how far your kids have come, how much they've grown, and you realize how much of a difference you've made. I totally get that now.

I have loved this experience so much that I've decided to go back to school for a degree in music education. I don't know if I'll be able to find a job when I'm done, since music programs are being eliminated all over the place, but it doesn't matter - if nothing else I'll be able to keep doing this as a volunteer, and a music education degree will make me better at it. I never knew I wanted to be a music teacher, but I think I've finally figured out where I belong.

Wilderness Survival

2011-06-01T09:29:00.003-04:00

My brother Dave is an assistant Scoutmaster with his son's Boy Scout troop. They wanted to take some boys on a wilderness survival weekend, and he asked me to come along as their guide, since I have a lot of experience in that area.

A wilderness survival weekend involves, as the name implies, going out deep into the wilderness and...well...surviving. No trails, just open wilderness. You go out empty-handed - no tents, no sleeping bags, no backpacks, no food. Only a canteen of water and a pocket knife, are allowed (I cheated a little and carried a small first aid kit and a Forest Service two-way radio just in case - since they are just boys, and the program is called wilderness survival, I thought it might be good to make sure everyone actually survived).

Anyway, the idea is you get dropped off at a prearranged location, head out into the wilderness, and (hopefully) arrive at another prearranged location a few days later to be picked up. Maps and compasses are not allowed, so you have to navigate by landmarks (it helps to know the terrain by studying the map in advance). If you're lucky, you find a stream or lake and catch fish to eat. If you're unlucky, you survive on edible plants. As "luck" would have it, I planned our location in such a way as to all but assure that we would stumble across a creek with lots of fish and drinkable water. Again, they're just boys, and we didn't want anyone getting dehydrated or starving to death, so I kind of planned it so "luck" would be on our side (just don't tell the boys...)

Needless to say, this kind of trip isn't for wimps. And it also goes without saying that you don't want to do this unless you have an experienced guide with you, which is why my brother asked me to go along. You have to know what you're doing out there or you can get into serious trouble - at the very least, you have to know what to eat, what NOT to eat, how to find water, and how to find your way back without a map or compass. It also helps to know a little bit about the wild animals you might encounter along the way, and how to avoid ending up on their dinner menu. Fortunately for us, there aren't many animals around here that would consider us food. There are black bears, coyotes, a few wolves, and mountain lions in the area, but most of these animals would rather avoid contact with humans and will keep their distance unless provoked. Still, any animal will defend itself if it feels threatened, so you have to know how to appear non-threatening, and how to avoid coming face-to-face with them in the first place.

That said, we started off into the woods on Friday afternoon. We hiked about 5 miles in and set up camp in a small clearing. We feasted on burdock roots and dandelions, then built a lean-to shelter out of sticks and leaves. We used the setting sun to get our bearings and figure out which direction we needed to go, and scouted the area to plan our route for the next morning. With no light and no way to make a fire (yet), we went to sleep once darkness fell.

The next morning, we dismantled our shelter and cleared away our camping area, leaving everything just as we found it, then we set off on our way. We headed downhill in hopes of finding our way to a stream - in the mountains, you always head downhill to find water. Along the way, we searched for edible plants and picked up anything else we found that looked like it might be useful. Sometimes other people's litter comes in handy, and as luck would have it we came across an empty coke can. More on that in a minute. About 3 miles further in, we arrived at a stream. It was too shallow at that point for fish, but at least we had found a source of fresh water - that was good, because our canteens were running low. I knew that all the streams in this area originate high up in the mountains from snow melt, so the water is always pure and drinkable. I also knew that mountain streams of this type always get wider and deeper as you head downstream, so I knew if we followed it far enough it would eventually flow into a creek that was deep enough for fish. We followed the stream for about two miles, and sure enough, it fed into a larger creek at a point where a large deep pool was formed as several small tributaries came together. A perfect fishing hole.

We set up camp there and built a lean-to. Then we collected firewood, fully confident in the knowledge that we were going to be catching fish for dinner, and set about building a fire.

Hmmm...about that fire. No matches. There are several ways to start a fire without matches. Flint and steel requires two things we didn't have: flint and steel (btw, pocket knives are made of stainless steel, which doesn't work very well for a spark - you need plain old rusty steel for that). And fire by friction (rubbing sticks together) is just way too much work. There are ways to make it easier, but they all require materials we didn't have. Hmmm, how else can we make a fire?

Remember the coke can I mentioned earlier? Coke cans have a shiny, concave bottom. Not quite shiny enough for what we need, but it's a start. If you take some fine-grained sand from the bottom of the creek and use it as an abrasive, you can polish the bottom of the can to a mirror finish in no time at all. Now, what's a shiny, concave surface good for? Well besides a mirror, it works very well as a magnifying glass. All you have to do is aim it toward the sun, find the focal point of the reflector, and hold something flammable there. In about 5 seconds, you get fire. Though it was pure luck that we found the coke can out there, I had a backup plan too, just in case (always have a plan B - that's the first rule of survival). My canteen has a similar concave bottom and would have worked just as well for that purpose. Or if you wear glasses, you can use them too. But it was instructive for the boys to see it done with an empty coke can, plus we removed a piece of litter and cleaned up the forest a little bit in the process.

With our fire burning, and our lean-to shelter built, all we needed was a way to catch fish.

No fishing line, no hooks...how do you catch a fish?

Well, there are two ways (okay, there are more than two, but these are the two easiest ways): Weave a net out of vines, or make a spear. They're boys, so which method do you think they chose? SPEARS, of course!

You can make a spear either by sharpening a strong stick with your pocket knife and then hardening it in the fire, or by lashing your knife onto the end of a stick using vines. The latter is more efficient, but you risk losing your knife in the water if you aren't careful. In a real life-or-death survival situation, your pocket knife is your life line, so you don't want to take any chances with it. Since ours wasn't really a life-or-death situation, the boys chose whichever method they were comfortable with, and we had a mixture of both among the group.

By the way, if you've never spent any time around boys with spears...? It's an experience I don't recommend. It's a little scary. Boys are boys, and boys like stabbing stuff. It's just how they're wired. They can't help it.

Spear fishing is harder than it looks. With 7 boys and 3 adults, we speared a total of 5 fish in about 2 hours. I speared 4 out of the 5 (I've done this before). The 5th one committed suicide by jumping onto land when one of the boys tried to spear it.

We ate well that night. Fresh fish, cooked over an open fire, when you're really, REALLY hungry? Delicious.

The next morning we dismantled our shelter, buried our fire pit, and left the area looking just the way we found it. We headed downstream, knowing that rivers and streams always flow into valleys, and towns and villages are always located in valleys near rivers and streams.

We followed the stream until it flowed into the river, easily identifiable by its size, and then we followed the river until it crossed the road leading into town. A short hike down that road, and we arrived at our prearranged pickup location, about an hour ahead of schedule.

It was a great weekend, with a great bunch of kids. Everyone had a good time, and hopefully learned a little something about how to survive if they ever get lost in the wilderness.

Oh, and...coming home after a weekend like that, taking a long hot shower, eating a hot meal, and curling up in my nice, comfortable bed next to my beautiful wife? Heaven.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow...

2011-05-23T08:01:00.006-04:00

As I wrote last week, Katie will be playing Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz this summer.

I mentioned in that post that Katie sang Eva Cassidy's version of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" for her audition. Eva's arrangement is incredible, and very different from the original (I've posted a recording below, in case you've never heard it). This version has a special meaning to us, because it was Jill's all-time favorite song. Jill loved Eva Cassidy, and she could sing that song in a way that would reach right into your soul and grab you by the heart and not let go. Ironically, Eva Cassidy also died very young from cancer, and Jill found her music very soothing during her darkest days. Listening to Katie sing her mother's favorite song is simultaneously beautiful and heartbreakingly sad - and as always, Katie handles it with grace and composure, and a voice that will simply take your breath away.

A long while ago I mentioned here that I had a nice rainbow story I would share one day, so now's probably a good time to share it.

...

Jill always loved rainbows, which is part of the reason she loved that song so much. She loved to paint rainbows (did I mention she was also an artist?), and she always said that all the colors of the rainbow represented the full range of human emotions. During the last months of her battle with cancer, I found her one day sitting alone and listening to her recording of Eva's "Somewhere Over The Rainbow". She had tears streaming down her face, and I could see in her eyes that her mind was somewhere far away - no doubt thinking about where she was going and who she was leaving behind. Without saying a word, I sat down next to her and she put her head on my shoulder and we listened to the rest of the song together. When it was over, Jill looked at me, wiped away her tears and said, "When I'm gone, look for me whenever you see a rainbow. I'll be there." I still remember those words like it was yesterday, and the look in her eyes when she said them is burned into my memory forever.

On the day of Jill's funeral, we all gathered around her grave while the minister said a final prayer, and then each of us placed a pink rose on top of her casket before it was lowered into the ground. Katie placed her rose and said her last goodbye, then she turned to me and buried her face in my jacket, unable to contain her sobbing. My thoughts turned from my own grief to Katie's, and I remember thinking about the enormous responsibility that Jill had trusted me with, and wondering how I was ever going to be able to guide Katie through this unimaginable loss.

It had been raining all morning, and at that moment a clearing opened up in the sky. As the sun peaked through the rain clouds, a beautiful rainbow appeared above the mountains. It was the brightest and most brilliantly colorful rainbow I've ever seen, and Jill's words from that day echoed in my mind and hit me like a lightning bolt.

Look for me whenever you see a rainbow. I'll be there.

And just like that, I knew that Katie was going to be okay. With all my heart, I believe that rainbow was Jill's way of telling me where she was that day. She knew I would remember her words, and she was letting me know that she was okay, and that she would always be there to watch over Katie and the rest of us, and to guide us through the difficult and painful days that lay ahead.

Everyone present that day recognized the symbolism in the sun coming out at that moment, and some even commented on how beautiful the rainbow was - but I know that none of them could truly understand the depth of meaning in that rainbow the way I did. It was a beautiful moment wrapped around a breathtakingly sad one, and it was truly a moment I will never forget.

It was the first of many gifts Jill has given us, from her home on the other side of the rainbow. Make sure you click each of those links if you haven't already read them. They are all the proof I need - to believe not only that there is life after death, but that some people are able to somehow transcend it, to reach across that threshold and profoundly touch those left behind. I believe that with all my heart.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
Away above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me...
Somewhere over the rainbow,
Skies are blue.
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Arranged and performed by Eva Cassidy

Dorothy and Coca-Cola...

2011-05-20T08:09:00.001-04:00

Katie will be playing Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz this summer at the Merion Theater in Manchester.

Her audition for this one will go down in history as one of the weirdest auditions ever. She sang Eva Cassidy's version of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" for her audition. If you've never heard Eva's version, her arrangement of this song is absolutely stunning - and (of course) Katie does an amazing job with it.

I was watching the director while Katie sang. Directors usually sit cold and expressionless during auditions, so when I saw his eyes pop out and his jaw drop to the floor when she hit the big climactic "Somewhere" near the end, I figured that was a good sign. When she finished singing, the director ran onto the stage (in stereotypically flamboyant theatrical director style) and exclaimed (this is a direct quote): "Holy shit! [hyperventilating] Holy...holy...holy SHIT! You Are My Dorothy! YOU. ARE. MY. DOROTHY...I won't do this show without you."

Nevermind the fact that he said "holy shit" (twice) to my 12-year old daughter...the point is, he offered her the role on the spot. No callbacks, no waiting, no discussions with the producers or her agent. Just "You are my Dorothy. I won't do this show without you" (with a couple of "holy shit"s thrown in for emphasis). I think maybe he was a little bit impressed with her.

Rehearsals started this week. It's a fun show, and she's having a great time with it so far. It's a lighter role for her, and it gives her a chance to relax a little bit and have some fun with the part.

The show opens June 30 and will run through the end of August.

In other news, Katie landed a starring role in a regional TV commercial for Coca-Cola. She'll be in Boston for a few days in June for the filming, and it should be hitting televisions in the northeastern US by July. No singing, but she gets to try out her acting skills in front of a camera, which will be a different experience for her. It's a regional ad, so it will play on local (non-network) TV stations in the 7-state northeast region (NY, CT, RI, MA, VT, NH and ME) - anybody outside of those areas won't get to see her (sorry, the lawyers would have my head if I posted it on the blog).

It should be a fun experience for her, and it will get her some wider exposure than she gets from theater. Which is kind of cool, but also kind of creepy - given what happened back in January, I'm a little weirded out by the thought of all those eyes looking at Katie, but I guess that's just something I'll have to get used to if she wants to be an actress.

This has been a real education for me - I've had to develop a thorough understanding of the business side of all this stuff just so I can make sense of all the various contracts I've had to sign on Katie's behalf, and to make sure she gets paid what she's owed. It's a whole different world, and it's amazing how much goes on behind the scenes there. I thought the theater business was complicated, but the advertising business? Yikes. But she's doing what she loves, having the time of her life, and building up an impressive acting resume in the process. Plus, with the money she's making she'll have a nice little nest egg saved up for someday.

I'm still a little bit terrified about where this is all going to lead her. Ultimately, a tiny town in the northeast corner of New Hampshire is no place for an actress who wants to make it to the Big Stage...I think I'm still in denial about what that will mean in the long run. I don't want to hold her back, but I don't want her to get in over her head, either. You only get one childhood, and I don't want her to give up too much of hers chasing after this dream. Right now I guess I'm just trying to keep her feet on the ground long enough to figure out where she wants to be.

But for now, we're just going to "follow the yellow brick road" and see where it leads.

Just an ordinary girl?

2011-05-16T11:50:00.005-04:00

I went for a walk with Laura yesterday. We walked down the trail that leads from our back yard out to the overlook on the South side of the mountain. We always have our best talks while we walk in the woods, and I've been wanting to talk to her about some things that have been on my mind lately.

We've always tried hard to treat Laura and Katie equally. When Katie joined our family, it was hard at first, because of her tragic circumstances. We had to go out of our way to make her feel welcome and a part of our family, and devote much of our time to helping her cope with her loss. We worried at the time that Laura might not understand, or that she might feel jealous of Katie because she was always the center of our attention. We tried hard to keep Laura in the loop and give her our undivided attention when she needed it, but the reality of the situation demanded that we didn't have as much time for Laura as we wanted to. Then Christina came along and we had even less time. And now with Katie's acting career taking off (more on that in an upcoming post), things have been thrown out of balance once again. With all the running back and forth to the theater, and managing her stage life, and all the attention focused on Katie, I often worry that Laura might feel left out. We've always tried to set aside special time with her, and give her all the attention she deserves, but it's hard sometimes to keep that balance. I'm sure all parents know what that's like.

Sometimes I just worry that Laura feels like she's living in Katie's shadow. Katie is a minor celebrity around here - when we walk down the street in town, people recognize her, and total strangers come up to her and tell her how great she was in this performance or that, and what an amazing talent she has. All the kids at school want to be friends with Katie; the most popular boy in the school asked Katie to the dance; everybody knows Katie, and sometimes I worry that Laura might feel like she's been relegated to the role of "Katie's sister."

Don't get me wrong, Laura has always been Katie's biggest fan, and she's always the first to congratulate her after a great performance. They are the best of friends, and I love that about them. I just worry sometimes that Laura might feel left out when all the attention is focused on Katie; that she might get tired of always being "the other one."

So we had a nice talk yesterday, and it put my mind at ease.

Laura said, "I like being ordinary. I've never liked being the center of attention, and I love being able to watch Katie up on the stage. And when she blows the audience away I get to say, 'That's my sister!' I like being proud of her. I get to share in her greatness, without all the attention that comes from being her. I'm just an ordinary girl, and I like it that way."

There's something extraordinary about being that kind of "ordinary," I think.

When we got home from our walk, there was an envelope in the mailbox with an official-looking seal on it, addressed to Laura. Inside was a letter announcing that Laura has been selected to receive the Gillard Foundation's annual Good Citizenship Award. This is a huge award from a national organization, in which she was selected from among thousands of nominees. She was nominated by her teacher after Laura saved her life back in November. According to the letter, this award is given once a year to someone who they feel "demonstrates consistent evidence of outstanding citizenship as manifested in a positive and cooperative attitude, looking out for the well-being of others, perseverance, good sportsmanship, and efforts to uphold the best traditions and principles of the American way of life."

Included with the letter was a copy of the essay that her teacher wrote when she nominated her for the award. I won't reproduce it here because I don't have her permission, but suffice it to say that I am unbelievably proud of my girl. That essay is a glowing (and pointedly accurate) testament to all the qualities that make Laura who she is.

She'll be honored at an awards banquet in July (along with an all-expenses-paid trip to Chicago for the presentation of the award), and she'll also receive a $5000 scholarship to further her education.

Just an ordinary girl? Nope. Extraordinary in every way.

That's my girl.

On a lighter note...

2011-04-29T09:15:00.005-04:00

GAAAAAH!!! I can't do 6th grade math!

Okay, I probably shouldn't admit that in public. I mean, sure, most people would probably admit to having occasional trouble helping with their kids' math homework. But I'm not "most people." I teach physics. I solve 3rd-order nonlinear differential equations in my sleep. I can do vector calculus and solve triple integrals with one hand tied behind my back. I can calculate Gaussian quadrature integrations blindfolded, and I have a pretty thorough understanding of Fourier series convergence.

But when my girls asked me for help with their 6th grade math homework last night...?

I discovered that I have absolutely no idea how to manually calculate a square root (that is, without a calculator). I mean, I can do the easy ones, of course - the square root of a perfect square, like 49, or 81, or 100, for example...but that's because I know the answer. And I can get reasonably close using various approximation methods for small integers, but that's fairly trivial too. But how the heck do you find the square root of 11893.29? I knew there was a method to it, roughly akin to the process of long division, but for the life of me I couldn't remember how to do it. I had to ask the internet. And it took me 3 tries before I found a site that explained it in a way that made sense. And I'm still a little fuzzy on the details.

Needless to say, my daughters were rather amused at my complete incompetence at 6th grade math. They laughed at me when I read the wikipedia explanation of the digit-by-digit method, scratched my head, and went, "Huh???". Then they giggled like schoolgirls when I tried the method on a simple number in an attempt to figure out the procedure, and I came up with the wrong answer. They teased me relentlessly when I went to two other websites, read their explanations, pulled my hair out when they didn't make sense either, and punched my computer screen after I got frazzled.

I did figure it out eventually. But it's too late - my girls already think I'm an idiot. Of course, they'll be teenagers soon, so they'll think that soon enough anyway...I was just hoping I could keep them convinced for another year or two.

Sheesh. Who the heck needs to calculate square roots without a calculator anyway? I mean, really, isn't that why we HAVE calculators? So we don't NEED to do that kind of stuff anymore? Sheesh.

A quick message to my students...

2011-04-27T10:42:00.006-04:00

Well, it looks like my last post created a bit of a stir in the hallways here, and the rumors are flying...

I'm sorry about that. Knowing that some of you read my blog, it was a bit irresponsible of me to post that and leave you all wondering whether or not I was going to abandon you.

To Emily, Kara, Nikki, and L, thank you for your kind words - it warms my heart to know how much my presence means to you. L, see me after class today or tomorrow and we'll talk.

And to you and any other students out there reading this, I'll put it in bold print so it's absolutely clear:

I'm not going anywhere.

I was just venting. I'm a teacher, and I couldn't possibly do anything else. You guys are my world, and this school is like a second family to me - abandoning you would be like abandoning my family, it's just not something I could or would ever do. I won't quit, and you have my word on that.

I have made my feelings known to the administration, and I have made it clear to them that I intend to ignore many of the new policies. It remains to be seen whether or not they're willing to look the other way when that happens. My guess, as I alluded to yesterday, is that they don't intend to enforce any of this, but it's just being documented so they can cover themselves if necessary. Note that similar policies have been enacted in other districts across the country, and I have not heard of anyone taking action on such a policy to date. I seriously doubt anyone wants to be the test case when it comes to trying to enforce such a backward set of rules.

Anyway, you can all relax. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.

Is it time to quit teaching?

2011-04-26T15:19:00.002-04:00

Long rant today...sorry.

Is it time for me to quit teaching? I never thought I'd ask myself that question. I don't want to ask myself that question, because I'm afraid of what the answer might be. But I have to ask myself that question. And I have to find an answer, and a reason to keep doing what I love, in the place where I used to love doing it.

We had a faculty meeting last week. All the teachers were given a copy of the new policy manual, which goes into effect in September, and the bulk of the meeting was spent going over the new changes in the policy.

Here are some highlights:

- According to the new policy, if a student comes to a teacher with a personal problem, the teacher is to refer them directly to the guidance counselor. Under no circumstances am I to offer advice, guidance, or even a sympathetic ear to a student, unless the issue at hand directly pertains to my class or my specific subject area.

- The new policy strongly discourages (though does not explicitly forbid) teachers from engaging in any casual conversation with students regarding any subject that is not related to that which they teach. Current events, politics, family matters, and even sports, are all off-limits. So I can no longer commiserate with students who share my love of the Boston Red Sox, for example, or ask a student about his summer vacation plans. Essentially, I am discouraged from talking to my students about anything except the subject I teach. The justification for this policy change is that such casual conversations blur the boundaries of authority and can foster "friendship" between students and teachers. And apparently some people feel that teachers and students can't and shouldn't be friends (or even friendly). I suspect it's also aimed at discouraging teachers from expressing their opinions to students regarding controversial issues. We wouldn't, after all, want our kids exposed to the reality that people have different opinions and the fact that everyone has a right to theirs, would we? Never mind the fact that a little discretion and good judgement on the part of teachers is, and should be, kind of a prerequisite for the job.

- According to the new policy, all class discussions must be directly related to the teacher's own subject area and curriculum. Often when something important is happening in the world, I'll throw out the day's lesson plans and devote an entire class session to a discussion about the event. The day after the September 11 attacks, for example, every one of my classes was spent talking about what happened, and answering questions and discussing what was on their minds. Similarly, the recent earthquake in Japan triggered some intense discussions about natural disasters and the world's response to them. Or sometimes it's a more local event, like things happening in the school that directly effect the kids. I think it's important for them to have a place where they can talk about this stuff with guidance from an adult, and I believe my classroom should be such a place. Some days I don't teach physics - sometimes there are other things that are more important. But apparently, I'm not allowed to do that anymore. I'm only allowed to teach physics, and the kids are on their own when it comes to figuring out the stuff that really matters.

- According to the new policy, a teacher should have no contact whatsoever with any student outside of normal school hours or specific school-sponsored events. This includes all email, telephone, social media, and in-person communications. If a student needs help with classwork, they need to get help either between classes, during lunch, or during a study hall period or school-sanctioned after school session. I am no longer allowed to give out my email address or phone number to allow students to contact me for help. The Facebook page, which I have used regularly for posting homework assignments, lab notes, practice exams, links to interesting physics-related sites, one-on-one help via IM, etc, can no longer exist. If I run into a student at the grocery store, or in a cafe, or at the park, I'm only supposed to say "hello" and then move on. In fact, the way the policy is worded, even a smile and a friendly "hello" is discouraged, as it could be misinterpreted as an unwelcome advance. Apparently, I'm supposed to just look the other way and keep walking.

The new policy is unclear on what the proper procedure is when, for example, a teacher and student happen to be active members of the same community. I live in the district where I teach. Some of my students play baseball on the non-school sponsored team that I coach. Am I not allowed to coach the team anymore? Or are my students no longer allowed to play? I'm also a volunteer firefighter in my community, and I have a student who is a junior firefighter on my squad. Apparently I'm not allowed to talk to him anymore when we're out fighting fires together. Same with my search and rescue team, which has two junior members who are also students of mine. I raised the question, somewhat facetiously, at the meeting and received a non-committal answer from the administrators. I'll let you know if they get back to me with a real answer, and I'm curious as to what that answer will be.

It's also unclear how (or if) the new policy applies to my blog. I don't actively share my blog with students, but anyone can find it by googling me. I know for a fact that some students read my blog, and some even comment occasionally, and I'm okay with that. Does the new "no contact via social media" policy apply here? I don't know.

As I see it, these new policies are nothing more than another effort by the administration to avoid responsibility, much like the zero-tolerance policy I wrote about awhile back. The district doesn't want to be held responsible if something goes wrong, and they're afraid of lawsuits if, for example, a teacher gives a student some bad advice, or a parent misinterprets an email or text message. The new policies give them a crutch in court, as they can now point to a written policy manual and simply deny responsibility by claiming that the teacher was acting in violation of the official rules of conduct. Thanks for your support, administration...I guess I thought we were supposed to be a team, united and acting together in the best interest of the kids. I must have missed the memo that explained how covering your own asses fits in with that team atmosphere we're supposed to be building here...

So if a student comes to me after school and tells me that he thinks he might have a drinking problem, or maybe his friend is addicted to drugs and he needs advice on how to confront him - I'm supposed to turn him away and refer him to the guidance counselor instead. Even though the guidance counselor knows nothing about addiction except what she learned from a textbook or a counseling class she had in college. I'm a recovered alcoholic with 20 years of real world experience counseling other addicts, and first-hand insight into the mindset of an alcoholic and what it's like going through recovery. Nothing against our guidance counselor, she's a wonderful lady - but I am far better equipped to help that student than she is. And now I'm not allowed to help him anymore.

Or if a student comes to me crying after school and confides in me that her mother is dying of cancer and she doesn't know how to cope, I'm supposed to shut her out and tell her to make an appointment with the guidance counselor instead. Even though it's Friday afternoon and she won't be able to call for an appointment until Monday morning, and because of scheduling conflicts she won't be able to see the counselor until a week from next Thursday - when all she really needs is a hug and a sympathetic ear RIGHT NOW. I've been there. I've seen first-hand the horrors she will face in the months and years ahead. I know how to help that girl cope, or at least offer a level of understanding that goes way beyond the superficial, and a shoulder to cry on if she needs it. She knows that, and that's why she came to me; but I'm not allowed to help her anymore. I have to send her away and tell her she's on her own until the guidance counselor is available. (Just for the record, I'm not trying to take away the counselor's job here, just trying to be there for my student when she needs me. I'm sure the counselor could do a fine job if she were available. The point is, I'm not allowed to be there for this girl now, even when she has nowhere else to go).

Or what about the distraught girl who calls me at 2 AM because she needs a ride home after her date got drunk at a party and she refused to get in the car with him, and he left without her, and she didn't know who else to call because her parents wouldn't understand because they had warned her to stay away from that guy (yes, I know that's a run-on sentence. Shut up, I'm on a roll here). Yes, I'm aware of the risk of misinterpretation when a male teacher is seen driving a female student home at 2 in the morning, especially after she's been drinking; and yes I'm aware that the "safer" response would have been to tell her to call her parents and hope that they'll understand because they love her. But I've never been one to take the "safe" route - I help people when they ask me for help, and I don't worry about what other people might think. I give my home phone number to every student, every year on the first day of school, and I tell them to call me if they ever need ANYTHING, any time, day or night. Those aren't just words. Sometimes they take me up on it, and I'll be damned if I'm going to turn my back on them when they do.

Or the boy who gets bullied all the time by kids who tease him and tell him that he's gay, and he comes to me after school one day and confides in me that he's afraid they might be right and he doesn't understand his feelings and he doesn't know what to do. That's not an area in which I have any specific expertise, but it's something very very personal and private that he trusts me enough to talk to me about. And now when he comes to me I'm supposed to turn him away and send him to a guidance counselor instead, with whom he may or may not have the same comfort level or trust? How is that going to help him? How will it make him feel when he comes to tell me his deepest secret and I tell him, "sorry, not interested. Go talk to someone else."

Those are all real-life examples, with real-life former students. All of them have since graduated and gone on to do great things, and I like to think I played a small role in their success. The new policies would require me to turn my back on every one of those kids, and all the others who have come, and will come, after them.

The simple fact is, most kids don't like to talk about personal stuff with adults, and they won't unless it's someone they're completely comfortable with. Some kids are lucky enough to have that kind of relationship with their parents, but unfortunately most do not. If they can't talk to their parents, who else do they trust? Their friends? Well, that might be okay if they happen to have friends who are unusually wise for their age, but they're much more likely to get bad advice that way. If they were comfortable with the guidance counselor, they would have gone to her. But they weren't, so they didn't - they came to me instead. Maybe it's because I come across as approachable, or non-judgemental, or easy to talk to (I've been told I'm all three). Or maybe it's because they know I've been around the block a few times and have the experience they need and can give them the advice they're looking for, or because I have a "gift" for talking with young people and finding ways to get through to them. Or maybe it's just because I spend the time and effort building relationships with them and getting to know them on their level, and that builds the kind of trust that's required for them to feel comfortable talking to me about their deepest feelings and biggest fears. Whatever the reason, they come to me for help - and now I'm supposed to send them away when they do.

They're going to need to build a bigger waiting room at the guidance counselor's office if they think every student who asks a teacher for advice should be sent there. I don't think they realize how many things we talk to our students about, and how many problems we help them solve every single day. And it's not just me - it's just part of what you do when you're a teacher. How can they not understand that?

What a stupid, short-sighted policy. I won't do it. I'll quit teaching before I'll tell a student that I can't or won't listen when they need to talk. I'll quit teaching before I'll refuse to give my students the means to contact me, even in the middle of the night, if they need help. I'll quit teaching before I'll look the other way when I pass them on the street, or refuse to help them when they ask. If this administration has a problem with that, then they might as well fire me right now. Because I'm looking them squarely in the eyes and telling them, right here, right now, that I won't play by those rules. Ever.

I go out of my way to get to know the kids I teach. I spend time with them at lunch and between classes and after school, and we talk about anything and everything. I notice when they're feeling down, and I ask them what's wrong and if there's anything I can do to help. I give them my home phone number, knowing full well that they could misuse it, but trusting that they won't because they respect me. They respect me because I've learned how to relate to them on their level. I'm not afraid to give a student a pat on the back when they do a good job, or a hug when they need one, or to lend an ear when they need someone to talk to, and I don't worry about what people might think when I do. There's always a certain professional distance there because there has to be, but I go as far as I can to break down the barriers and get to know them within the boundaries of what I feel is appropriate. It's up to me to set those boundaries, and the boundaries need to be flexible, and that all comes down to trust.

These policy changes are all predicated on a lack of trust. It's the administration's way of saying "we don't trust our teachers to use good judgement and to act in the best interest of the kids." In some cases, that might be justified - there are certainly teachers who shouldn't be teachers, but that's a separate problem that needs to be addressed on an individual basis. My students trust me to help them when they need it, and their parents trust my judgement to always know and do what's right for their kids. That trust wasn't given, it was earned, and in my opinion if you're a teacher you HAVE to earn that kind of trust in order to do your job. The administration needs to recognize that, and they need to take steps to make sure every single teacher earns that kind of trust and respect from the students and their parents. And then they need to back off and trust us to do our jobs.

And my job isn't to teach physics - it's to teach kids. I do that by building relationships with them, and giving them room to grow, and allowing them to teach me how to teach them. If I can't do that anymore, then I don't know how to be a teacher anymore.

So I have to ask the question I don't want to ask: Is it time for me to quit teaching? Needless to say, with degrees in physics and engineering I could make a heck of a lot more money working in the field as a mechanical engineer. I'd be miserable, but would that be any worse than not being allowed to teach the way I teach? Maybe not.

I think the biggest problem with our education system is that it prevents people who really love teaching from doing what we know how to do. And when all the good teachers (and yes, I am shamelessly including myself in that category) are driven out by frustration, only the bad and mediocre ones will be left, collecting paychecks in a badly broken system full of teachers who don't give a shit. Where will that leave my kids?

Wishing you were somehow here again...

2011-04-21T08:17:00.002-04:00

Katie's voice teacher has been working on her upper soprano range. She gave Katie three songs to choose from for her spring recital piece - all beautiful songs, two of them happy and joyful; one of them devastatingly sad. Guess which one Katie chose...

"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again", from Phantom Of The Opera.

If you've ever lost someone you love, I dare you to try to listen to that song without getting choked up. And then I double dare you to try to sing it.

Below is Katie's performance at the spring recital. I can't begin to tell you how difficult it was for her to sing this song, both technically and emotionally. Technically, it's well above her normal singing range - it's part of her teacher's effort to develop Katie's upper register as she begins to transition out of her "little girl" voice and into her "grown up" voice. And of course the emotional aspect goes without saying.

If you know Katie's history, some might think she's torturing herself by always choosing such sad and personal songs that hit so close to home, but it's really all part of her coping strategy and always has been. Since the very beginning, Katie has used her singing to help her express her deepest feelings - for three minutes, she gets to be "someone else", and explore her emotions through the words of a song. It's her way of taking control of something that was so beyond her control. It took me awhile to understand that; now I don't worry anymore, because I've seen how much it helps her to get in touch with herself this way.

Here is what Katie wrote in her comment section of the recital program:

...

My performance tonight is dedicated to my mom and dad. They left this world too soon, and not a day goes by that I don't wish they were here. They gave me my voice, and tonight I give it back to them. Thanks, mom and dad for giving me a lifetime of memories in my short time with you. And to my other mom and dad, Jenny and Jeff, thank you for always being there for me. You gave me strength and taught me how to go on. You mean everything to me.

...

That pretty much says it all, I guess.

You can't really tell from the video, but Katie had tears streaming down her face from about the middle of the second verse, and by the end she was crying pretty hard. But you can't hear it in her voice, and her ability to sing and cry at the same time is a constant source of amazement for me - that's her strength coming through. She uses her strength to sing through her tears, and she uses her emotions to put everything she has into her song. She did cut the high note short at the end ("Help me say goodbye") because she was starting to lose it, but she hung on just long enough.

The audience exploded when she finished. Many of them have watched Katie grow up, and they all know her story. They know how emotional and difficult that song was for her. They felt the pain in her heart as she wiped away tears while she sang. They watched in awe as her voice never wavered, in spite of her tears, through the hauntingly beautiful melody. The standing ovation lasted for over a minute.

The video doesn't do her performance justice - sorry for the horrible video quality.

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again
Phantom Of The Opera, Copyright 1986
Music By Andrew Lloyd Webber
Words By Charles Hart

You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered
You were once a friend and father
Then my world was shattered

Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed
Somehow you would be here

Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never would
Dreaming of you won't help me to do
All that you dreamed I could

Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental
Seem for you the wrong companions, you were warm and gentle

Too many years
Fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die?

Wishing you were somehow here again
Knowing we must say goodbye
Try to forgive
Teach me to live
Give me the strength to try

No more memories
No more silent tears
No more gazing across the wasted years

Help me say goodbye
Help me say goodbye

Listen.

2011-04-12T13:42:00.004-04:00

This has been on my mind lately, for some reason. It happened about 10 years ago, and it's one of those things I'm still just trying to sort out, I guess. I'm hoping that maybe writing about it will help me make sense of what happened and bring some closure to it.

...

I was working down in the physics lab after school one day, setting up some equipment for my early class the next morning. There was a knock at the door, and when I looked up from the lab table I saw Julie, a student from one of my physics classes. She hesitated in the doorway and seemed a little nervous.

I asked her what was up. She replied that she was just waiting for her mother to pick her up from band practice, and she decided to stop in and see me because she saw the light on in the lab.

Something seemed just a little...I don't know..."off", I guess. Maybe it was something in her voice, or in her face. Or maybe it was just the way she carried herself - I don't really know, but looking back on it now I can distinctly remember thinking something just wasn't quite right about her that day.

We exchanged idle chit-chat for a few minutes. I don't remember what we talked about, but it was just meaningless small talk. After awhile she looked out the window and saw her mother's car waiting out front. As she gathered up her things and headed for the door, she turned to me and said, "You know what, Mr. D? You're the best teacher I've ever had. Thanks for being a friend." She was out the door and gone before I had a chance to respond. I remember thinking it was a little weird that she said that out of nowhere, but I smiled at the compliment and then went back to work setting up the lab.

Julie went home and killed herself that night.

I've replayed that scene a thousand times in my head. How did I miss it? What was it about her that seemed "off" that day in the lab? Was she trying to reach out to me? Was her visit really a cry for help, and I didn't hear her? Or was it just a goodbye? Had she already made up her mind, or could I have said something or done something that might have made a difference? So many questions. 10 years later, and still no answers. Julie would have been 26 now.

The more I think about what happened, the more I keep coming back to the troubling conclusion that I was too wrapped up in myself to notice that Julie was reaching out to me that day. I had a lot on my mind at the time, and I was in a bit of a hurry to get the lab set up and go home. And to be completely honest, I was feeling a little uncomfortable with the thought of being alone in the physics lab with a female student after school. Nasty rumors can get started that way, and I was a relatively new teacher at the time without the benefit of a good reputation to back me up.

I didn't listen to her. Or I listened but I didn't hear her. All the signs were there. Her school work had taken a turn for the worse in the prior few weeks; She had been quieter and more withdrawn in class; her parents had recently separated, and I knew she had a difficult home life. The weird sense of "off"-ness in her manner that day - there were signs in it. I don't think I have words to articulate what it was, but in hindsight I can see that there was something in her behavior or manner that should have triggered an alarm in my subconscious. Or maybe it did, but I didn't hear it because I was too busy, and too uncomfortable. Maybe she just needed to feel like someone cared, and I didn't give her what she needed. Maybe if I had just looked her in the eyes that day and said "Julie, are you okay?" maybe she would have broken down and told me what was on her mind. But I didn't. I didn't ask, and she didn't tell. Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference anyway, but I'll never know. And I'll never forgive myself for not asking.

So now I ask. Any time a student seems "off" I ask them what's wrong. I take them aside after class, and I do my best to assure them that they can talk to me, or the guidance counselor, or their parents, or a friend, or somebody if they have something they need to talk about. I won't let what happened to Julie happen again. Not on my watch.

I know I shouldn't blame myself, and I really don't. But it's hard not to ask "why?" and it's hard not to wonder if I could have done something differently. Her last words to me made it clear that she considered me a friend - did she not trust in that friendship enough to confide in me? Or was she trying to reach out but couldn't find the words? Or was she grasping for a lifeline that day and I failed to notice?

If you have teenagers at home, or you're a teacher, or you have any interaction at all with teens, listen to them. I mean really listen. If that alarm goes off in your head and tells you that something isn't quite right, listen to it. Figure out what it means, and don't let them out of your sight until you do. Teens don't always know how to express what's on their minds, so sometimes you have to poke and prod a little bit to get them to open up. And even then, what they say might not really be what they mean, so you have to read between the lines. They don't have the benefit of experience to teach them that most problems are temporary, and without guidance it can be far too easy for some to choose suicide as an easy answer.

So listen to them. I wish with all my heart that I had listened to Julie that day.

Justice. Well...kind of...

2011-04-08T13:41:00.003-04:00

Katie's stalker pleaded guilty this week to the charges of stalking, harassment, criminal trespass, and making terroristic threats against a minor. In exchange for his guilty plea on those charges, the most serious charge (attempted rape of a minor) was dropped. He was sentenced to 3 years in prison, and will be eligible for parole after 2.

Am I satisfied? Well, yes and no, I guess. I didn't really expect the attempted rape charge to stick, since he never actually got close enough to her to try anything. But they used it as a bargaining chip to get him to take the guilty plea, since it raised the stakes of going to trial - a conviction on that charge would have put him away for 20 years minimum, so it was in his best interest to take the plea bargain.

The good news is it spares Katie (and the rest of us) from having to relive it all by going through the trial process. But the guilty plea also got him a shorter sentence than he would have if he were convicted by trail. And I don't expect that his obsession with Katie (or with young girls in general, for that matter) will just go away after 2 or 3 years. Those kind of people can't be rehabilitated easily, and jail time is notoriously ineffective in that regard. Katie will be 14 or 15 when he gets out of jail. Will he come after her again? Or will he choose another (younger) victim next time? There will almost certainly be a next time, for somebody, somewhere.

At least now he'll have a record that will show up in a criminal background check, so he won't be able to get another job working around children. Still, for what he put Katie through, 3 years doesn't seem like much.

But I'm glad it's behind us for now. We'll cross the next bridge when we get there.

As part of his formal plea, he submitted a written apology to Katie and the rest of our family, and requested a chance to meet with us to apologize in person. I refused. I don't want him anywhere near my family ever again, and I certainly won't let him ever speak to Katie.

In his written apology he says that he loves Katie and never wanted to hurt her. That made me want to punch him. If you saw the things he wrote when he was stalking her you would understand why.

HELP! My Girls Are Growing Up! How Do I Make Them Stop???

2011-03-23T08:52:00.002-04:00

The girls have their first school dance coming up next month. And a boy asked Katie to go to the dance with him. Not just "any" boy, but the popular boy that all the 6th grade girls get all googly-eyed over....

She's feeling pretty special, and all the other girls in her class are jealous. Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that my little girls aren't so little anymore.

And trying to reassure Laura that it's okay that nobody has asked her yet. Of course she's happy for Katie, but I know she feels a little left out. I think that's one of the troubles with having two girls the same age, and it's something that "regular" families don't have to deal with - Laura and Katie are competing (I hate to use that word, but you know what I mean) over the same set of boys. "Regular" families have girls who are at least a year apart, so they each have their own pool of boys to choose from (possibly with some overlap in the middle). Being the same age, and in the same class, complicates things, I think. Especially when there are only a few desirable boys to go around, since the vast majority of 12-year old boys are notoriously dorky (I can say that with authority, because I was one of those dorky 12-year old boys once...now I'm 40 and still dorky, but that's an entirely different matter).

I don't know, maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but... 6th grade just seems WAY too young for kids to be worrying about who's going to the dance with whom. I guess they grow up faster now than when we were kids - I don't remember thinking about that stuff until high school, and by then the school dances were just an opportunity to sneak out behind the school with a girl and...oh, holy shit.

HELP! My girls are growing up! How do I make them stop???

Home is where the hurt is...

2011-03-11T14:29:00.006-05:00

Kind of a dark post today. Sorry - just trying to sort some stuff out.

I have mixed emotions when I think of my childhood. There were lots of good times, for sure. My mom was amazing, I had my brothers and sisters to play with, I had some great times with some wonderful friends. But there were also some very dark times in my childhood, and most of those dark times centered around my father.

There was never really any love between my father and me. There were times when we got along okay, but they were few and far between. I guess what I hated most was the way he treated my mom. I can remember being afraid and hiding in the closet when I was little, and listening to them fight. He would say such hurtful things to her - I didn't even know what some of the words meant at the time (I remember the "C" word being used a lot), but I knew his words were mean and intentionally hurtful, and I felt so sorry for my mom when he made her cry like that. I wanted to make him stop, but I didn't know how.

And he would hit her sometimes. I hated that sound. She would scream and cry and he would just keep yelling at her and hitting her, and calling her that awful, awful word. It was horrible. When I was 10 or 11, I got between them one time and tried to stop him from hitting her, and he beat the shit out of me. A few years later I got bigger and stronger, and I was finally able to fight him off and protect her. That's when things went down hill quickly between my father and me. Whenever he started yelling at my mom, I would jump right in and defend her, and he hated that. He learned pretty quickly not to hit her anymore when I was around, because by then I was big enough and strong enough that he couldn't get away with it anymore. He knew I would do whatever I had to to protect my mom.

The sick bastard tried to rape Jill when she was 14. She never reported it, because she was afraid nobody would believe her. She didn't have any proof, but I know she was telling the truth. She would never lie, especially about something like that. I almost killed him when Jill told me what had happened. She didn't want me to tell anyone, because she was afraid of what he might do to me. I would have killed him if she hadn't told me not to. But she just wanted to forget about it, and I respected her enough to comply with her wish. I still wish she would have reported it, though. Nobody should be allowed to get away with that.

But I'm glad I didn't kill him, because 5 years later he took care of that himself. I was 19 when he put a bullet through his head. For a long time I felt responsible for his suicide, because I had said some really horrible things to him that day. We had a huge fight and I told him exactly how I felt about him, then I left. And when I came back, he was dead. Maybe he did it to get back at me for what I said. Or maybe he did it because my words made him realize what a complete failure he had been as a father. Or maybe he just didn't want to live anymore, and I finally gave him the excuse he needed that day. I don't know. But I understand now that it wasn't my fault. He made the choice and pulled the trigger, not me. What a stupid, stupid man.

I didn't go to his funeral. I don't really remember why, I guess it was just my way of committing one final act of defiance against him. I guess I thought that by not going to his funeral I was somehow getting back at him for all the things he had said and done throughout my life. But what I didn't realize at the time was that by not going to his funeral, I was denying myself the chance to ever have any closure. Closure is a funny thing - I can't really define what it means. I can't really describe what it feels like to not have it. But I can't tell you what it would feel like to have it, either. Maybe it wouldn't feel any different at all, I don't know. All I can tell you is that not having closure is not a nice feeling. One day he was there, and the next day he just...wasn't there anymore. Maybe if I had gone to his funeral it would have given me some sense of finality or something, I don't know.

I went to his grave site today, which is what inspired me to write this post. It was Katie's idea, really - last week she asked me if I ever visit my father's grave, and I told her no, I haven't been there in a long time. She wanted to know why, so I just told her that my father and I weren't very close. I left it at that, because she doesn't need to know the rest. That led to a long talk about a lot of different things, and at the end of it all she told me I should go and visit his grave. She said maybe it would help me figure some things out. Smart girl - her insight into human emotions never fails to amaze me. She's a lot like her mom that way. And she's only 12.

I drive past that cemetery every day on my way home from work. The thought never really crosses my mind that he's buried there, and I never had any desire to stop in. I have been there a few times before, and I always come away with the same empty feeling. I don't feel anything there. I stare at his name on the stone, and even though his last name is the same as mine, I just don't feel any connection to it, or any kind of emotion at all. I've always wished I could feel something there - even anger would be okay - just to feel something. Indifference is a very cold and unsatisfying emotion. I just feel nothing. Apathy. I don't hate him, I don't love him, I don't feel anything at all towards him. I guess I just don't care anymore. He's gone, and that chapter of my life is closed.

But you know what I figured out today?

I think I forgive him. It's taken me 20 years to find the courage to say that, but I do. I forgive him. Forgiveness is hard, but that apathy thing I mentioned? That makes it easier, I guess. I think that's the price I have to pay for being able to forgive - to no longer feel anything towards him. The fact that I can stand at his grave and feel nothing can only mean that I've forgiven him. Otherwise I'd feel anger, or hate, or something, but I don't. I'm a completely different person now than I was when he was alive - maybe because the "old" me no longer exists, it's as if he never existed either, in my mind. I was reborn after he was dead - the "me" of today never knew him, and I never want to know him. He's gone. Good riddance. In the end, I think my life turned out pretty good, in spite of everything he did or didn't do as a father.

So dad, wherever you are...I forgive you. It took me 20 years and an insightful conversation with a 12-year old girl to figure that out. But I forgive you. And thanks for showing me who NOT to be when I grew up. Because of you, my girls have the kind of father I always wished I had.

Quick update on a bunch of random stuff...

2011-03-08T08:45:00.005-05:00

First, thank you all for your support with the school situation. I got comments and emails from many parents and students in the district expressing their support and gratitude, and that means a lot. Sorry I had to be so vague about the details, but there are certain very specific things that I can't mention on the blog in order to stay within the rules - everything else is fair game. Several people sent emails expressing concern about me getting into trouble over my involvement with this - rest assured, I have gone toe-to-toe with the school board many times in the past. They know I'm the kind of guy who tells it like it is and doesn't take any shit, and they know I'm one to make a lot of noise when I see something that isn't right, especially when it comes to my school. They might not like what I say, but they are the kind of people who will always respect my right to say it, and they know that when I speak on behalf of the kids I always have their best interests at heart. Oh, and I also heard something about a huge revolt among the students and parents if I ever get fired, so there's that too... ;)

I was even told, off the record and unofficially, by [someone in a position to do something about it] that I would make a great addition to the school board, and asked if I would consider it if a spot were to open up. As much as it would give me a chance to make a difference and help get the district headed back in the right direction, I wouldn't be able to teach and serve on the board at the same time (conflict of interest). And anything that takes me out of my classroom isn't something I'd want to do. They can fix this without me - they just have to want to.

...

In other news, Katie was chosen to sing the national anthem at one of the Boston Red Sox games in July. We don't have an exact date yet, but stay tuned. That will be another amazing experience for her to add to her growing list - singing in front of 40,000 people! Not to mention a chance to stand at home plate in Fenway Park, which is hallowed ground for baseball fans. Her father would have been so proud - he was the biggest Red Sox fan ever.

...

Laura won 2nd place at the county science fair, and now she moves on to the state competition. I usually try to steer her away from projects in the physics category, since it raises too many questions about who "really" did the project (given my area of expertise), but this year she wanted to do a project on electromagnetism. She built an electromagnet and performed a series of experiments and measurements of electromagnetic fields using various voltages and materials. Cool project. She now officially knows more about electromagnetism than I do. And no, I didn't help her with it, other than answering questions and pointing her in the right direction to get started with her research (and supplying a borrowed magnetometer for her measurements).

...

My brother Chris has decided to let me give him a kidney. If you recall from a few months ago, he was unwilling to let me donate because he was afraid I might need one someday for myself or one of my children. That's very noble and heroic of him, but it took a lot of convincing to get him to see that he needs one NOW, and it would be silly to save it for a "someday" that might never come. But just for a little perspective from his side of things, there is a very real possibility that my daughter Christina (who bears his name intentionally) will need a kidney transplant someday - her kidneys are only about 50% functional due to her premature birth, and the odds of one or both of them failing during her lifetime are well above average. I appreciate that Chris was thinking of her with his noble gesture, and I understand why he felt that I should save my kidney for her in case she ever needs it. So to put his mind at rest, we had Christina tested for a tissue match, and discovered that I'm not a good match for her anyway (but Jenny is). With that possibility ruled out, he is now willing to let me do this for him.

So anyway, he's going to stay on dialysis until June so I can finish out the school year, then we'll both check into the hospital in Boston and come out with matching scars. I'm told that the donor risk is minimal, so don't worry about me.

...

That's all for now. Sorry I haven't had much time for blogging lately.

Dear School Board...

2011-03-02T13:29:00.004-05:00

The following is a letter I wrote to the school board. I'm posting it here because I think it's important, even though it might ruffle a few feathers. I've omitted the parts that specifically address the issue at hand, because as a teacher there's a fine line between my personal blog and school business, and posting the specifics here would cross that line. The parts I'm posting here are about my personal feelings and how this affects me. The rest is between me and the school board. Those in the district know what this is about. Others will just have to use your imaginations. Text in [square brackets] has been edited for the blog.

...

Dear [School Board],

I'm writing to you today to address my ongoing concerns with the proposed [...introductory details omitted...].

I know that you have received countless letters and phone calls from parents in the district who are concerned about this. Time is running out, and those concerns seem to have fallen on deaf ears. So I'm sticking my neck out here and writing to you, not as a concerned parent, but as a teacher in this district. As a teacher, I'm on the front lines and I see these kids every single day; I hear their conversations in the hallways; they come to me after class and ask me what's going to happen if [this proposal passes]. This affects them in ways you can't possibly imagine. These kids are worried about the direction their school is headed, and that affects their concentration in the classroom, and consequently their ability to focus and learn. Yesterday I spent an entire class session answering questions and talking with my students about [this issue]. To me, that's a strong indication of just how worried these kids are about their school. I don't think you realize how much that matters.

[ ...details of the problem and proposed solution omitted... ]

These kids need to have a voice, and they don't. If they try to take a stand, or question the actions of the school board, they get labelled as troublemakers and reprimanded. If they try to point out the need for changes in their school and its policies, or suggest alternatives to [this proposal], they get brushed aside and told to stay out of the way. That's not what we should be teaching our kids. Instead, they should be given a forum in which to voice their concerns, and they should be commended for their initiative and willingness to stand up for something they believe in so strongly. They might not be legally classified as adults, but they still have rights - and among those is the right to speak up and be heard. Listen to them. They are the voices of change. They are the voices of reason and integrity. They are the voices that will lead us all into the future as they grow up and become the leaders of tomorrow. It's our job to make sure they are prepared for that role. And they are the ones who have everything to lose if we get this wrong.

I refuse to sit in silence and watch the school that I love slowly fall apart from the inside because of an administration that doesn't care, doesn't understand how much this matters, and isn't willing to do the hard work required to fix it. The system is broken, and we all know what the real problem is. But instead of addressing the problem, [this proposal] takes the easy way out, and our students will pay an unbearably high price for our failure to fix it. Fixing it requires difficult and painful choices, but there is no other way. This isn't about school officials keeping their jobs and board members getting reelected. It isn't about power, or budgets, or contracts, or finger-pointing, or territorial disputes. This is bigger than all of us. It's about these kids. Somewhere along the way, we've lost sight of the fact that their education is the reason we're all here. If we lose sight of that, then we've lost everything. The school board exists for the benefit of the students and their education - not for the benefit of the board members and their political allies.

You and the board are the only ones who have the power to fundamentally change this district for the better, and you need to understand what is at stake here. This isn't just a job, it's a monumental responsibility. We must do what is best for the students, even when doing so is difficult and painful. Teachers, administrators, board members, parents, and students - we're all in this together. We owe these kids the very best we can give them, and anything less is simply Not Good Enough.

If you take nothing else away from this letter, I want you to remember this: Every single student who walks through these doors is Somebody's Child. Every single one of them is just as important and valuable and precious as our own children, and should be treated that way. Nothing will change until we all understand that even one child falling through the cracks is One Too Many.

These kids are the future, and if we let them down, we all lose. I Will Not Let That Happen.

Sincerely,

Jeff D'Antonio
Chairman, Science Dept.
[ ... ] High School

A little disappointed, a little relieved, and generally okay...

2011-02-16T14:22:00.004-05:00

Katie's agent called yesterday with the news: She didn't get the part.

She got some really good feedback from the casting director. They basically said that her acting and singing were fantastic, but they were concerned about her age and relative lack of experience. The character starts out as a 12-year old and ages to 16 by the second act, and they said it's easier to make a 16-year old look like a 12-year old than the other way around. And given the importance of the role, they were hesitant to cast a 12-year old with so little professional experience.

Katie was very pleased to be told by a Broadway director that her acting and singing were "fantastic." But of course she's disappointed that they didn't think she could pull off playing a 16-year old. Personally, I think think she could have done a great job, but that's just my opinion. They're the ones with a show on the line, and they can't afford to take chances like that, so I can understand their hesitance.

But what an experience this was for her. Knowing what it takes just to get seen for a principal audition in a Broadway theater, that was a huge accomplishment in itself, and it gives her more credibility and experience for next time. She also got to meet some of the biggest names in the business, and get her name and talents out there for them to see. Plus, she got to sing on a Broadway stage! (even if it was only for an audience of 7). Unfortunately, she also got to learn what it feels like to totally nail an audition and still not get the part - but that's show biz, as they say, so I guess it's good for her to learn that now.

Anyway, Katie is okay. She tried to hold back the tears when we broke the news to her, but she did cry a little. Still, she knows what the future holds, and she's willing to wait for her turn. She might have been in over her head on this one, but she'll be back out there again. And one day you'll see her name in lights on a Broadway theater marquee, I don't doubt that for a second. Not one second.

Now we wait...

2011-02-14T09:42:00.003-05:00

Katie's audition went as well as we could have hoped. She sang her heart out, with so much feeling she had me in tears by the end. Then they had her read several challenging scenes from the script, which she did a great job on. The only part she struggled with was that they wanted her to speak with a Russian accent (the show is set in Moscow). She's been working on that, but she hasn't quite perfected it yet. She learned to do a pretty good British accent from her time in A Christmas Carol, so with a little coaching I have no doubt she could learn to sound Russian - but hopefully they got a good sense of what she's capable of, even if her accent wasn't quite perfect.

Katie looked so small on that huge Broadway stage. I stood and watched from the back of the theater while she sang, and all I could think about was the lost and lonely little girl who came to live with us five years ago, and how far she has come since then. The size of the stage made her petite frame seem even smaller, and she looked so profoundly alone up there, yet so confident and strong. As she moved about the stage and sang with all the grace and maturity of a Broadway veteran, I imagined Jill standing in the background cheering her on. How proud Jill would have been to see her little girl up there.

Broadway....there's just something magical about it. There's an electricity in the air, and you feel it as soon as you walk through the door to the theater. The stage, the lights, the curtains, all of it - there's so much history there. So many legendary performers have stood on that same stage, and you can't help but be humbled by the notion that you're standing on hallowed ground. The walls just seem to shout, "This is Broadway! This is the Big Time"...

Even after seeing Katie perform hundreds of times now, it still amazes me every time I see how she transforms into her character when she steps onto a stage. One minute she's our quiet and shy little Katie, and then she steps out there and just becomes someone else. It seems so natural for her, it doesn't seem like she's acting at all - I guess that's the essence of what makes a good actress, and it just comes naturally for some people. She cries real tears when she does an emotional scene; her eyes show a sincere happiness when she does a joyful scene; there's a genuineness about her when she interacts with the other characters on stage that seems as real and natural as her genuineness in real life. She's that good. When she's on stage, she is her character. There's an elusive quality that theater people call "stage presence" - no one can really define what it is, and you can't really teach it, but you know it when you see it. Some people have it, and some people don't. Katie has it.

We're still trying our best to keep her feet on the ground. She wants this more than she's ever wanted anything in her life, but she knows she's up against the best of the best in the world. She understands that rejection goes with the territory, and it's just something you have to get used to when you go into theater, but I just know how heartbroken she'll be if she doesn't get this one. She wants this so much.

But no matter what happens, what an unforgettable experience this is for her.

Meanwhile, I'm kind of terrified that she will get it. There's no doubt in my mind that she's destined for greatness in her life, but is it too soon? Is she ready? I've been around this game long enough now to know what happens to young performers who get thrown to the sharks unprepared.

Terrified, holding our breath, and waiting with hearts full of hope...

Callback!!

2011-02-11T08:44:00.003-05:00

Katie was called back for a second audition! We're off to New York again this weekend.

OMG ... *deep breath* ... as much as she wants this, and as much as I want her to realize her dream, suddenly I'm scared out of my mind.

If she gets the part, everything will change. Everything.

And if she doesn't, she'll be crushed. We've done our best to keep her grounded, and she knows her chances are slim - but to come this close to her dream...it's going to hurt if she doesn't get it, there's no doubt about that.

At this point, I'm not really sure which outcome I'm hoping for.

I have no idea how many other girls got callbacks. In her past auditions, a callback usually meant they had narrowed the field down to 3 or 4 candidates, but this is Broadway, so things might be different there - top 10, maybe? Top 20? 50? I dunno.

Think about Katie on Saturday, and send some good vibes in her general direction, will you? (11:00AM NY time)

Another day in the life of a Search and Rescue volunteer...

2011-02-06T16:58:00.009-05:00

A few years ago I wrote a post about A Day In The Life Of A Search And Rescue Volunteer. That one did not have a happy ending, and I promised one day I would write about one that did. When I got home this morning after an overnight SAR operation, Jenny reminded me about that promise and told me I should write about this one. So here it is.

...

My SAR pager went off around 1:30 in the morning. The report was that a car had slid off the road and rolled down into a ravine. Conventional rescue was unable to get to the car because of the steep terrain and winter storm conditions, so my team was called in to assist - mountain and ravine rescues are our specialty. When we arrived, we found the car upside-down at the bottom of a 150-foot ravine. We were advised that the police had been notified by a witness who saw the car go off the road, and that there had been no direct contact with the occupants. Injuries and number of occupants unknown.

It was snowing at blizzard rates, and it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of us, so we couldn't get a good look at the terrain below. We rigged our rappelling equipment and started down the steep embankment, not sure what we might encounter along the way - and dreading what we might find in the car when we got there. It took us about 20 minutes to reach the bottom.

When we got there, the car was empty.

There was blood on the passenger side door, so we surmised that there were likely two victims. From the fact that they were able to leave the scene, we knew they were conscious and mobile, but judging by the amount of blood in the car, we guessed that there were some fairly serious injuries.

Having just come down the side of the ravine, we were certain that no one could have climbed up there without ropes and climbing equipment, so we knew they must have headed in the other direction. That would have taken them further into the ravine and deeper into the national forest land - they surely didn't know it, but there was no road in that direction for at least 50 miles.

It was still snowing hard, so any tracks in the snow had long been covered up. We radioed back to Incident Command that we needed a dog unit to help with the search. We also gave them the licence number from the car so the police could find the owner and possibly id the victims. Then we started off into the blizzard, searching the nearby area while we waited for the dogs to arrive.

If you've never seen search and rescue dogs in action, it really is an amazing sight. In this case, the bleeding victim made the dogs' job much easier. Their handler pointed them to the blood in the car so they could get the scent, then they started off, noses to the ground, down into the woods. They would stop occasionally and dig in the snow, presumably to get a better scent from a drop of blood buried by the falling snow.

They lost the scent a few times and had to backtrack, but once they found it again they led us deeper and deeper into the forest. I've worked with these dogs many times before, and they're very good at what they do. At times it seemed as though they were leading us on a wild goose chase, but I was confident that they knew exactly where they were going.

After about 30 minutes we got a call over the radio. The police had traced the vehicle to its owner, contacted the family, and knew the names of the victims. A teenage boy and girl. Students at MWHS... MY students.

Suddenly the search took on a new sense of urgency for me.

We followed the dogs deeper and deeper into the woods, until they lost the scent at the river. At that point we knew we had to be close. There was nowhere to go except across the river or back the way we came, and we doubted they would have tried crossing the river at that point. They had to be somewhere nearby. The dogs sniffed the air. The wind was swirling in all directions, and they couldn't find a scent. We separated the dogs and went in two groups, checking in caves and under outcroppings. Nothing.

Guessing that they might have backtracked and then turned down a different path that the dogs had missed, we headed back the way we came, keeping the dogs on either side of the original track. That way one of them would intersect the trail if it led off in another direction. Sure enough, one of the dogs picked up the scent and started heading east. We followed.

Dawn was just beginning to break, and the snow was finally coming to an end, when the dogs suddenly stopped in their tracks. They both sniffed the air for a moment, then started barking and running to the north. Apparently the wind had shifted in just the right direction and they picked up a scent in the air. We did our best to keep up, but the dogs had to keep stopping to wait for us. They ran ahead, staying just within sight. Finally they stopped near a rock outcropping.

And in the dim light of dawn, we saw them. Taking shelter under the rock ledge, we could see two people waving their arms and shouting in our direction.

C had a concussion and was bleeding from her forehead and leg, and M had a few cuts and bruises, but they were otherwise okay. We radioed to operations that we found them, and gave them a status report. They radioed back, relaying a message from the two families: "Thanks."

We did some quick first aid on the spot, then put C onto a stretcher. M walked out under his own power. We rope-lifted them up the ravine, where they were reunited with their families.

As C was lifted into the ambulance, her mother approached my team and said, "I don't know how to thank you." We just smiled and told her that the dogs did most of the work. She hugged each of us, and wouldn't let go.

And that's why we do what we do.

Zero-tolerance makes zero sense

2011-01-26T10:20:00.008-05:00

The school district I teach in has a zero-tolerance policy regarding drugs and weapons. Any student found on school property in possession of any type of weapon or drug is immediately and automatically suspended, and reassigned to a special school for kids with disciplinary problems. There is no wiggle room in the policy, and it is blindly enforced the same way in all cases, without regard for the individual circumstances.

I understand the need for a strong weapons policy, and I'm all in favor of tough discipline for kids who need it. Bringing a weapon to school has to be taken very seriously, and we need to do all we can to keep our students safe. Same goes for illegal drugs and alcohol (although I believe counseling is more effective than punishment). I'm okay with a policy that removes habitual troublemakers from our classrooms, because they interfere with the ability of the rest of the kids to learn.

But zero-tolerance goes too far.

Last week, a student was suspended and reassigned for having a pocket knife in his backpack. He's a Boy Scout, and he accidentally left the knife in his backpack after a weekend trip with the scouts. He opened his backpack and the knife fell out in plain sight, right in front of the assistant Principal. The zero tolerance policy was invoked, and the student was reassigned to the alternative school for problem kids. He's a good kid, an honor student, and a Boy Scout (an Eagle scout, in fact). I've known this kid for years, I know him well, and I know he would never hurt anyone. It is clear that he didn't bring the knife on purpose, and it is clear that no one was ever in any danger, and every member of this faculty and administration knows that. But it doesn't matter. Zero tolerance means he gets removed from the school. Period. This kid won't survive at the alternative school, surrounded by criminals and troublemakers. He doesn't belong there, and his education will be forever compromised because of it.

It's not the first time something like this has happened here. Two years ago a girl was suspended for having a bottle of Tylenol in her locker. Tylenol. Yes, there is a clear policy, and yes, she violated the rules, but...it's Tylenol. Does anybody really think a suspension and drug counseling is necessary in that case? Of course not. But the zero-tolerance policy makes it mandatory.

What message are we sending these kids? You earn respect and compliance by making sensible rules and enforcing them using good judgement; you don't earn respect by making stupid rules and enforcing them with an iron fist. One of the main goals of education should be to teach kids how to function in a society. All we're teaching them here is that society makes stupid rules and enforces them blindly - that doesn't teach them anything useful, it just makes them angry and bitter. The surest way to turn a good kid into a bad one? Give him a good reason to be angry and bitter, and then place him in an alternative school environment surrounded by kids who will teach him how to act on his anger and bitterness.

Kids make mistakes. The goal should be to teach them how to use their mistakes and turn them around - a discipline policy based on teaching, not punishing. And that's why zero tolerance is stupid.

Because you see, one of the cool things about being human is that we have the ability to examine any given situation and apply reasoning and judgement to come to a logical conclusion, and act accordingly. That's the most fundamentally human ability we have, it's what makes us different from all the other animals on the planet. Reasoning and judgement. Zero-tolerance policies take that away from us.

If I "catch" an honor student with a bottle of Tylenol in her locker, I should be able to apply some basic reasoning and come to the conclusion that, "gee, maybe she has a headache." On the other hand, if I find a stoner with a history of discipline problems with a bag of weed in his backpack, I should be able to use my judgement and common sense to conclude that this is a situation requiring attention. Under zero-tolerance, both students would be sent directly to the discipline office, where both would be dealt with in the exact same way. They've taken the decision to act or not act out of the hands of teachers and administrators, and given it over to a line item in a rulebook. It's yet another example of checklist education, and I don't want any part of it. I don't need a zero tolerance policy to make my decisions for me, thank you very much.

Zero tolerance policies are a way for school officials to avoid the responsibility of making hard decisions. The examples above are pretty straightforward cases, and the right thing to do should be obvious to anyone. Where it gets more difficult is when you have "gray areas". If instead of an honor student with a pocket knife, it was a problem student with a hunting knife and a history of violence, then the decision gets a little harder. That's when judgement and reasoning are required, and the administration doesn't want to be responsible for being wrong. So they fall back on zero tolerance - by taking the decision out of the hands of the school and its administration, they get to duck the responsibility and instead point to a rule book. Right or wrong, they get to say, "Look, we were just following the policy."

Cowards.

I've spent much of the last week going to bat for my student and trying to talk some sense into this administration on his behalf. Have you ever had a conversation with a brick wall? Yeah, it's a lot like that. Only a million times more frustrating, because a brick wall doesn't keep saying stuff like "That's the policy, and there's nothing we can do."

Bullshit. Change the policy, because it's stupid and wrong. It punishes good students who make mistakes, and treats them like criminals. And it fails to teach problem students about responsibility and judgement, because there is no responsibility or judgement involved in the process. This is a broken system. It's hurting our students and helping no one, and it needs to be fixed.

And by the way, a pocket knife is a tool, not a weapon. I carry one all the time, and it even saved my life once. Anything can be used as a weapon, but it's not a weapon unless someone uses it as one. Should we ban pencils from our schools too? Those sharp points can be deadly in the wrong hands, after all. And what about paper? You can give someone a nasty paper cut with that stuff. Textbooks? You could hit someone over the head with a text book. Dangerous weapons, all of them. Any student caught with these items should be treated like a criminal, don't you think?

Zero-tolerance is stupid and wrong, and has no place in our schools. Period.

Moving on...

2011-01-17T08:54:00.010-05:00

Katie and I drove to New York City for her audition over the weekend. We left Friday afternoon and stayed until Sunday. I can give you a little more information about it now, but it's still under NDA so I can't say too much. The part she's auditioning for is the lead role in a new Broadway musical. They're looking for a girl between the ages of 12 and 16 to play the part of a young girl growing up in cold-war era Moscow. I've read the script, and it is a truly beautiful and inspiring story, and the music is incredible. It was written by [sorry, not allowed to say - but you've heard of him if you know anything at all about Broadway musicals] and produced by [can't tell you that either - but it's one of the biggest names in the business].

Katie is up against the best young performers in the world for this part. There are no open auditions for the key roles - they are by invitation only, and her agent had the right connections to get her in the door. ("Her agent"...wow, I still can't get used to saying that...). She's at the young end of the age range, but with the right hair and makeup she can look 16 if she needs to; and of course she can sing like a 25 year old, so I don't think her age is a problem. I'm told that casting directors often prefer to cast younger actors for a potentially long running show like this anyway, because they don't want to have to replace them when they start looking too old for the part.

Katie's audition went wonderfully. She sang like an angel as always, then she read a few scenes for the acting audition and performed a few basic ballet moves for the dance audition (the show doesn't require a lot of dancing, but they wanted to be sure she could follow some basic choreography steps). I think she did an amazing job, under a lot of pressure, in an environment that's both unfamiliar and a bit overwhelming - this is Broadway! I was a little overwhelmed myself, so you can imagine what she was feeling.

But of course she's only one of many, and the others auditioning are just as talented and likely have more experience than she does, so it's still a long shot. I don't know when we'll hear back from them - this show is still early in planning, and it may be a few months before they have all the key roles cast. They won't make a final decision until they have all the parts in place, so we'll just need to be patient for awhile.

Even if she doesn't get the part, the audition alone was an experience she'll never forget. She got to stand on a Broadway stage and sing! How cool is that?? And she got to meet and perform for a well known writer, director, and producer - some of the biggest names in the business. This was a chance of a lifetime for her. Of course there's also a part of me that's a little scared about her taking such a huge step so early - if it comes through, it will change all of our lives forever. But an opportunity like this doesn't come along every day. This is her dream.

Catching up...

2011-01-03T16:28:00.002-05:00

Lots going on, and not much time to blog about it. Here's a quick update.

Our Sgt. Jason was here to visit us over the holidays. He arrived on December 23rd and stayed until the 29th. It was a pleasure to finally meet Jason face-to-face, and to shake the hand of one of our soldiers. We took him to hear Katie sing on Christmas Eve, and it was a beautiful moment to see one of the bravest and strongest of US Marines reduced to tears. He has heard her sing before (Katie sent him a copy of her cd when he was in Iraq), but hearing her live is a completely different experience. He said he couldn't believe that such a powerful voice came from such a small girl.

Christmas day we all went to visit with my extended family at my sister's house. Sgt. Jason got to meet my brother Chris, and they traded war stories about Iraq. The different branches of the military are known for their friendly rivalry, and Army and Marines often poke fun at each other - but it is interesting to note that the rivalry evaporates completely once they go into combat. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines - they all treat each other like brothers when it counts. Jason's respect for Chris and his sacrifice was evident that day, and I was proud to be a witness to it. More about Chris below.

The day after Christmas we took Jason to see Katie's play. We met some friends for dinner after the show, and introduced Jason to our lovely (and single!) friend Megan. They hit it off and exchanged email and phone numbers. We went skiing in Attitash on Monday, did some hiking and sightseeing on Tuesday, and said our goodbyes on Wednesday. We look forward to getting together with Jason again in the future, and we wish him well in his next tour of duty, wherever that may be. It was a wonderful experience for all of us.

In other news, my brother Chris needs a kidney transplant. His one remaining kidney is failing, and he is now on dialysis. All of our siblings and other relatives have been tested, and my tissue type turns out to be a perfect match. But Chris won't let me donate one of mine. He says I should hang onto both of my kidneys in case I or one of my children need it someday. Very brave of him, but I really wish he would reconsider. If not, he'll have to go on the national donor list and wait up to five years for his name to come up. He can live on dialysis indefinitely, but that would be a horrible way to live for the next five years. Chris, I have two healthy kidneys, and I only need one. Please please, let me do this for you. You're my brother. I would give you BOTH kidneys if I could.

I have some very big news about Katie, but I can't share the details yet. All I can say for now is that she has an audition next week. It's in New York City, and if she gets the part it will change her life forever. Sorry I can't say more, but we are bound by a non-disclosure agreement for now. The production is still in the early planning stages, and we're trying not to get ahead of ourselves since she will be competing against the best in the world for this part. This is a huge role, in a huge production, by a huge producer, and it's a great honor just to be invited for an audition. It's a long shot, but anything can happen - so wish her luck. More details in a future post, when the NDA is lifted.

That's all for now. It's been a busy couple of weeks, and it's going to get busier. I'll post as time permits.

The most beautiful Christmas gift ever

2010-12-20T09:04:00.008-05:00

Well, a few days ago I wrote this post, and I've been feeling a little down ever since. I didn't think Katie understood how much she meant to us. I didn't think she understood that our love for her was as unconditional and real as if she were our child by birth. And I felt like I had let her down, because I didn't think I had done enough to make her understand how much a part of our family she is, and what being a family is all about.

I was wrong. She does understand it. All of it.

Jenny and I weren't sure what to expect last night when Katie told us that she wanted to give us our Christmas gift a little early. She said it was something very special that she made for us, and she didn't want to wait until Christmas morning. She said she wanted us to have it now, to make up for what happened last week, and to show us how much we mean to her.

When she opened her guitar case, I thought at first that she had hidden her gift in there. But then she took out her guitar and sat down on the floor with it, and I knew that her gift was really going to be something amazing.

She wrote us a song!

It's the most beautiful song I've ever heard. Ever. Katie wrote the words, and Rachel, the choral director from the theater, helped her write the music - apparently they've been working on it backstage whenever she had downtime between scenes. She's been working on it since July.

Anyway, I'm still kind of speechless, so I'll just let Katie's words speak for themselves. We don't have a recording of it yet, but we will get it recorded as soon as we can. You will cry when you hear her sing it. In the meantime, here are her lyrics.

...

Soft Landing
Words by Katie Gaines-D'Antonio
Music by Rachel Guthry and Katie Gaines-D'Antonio
Copyright © 2010
---------------

I was six years old and all alone
Way too young to know
It wasn't her choice to go
Sad, confused, and broken
Feelings left unspoken
'Til you lifted me up and took my hand
And gave me a safe place to land

Thank you
Thank you

You took my broken wings and taught me how to fly
You took my broken heart and taught me how to cry
And through my tears I found my way,
Found my voice,
Come what may
A place to call my home

And a soft landing
A soft landing
A place to run, a place to hide
Someone who knows how I feel inside
You've been there for me always in all ways
You gave me a soft landing
A soft landing

I know your heart was broken too
But you found the strength to pull me through
For all the times you held me when I cried
And when I didn't know what I felt inside
Thanks for listening to my heart with yours
For giving me a home,
A place to grow, to call my own

And a soft landing
A soft landing
A place to run, a place to hide
Someone who knows what I feel inside
You've always been there for me
You've always been there with me
You gave me everything I have,
But most of all, a soft landing

You promised her you'd always be
On my side and here for me
And I want you to know
That everywhere I go
It's your love that got me there
I carry it with me everywhere
And in my heart I'll always know
That love is all around
And in this loving home I found
A soft landing.

Thank you
Thank you

For a soft landing

Still broken sometimes...

2010-12-17T16:20:00.006-05:00

Katie is really struggling with Christmas this year. She always gets a little sad around Christmas time, but this year seems harder than usual for some reason. Maybe it's because she's growing up, and she's more in touch with her emotions now, or more able to process them fully. Or maybe she's just finding another missing piece of her broken heart. Either way, there's a sadness in her eyes that's been there since the beginning of December, and I only wish I could find the words to tell her that it's okay, and that Christmas won't always be like this for her. It's heartbreaking to see a child so sad at Christmas time.

She tries hard to capture the spirit of Christmas - she helps with the decorations, she helps bake the cookies and wrap the presents, she's always singing Christmas songs around the house - but behind her eyes, I can always see that her heart just isn't in it. And sometimes, when a certain song comes on the radio, or there's a certain smell in the air, or something else comes along that reminds her of her mom, she just breaks down and cries.

We have an angel that sits on the top of our Christmas tree. Jill made it a few years before she died, and we brought it here along with some other special ornaments and decorations when Katie joined our family. Christmas is a time so filled with family traditions, and when Katie came to live with us we wanted to try to blend her traditions with ours, so that she could hold on to a little bit of the Christmas spirit she knew before. The angel on top of the tree is one of those traditions, and every year Katie gets to be the one to climb the ladder and put the angel on top of the tree. It's always the very last thing to go on the tree, and then we plug in the lights and we all sit around our newly decorated tree and sing Christmas carols.

Last night, as we lit our tree and started to sing, Katie suddenly broke down and cried. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she didn't know, she just felt like crying. I know her well enough to know that when that happens, there's nothing I can do or say. So I just hold her close and let her cry on my shoulder until the tears eventually stop.

"I miss her so much," Katie said, wiping away her tears. "It's been almost 5 years, why does it still hurt so much?"

"Because you love her," was the only answer I could come up with. I knew it was completely inadequate, but I didn't know what else to say. "And because it's Christmas. Christmas is hard," I added.

"Christmas isn't supposed to be hard. It isn't supposed to be sad, it's supposed to be beautiful and happy and joyful," she cried, as her tears started again with renewed strength.

Then she said the words that broke my heart into a billion pieces:

"I'm sorry I always ruin Christmas for you guys."

My heart stopped when I heard those words. My heart stopped because those words meant that she doesn't understand - she doesn't understand how much we love her, and she doesn't understand that she could never EVER ruin Christmas for us, because she is part of us. And I need her to understand that. I need her to understand that she is so much a part of our family that when she hurts, we all hurt with her, but that doesn't ruin Christmas because Christmas is a time for remembering what it means to be a family. And yeah, sometimes being a family means crying and hurting and grieving together, but that's what love is all about. And LOVE is what Christmas is all about. I have to find a way to make her understand that. Because if she doesn't understand that, then I haven't done my job. And if I haven't done my job, then I've let her down, and I promised her mother on her death bed that I would never ever let her down.

It's another little reminder of how broken her little heart still is, and what a long and hard road she travels.

Katie's father

2010-12-13T15:02:00.004-05:00

I don't talk about him very much on my blog.

Katie was only 3 years old when her father was killed in a car accident. That was 8 years ago today. She remembers the accident, and she still has nightmares about it sometimes, but she doesn't remember very much about her father. Jill always tried to keep his memory alive in her, and since taking her into our family, Jenny and I have tried our best to do the same. But time has taken its toll. To Katie, her father has become little more than a distant shadow of a man she once knew, and some faded pictures in an old photo album.

Glenn Patrick Gaines was the oldest of two brothers. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts on June 19, 1970. His brother and both parents were killed in a plane crash in 1993, leaving him with no surviving family except for a few distant cousins he had never met. He and Jill met at an art exhibition shortly after that. Jill was the only surviving member of her family too, so they shared an immediate connection - they both understood what it was like to feel completely alone in the world. Their relationship grew and blossomed quickly, and I knew as soon as I met Glenn that he was the one for her. Jill and I often joked about how I knew it before either of them did, but I always said I could see it in their eyes. The way they looked at each other told me everything I needed to know.

He was a good man, and he always treated her well. Jill deserved the best, and she got it. He was a good husband and a loving father, and he always put his family first. I told him on their wedding day that I couldn't have picked a better man for my best friend to share her life with. He knew I wouldn't have said that unless I meant it, and I did. I knew he loved her with all his heart, and he made her happy, and that was good enough for me.

The night of the accident, Glenn was taking Katie to her dance class. When they didn't come home as scheduled, Jill started to worry. Then there was a knock at the door, and when she saw the police officer standing there, she knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. The officer told her what had happened, and drove her to the hospital. Glenn died before she got there. Katie had only a few minor cuts and bruises, a testament to the merits of child safety seats, but her emotional scars were deep and permanent.

The car had slid off the road and rolled upside-down into a ditch. Still trapped in her seat, young Katie sat terrified and screaming, while her unconscious father slowly bled to death before her eyes. We don't know exactly how long it was before another motorist drove by and saw the car in the ditch, but police estimate that it was at least 45 minutes. Maybe if someone had come by sooner, things might have ended differently. I can't begin to imagine the horror Katie went through for those 45 minutes. She still wakes up screaming sometimes at night when she relives it in her dreams. As she grows older, the memories have become less vivid and more abstract, but she remembers. You don't ever forget something like that.

And I'll never forget the sound of Jill's voice when she called me from the hospital that night. "Glenn is dead," she cried, her voice trembling with unimaginable grief. I had to ask her to repeat it, because I didn't think I heard her right. "Glenn is dead," came her tearful reply. I almost dropped the phone. When I got to the hospital, the look in Jill's eyes was unlike anything I had ever seen before. A part of her had died. In the blink of an eye, her life had changed forever.

As always on this anniversary day, I took Katie to visit his grave. Jill is buried in the same cemetery, but they aren't next to each other. Had we known that we'd be burying Jill just 3 years later, she could have reserved the adjacent plot, but you don't think of things like that at the time.

Katie always brings something to put next to his grave - sometimes a drawing or a card she has made, or some flowers. This time she brought a little Red Sox flag and stuck it in the ground next to his stone. Glenn grew up in Boston, just a few blocks away from Fenway Park, and he was a huge Red Sox fan. Katie has a picture of him from when she was a tiny baby, he's holding her in one arm, and waving a Red Sox pennant with the other. He waited his whole life to see the Sox win a World Series, and they finally did it in 2004, the year after he died. I've always suspected he had a hand in that, somehow.

We stayed at his grave for a time, then I went back and waited in the Jeep while Katie walked over to Jill's grave and sat for awhile. She talks to her mom out loud when she's there. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I could see that they were having a serious talk. After a few minutes, she got up and walked back to the parking area where I was waiting. She got in the Jeep and closed the door, and I could see that she had been crying. I asked her if she was okay, and she just nodded her head and looked out the window. I knew from experience that meant she was still processing her thoughts, and she would talk to me about it when she was ready. We started toward home in silence.

After a few minutes, she turned to me and said, "You're my dad. You're the only dad I know. Why don't I feel anything when I visit his grave, but when I visit my mom I feel like she's there with me?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I have felt the same feeling at Jill's grave - the feeling that she's there - I wrote about it here and here. I feel her presence there, and I feel like she's listening to me when I talk to her, so I know exactly what Katie means by that. To me, it's that "connection" thing that I wrote about before. That connection I had with Jill was never broken, even in death. Katie has that too. With Jill. But she doesn't have it with her dad, because she never really had a chance to know him. And that's why she doesn't feel anything at his grave.

But how do I explain that to a girl who just wants more than anything to feel a connection to the dad she never really knew?

I didn't know what to say. So I pulled over to the side of the road and just held her while she cried on my shoulder.

I never wanted to take his place. I never wanted to be the only dad she knows. I just tried to give her a place to call home, and someone to lean on, and to be there to catch her when she falls.

But then, I guess that's kind of what dads do, isn't it...

A brief rant about corporate responsibility...

2010-12-09T08:06:00.006-05:00

Okay, bear with me here, I need to rant.

For decades, firefighters and other emergency personnel have relied on radio communications to keep us safe and effective during emergency operations. As a volunteer firefighter, the single most important tool I carry with me into a burning building is my radio. If I get into trouble, it can save my life. And if it fails, I can die. It's that simple.

The radios have changed over the years, and the technology has evolved, but the underlying principle has remained essentially the same - analog voice communications modulated over a base carrier frequency. Simple, effective, and reliable - three things you want in any system that your life depends on. Unfortunately, that is changing. Those simple, effective, and reliable systems are being replaced by a new technology - digital radios that rely on a computer to log and retransmit their signals over a network of hubs and routers.

Two years ago, the emergency services board for our county purchased a new radio system. The system was designed by...well, I'll just call them "unnamed radio manufacturer" ([URM] for short) - I don't want their lawyers coming after me, as there is ongoing litigation and I probably shouldn't write about this until that's been resolved. The system was touted as being a state-of-the-art comm system, providing secure and seamless digital communications between central dispatch, firefighters, police, paramedics, and search and rescue. It was supposed to revolutionize communications among emergency workers.

It didn't.

In a word, the new system sucks. It sucks so badly that we've now resorted to carrying both the new digital radios AND our old analog radios as a backup for when the new system fails to perform as advertised. When does it fail to perform as advertised? Any time there's an emergency, of course - as a general rule, an emergency invariably leads to an increase in radio communications, which quickly overloads the digital system and renders it completely useless. In other words, the system is literally guaranteed to fail at the exact times when we need it most.

The county spent $15 million on this system, and I believe [URM] intentionally designed it to fail. Yes, you read that right - I believe they intentionally designed the system to fail. Now, of course I don't think their intent was malicious - it's not like they were trying to get police and firefighters killed - but I believe the intentional failure was financially motivated. I believe they sold the county just enough equipment to get the system up and running, locking us into their proprietary product line, while knowing all along that the system would need a massive upgrade before it would be useful. The county would never have gotten the necessary funding up front to cover the cost of a system with sufficient capacity. [URM] knew that, and they also knew that once we discovered the system lacked the capacity to handle emergency comms, the county would have no choice but to buy the upgrades, or lose the initial $15 million investment. Best of all, the system is completely proprietary, so they knew there would be no competition for the upgrade. The county would have no choice but to purchase the additional equipment from [URM], giving them complete control over pricing and other contract terms. Brilliant marketing on the part of [URM], at the expense of safety for our police and firefighters, and millions of taxpayer dollars.

So now our county needs to fund an additional $15 million for upgrades just to make the system usable. And even that might not be enough. Meanwhile, our police and firefighters are in danger every time we go out there, because when we get into a jam, our radios are what we need to get us out of it. And our radios suck.

And it's not just us. I've heard similar stories from firefighters and police officers all over the US, and in other parts of the world. The story always follows the same pattern - a proprietary, under-sized system that fails under pressure, followed by massive upgrades to make it usable. And the common thread in these stories always seems to be [URM]. They are stealing money from taxpayers, and they are putting lives at risk.

This all came to the forefront when we almost lost one of our firefighters last week when a stairway collapsed, leaving him injured and trapped inside a building. A Mayday call went out on the radio, but the call never came through. His partner had to exit the building to go get help, leaving him alone inside, and delaying his rescue by a full three minutes. Three minutes is an eternity inside a burning building. He was lucky - we got to him in time, he survived, and his injuries were minor - but it could have been much worse. I credit his partner with saving his life, by doing what needed to be done in the face of the radio failure. After that incident, we instituted a new policy which we will now follow indefinitely - we must carry both our old radios and our new ones with us whenever we go inside a building. When I enter a fire, I have enough to think about - I don't want to have to think about whether or not my radio will work if I need it.

So, to the [URM] sales rep, who came away from this deal (and probably many others like it) with a big commission check, all I have to say is this: If your home ever catches fire and your family is in danger, you better hope that the firefighters on the scene can hear each other on their radios. Because if they can't, they might not be able to do their jobs. And if they can't do their jobs, your family might die. Was that big fat commission check really worth it?

Rant mode off. Over and ou....

O Holy Night...

2010-12-03T08:25:00.007-05:00

Here is Katie singing O Holy Night. Those who've been around here for awhile heard this one back in May when I posted about her recording session in the studio, but I thought I'd post it again since it's more in season now.

O Holy Night

Performed by Katie Gaines-D'Antonio, Copyright © 2010.
Instrumental accompaniment © 2007 Blue Grotto Music, used by permission.
Not for profit or redistribution

This song means so much to all of us, and especially to Katie. I told the story here once before, but I'll tell it again in case you missed it:

...

As you know, Katie got her amazing voice from her mom. When Jill was ten years old, she was asked to sing O Holy Night for the Christmas Eve service at her church. Just like Katie, she had a spectacular voice for someone so young, and she brought the congregation to their knees with her emotionally stirring performance. After that first time, it became an annual tradition, repeated every year for the rest of her life.

Word travels fast in the small towns around here, and as Jill grew up and her voice matured and got better and better, people started coming from all around on Christmas Eve just to hear her sing that song. She really was that good. I would sit in the church and listen to her sing, with chills running up and down my spine, and I would look around at the standing-room-only crowd and watch their faces as Jill's beautiful voice resonated through the church. She had a way of singing that song that would just reach right into your soul and grab you by the heart and not let go. You could see it in the eyes of everyone who heard her sing.

2005 was Jill's last Christmas. She knew she was dying, and she knew it was likely to be be her last. She bravely stood up there, her head bald from chemotherapy, scars and bandages still fresh from surgery, with tears streaming down her face, and she sang O Holy Night with all her heart. Everyone present knew what she was going through, and such incredible beauty and strength in the face of such horrible circumstances was inspirational. The emotional impact of that night is burned into my memory forever.

The year after she died, the church recognized Jill's absence with a 4 minute silence during the Christmas Eve service, while the organist played the accompaniment without her. It was a sad but beautiful moment, as we all imagined Jill singing down from Heaven in a voice that only angels could hear.

Last year, as word had gotten around that Katie is blessed with her mother's voice, they asked if she would like to pick up Jill's tradition on Christmas Eve. She enthusiastically agreed, and she literally blew the doors off the church that night. There was not a dry face in the building by the time she was done singing. This year she'll be doing it again, and every year for as long as she is willing and able.

So once again, if you hear angels singing off in the distance on Christmas Eve, do not be alarmed - it's just a young girl with an angelic voice singing O Holy Night, with her mom and a choir of angels filling in the chorus behind her.

Thankfulness...

2010-11-25T11:59:00.004-05:00

I wanted to write a new Thanksgiving post this year, but between Katie's shows and all the excitement over Laura's heroics, I just haven't found the time - so here is a repost from last year.

100 things I'm thankful for:

Jenny, the love of my life. She is my soul mate, my best friend, and my compass. She is my source of inspiration. She is my rock. She is the beacon that guides me when I can't find my way. She is my heartbeat. Her unconditional love and support sustain me always.

Laura, Katie, and Christina. My girls. People have pondered the meaning of life for centuries, but they've all been looking in the wrong place. I have found it. My girls are my life. They are the reason I get up in the morning, and the reason for each and every breath I take.

My mom. She made me who I am.

My dad. Even though we didn't get along, I wouldn't be here without him.

My brothers. Always there when I need them.

My sisters. Always there when I need them.

My friends. I can count my closest friends on one hand. These are the people I would die for if I had to, and I know they would do the same for me. I choose my friends carefully, and I don't use the word "friend" lightly. If I call you my friend, it means something.

Sunrises. Each one represents a new day, a new chance to live and breathe and think and feel.

Sunsets. An ending, but the promise of a new beginning tomorrow.

Trees. Representing shade, strength, life, and renewal.

Walks in the woods.

Angels. They exist. I have personally known at least two of them.

Second chances.

Every breath I take, and every beat of my heart.

Sobriety.

Spaghetti and meatballs.

Dreams. And making them come true.

Music. Beautiful songs that speak directly to my soul.

My guitar.

Climbing to the summit of a remote mountain, standing there and looking out at the view knowing that I'm one of only a handful of people in the entire history of the world who have ever seen the view from that particular spot.

The goals I've accomplished. They give me something to look back on and be proud of.

The goals I have yet to accomplish. They give me something to look forward to and strive for.

Laughter. It really is the best medicine.

Tears. They wash away our sorrows and give us a means to express our strongest emotions when words are completely inadequate.

Living in the most beautiful place on Earth, with 800,000 acres of national forest land for a back yard.

Being a teacher.

Being a father, a husband, a brother, a son, a grandson, an uncle, a nephew, a cousin, and a friend. And playing each of those roles to the best of my ability.

Spring.

Summer.

Autumn.

Winter.

Stars.

Sunshine.

The old man I once met while hiking on the Appalachian Trail. He was about 80 years old, hiking alone, and he stopped and ate lunch with me. He told me to live life every day until it kills me. I never saw him again after that, but I've never forgotten his words of wisdom.

Thunderstorms.

The sound of rain on the roof.

Sex.

Lakes. Nowhere is nature's beauty more apparent than in its glassy reflection upon the surface of a still mountain lake.

Rivers and streams. The calming sound of flowing water. Simple beauty.

Oceans. The never ending waves, the ebb and flow of the tides. A perfect metaphor for the circle of life.

Wildlife - too many to count in our back yard - deer, moose, bears, wolves, coyotes, foxes, rabbits, squirrels, birds, etc etc...nature in all its living glory.

Hiking trails.

Teachers. My friends and colleagues, and the ones I had when I was a student. They are the reason I became a teacher myself. And don't forget, many of life's teachers are not found in a classroom.

Baseball. Playing it, watching it, coaching it. They call it the perfect game for a reason.

Birds. They give the forest life. There's nothing like sitting outside in the morning watching the sunrise and listening to the birds.

Coffee. Can't live without it.

The kindness of strangers. Seeing someone do something nice for someone they don't know, just because it's the right thing to do.

My first kiss. Magical.

Memories. Cherished memories of past experiences, and of loved ones no longer here.

Having things to look forward to. Every day is an adventure, big or small.

The hard times. Because they made me who I am.

The wisdom that comes from experience.

Soldiers. All of us owe our freedom and security to those who bravely and selflessly serve their country.

Snow. A fresh blanket of snow over the mountains. A quiet walk in the woods after a snowstorm.

Rain. Renewal. Sustaining life.

Being a teacher, a coach, a counselor, a leader, a confidant, and all the other roles I get to play in the lives of my students.

Campfires. There's just something magical about sitting around a campfire singing songs and chatting with friends and family.

Being me. I don't know how to be anybody else.

Freedom. See #53 above.

Children. Little ones, big ones, and everything in between. They are the future of this world. Teach them well.

Babies. New life. Innocence.

Jeeps. The most fun you can have in a vehicle with your clothes on.

Cool breezes on warm summer days.

Warm breezes on cool autumn days.

People who stand up for what they believe in. Even when I disagree with them, they have my deepest respect for their willingness to believe in something and take a stand for it.

Banana splits. With extra chocolate sauce.

Rainbows. Nature's way of saying "The storm is over. Carry on." I have a cool rainbow story I'll share here one day.

Love. A simple word that means so much more than words can say.

The fact that good usually wins over evil. And even when it doesn't, the knowledge that it will in the end.

The laws of physics. Perfectly designed and 100 percent reliable (and without them, I wouldn't have a job).

iPods.

Beauty, in all its myriad forms.

Hugs.

Libraries. Especially the smell of the old books down in the basement where no one ever goes.

Clean water, fresh air, and the way nature sustains itself by constantly replenishing both (if we could just stop polluting it so nature could catch up).

Waking up in the morning. A new beginning. See #8 above, sunrises.

Spell checkers.

Email.

Mom's oatmeal cookies. With raisins and NO EVIL WALNUTS (!)

Blue jeans.

Cats, dogs, and all the other animals we keep as pets, for their companionship and unconditional love.

Promises kept.

Pink roses that show up when you least expect them.

Forgiveness. Both given and received.

Love. I know I listed that one already, but it's important enough to count twice.

Hope. Without it, there is no future.

A smile and a friendly 'hello' from a stranger. Remember, if you make one person smile today, then you've made the world a better place, for that one person, for that one moment - and that matters.

Peanut butter.

The boundless energy and imagination of children.

Centipedes. Because they eat spiders. And I HATE SPIDERS (!)

Every moment I ever spent with my grandparents. So much wisdom. So many memories. So little time.

Pizza with everything on it.

Amazing people. I've always surrounded myself with them. I learn from them. I try, with varying degrees of success, to emulate their best qualities while still being myself.

The friends I've made all over the world through blogging and other forms of online communication. Some of them are among the amazing people I mentioned in #93 above.

Good listeners. They're the ones you can talk to about anything. They don't judge you or try to "fix" things. They just listen. They are priceless.

Christmas morning. It was fun as a kid; as a father, it's nothing short of magical.

Being there. All the things I've experienced in life, the good and the bad, that have made me who I am.

June 29, 1977

Smiles. In every society, every culture, everywhere in the world, a smile means the same thing. There are few other human gestures that are as universal.

My mind. It gives me the ability to think and feel and love and experience and learn and grow and adapt and survive. The mechanism of the human mind is the most amazingly complex process in the known universe - so complex that even the human mind itself can't fully comprehend it. Every thought, every emotion, every idea, every artistic creation, every word ever written or spoken, every musical note, every scientific discovery...all originated in the human mind. How can I not be thankful for that?

Never a dull moment...

2010-11-23T11:23:00.004-05:00

Some excitement in Laura's 6th grade class yesterday.

It was just before lunch, and Laura's teacher was writing on the chalk board when she suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed onto the floor. The kids all looked at each other, unsure of what to do, but Laura immediately recognized that Mrs. M was having a heart attack. Laura has been on a number of training weekends with me and my search and rescue team, and she is certified in CPR and the use of an AED. She told one of the other kids to run down to the nurse's office for help, then she began performing CPR on her teacher. A minute or so later, the nurse arrived with a portable AED unit, but she wasn't sure how to use it. Laura knew exactly what to do, so she took the unit from the nurse and used it on her teacher, restoring her heart rhythm and saving her life.

When I heard about what had happened, my first response (after "Yay Laura!" of course) was, "What?! The nurse didn't know how to use the AED?" But in her defense (I don't want to give the impression that she's incompetent), it wasn't that she didn't know how to use it, she was just unsure of where to place the pads and was reading the instructions. Laura knew the correct placement and took over in order to save precious seconds.

When Mrs. M woke up in the hospital, they explained to her what had happened. She called our house last night to personally thank Laura for saving her life, and we'll be going to visit her after school today. I've heard that saving the teacher's life can be very beneficial to one's grade point average, but we'll see about that...

...

[Read in Public Service Announcer voice]:

Getting certified in CPR and AED use is very simple, and anyone can do it. Portable AED units are now being installed in public buildings everywhere, and it's important to know how to use them. It only takes a few hours of your time to get certified, and you just might save someone's life. And parents: even children as young as 8 can learn how to do CPR effectively - you aren't getting any younger, and the life they safe could be yours. So contact the Red Cross and sign the whole family up for a training session. There is nothing more valuable than a human life - isn't it worth a few hours of your time to learn how to save one?

Our soldier is coming home

2010-11-11T10:55:00.005-05:00

Today is Veteran's Day. I waited until today to post this, because I thought it would be a fitting reminder of all the sacrifices our soldiers make for us and for our freedom. Please remember our soldiers today and every day. If you pass one on the street, or in the mall, or in the airport, or anywhere else, stop and shake their hand, and thank them for what they do. They risk their lives for us. Whether or not you agree with the policies of the government that puts them in harms way, we owe them our gratitude for serving their duty with bravery and honor. They give up their freedom, and sometimes even their lives, so that we can live ours in the safety and security of home.

...

Last year, the girls sent letters and a care package to a soldier in Iraq through an organization called Any Soldier. Their soldier wrote back to them, thanking them for the package and telling them a little about himself.

Since then, Laura and Katie have been exchanging letters with him fairly regularly, and sending him care packages filled with goodies and other basic necessities whenever they can. "Sgt. Jason," as they call him, says he always looks forward to their letters and enjoys having someone to correspond with. In turn, Laura and Katie have learned a lot about what it means to be a soldier stationed far from home.

Last week, the girls got a letter from Sgt. Jason saying that he is coming home. His Marine unit ships out in early December, and he'll be back on American soil before Christmas. He'll have 30 days leave when he gets home, and since he doesn't have any close family, we've decided to invite him here to spend the holidays with us. His unit is based out of New York, so it wouldn't be too far to travel, and we would love to meet him after all this time.

I love how much this experience has taught my girls about reaching out and touching lives, and what it means to make a difference for somebody. Sgt. Jason was alone over there. He had no one at home waiting for him; no one at home worrying about him; no one at home sending him cards and letters and packages; no one to wish him a happy birthday; no one to thank him for doing the job he is over there risking his life to do. My girls gave him all of those things and more, and I am so proud of them for that.

So thank you, Sgt. Jason, for teaching my girls that they can make a difference. You have touched my family deeply, and for that there will always be a place for you at our holiday table. Have a safe journey home.

Here we go again...

2010-10-26T15:25:00.006-04:00

For the upcoming holiday season, Katie has been cast in a musical adaptation of the Charles Dickens classic, A Christmas Carol. It's at the Lenier Theater (the same theater where she played Annie over the summer). This is a much smaller and less demanding role for her, which is good, since she doesn't have the luxury of summer vacation for this show. She has more downtime during rehearsals, so she can get her homework done between scenes, and they've worked things around her school schedule so she won't have to endure any 10 hour marathon rehearsals this time.

She plays the Ghost of Christmas Past. The casting notes describe the character as "a beautiful, young, sprightly spirit with the soul of a child and a wisdom far beyond her years." That describes Katie pretty well in real life, so it's an easy role for her to play. She takes Ebenezer Scrooge on a journey through his past and shows him all the things that made him into the man he became. As their journey begins, Katie sings a beautiful song titled "The Lights of Long Ago," and as always, her voice will take your breath away. The really cool thing is that she gets to fly - they'll have her and Scrooge rigged up on cables, and they'll both get lifted off the stage and flown around while she sings. As they fly, the scenery changes beneath them, and they eventually land at the schoolhouse where Scrooge grew up. Singing and flying at the same time have proven to be a bit of a challenge for Katie, but she's getting the hang of it. She also has to speak and sing with a British accent, which is a new skill for her. She's having a lot of fun, and of course learning more about the life of a stage performer. It's a lot of hard work, that's for sure. They make it look so easy when you see a performance on stage, but let me tell you, they work HARD behind the scenes to make it look that way.

As I sat and watched Katie in rehearsal last night, and she spoke her lines about the shadows of the past and how they make us who we are, I couldn't help but think of her own past - the echoes of Christmas long ago, and her memories of her mother must seem so distant to her now. To me it seems like yesterday, but for her it's half a lifetime ago. She has so many beautiful memories from those times, and how hard it must be for her to sing an emotional song that evokes such memories without breaking into tears. When she sings "The Lights of Long Ago," I can see it in her eyes, and I know exactly what she feels in those words. But as always, she uses the power of her emotions to give life to her song, and the result is absolutely breathtaking. I wish you all could see her up there.

The show runs for 6 weeks starting in November.

More on guardian angels...

2010-10-19T08:31:00.003-04:00

I have a friend who is going through some hard stuff. I've never met her face to face, but I've known her through the internet for more than 4 years. She reads my blog - I won't name her by name, but she knows who she is - and I hope she's okay with me writing about her here. If not, she can let me know and I'll take this post down.

My friend is having a terrible battle with depression. I know a little something about depression, because back when I was in my late teens and early twenties, I had a pretty serious battle with it myself. I gave in to it, and it almost killed me. I used alcohol and drugs to numb away the pain, until I couldn't feel anything anymore, and I convinced myself that as long as I couldn't feel anything, I would be okay. But I wasn't okay. Everyone around me knew I wasn't okay, and they tried to tell me so, but I wasn't in any condition to hear them. I almost killed myself several times, both accidentally and on purpose, before my guardian angel stepped in and saved my life.

Most of you read that story here, so I won't go into it again, except to say again that I truly believe Jill was an angel. She was sent here on a mission, and I believe that saving my life was part of that mission. By doing so, she left me with a debt of gratitude that I could never hope to repay, and she laid the groundwork for what would ultimately determine Katie's future as well as mine. Jill came into my life when we were children, she cultivated our lifelong friendship in a way that all but assured she would be in a position to save my life when I needed her most, so that I would be here to give Katie a home when her time came. I believe that chain of events was orchestrated by someone or something bigger and wiser than all of us. It was destiny. I believe that with all my heart.

Since her death, I believe Jill has remained by my side, and continues to watch over me and my family as our guardian angel. You've read this post about how I believe she intervened on behalf of Christina when she was born. There have been other times as well, such as this one and a few others that I haven't blogged about. I have felt her presence at times when I needed her to reassure me. I have seen her in dreams, heard her voice whispering on the wind when no one else was around, and I have seen her face in a crowd, only to have her vanish when I looked again. I believe she is with me always, and it isn't just wishful thinking. Angels are real, and Jill is one of them. Call me crazy, but I believe that with all my heart.

I went to visit her grave today. I go there often with Katie, but I rarely go there by myself anymore. It was good to go there and talk to her alone this time.

I felt her there today. I was telling her about my friend - Jill knew her too, and this friend was an important part of her battle with cancer - I told Jill I was worried about my friend, and I asked her to go there and watch over her for awhile. At that moment, I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I had an almost overwhelming feeling of peace come over me. When Jill was alive, whenever I talked to her about something I was worried about, she would always put her hand on my shoulder, and look me in the eyes and tell me that everything was going to be alright. And she had a certain way of saying it that just made me believe her, and it would instantly make me feel like everything was going to be alright. That was what I felt at the cemetery today, and it's not the first time that has happened. I wrote about it here awhile back too. I know it sounds like wishful thinking, or my mind convincing me I felt something that wasn't real, but I swear to you I felt her presence there. It was sudden, and startling, and she was there, I know she was.

And then, just as suddenly, she was gone, and I knew that she had done as I'd asked - she had gone halfway around the world to look after my friend.

So now my guardian angel is 12000 miles away, keeping watch over my friend. She needs a guardian angel more than I do right now, and I hope my friend can feel her the way I did today. She needs hope. She needs to feel. She needs Jill to wrap her loving hands around her heart and tell her that everything is going to be alright.

Hang on, dear friend. Listen with your heart, and you'll hear Jill speak your name. Believe.

Miracles, guardian angels, and bedtime stories

2010-09-27T14:08:00.010-04:00

If you haven't read this post from back in January, go read it now before you read this one. Even if you've already read that one, go read it again anyway to refresh your memory. You need to understand the context before you read today's post. Go ahead, I'll wait right here...

...

Last night we were looking through old photo albums with the girls. Christina was pointing out pictures of people she recognized and telling us who they were, when she came across an old picture of Jill. Jill was around 21 or 22 in this picture, and she was wearing an old pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Her hair was longer then, and that's the quintessential image of Jill as I like to remember her. It's the version of Jill I see in my memories more than any other - the clothing, the hair, the facial expression, all perfectly capture the essence of who she was.

Even though Jill was gone before she was born, Christina knows who she is - there's a picture of her in Katies's room, and we speak of her often by name. But she was younger in this picture in the photo album, and her hair was longer, so I guess she looked different enough that Christina didn't recognize her as Jill.

As she turned the page, Christina's eyes fixated on this picture of Jill, and she said, "That's the lady from the hospital. The one that held my hand and told me to keep breathing."

Jenny and I almost fell out of our chairs. We simultaneously said something along the lines of, "WHAT??!?!"

To which Christina replied, "and she comes into my room sometimes and tells me stories before I go to sleep."

We tried to get more out of her, but I think our stunned expressions might have caught her off guard, and she refused to tell us anything more.

Of course the simplest explanation is that we've often spoken figuratively about the "guardian angel" who watched over her in the hospital and helped her breathe in those earliest days - maybe she just remembers hearing those stories, and her mind has filled in the blanks and created false memories of a woman at the hospital. After all, she couldn't possibly remember anything from those days and weeks so soon after her birth (nor could she have understood the words of someone telling her to keep breathing). But that doesn't explain how she recognized an old picture of Jill as the face of her guardian angel; nor does it explain the part about Jill coming into her room and telling her bedtime stories before she goes to sleep.

From the very beginning, I've always believed there to be some kind of connection between Jill and Christina. Her birth was a miracle, her survival was a miracle, and I've always felt as though Jill had a hand in that somehow.

The grown-up, scientist guy in me says that's preposterous.

But my heart so wants it to be true.

Maybe we should have left him out there?

2010-09-22T09:28:00.003-04:00

Back in early March, my search and rescue team was mobilized to extract a hiker who had fallen off a cliff in Huntington Ravine. He had fallen about 40 feet onto a rock ledge, and had multiple spinal fractures and a head injury. Our job in that situation is to reach the victim, stabilize him, get him off the ledge, and move him to a safe location where the medical team can assess his injuries. After that, we get him to the ambulance crew, where they take over and transport him to the hospital.

That rescue went as well as could be expected. It was a dangerous situation in difficult, winter terrain. A helicopter was not an option because of tree cover and high winds. We had to climb down into the ravine, load the victim onto a stretcher and raise him by ropes up the 40 foot rock wall to level ground, then transport him out on foot. We performed the rescue by the book, and the result was a successful transfer to the ambulance which was waiting at the nearest trail head (a 2 mile hike over very hazardous and icy terrain). Under the circumstances, I think we did a pretty damn good job, and certainly saved the man's life.

On Monday afternoon, I was served with court documents indicating that the victim has filed a lawsuit against the search and rescue team, the ambulance crew, and the doctors at the hospital where he was treated. The suit names each organization as a whole, and each person individually, claiming that our actions exacerbated his injuries, and that we are at fault for the fact that he is now a quadriplegic.

That makes me sick to my stomach. We risked our lives out there to rescue this man, a man who had no business being out there anyway, as he was completely unprepared for the terrain or the weather he encountered that day. His boots were inadequate for the icy terrain, which is why he fell in the first place, and he nearly died from hypothermia before we got there because he wasn't properly dressed for the temperatures and wind chills at that altitude. Nevermind the fact that his neck was already broken from the fall, and there was nothing we could have done differently to get him off that ledge. All of us have extensive EMT training and rescue certifications. We know exactly what we're doing out there, and every single member of this team is as careful and thorough and knowledgeable as anyone. We knew the man had spinal cord injuries, and we took all the right precautions. His neck and back were fully braced before we moved him, and the climb out of the ravine went as smoothly as could reasonably be expected under the circumstances. We did everything right.

The members of this team are the best around - if ever I was in need of rescue, these are the guys I would want out there for me. We're damn good at what we do. That's not to say we're incapable of making mistakes - we're human, after all. But we did not make a mistake here. Sometimes you can do everything right and still have a less than optimal outcome. The man's neck was broken. We can't fix that, and we damn sure didn't cause it.

But the stupid prick is suing us anyway.

If I wasn't so dedicated to what we do, I'd say we should have left his ass out there to freeze to death. But I won't say that, because as much as I would hate it, I'd still go out there and rescue his ass again if I had to. Because that's what we do.

I hate living in a society where people have to blame someone else for everything. Doesn't anyone take responsibility for their own actions anymore? It's very sad that the man is a quadriplegic, but it's nobody's fault but his own. People need to know the risks before they go into dangerous terrain, and they need to be prepared for it. That particular trail through the ravine is widely regarded as one of the most hazardous trails in the White Mountains, even in good weather. In winter, it is downright treacherous and often deadly. NOBODY should be out there unless they know exactly what they're getting themselves into. Accidents happen, and that's why search and rescue teams like ours exist - even the most experienced and prepared hikers get into trouble sometimes - but I hate going out there and risking my life for someone who had no business being out there in the first place. And for him to turn around and sue the people who got him out of the situation he got himself into? That's just an unbelievable act of arrogance and selfishness.

Realistically, the suit against the SAR team and its members will almost certainly be thrown out before it ever gets to court - our state has a so-called "good samaritan" law which exempts volunteers and non-professional emergency caregivers from just this sort of thing. As long as there wasn't any gross negligence (and there wasn't) or willful harm (not yet, anyway...) we should be immune to any civil action. But still, it's the principle of it that I find completely disgusting. And the ambulance crew and doctors at the hospital don't have that same protection, because it only applies to volunteers. It's also unclear how it applies to the members of the SAR team who are medical professionals by day - we have two guys on the team who are ER physicians - my guess is that, since they were acting in a volunteer capacity at the time, the good sam law should apply to them as well. But we'll have to wait for the lawyers and judges to figure that out, I guess.

*sigh*

If people keep this shit up? Someday when they call for help, nobody will come.

Guest blogger: Katie - How I spent my summer vacation

2010-09-16T12:45:00.009-04:00

Today's post was written by Katie. She had to do the obligatory "How I spent my summer vacation" writing assignment for school, and I asked her if it would be okay if I shared what she wrote with all of you. You've all heard my perspective on her recent theatrical experience, so I thought you might be interested in hearing her take on it.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation
By Katie Gaines-D'Antonio

I spent my summer vacation performing at the Lenier Theater in their production of the musical Annie. It was the most fun I've ever had. It all started back in April when my parents got a letter from the casting director asking me to come and audition. Someone from their casting department saw me play Annie in a community theater production last year and they recommended me for the audition. I went there knowing I would be up against some of the best performers in the whole northeastern United States so I didn't really expect to get the part. I was so excited when they called me back for a second audition. After that, it was just a few days until they called and told me I got the part. I was so excited!

Rehearsals started in June, right before school was out. Since a lot of the cast members were kids, they scheduled the rehearsals for after school hours. The adult performers and crew weren't happy about that. I had to be there every day at 4:00 and we would rehearse until 9 or 10 at night. It was very tiring but also fun. I made some really good friends and learned a lot from working with experienced professional actors and actresses.

A typical day of rehearsal started out with a meeting of the whole cast and crew. The director would go over some notes from the last rehearsal and tell us what we were going to work on that day. Then we would break into groups and each group would have a list of scenes to go over. Since I was in almost every scene, I had to bounce back and forth between all of the groups, and someone else would read my part in the other groups. Some days we just practiced lines in the groups, and other days we worked on music, choreography and blocking. After about two hours we would have a break then we all met back on the main stage and we would run through the show from beginning to end. We stopped and made changes and corrections along the way, so sometimes it took 3 or 4 hours to get through the whole show. Since I was in almost every scene, I didn't get many breaks during that part of rehearsal because I was on stage the whole time. It was exhausting! At the end of rehearsal we would have another short meeting to review any changes that were made and talk about the next rehearsal. We were all really tired by the end.

As we got closer to opening night, the show really started to come together. We all had our lines memorized by then, but then the director started telling us to improvise in certain scenes. Instead of just saying our memorized lines from the script, he wanted us to make stuff up as we went along. That made it more fun for us so we wouldn't get bored saying the same lines every night, which I think made it more interesting for the audience too. That was a little scary at first because I never knew what to expect. Sometimes the other actors would say something that made me laugh and I had to try to keep a straight face and think of something to say back to them. It got easier with a little practice, and by the time the show opened I was ready for anything they threw at me. We had a lot of fun doing the improv scenes. Sometimes we would play little jokes on each other, or someone would slip a silly prop in that didn't really belong in the scene and the rest of us would have to try to act natural and not laugh when something caught us by surprise. One time Mr. Warbucks opened up his brief case and there was a rubber chicken in it! We tried not to laugh when we saw it, and he had to be careful not to let the audience see it. Things like that kept the show fun and kept us from getting tired of it after performing night after night.

On performance nights I had to be at the theater 2 hours before curtain. I went straight to the makeup room where they did my hair and covered me with a special kind of makeup that makes you show up better under the stage lights. It looks really funny in regular light, but it looks better on stage. Then I would get my costume on and start warming up my voice and going over my lines. On opening night I was really nervous. I was going over my script before the show and I kept forgetting my lines and I was so afraid I was going to forget them on stage and mess up the whole show. I had a song in the first scene, and I can't sing well when I'm nervous because my voice gets all shaky. The more I thought about that the more nervous I got! Everybody kept telling me not to be nervous and I would be fine once I got on stage, but I was still a little scared. But once the curtain went up, I got into character and I wasn't afraid anymore. They were right! After I finished singing the first song and I heard the audience clap, then I knew I must have done okay. After that I wasn't nervous anymore. I couldn't see the audience because of the bright lights on stage, but I could sure hear them!

We performed every night except Tuesdays, and there were 2 shows on Sundays. It was a little tiring going out there every day, but it was so much fun it didn't matter. The show was supposed to run for 5 weeks, but when every performance sold out they extended it for 3 more weeks. The other actors all said it was because of me that the shows were all selling out. It felt really good to hear that, even though I knew it was really the whole cast and crew that made the show so good. After almost every show there were people waiting outside for me to sign autographs. They would tell me how good the show was and how much they enjoyed my singing. That felt good. One time somebody asked me how I learned to sing so well. I just told them I got my voice from my mom.

It was the most fun summer I've ever had, and I hope to be able to do another show like this next year.

Sunrise

2010-09-14T09:17:00.004-04:00

I love sunrises. To me, they represent new beginnings. Every day is a new beginning, a new chance to be alive, to experience new things, think new thoughts, feel new feelings. With every sunrise comes a new opportunity to grow and learn and live.

This is my favorite time of year, because the timing of the sunrise allows me to catch it every morning on my way to work. There's a spot along Route 16 where I can pull off to the side of the road and have a beautiful view of the valley, and watch the sun appear between two mountains to the East. It's an amazing sight any time of year, and it gets even better when the trees begin to turn and the orange glow of the sunrise augments the color of the leaves. It looks like the whole valley is on fire.

I stop there almost every morning, and I sit on the hood of my Jeep with my coffee, and I watch the sunrise while I prepare myself for the day ahead. Cars whiz by on the highway behind me and I wonder sometimes, do they even know what they're missing? They're all in such a hurry to get to work, or wherever they're headed at that hour, and I can't help but think the world would be a much more pleasant place to live if everyone would just slow down and enjoy the scenery once in awhile - literally and figuratively. Sometimes we're all so busy rushing from here to there, and trying not to miss anything, that it's far too easy to miss the stuff that really matters.

Slow down. Enjoy the scenery. Open your windows and let the wind blow through your hair. Go for a walk in the rain and feel the rain drops on your face. Sit by a lake and look at the trees and sky reflected in the water. Let go of anger and hate and bitterness and all those other negative emotions that tie us down and keep us from true happiness. Stop worrying about where you're going, and think about where you are. Life is short. Live in this moment, because this moment will never happen again.

Repost: A Nation Remembers

2010-09-11T07:31:00.008-04:00

This is a repost from September 11 last year. I don't think I could say anything this year that I didn't already, so here it is again.

September 11, 2001.

It was one of those moments in history so profound that most people remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they first heard the news.

I was in between classes when I heard someone in the hallway say that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Someone said "I'll bet it was terrorists," and I remember thinking how sad it is that our minds immediately turn to terrorism whenever we hear news of a plane crash. Then fifteen minutes later, the news came in that a second plane had hit the other tower, quickly erasing any doubts about the cause.

Confusion and fear and disbelief filled the air. Rumors and speculation and conflicting news reports spread like wildfire through the hallways. Somebody said they heard that another plane had hit the Pentagon, and a fourth plane was unaccounted for. More conflicting stories were heard, and there were unsubstantiated rumors about planes falling from the sky all over the country. By late morning, the decision was made to cancel classes for the rest of the day, and the students all gathered in the gym to watch the news on television monitors. Some parents came and picked up their kids early and took them home. Others stayed and watched. I remember standing in the back of the gym, leaning against the wall watching the TV images in utter disbelief. I watched in horror as people jumped out of windows on the upper floors of the twin towers, realizing it was the only way they could escape the flames and smoke that would have killed them anyway. Then the first tower collapsed, and I just sat down on the floor and buried my head in my hands as I thought of all the people who were still trapped inside. I looked around at the faces of my students. Some stared at the TV with their mouths open in disbelief. Some were crying. Some were praying. Some watched in stoic silence, while their eyes gave away their thoughts.

Friends tried to comfort one another. A group of girls sat in the corner holding hands and praying together. A group of boys stood together and tried to convince each other that they were cool, but you could see in their faces that they were all just as scared and confused as the rest of us. Shortly after the second tower collapsed, a student came over to me with tears in his eyes and said "Mr. D, who would do something like that, and why?" I could only shake my head and say "I don't know." I hate questions that I can't answer. Another student was sitting on the floor a few feet away from me. She was alone, and she was crying. I sat down next to her and put my hand on her shoulder and asked her if she was okay. She told me that her older brother worked on the 32nd floor of the North Tower. I tried to reassure her that he probably got out, but she knew I was just saying that; she knew I didn't know for sure. But I didn't know what else to say, and I had to say something. I gave her my phone so she could make some calls and see if anyone had heard from him. Awhile later she got a call back saying he was okay. A tiny glimmer of good news on an otherwise horrific day.

I remember driving home that afternoon with my head in a fog, and when I got home I just hugged Jenny and held her for the longest time and promised her that everything would be okay. She needed to hear me say that. I needed to hear me say that too. I'm not sure whether or not either of us believed it, but we both needed to hear me say it. It was the day before Laura's second birthday, and we were both wondering what kind of world lay in store for her.

But in the days and weeks that followed, it became clear that although the terrorists had completed their mission, they had failed to accomplish their larger goal. I drove past houses with American flags flying out front, and flags began appearing on cars, along with "United We Stand" bumper stickers. People were nicer to each other. People who never seemed to care about anything at all suddenly started caring about our nation's future and the freedoms we all take for granted. The resolve in peoples' faces reflected the realization that if we huddled in fear then they would win, and we refused to let them win. Red, white and blue started showing up everywhere. American flags hung from overpasses and on the sides of buildings. The entire world, even our sworn enemies, stood behind us. Heroic stories began to emerge about the brave men and women of the NYPD and FDNY who rushed into the buildings while everyone else was rushing out; the passengers of flight 93 who were credited with stopping that plane short of its target; and the first responders at the Pentagon who pulled survivors out of the rubble and saved the lives of as many as they could. True American heroes, all of them.

And I realized that the terrorists' attempt to break our nation and bring us down had only united us under our flag, and made us stronger.

Then the politicians and lawyers got involved, and the finger pointing started, and...well, let's just leave it at that.

For all those who died that day, may they never be forgotten. For all those who lost someone that day, may they find peace in their hearts and comfort in their memories. And for all of us who remember the horrific events of that day, may we always stand united as one nation, defiant to those who seek to destroy us, and may we never forget what the stars and stripes of our flag represent.

United we stand.

September 11, 2001
We will never forget.

Fear

2010-09-08T09:25:00.006-04:00

I am fearless. I climb mountains just because they're there, and I'm okay with dangling off the face of a rock hundreds of feet in the air suspended only by ropes. I fight my way into burning buildings when any sane person would be fighting to get out. I rappel down into deep ravines, crawl into tight caves and under huge leaning boulders that could crush me like a bug if they fell. I kayak down raging rivers, careening over jagged rocks that would tear my head off if I hit one. I ride a bike down steep rocky mountain trails jumping over fallen trees and rocks that could easily throw me over the handlebars if I land the wrong way. I ski down steep mountain slopes at 70 mph around sharp turns at the edge of a 100-foot drop off. I hang glide, skydive, bungee jump, play rugby against guys twice my size, and have tried just about every other extreme sport you can think of. I teach classrooms full of teenagers (?!) every day. I stare fear in the eyes and I laugh in its face, because I refuse to let fear win. Fear has no power over me. I am fearless.

Or so I thought.

On August 21, Jenny found a lump in her left breast. My heart stopped that day, and I was gripped by fear unlike anything I've ever known. Never before had I come face to face with the thought of losing everything. Never before had I experienced fear so completely paralyzing. Jenny was scared too, and I struggled to find words to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay. As hard as I tried not to think about it, my mind kept wandering back to the worst case scenario. I've been down this road before, and all I could think about was "what if I lose her too?" Selfish thoughts, I know, but that's what fear does to you, I guess.

I've never felt fear like that before, and I hope I never do again. After an MRI report that characterized the lump as "suspicious", we finally got the biopsy results yesterday. It is benign - just a cyst. I'm hoping my heart will start beating again by the end of the day today.

Sorry my blog has been kind of quiet lately. I couldn't write about this until we knew what it was, and I couldn't think about much of anything else. Once my heart starts beating again, I'll get back to writing, I promise.

Hug someone you love today.

No more Tomorrows...

2010-08-16T13:06:00.000-04:00

Last night was Katie's final performance as Annie. What an amazing experience this was for her. For all of us, really. I can't begin to describe what it was like sitting in the audience night after night watching her up there on the stage. I can't begin to describe what it was like night after night hearing the applause, and seeing her face light up when she took her bow as the audience roared to their feet amid the thunder of a standing ovation. Night after night, I sat in absolute awe at the surrealness of the whole experience. There are no words for that feeling. Just magical.

As Katie and the rest of the cast took their final bows last night, and the curtain came down for the last time, I thought about how much this show has meant to her. Not just because it was her first professional role, but because of the role itself - more than any other show she's been in, playing Annie has been such a wonderful experience for her because she relates to the character on so many levels - the loss and longing for what can never be; the reality of living a childhood of "hard knocks" and knowing that it shouldn't be that way; the enduring hope and optimism in her heart that constantly remind her that it won't always be that way; and ultimately finding a place where she belongs, a place to call home...so many parallels to her real life. Playing this role gave Katie a chance to explore all of these feelings, and take control of them, and totally and completely OWN them. She plays Annie so well because in so many ways she IS Annie. So I'm sad to see the show come to an end, because I know how much it meant to her.

But of course there's also a part of me that's glad it's over. I won't miss the daily drive to the theater - 40 miles each way, six days a week, for a grand total of 5680 miles. And the fact that she had to be there two hours before show time for makeup and costuming and pre-show prep, which for me meant two hours a day of sitting around with nothing to do. Not to mention all the legal hoops we had to jump through to allow her to work as a paid professional actress without breaking any child labor laws, and all the silly paperwork we had to fill out to comply with those laws and others designed to make sure the money she earns remains hers (not that those laws aren't important, and in some cases necessary, it's just that there's a lot of paperwork that comes with them). And sitting around for hours and hours during rehearsals watching them run the same scene over and over again until it's perfect, and not being able to leave the building because the law requires that she have a parent or guardian present at all times during rehearsals.

But you know what? I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. Because it really was an amazing experience for her. She got a taste of what a career in theater would be like, and all the pressure that comes with it (and her dream of performing on Broadway is still intact). She got a chance to show off her talent to sold-out theater crowds night after night, and experience the thrill of hearing their applause and knowing that she totally blew them away with her voice. She found some great new friends among the other cast members. She got to see her name in lights on the theater marquee, and feel the thrill of being treated like a star, including meeting the public and signing autographs after every show. She got a chance to work with a wonderful professional cast and crew and director. She gained valuable experience, and learned some new skills that will serve her well if/when she decides to do this as a career. And above all, she spent a summer doing what she loves, and had an experience that she will remember for the rest of her life.

So what's next for our young starlet? I don't know. We've been approached by several talent agencies wanting to represent her. We haven't really had time to explore any of that yet, but we will. She definitely needs to take a break before she gets involved with anything else - the schedule for this show was gruelling, and now school starts up in less than two weeks. She didn't really have much of a summer vacation, and she needs some time to unwind and live a normal life again for awhile. But if another audition comes up, you can bet she'll want to go. There aren't very many big roles for someone her age, so chances are the next one will be a less demanding part. She'll also stay active in the school drama club and the local community theater - there are lots of opportunities for her there, and without all the pressure that comes with a professional role. So we'll see what's next. Meanwhile the talent agencies keep calling and begging us to sign her on, promising fame and fortune and overnight success. Frankly, the idea of signing her with a talent agency scares the hell out of me, but ultimately that's what we'll have to do if she wants to act. But for now, we just want to get some sense of normalness back into her life. We're going to enjoy these last two weeks of summer, then get ready to head back to school. The talent agencies will still be there when the time is right.

And when the kids at school start talking about how they spent their summer vacations? Wow, will Katie have a story to tell...

I will never forget

2010-07-28T08:37:00.013-04:00

It's been four years now. Four years ago today, Jill took her last breath, and I said goodbye to the dearest friend I've ever known. Cancer is such a cruel and brutal disease - for the last year of her life, Jill was in constant pain, and then the tumors that had metastasized to her brain caused a hemorrhagic stroke that left her paralyzed and unable to communicate. She was literally trapped inside her body, fully conscious of what was happening to her, fully able to feel pain, fully able to comprehend the horror of her fate, yet unable to move or communicate her needs. She could understand us when we talked to her. She could respond to yes or no questions by moving her head. We had to guess at what she needed, and it was horribly frustrating for her when we weren't able to figure out the right questions to ask. She so desperately wanted out - for so long, she had fought with all her heart just to live a little while longer and spend more time with Katie - but by the end, she just wanted out. She just wanted to be free. Her whole life, Jill had never met a challenge she didn't face head-on, and she never gave up on anything - cancer was the first thing in her life that ever made her give up, and I hate cancer for doing that to her. It had already taken away everything she had, and in the end it took away her will to live. Of all the cruel things it did to her, that might have been the cruelest of all. And I couldn't help her. I wanted more than anything for her pain and suffering to end, but I was completely helpless. All I could do was sit by her bed and watch her suffer in unbearable agony, and I'm still haunted by those memories. Katie too - she saw things no child should ever have to see, and she still has nightmares about it sometimes. I'll never forget the intensity of the emotions we all felt in those final days.

About a week before she died, Jill lapsed into a coma. Her eyes were still open, but they had this distant, glassy look in them, and she was completely unresponsive. I didn't know if she could still hear me or not, but I kept talking to her anyway just in case. Then, on the night before she died, she suddenly turned her head and looked at me. Right at me. Her eyes were clear and focused, and she looked as if she wanted to say something. I said her name a few times and asked her if she could hear me. A glowing expression of complete peace and serenity came over her face, and she just looked at me for a moment, with her eyes as bright and full of life as they had ever been. She always had this way of smiling with her eyes, in a way that made you feel like everything was going to be alright - that was the look I saw in her that night. It only lasted for a moment, then she was gone again. Her eyes glazed over and the light in her face faded away, and then she was back in that catatonic state once again. But the image of her face in that one moment is burned into my memory forever. She was there. I saw her. And she saw me. For the first time since her ordeal began, for that one single moment, she looked as though she was at peace. I think she wanted me to know that she was okay, and she used every bit of strength left in her body to let me see it. The next morning, with Katie curled up sleeping beside her, I held Jill's hand while she took her last breath. Katie woke up almost immediately after, and she knew somehow. She looked at her mom, then at me, and I didn't have to say anything. She just knew. Then came the tears.

And so began four years of healing. They say time heals all wounds, but I don't think it really does. It changes them, but the wounds will always be there. There are some wounds that are just too deep, and those scars will last a lifetime.

So much has changed since that day. Katie has grown into a beautiful young lady now, and she is thriving in spite of all her struggles. There was a time when I didn't know how she would survive, but when I look at her now I see that she has her mother's spirit in her heart. Katie has the same kind of never-give-up spirit Jill had - she refuses to let anything beat her, and she has a kind of hope and optimism in her heart that gives her the strength to go on no matter what. That inner strength will serve her well in life. We've tried hard to keep her mother's memory alive in her. She'll never forget the awfulness of those last days, but she remembers the good times too. And there were a lot of good times. Jill was such an amazing mother. It makes me sad when I think of all the things she won't be here to see. Every time there's a special event in Katie's life, I think of Jill and wish that she was there to share in it. I know Katie feels that too. Behind her glowing smile, there is always a faint shadow of sadness. Most people probably wouldn't notice it, but I do. It's in her eyes. That shadow will always be there.

A part of me died along with Jill - the part that never knew about suffering and death; the part that believed in miracles; the part that believed things happened for a reason. It's a loss of innocence, I guess, and it's something I'll never get back. I can't "unsee" the things I saw, or "unlearn" the things I learned, so I've had to find new ways of looking at things. I'm finding my way, but I'll never be the same. There will always be a hole in my life that can never be filled, a best friend lost forever. A lifelong friendship like we had is something that few people ever experience, and although I will live the rest of my life without her, I will treasure every single moment that we shared while she was here. And as hard as it was for me to watch her suffer like that, I'm glad I was there, and I hope that in some small way my being there helped make it a little less horrible and painful for her. I'll never forget the way Jill died, but neither will I forget the way she lived. Her life was tragically short, but she got more joy out of her brief time here than most people ever do. Jill lived every day of her life as a shining example of how to be at peace with the world and everything in it. She was the most positive and happy and optimistic person I've ever known, and you can't be around someone like that without learning from them. She made a difference in the lives of everyone who knew her, and every single life she touched has been forever changed. I truly believe she was an angel who came into my life for a reason. I just wish I could find a reason for why she was taken away so soon. She was too young. I'll never understand that. I'll never be okay with that. Never.

Jill's horrible death, and the subsequent healing process, has been a journey for me. I've learned so much along this journey - mostly things I wish I never had to learn, but also things I'm grateful for having learned. I've learned a lot about who I am, and what I'm capable of, and what my limitations are. I've learned about what matters and what doesn't, and what love and friendship and commitment mean to me. I've learned about my relationship with God, and that although Jill's suffering and death shattered my faith, it can still be put back together again once I find all the pieces - and I will find them. I've learned that no matter how dark the night gets, the sun will always rise tomorrow and bring with it a new day, a new chance to live and breathe and think and feel; and that the fragility of life is what makes it so valuable and beautiful. I've learned to appreciate every single moment I spend with the people I love - to take nothing for granted and to treat each day with them as if it were my last. I've learned that what we do in this world really does matter - the lives we touch, the moments we share, the love we give to others - because those are the things that the people we leave behind will always remember after we're gone. I've learned that life goes on, no matter how much we hurt, and that even death can't take away a lifetime of memories. For all of these things I am truly thankful. But I would trade it all in a heartbeat, just to see her again. Just to see the smile in her eyes one more time.

Please read this post, if you haven't already. It will tell you everything you need to know about how much my friend meant to me.

Goodbye, Jill. I'll never forget.

20 Years...

2010-07-15T13:08:00.005-04:00

I don't talk about it much on my blog, so in case anyone doesn't know...

I am an alcoholic. It has been 20 years since my last drink. 20 years ago today, I hit the reset button and started my life over. Recovery was a long, hard road. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and there were days when I didn't think I was going to make it. There were nights when it didn't seem worth it. There were so many times when I thought about taking the easy way out.

I'm not proud of that part of my life, but I'm damn sure proud of who I became after recovery. I had an opportunity that most people never have, an opportunity to start over and rebuild myself into the man I knew I could be. You learn a lot about yourself when you do that. You learn what your strengths and weaknesses are, and you break down all the barriers that hold you back from personal growth. You develop a kind of self-awareness that most people will never have. It is truly like a rebirth, in that you get to throw away all of the old thought patterns and behaviors that got you there, and start over - only this time you get to watch yourself grow and learn through the eyes of experience, and you have the benefit of hindsight to guide you forward. Some of the most amazing people I've ever known have been through that same process - it changes people in remarkable ways.

I also had help from a very dear friend, and I wouldn't have made it without her. She saved my life, and I owe her everything for that. Everything.

Below is a repost for anyone who didn't see it the first time around.

...

How to save a life

This is a story about a part of my life that I'm not very proud of. But it was also the part of my life that had the most profound influence on who I am today. It's not an easy story for me to tell. But it's a story well worth telling, because if it weren't for the love and dedication of the very best friend in the world, I would not be here today. This is the story of how my best friend saved my life.

I met Jill when we were 6 years old. She was different from every other girl I knew then, because she liked to play with trucks and dig for worms, instead of playing with dolls and having tea parties like all the other girls. We became best friends almost instantly. She outgrew her tomboy phase after a few years, but we still remained incredibly close even though our interests had gone in vastly different directions. By the time we were teenagers, we had already been through a lot together, and our friendship had evolved into an unbreakable bond. We were always together. We did everything together. Jill was my best friend, and as we grew up, life always seemed to keep finding new ways of showing us how much we needed each other.

When we were around 17, I started drinking. At first it was just on weekends, then it gradually became more and more frequent, until eventually I was getting drunk every day. I was going full speed ahead down the wrong road, and running over anybody who tried to stand in my way. All the people who cared about me tried to stop me, and I pushed them all away. I said things to them that I can never take back. I said things to Jill that would have caused most people to walk away and never look back. But she didn't walk away. She kept reaching out to me, and every time I pushed her away she kept coming back. I don't remember much about the next two years. My father died during that time. The last time I spoke to him I said things to him that I will regret for the rest of my life. I didn't even go to his funeral. I pushed away all of my family, all of my friends, all of the people who cared about me. Most of my former friends went off to college, including Jill. I didn't. I had no direction in life, and all I wanted to do was sit around and drink. I was alone. I no longer had anyone in my life who could help me.

Then one day in the summer of 1990 (July 15, to be exact), I came home from the liquor store with a brand new bottle of Jack Daniels tucked under my arm, and I found Jill sitting in my apartment waiting for me. She locked the door behind me, and she refused to let me leave until I sobered up and listened to her. She told me things that day that I will never forget. She spoke to me in a way that no one had ever spoken to me before. She told me things about herself that I never knew before, and she told me things about myself that I never knew before. All day, all night, and well into the next morning, she sat with me and talked. I'll never forget the look in her eyes that day. With tears streaming down her face, she pleaded with me, and she told me I had to fix this. I had never heard such desperation in her voice before, and it finally got through to me. The next day, I went to my first AA meeting. Jill continued to be there to support me and stand behind me in the months and years that followed. I still have the bottle that I came home with that day, still unopened, sitting here on a shelf next to my desk. I keep it as a reminder of what Jill did for me. She saved my life that day.

But that's not the end of the story. In August of that year, Jill was supposed to go to Europe for a year on a Study Abroad program through her university. It was a very difficult program to get into, with a lengthy application and interview process, and only the best and brightest got accepted into it. Getting into that program was a dream come true for her, and that opportunity meant more to her than anything else in the world. But she didn't go. Not only did she not go to Europe, but she took a year off from school, to stay with me, to keep me sober. It was too soon, and if she had gone away I would have started drinking again, and she knew it. She gave up the chance of a lifetime for me. For an entire year, she put her life on hold for me. She took me to my AA meetings. She was there in the middle of the night when I felt like I needed a drink. She was there to pick up the pieces when I fell apart. She helped me repair the rift I had created with my family. She gave everything she had to give, and she did it all for me, and without ever expecting anything in return. She did it because she believed in me. Jill knew me better than anyone else in the world, she knew I had the potential to make something of my life, and she refused to let me throw it away.

I always promised her that I would make it up to her somehow, and that someday she would get to go to Europe and see all the things that she had missed. But life went on, and circumstances got in the way, and Europe kept getting pushed aside for other things. She never got to take that trip. Jill always said she didn't have any regrets about that, and I believed her because that's who she was. But I have always had regrets about it, and I always will.

Jill died in July, 2006 after a long and horrible battle with breast cancer. She was 35. I wish more than anything that I could turn back the clock and give her back all the time that she gave up for me. I don't know where I would be now if she hadn't done what she did. My alcohol problems are far behind me now, and I love my family way too much to ever go down that road again. And I have Jill to thank for all of it. When I think back to all the times that she was there, all the times that she rescued me during moments of weakness, all the times that she saved me from myself...all the things that she gave up for me...I owe her a debt that I would never ever have been able to repay, even if she'd lived 100 years. But I'm doing the best I can to live the life that she gave me the chance to have.

After I got back on my feet I went to school and earned my degree in Applied Physics, then I went on to get a master's degree in engineering. Now I'm a high school teacher. My students know about my past. I'm not proud of it, but I think it's good for them to see that I made mistakes when I was their age, and was still able to turn around and make something of my life. As a volunteer at the teen counseling center, I see kids every day who are heading down that lonely road, and I try my best to get through to them before it's too late. Sometimes I can, and sometimes I can't - there are some who just need to find their own way. But I see it as part of my job, and part of the repayment of my debt, to help the ones I can.

So that's my story. It's an awful story about an awful time in my life, but also a story of unconditional love, and friendship, and giving. I hope you got something out of reading it.

The reviews are in...

2010-07-06T09:41:00.009-04:00

Sorry, I know you're all getting sick of hearing about Katie. I promise just one more post, then I'll write about something else for awhile...

There was a review of Annie in the newspaper on Sunday. I won't post the whole thing, but here are some of the highlights (and by highlights I mean the parts about Katie... :) )

...

...Katie Gaines-D'Antonio anchors the cast in the title role, making her professional debut as Annie. To say she is delightful would be an epic understatement. She is 11 years old, and sings with all the power, passion, and vocal maturity of someone three times her age. She lights up the stage with her electrifying performance of "Tomorrow," leaves the audience in tears with her emotional rendition of "Maybe," and brings down the house in the big finale number. From the moment she takes the stage, you'll instantly fall in love with the character, and she plays the role with a kind of commanding stage presence you don't often find in such a young performer. Her acting is inspiring, the energy and expressiveness she brings to the character are exceptional, and her voice will simply take your breath away. You won't find a better Annie on any stage.

...

You'll never see a better production of this musical theater classic. There is a kind of warmth and genuine chemistry between the characters of Annie and Mr. Warbucks (played by Dan Wilson) that really shines and makes it all the more heartwarming in the end. The acting is brilliant on both of these key parts, and the supporting cast fills out the performance admirably. Somewhere between the comic relief of Miss Hannigan (played perfectly by Nancy Mulhearn) and the heartfelt yearnings of the young orphans, you'll fall in love with an 11 year old girl named Annie. Without hesitation, this show gets my highest rating - 5 stars.

Well. I guess I can't argue with that.

Opening Night

2010-07-03T16:21:00.006-04:00

Last night was Katie's big opening night, and...well...wow. Not sure what else I can say. Just wow. There are no other words. A perfect performance by the entire cast.

As promised, I couldn't get any video, but I did record the audio with my iPhone. Sorry about the poor sound quality. Here are a few highlights.

The first one is "Maybe". It's from the opening scene of the play. I'll set the stage for you, since you can't see it:

It's the middle of the night at the orphanage for girls in depression-era New York City. The orphans are asleep when Molly, a 6-year old orphan, suddenly wakes up from a dream and cries out for her mother. Annie rushes over to comfort her and dry her tears. Molly begs Annie to read her the note she always keeps in her pocket, a note that Annie's parents left when they abandoned her as a baby. Annie, ever-hopeful that her parents will one day return for her, reads the note aloud as the girls dream about what it would be like to have a real home with real parents. Then Annie holds Molly close and sings to her about the parents she imagines but has never known:

Maybe

This one needs no explanation. It's Annie's signature song about her unbridled hope for a better tomorrow. Listen to the audience reaction at the end - Katie absolutely blew the roof off the theater here:

Tomorrow

For as long as I live, I will never ever forget the moment when Katie came out to take her bow at the end. The audience was already on their feet, and when Katie stepped out onto the stage for her bow, the whole place just exploded with cheers and applause like I've never heard before. Katie's smile outshined the spotlight. As has become her trademark, after she took her bow, she looked up toward heaven and mouthed the words "I love you mommy". I have no doubt that Jill was there to hear her. This had to be the most magical moment of Katie's young life.

Oh, and this was unexpected: when we left the theater, there were people waiting outside the door wanting Katie's autograph. How cool is that? I guess they figure it'll be worth something someday when she's a huge-super-mega-star....

One performance down, 49 more to go. We're heading out to the theater now for performance number 2. I have a feeling we're going to be sick of Annie by the end of the summer.... :)

Opening night jitters...

2010-07-02T10:34:00.004-04:00

Tonight is Katie's big opening night. She's a little nervous, and extremely excited. One minute she's bouncing off the walls with excitement, and the next minute she's pacing around in a panic because she can't remember her lines. But once that spotlight comes on and she steps out onto the stage, the nerves will calm and the magic will happen - it always does.

A delivery of flowers arrived at our door for Katie this morning, along with a card that read "Katie, Break a leg tonight. I'll be there - Jake". Jake is a boy in Katie's class at school who has taken quite a shine to her recently...young love is so cute. But Jake needs to know that legs will be broken if he tries anything... [kidding. Sort of. Okay, not really. Are you reading this, Jake? Legs. Broken. Understood? :) ].

If you've read the post linked above, then you know how excited I am about this show. It is going to be spectacular - not just because of Katie, but the whole production. I've seen it a hundred times now in rehearsals, but the experience is completely different in front of a live audience. I'm not sure how to describe it, but there's a kind of energy that exists when there's an audience present that isn't there in rehearsals. I know they feel that energy on the stage, and it takes the whole show up a few notches. And for me, there's nothing more amazing than hearing the applause and seeing your little girl up there on the stage and knowing that all those people are cheering for her.

By the way, after I posted the picture of Katie in costume last week, a few people commented on how nice it is that she's not wearing the ridiculous red curly wig that Annie is so often known for. The first day of rehearsals, the director launched into a huge tirade about the "red curly clown hair" that Annie has been stuck with ever since the horrible 1982 film version of Annie, and how every production since then has used that stupid wig and how it totally ruins the character. You had to be there to fully appreciate this story, but if you can picture a flamingly animated theatrical type guy going off the deep end with arms flailing around in all directions while trying his best to censor his language in the presence of the young members of the cast, that was the scene. It was quite entertaining, I must say. So anyway, that's why she's not wearing the goofy red wig. And I agree that the character is much more "real" and believable without it. Besides, Katie's naturally reddish hair fits the part perfectly anyway.

I'd love to be able to get some video of the show, but the theater has a very strict policy against video recording of any kind. Video cameras are a big no-no with professional theater folks in general - they wouldn't even allow me to video a rehearsal, and they would throw me right out of the there if they caught me with a camera at a performance. That said...ahem...I might accidentally leave my iPhone sitting under my seat recording sound, so I will have an audio-only recording for those who can't make it to the show....and if that accidentally happens, I might accidentally post a few clips to my blog...

Looking forward to a magical night.

Here's our "Annie"

2010-06-17T07:46:00.007-04:00

Just in case you missed the big announcement, Katie will be performing on Lenier Theater's main stage starting July 2 in the title role of Annie.

The theater shot some publicity photos of the cast last week. We didn't get to see all of them, but the bazillion page contract that we signed contains a clause that gives Katie the right to approve any photo of her before they can use it, so we got to see this one - it's going in a full-page ad in the newspaper this week. I thought you'd all like to see what Katie looks like in character (she's the one in the red dress... :))

The dog's name is Curly. He totally steals the show in his scenes, and he's the most well-trained dog I've ever met - it's almost as if he understands English perfectly, and knows exactly what he's doing up there on the stage.

This has been the most amazing experience for Katie. The audition process was amazing; the chance to work with a professional director and cast and crew is amazing; being treated like a star is amazing. It's truly an opportunity of a lifetime for her, and she's loving every minute of it. Off stage she's still the same quiet and humble Katie we've always known, but as soon as she steps out into that spotlight, something magical happens.

It's fun to watch her interact with the other cast members backstage. She has developed a great rapport with the adult leads, and everyone really looks up to her and admires her talent. She has captured the hearts of everyone involved with the show, and I know she'll do the same with every audience from the moment she sets foot on the stage. As with any show, the lead can really make or break the whole production - that's a lot of pressure for an 11 year old girl, but Katie has left no doubt in anyone's mind that she's up to the task. Dan, the actor who plays Oliver Warbucks, has taken Katie under his wing and really helped her feel comfortable in the sometimes stressful environment of professional theater. Last week Katie was feeling a little intimidated by the fact that so much of the show's success or failure is riding on her shoulders, but Dan was quick to reassure her that she's good enough to carry the show "even if the rest of us fall flat on our faces," as he put it. Coming from Dan, that meant a lot to her, and it really helps to have him looking out for her.

Katie is having the time of her life, but it really is a lot of hard work. Every day I pick her up from school and take her straight to the theater, where they rehearse for 5 or 6 hours a day with only a short break for dinner. Katie is on stage in almost every scene, so she doesn't get much downtime during rehearsals. When she has a few minutes between scenes and during breaks, she uses the time to get her homework and studying done. School is out after this week, so things will get a little easier for her then. But the long hours and late nights have been tough on her at times.

I've been able to watch most of the rehearsals and I've gotten to see how the show has taken shape over these last few weeks, and what a privilege that has been. This is going to be one hell of a good show by opening night. Every member of the cast is fantastic, the director is a genius, the stage and lighting crews are excellent, the set construction is superb, the pit orchestra is spectacular...did I leave anybody out? Probably, but you get the idea - it truly is a polished and professional show all around, and watching it evolve from each rehearsal to the next has just been amazing. It's every bit as good as a Broadway production, and I'm not just saying that because Katie's in it.

I was talking with Lawrence, the director, last night during a break. He told me that this is his fourth time directing Annie, and he has seen at least 15 other productions of it - including Broadway and national touring productions - and he told me that Katie is far and away the best Annie he has ever seen. He's not the kind of guy who gives out empty praise, so I know he wasn't just saying that to appease me. He meant it, and that means a lot coming from a guy who has seen the best of the best. He said Katie seems so natural and comfortable in the role, and she really seems to know the character well. And then of course there is her singing voice - Lawrence told me he was completely blown away by her audition, and he couldn't believe she had never been on a professional stage before. He said the callback audition was just a formality ("to make sure I wasn't dreaming the first time," as he put it). She had the part from the first time he heard her sing. It's one thing when family and friends tell you she belongs on a Broadway stage, but when you hear that from people who do this for a living? You start to take those comments a little more seriously.

I've heard rumblings about the show possibly being extended through the end of August, but no confirmation yet. All the weekend shows have sold out already, and the weeknights are filling up.

Two weeks until opening night. It's going to be a great show.

The class of 2010

2010-06-15T08:19:00.007-04:00

Last night, 114 members of the class of 2010 walked across the stage and received their diplomas. One of the things I love about teaching in a small school is that I really have a chance to get to know my students here. I always have mixed feelings on graduation day. I have seen these kids almost every day for the last four years. I have taught them, learned from them, helped them grow, and watched them reach for their dreams. I have coached some of them on the baseball field. I have helped some of them with science and engineering projects. I have helped them fill out college applications, written letters of recommendation, and helped them choose the right college or university for their chosen area of study. I have counseled them about drug and alcohol abuse, talked with them about their personal problems, helped them find their way. I have watched them make mistakes, and helped them pick up the pieces when things went wrong. Most of all, I have watched them grow into responsible young adults. Oh, and somewhere along the way I've taught them a little bit about physics, too - that is my job, after all.

In return for all that, they have taught me how to be a better teacher. I've learned what works and what doesn't. I've learned how to teach an often complex and tedious subject in a way that makes it fun and interesting for them, which also makes it fun and interesting for me. I've learned more about what it means to be a teacher. Every now and then I discover that something I said or did really made a difference, and that feels good. I have learned over the years that every student has a different way of learning, and sometimes all it takes is for the right words to resonate at the right time, and they'll remember those words for the rest of their lives. Which means it's equally true that the wrong words at the wrong time can be just as powerful. I take my responsibility as a teacher very seriously. When a student doesn't make the grade, I see it as a reflection on me, and I ask myself what I could do differently to help them learn. At the end of each year, the students fill out evaluation forms for all of their teachers. It's their turn to grade us and give us feedback on how well we're doing our jobs. There's room for comments at the end, and I always look forward to reading what the students write about me. But I don't think they realize how much I learn from them. Their feedback, both positive and negative, will affect every student who walks into my classroom next year, because I use what I've learned to make myself a better teacher. As long as I am teaching, I will never stop learning how to be a teacher.

When I look out over the sea of caps and gowns on graduation day, I see the future. I see hope in their eyes. I see dreams coming true. I see future doctors, engineers, scientists, architects, business leaders, artists, builders, teachers, computer programmers, and everything else. I see future advances in technology, new discoveries, inventions and innovations, cures for diseases, new ideas and new ways of doing things, all coming from the young people who received their diplomas last night. Some of them will change the world in big ways. Some of them will change the world in small ways. All of them will leave a mark somewhere along their path, and I get to take great pride in knowing that I played a tiny part in guiding each of them toward a path that works for them.

But I'm also sad to see them go, and I know that I will never see most of them again. These kids are like family to me, and I will miss them dearly. In a world where teachers increasingly find the need to distance themselves from their students and teach in a sterile, impersonal, and cookie-cutter environment, I go to great lengths to try to break down those barriers. I go against the grain and try to develop a personal relationship with each and every student. I get to know their parents and I try to understand what their home life is like. I learn who their friends are, who their heroes are, what's important to them. I learn how they think, and what motivates them. I understand the pressures they face outside of the classroom that get in the way of learning, and I use what I know to help them succeed. I don't just teach from a textbook, I teach from my own life and experience, and I sincerely hope that each of them will remember some of what they've learned in my classroom and pass it on to the next generation someday. The most important lessons learned in school don't come from a book.

...

A few months ago I wrote about V, my student whose mother is dying of cancer. When I spoke with her mother back in November, she told me she didn't think she would live to see V graduate in June. She was wrong. She is frail and weak and no longer able to walk, but she was there. And I could feel her pride as she heard V's name announced and watched her cross the stage to receive her diploma. After the ceremony, V pushed her mom's wheelchair over to me, and she thanked me for all of my help. With great effort, her mom stood up from her chair and gave me a hug. I asked her what it was for, and with tears in her eyes, she replied simply, "because you cared enough to make sure V was okay." All I really did for her was offer some support and a sympathetic ear, and a little extra credit work to help her keep her grade up - but I guess it's the little things that matter most sometimes. V graduated with honors in spite of the difficulty she faced this year. I wish her great success in the future, and my thoughts and prayers are with V and her mom and family in the difficult days that lie ahead.

...

Every year for as long as I can remember, the graduating seniors have walked into the ceremony while the band played the traditional "Pomp and Circumstance" graduation march. It broke my heart this year as I listened to them play it for the last time. It saddens me to think of what future graduation ceremonies will sound like. Oh, I'm sure they'll fill in the silence next year by playing recorded music over the loudspeakers, but it won't be the same. And if the trend continues, and music education programs are eventually eliminated everywhere, one day we will all live in a world without music. History will be the judge of those decisions. Music education does matter - I hope our leaders realize that before it's too late. Maybe one day, someone from the class of 2010 will find themselves in a position to put our schools back on the right course again. I hope so.

Congratulations to the class of 2010. You are the future. Make it good.