Fast Pass

My family and I just got back from a week long vacation to Walt Disney World.  My daughters are 10 and 6 years old, and as far as I am concerned, the absolute perfect ages for The Mouse House.  My youngest is still little enough that everything she sees is magical—that Snow White is THE Snow White, Tinker Bell REALLY flies at the beginning of the fireworks each night, that ghost on the top of our “doom buggy” really is swapping her head for his.  My oldest is in the “girls rule and boys drool” phase of her life.  She knows that Tinkle Bell is really just riding a zip line and the ghosts in the Haunted Mansion are projections; however, she is still young enough that she forgets to be cool sometimes.  There were moments when she walked around a corner to see a character that she wasn’t expecting to be there and break into a huge smile and squeal or without thinking she would start dancing to the music during a parade.  Coming home I realized that the REAL magic of Walt Disney World is the experience it gives the parents.  We got to spend a week watching our children believe that there is magic in the world and then come home realizing that the “magic” was them all along.  It really was such a special trip.

Ok, ok…I know what you are thinking.  I am glossing over the crowds, the heat, the over-priced food, the overtired kids, the LINES…I know, I know.  However, I honestly feel that those things are the price you pay.  Nothing worth having comes free…and the memories that our family will always have of this trip are defiantly worth having, even at that price.  One thing that Disney has instituted that has helped lessen the worst of the blows is The Fast Pass.  For those of you who haven’t been to WDW in a while may not have heard of this, so here’s the deal: The Fast Pass is a pass that gives you a specific time to come back to a ride, bypass most of the line, and hop onto your favorite ride cutting your wait time at the VERY least in half.  “Too good to be true,” you say?  Well, there are some stipulations.  You can only hold one fast pass at a time and cant get a new one until it is past your return time printed on your pass, which, really isn’t that big of a deal.  Most times, you can schedule it so that you get your pass time, go stand in line for another ride, come back just in time to breeze on to your Fast Pass ride, and then get a new pass for the next ride of your choice.  The real secret is to get there early and Fast Pass the rides that are notorious for really long wait times: Space Mountain, Expedition Everest, The Test Track, Splash Mountain, etc. 

I wish I could adequately explain the feeling the Fast Pass gives you.  It is this intoxicatingly strange combination of excitement, arrogance, freedom, barely contained glee…and, to some degree, guilt.  Rushing up those isles, past the bright red faces of heat exhausted children and their parents with their thinly veiled hatred for you at that exact moment as they forget that in just a short time they will become the hated, you really do start to feel badly about your speedy ascension toward whatever endorphin popping experience’s Fast Pass Kiosk that you were clever enough to bee line toward at the beginning of the day was about to provide you.  Now, just as those people that you pass on your “I have a Fast Pass” victory march forget that they will be in your shoes soon, you in turn forget that you will be in theirs.  Those bright red, overheated faced children will be your children.  Those thinly veiled, envy fueled, hateful faces will be your own.  This brings me to the other life lesson that our Walt Disney World vacation taught me:  No matter how clever, organized, or lucky you are, you won’t always the one breezing through on your way to greatness.

By the middle of the week, we had the Fast Pass routine down…or so we thought.  While spending the day in The Animal Kingdom, we decided to Fast Pass the safari ride (animals will be more apt to wander in the morning when it’s cooler) and then Fast Pass Expedition Everest.  Now, Everest is easily the most visibly popular ride at The Animal Kingdom; however, we forgot about the sleeper hit for a summer afternoon: The Rapids.  “Not to worry,” we thought, “we’ll just grab a Fast Pass, go catch The Lion King Show and come back at our assigned time.”  We patted each other on the back at our brilliant planning, knowing that in just a short time we would be on our way down a man made river of white water and receive a wonderfully cool soak for our troubles…one little problem: THE FAST PASS KIOSK WAS CLOSED!! How could this be?  We planned!  We worked the system!  We even sent a runner out ahead of our unit with all of our tickets to ensure no confusion or paper shuffling!  Closed. All the passes for the rapids had been handed out for the day.  So, there we were, in line for over an hour, no end in sight, with no Fast Pass to look forward to on the other side.  Now the challenge came: keeping up the morale and avoiding any mental or emotional break downs.  This is where you separate the men from the…uh, mice… (sorry, couldn’t resist)

All joking aside, we got through it. We were hot.  We were tired. We wanted to jump the divider between the mortals and the fast pass gods, strangle all of the necks attached their happy, normal colored faces and wrestle those FREEDOM ENSURING passes out of their arrogant outstretched hands…but nay, we didn’t.  Because we remembered that just a short, boiling hour ago, we sailed past a 90 minute wait time for Expedition Everest in a record 7 minutes.  While explaining this give and take, get and receive concept to my children, it occurred to me that I needed to remember to apply this to real life back home.  I knew that once we returned from our trip to Fantasy Land, literally, we had a hard reality to face.

Nana has stage 4 lung cancer.  I say “Nana” rather than “My Nana,” because she doesn’t belong to just me…or to just this family, really.  My grandmother is 75 years old, and has spent the majority of those years (minus her first 16 when she wasn’t a wife and mother) as the matriarch of this family.  She has taught her family about everything from civil rights to baking bread, she has wrapped us in her love, fierce protection and quilts for as long as most of us remember while knowing, still, that there are others who remember even further back.  This year on her birthday we celebrated her life and all that she means to us in a presentation full of songs, stories and tears.  Listening to my cousins talk about what Nana has meant to them in their own life made me realize the full scope of what this woman has accomplished using just her tenacity, passion and the wisdom of learning from life’s experiences.  This is a woman who could easily slip from the most avid, insistent civil rights demonstrator to stage diva to cupcake baker with just a change of apron.  She is remarkable.  What she has taught us is remarkable.  What is happening to her, and the knowledge of what is to come, is unbearable.  I keep finding myself looking at other families whose loved ones have less dire prognosis with the same level of distain as I had while looking at those damn Fast Pass holders on the rapids ride…forgetting that not too long ago we were the ones with the Fast Pass.  And, boy, let me tell ya, we sure have been...

Two years ago it was discovered that my daughter’s earlier diagnosis of a non-threatening heart condition was incorrect.  She was in surgery to correct the previous diagnosis when it was realized that what she actually had was a serious, life-threatening condition.  Her little heart had been a ticking time bomb for the previous five years that could have caused her sudden death at any time…and we didn’t even know it until after the whole ordeal was completely over.  When I think about the number of parents who had to endure knowing about this condition for ANY amount of time before their child could be taken into surgery to fix it, I literally shudder.  Five minutes would be too long to worry that your child might just die right in front of you and there would be nothing you could do to save her.  We Fast Passed that.  Big time.

My youngest daughter was tested for cystic fibrosis when she was two years old.  When the results came back positive, my family and I were devastated.  There is no cure for cystic fibrosis and, although medical advancements have come leaps and bounds, there is no such thing as a totally full, long life for the patient.  All I could think was, “I am going to have to bury my child.”  No parent should have feel that, think that, KNOW that, much less do just that.  It simply goes against nature.  Less than 24 hours later her doctor called me at home.  The technician in the lab had misplaced a decimal point.  My daughter was fine.  Fast Pass.

This spring, my Aunt Mimi was diagnosed with a brain tumor that due to the way it was growing was inoperable in some places.  All we could do was pray that they would be able to remove enough, treat enough of it, to keep it from spreading into the sections of her brain that allowed for speech, memory, motor skills, reasoning and that it would be proven to be nonmalignant.  If things didn’t go as we prayed they would, she would be facing an incredibly difficult remainder of her shortened life with very little quality of life.  Today, I am overjoyed to report that she finished her last radiation treatment yesterday, walking out of there in the end with the loss of vision in one eye and a benign tumor that is no longer growing.  All other functions?  As kooky and twisted as before.  In other words…good as new.  Fast Pass.

So, family, I guess it is our turn to wait in the heat with our Nana.  I’m not saying that it is going to be fun.  I’m not saying it is going to be easy.  I’m not even saying that we won’t want to strangle the people we see with Fast Passes at various times.  But, I am saying that we will endure the heat together, the wait together, the frustration and the fear and the anger at the unjustness of it all together…and we will endure the end together.  This will be just like those well planned rides at Disney World—surprises at every turn, some thrilling moments, some scary moments, some moments you can’t wait to be over, some you wish you could do again and again, and, of course, it always ends too soon.  However, when it is all said and done, and I am trying to return to daily life in a world that doesn’t really make total sense anymore, where the words, “fair” and “unfair” don’t really matter, I hope that I remember the parts of the journey that were nothing short of magical.

When Silence Isn't Golden

Last week I was given a jolt that sent my mind crashing into a quote that I once heard the great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. say during the replaying of a speech I was fortunate enough to hear:

"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Some very dear friends of mine, who are a gay couple, were treated horribly by the general manager of a car dealership in my town.  They publish a successful regional magazine and often barter and trade with local business owners for ad space.  One such deal was arranged with this particular dealership—the dealership would exchange the monthly lease on a company vehicle for a full page ad running in each issue of the magazine, (the price of which my friends lowered in order to make this particular exchange possible).  A car was selected, they were assured the cost of the lease would amount to an equal exchange, and deals were made; however, when they were on their way to pick up the chosen car, they were called and informed that they would owe several hundred additional dollars (out of pocket) each month for their lease.  When my friends offered to pick out a different car off the lot that would bring the cost back down to an equal exchange, they were informed that the general manager was “tired of dealing with those fags” and not to bother coming in.  They were horrified and deeply hurt.  Not only was this dealership going back on their word…the man who was behind this reneging also chose to throw out a homophobic slur to, I suppose, dial up the commentary a little...for it served no other obvious purpose.

When I heard about what happened, I was enraged, dumbfounded, and hurt on their behalf.  I could not understand what delusion any person, much less a business person, has to operating under to believe that type of behavior and speech is OK in this society.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe that the freedom of speech is one of those great foundational ideas that our country is built upon; however, I also believe that when that speech is hate-speech and serves no purpose other than to wound others, then the person who chooses to use such language should expect to be called out for it.  Free speech is funny that way—you are free to say what you like so long as you are willing to listen to what others freely have to say about it…which brings us to the moment that Dr. King’s words smacked me upside my head. 

How could I quietly sit by and allow this man to get away with such terrible behavior?  It seemed to me that considering how easily that word was thrown out there, I felt that this probably wasn’t a first time occurrence.  Who else had to be subject to this type of verbal assault and was too shocked, hurt, or embarrassed to correct this man?  Why would I, as their friend, silently sit by and let this go unanswered?  Had I been personally witness to the use of this word, I would certainly have spoken up immediately--whether I knew the people it was directed at or not—so why would I feel the need to stay silent now when it was directed at my friends?  Let me tell you…I certainly did not AND neither, I am proud to say, did a great deal of others.

Two days later, that dealership experienced, what I have termed, a “Call In.”  In the spirit of peaceful protesting and the historical Sit Ins of the civil rights era, we made our upset known by calling in to the business en masse.  By “we” I mean several hundred strong.  Each caller only called one time, read the scripted statement, and then disconnected respectfully.  For two and a half hours the phone lines rang non-stop with people making the following statement:

"Hello, my name is _______ and I am from __________. I am calling on behalf of equal rights and common decency.  I believe that (name of manager of the dealership) owes (Friend 1) and (Friend 2) an apology for his crass behavior and offensive language. He should be ashamed of himself.  Thank you and have a nice day.”

That was it—no more and no less (well, sometimes less as many callers were hung up on within the first few seconds!).  After two and a half hours of people calling in from all over The United States (literally) and a couple of other countries around the world (give it up for the international callers!!), the general manager who was behind the slur heard 'round the world made a phone call to my friends and offered, what appeared to them to be, a very heart felt apology.  In addition to his apology, this man told them that he had learned a tremendous life lesson that day and proceeded to do whatever he could to try and right this very big wrong. 

Doesn’t get much better than that, folks.  Thank you again to all of you who participated in standing up and joining in the effort to make the world think twice about inequality, decency, and respect for our fellow man.  You did the right thing and will inspire others to do the same in the future.  I'm so proud of what was accomplished here!

Lessons Learned:

1.  It is never ok to accept disrespectful behavior.

2. It is never ok to NOT stand up for what’s right…besides, it makes your soul feel good when you do so.

3. Every once in a while, all it takes is a phone call to change the way someone perceives the world around them.

4. Sometimes, it only takes thirty seconds of your day to make your whole week (and then some)!

Final Thought:

Dr. King was right when he said that in the end we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends; however, if I may be so bold as to add on to that thought, I think that in the end, the friends who stand for us and lend their voices to a fight against hatred are the ones that we will never forget. 

Nice R.A.K.

While shopping at Hobby Lobby this weekend for zebra print and hot pink decor for my 6 year's "new" bedroom (Lord help me), my sister and I had the pleasure of experiencing the always elusive R.A.K. (Random Act of Kindness).  We were standing in line and the woman behind us tapped my sister on the shoulder and asked, “Excuse me…do you have a coupon?”  I thought she meant that she needed one, but then she handed us a coupon for 40% off any item not on sale and informed us that all of her purchases were on sale so she would be unable to use it.  As we had a pricier item that was, in fact, NOT on sale, we were really excited.  It seems really lame in the retelling, but just think about it--in all honesty, if you had a coupon for 40% off any item, wouldn’t you go seek out something to buy rather than give it to a couple of total strangers?  I probably would have mainly because it wouldn't occur to me to give it away!  Although, if you think about it, the good feeling goes both ways--it cost her nothing, she was genuinely pleased with our reaction to her kindness and walked out with her head held high and a smile plastered on her face!

This got me pondering the question: why don’t we commit small random acts of kindness that cost us little to nothing, just to make a person’s day?  Especially a stranger’s—makes the gesture even more unexpected. 

So, armed with my new found “do nice things” attitude, I would like to share some things that I guarantee, will make somebody else’s day and in turn make yours as well.  Let’s face it—it’s fun to nice things for other people--it makes you feel good about yourself!  Ok...here goes:

1.  Help load someone’s groceries into their car.  I did this at Wal Mart for two sweet, older ladies who were tickled pink to have some help.  It cost me nothing, it took less than two minutes and they drove away smiling and waving.

2.  If an employee of a store/restaurant/etc. is doing a good job representing their company, make it a point to tell their manager.  Retail and food service jobs are extremely difficult and often thankless jobs.  Employees have deal with the public (the good, the bad, and the unreasonable) in a profession where it is easy to make a customer mad and it honestly have nothing to do with anything that the employee has personally done wrong or had any control over.  Keep in mind that when managers get customer feedback about an employee it is usually negative, so it stands to reason that it is a bit of a relief to hear something positive.  And, it’s nice to be told that you are doing a good job every now and then.  Again, costs nothing, takes little to no time at all, and it makes someone’s day.

3. (This third example of a R.A.K. is by far my favorite!) One day while you are paying for lunch at a drive through—Burger King, Taco Bell, Wendy’s, etc.—pay for the car behind you as well.  This is usually a $5.00-$10.00 investment and it will rock your world when you watch the reaction of the person in the next car in line via your rear view mirror.  I started these drive through R.A.K.’s three years ago around Christmas time and all I would ever say to the employee at the window was to please pass along my wishes for a happy holiday season.  Keep in mind this doesn’t have to apply only to the holidays!  “Happy Wednesday!” works wonders as well!  Trust me—it is the most fun and you will laugh to yourself the whole way back to work!

So, where do we go from here?  Well, I’d like to suggest that you pick one of these three Random Acts of Kindness and apply it to your week.  Trust me when I say that it will not only become something that you will incorporate into your daily life, but you will inspire other people to do the same type of thing…and it will be the highlight of your day! 

Share your experience in the comment section and it can serve as the "Lesson Learned" portion for this blog!  Can't wait to hear your stories! Also, feel free to post other ideas for a Random Act of Kindness...would love to have some new tricks up my sleeve!

Nothing In Common

I was thinking today about family interaction.  I have two siblings, a brother and a sister, who are 4 and 8 years younger than me, respectively.  It is an interesting place, the top of the heap.  It comes with a different sense of responsibility, expectation and a fiercer sense of protection, which, if I’m being honest, has caused a scuffle or two in the past amongst the three of us.

What got me on this perspective, reflective, dejected journey in the first place was hearing a Jason Robert Brown song called, “Nothing In Common.”  It’s a heartfelt love song to his brother, David.  Naturally, it explores all of the stereotypical big brother/little brother situations, but it does so in a way that gives us a peek into the subtext of those situations which are how we, as siblings, say I love you without betraying our childhood vows to hate each other until the day we die.  Just a little tip from me to you--find it on iTunes and download it immediately.  

Anyway, getting back on track, it got me thinking about my relationships with my sibs and wondering if I have made it easy for them to be able to read my subtext—what my purpose for being the pain in the…ahem…that I know I can be and how I, be it good or not so good, convey my love and respect for them.

If you were to ask my brother what he believes my opinion of him to be, I’m not sure it would be 100% accurate.  I think he would get the “how” but not the “why.”  He would probably say that I am very critical of him—which I can be—and that I am critical of him because of some small sort of disappointment I feel in the man he has grown to be.  Nothing could be farther from the truth, but I don’t think I have ever really said that to him without it being hidden behind, “What are you doing with your life?!”  I suppose I felt like I had shown him that I care by encouraging (nagging) him about working harder, studying harder, taking more responsibility, but I have never said to him, “You have the most potential of anybody I have ever known and I expect great things from you because you are capable of them. You possess a brilliant mind, a sweet nature, a loyal soul, and more charm than the entire population of Ireland and whatever you set your sights on you can achieve as long as you remember to stay focused.”  What makes me sad is that not only have I not said that, I haven’t said it over and over and over until I know that he believes it as well.  I have to say, reading the subtext for that is much easier than reading the subtext for, “What are you DOING?!”

Ok, baby sister's turn.  I really don’t think there is the major communication breakdown with her that I tend to have with my brother, but that is the nature of women.  Sisters, on average, have no trouble running on and on and on and on until the subject has been beaten to death, resurrected, and battered again.  However, the problem with that much communication is that often times word count out weighs content.  Over thinking happens.  Saying too much happens.  Offering up opinions and advice when they aren’t requested happens…and not following said advice can lead to feeling like one has let said advisor down.  I feel like this happens a lot where my sister is concerned.  I have a strong personality. I have a big mouth and big opinions…and there are times when I let my big mouth and big opinions overload my big butt.  Often, when I feel like she has been wronged or her heart has been damaged, my big personality comes out swinging and forgets to let her fight her own battles; and, perhaps my reactions lead her to believe that I think her incapable of doing so.  The thing about it is…while I have a strong personality, she is a strong person.  She has come through some pretty tough times.  Times that would make a lesser person bitter, distrusting, or down right cynical; however, she has done so while keeping her compassion, her grace, and her hope.  It takes a secure person to be able to do that and I have so much respect for her. She is the bravest person I know and the silent rock of this family.

So, there you have it.  Little brother is the brains, little sis is the brawn and I am the mouth piece.  We are a pretty good team…when we allow ourselves to be.  We just need to get the hand signals down so that we all know what the other is thinking without feeling like we have to call for a time out to converse…which almost always leads to a clearing of the benches…(how’d you like that little baseball analogy?) 

Lessons Learned:

1.  Even though my criticisms came from a place of love, they didn’t usually translate that way.

2.  I need to do a better of job letting others fight their own battles while I stand aside and cheer them on or patch up their wounds after a big win.

3.  Giving encouragement isn’t easier than tearing someone down, but it leaves both parties feeling much better about themselves and each other afterwards.

Final thought

So often, we assume too much.  Perhaps we should start assuming that others do not, in fact, read our minds and know our motivations for what we say--our subtext, if you will.  We should remember that our actions do not always speak louder than our words and that there are only so many times that a person can be made to feel worthless or helpless before they are convinced of it.  It takes a long time and a lot more words to undo that knot.  If you believe in someone, if you count on someone to be your solid base, if your heart breaks when their heart breaks, and if you would walk through fire if it meant that they would know every second of their life that you are always there for them, that you believe in them, that you expect the greatest of the great from them because they are exceptional, and that you would fight their battles for them if they needed you to...then you walk through that fire so that there is no confusion--and you do it without waiting for them to ask you to.  Or...you save yourself the blisters and just say so.

These are a few of My Favorite Things!

Some of my "loyal readers" (ha!) have already read the inspiration for this particular post, but I have decided to post it here so that my thousands of new readers (double ha!) have the opportunity to hear this story and the rest of you can look for the revised sections! 

November 8, 2010 was a day that I was set solidly down on the wildest, week long ride of my life full of twists, turns, sentimental moments and a HUGE SURPRISE ending that even I could never have imagined.  

In the summer of 2010 I signed up to receive a daily newsletter from Oprah.com.  Before you judge, remember that this was just prior to her FINAL season--I wanted to be sure to have a head's up on the super duper shows promised during the final season of The Oprah Winfrey Show.  Still a tad lame...I know.  I own it--get it?  O.W.N. it?  Never mind.  In one of my daily emails from Oprah.com there was a section asking the question: “Do you have a personal hero in your life that you don’t feel you ever able to thank?”  If the answer was yes, viewers were encouraged to send in their story via The Oprah Winfrey Show website.  Now, let me say this early on…contrary to what you might assume about someone who takes the time to write a blog, I am NOTthe type of person who writes in to talk shows.  Anyway, the question got me thinking.  While I have many people I admire in my life—family, friends, etc.—there is one person whose actions made a difference in my life from the moment he entered it.

Here’s the story:

In May of 1996 I woke up late for work after going to a high school prom with a dear friend of mine, (shout out to Richard and all the other Bradshaw High School 1996 Prom participants!).  I stopped at a gas station and when I got back in the car I forgot to put on my seat belt.  While driving down the road, I reached across to grab hold of the buckle and veered into oncoming traffic where I slammed into another vehicle head on. I honestly didn’t even see it coming.  The next thing I remember is opening my eyes to a shattered sky—that’s what I thought it was in my confusion-- in the most excruciating pain imaginable.  Later I learned that I was lying in the floorboard of my car, or at least most of me was, looking upward.  The bottom portion of my right leg was turned the wrong way due to a compound fracture of the knee (meaning part of the knee cap was on the outside of my body) and the bottom half of my leg was stuck under the dash board causing my ankle to be crushed.  My head and shoulders were jammed against the passenger side door which was bent outward from the middle, resulting in a portion of my body to be laying on the street while the rest of my body was trapped in my car.  The driver’s side was completely crushed inward.  In a manner of speaking, I was in very bad shape.

I was called in as an entrapment and a probable fatality.  When the fire department arrived on the scene, included on their truck was a 24 year old man named Shane Puckett.  Shane was a rookie fire fighter who had yet to even leave the firehouse before this sunny Saturday morning.  He had completed his training but still had to take his EMT test and because of that he was sent to my side to confirm the fatality rather than to attend to the man in the other vehicle, (emergency workers aren’t allowed to touch a living victim until they have completed their training and taken their test).  As he walked towards my car he expected to find the worst considering there was no movement from me at all; but, as he got closer he could hear what he described as “whimpering.”

From my perspective, there are only flashes of memories from that day and the several days that followed.  One thing I do remember clearly is the voice of “my angel”-my name for him after I woke up in I.C.U. before I knew his real name.  I could recall hearing this deep voice that said to me, “Don’t worry, darlin’…I’m here to help…” among other calming things.  It was that voice that kept me present and anytime I could feel myself start to drift, it would bring me back to center.  Once I was conscious in the hospital, I asked about who that voice could have been and never got any answers; so, I assumed it must have been some higher power.  Turns out I was mostly correct…

Back to the scene of my accident—

Several firefighters had tried to find a way to open the door of my car to no avail and so they had decided that the only means of extraction was to cut me out.  The problem with that scenario was that while the tools are effective, they can take a long time.  Shane felt that I didn’t have that kind of time and so he walked over to my car, asked another fireman to get ready to catch me and proceeded to rip the door off of my car.  He bent, broke and pulled away a METAL DOOR from the frame of a car!  When my parents arrived at the hospital they were told about what Shane had done…and then were told that it was a good thing that he had made the decision he did.  After a medical evaluation at the hospital it was discovered that I had massive internal bleeding and had they waited for the equipment needed to cut the door off of the car, I would have bled to death internally at the scene.  My family was shocked at both the news of my condition and the heroism displayed by a young firefighter they had yet to meet.  They were given no further information about who had done this incredible thing.

Several months later, my mother was asked to speak in church one Sunday morning about my car accident.  As she is not comfortable speaking in public in any way, shape or form she almost didn’t do it.  I’m glad she did because that day there was a young firefighter visiting the church with his beautiful wife and brand new baby girl.  It was Shane.  After my mother spoke about “Keri’s Angel” as well as the nameless firefighter who ripped metal to save my life…up walked Shane with tears in his eyes to tell her that he was who she had been speaking about!  He was the voice of my angel AND the man who somehow found the super human strength needed to save my life.  He said that the vision of me—“looking like a broken rag doll”--had haunted him every day since and how he nearly quit after my accident because he didn’t think he was cut out for that kind of work—“pulling broken, bleeding kids out of cars.”  Thank God he didn’t quit because he was made for this kind of work…he is brave, strong and unbelievably humble.
Back to the scene of the email--

So, when I stopped to think of the hero in my life…of course I thought of Shane.  I wrote in and honestly forgot all about it until I opened my email on November 8th and sitting in my inbox was a letter from The Oprah Winfrey Show inviting Shane and me to come to Chicago to attend a taping of a show focusing on heroes!  I called Shane and, although it had been several years since we had spoken, he knew me right away saying, "Well, hello, darlin'!"  I laughed out loud at the greeting i remembered from so long ago and then asked if he was free to head up to Chicago the following Monday to go see Oprah. Needless to say, he jumped right on board!  

The week that followed was a whirlwind of travel plans, DECIDING WHAT TO WEAR (!!), packing and a lot of reflection over the past 14 years since that fateful day that he gave me back my life.  Before we knew it, we were sitting down in the audience of The Oprah Winfrey Show!  Out walked Oprah, in this rather frumpy black dress, to tell us that we were going to be discussing heroes and exploring the art of meditation (cue the Chinese GONG!)…I must say, we were all looking rather confused and skeptical.  She told us all to breath and to reflect and….then it started SNOWING—real snow, by the way—sleigh bells took over the gong sounds and the audience went wild!  It was "Oprah's Ultimate Favorite Things" episode!  As   Oprah ripped off that frumpy black dress to reveal a beautiful red holiday gown, the screeching of the crowd sounded like they let loose axe murderers into the studio and locked all the exit doors.  Even Wes Craven would have been impressed with the blood curdling screams!  It was, in a word, incredible.



Lessons Learned:
1.  Remember to never judge people who are on newsletter lists for daytime talk shows.
2.  Sometimes all it takes is remembering to say "Thank You." to make a major impact on a person's life. (Side note--I did, in fact, send a hand written thank you note to Sharvonne Turner-who was in charge of booking that show-and to Ms. Oprah Winfrey!)
3.  Remembering to remain thankful can make a major impact on your life.
4.  Living each day as if yesterday could have been your last will help you to remember the previous three lessons.



Final thoughts:
Oprah was beautiful, the gifts were unbelievable (and remain that way to this day), and the experience was remarkable…but what I will always carry with me from that day is the moment I looked up at Shane and realized that I had finally found some way to show him my gratitude.  There is NO way to thank him for giving me my life.  He made it possible for me to LIVE—to meet my partner in life, convince him to marry me and proceed to have the two most beautiful children ever to walk the Earth…along with all the other incredible LIFE experiences along the way.  How do you thank a person for that?  You can’t; but, if you are lucky, you get to have MS. OPRAH WIIIIINFREEEEEEEY do it for you! 

A Duck Is Born

Back in 2006, when my first child was in Kindergarten, I was asked to chaperone a field trip that the class was taking to a local farm. Activities included picking through a pumpkin patch, going on a hay ride, scarecrow building, and observing the barnyard animals.  During our visit to the animal pens they introduced us to these two ducks that showed up on the farm and made their home among the chickens. Now, what was so unusual about these ducks was that rather than quacking, they "clucked" like their new chicken friends! They did everything that the chickens did, but they were obviously NOT true chickens. Immediately I began to feel a kinship with these confused little creatures who were trying so hard to fit in all while fooling no one!
I had left the house that day feeling all the excitement that a parent feels during a "first"--first birthday, first day of school, first REAL fieldtrip...you get the point.  Then, when I arrived at my daughter's school that morning I was suddenly filled with the same kind of dread that you got in high school when you realized that you were wearing the shoes that went out of style last month but you had just gotten them--they'll do, but they aren't the jam anymore.  All the other moms were in, what I call, "Impress the Other Chickens" gear--full hair and make up, dressy slacks, embroidered sweaters (Lord help me), high heeled boots, designer PURSES, for crying out loud, and there I was...Dressed to Impress No One in jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt, my trusty baseball cap (Go, Yanks!), and the oldest pair of sneakers I own because, well, we were going to a FARM. I felt so out of place.  Looking at those two awkward little waddlers in a coup of strutting hens was like looking in a mirror.  I was a Chicken Duck. I had inhabited the coup but was fooling no one as I waddled around with my head angled slightly downward and diligently made my way through all of the fluffed up Chickens who naturally stood tall and strutted about admiring each other. Sadly, my duckiness only got worse as the day moved on. While meeting the rest barnyard animals, did I linger several paces back with the rest of the hens?  No.  Without a thought, I sat down in the middle of the paddock and allowed my face licked by the sheep! One would think that the looks of horror I received would have been comical, but to me, at the time, they were nothing short of incriminating.  There I sat in the middle of a barnyard animal pen, looking like I was literally raised in a barn. My defiant nature pushed me to stay the course--never let 'em see ya cry, right?  So, I got up, dusted myself off (literally), and moved on to the next part of our tour...the building where they incubate the eggs.  Incredibly, as we turned the corner from one row of eggs to the next, the farmer stopped us.  One of the eggs was about to hatch!  We all got super excited at the prospect of watching a new life come into this world and moved in for a closer look.  The shell split at the tip and a little bill peeked out...it was a duck!  All of the Chickens were ooohing and ahhhing and postulating on how this tiny duckling is the "sweetest thing EVER!", and all I could think was "Go figure. This duck is cute now, but wait 'til it tries to be a chicken--you'll just laugh at it."  I took my daughter's hand in a solo showing of solidarity and subconsciously put myself between her and the Chickens.
We finished out the day and headed back the way we came--some of us (namely me) significantly dirtier and less enchanted than when we first arrived. That evening at dinner while playing our nightly "Best Part/Worst Part" game, I sat anxiously wondering what my daughter was going to say for her "The Worst Part of My Day was...." I worried that she picked up on my Chicken Duckiness and, as a result, I had embarrassed her in front of her classmates who had mother hens who knew how to stay clean. Luckily, we start with the Worst so we can end with a high note, so I didn't have to wait long and therefore avoided a "JUST SAY IT ALREADY!! I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!" moment of screeching insanity that would only have resulted in tears and more embarrassment...but, I digress...

Per my daughter:
Worst Part--"When we had to leave the farm."
Best Part--"When mommy sat in the middle of the animals and held the babies for me to pet! It was the first time I got to pet a lamb!"

To this day I don't think that she understands why her mommy burst into tears over that. At the time, I really didn't either.  If you had asked me in the moment, I would have said that I was relieved not to have embarrassed her--and that was part of it; however, I have realized over the several years that have passed since that day that there were much deeper lessons to be learned.  While I spent a great deal of energy that day focusing on how awkward I felt, I allowed myself to be drawn away from the wonder of that day.  That day wasn't about me.  It was about celebrating some of my daughter's firsts--her first field trip, her first time on a "real school bus" (as she called it), her first trip to a farm, her first time to witness life come into this world and her first time petting a lamb.  None of those firsts had anything to do with the first time her mommy realized that she wasn't a Chicken. 

Lessons learned:
1. Being present in a moment also means realizing that it's not always about me and my moment.  My self centered, negative and insecure thoughts took me away from the beauty of the day.
2. You don't have to be a Chicken and you don't have to be a Chicken Duck (a duck who wants to be a chicken but it just isn't in the cards for it to be so). 
Final Thoughts:
It's ok to be a waddling, quacking, awkward Duck. Under all the rough and tough or strut and fluff--we're all a little foul.  The world needs a little more duckiness and hopefully those around you will learn to experience life in a more unique way.  You need to feed your inner ugly duckling with knowledge, experience, compassion, understanding, presence, and a good sense of humor about yourself and it will grow into exactly what it is meant to be--a healthy, beautiful DUCK!