Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Helpers

During a week like this, when bombs filled with shrapnel explode at the finish line of the iconic Boston Marathon, our federal government fails to represent the people they were elected to serve, an explosion levels a town in Texas, letters laced with ricin are delivered to Senate offices and the White House, and an entire metropolitan area – and our nation – is terrorized, we must, as Mr. Rogers suggests, find the helpers.

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'”  — Fred Rogers

At six and four years old, my kids are still young enough to be shielded from the news (#gratefulmama).  I don’t have to tell them about bad people and scary things that happen in the world, and I don’t have to explain to them how to look for helpers (yet).  But, believe me, I’m still searching for them.  I’m searching for them because I need to see them.

Thankfully, I’ve found a bunch.

Like Team Newtown Strong, a group of parents from Newtown who ran the 26.2-mile Boston Marathon to honor the 26 victims of the Sandy Hook massacre last December.

Like the courageous volunteers, first responders, police, doctors and nurses, and concerned citizens who ran toward the blasts to help victims.

Like the marathon runners who ran straight from the finish line to nearby hospitals to donate blood.

Like the generous Bostonians who gave money, clothing, food, and shelter to cold, hungry, lost, and stranded runners.

Like Newtown father, Mark Barden, who lost his seven-year-old son, Daniel, at Sandy Hook and vowed on the White House lawn to keep fighting for common sense gun control because, in his own words, “we will always be here because we have no other choice.”

Like Gabby Giffords for whom speaking is difficult but made her feelings crystal clear when she wrote in the New York Times, “I’m furious.”

Like the first responders and volunteer fire fighters who raced into the fire in West, Texas.

As a blogger, I spend a lot of time reading other blogs.  I just happened to discover a new one recently called Chasing Rainbows where author Kate Leong writes about her journey to raise her children, including one with special needs.  A week ago, just when I started reading her (beautifully written) blog, her five-year-old with special needs, Gavin, died.  I hadn’t even read enough to know what his disabilities were, but in the end, a series of seizures and cardiac arrest took his young life.

Like Kate Leong who asked her readers to honor her son’s life by doing one simple thing – to help someone in need.

Like little Gavin who in death has already save a life with his kidney donation.

On Friday, I attended the Women’s Fund’s Annual Power of the Purse Luncheon.

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The Women’s Fund is Miami-Dade’s only organization directing all its energy toward creating equal opportunity, access, and influence for women and girls.  Leadership development, reproductive justice, economic security, and freedom from violence are just a few of the issues in which the Women’s Fund invests.  In a place like Miami, where the community is diverse and the socio-economic, ethnic, and gender disparities are enormous, an organization like the Women’s Fund, quite simply, saves lives.

Their luncheon brings together more than a thousand people each year and celebrates an entire community of women and men who make a difference in the lives of women and girls.  While madness unfolded in Boston on Friday, I sat in a ballroom in Miami bursting at the seams with helpers.

And purses (#shopaholicmama).  Oh, the purses!  A silent auction, including to-die-for bags and purses, has become a hallmark of the luncheon.

Salvatore Ferragamo

Salvatore Ferragamo

Prada

Prada

Diane von Furstenberg

Diane von Furstenberg

Lanvin

Lanvin

There were tons of other silent auction items, too, including this one, which had my name all over it!

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Alas, there were no owls to bid on (but I’m not angry or anything).

The Purse is definitely a powerful catalyst for change. For me, though, the real power is the People.

One of the speakers at the luncheon was a teenage girl who beat the odds and broke the cycle of poverty, abuse, and teen pregnancy that swallows girls whole in her neighborhood.  Another was a woman who fought her way back to freedom and economic independence after a sexual assault in the military led her to addiction, crime, and incarceration.

Yeah, as it turns out, finding helpers was easy.

Like the two courageous women at the luncheon who became helpers by merely giving voice to their stories.

Like the hundreds (thousands?) of Bostonians who took to the streets on Friday night to cheer for the police.

Like the stranger at Blue Martini in Fort Lauderdale who bought a round of drinks for everyone at the bar, including perfect strangers, because he wanted to remind people that even in the midst of great suffering, we must remember to experience joy and live life to the fullest.

Like my six-year-old son who gave his ice cream money to a friend at school who forgot to bring his own (#proudmama).

But what about now?  Now that the mayhem is over, the adrenaline has receded, and regular television programming has resumed, will it be as easy to find the helpers?  Will we even be looking?

At Friday night’s press conference after the second Marathon bombing suspect was finally apprehended, I was struck by something said by Col. Timothy Alben of the Massachusetts State Police.  He said, “We’re exhausted.”

Exhausted, indeed.  But let’s keep looking for helpers, okay?  And let’s keep helping.

For Krystle Campbell, Lu Lingzi, Martin Richard, and Sean Collier.  For their families.  For the injured in Boston.  For the victims and their families in Newtown.  For West, Texas.  For Gavin.  For women and girls.  For our kids.  For each other.

Did you look for the helpers this week?

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Filed under death, fear, Grateful Mama, guns, Proud Mama, Shopaholic Mama, Uncategorized

Middle

I read a memoir a while back called The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan.  It’s about a mother of two young daughters who discovers she has breast cancer around the same time her father discovers he has bladder cancer.  It’s about her experience of being both a parent and a child during a medical crisis.  It’s about being in the middle place.

Something happened this week that made me think of this book (excellent, by the way), and it’s probably not what you think.  First, I don’t have breast cancer…or thyroid cancer (not yet, anyway).  Second, my parents are healthy.  They’re doing quite well, actually.  Mike’s parents are fine, too.  What made me think about the book was Harry.

The real Harry is on the left.

The real Harry is on the left.

Tuesday night was a long, rough night.  At about 12:30am, Harry popped out of bed and couldn’t sit still.  For hours, he moved from one spot to another from room to room over and over again grimacing in discomfort.  Something was very wrong.  We rushed him to the vet at 7:30 the next morning only to discover from an x-ray of his stomach and back that he had a degenerated disc and possibly a pinched nerve in his Thoracic, or middle, spine.

Editor’s note:  The x-ray also showed that Harry had a lot of poop in his belly.  According to the vet, the back pain was most likely making it hard for him to do his business.  In an effort to keep things light, the vet said to me with a snicker, “Your dog is full of shit.”  Given the circumstances, he took a sizable risk with this zinger, but he was lucky.  If anyone can handle and appreciate a good poop joke, it’s me.

The disc degeneration is age (and gravity) related and there’s nothing we can do except treat the current inflammation with a non-steroid anti-inflammatory medication and Valium (lucky duck dog!), let him rest, and keep an eye on him.

Not a problem.  I can’t take my eyes off of him!  The love, gratitude, and sympathy I feel for this dog is, quite frankly, more than I can handle.  Somehow my puppy has turned eight, and while he’ll always feel like my baby, he’s transforming into something akin to an aging parent.  I’m smack in the middle of his life cycle, and I feel dizzy.

If it seems like I’m obsessed with death and aging – and I might be – it’s not all my fault.  It’s not just that Dylan no longer wears clothing in sizes that end in “T” or that Riley now sleeps on the top bunk.   Did you see New Kids On The Block on “The Today Show” earlier this week?  They looked, well, old.  (By the way, 98 Degrees was on the show yesterday and they seem to be fairing much better.)  Do you know old Brad Pitt is?  Forty-nine.  Forty-nine.   Wasn’t he just in “Thelma and Louise”?  Oh wait, that was twenty-two years ago!

My mother has never liked her birthday. For years I didn’t understand her birthday malaise.  Now I do.   Then, I was young.  Now, I’m a couple of seasons of “The Voice” away from forty, and my puppy has an ailment that starts with the word “degenerative.”

What’s a girl Runaway Mama to do?  I could pilfer some of Harry’s Valium (I would never), but instead I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that he ages with grace and dignity, and I’m going to take him on a long walk, in the middle of which I hope he has a big, glorious (and graceful and dignified) poop.

Do you have pets? 

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Filed under Harry, health, pets, Uncategorized