Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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A new website for the Truck Safety Coalition

I was going to write today about my woody peony which is in bloom.  It’s beautiful, and this is the first spring I’ve had it.  But just moments ago I received an email from the Truck Safety Coalition that our new website is up.  So of course I went to see.

Click here to see it.

I got caught up in the memorial photographs.  Many of the more recent ones have little bios about the people that were killed.  If you have a strong heart go there and look.  The pictures are alphabetical and I only got as far as the C’s before I couldn’t see through the tears and had to stop.  Maybe we should revamp the new website again so that this list flips back and forth, sometimes A-Z, sometimes Z-A…because I don’t think anyone will be able to look at all of them, and those at the back of the alphabet deserve our attention as well.

You can also listen to a few stories, short video clips of some of us talking about our losses.  Tissues will be needed I’m afraid.
There’s a lot of  important information on the site, and if you ever have anyone you know that needs us, just let us know.  I hope you never do.

Dad’s last name was Badger, so I saw his picture among the memorials.  It’s hard to see it there, he just shouldn’t have had to die that way.

Thanks for all your support when I ramble like this.


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Sleep apnea and truck drivers

I’ve been in Baltimore…did I forget to tell you?  There was a sleep apnea conference sponsored by the ATA (American Truck Association) and the FMCSA (Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration).  We at Truck Safety Coalition have improved our relationships with these two organizations enough to attend the opening reception…and to award a Safety Leadership award – our first ever – to a man who is in charge of safety at one of the country’s largest truck companies.

And as if it was meant to be, the man who has done the most to improve safety over the past six years is the man in charge of safety at the truck company that killed Dad.  The man who looked all of us kids in the eye years ago and promised he’d do something to make the roads safer.  And though there is still a long way to go, which he acknowledged, he has worked tirelessly to make a difference, all the while keeping Dad’s picture on his desk as a constant reminder.

I was able to say a few words about Dad and about Mr. Osterberg’s work, and to hand him the award on Tuesday night.  I truly believe that Dad would have approved of what Mr. Osterberg has done so far.  And that Dad would continue to push for more.  So we will too.

There were probably 200 people in the ballroom during the cocktail and finger food reception where we spoke.  I thought perhaps, since we were going last, that most would wander away after Anne Ferro, the FMCSA administrator made her welcoming speech.  But I didn’t notice anyone leaving.  And several people told me later that you could hear a pin drop while I was talking about Dad.  That makes me feel good.

I think we made some progress that night, in mending years of wary sparring between organizations.   Maybe now everyone will realize we aren’t anti-trucking.  We’re  for safe trucking.  It’s a common goal and we can waste less time and resources if we work toward it together.

Thanks Mr. Osterberg, for remembering Dad and for working so hard to “fix it.”  We’ll be watching for the next developments.


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Happy Birthday Dad

Today is Dad’s 81st birthday.  I was walking at the mall this morning and a smallish man was walking ahead of me, built quite a bit like Dad, baseball cap on, and if I squinted he could a sort of might have looked like Dad.  But not really.  Funny how I keep looking for him.

A week or so ago I was corresponding via email with the mother of a young woman named Channing who was killed in a crash a year ago.  She was struggling at the one year anniversary with the fact that she felt worse now than she did at the time of the crash.   She also said she felt bad that she had been “taking” and not giving anything back, as she knows we have suffered a similar loss.  This is what I wrote back to her.  I didn’t mean it to run on the ways it does, or get so philosophical, the words just came.

“I don’t think it’s unusual for it to be more difficult for some people after the first year.  I think at first you’re running on adrenalin, getting through the first day, the first week, month, first holiday, first birthday without them.  And sometimes you think that if you can survive the first year that it will all go away.  But it doesn’t go away and that causes you to be even more depressed.  Because you start to believe that you’re facing years and years and forever feeling just like you feel right now, and you feel pretty horrible right now.  And the pain is so intense that sometimes you can’t breath and you can’t imagine not being able to breath for the rest of your life.  And you feel hopeless and you want to crawl away somewhere and cry forever.

But I’m here to tell you that though the pain doesn’t go away entirely, it will eventually recede to a manageable level.  I don’t know if the pain actually moves away or if we just learn how to manage it better.  Your counseling sessions with your family, if led by someone you connect to, will help you learn, will give you hope, will teach you tools to make some days better.  And then a few more days will be better.  And someday you will laugh about something and you will be surprised because you don’t remember the last time you laughed.  And then you will fee guilty.  And than later on, maybe days or months, you will laugh again, maybe even at a memory of something Channing did, and you will realize that it’s alright to laugh.  That you’re not dishonoring her by being happy.  Her life is not discounted because you have moved beyond the pain.  That making yourself stay in the pain is not going to bring her back, and that the way to honor her is to do good works, tell her story,and love her forever.

Someday you will be there, I promise.  And then you will be able to take some newly injured family and hold them close to your heart and they will say, “we’re taking but we’re not giving.”  And you will know that they are in fact giving, they are giving you the opportunity to do something good with your pain.  And then you will have completed the circle.  And Channing will smile.”

I tell you this, dear blog readers, not to tell my story all over again, because I’ve done that here many times, but to let you know how much I appreciate your patience when I head down this road again.  Because it’s here that I can lay the pain and let some of it go.  For whatever reason, if there is something sad hanging onto me and I put it down in writing it loses some of its hold.  And though I know that it’s not fair to spread that pain among all of you, especially those I’ve never met and aren’t related to, it does help.

And so I thank you for reading and listening and caring and helping me remember my Dad.  On his 81st birthday.  Tonight.

Braun and Badger 105


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Haiti

I feel an extra emotional connection while I watch news footage of the massive 7.0 earthquake in Haiti.  It doesn’t look like many structures survived, and there are likely thousands dead.  The extra little tug I feel is caused by the fact that the truck driver that killed Dad in 2004 was from Haiti.  He had been in the US only a couple of years.  Likely he has family still in Haiti.

I only saw him once; at his only court appearance.  For whatever reason, killing someone with a semi is only a misdemeanor.  So when we went into a Georgia court to find out how he was going to plead we were dismayed to find ourselves in a courtroom filled with people there for nonpayment of child support, under age drinking and one guy who had burned tires in his yard without a permit.  Then there was us.  We were the only people there dressed in suits, other than one man and his attorney.  We knew instantly that the well dressed man nervously sitting with an obvious attorney was “our” driver.  Turns out he had been advised to plead “no contest” which doesn’t admit guilt but also meant he didn’t have to go to trial.  I think his attorney had worked out a deal with the Prosecutor that if he plead no contest he’d get off with probation.  They didn’t count on our family showing up from all over the country and providing the judge with heartfelt impact statements.

We had a wonderful judge that allowed us to make our impassioned statement and who took the time to silently read statements we had sent to the Prosecutor previously.  I remember  being in that courtroom, my brother standing beside our driver reading the family’s statement of grief and loss.  I remember the driver rocking back and forth on his toes not looking at us.  I remember the noisy courtroom hushing as people realized what we were talking about.  I remember the stifled sound of  sobs from some women, people we didn’t know, when my brother said that my sister couldn’t listen to Christmas music without crying anymore.  I remember a court officer, guarding the back door, wiping his eyes.

We wanted some jail time, to make the point that killing someone wasn’t just the cost of doing business, and the judge gave the driver the most she could, 30 days.  We were grateful.  The driver’s attorney protested loudly, saying that people fell asleep driving all the time.  The judge responded with a quote from our impact statement; “We expect more from professional drivers.”  The driver was escorted out and it was done.

The judge asked for a recess, and we all started to move out of the room.  Along the way people we didn’t know and would never meet again stood up, offered their hands and condolences.  It took some time to get out of the room.  Out in the hall I felt a bit of a letdown as I moved toward the exit.  Then I realized none of my family was with me, and I turned back to find them.  They were standing in a clump in the middle of the hall…with the judge, still in her robes.  She had come out to tell us she was sorry.  She was sorry about our loss, and she was sorry she couldn’t have done more.  She didn’t understand, you see, that we were thrilled with her ruling.  We had been warned that he would likely get off with probation and that we would probably be disappointed in the process.  Instead she did just as we asked, and we thanked her for that.  She had tears in her eyes.  So did we.

The driver  risked being deported back to Haiti by pleading no contest to a misdemeanor.  I have no idea if he ended up being sent back but I hope not.  It has always been my hope that he was able to stay and raise his two children here, that he turned out to be as fine a dad as ours was, that he used the lessons he learned from this experience to raise wonderful, contributing children. That in his own way he makes the world a better place  just like Dad made the world a better place.

So as I watch the footage of Haiti I hope that he and his family are not there.  I hope they are safe in Florida and that he has found peace.  But I know that very likely someone he loves has died a horrible violent death and that even if he is not there himself  he now knows the intesne grief that sudden death brings to survivors.  I hope he can cope, I hope he has the support we had.  And still have.

I wish him and his family well.


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5 years

Dad 044 It was five years ago today that Dad was killed.  It seems like yesterday, and a hundred forevers all at the same time.  Much was lost and much has been learned.  Where once I cried in mourning, now I cry angry tears,  and I’m determined that we’ll win our fight for safety.  That’s progress I suppose-from mourning to anger.  Still, I wish I could have remained unwittingly ignorant.

I wish that he was still here.


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Change at the DOT and the FMCSA?

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It’s hard to know where to start talking about the Truck Safety Coalition’s meetings with the Department of Transportation and the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration over the last two days.  First of all it’s important to understand that the past relationship between us and these agencies hasn’t always been close.  OK.  Let’s be honest, there just hasn’t been any workable relationship with them at all in the past.  I attended a meeting in 2005 where I and members of other grieving families told our stories and asked for help enforcing existing safety rules.  The DOT staff sat stone faced, finger pointing at each other and other agencies and nothing ever came from any of our meetings. So it was with great hope that we accepted the invitation from newly confirmed Administrator Ann Ferro (we lost our vigorous battle to have her denied confirmation as head of the FMCSA) and the Secretary of Transportation Raymond LaHood to meet and talk about our (hopefully mutual) goals.

In a strange sort of way perhaps we are lucky that Ann Ferro, a member of the trucking industry lobby, was nominated by President Obama.  Because she was, and because we made such a ruckus about her, we got noticed.  Our squeaky wheel got attention.  And so it was that I found myself sitting in a big leather chair around a giant conference table in the DOT; sitting with a couple of other families, several attorneys, and other safety advocates including Ralph Nader.  I was sitting right next to Secretary LaHood, with a series of pictures of Dad and his smashed car resting on the table in front of the two of us.  As he did the introduction remarks, sweeping his glance around the table he had to keep looking at those pictures.

On behalf of grieving families everywhere we at Truck Coalition presented Mr. Secretary with two collage panels that showed over 120 pictures of the faces of crash victims.  Sadly, that’s just a fraction of the 5,000 people that are killed each year in crashes, or the 100,000 that are severely injured each year.  Dad’s photo was among those on the collage.  We told the Secretary that we appreciated his well known and often voiced commitment to safety.  But that we’d heard it before and we were skeptical.  Eventually our skepticism irritated him, but I don’t think he’ll forget us.  We asked that the Hours of Service Rules (the number of hours a truck driver can drive in a row, and the hours of required rest) be totally revamped.  The agency has tried twice before to get new rules passed, each time we took them to court because their “new” rule was no better, and sometimes worse for others on the road as well as the drivers themselves.  We don’t want the “new” administration to just tweak what had already been attempted.  We want a totally new overhaul, and one that makes sense.  And we want teeth in the rules so that they are enforceable, which in our view, requires the mandated installation of Electronic On Board Recorders (EOBRs) that will record when a truck is moving and when it is at rest so that the log books can no longer be fudged in order to get more work out of tired drivers.

We were repeatedly assured that “this is not your grandmother’s DOT.”  Well.  We’ll see.

This morning we had a followup meeting with Administrator Ann Ferro and her team alone.  We presented collages to her as well, and I told her that when she looks into the faces of those people I hoped she would remember that all the decisions she makes need to be made on the side of safety.  That changes have to be made in order to save lives, and of the people in the room, only she has the power to save lives.  We talked more specifically about the research behind our requests, some of which we don’t think she is aware.  We were again assured that it’s a new day at the DOT.  She seems personable and interested.  And we have to say we haven’t been this welcomed ever in the past.  But her staff are the same people that have been there for years and years.  We aren’t sure that she will be able to make such significant changes in an agency (the FMCSA) that is so dominated and controlled by the American Trucking Association (ATA) who has no interest in making themselves any more accountable than they already are.  Which is negligible at best.

So here I am in my hotel tonight.  Exhausted.  Hopeful.  I want so much to believe them.  And truly, I can understand their frustration at our skepticism.  They don’t know how to make it more clear to us that things will change, they just reiterate their mantra that “Safety is their number one concern.”  But we need actions, not words.  I so hope that they mean what they say and that they can find a way to work through the distractions thrown at them by the ATA and others who have for years blasted us as “anti-trucking.”  We know the economics of the issue.  We know that the nation’s economic well being rests on the back of truckers.  We all want to be able to go to our local stores and buy the latest and the best for reasonable prices.  But we can’t do it at the cost of innocent lives, both in cars and in the cabs of the trucks hauling that stuff across our country.

Dad worked in manufacturing his whole life.  He focused on safety at his plants and mandated any safety issues get fixed now.  I told that to Secretary LaHood.  As I spoke he turned his chair and we looked into each others eyes.  I told him that when Dad saw something that was unsafe in his work environment he made sure it got fixed now.  There was no long debate spanning years or argument over definitions.  He’d bust butt to make sure his people were safe.  If it was broken it got fixed.  Immediately.  I could not ask for anything less from the DOT.  Mr. Secretary nodded.  I hope he heard, I think he did.

Today as I was sitting in the FMCSA’s conference room across the table from Ms. Ferro I would periodically glance at the picture of Dad which lay on the table in front of me.  “Hey Dad!” I’d think, “Are you listening?  Do you hear this?  Can you believe it?  Ann Ferro, the new head of the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Association knows your name!   Transportation Secretary LaHood has heard your story!  You’re making a difference Dad!  Can you even believe we’re sitting here?”  When I was ten years old I never would have dreamed that I’d be sitting at a table with Ralph Nader and a Cabinet Secretary.  That I’d have dinner with Mr. Nader after and discuss safety issues.  It goes to show that you just never know.  Before 2004 I never knew.  Sometimes I wish I still didn’t know.  But I can’t discount the personal growth all of this has given me.

Tonight I cry easily, the result of the stress being released.  I slept for four hours after I got back to the hotel.  In the middle of the day.  This is so important, we are so close to having impact.  We have made a tiny chink in the DOT armor…they know we’re out there and they know we aren’t going away.  But the personal cost to us is beyond measure, both in the loss of our family member and to ourselves personally.  Reliving the details of that terrible day, the details of the way we each lost someone we loved takes it’s toll.  As one woman who has been working on this for over twenty years said, “it feels like we’re going through the funeral every time we do this.”  It would feel so good to be able to put this all behind us, to move on with our own lives, hold those we love close in a more personal, less public way.

But we can’t.  Because those 120 faces looking out of that collage are asking for help to save lives.  And no one is going to do it but us.  The price we paid has to have been worth something.  I can’t express how much I hope it was.

After today’s meeting I toured the Library of Congress.  On a wall there I read “They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts.”  I have heard over and over again from victims’ families how alone they felt before they found our group.  I hope our noble thoughts comfort us all as we work through these difficult issues.

Love you Dad.

Dad 001


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The problem isn't just in Florida – it's everywhere

Here’s an 8 minute video from a news station in Florida, talking about the increased risk of semi truck crashes, and telling the story of the semi-school bus crash that occurred in Florida in September 2008.  Be warned, it’s pretty hard to watch.  But it’s the reason we have to keep fighting the fight.

http://cbs4.com/video/?id=85849@wfor.dayport.com

Meanwhile, to all of you out there, stay safe, keep alert, give those big trucks a wide berth, and try not to be stopped in traffic on a busy road or freeway.

Miss you Dad.

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Food critic

Janelle's Place, Byron MI We’re just home from a wonderful meal at Janelle’s Place, a family restaurant in the tiny rural town of Byron Michigan, population 562.  Their slogan is; “Janelle’s Place, a little slice of heaven.”

My husband I make the hour trip over to Byron to eat on occasion because it’s owned by a friend of ours, Janelle’s Dad.  Janelle was 15 years old when she was killed three years ago, while driving home from a family trip.  Her Dad, Mom, cousin and family dog were all in the car with her.  She was the only one killed when a semi truck crashed into the back of their car as it was stopped in traffic on the freeway.   I’ve seen pictures of the car, and it amazes me that any of them survived.

Janelle’s Dad was a chef, and when things settled down somewhat he started this restaurant.  Every time I’ve been there it’s been busy, partly because there are no other restaurants for miles around, but mostly because the food is great.  Tonight I ate swordfish with a fruit salsa that was out of this world.  Who knew you could find food like that in a simple restaurant in the middle of nowhere!

So if you’re ever up this way, maybe looking at the beautiful fall foliage, take the time to visit Janelle’s Place.  Their specialty is barbecued ribs.  If you can’t decide, go for the ribs! And if you see Rob, tell him Dawn says “HI!”

I’ll give you the website, but it doesn’t have an address, so here’s that part:  110 S Saginaw, Byron, MI 48418.   ph: 810-370-1400

http://www.janellesfamilyrestaurant.com/


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Analyzing anger

This past Monday the library was closed while all the staff attended an “in-service day.”  It was a day for us to communicate with each other, to share thoughts on policies and procedures, and to listen to a guest speaker.  This year’s speaker was the “Blackbelt Librarian” who travels the country talking to public library personnel about safety.  You’d think libraries are safe – right?  Well, think again.  After all we are public, with all the good and bad that goes along with being available to everyone.

Part of what he talked about was how to determine the level of anger in a person who is unhappy with some policy, fine, procedure or rule.  The level of anger dictates how we handle that person while maintaining our personal safety.  So it was with this information in my head that I headed out yesterday morning to confront my grocery store management with the fact that some items of my grocery order had not been placed in the bags that I took home with me.  I was already upset because I was working on a rebuttal to a critical blog entry focused on the Truck Safety Coalition, a group I passionately support, and I was worried that the store might give me trouble over replacing the missing items.

But suddenly, midway to the grocery store the Blackbelt Librarian’s words pushed their way past my increased heart rate, my rising blood pressure.  Which level of anger was I?  Was I moving beyond anxiety, heading toward belligerent?  Well, yes I was.  And why?  Because I had been shorted items worth less than $10?  And would it be the store manager’s fault?  Probably not.  So I calmed myself down, figuring I could at least give the store the chance to make me happy.  And guess what?  They did.  No argument–no apology either–but at least no argument!

Lessons learned at work applied to my personal life.  Now if I can just use the same strategies to stay calm while I argue with the American Trucking Association staff person who writes that we at the Truck Coalition have some sort of alternate objective and are  “mindlessly criticizing” the nomination of a trucking industry lobbyist to head the agency that regulates the trucking industry.  Oops…there goes my blood pressure again.  Missing you Dad.  Trying to stay calm while I fight the fight.

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