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Who know, all those years ago how it would all turn out.

Four kids, six or seven moves, world travel, and finally retirement on a lake.

Can’t do much better than that.

Happy Heavenly Anniversary, mom and dad!
I cleaned your nose prints off the windows yesterday.

I ran my fingers across the little bumps one last time and then spritzed them away.

Because I don’t need those little smudges to know you were here.

And that you’re still right here beside me.
Some of you know I was in Washington DC last week, but do you know why? Long term readers might remember the story of my dad who was killed December 23rd of 2004 while slowed in traffic when he was hit from behind by a semi driven by a sleepy driver. I and other members of my family have been working on truck safety issues ever since.

Last weekend the Truck Safety Coalition held our biannual Sorrow to Strength conference, where survivors and families of victims from across the country met, provided emotional support to each other, and became educated on the issues.
Saturday and Sunday we spent listening to each other and preparing for the meetings to come.

Monday and Tuesday we spread out in small groups across Capitol Hill, talking to staff and members of Congress about what happened to us, and the solutions we want implemented in order to save lives.
It is hard but necessary work.

Almost 5,600 people died in commercial truck crashes in 2021. That’s a 13% increase in fatalities over 2020. And over 146,000 people are injured every single year.
Obviously there is much work still to be done. To bring it down to a more human scale, let me tell you the stories of two women, each bearing the unimaginable consequences of the trucking industry’s drive for profits.

Alexandra is a young woman married only two years when she and her husband moved from Idaho to Atlanta where she planned to attend law school. Last November her husband was sitting at a red light when his vehicle was hit from behind by a semi. He is now paralyzed from the neck down and unable to do anything for himself. Alexandra and her mother-in-law have been taking turns sitting with him and advocating for his care in several hospitals and rehab facilities.

She’s a strong woman, Alexandra. She talks about the crash, about the care she provides for her husband, about their impending move back to Idaho to be closer to family. But when she talks about fighting with insurance carriers and the almost $5 million in medical debts she and her husband now owe, she begins to cry.

The minimum amount of liability insurance a carrier has to have is $750,000. That was set in 1980 and has never been increased over the more than 40 years since. Though there’s probably no amount of required insurance that would cover all of the medical costs for Alexandra and her husband, certainly they deserve to have their expenses covered. He deserves to get the best care and therapy available, and he won’t get that if they are on Medicaid.
He was sitting at a red light.
We all sit at red lights.

And then there’s Elise. Her four children were visiting their father in another state, driving to a relative’s house to enjoy summer fun in a backyard pool on a hot July day in 2020. Their dad slowed down entering a construction zone. The semi behind was driven by a man who was high on meth and fentanyl. He hit the family’s car going over 70 mph. It was pushed into the semi in front of them and then into the guard rail where it burst into flame. The children’s dad was pulled out of the car, badly burned. But no one could see the four children in the smoke and flames.
All four of Elise’s children died in that crash.

Elise told her story over and over during our two days on the Hill. She calls herself a mother with no children. I witnessed her dissolve into tears, then take a deep breath and continue on to ask for automatic emergency brakes on all trucks. She does this, with courage, in memory of her children. The least we can do to listen.

Starting the rule making process for automatic emergency brakes on trucks was part of the last infrastructure bill, but only for the biggest trucks, class 7 and 8. Smaller commercial trucks were not included, and we all know those trucks are buzzing around our neighborhoods every day.
Elise’s children were slowed in a construction zone. We all slow down in construction zones.

We can listen to these stories and hundreds, thousands of similar stories and send positive thoughts and prayers. That’s nice. But what these two women really want is change. It’s what all of us attending the conference want, change, so that fewer people die and get injured in preventable commercial truck crashes.
But change is hard.
There are bills in the House and Senate ( For example, HR 2687 for raising insurance minimums, HR 1622/S 605 for underride protection on trucks) to make change revolving around several of our issues. But this session of Congress is wrapping up and in the new year we will have to start asking for bills to be reintroduced.
You can help by calling your Senator or House Representative when things heat up again. And you can count on me to let you know all about it.

Dad’s, and all these stories continue, forever in our hearts.

We detoured, yesterday, from our drive to Washington DC, in order to visit the Flight 93 Memorial.

We had two phones, the car’s navigational system and a Garmin with us. Each provide different instructions. We ended up circling up and down and around the hills in which the memorial sits. It’s beautiful country but after about an hour of driving, always within 5 minutes of our destination, we were pretty frustrated.

Part of the problem is that there’s an old entrance that isn’t open anymore and some of our technical tools wanted to go there…and so we did. The other part of the problem is a distinct lack of signage for the new entrance.

But eventually we made it, as the sun was starting to lower in a sky filled with big puffy grey and white clouds.

Our first stop was windchimes tower, dedicated to the 40 people on the plane that died September 11th, 2001 when the passengers put Flight 93 into the ground rather than allow themselves to be weapons aimed for the US Capitol.

The chimes are beautiful, but only play when the wind is at least 12 mph, and though it was getting breezy it wasn’t windy enough to hear more than one low tone.

Then we went on to the visitor center which is built into a huge concrete structure that draws you along that last flight path, and deposits you on a platform overlooking the final crash site of the plane.

It’s a beautiful field now, filled with wildflowers and birds. In the late afternoon light it glows.

We drove down to the lower area, and walked the pathway back to the wall of names. Along the way were some mementos in a space designed to collect them.

The names etched into the wall were heartbreaking, as were the pictures there, and the flowers.

We were visiting only three days after the 21st anniversary of the attack, so the flowers were freshly poignant.

We spent a long time wandering the grounds. It was so peaceful with hardly anyone else there.

Yet I couldn’t help but look back up at the visitor center, built along the flight path and imagine what it must have been like that day. What it sounded like, what it smelled like. What it looked like.

There are photos, of course, of the aftermath. But I don’t think they convey the total horror that must have confronted the emergency workers when they arrived.

I imagine the field was a beautiful place before the plane dropped out of the sky.

And it’s a beautiful place again, a fitting tribute to the forty heroes of Flight 93.

After I wrote this a friend provided a link to Sunday Morning’s piece on the Flight 93 National Memorial. It’s a short piece that will explain more about the tower and the site.
The Ann Arbor Symphony playing in Hill Auditorium on a beautiful Friday night in Ann Arbor. Those of you that have experienced it know what I mean without me coming up with the words. Those of you who have never been so lucky, I’m sorry, I don’t have the words to adequately describe it.
But I’ll try.
It was opening night of the new season last Friday, a new season in so many ways. Our first evening since the beginning of covid when we could choose to attend without wearing a mask. The first time hearing a beautiful piece by Carlos Simon. The first time pianist Inon Barnatan performed with the Ann Arbor Symphony. And the first night Ann Arbor Symphony’s new Music Director, Earl Lee, conducted this brilliant group.
It was all stellar.

Sometimes when a contemporary piece of music is on the program my husband and I will look at each other in trepidation. We must be old school because if the work is full of dissonance and freakish rhythms we don’t always understand it. So this time, as we were listening the the preconcert lecture and they invited the composer onstage to discuss his piece we glanced at each other and sighed.
But we were wrong.
Carlos Simon’s This Land is beautiful. Sure there were moments of discord, it was written, after all, about immigration and the conflict it often creates in America. But listen to it, just under 10 minutes of beautiful and interesting music. I think you’ll fall in love with it just like we did.
Next on the program was Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. I don’t think you can go wrong with Rachmaninoff, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined. I was lucky enough to be sitting where I could see pianist Inon Barnatan’s hands. Or if I’m honest, not see his hands, they were moving so fast. He was simply wonderful and obviously having so much fun playing the piece. His enthusiasm was infectious and the audience fell in love all over again. In fact we were all on our feet applauding even as the last note faded.
I wish you could see and listen to him do this work, but since I couldn’t find any video of him playing it, watch and listen to it here, the pianist is Anna Fedorova, and the camera angle gives you great views. This one is about 25 minutes. Grab a cup of coffee or tea, put your feet up and enjoy! There’s a part of it, near the end that you’ll recognize. And if you ever get the opportunity to hear this piece or see Inon Barnatan play anything, just do it!
After intermission we heard Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. To be honest, I was so happy with the first half of the concert I didn’t need to hear more, but I’m glad there was more. The music was beautiful, the symphony was responsive and our new Music Director was fully engaged in it all. We are so lucky to have Earl Lee conducting. He very obviously loves music, the musicians and his audience. I’m betting he’s going to love Ann Arbor too.
Thank you Carlos Simon and Inon Barnatan, and welcome to Earl Lee and his family! It was a beautiful night of firsts and I feel lucky to have been there.

The library here hosts a photography contest every fall. Residents of our township submit up to three 8×10 images which are numbered and affixed to big display boards.

We have the month of September to submit photos. Then they are on display at the library through the end of October.

People get to vote on their favorite. There’s an adult and a kids division.

The only rule is that the images have to have been taken in our township.

I love looking at all the pictures. Lots of times I think, “darn! I’ve seen that exact image and always thought I should stop and take a picture!”

The first year I submitted three images, things I thought were artsy, interesting, technically good.

I realized right away when I saw which images won that the people voting are not judging skills, but rather are voting with their hearts on things that touched them.

So I changed my strategy and tried to see my photos from a casual observer’s point of view.

What would catch someone’s eye? Make them smile or even laugh?

What image would make them come back and look again?

All of these photos are from around my yard. You’ve seen most of them before. I have to pick three.

What’s your vote?