grief | Change Is Hard

June 15, 2014
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

We need your help NOW. Please. For safety.

For those of you wanting to help make our highways safer, the time is now!

We have learned that the THUD bill in the Senate (THUD stands for Transportation Housing Urban Development) will go to the floor for a vote Tuesday. Between now and Tuesday we need to make a lot of noise. We need to get their attention. We need you to contact your two Senators, (you can find the names and contact information for them here) at their Washington office. There are two amendments that we need to push back for safety’s sake.

The first is the Collins amendment that would roll back the required restart rest periods for drivers. I talked about this in a previous post. This restart rest period happens when a driver gets to 70 hours in 8 days or 60 hours in 7 days. The rest period mandates 34 hours off and has to include two consecutive early morning periods between 1 and 5 a.m. That’s the part that the Collins amendment wants to withdraw and ‘study’ though there were a great number of studies done before the rule was instituted last summer.

Tell your Senator’s office that you don’t want tired truckers on the roads you share. Tell them 4000 people die and 100,000 are injured every year in crashes with commercial trucks. Tell them you’ve heard and seen too many stories about people stopped in traffic who were run over because the truck drivers were too tired to notice what was in front of them. Tell them you have a friend whose father was killed in just that way. Tell them they should leave the rule alone for the safety of all of us, including the truck drivers. Tell them to oppose the Collins amendment.

We also know that an amendment will be introduced that is similar to the Daines amendment that narrowly passed in the House last week. We don’t know yet who will introduce the amendment Monday but it will be trying to block any increase in the minimum insurance coverage required on truck carriers.

Remind your Senators that minimum levels of insurance for trucks is currently at $750,000 and has not been increased in over 30 years. Remind them that families who suffer terrible losses and injuries should not have to carry the financial burden of these crashes. Tragic crashes with multiple injuries and deaths happen every week and the truck company’s liability insurance has to cover everyone that was injured; in multiple injury crashes all the families have to share the insurance carried. $750,000 is not enough to cover the medical bills for even one person’s traumatic injuries. If the truck company can not afford insurance to cover their very real risk and responsibilities, then they can not afford to be in the business. Please ask your Senators to oppose any amendment that blocks any increase in minimum insurance requirement.

I know if you’re not actively involved in politics, and goodness knows I never was before all this, that it can be intimidating to contact a Senator’s office. You see them on TV. They often look imposing. You’re not sure you understand the issue fully. You’re afraid of being confronted. Relax. There are very nice people that answer the phone, and they want to hear what the people in their districts think about issues. Ask to speak to their Transportation Expert. You might get him or her, or you might end up in voice mail. Either way, express your opposition to these amendments to the THUD bill. If you have to leave that message with the initial person who answered the phone that’s OK too, that’s what they’re there for. It’s just important that your opinion is heard. If you are planning on writing your Senator about this issue, please do so today or early Monday so there is time for the office to gather the information. If you’re calling, please do so Monday so that the Senator has time to receive your opinion before the vote on Tuesday. All Senators provide phone numbers for their Washington office and their district office as well as an email contact in their webpages, and you’ll find their webpages at the link at the very beginning of this post.

I find it ironic that I’m desperately asking for help on Father’s Day, a day I’m trying to ignore. But I remind myself that Dad would be the first in line to voice his opposition to these amendments if he could. As would so many others taken too soon by a tired trucker. They don’t have a voice except through us. Every single family that has been through this wants to make a difference. But we can’t do it alone. We need all of you.

This is how I choose to celebrate and honor my Dad on Father’s Day.

I hope you join me.

Happy Father’s Dad Daddy.

June 11, 2014
by dawnkinster 13 Comments

Time to get angry

I was reading an editorial this morning before heading to work. It was talking about fatigued truck drivers and how the Collins amendment to the Senate Appropriations bill wanted to withdraw part of the new Hours of Service Rule, and how safety groups were opposing any such measure. There was a place for comments below the editorial, and one of those comments was from a truck driver who was upset about being regulated. He said he was a good driver, had driven for years, never had an accident and he didn’t think he should have to follow rules, or be tested for sleep apnea, or told when or how long he could drive. His comment was long and angry.

I thought about that comment as I headed off to work, driving my daily 40 minute commute in rush hour, truck infused traffic. At first I could see his point about not wanting to be told how to do his job; I don’t like it when I’m micromanaged myself. But then I got to thinking about the bigger picture. An industry that asks it’s drivers to work 70 or more hours in a workweek, an industry that allows it’s employees to drive up to 11 hours each day with only a 30 minute break, an industry that pays by the mile causing drivers to want to drive further and faster to make a decent living, that’s an industry that pushes employees beyond what’s safe in order to make a bigger profit. That’s an industry that will never self regulate and will always need rules and, yes, even micromanaging.

Four thousand people die in crashes with semi trucks each year. Another 100,000 are injured. There are debates about what percentage of these crashes are caused by the commercial vehicle. I’ve heard anywhere from 7% to 18%. Let’s say it’s only 7%. That would mean that about 280 people a year are killed by trucker error. And 7,000 people are injured. How many people are on a typical airliner? Three hundred? So if an airliner fell from the sky every year do you think it would be ignored? If 7000 people were injured while flying would we say that was just the cost of doing business? That sounds ludicrous doesn’t it. But that’s what’s happening in the trucking industry and we ignore it until it happens to our family.

As I’m thinking about this I’m stopped in traffic on the freeway, keeping one eye on the rear view mirror, like I’m sure my Dad did when he was stopped in traffic ten years ago, and I’m getting madder and madder about the whole thing. Our safety group has an amazing opportunity this week to gain attention for our issues, but it’s at the cost of a person’s life, people’s injuries. We need more people to understand what is happening and to join our cause. We need to make a bigger noise. And here’s what I’m thinking. You don’t have to wait until someone you love is killed or injured in a crash with a semi to join our group. Look around your dinner table tonight. Who there would you be willing to sacrifice in the name of commerce, the economy, trade, profits? No one. So don’t wait until you are forced to join the unhappy club of survivors after tragedy strikes. How about joining the cause now?

We’ll need you soon to call your Senator and/or House Representative and voice opposition to amendments that are being attached to large bills. The House just passed an amendment that will prohibit the DOT from raising the required minimum level of liability insurance, which stands today at $750,000, the same as when it was originally enacted decades ago. That amendment came out of the blue and was pushed through by people influenced by the American Trucking Association which says that making truck companies carry more insurance is unfair to independent truckers. What’s unfair is that the families of people injured in truck crashes often have to bear the brunt of the medical expenses because there’s not enough insurance to cover all the expenses. And earlier this week a Senate subcommittee approved the Collins amendment that would withdraw part of the Hours of Service Rule that calls for specific rest periods after a driver works 70 hours. That amendment will come up before the full Senate next week.

We need to educate our elected officials. The ATA is already there, talking in their ears, helping with their campaign finances. We’re just families without big budgets. All we have are voices, yours and ours, united in protest. We need to get angry. And then we need to get loud. Congress doesn’t do anything without an outpouring of public concern. An outpouring. So join the fight. Let’s get angry and then lets get moving. One person lost in a preventable crash it too much. We’re way beyond that and it’s got to stop.

How many of you remember the story of Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss? It took a lot of Whos in Whoville to be heard, to save their world. It’s the same here today. All of us together are stronger than any one of us protesting. Check out a few editorials about the current issues, and decide for yourself. Can you help our cause? Because it’s not really our cause….it’s yours as well.

Some people might call me the crazy truck lady. That’s OK – I’ve been called worse. And you could do a lot worse than spending a little time fighting to make our roads safer.

Thanks to all of your for your support. You are all wonderful.

Happy Fathers Day Dad.

May 24, 2014
by dawnkinster 9 Comments

Forget me not

Forget Me Not

I spent some of this first day of the 3 day holiday weekend weeding. It’s the same old thing, by the time I get around to weeding the perennial garden it’s overrun with grass. I don’t even need to take a before picture – it looks the same as it did last year at this time. Think of a long green rectangle filled to overflowing with grass waving knee high. You would be accurate.

So what does a person think about when she’s pulling grass mindlessly for an hour or so? Well if you’re me, you think about your Dad. He’d have been 85 last February. I’d have liked to see him achieve that age, see what he was interested in, what he’d think about world events. I imagine him talking to the DOT about truck issues, can hear his impatience with the slowness that is Washington. I hear his encouragement to keep up the good fight.

I think about Mom too, of course. She loved her flowers and her birds. Though she didn’t die at the same time or in the same way as Dad, it sometimes feels like one event, their deaths happened so close together. I think about her when the oriole couple visit, or when I hear the cranes in the swamp up the road. And I think about her when I’m weeding.

This week while work was especially difficult I’d get up from my desk to stretch and glance out the window. Thursday and Friday almost every time I did a robin flew around the corner of the building and landed at the tip top of a tall spruce tree, about level with my window. It swayed in the breeze and chattered as I stood and watched and smiled. Eventually I’d get back to work and when I’d glance out in a bit the bird was gone. But it was back three or four times when I’d stand up to stretch, and the last time it stared in my direction while it chattered. I know the windows are glazed and the bird can’t really see me. And the bird couldn’t know that I needed that little bit of entertainment during a very bad day. But each time that robin turned up I’d said “hi” to Mom, and before I sat down again I’d say a silent “bye, see you next time.”

So I’ve been thinking about the two of them a lot these past few days. That’s not a bad thing, I’ve sort of enjoyed it. Especially during these beautiful spring days when I’m pulling weeds in my garden and they’re both just a memory away.

Broken hearts

April 5, 2014
by dawnkinster 23 Comments

For AnnaLeah and Mary

Many of you know that I volunteer for the Truck Safety Coalition, a nonprofit in Washington DC that works to make our roads safer by pushing for legislative and rule making changes. We work both through our members of Congress and through the Department of Transportation and other agencies that regulate the trucking industry. You know that I do this in memory of my Dad who was killed by a tired trucker in December of 2004. So when you read a post dedicated to the issue of safety on our roads you run the risk of having to listen to me get on my soapbox. I’m grateful that you humor me on this because I tend to get a bit passionate, and I know that most of you are already on my side and I’m probably preaching to the choir. Still…

Humor me one more time and listen to the story of AnnaLeah and Mary.

Last May while my family and I were joined in Washington DC with many other families who have been touched by needless tragedy, while we were sitting in the DOT board room being told by different members of that agency why they hadn’t accomplished tasks they’ve been working on for years, while we listened to excuse after excuse why minimum insurance requirements hadn’t been raised yet, why stronger rear underride guards hadn’t been mandated, why there were no studies of side underride guards at all, why the federally legislated electronic onboard recorders weren’t already implemented ..well… while we were there listening to all these excuses AnnaLeah and Mary were dying in a horrific crash. Two beautiful girls just gone, another family irreparably changed.

You can hear their mother tell her story here, she does a lovely job, but I understand if you don’t want to listen. If you want to remain untouched. If it can happen to them, it can happen to anyone. Best not to know, right?

Well, here’s the short version: They were driving from North Carolina, heading to Texas for the wedding of their oldest sister. In Georgia they were hit by another vehicle and were spun under a semi. If that truck had had underride guards perhaps the girls would not have been killed. Did you know that every industrialized country in the world has underride guards on their semi trucks? But not the United States. Next time you’re driving next to a semi glance over and see where that underside of that trailer would hit you in a crash. Even a crash that you didn’t cause.

Think about that. It doesn’t have to be your fault and you can still die. Family and friends can still die. Truck companies don’t want to put protection on their vehicles to save lives of people in cars. They don’t think it’s their responsibility. They don’t want to incur the costs. It’s all about profit. But who is really paying for their profit? You and I and our families are paying that cost. Every single day.

OK. I’ll get off the soapbox now. Please, just go to this site and read a little bit. Sign the petition that we plan to take to Secretary of Transportation Foxx in May, one year after AnnaLeah and Mary died. We want to convince him to join us in the fight on three issues:

1. Increase the minimum insurance truck companies have to carry to cover the damage to families involved in crashes with them. It hasn’t been raised in 30 years.

2. Get the electronic onboard recorders implemented to keep drivers from cheating on their logbooks and driving longer hours than allowed.

3. Act to improve the safety of trucks by requiring better underride guards.

Even if you can’t listen to AnnaLeah and Mary’s Mom talk about her girls and the trip across country that ended not in a family wedding but in family tragedy, take a moment to read to the end to find out what else you can do to help. And think about these two beautiful kids next time you’re on the road driving behind or beside or in front of a semi. Think about these kids and convince yourself it’s not your problem.

I dare you.

February 1, 2014
by dawnkinster 36 Comments

How you doing Girlfriend?

She wasn’t my BFF. We weren’t childhood friends, I didn’t go to school with her, never ran a race, took a class, or joined a book club with her. I didn’t know all the personal details of her life, never went out for a drink or hung out on weekends with her. But she was a friend. We saw each other in the halls at work, ran into each other in the ladies room. We stood and talked, long conversations about life, family, choices. We picked each other up when we were having a bad day. At the very least we smiled and waved as we scurried about our work. She cared when my parents died. I cared when her marriage was over. She’d greet me with “How you doing Girlfriend?” and a smile. Sometimes I’d tell her how I was doing, sometimes not. But I was always glad she asked.

I wasn’t unique in my relationship with her. She was everyone’s Mom at work. She was where people went for an aspirin or advice. Where people went when they needed a break from the work grind, to talk about her grand-kids and admire their photos on her cubicle wall. To laugh. To commiserate. To recharge. She wore socks decorated with jingle bells during the holidays every year and we all smiled when we heard her walk by; she was the epitome of Christmas spirit, our own Christmas elf.

And when she didn’t feel well this winter we all cared. When she was gone from work awhile we all asked about her. “Not good” I was told when I asked her boss early in January. He was going to see her that weekend so I said I’d write her a note for him to deliver. The next day, giving him the note I heard more; it was more serious than I realized and I knew my note was inappropriate. I rewrote it that night, changed it from a cheery couple of lines to a two page letter telling her how much I enjoyed our conversations, how grateful I was that we were friends, how I would miss hearing those jingle bell socks as she went by during the holidays. I gave her my home phone number and my personal email in case she needed another long conversation.

I never heard from her. She died Thursday night – we heard the news at work Friday morning. Devastated does not begin to describe my sorrow. Our collective sorrow.

She was a little person, probably not five foot tall, with a heart as big as the sky. I can hear her voice in my head, I see her walking the halls at work. I strain to hear those bells. I tried to remember the last time I saw her, talked to her. She used to send me emails about jumbo loans that had to be underwritten in my area but had been sent in error to her department. When it was busy I was never happy to see her emails and we used to kid about her sending me the work. My last email from her was Christmas Eve.

Her: “Happy Holidays. I have just moved 3 files to your new deal
queue… Thanks”

Me: “Thanks. no more gifts now….we don’t deserve them! 🙂 ”

Her: “Oh, but my friend, you DO deserve gifts!! ….the best that ever were 🙂
OK–no more gifts today–just a wish for a blessed, happy Christmas & New
Year.”

Friday as I sat stunned in my cubicle I idly typed her name into email. I know it’s silly but I just wanted to say goodbye. I sat and stared at her name. Remembering. Trying not to cry. Listening to her voice in my head. Then I typed one line…”I’m going to miss you girlfriend.” I paused, then hit the send button. I got an auto reply: “I am out of the office until 3/3/14.”

Somewhere a short little lady is visiting with friends and family that have gone before. Her socks are jingling, her smile is wide, her face glows. Those of us left here are hurting, but were we ever lucky to have had her while we did.

So…you go girl, enjoy your next adventure. I wish it could have been the retirement we talked about, dreamed of. I wish you had had more time here. And I’m hoping this is the biggest, best adventure of all.

But I’m sure going to miss you girlfriend. Yes I am.

January 16, 2014
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

Best of times, worst of times

I heard last night that JCPenny is closing stores and laying off 2000 people. I know they’ve been having problems defining themselves. I know sales in retail across the board was lower than hoped during the holidays. And I know the feelings of fear that is rippling now through JCPenny employees as they wait to see where the ax will fall.

For them it doesn’t feel as though the economy has turned a corner. For them the future doesn’t look bright. They can’t see the end of the tunnel. For them it’s not a news story, not a statistic, not a theoretical unemployment figure. It’s personal. It’s like someone is shooting fish in a barrel and they are the fish, scary in its randomness. Who will survive? And why?

I speak from experience when I say there is a kind of survivor’s guilt during times like these. “Downsizing” is a nice word for what actually feels like multiple deaths in a family. Often sudden, surprising, unexpected. You are unprepared even though you knew times were slow. You see closed office doors as if they are casket lids, and you feel sharp, unexpected pangs of loss. These are family members who are suddenly gone through no fault of their own – for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Every day while downsizing is going on you go to the office as if going to a funeral.

These are the times we are in. And it isn’t happening to other people, it is happening to all of us. Some of your friends or neighbors or acquaintances are waking up today without a job they had yesterday. Families are figuring out what the new normal is and how to make do.

Those left behind are trying to figure out what the new normal is too. And feeling sad and guilty. Those left behind are in mourning and I’m not overstating that. Mass layoffs are tragedies. People on both sides of the ax will need time to regroup. Grief comes from unexpected places.

Today I’m headed for the office like usual. But I’m going to miss some very nice people, good people, hard working people that won’t be there.

I wish them the absolute best.

November 7, 2013
by dawnkinster 17 Comments

Do you believe in messages from beyond?

Before they were parents.

I know everybody out there has loved ones that have moved on to what I think of as their next adventure. But I’m wondering. Do you look for signs that they’re around? That they’re alright? I do.

In the beginning I consciously looked all the time. Now it’s more of an automatic thing. Mostly it’s birds that seem to give me signs from my folks, but I’ve also begun to consider the bright orange semi trucks I see out on the road as greetings from my Dad.

I know that probably sounds weird. After all it was a bright orange semi that killed him. And for a lot of years seeing one of those trucks was a knife to my heart. They are everywhere and there is no escape from them, so some time ago I decided I couldn’t allow myself to be knifed anymore. I started saying ‘hi’ to Dad each time I saw one and I still do that today. It doesn’t make it all better, but somehow it’s not as painful to see those trucks on the road anymore.

And of course I’ve told you about the stars in the sky that I’ve assigned to each of them; Orion’s belt for Mom, the Big Dipper for Dad. At this time of the year they are both in the morning sky, high above my head when I take the dog out early. I look for them, sometimes even have a little conversation with them, while Katie’s checking out the yard.

I’ve seen a few episodes of the TV show The Long Island Medium and wonder if people are so desperate to know their loved ones are OK that they feed the medium clues. I wonder if I do that in a way too, wonder if I look for signs so intently at the moments when I need them close that I manufacture comforting signs. I think the truth is that I have to believe Mom and Dad are somewhere just around the corner. Because to think otherwise would make living without them impossibly difficult.

What about you? Do you believe that your loved ones are still around in some form? Somewhere more than just in your own heart? Do you think they send messages? Or do you think it’s all a bunch of bunk?

I wonder.

October 2, 2013
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

Reflections on truck safety

Fall reflections

I’ve been thinking about an injured family a lot lately. And as our government grinds to a halt and people express their frustration with the gridlock which is Washington I recognize their frustrations in my own ongoing feelings about the slowness of change toward truck safety. I know, I know…you don’t see the connection. Let me try to illuminate.

As many of you know last May my family and I met in DC with other families who have been irreparably injured by large trucks. Families who have had members lost, injured, families whose lives are altered forever. The first day of our conference, Saturday, May 4, we told our stories, cried, welcomed with heavy hearts the new families, and talked strategy to make change.

That same day a mother and her three children were traveling on a road in Georgia. Their car was hit by a truck, spun, and was pushed under the rear of a semi. Her daughters, AnnaLeah, 17 and Mary, 13 were killed. While we were sitting in a DOT boardroom hearing department after department tell us that they were studying a problem, contemplating a rule, considering change this mother was planning her daughters’ funerals. While we were arguing that stronger wider rear guards should be mandated on commercial vehicles two more beautiful children died. Beautiful people are dying every day. And our government continues to study. To discuss. To consider.

Thoughts ripple

So as I watch the government fight among itself I think the shutdown is a bigger reflection on our own fights for truck safety. If you were to ask most Americans they would side with safety. But the opinions of most Americans are not heard because we don’t have the dollars or the influence that the trucking industry has. Even in the article I linked to this post the truckers are quoted saying the problem is with those of us in cars. We need to pay better attention they say. We need to drive more responsibly they say. That’s all true. But this mother was hit by someone else, and was spun into the semi. A stronger wider rear guard could have saved her children. Why can’t we do this thing that would save lives. Why can’t we get even small changes mandated for the safety of us all.

Expanding changes

I get discouraged. And all the news coverage over the current government shutdown just brings home the sense of hopelessness about getting anything positive done in Washington. I get so discouraged.

But then last week as I was sorting through photos from our trip to DC I suddenly came across a photo of the framed collage full of faces of our lost family members that hangs in a DOT elevator lobby. There was Dad. Like a slap across the face I remembered why I can’t be discouraged. Because these people, and all the people that have been killed or injured since, have no voice but ours. AnnaLeah and Mary have no voice but their mother’s…and now ours. Their family is now part of our family. They are our children.

We just can’t afford to let the incompetence in DC discourage us. We can not give up. No matter what. You never know when you throw a pebble into a pond just how far the ripples will go. Change is like that too. Sometime, somewhere, somehow we will get safety mandated. We just have to keep throwing those pebbles into the pond.

Marianne Karth, AnnaLeah and Mary’s mother, has a facebook page celebrating her daughters’ lives. Put faces on the numbers I so often quote…go visit her page. Please support her now at the beginning of her new reality.

I’ll keep tossing those pebbles.

Tree of life

August 3, 2013
by dawnkinster 20 Comments

Funny

Funny how it happens.

You’re going along in your life, handling stuff, feeling like you’ve moved past the sad place. You’ve written some about truck stuff and felt strong doing it. You spent an evening talking to a young woman whose mother was killed by a truck a year ago and you were glad to give her an outlet, help her plan some of her new and unexpected future. You felt good about being able to listen objectively with less personal emotion.

Missing them.

Yet this morning you feel a little off. The dog gets you up early, before light, and as you stumble into clothes to take her out, wander through the house to get a jacket, it occurs to you that the house was being remodeled the last time your Dad was here and that he never got to see the fireplace. Why not just send him an email with a photo attached you reason. Seems like a sensible thing to do.

And then you find yourself in the driveway staring up at a beautiful moon sitting low in the sky, beside a bright planet off to the north. And you realize that the moon is not blurry because of sleep in your eyes but because you are staring through a sheen of tears. There’s no email in heaven. Is there.

As you and the dog wander you contemplate the long road of life and how you don’t know what’s over the next hill. You are lost in thought, memories.

Long road.

Then just overhead a cardinal begins his morning song and you can just see him through the soft morning light. He flies right over your head, still singing and you figure it’s Dad cheering you up. It works as you realize you’re not in the dark place. This place, this morning, is more a gentle blue place with shadows around the edges. Soft, not scary.

And then your dog stares up at you with big eyes, wondering, and grins because you do and the two of you hustle back to the house for breakfast.

Funny how it happens.

Love you Mama

June 5, 2013
by dawnkinster 9 Comments

Beyond brutal

If work last week was difficult, this week it is impossible. Since mid February there have been three women in our department whose husbands have died unexpectedly overnight. This past Sunday it was the husband of someone in my region. The resultant pain and grief among our small group is overwhelming and we all feel so helpless. Each of us wants to help her. None of us can. The work must still get done, and the volume of emails and phone calls has intensified as people hear and want to know what happened. And, of course, how to help. Today is only the third day of this never ending week. We were exhausted before. Now we are plodding, a painful slow hobble; we’re just getting through each day. Our exhaustion and pain is all consuming but nothing like what she is living through right now.

So it surprised me a bit tonight to find I could still smile and sing, even tap my fingers on the steering wheel. The CD from our spring concert arrived last night and I listened to it on the way home this evening. What a great concert; it was full of happy, fun, upbeat music. Stuff you can sing (or at least hum) along with, sway with, nod your head with, snap your fingers to. Good fun, great memories, heart singing music.

Here’s a sampling of what we played (found on youtube and played by other groups for your listening pleasure). For Lassie and Benji’s mom I give you Lassus Trombone. (She plays the trombone so I figured she’d get a kick out of this.) And New York 1927 was really fun to play. We featured the trumpets in Bugler’s Holiday …including one of our oldest members at over 70 featured as one of the soloists. We even showcased the clarinets with Pie in the Sky Polka…a piece I spent way too much time practicing.

The whole evening was really fun, and the memories of that concert kept me smiling tonight on my long commute home after another very long and sad day at work. For the concert we invited 10 or so 7th graders to play with us on a couple of the pieces. The kids looked so young. The young man sitting with us in the clarinets said as he took his chair that he was nervous. We said that was OK, we were nervous too. Afterward his grin, and the grins of most of the other kids went from ear to ear. Amazing what music can do.

I wish it was this easy to lift my friend’s spirit.

Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: grief