Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: grief


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Patience. Not so much a virtue.

Hart Senate Office Building

Hart Senate Office Building

We’re finished, finally, with our meetings on The Hill.  We’ve talked to legislative staff members, subcommittee members, transportation aides, heads of agencies, chief of staffs, a Senator, cab drivers and a Cabinet Member.   Everywhere we go we express our frustration with the lack of speed we see coming out of the DOT (Department of Transportation), an agency tasked with the admittedly huge responsibility to implement many of the safety advances spelled out in the Reauthorization Bill passed last August.

Russell Senate Office Building.

Russell Senate Office Building.

Sitting at the huge conference table in the Transportation Secretary’s suite we heard over and over that mandating strong rear crash guards and speed governors, finishing the rule that mandates Electronic On Board Recorders, moving ahead to increase minimum insurance levels required by truck companies, putting together an objective study on size and weight, well, these things all take time.  And study.  Lots and lots of study.  Because they want their T’s crossed and their I’s dotted.  Repeatedly we were told we didn’t understand that it’s hard to get things finished in Washington.  That there are lots of levels that had to be moved through before the common sense issues could be resolved.  That we were impatient and naive.

Yea.  We get that.

But let me tell you, if I preformed at my job the way it seems these projects are being handled I’d be unemployed.  In the world of business, industry, retail, just about any workplace you can imagine, results are what matter.  How many times, when asked by your boss to meet a deadline have you been able to respond with a study?  Particularly a study to study the previous studies that have been done on your problem?  How often are you allowed to miss a deadline, consistently come in late with a project, and make the excuse that it’s hard?  We all have hard jobs.  We all face difficult decisions.  But eventually we all have to be adults and make a choice…go one way or another…do the best we can with the information we have.

Cannon House Office Building.

Cannon House Office Building.

Nothing in this world is perfect and you can spend a lifetime trying to be sure you don’t make a mistake, trying to find the perfect solution, a solution that will make all people happy.  Handling problems is hard.  That’s why they’re called problems.  But some problems have easier solutions than others.  Some problems are no-brainers.

Strengthening rear crash guards is a no-brainer.  The ones mandated on trucks now fail at an unacceptable rate.  Canada and Europe have a better guard, and have for years.  It shouldn’t be that difficult to transfer information from them to our own trucks.  Raising the amount of insurance carriers are required to have is a no-brainer.  $750,000 per crash isn’t enough to handle the medical bills for the first week a victim is in the hospital, not to mention a lifetime of rehab and care.  Recognizing that heavier trucks will cause more destruction, more death, more injury is a no-brainer.  But let’s be sure.  Let’s put together a 2 year study.  That’s the ticket.

Permanent memorial to truck crash victims.

Permanent memorial to truck crash victims.

We met with the DOT Monday afternoon.  While we were there people died in truck crashes across the country.  Monday afternoon in Charlotte NC    the driver of a disabled SUV and a good Samaritan were hit by a semi.  The good Samaritan was able to stop his car, get out and try to help the driver a the SUV, but the semi couldn’t stop?  Why is that?  Also Monday an Arizona public safety officer was killed, sitting in his car on the shoulder of the road while investigating another crash.   So at least 3 people died while we were sitting in meetings discussing moving along on projects that will save lives.  Not perfect solutions, but solutions that will save lives nevertheless.

Patience.  We were told to have patience.  The federal government moves slowly they said.  These things take time they said.   We need to study the ramifications they said.  We’ll get back to you on that they said.  Well.  Tell all that to the three families devastated  Monday.  Ask them for a little patience.  Then imagine it was your family.  How patient would you be?

Exactly.

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Trucks…here’s something you can do.

I’m watching the news today as it covers the people of Sandy Hook in DC lobbying for increased gun control.  I listen to the husband of one of the adults killed as he talks about the flight to DC on air-force one; how the entire flight he wished he was home with his wife watching her dance while she made dinner.   I see a clip of family members in a Senator’s office clutching tissue and trying to present their stories.  My own eyes tear up because I know.

From deep inside my soul I know how they feel.  How incredulous they are to be in the places they are now.  And  I know how they experience these amazing events – they experience it all through the mist of grief.  I remember sitting at a boardroom table, next to the Secretary of Transportation, across the table from Ralph Nader.  I remember the out of body experience as I talked to Dad in my head, unable to believe where I was, what I was doing.

Imagine flying on the President’s plane, talking to people you’ve seen only in the news.  Imagine keeping their attention on your story as you talk.  Incredible.  But we would all give up the attention and all these experiences just to have our family member back.  In a heartbeat.  No one wants the kind of celebrity these families are experiencing now.  No one wants to joint that club.

But I digress.  Here’s something you can do.  Go to this website and vote.  It’s a poll asking people how they feel about increasing the size and/or weight of trucks.  Currently in most states the maximum weight is 80,000 pounds.  There is a push to increase that to 97,000 or 100,000 pounds.

One of the arguments most often used for increasing truck weight is that there will be fewer trucks on the road if they can be bigger.  Historically, there has never been a reduction in the number of trucks on the road when weights have been increased.  There are consistently over time more and more trucks sharing our roads.  If the weights go up there will be more and more heavier trucks sharing our roads.

Another argument is that the increased weight will come with an additional axle which will spread the higher weight out so  there will be less damage to our infrastructure.  Truthfully, a heavier truck is a heavier truck.  Our bridges were not built for 100,000 pound trucks.  No matter how many axles you put on the truck it will still weigh 100,000 pounds.  More damage to our roads and bridges is inevitable.

The families of Sandy Hook say they feel like their children and family members are with them as they work the Hill.  It’s true.  The people killed that December day are there on the Hill.  And that’s exactly why Sandy Hook families work on gun issues and our families work on truck issues – issues we didn’t know anything about not so long ago.  Issues we wish we didn’t know so much about now.

So please go and vote…and of course you can vote whichever way you feel.  At the beginning most of the votes seemed to be coming from the trucking industry.  Now there’s more of a mix in the comments.  You don’t even have to comment.  We were told we might have to set up a profile to vote, but I didn’t have to do that, so you will be anonymous.  We just want to know what every day people think about bigger heavier trucks on our roads.  We don’t want the poll to be skewed either way…we would just like to know how you feel.

Thanks as always for all your support.  As things progress you know I’ll keep you posted.


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Guns and trucks

Listening to the news on the way home tonight I caught a snippet of someone, perhaps the governor of Connecticut, maybe someone else, talk about not backing away from an issue just because the other side talked longer or louder, about not giving up even though the task seems difficult, about standing by your convictions.  The news was covering the President’s stop in Connecticut campaigning for some measure of gun control but talk like that actually helped to bolster my flagging hopes about truck issues.

The next Sorrow to Strength conference is coming up.  During the first weekend in May many family members will be meeting again, talking again, learning again.  Crying again.  Before every conference I get wound up,  sad, angry, even tired.  And that’s before I even land at Regan National.  In some ways I look forward to going; I love Washington DC, but I also dread the conference because it exposes some of the old feelings and frustrations that we all felt right after Dad was killed by a tired trucker.

Lately I’ve been thinking that the whole thing is just too complicated for me to understand, certainly too big for me to make any difference.  Yes we won a huge victory last summer and some of what we’ve been working for has happened.  But so much more is needing to be done.  And the tentacles of the trucking industry are everywhere.  Even when we think we’ve won a small battle we have to stay vigilant to make sure it is not undone or negatively influenced by people that want to increase profits by moving goods in  larger and heavier trucks.

So hearing someone else supporting change that is difficult, change that is being fought by big money, change that is complicated – hearing someone talk about not giving up even in the face of great resistance helped me realize that my fight is worthwhile too.   Giving up would be wrong.  Giving up would let big money and big truck companies win.  Giving up would mean people will continue to die and be injured.  Of course continuing the fight doesn’t mean no one will ever be killed or injured…just that some people will be saved.  And isn’t even one person’s life worth the effort?

Yes, yes it is.


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Having a Mom moment

I was driving home from doggie school this morning when suddenly I missed my Mom so much.   I don’t know what triggered it; maybe I saw something that unconsciously reminded me of her, or perhaps I heard something on the radio.  I just don’t know.  Do you ever have moments like that out of the blue?

Mom died almost nine years ago and in the beginning I had “Mom moments” like this all the time and just about anywhere I went.  Seemed like everything reminded me of her whether I was at the grocery store or in the back yard.  You could catch me crying at the oddest things and in the strangest places.   As the years passed those overwhelming moments came less frequently and were less painful.  Mostly now I remember things about her that make me smile.

Sometimes it seems Mom gets lost in all the stuff we do for truck safety which centers around Dad and the crash that took him from us.  That work keeps Dad near the front of our minds as we work capital hill or write about truck issues from home.  We’re always describing the crash and Dad and why change is so important.  We don’t have a similar cause for what took Mom but her loss is just as keenly felt.

I remember a couple of years after they both died while having a bad moment I thought I’d just call Mom and ask  how long it took her to recover from Grandma’s death, sort of ask for a road map for parental grief.  It seemed like a good idea and made me feel better to think about talking to her.  For a moment.  Until I remembered again that the time to ask those kinds of questions was gone.

Today, years after she left, I am surprised at the intensity of my Mom moment.   I didn’t mind when it descended on me during the drive, it felt strangely nice and rather familiar to be back in the throes of grief, as if I were giving her due, her share of attention, making sure she is still included in my life.  We’re planning our next trip to Washington, so Dad is right there as usual and maybe this was a reaction to dredging up those memories again.   Or maybe it was just a random thing totally unrelated.

Or maybe, sometimes, a girl just misses her Mom.

Braun and Badger 047


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The press conference

I caught a little bit of the Sandy Hook parents’ press conference today, a month after the horrific deaths of their children.  I was walking through the living room when I saw them on the television, one of them speaking, the spouse holding the picture, the rest of them sitting behind, holding their own child’s photo.  It stopped me cold.  They are us.

I’ve stood right where they are, speaking into the cameras.  I’ve sat behind the podium holding Dad’s photo.  I’ve tried to make America see how important my private pain was, how relevant it was to everyone else.  I know their pain and I know the strength they get from that pain.  I know that every single parent there wants something, no, demands something good to come from that pain.

Their fight is so similar to ours…they are fighting big money of the NRA while we fight the big money of the ATA.  They are individual families just like us, riding the grief roller coaster and fighting a fight so large it seems impossible.  But all they are asking is for dialog.  They recognize that all guns can’t go away just like we realize that all semi trucks won’t and shouldn’t disappear.

All they want is honest dialog from both sides of the discussion.  Honest, nondefensive dialog and some compromise for the good of everyone.  That shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to do.  For the kids.  So that the loss of the kids and their wonderful teachers wasn’t just a waste of humanity.  A little honest dialog.  It’s not too much to ask.

David Wheeler, whose son Ben was murdered said “What I have recently come to realize is that I am not done being the best parent I can be for Ben.”  Exactly Mr. Wheeler.  You will always be Ben’s Dad.  Always.

And I am not done being the best daughter I can be for my Dad.  My siblings and I will never be done being Dad and Mom’s kids.  We know we’ve made a difference.  That means a lot to me.

I hope and pray that the Sandy Hook parents find that bit of peace too.  We can give them that if we pressure our legislature to sit down and talk.  Honestly.  Open to change.  Willing to give a little.  And if we can join the dialog too.  Let’s listen to the other side.  Let’s consider each others beliefs.  And lets come to a middle ground for the good of all of us.

And to honor those 26 lives and all the lives lost before.  Let’s honor them all.  We can do this.  We have to do this.

Change is hard.


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Cherishing our children

Last week’s tragic loss of so many children has caused me to pay more attention to the children around me.  I don’t have kids, and have never paid much attention to them.  But I saw the anguish of the parents, and I have experienced anguish somewhat like their pain.  So I get it.  These families will live with this loss forever.

Driving back and forth to work I pass the small local cemetery.  I’ve noticed a little cherub on one gravestone close to the road and just lately have noticed red flowers there as well.  This past weekend I went to investigate.

Such a short life.

Such a short life.

This is the marker for what must have been twins, Amy Louise and Ann Leola Cranston, born and died on Feb 12, 1939.  Someone has left red silk roses for them.  Think about it.  Someone has been missing these two for seventy-three years.  They lived one day and have been missed and not forgotten for almost three quarters of a century.  Just think how long the children we lost on Friday will be remembered.

Forever.

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Sorrow to Strength – our first chapter

When Dad was killed by a tired trucker in 2004 we didn’t know what to do first.  We knew we needed help but we didn’t know where to turn.  In desperation a family member started searching the internet and found the Truck Safety Coalition.  Their website back then was pretty simple, but it had a phone number and I called the next day.  They provided information and support – and an invitation to a conference called Sorrow to Strength.   I attended with my sister the next fall only 10 months after Dad was killed.    I smile when I remember how young and naive we were then, not in calendar years, but in the ways of politics and Washington DC.  I remember being incredibly hurt and thoroughly confused at that first conference.  We were still reeling from losing Dad, and we couldn’t absorb all the information provided, but we could absorb the love and support.  And we made lifelong friends.

During the first two days we listened to families tell their stories of loss and pain and outrage.  So many of their stories sounded like ours.  Some of the families had been fighting the fight for many years.  We weren’t even sure what the fight was.  But we knew we needed to help fix the problem of tired truckers – for Dad and for all these other people’s family members too.

Sunday night we had a remembrance service with photos of our loved ones.  Those that could speak told stories about the ones lost; sometimes we laughed along, sometimes we cried together.  The important thing was that we could share our folks with others, that they were not forgotten.  It was important that people recognized our loved ones’ lives had been about much more than just the crash that took them.

Shortly after the remembrance ceremony we retired to our rooms to study the material we’d been given during the meetings.  We were emotionally exhausted, but Monday morning we were going to visit our Senators and House of Representatives.  Neither my sister nor I had ever visited a government office before so we were nervous and I don’t think either of us slept well.

But here’s the thing.  I did not know then how easy it is to talk to someone in my Senator’s office about things I know are important.  Who knew that you could just make an appointment and the staff would be gracious and listen?  Who knew you could walk into any Senate or House office building and talk to your representative?  Who knew you and I are just as important as the people we see walking government corridors on TV?  That our voices and our stories are as or more important?  That we can leave an impression, can change things, can fix things.

We met with people in small offices and big conference rooms for two days.  We were exhausted but empowered.  Maybe things didn’t change instantly after those first meetings.  But I can guarantee the people that talked to us, looked at Dad’s picture, even cried with us, were changed.  We left a little bit of our pain with other people in every meeting.  And we gained a bit of strength with each time we told the story.

We left Washington DC after that first conference with hope.  And we left a little bit stronger than when we arrived.  Sure we were still hurting.  But now we had a direction in which to move, a place to put the hurt.  A way to make sure Dad was not forgotten.

That’s the power in Sorrow to Strength.  We know we won’t ever be free of the sadness.  But making our voices heard, saving other lives?  Well.  That’s what makes us stronger.

It’s for you Dad.  And for all the others.  You’ve made us stronger than we ever thought we could be.  It’s all for you.


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Trucks muscle their way back into my life

Trucking issues are once again flooding my mind.  The work to make our highways safer ebbs and flows in my life.  Sometimes I can push it away and fool myself into believing that my life is what it was before 2004.  Sometimes truck issues seem to be everywhere I look.  This week I am overwhelmed with trucks.

Of course some of these feelings may be because Thanksgiving weekend eight years ago was the last time I saw my Dad.  Spending time with family in his home was poignant and brought my awareness of trucks into sharp focus again.  But there’s been more this week to make me focus on the truck issue once again.

A beloved father, whose wife was killed by a tired trucker in much the same way Dad was, and whose two sons were severely injured, is facing his second set of major holidays without her.  The realization of his new normal has begun to hit.  He’s finally got the boys settled and though the constant care of one of them consumes his days, he has just begun his own painful grief process over the loss of his wife and their life together.  I’ve seen his pain emerge this week, and it hurts to watch.  I wish I could make it all better for him.  But I can’t fix it.

Yesterday  my commute to work was extra long due to a tankard truck flipped over on one side of the freeway, and a couple of miles further, a double bottomed gravel hauler that had gone off the road on the other side of the freeway.   The slow snarled traffic gave me lots of time to think about what may have caused these incidents.  Turns out the tankard truck carried something very bad.  Hazard material crews were on the scene when I went by at 7 a.m. and they were still there when I went home again at 6:300 p.m.  Turns out the driver fell asleep while driving this dangerous load at 5:00 a.m.  No one died, but the cleanup is enormous.

This morning I turned on the news and saw the screen glowing with a fire on another local freeway.  A semi hit a Ford Focus, then bounced over the median, breaking apart and bursting into flames.   They say the driver may have fallen asleep.  Luckily no one died, and the semi driver only broke an ankle.

Falling asleep while driving is a problem of huge proportions.  Not just for the drivers of commercial vehicles, but for all of us.  These recent local incidents are just a few of the crashes that are occurring all across the country every single day.   These two didn’t kill anyone but across the country today an average 11 people will die and another 200 will be injured.  This morning my local news is full of the consequences on rush hour traffic, the spectacular fire video as if that were the only effect on the general public.   I am silently screaming at the reporter to wake up and see that the consequences of these crashes are much greater than a closed freeway.  Screaming that this time we were lucky.

This morning a family that owns a Ford Focus is counting themselves lucky.  But more of us should recognize that we’re all lucky every time we make it to our destination safely.  The odds are that sometime somewhere one of us will find ourselves tangled up with a commercial vehicle.  And that we probably won’t be lucky.  Please stay vigilant.  Stay away from these large vehicles that share our road.  Be careful.

Be safe.


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In a land far away

Early morning at the lake.

I am back from four days ‘away’ and it feels like I was gone a week.  That’s a good thing.
It’s hard to describe what it’s like to go from stressful work filled ‘here’ to sunny shiny watered ‘there.’ (Click the photos to see the details.)

Calm

There is always the underlying sadness that very special people are no longer there.  But still it was very good to be South.

Magical

We visited wonderful places, ate wonderful food, played wonderful music and slept until we woke up.

Yum

I couldn’t ask for more.  Except to have Mom and Dad there too.

Missing


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Janelle’s

Janelle’s…a little slice of heaven.

A few years ago on the old blog I told you about Janelle’s Family Restaurant in Byron Michigan, about an hour west of us.  It’s owned by a husband and wife whose only child, Janelle, was killed when a semi hit their car while they were stopped in traffic.  Janelle was 15 when she died.  Her parents, a cousin and the family dog survived the crash.

Once things settled down Janelle’s dad who is a chef opened the restaurant and named it after his daughter.  The tag line is “a little slice of heaven.”  Most locals know the restaurant’s story.

Byron is a tiny town, with not much more than a block of retail stores.  Janelle’s is the only restaurant downtown.  I guess I should say was.  Because this morning it burned, along with a couple of other stores.  The whole block is damaged and will likely be torn down.

You can see photos and video here.  It’s hard to watch.  Especially if you know the restaurant’s story.

I don’t know how much one family can take.  I’m sure this feels like they’ve lost Janelle all over again.  My heart breaks for them even as it is glad that no one was injured.  Still many people are out of work in a tiny rural community.  And they’ve all be traumatized.  The good news is that it is a tight community and they will pull together.

And we’ll all be pulling for them too.  When they rebuild, or start again somewhere else we’ll be there.  And if they need help cleaning up the mess or digging through the rubble we’ll be there.  If they need a hug or a handshake or a smile…well…we’ll be there.  All they’ve asked for so far is a  tiny prayer for strength.  That one is easy, we can all provide that support.

Regardless of what happens next they can be certain that none of us will forget Janelle, whether there’s a new restaurant or not.  She touched our lives even though most of us never got to meet her.

So tonight or tomorrow, when you’re looking around and feeling frustrated or sad or stressed remember Janelle and especially  her parents who have lived through more adversity than most people could imagine.  Say that quick prayer for them and a bit of thanks for our own, simpler, lives.

I will.  For sure.