Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: memories


by 14 Comments

River of hope

Lincoln Monument from the river.

Lincoln Monument from the river.

Today was the first day of the Sorrow to Strength conference here in DC.  We met in a conference room of the hotel and got to know each other a little bit, then listened to a media specialist give advice on handling reporters and doing interviews.  She reminds us that we don’t have to be experts on statistics and safety issues, that all we need to do is tell our stories and stay focused on our message.   Good advice.  We’re just regular people not used to press reporters or television cameras.  I was thinking that we should all watch politicians and learn from them;  they never seem to answer the questions asked of them, and they always stay on task with their preplanned message.

Later in the day we heard from a grief specialist, Kathleen O’Hara.  I feel a connection to Kathleen because my sister found her book several years ago and that’s how she came to work with the Truck Safety group.  We are lucky to have her.  She works with new families and helps them get set up with local grief counseling  She was amazing.  She talked about how grief changes over the years and where to find sources of strength, both from within ourselves and from outside.

Kathleen on the boat.

Kathleen on the boat.

At the end of the day the whole group walked over to Georgetown and took a sunset river cruise.  We held a remembrance ceremony on the boat, where people told stories about their lost loved ones and we laughed and cried.  We were each given a paper boat and Kathleen told us to think about our person, make a wish and let the little boats drift free down the river.  It was a beautiful and unspeakably sad moment.

Dad's little orange boat.

Dad’s little orange boat.

Dad was a water person, he grew up on the Huron River and lived on or near water all his life.  He and Mom went out on the lake often in the evenings to watch the sun set.  The neighbors tell us that after she died he went out in the boat alone every night at sunset.  So I felt a special connection with Dad tonight as we floated on the Potomac…as I watch my little paper boat float away.

Today was good.  Kathleen reminds us to see the good in what we have left, to not dwell entirely on what we lost.  Today I am reminded that I have a lot of good left…and the people at this conference are some of the very best of my life.

Hugs to all of them.  May we always have the support of each other as we float down this river of hope toward our new tomorrows.

Georgetown at night.

Georgetown at night.


by 8 Comments

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.


by 14 Comments

See you at the movies

I felt, as many did, that I lost a friend when Roger Ebert died yesterday.  I remember watching his show growing up, enjoying the sparring between Gene Siskel and Roger.  How many of us made our movie viewing decisions based on their thumbs?

I also read Roger’s blog pretty regularly.  And I was sad when he said just the other day that he was going to take a “leave of presence” while he fought back cancer once again.  He wrote about a lot of things, not always movies.  In fact not a whole lot about movies.  He was always interesting, sometimes poignant, sometimes funny.  He wrote as if we were all his friends.  I hope we were.

I like to think that perhaps he and Gene are catching up now, perhaps working on a new project together.  And if heaven is perfect and different for everyone, then I’m sure there’s a movie theater there.   I hope they get to see all the first run movies together — and before any of us.

I’ll miss him as will many of you.  But weren’t we lucky to have known him at all.


by 23 Comments

Need a puppy fix.

I was enjoying Sara’s photos of 2 year old Chewy back when he was a puppy.  Aren’t sheltie puppies just the cutest!  I need to dig out some Katie puppy pictures.

It's Mr. Squeaky!

It’s Mr. Squeaky!

Of course most of her very early photos are in a photo album I call Katie’s first year.  Bet you did not know dogs can have baby books!  But there are a few in digital form for me to share.

Mr. Squeaky wore her out.

Mr. Squeaky wore her out.

I think everyone needs a puppy picture once in awhile.  And a puppy AND green grass?  Perfect!

Finding fun anywhere

Finding fun anywhere

Thanks for stopping by!

This is MINE!

This is MINE!

We’re off on our adventure now!

Spring. Sigh.

Spring. Sigh.


by 12 Comments

60th wedding aniversary

Cutting the cake in Grandma Braun’s dining room.

Today would be our parents’ 60th wedding anniversary.

Sixty years seems, in theory, like a very long time.  Yet it seems to have sped in the blink of an eye.    They only got 52 years together here on earth, but I know they are celebrating together now.

All of us – 1974

Fifty-two years was good but not enough.  I wish we were all getting together to celebrate down on the lake.  Cake, flowers, cards, none of that matters.  It would just be good to all be together again.

Yes it would.


by 9 Comments

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.


by 13 Comments

A piece of real life infiltrates work

Mom and Dad in 1992

Today was the first day back to work for a friend whose father recently died.  We’ve known each other for more than twenty years, and I’d met her dad a couple of times.  Two weeks ago she stopped by my cube to tell me he was sick and they were going to go to the doctor.  Two weeks ago next Saturday he died from stage 4 cancer.

This morning she stopped by my cube again to thank me for going to the funeral.  And as conversations go at times like this we talked a bit about her dad, what I remembered about him, where she was in the process of sorting out the estate, how things were going.   Then she looked at me and said “Of course this was a lot different than what you went through.”    I thought about that for a bit.   She’d barely known her dad was ill and four days after the diagnosis he was gone.  Four days.  I just didn’t think that was any easier than us finding out dad and mom were gone instantly.  She was still in shock.  She hadn’t had enough time to deal with it, with her extended family, to talk to her dad, let alone sort out her own feelings.  When I told her that four days was as much a shock as instant death her eyes filled up with tears.  She said it really hadn’t sunk in yet.  I nodded that I understood, and told her we could get together after work any time.  But inside my head I was thinking..’except on Tuesdays when I have band, and Saturdays when Katie goes to school, and…

…and then I shut that voice in my head down.  Because haven’t I been in her shoes?  Both parents gone, a little lost, a lot hurting.  Didn’t I have friends that came from across the state to just sit with me and listen to my story?  Didn’t I have a friend who called me every night during the week I was in Alabama after Mom died?  She called me every single night from California to see how I was, when all I could do was sob hysterically into the phone in response.  Don’t I still have friends who will listen to the story when I need to tell it, even though they’ve all heard it before?  And can’t I extend that same love and friendship to this new orphan?  Of course I can.

She was one of the friends that held my hand and listened eight years ago when our world came crashing down.  Now her world is upside down.   And whatever night she needs to talk I’ll be there.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a band night or an obedience morning.  Sometime down the road her loss is going to hit her; once the paperwork is under control, the house is cleaned out, the siblings leave for their distant homes the loss is going to hit.   And that’s when it will be time to pass on the support I received.  Because that’s what friends are for.

Thanks Mom and Dad, for bringing us up with enough sensitivity to recognize hurt when we see it…and for teaching us that last lesson when you had to leave eight years ago – that nothing is as important as the people in your life.  But boy change is hard.

So…lesson learned.   I sure wish you could come back now.

On their wedding day