sad | Change Is Hard

June 18, 2015
by dawnkinster 18 Comments

Conflicted

Beauty at the end of an ugly day.

Conflicted isn’t even the right word for how I feel today. Maybe there is no word that accurately reflects my feelings, and perhaps the feelings of a good portion of the American population today. But I like to think I’d recognize the right word if I saw it.

I thought, for a moment, that I recognized it in President Obama’s statement when he paused and said that at some point we’d have to address how someone who wanted to do harm could so easily obtain a gun. There was anger there, and I too felt anger. But in an instant I knew that anger wasn’t the complete feeling. This time the gun was obtained legally by the father and given as a gift to his son, the shooter. I don’t know how gun control laws would have changed that.

Maybe the feeling was intense sadness. Not personal grief, nothing like the families in Charleston are going through now, but still intense sadness. And a feeling of familiarity because we’ve seen this before. And it all seems so senseless, so hopeless.

Maybe that’s it; maybe what I’ve been feeling all day is a hopelessness. There seems no solution. The 24 hour news talks about race relations and how it’s so much worse now than it was when the President was elected in 2008. How hate seems to be so much more blatant.

Still I circle back to the issue of guns. I’m no proponent of guns. I don’t have any experience with them, and frankly they scare me. But I agree that people have a right to have a gun. And I agree that it’s hard to tell when a person is carrying evil or craziness or a combination inside themselves. This shooter exhibted signs, the news says, signs someone should have noticed.

Yet his father gave him a gun for his birthday.

I don’t know who is more crazy, the young man who committed the unthinkable last night, or the father who didn’t pay attention to the signs. The combination was lethal.

We need to open a dialog about guns and mental health. But if this country could not make progress on settling gun control or mental health issues after the 2012 massacre of more than two dozen innocent people in Sandy Hook what makes us think that we can have a relevant discussion now? When will it be bad enough for us to recognize that we have to sit down, throw out the politics, and talk.

So I’m back to anger. Maybe that’s what we all need to feel. Anger that it was so easy for the shooter to get a gun, so easy for him to kill innocents. Anger that we don’t have adequate mental health programs. Anger that we continue to cry and rant but don’t resolve. Anger that people’s lives are being lost while the politicians use this and other similar tragedies to support their own, preexisting stances which are bought and paid for by special interests.

Anger tinged with intense sadness, shadowed with hopelessness. That’s what I feel as the sun sets on a long and tragic day. How about you? What dialog are you willing to start or become involved in? What word accurately describes your feelings about all of this?

Let’s talk about it.

June 5, 2015
by dawnkinster 17 Comments

Norwood’s star

Norwood’s star reminds us how wonderful the world is.

Katie here.

You remember when I told you about Norwood last March? He and his mom Debi used to go out every day for a run or a walk and they shared it with all of us. Norwood was a very cool dog who had to go to the Rainbow Bridge unexpectedly and way too soon. Mama always called him “Dude” cause he was so cool.

Photo of Dude by Debi his mom.

Well anyway, Norwood is now a bright star way up in the sky. His mom made a lot of his friends their own stars and asked us to put them up near our favorite trails, cause he loved to run with his mom on trails through the woods and parks. We got our star in the mail a couple of weeks ago. It’s been sitting on the counter where mama looked at it every day, deciding where it should be hung.

I said it was a no brainer mama! It has to go in my park!

So Wednesday we went over to my park to have a private memorial for Norwood. Just my mama and me. Mama told me I couldn’t call him Dude that afternoon, cause I needed to be respectful. So I called him Mr. Dude instead.

We found a perfect spot, in a grove of cottonwood trees, where the gentle wind in the leaves makes a soothing sound, almost like waves on a beach. We tucked it back into the trees a little bit, so Mr. Dude will have shade but still be able to watch the people and dogs that pass by on their walks.

Do you see Mr. Dude’s star above me?

There was a little breeze and Mr. Dude’s star rocked gently. Sometimes the sun would make it glow, sometimes it hid among the leaves.

We stood quiet a little bit and sent a prayer up to Mr. Dude to watch over his mom and the new puppy Seager. Then Mama arranged for some songbirds to do a musical number and we walked slowly back toward the car.

Mama let me sniff as much as I wanted, no hurry she said. And then a beautiful Monarch butterfly flew by and fluttered for a little bit right in front of mama’s face. She says she thinks Mr. Dude sent it to say thank you. You’re welcome Mr. Dude! Sure was pretty. And then the best thing of all! A flock of ceder waxwings flew in formation right overhead! Mama said that Mr. Dude had a perfect ending to his memorial — his very own fly over!

All in all it was a beautiful memorial to our friend Norwood. Thanks to his mom for sending us the star. People are putting their NorStars up in parks across the country. If you see one on any of your adventures think of Mr. Dude.

Norwood–the dog that touched hearts around the world. And made us all smile.

For you Mr. Dude!

April 29, 2015
by dawnkinster 20 Comments

Caught up in it all

I have a friend I’ve missed talking to, seeing regularly. We worked together for many years and probably would have become good friends but I ended up being her manager and you just can’t be friends with people that work for you. She retired a year ago shortly after her husband died and we promised we’d get together. We meant it.

But you know it didn’t happen.

I’ve thought of her often, mostly when I’m at work where things remind me of her. And I’ve pulled out my cell phone to call her and then thought I’d wait till I wasn’t at my desk, maybe at lunch, or before the drive home. But lunch never happens and by the time I leave I’m so tired I don’t think about anything but the traffic jams waiting for me out on the freeway.

Then this week someone else asked about her, assuming I’d kept in touch, and I made a concerted effort to reach her. As we talked today I wondered aloud how her retirement was going, what she’d been doing, how life was. What was new.

She said she’d renewed her library card, read a lot of books, watched a lot of movies, spent time with her grand kids. Slept. All good things.

And then her voice broke and stilled. With a little wobble in her throat she softly mentioned that it had been lonely. Without her husband of so many years, without her friends at work she’d been lonely. Oh she didn’t want to start working again, face the traffic in the mornings, the stress of the industry we’re in, but still…

And I felt terrible. I was supposed to have her over for dinner. I was supposed to keep in touch. And I let it go every day, day after day, while I got sucked into the endless funnel of work and life.

And she’d been lonely.

It’s ridiculous. Me, who knows more than most how short life is, who knows what’s important, let it slide. She’s someone I care about, someone who makes me laugh, someone who was there for me when things were very very bad.

She was lonely. Damn.

We’re having dinner early next week, she and I and a few more people from work who have wondered how she is and have missed her. I can’t wait. She made me laugh this afternoon in the middle of work craziness. Even while I was beating myself up. She’s good like that.

Some lessons have to be learned and relearned. What’s important are the people, not the profit. It’s pretty simple really, but oh so hard to follow through. Lesson learned.

Again.

April 25, 2015
by dawnkinster 18 Comments

Early morning musings

Katie is excited because it’s the weekend. Me? Not so much; it’s just another work day for me. So when she wakes me up extra special early, even for a work day, I roll out of bed. The sooner I get to work the sooner, in theory, I can come home.

My mind wanders as I get ready for work in the darkened house, Katie gone back to sleep on a rug in the bathroom.

Did you know that it is possible to fall asleep in the shower? That’s why they invented those benches. Far better, I’ve found, to sit down than fall down.

And when did it get so hard to put on socks? I remember standing in the middle of a room on one foot, tugging a sock onto the other without thought. Now I have to place my foot firmly on the floor and lean on the bathroom counter to get a sock on. Better that I sit down for this too.

And wandering out to the living room, turning the TV on to watch the news as I eat my whole grain cereal I notice the traffic reporter is excited. About what I wonder, thinking of my commute. Turns out she’s excited because there are no traffic backups. Of course not. It’s 4:30 a.m. And I wonder why all traffic reporters are young, blond, thin and so very chipper?

And what’s with the weather guy? Do I need a countdown on how many minutes until the sun comes up? Who really needs to know this?

Maybe I’m just grumpy that it’s Saturday and I’m making a peanut butter sandwich to take to work. The better to avoid those vending machines that call my name when I’m frustrated.

No more delay. I’ve shared my snarkiness with you.

Off to conquer my emails.

April 20, 2015
by dawnkinster 23 Comments

To love a dog

Social media. Who knew way back in 2006 when I first started blogging that I’d meet so many people. Who knew when I stumbled across a blog about an agility dog down in North Carolina that one blog would lead me to other dogs with blogs, and their wonderful owners.

The years slid by with warp speed and, inevitably, some of my favorite dogs have grown old and ill or suddenly (at least to me) moved on to their next adventures on the other side. So many dogs.

I was thinking about some of them this weekend as my friend Ellen struggles with the terminal cancer of her second ‘Merle Girl’ Boost. She lost her Tika just last month and now faces the loss of another sweetie.

It’s almost too much to bear, and they aren’t even my dogs.

Tika in 2011

I was lucky enough to meet the three of them a couple of years ago. We even got to go for a walk and I felt honored to hold Tika’s leash while Ellen took some photographs. After reading about them for so many years I felt like I was in the company of celebrities.

Boost plays with her leash

And now hearing the tragic results of Boost’s tests my heart breaks for Ellen.

I think back to all the great dogs I’ve been lucky enough to get to know, even a little bit, here on the internet. Sarah’s Misty; I cried all day the morning I read she had been set free. Most of you remember Honey the Great Dane who danced with her mom at competitions and how sad we were when she had to go. Eva’s mother Hana who left Eva when she was just a puppy, way too soon, and Dog Dad’s Deacon and Essex the collies who had to go early as well. And of course recently Katie’s Maizey and Debi’s Norwood. Heartbreaking, all of it.

There are more, so many more, and all of these losses make me very sad — but the sadness never cancels out the joyous fun of knowing them in the first place. And as Ellen herself said many years ago, if you hang out in a world filled with people and their dogs you’re going to face heartbreak. But she says, and I agree, it’s worth it.

Katie the sheltie-girl puts it succinctly. “We are only promised today, mama, let’s go to the park!”

Sharing my park with all of you.

Good advice sweetie. And while we’re there we’ll take a moment to send good thoughts out to Ellen and her Boost.

Ellen and her Merle Girls

March 9, 2015
by dawnkinster 20 Comments

A walk in the woods honoring our friend Norwood

Katie here. I want to tell you about a very special dog named Norwood. Every morning he and his mom went out for a run or a walk, and they posted the weather report from their hometown and a picture of Norwood being…well…Norwood. No matter what kind of mood my mama was in, Norwood always made her feel good. He had lots of special skills and one of them was making people smile.

Norwood makes a snow angel.

My mama and lots of other people called him Dude for short because he was such a goofy guy. And fun. And very very happy.

Tragically he had to go to the Rainbow Bridge last week, way before his time. It wasn’t anything anyone expected, least of all his mom, and now people all over the world are all weepy eyed. Mom cried all day at work on Thursday; she just told people she had a cold, cause how can you explain crying over a dog you’ve never met? But that’s Dude for you, brightening everybody’s life every morning and leaving a big gaping hole now that he’s gone.

Norwood and his mom ran trails in the woods. In the winter his mom wore snowshoes and the Dude wore his boots. He loved loved loved running in the woods. So after he had to go his mom asked us all to take a walk in the woods to honor Norwood.

He loved to run with his mom Debi.

And yesterday that’s just what my mama and I did. It was a beautiful warm sunny winter day with blue skies and white snow. Norwood would have loved it. We walked along a packed trail between the towering trees listening to the silence. And we thought of Dude and how he’d be running back and forth ahead of us, just grinning like everything. I didn’t once pull any of my princess tricks, we walked in respectful silence most of the time, and just enjoyed being together. I even did my special running recall in honor of the Dude. And because my mama had treats.

Here I come mama!

Mama says we’re glad we went out to the woods to think about Norwood. He will always be a very special dog and we aren’t ever going to forget him. We won’t forget his goofy grin, and his multi colored boots or his florescent collar. We won’t forget how he loved to go on adventures and how much he loved his mom. And we won’t ever forget how lucky we were to know him just a little, here on the internet. We know we didn’t know him as well as some people that got to meet him in person, and certainly not as well as Debi, his mom, but still weren’t we lucky to enjoy him while we could. My mama’s heart is breaking for Norwood’s mom and all his special friends. I know when it’s my time to go to the bridge he’ll be one of the first dogs I’ll look for, cause he’s just so much fun.

Until then I will think of the Dude every time my mama and I take a walk in the woods. Right now I gotta go comfort my mama. She’s getting all weepy eyed again. The Dude can do that to a mama. Anyway, don’t worry about your mom Norwood, everybody’s sending her lots of hugs. We’ll look out for her, just like you did. You run free Dude.

Man, we’re going to miss you.

Portrait of the Dude.

PS: The pictures of Norwood were taken by his mom, Debi Horvath.

February 26, 2015
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

Amy, I wish I’d met you

Amy. Twenty-seven, pretty, interesting, artistic, and by the looks of pictures on her Facebook page and blog, always smiling. I hear she was getting married in May. I never met her, never read her blog or asked her to friend me on Facebook. She was the friend and fellow blogger of a blogger friend of mine. Social media certainly makes the world smaller, and yesterday evening when my friend posted a short piece about Amy leaving a hole in her heart, about how she would be missing her friend, I wondered, so I clicked the link to Amy’s blog. There was a recent post and nothing seemed amiss. That made me wonder more so I started searching for information on Amy and her city. I found a short, one paragraph article about a six vehicle pileup with one fatality. A female.

And I knew.

Today, almost exactly 24 hours after that crash I read an article that included parts of the initial police report. All six vehicles were being merged into the left lane by State Police because of an accident up ahead. Amy was driving third in line behind two SUVs. There was a pickup behind her and behind that vehicle were two semi trucks. Amy and the two vehicles ahead of her had moved over to the left lane and slowed. The pickup behind her was in the process of moving over and had slowed. The semi behind the pickup tried to move over but couldn’t slow down fast enough, and hit the pickup, spinning it into the median. The semi behind the semi involved in the first crash hit that first semi, then slammed into Amy’s car, spinning it, then rammed into it again, on the driver’s side door, bounced off of her car, and hit each of the two vehicles ahead of Amy, then ran up an embankment and hit the bridge.

How fast do you think that second semi had to have been going to hit the first semi, Amy’s car twice, two other cars and still make it up the embankment to strike the cement bridge? It was snowing yesterday afternoon, terrible weather they say. I’m sure the truck drivers will use the weather card while explaining the reason they couldn’t control their vehicles. But these are professional drivers. We expect more from them. They, of all drivers, should know that bad weather requires everyone, especially big heavy trucks, to slow down. If that second truck had been going slower he might have run into the back of the first semi, but would he have hit Amy twice?

Amy, just like my father who was killed in a crash almost identical, absent the snow, did nothing wrong. She successfully slowed and merged. She had nowhere to go. She was killed because someone else made a mistake. And it’s a mistake that is happening across this country every single day. Four thousand people die in crashes with commercial trucks every year. Yesterday Amy was one of them.

I thought about Amy all day today. And as I drove home into a sky going purple with evening I thought about her family, her boyfriend, the wedding that won’t be, the future that ended so abruptly, the art she won’t make, the children she won’t have. I didn’t realize I was crying for her until I tasted my tears.

I became involved with the Truck Safety Coalition when my dad was killed. We offer comfort and information to families who have suffered the unthinkable. I know right now Amy’s family is reeling with grief. Her friends are in shock. Her fiance is in a black hole. I know this is not the time they want to think about what they should be doing to preserve evidence, what they will need to fight for justice for Amy. But they need to know. I wish I could hold them all in a big hug and gently help them through these first horrible days, weeks, months. Years.

I might never get to do that. But I do want them to know that when I’m working on these issues, when I’m in DC talking to elected officials and agencies and reporters I’ll be holding Amy in my heart right next to my dad. Amy has given me one more reason not to give up.

Amy. I wish I had met you. But you can be sure that I’m not going to forget you. The work we do to advance safety on our roads is done to honor Amy and my dad, and all the others killed and injured in crashes with commercial trucks. We are their voices and we are not going away.

Rest in peace Amy. The world is a little less special without you.

I can see that. Even though I never met you.

January 11, 2015
by dawnkinster 11 Comments

Parenting

I know I’ve talked about this before. And I know, not having kids, that I’m totally unqualified to speak about it. But what’s with parents providing daily, sometimes hourly advice and direction to their kids these days? I sit in a cubicle and am surrounded by parents. Most of them are parents of adult children, children who are off at college or working jobs and living in their own homes. Yet they seem to need to talk to Mom daily.

About every single little thing.

And Mom seems to be the one that orchestrates all decisions, events, discussions and sometimes even meals. Really? These kids can’t decide whether to sell their college books when the news semester starts without discussing it with Mom? They can’t go into their wireless carrier and straighten out a bill without having their Mom call? They need daily prompting from Mom to take stuff out of the freezer for dinner, or to arrange a time when everyone can get together for a holiday meal? They need Mom to negotiate between squabbling siblings?

Huh. I don’t remember ever doing any of that.

When I was in college we only got to call home once a week for a few minutes. And we’d never have called during the day because daytime long distance rates were off the charts. And no way would we have called a parent at work. Ever. For anything.

So as I watched the news last week about the hedge fund manager allegedly shot and killed by his 30 something son because he was contemplating lowering the son’s allowance and was going to stop paying the son’s rent I have to ask the question. How much accountability and responsibility is being given to these adult children? And are parents doing the kids or themselves any favors by being so involved in every single aspect of their children’s lives?

When do their kids get to be the adults?

On the other hand Wednesday of last week I also stopped by a funeral home to pay my family’s respect to the mother of a friend. She died right after the New Year, and was only ill a couple of months. You could see the adult children struggling to accept their loss. It’s a lot, the loss of a mother, for anyone no matter their own age. And as I was driving back to work that afternoon I thought about it all. The helicopter parents. The adult children relying so much on their parents for daily decisions in these times. The way things are so different now than when I was a young adult testing the waters of life. Life without parents.

And I knew for sure that there was at least one set of siblings that would give a lot for a little helicoptering right now from a mom that has moved on to her next adventure. Shoot, if I could I’d call my mom right now and ask her how long it took her to grieve her own mother. And the recipe for that broccoli rice casserole.

I turned out to be who I am because of the way they raised me. They weren’t helicopter parents, but that wasn’t the style in those days. Maybe if I had been born at the end of the last century instead of the middle they would have been coptering around me and my three siblings. Somehow I don’t think so. That doesn’t mean they didn’t love us, it just means they came from stock where you let the kids make their own decisions, good and bad. As long as we didn’t kill anyone in the course of growing up we were allowed to learn our own lessons.

Parents have lots of ways of showing love. Maybe parents of today just show it in a myriad of tiny minute decisions and shows of support. Maybe that’s not all bad. Maybe having a parent that cares is all that matters. Maybe kids will grow up when they have to, helicopter parents or not.

In the end who am I to judge parenting skills. Maybe I’m just feeling envious when I hear all those phone conversations between adult kids and their moms.

Maybe a little helicoptering would be welcome in my world about now.

Maybe I just miss my mom.

Yea, that’s probably it.

I miss my mom.

December 9, 2014
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

We are here, we are here, we are HERE!

Revision note 12/10, 5:30 a.m.: Sadly Congress passed the Appropriations Bill last night while I slept. Complete with Senator Collins’ language to roll back truck safety. Read below and you’ll understand some of what the American people lost. It’s devastating.

How many of you remember the story by Dr. Seuss titled Horton Hears a Who? It’s the story of a whole world of people living on a spec of dust who must make a glorious and loud noise to prove their existence. That’s how I feel right now as those of us associated by tragedy to the Truck Safety Coalition fight to remove an amendment to the Appropriations Bill that will increase the allowable hours a professional driver can drive each week from 70 to 82 hours. The Appropriations Bill has to come up for a vote in the next couple of days and if the language is still included when that happens much of the work we’ve done over the past several years to require professional drivers to get adequate rest will be lost.

We are desperately trying to make enough noise to be heard.

I’ll try to keep this brief as I know during the holidays no one wants to spend a lot of time reading and thinking about things as serious as death and injury. As wrenching as grief. And most of your know my family’s story; dad was killed by a tired trucker on December 23, 2004. In two weeks it will be ten years. For nine of those years we’ve been fighting the battle, trying to get a safer Hours of Service Rule issued by the Department of Transportation. Finally, last year the new rule was mandated. It wasn’t everything we wanted. We wanted the maximum daily number of hours that a driver could drive to be reduced from 11 back to 10, and we lost that fight. But at least the new rule required drivers who had maxed out their weekly allowable hours of work to rest for two consecutive nights. The two nights of rest piece wasn’t just pulled out of a hat. There’s all sorts of scientific evidence that the human body needs certain kinds of rest in order to be fully functional, and two nights in a row helps to maintain the body’s rhythm.

As soon as the rule came out the American Trucking Associations attacked. And they helped Senator Collins from Maine to write the Collins amendment which would repeal this mandated two nights of rest. It’s basically the only step forward we’ve made in years of fighting, and this amendment would put us back to square one. It allows shippers and supervisors to once again push a driver to work up to 82 hours every week. That’s twice as many hours as you and I, or most Americans, work. And truck drivers don’t get paid overtime.

A recent poll showed that the majority of the American public is opposed to increasing truck driver hours. They know about the dangers of fatigued driving. The opposition to the legislative efforts to increase the allowable hours is across all demographic and political groups. If the majority of people oppose increased driving hours, then why is Congress so set on letting the two nights of rest be repealed?

Because the ATA financially supports their political campaigns.

And that’s why we absolutely need to make a louder noise. Right now. We need every Senator contacted tomorrow and again the next day if the vote on the Appropriations Bill hasn’t occurred. We need every Senator to know that we oppose the Collins Amendment being included in the bill. The Collins Amendment has nothing to do with appropriations and it has never been debated on the Senate floor. It was worked out in a closed door committee meeting and slipped into the bill as if it was a done deal.

Well it’s not done. Not yet anyway.

Please call your two Senators. Tell them you are against the Collins Amendment being in the bill. Tell them you want our roads to be safer and you expect them to stand up for safety rather than cave to expensive truck lobbyists who’s agenda is profit over safety. You can find your Senator’s phone #’s here. And if you’d like to read more, go to the Truck Safety Coalition website, or directly to a letter from two Senators who oppose the amendment. If you’d like to know more about Senator Collin’s motivation, read Joan Claybrook’s statement.

Please help.

This didn’t turn out to be the short, poetic heart-tugging blog I intended. But it’s so important and there’s no short way to explain what’s happening in Washington DC right this very moment. I can’t explain the politics of it any more than I can fully explain the grief of losing a family member suddenly, tragically, needlessly.

Please don’t think of this as my issue, my problem. The safety of our roads is everyone’s issue, everyone’s problem. It’s only by all of us banding together and making that glorious, loud noise that we will be noticed. Please help me make that noise. Make that noise as early as you can tomorrow. The Senate offices open at 9 a.m. Let’s make those phone lines sing. You can call later in the day too. Just please call.

The roads don’t belong to the ATA. They belong to all of us. And we deserve to garner as much attention as a paid lobbyist. We deserve to get more attention. We’re the ones that voted these Senators into their offices and they should be paying attention to us. We are here. We are here. We are HERE! Say it with me now. WE ARE HERE! And Senator Collins – we are not going away.

Thank you for your support. I miss you Dad.

October 16, 2014
by dawnkinster 14 Comments

The truth behind the trip

We enjoyed sharing our trip around Lake Michigan with you through photos here on this blog and on Facebook. It was a lot of fun exploring new places, revisiting places we used to work and live, spending a tiny bit of time with friends from long ago. Mostly it was good to get away and explore.

But that’s not the reason we went.

As most of you know I volunteer for the Truck Safety Coalition (TSC), a nonprofit group that works on safety issues surrounding commercial trucks. We work through Congress and the agencies of the Department of Transportation (DOT). Most of us have family members that were killed or injured in crashes with commercial trucks and those experiences inspire us to work hard to make our roads safer.

Last week members of my family and I, along with the Executive Director of TSC and a member of another family who has also been forever changed by a truck crash, spent the day at a huge trucking company learning about their safety procedures, their plans for future safety enhancements and their feelings about the issues we’ve been working on. They invited us to come visit their facilities and talk, to see which issues we agree on and what we might be able to work on together for the good of everyone – to make our roads safer.

Imagine that.

A giant in the industry invited us, a group of hurting, stubborn, sometimes angry individuals who have no ties to trucking except through tragedy, to sit at their table and talk with them. They listened to us, expressed concern and empathy, and then told us how they are approaching safety and answered our questions as we tried to familiarize ourselves with their side of the issues.

Unprecedented.

We won’t be able to agree on everything. These are complicated issues; electronic monitoring, rules about hours of service, minimum liability insurance increases, maximum size and weight challenges, even how drivers are paid. But the more we talk the better the odds are for positive change.

TSC has worked with Congress and made some advances. We’ve worked with the DOT and made some advances. And now we’re working with a part of the trucking industry. Maybe this is another front, an untapped resource. We’ve not anti-trucking as some would like to portray us. We remind people that truck drivers die too. We’re working for safer trucking, for the good of everyone.

As a group we need to explore every avenue to safety. I am glad we got the invitation, and I’m glad I went. I learned a lot. I saw compassion and humanity on the ‘other side’ and realized once again that we’re all in this together. I know that no one individual, no one group, no one truck company can make it all right.

But together we can make it better.

We do it one day, one rule, one law, one truck company at a time. We do it in honor of those we loved and lost, in honor of the hundreds of thousands of injured. In honor of all of them we work for change. This time change began in a meeting room of a large truck company and this change is good.

And that’s why we went. Miss you Dad.

Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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