Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: trucks


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 10 Comments

Gone away

Landed at Regan National.

Landed at Regan National.

Tonight I’m hanging out with friends in DC, tomorrow the work begins.  We’re sitting at the hotel bar catching up; it’s good to see them again.  We laugh, tell stories, but underneath the smiles rests the truth, the pain, the reason we’re all here.  We’re here because there are people missing from our lives that shouldn’t be gone.  We’re here because we can’t stay away.

This is the greatest group of people I wish I had never met.   As one in the group says she told her spouse when she called him tonight….”these are my friends.”  These are the people that truly know what it feels like because they’ve been there.  People that don’t have to talk at all,  they’re just there and you know you’re not alone.  The kind of people that hug tight and long, that look deep into your eyes and just know.

Tonight was the easy part of our very long weekend.  Tomorrow it gets harder.

Time for bed, I’ll share more later.


by 17 Comments

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.


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 11 Comments

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.


by 19 Comments

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.


by 15 Comments

Georgetown plus

See the cute stores reflected in the window?

While I was in DC I stayed at a hotel in Georgetown.  I’ve never stayed there, and on my many taxi trips back and forth I could see it was really beautiful.

Living close together in cuteness.

I only had 30 minutes between meetings on one day to wander a little bit.  It sure is a pretty place.

Optimistic door.

And there was a giant library just a couple blocks from the hotel.

No time to go inside.

There was much more to see, beautiful gardens and a pretty cemetery, parks, large colonial homes.  But I had to get back to work.

No time for shopping.

And then my time in DC was up and I was headed home.

Leaving Regan National airport.

I had a layover in Cleveland…

Dropping in on Cleveland early in the morning.

…and left as the sun was rising.

Cleveland at sunrise.

Ultimately I landed in Flint, home of the Buick.

1938 was a very good year.

It was a fast trip, a busy trip.  We got a little bit of good done.  I have jet lag and I didn’t even fly that far.  Georgetown and DC are beautiful.

Someday I want to go back just for fun.


by 24 Comments

Cab speak

Halls of change.

I took a lot of cabs while I was in DC, and had a couple of interesting conversations with the drivers while dodging other cars and weaving up side streets.

The first cab ride from the airport to Capitol Hill was a none stop monologue from the driver that started as soon as I entered the cab and told him I needed to go to a Senate office building.  “You going to a meeting?”   Yes I told him.  “What do you do?”  I’m a banker.  “Oh…good job for a woman.”  I bit my tongue and told him sometimes it was a crazy stressful job.  “Everyone always want the job they do not have” he said.  “People need to be more optimistic.  People are always so negative.  Not the way to go, people need to be more optimistic.  People here, they don’t know how good they have it.  If they travel around the world like I do they see, when they come back, this is the best country in the world.  Rest of world have nothing like America.  Do you like Obama?  I’m scared that Romney win, this country go to war, lose everything.  I pray it not so.  How many kids you got?  None?  Why not?  You don’t want kids?  I guess OK no kids if you have lots of nieces and nephews? ”  And on and on it went.   As I slipped out of the cab at my destination he said “You have good meeting lady!”

The second conversation I had with a cab driver was more evenly divided between us.  He picked me up in front of a Senate office building and was driving me back to my hotel in Georgetown.  He asked me why I was in Washington and I told him I was working on some trucking fatigue issues.

“Like when they get sleepy and weave all over and then run off the road and kill people?”

“Yes exactly like that.”

“Why do they do that?  Fall asleep like that?”

“Because they get paid by the mile, and the more miles they drive the more money they make.”

“Well that’s stupid.  They should get paid by the hour like everyone else.”

“Yes they should.”

“So why you working on this?”

“Cause my dad was killed by a tired trucker.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry.  So how often do you come to Washington to do this?”

“Maybe once a year, sometimes twice if there’s something important going on in Congress.”

“How are you gonna stop them from driving too long?”

“Well, we got legislation passed last August that requires electronic monitoring of the miles they drive, so they can’t lie in their log books.”

“That’s good.  That’s very good.”

“Yes, it took a long time to get that”

“Everything slow in Washington.”

“And we’re working on a lot of other stuff too, to make the roads safer for everyone.”

“Truck drivers…. they agree with you?”

“Lots of them do.  They die too, you know, in truck crashes.  Everyone on the road is at risk.  Cab drivers too.”

We pull into the hotel parking lot.  As I’m paying the fare he turns around and looks me in the eye.

“I want to say thank you.”

My eyes tear up.

“I want to say thank you, and I wish your group well lady.”

“You’re welcome sir.  You’re very welcome.”


by 23 Comments

Flying is not glamorous.

Other planes are flying. Why can’t I?

How many of you remember when flying was sort of glamorous?  When you used to get dressed up to fly, wear heals and nice suites?  No?  Well most of you are too young to remember, but I’m glad those days are over and that I was wearing comfortable clothes and flats on Wednesday when I flew to Washington DC.  Booked on a very early United flight out of Flint, connecting in Cleveland and ending up at Reagan National, I expected to arrive in DC mid morning, enjoy a leisurely metro ride to the mall and a bit of time at the Martin Luther King memorial before my first meeting scheduled at 2:30 in the Hart Senate Building.

I did my part, got up at 3, got to the airport by 4:45, was at the gate at 5:00 a.m.  The flight was supposed to board at 5:30.  By 5:45 they told us there would be a small delay because a screen in the aircraft would not light up.  After a bit they said it would take an hour to fix and I knew I’d miss my connection, but I had lots of time before my first meeting in DC.  I was irritated but not worried.

After the hour was up they told us the flight was cancelled.  Immediately I was up the escalator and first in line at the ticket counter to get rescheduled.  I eventually scored a Delta flight out of Detroit direct to DC that would get me in around noon.  But I was in Flint.

They booked a taxi van and 10 of us crammed in there for an crazy ride in rush hour traffic down to the big city.  Along the way we encountered a traffic jam created by a fender bender accident and our driver veered off the freeway on an exit, careened through a Mobile gas station, and headed back north on the freeway we’d just come down.  We were mostly confused and stressed as we hung on tight in the swaying vehicle.  None of the seat belts worked, and I was sitting on half a seat, sharing the last bench seat with two rather large ladies.

We finally got deposited at Detroit and I ran for my flight, making it to the gate just as it should have been boarding.  It was not boarding.  There were maintenance problems with the plane and there would be a delay.  Really.  Really?  We sat for another hour or more.  I’d been ‘traveling’ for over 7 hours and had only managed to get sixty miles from my house.

Reagan National

We finally flew out of Detroit a bit after noon, and I arrived at Regan National around 1:30.  No time for the metro trip, no time for wandering amid monuments.  No time to relax.  No time for lunch.  I grabbed a cab and headed for the Hill.  Tomorrow I’ll tell you about two conversations I had with cab drivers.  One in particular was pretty special.

But for now I’m going to go to bed.  Just thinking about that flight has exhausted me all over again.


by 10 Comments

Stars are always there

The days are getting shorter and sometimes I miss the long light filled days of summer.  But these dark early mornings, when Katie and I are outside looking for that perfect spot I’ve noticed the stars are so bright that they seem lower in the sky – almost as if we could touch them.

The past two mornings I’ve seen the Big Dipper in the north, my representation of my Dad, and Orion’s Belt in the south, my representation of my Mom.  It’s not every day that I can see them both at the same time, hanging there in the sky.  So as Katie sniffs, I watch the sky and say hello to each of them.

Yesterday it occurred to me that all summer, even when the sun had brightened the sky before Katie and I ventured out, the stars were there.  They were shining above even when I couldn’t see them.    Just like my Mom and Dad who are also there, even though I can’t see them.

So this morning as I head to DC to work once again on safety issues I know Mom and Dad are right here   even though I can’t see them.  They will always be right here.  And I’ll feel their arms around me as I fight the fight.