Again, Please Help Out Mason William Thibault

(I've blogged about Mason in the past, and a lot of people donated for his cause. That's good. A friend asked me to do it one more time, and I don't mind. Please read this blog. I know it’s lengthy but it’s worth the effort and might help save a child’s life. And if all you can send is $5, then I urge you to send it. And think about how you'd feel if it was your child or your family or friend's child.)

Say what you want about Macon police officers but they have to put up with a lot crap and are rarely recognized for their efforts.
However, recently officer Jon Wantz received an “Officer of the Year Award for 2009” from the North Macon, Neighborhood Watch group.

That’s the good news - a self-organized group of residents who actually care about their neighborhood honored an officer who is out there almost every day protecting them.

However, Wantz also received some bad news: His nearly one-year-old nephew, who entered the world weighing two pounds and who lives in Pennsylvania is fighting for his life.

I am going to post the story his mother wrote about his birth and what is happening to her little son. You can also find out more information about what you can do for Mason here and how to donate at the end of the blog.

“Mason’s journey begins on September 5, 2008. We were not anticipating Mason’s arrival until closer to Thanksgiving, however, Mother Nature had other plans for our family. I started to retain fluid throughout my whole body at my 28th week and was taken to the hospital. I was diagnosed with sudden and severe preeclampsia, or pregnancy induced high blood pressure, and my kidneys were starting to shut down as a result. I needed to be flown to the University of Maryland Medical Center in Baltimore, Maryland for evaluation and treatment, over an hour away from our home in Spring Grove, PA. The news there was not good. The only cure for my condition was to deliver the baby, because until then both of our lives were at risk. The doctors did their best to prolong delivery to give the baby more time to develop. After several days of bed rest and high doses of blood pressure medication, the decision had been made. It was time for Mason to enter the world, 11 weeks too soon.

On Friday, September 5, 2008 at 3:07pm, Mason William Thibault entered the world weighing 2lbs. 9ozs. Due to his underdeveloped nervous system, Mason required some assistance with his breathing. They had to put a tube down his throat to feed him because premature infants do not yet have to ability to suck from a bottle, swallow, and breathe all at the same time. We traveled more than two hours a day, every day, to and from the hospital in Baltimore to be with Mason.

On September 25 our lives forever changed as our tiny little boy was rushed to emergency surgery due to a drastic and sudden decline in his medical status. The doctors suspected a bad infection and exploratory surgery was the only option. Mason was diagnosed with Necrotizing Enterocolitis, or NEC. NEC is an infection and inflammation of the intestines that ultimately causes destruction of the tissue, and it effects 1 in 10 premature infants. The disease had destroyed part of Mason’s small bowel, part of his colon and his appendix. Just 24 hours later the disease returned with a vengeance, taking with it most of his remaining small bowel. Mason was left with only 10-15% of his small bowel, not nearly enough to survive. The only option was to use nutrients in the form of IV medication to meet Mason’s nutritional needs. This concoction called TPN did not come without risk. TPN has been shown to cause liver damage and in some cases, liver failure. Every patient is different. The TPN is delivered through a flexible catheter called a "central line" that is surgically placed into the chest, neck or groin. It is intended for long-term use and it too comes with risks. There is a high risk of infection involved with a central line, which can sometimes lead to the need for surgical removal and replacement of the line. Learning to use and maintain Mason’s central line now became a requirement for us to be able to take him home. We were like sponges absorbing any possible medical knowledge about Mason's condition as well as how to maintain and operate all of his equipment and tubing. We refused to be the only thing standing between Mason and discharge.

We desperately wanted Mason home for Christmas, and we almost got our wish. On December 16, 2008 we got to take our angel home to Spring Grove, only to return Christmas Eve due to an infection of his central line. Christmas would have to wait. Following a week long stay at the hospital we returned home to finally celebrate Mason's first Christmas. Aside from an occasional infection requiring hospitalization and IV antibiotics, we have been able to maintain Mason’s medical needs from home. This requires weekly blood draws from an IV nurse to monitor nutritional needs and effects of the TPN, weekly delivery of his IV fluids and supplies, and we mustn't forget lots of love and patience. I have not been able to return to work since Mason's birth due to his medical needs.

Several times during Mason's stay in the NICU, transplantation of the small bowel was mentioned as a last resort for long-term support of Mason’s nutritional needs as well as his life. There was also the possibility of his liver requiring transplantation down the road due to damage caused by the TPN.

We researched the two closest pediatric intestinal transplant centers and made the decision to contact Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh for recommendations regarding Mason's care and eventually for a transplant evaluation. In April 2009, we had Mason admitted to CHP for a week long transplant evaluation where doctors made the decision to consider Mason for transplantation of the small bowel. The necessity for transplantation of his liver will be re-evaluated as needed, but has not been recommended at this time. After a 2 month dispute with the insurance company, Mason was finally listed for small bowel transplant in June 2009.

As we prepare for the phone call that will yet again change our lives forever, there are several obstacles we will have no choice but to face. When Mason is transplanted, there is a very real possibility that our family of 3 will be separated during the week while my husband works 4 hours away from Pittsburgh. I will be relocating to The Steel City with Mason while he recovers from his transplant, which we are told could be anywhere from 6 months to a year. We must also struggle with the financial strain of a single income family and the transplant related expenses not covered by insurance. To help us with the financial strain, we have turned to COTA for guidance and support. COTA is a national charity dedicated to organizing and guiding communities in raising funds for transplant-needy patients. An estimated $60,000 is being raised by Spring Grove volunteers as well as volunteers from surrounding areas."

Donation information and other links and contacts

Information on how you can help is listed on this website, or you may contact Cindy Lowery, Community Coordinator at 717-637-0475 for details about current needs for the campaign or suggestions for fundraising events. All areas of the website will be updated with new information on a regular basis. You can sign up to automatically receive an email whenever the site is updated by creating a username and password. This feature will also allow you to leave messages and words of encouragement for our family in the site's guestbook. Please share Mason's story with everyone you know and ask them to do the same! Thank you for joining us and supporting us in our transplant journey, we look forward to sharing it with you!

http://apps.facebook.com/causes/344345?m=8104e14f

Children’s Organ Transplant Association® Giving Hope … Making MiraclesMEDIA ALERT FOR MORE INFORMATIONLyndsi Bennett at 800.366.2682

Mason is the son of William and Susan (Wantz) Thibault. His grandparents are James and Cynthia Lowery of Hanover, PA; Kevin and Susan Wantz of Alcolu, SC; and William and Barbara Thibault of Frederick County, MD.

Donations may be made in person at any PNC Bank branch location using account number 6006581384 or mailed to the Children’s Organ Transplant Association, 2501 West COTA Drive, Bloomington, Indiana, 47403. Checks or money orders should be made payable to COTA, with “In Honor of Mason T.” written on the memo line of the check.

Secure credit card donations are also accepted online here.

Mason’s family has asked for assistance from the Children’s Organ Transplant Association. The organization’s priority is to assure that no child is denied a transplant or excluded from a transplant waiting list due to lack of funds.

One hundred percent of all funds raised are used for patients’ transplant-related expenses. 2501 West COTA Drive · Bloomington, Indiana 47403Phone: 800.366.2682 · Fax: 812.336.8885·

Email: http://us.mc1123.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=cota@cota.org · Web: http://www.cota.org/

Please Take a Moment to Thank a Veteran

Today is Veterans Day. And no matter what you think about current events, or even past ones, please take a moment to thank - or at least to think about - the veterans who served and serve our country. Especially thank the old-timers because if it wasn't for them we'd all be speaking German. I'd like to thank my dad who served in the Air Force and did a tour in Vietnam. As well as my buddy Geoff Janes who spent six years in the Army. It's people like them who are going to protect our asses if it ever hits the fan. I'm probably leaving out a bunch of others I know, so here's a moment for you, too.

For more information, click on the United States Department of Veterans Affairs website.

Stupid Criminals: Breathalyzer Arrested

I bet this guy wishes he dressed as something else on Halloween. He probably wouldn't have made the news. Still, he'll be able to brag to his friends that he took a breathalyzer while dressed as one. Naw, that's stupid. About as stupid as this guy. I mean, come on. If you're going to drive drunk, don't advertise yourself. Here's the story from the Associated Press:

OXFORD, Ohio (AP) - An Ohio man dressed as a Breathalyzer test for Halloween found himself blowing into one after police stopped him for allegedly driving the wrong way without headlights on a one-way street.

Oxford police say they stopped 20-year-old James P. Miller on Halloween night and found beer in his front seat and in the trunk.

Police say Miller blew 0.158 percent on a Breathalyzer test. The legal limit for driving is a blood-alcohol level of .08.

Miller was cited on charges including operating a vehicle while intoxicated, underage possession of alcohol, having an open container and a fake ID, and a one way street violation.

Miller had no comment when reached at home Wednesday.

Work Ready Aerospace; Warner Robins AFB

Perry Swanson, a friend and the Peach County Chamber of Commerce president, put together this cool video about a Georgia work force program. It focuses, in part, on Warner Robins Air Force base, so it's got cool footage of planes.

A Simple Twist of Middle Georgia Truth

("Some recent statistics suggest that while it slept, Macon & Bibb County, Georgia USA may have become a world class training camp for pre-destined, politically egocentric and doggedly determined de-evolution.")

De-evolution: defined as a collective foot race to see how fast a community can get to the top of a quickly shifting sandpile or the bottom of a muck filled, quicksand pile, which has mysterious and legendary plans of it's own.

Statistics: defined as what the small percentage who pay attention to Macon and Bibb County's realities knew all along but didn't publicly acknowledge until yet another multi-million dollar report was commissioned.

We’d like to accept the universal truth that the world spins on it's axis in only one direction. But we have spent too many hours, days, weeks, months and years on the corners of Mulberry and Second Street and Poplar and First streets begging, pleading, praying and open recording to the truth to believe that medieval theory as an accepted, local truth.

In the midst of an undeniable global recession-depression, Macon and Bibb County's leadership finally "came together" and mysteriously entered a 30-50-100 and in some cases 300+ percent property value increase and subsequent higher property taxation into the formula to win friends, influence people and attract new industry to our area. Meanwhile a step or two away from perception-is-reality-land, as the real world turns; the state's unemployment rate is near 10 percent; Georgia leads the world in bank failures and has the seventh highest forclosure rate in the nation according to a recent Atlanta Journal-Constitution article. The only thing left between our local leadership's perception of current, economic and criminal chaos reality and the proverbial wall is a few quarters of forthcoming, post-stimulus, wall street earnings reports.

For every grain of good that gets done, we continually let our community and our individual selves twist, conceal, and misperceive the obvious and common sense truths that could yield true change, thus pushing ourselves backwards and down, contrary to the natural progression of evolution and rebirth working simultaneously in our midst.

(Some neighborhoods, like North Macon, have organized highly succesful “crime and school watch” programs; The College Hill Corridor revitalization initiative is underway; and with the help of tens of millions in federal, public and private funding, Newtown Macon has built scenic, award-winning, foot-path, escape routes out of our community. As a footnote, one of these groups relies soley on the collective goodwill and community spirit of it's members, no dues, fees or self serving politicians allowed.)

Many of those that have not fled Macon and Bibb County, suffer in a deafeningly silent quagmire of apathy, ignorance and fear. Our perceptions are as thin as famine. We’re perpetually looking toward the horizon for rain in the form of grants, donations and non-profit charity to plug the dike.

Subprime mediocrity and comforting, "perception is reality", self delusion appear to have become Macon and Bibb County's objective. It doesn’t take a two-year study by Gallup and the Knight Foundation to reveal our problems.

Our homegrown, patented, trademarked, notorious, brand of egocentric perceptions, realities and twisted, concealed truths are just three of the local indigenous commodities that allow us to continue deceiving ourselves as the outside world spins in its own evolutionary and rebirthing direction.

A recent Forbes magazine study says that Macon & Bibb County is the seventh poorest area in the country. (We were the last to know and still won't admit it.)

A recent Knight Foundation Gallup study also noted that residents say they feel less connected to the community.

Yes, we must acknowledge that only 400 people completed the Knight-Gallup survey. People who complete surveys and parlay the obvious are considered odd misfits around these parts. But never fear, we are not alone. Our leaders must "come together" to further backscratch and conceal the obvious.

Look at some downwardly spiraling communities of the universe that joined Macon at the bottom of the quicksand pile. Be contrarian and maybe, actually try to think about it. Evolutionarily speaking, Macon and Bibb County, Georgia are on the same level as Gary, Indiana, Akron, Ohio, Wichita, Kansas and Detroit, Michigan - which according to Wikipedia (which is actually reliable this time) is the only American city, geographically centered above and North of Candada. And since local intellectuals Erick Erickson and Chris Krok have enlightened our community as to how evil Canada is, while ignoring our Red State banking crisis and local and state property tax increases, we all know what being north of Canada means for our local future.

Do you still feel left out? Do you all feel a sense of connectedness and personal responsibility to your community now? Are you now willing to pay attention and hold yourselves and our elected leaders accountable?

What can the individual citizens of Macon and Bibb County Georgia, USA do at this late stage of the game?

Unfortunately, probably not a whole lot. Maybe Prayer but since we reportedly have more churches and criminals per capita than anywhere on the globe, haven't we tried that? Elements of the solution formula are still mysteriously beyond our perception. We should continue to look, listen, ask tough questions and look for simple, common sense solutions. The truth, they say is out there, somewhere, over the rainbow and may painstakingly begin with tough love from within.

Meanwhile back on the ranch and back to the number one reason for our current civic, deevolutionary quagmire; Globally speaking, we're No. 1.

As exemplified during a recent, shocking moment of clarity, a Telegraph editor, after having been enlightened by local, Crimestop USA leader Warren Selby, enlightened us that 1) Out of all the Countries in the world, the USA has more people in it's criminal justice system by way of incarceration, probation, parole, sex offender registries etc, 2) Out of all American states, Georgia has the most per capita and 3) The Telegraph editor-radio talk show host chose to advance this stat on the air, maybe so that yet another local truth could evaporate as a mere perception of our past.

As far as we know, he never put it in print and he made us multiple choice, guess the final alarming statistic... Bibb County, Georgia USA has more people per capita on the wrong side of the Criminal Justice Sytem than any of the 159 Counties in Georgia. Therefore, globally speaking, Bibb County has achieved a first.

Perhaps the city could hire more law enforcement officers. They’re the ones who, along with Neighborhood Watch Groups that tackle the crime at street level. The Macon Police Department needs an incentive based pay scale and respect from city leaders and residents. But the force also needs more officers to combat the escalating crime. And the city needs more money to hire them. A $1.7 million stimulus grant recently fell from heaven and into the laps of the fearless, by way of avoidance, fifteen members of our fair city's City Council. It allows them to hire 14 new police officers for three years. After that, the City would be required to pay the final and fourth year salary to the tune of half a million or so. At the Oct. 20 Council meeting there were some that wanted to void the grant because the City would have to pay half a mill to get S1.7 mill and 14 more boots on the street.

As reported by Nwatch Leader and writer Don Brunel a local, unholy alliance has progressively exposed our local judges, courts and criminal justice system as collaborative of spineless wimps, to understate the problem. They have chosen to consistently, rapidly release violent offenders back onto our streets rather than have them suffer the consequences of their actions upon their victims and our community.

The Forbes article, which named us number seven in poverty may have it's facts skewed. Maybe Macon isn’t really that poor overall. The polls didn’t take a few things into consideration.

You see, the local thugs are much smarter, more organized and more technologically advanced than many in our current criminal justice and court system leadership. And the off balance sheet, Macon-Bibb community commoditizes items items other than cash to make ends meet.

The Forbes' poverty stats didn’t take into account the Macon-Bibb felony offender-illegal gun trade, dope, stolen merchandise, shoplifted items, pawn shop personal revenue, gambling revenue, stolen vehicles and parts, sex trade revenue, church cash, shot house proceeds and political cash hidden in ceilings.

Yes, it’s an observation of the highly obvious. To some at least. Perhaps not to a local leaders like Macon Councilman Alveno Ross.

No, Mr. Ross would like to spend time lamenting the fact that “our city fathers gave away the goose.” That was a reference to a recent council discussion about the Macon Water Authority, according to the Telegraph. You see, some members, apparently not satisfied with the mess they inherited from former Mayor Jack Ellis, want to raid the Water Authority’s piggy bank. (Aren’t you glad the city doesn’t run the water authority? The water would have dried up a long time ago if it did.)

The real “golden goose” that was given away, Mr. Ross, was the city’s pride under the Ellis leadership.

And let us remind folks that you stood there and watched, supported Ellis as he did everything he could to drive this city 90 mph off the cliff. Hell, you still defend him. But, maybe you’re just defending your own actions or lack therof?

Our community's ever elusive truth may be found near the bottom of the quicksand pile, near australia, whose toilet bowls are said to rotate in direct and defiant opposition to the twisted truth that we find here in our beloved cradle of subprime mediocrity.

Still, maybe there is small amount of hope to help shift the sand.

According to the late to reality, twilight lamenting truth organ-newspaper that we affectionately call the Telegraph, Councilman Rick Hutto recently said: “At least we’re not Albany, (Ga., which ranked fourth on the Forbe's poverty list).”

No, we’re not, for now.

But the undeniable reality finally has our twisted perception by the kahunas and from recent accounts by almost all of our third world, local, intellectua pundits, the next stop appears to be lower on the limbo pole. With history as our precedent, we will "come together" for a brief moment after a murder and then swirl forward, further into the de-evolution of denial and twisted truths.

Please forgive us for those we left out.

Our final question to you and yours is: "Where shall we begin to put our once beloved, Oscar Meyer Weiner back together again?"

The Journalism World Takes Another Hit; Mike McQueen Has Passed Away at 52

Mike McQueen (left) is with his son now.

And the journalism world just plummeted another step down.

McQueen, a former managing editor at the Macon Telegraph, died Sunday. He was 52.

I could say a lot about him, all of it good. But I think over the next few days people will say it better.

I know that I lost a good friend, albeit one I haven’t talked to or emailed in about four months.

Still, I thought of Mike often. He was definitely one of the good guys.

I will say, however, he was one of the best editors I ever worked with. And that’s a pretty high number.

He was an incredible and understanding editor, too. When most reporters make the jump to an editor position, it takes them about six months to forget what it’s like to be a reporter. Their demands are insane, their editing shoddy.

Not with Mike. Even 20 or more years after taking the leap, he never forgot. The guy was the real deal. Not only a true professional, but a good person. And he was a heck of a writer.

And I really admired him.

Here is the story by the Associated Press:

NEW ORLEANS, La. - Mike McQueen, chief of bureau for The Associated Press in Louisiana and Mississippi, has died. He was 52.

McQueen, who had been on medical leave since the spring, died Sunday from complications of cancer and congestive heart failure.McQueen's journalism career spanned three decades, including two stints with the AP and work on two Pulitzer Prize-winning newspaper teams.

"Mike's passion for stories and his love for fellow journalists could light up a room. He was a creative and caring editor and newsroom mentor. We are heartbroken about his passing," said Kathleen Carroll, the AP's executive editor.

In 2006, McQueen returned to the AP as assistant chief of bureau in New Orleans, helping manage the news report and AP's relationship with newspapers in the two states.

Later that year, he was promoted to chief of bureau.

"Mike took on a big challenge when he came back to the AP," said Michael Giarrusso, AP's regional news director for the South and West. "It was just months after Hurricane Katrina, and the two states, newspapers throughout the region and the AP were still dealing with the aftermath of the disaster."

McQueen, formerly managing editor of The Macon (Ga.) Telegraph, was part of a Knight-Ridder team of editors who traveled to the Gulf Coast region in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

McQueen worked with the Sun Herald newspaper of Biloxi-Gulfport, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service in 2006.

"I will always remember him as a strong and able man who helped us in the time of our greatest need," Executive Editor Stan Tiner said.Earlier in his career, McQueen was an editor at The Miami Herald, where he was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team in 1993.

McQueen began his career in 1977 as a reporter for the Tallahassee Democrat after graduating from Florida State University. He had a master's degree in communications from Florida Atlantic University.

McQueen joined AP for the first time in 1980, working in Miami as a reporter and editor, and then in Tallahassee as correspondent before joining The Miami Herald in 1984. McQueen later worked on the staffs of USA Today and Gannett News Service, and served as chair of the journalism and broadcasting sequence of Florida International University's School of Journalism and Mass Communication.McQueen was a longtime member of the National Association of Black Journalists and was the organization's Southeast regional director from 1986 to 1988.

Ronnie Agnew, executive editor of The Clarion-Ledger in Jackson, Miss., said McQueen was an outstanding professional who helped promote diversity in journalism.

McQueen's oldest son, Michael McQueen II, was killed in 2006. His roommate, a fellow former U.S. Army Ranger he served with in Afghanistan, was convicted of murder and sentenced to 35 years in prison.

"Even in times of great tragedy, when he lost his son, he was still calling Jackson to see if we needed anything from The Associated Press," Agnew said.

Funeral arrangements were planned for later this week at St. Ana Episcopal Church in New Orleans, said his wife, Glenda McQueen.Other survivors include his son Otto of Thibodaux, La.; a younger brother, Christopher McQueen of Miami; and a sister, Nicole Brewton of Pembroke Pines, Fla.

Halloween Event to Help Children with Cancer

Macon - OK, so it's not necessarily a "Halloween" event, but I had to come up with some sort of title that fits. (So get your running shoes on.) Anyway, Jay’s Hope, an organization that supports children with cancer and their families, will host a 5K fundraiser on Oct. 31. The race will start in the Amerson Water Works Park and loop around the neighborhood and back into the park. The hour-long race starts at 8 a.m. A festival, which will be held in the park, runs from 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. For more information or to make a donation, please email Cindy Gaskins at http://www.blogger.com/cindy@jayshope.org

Vote for the $1 Million Dog; Help a Shelter

Yes, I blatantly ripped this blog off my buddy Travis Fain's site. I did it because I'm lazy and it's for a good cause. Plus, the dog is kind of cute. Here's what Travis had to say:

This is AC the Pup, mascot for the Macon Animal Shelter. If he gets enough votes this week in a Cutest Dog contest, the shelter could win $1 million.

Go here for AC's page. You have to register in the top right corner, giving your email address. You should then be able to vote for AC. If not simply search for "AC PUP" in the Gallery.

You can vote once a day, per email address, and the contest continues until next Sunday. Tell your friends.

What Should You Take with You to Bed?

The answer: your car keys. I thought it was pretty silly, too, until I read this email:

“Put your car keys beside your bed at night. Tell your spouse, your children, your neighbors, your parents, your doctor’s office, the check-out girl at the market, everyone you run across to do it. If you hear a noise outside your home or someone trying to get in your house, just press the panic button for your car. The alarm will be set off, and the horn will continue to sound until either you turn it off or the car battery dies. Your car keys are essentially an already-installed security alarm system. The alarm will go off from most everywhere inside your house and will keep honking until your batteryruns down or until you reset it with the button on the key fob chain.

"It works if you park in your driveway or garage. If your car alarm goes off when someone is trying to break into your house, odds are the bad guy won't stick around.”

Still, my answer probably would have been different if someone asked me the question and I hadn’t received the email.

OK, that's my public service announcement for the month.

Macon Wants to Cut Employees. Yeah Right.

Macon- Here’s a shortcut to thinking: The administration wants to cut city jobs.

OK, like that’s never been proposed before. Like that’s never worked. Like that’s actually going to work.

It’s not. Why waste time? Just so you can get your name in the paper? Seriously.

The council isn’t going to budge. Members aren’t going cut voters, I mean employees.

Still, some like irony. The City Council president told the Telegraph that the city is “top heavy” and that cuts “could start with those salaries.”

Of course, they could also start with elected leaders, too.

For more on this ridiculousness, read (super reporter) Travis Fain’s story.

Richard J. Donila, July 2, 1955 - Sept. 28, 2009

(Pictured to the left: My uncle Richard with his mother, my grandmother, Lila Donila. She passed away more than a decade ago. I still think about her.)

I want to thank everyone for their prayers to my uncle, and the kind notes that were sent my way. Strange things happen in life, and it seems the worst things happen to the best people.

My uncle passed away. I was in Massachusetts this past weekend to attend his wake and funeral. A lot of people were there.

During the weekend, I met many of his friends. I'm now glad to call them my friends.

I was glad to know that he touched so many lives.

And it was inspiring to read one card placed with a bouquet of flowers that read: “Richard liked people. And people liked Richard.”

I think that sums it up.

I was asked to talk about Richard at the funeral, say a few words. I put together something quick because it hurt to think about him. Here’s roughly what I said Saturday, Oct. 3 during my speech:
　
I hope I somehow stumble into making sense.

I know that I’m going to forget something and wake up at 3 a.m. and think: I wish I had said this. Or I wish I had said that. It’s those moments of near slumber when things you regret come to you.

But my dad asked me to give a speech, talk about my uncle Richard. I’m not really sure it should be me. But I was told I’m good with words. That’s kind of funny because right about now, I really don’t know if I have any words. A lot of what happened escaped words.

And I think any words I have are too small to fill the worth of Richard.

If you’d bear with me for a moment, I’d like you to close your eyes. I do an exercise when I’m deflated, something that helps get me through.

I’m not trying to be poetic, or trite. But, if you would, please close your eyes and think. Think about the stars without wondering about them. Think about the ocean without its beauty and think about the sunrise without what it could bring.

It’s kind of hard to strip away nature. It’s blasphemous almost. But it lets me know how important life is. And how important some people mean and have meant to my life.
Richard is one of those people.

When I saw him yesterday at the wake, as he rest with his hands crossed, he reminded me of sculpture I once saw of a knight lying on a tomb.

Richard was my knight. I think maybe because he was my hero. I never told him that.

Even when he was in the hospital in his final days, I could only utter sob-filled short sentences, telling him he’d be OK. I’m just glad that I got to tell him that I loved him.

There’s just so many things you’re not taught in life. And one of them is what to say to someone who’s dying.

But Richard, Richard was not only a credit to life, but to the better angels of our nature.
He had a thousand watt smile that lit the faces of those around him.

And spending time with him - wow - the fun and laughter we had was as much a part of the home as the furniture.

On a bad day, Richard’s kindness could probably unzip the clouds and reveal the sky.
He was that great of a person.

When I finally told my son, Jonathan, about Richard, he started crying and asked: “Who’s going to take care of Papa?”

Even at his age, he knew how much Richard meant to people.

You know, for awhile I mentally kicked myself pretty hard. My mind was affixed by nails of grief and remorse. An invisible orchestra of steel drums pounded along inside my head, and I was left with a naive wonder that follows such a horrible conclusion. Was there anything I could have done?

I wanted to know why this happened.

But sometimes there is no why.

I was upset and frustrated that I didn’t call Richard when he first went into the hospital. I thought his visit was routine, nothing more for me, family, friends, you to fret over. I figured he’d come out, making a wisecrack or two, and I’d see him some time this year. Talk to him.

So, when he died I suffered. It’s something I think about a lot. I think we all suffer, but only how and why we do it is different.

But pain, it marks faces, makes us all look alike.

I’m not sure, but I think sadness is necessary sometimes because it lets us look ahead to the periods of growth that follow it.

I let that thought linger in my mind. And for a few numb days, every step I took felt slow and long.

But last night was peaceful.

And, right now, I can barely find the will to complain.

I‘m not kicking myself anymore.

A tiny suggestion of dawn now peaks over the horizon.

Because Richard is with his mother, my grandmother, my grandfather’s wife.

And she’s taking good care of him, making sure he eats his soup, watches out for their dog Shantell, and makes sure that he doesn’t get bitten by that nefarious yellow-headed Amazon, Dodo, who squawked like a rusty hinge and snapped out like a rabid mental patient every time you walked by him.

You know, now that I think about it, maybe Dodo isn’t with them. No, I’m just kidding.

But no, I can’t find the will to complain, to chastise myself.

Because Richard’s happy right now. And, despite whatever emotions may creep up and writhe inside my guts, twisting them away like a cheap grater scratching an orange peel, I’m pretty happy. Or at the least, content.

I’m not upset that I didn’t call him when he first went into the hospital. And, I’m not upset that I’ll never know that if in his last days when my dad held the phone to his head and I told him I loved him - if whether he heard me or not.

Because he knows. And I know.

And I also know that in the end I didn’t have to call him.

Because I can always call on him.

And just like when I was little, when he’d give me gifts like a trip to the ballgame, a concert, the track or a nice restaurant, he gave me something right before he left. He gave it to you, too. All of you.

He left us all with the special memories of the special times we had with him; the good times.

He left all of us that piece of him. Just make sure you keep the gift safe and don’t forget about it. I know I won’t.

Thanks.

Again, Please Say a Prayer for My Uncle

(Pictured to the left is my younger brother, my uncle Richard and my son.)

I spoke to my uncle, but I don't know if he could hear me.

More than 1,500 miles away where he fights for his life in a Boston hospital and through a telephone. I told him I loved him. I told Richard how much he meant to me. (You can read the blog a little further below for a short essay about him.)

My dad called, telling me that my uncle and his only brother, Richard, is bleeding internally. I didn't want to hear more. I want to remember him the way he was when I was younger. The way he was when I last spoke to him a few months ago near his 54th birthday.

But I did want to speak to him. So my dad held the telephone to his ear. I just don't know if he could hear me.

I had a lot I wanted to tell him. Probably a lot I never told him. But I kept it simple. I hope I have the time some day to tell him all the things I should. And how much he means to me, my family and his friends.

I told him he was going to make it. I hope I didn't lie.

My telephone conversation lasted eight minutes and thirteen seconds. I think less than a minute was spent telling him how important he is to a lot of lives. I know I didn't lie there.

The doctors, as the commonly say, in serious situations, told my parents that "nothing short of a miracle will save him."

He loved betting on the dogs and he was great at a friendly game of poker. He always picked the long-shot, and typically won.

I'm going to pick the long-short this time, too.

I ask that you keep him in your prayers.