friends

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Airplanes, bullets and broken promises

I read an article in the Chicago Tribune today about a number of airplane crashes in the Chicago neighborhoods surrounding Midway Airport. Many people have been killed by airplanes literally falling out of the sky. The story went on to tell of tales people shared with newspaper reporters at the time.

They shared stories of deep anguish and heartache searching for loved ones only to find pieces of them and bloodied remains. One story told of how some died from an airplane falling from the sky and crashing through their homes. People died as they lay asleep in their own beds. A young mother was thrown from an airplane and died while her two daughters lived.

On Saturday, I attended a funeral of a 47-year-old mother of two children. Her husband came home from work and found her dying in her chair. At the funeral, five days later, doctors could still not explain why she died. She was fine, her husband said. He spoke to her on the phone just ten minutes before he got home from work and recalled the last thing he said to her was “I love you.”

A friend of this woman’s said she read her Facebook post on Sunday, the day before she died. It read that she was hanging her laundry outside and enjoying the beautiful weather on a lovely December day. She was just living her life, hanging her laundry, enjoying the oddly warm weather.

And, once again the news reported stories tonight covering the countless numbers of shootings in the city. The senseless deaths of many young people who have yet to even know what their future could have been. Many simply found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Something came to mind today with all these stories bouncing around in front of me.

A couple of years ago this friend of mine named Gina contacted me out of the blue on Facebook. We had not talked for nearly 20 years. At one time we saw each other every day. We had such a great friendship but then life changed and I went one way and she went another. So, when she found me on Facebook I was thrilled. She asked to meet for lunch and we met and had a wonderful conversation about the last 20 years of our lives. We laughed about silly things and talked about old friends and funny moments.

She asked me why we had stopped being friends and asked if she had done something to ruin our friendship. I said of course not. And I recall now having to have to reassure her that she never did anything wrong or hurtful to me.

She also told me that she was dealing with breast cancer, but said that she was at the end of her treatment and was recovering. She really downplayed the whole thing and led me to believe she was on the upswing.

We parted ways that day with a big, warm hug and promised, for sure, we’d see each other again soon.

Well we never did keep that promise.  We never even talked on the phone, not even on Facebook.

About a year later, another friend called me to say Gina had died.

The next time I saw her was at her funeral.

There are so many people I think of often. Friends who I truly love and care about and miss, but don’t see or even talk to as much as I’d like. The reasons are  real and common – they live far away, or have the details of life keeping them running in a thousand different directions each day. And I too have a full schedule of life obligations.

But stories like planes falling from the sky, bullets flying through the air and unforgiving illnesses unexpectedly stopping the beating of a friend’s heart, remind me that I need to do better.

So for all my dear friends who read this, who I have not spoken to lately, please know I love you and I will try and do better. For those of you who do not know me, but have friends you have not seen or spoken to in a while, maybe this story will remind you to do a little better too.

Because when I got that call that Gina died, and realized that we had not kept our promise…..  . It was just too late.

Share, like, comment. See you next week.

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Baby, it’s cold outside!

Oh it’s cold today!

I took the dogs for a walk and felt the chill deep into my bones. My little pup Minnie was shivering as the wind nearly blew her off her tiny paws. 

As I sit here now warming up under a big fuzzy blanket on my couch, sheltered from the wind I hear screeching outside my windows, I wonder about those who cannot escape the chill today or the cold winter about to visit here in the Midwest.

This change in the weather makes me think about those who will sleep on the streets tonight, or seek shelter in the woods, along the rivers and railroad tracks, in a box, or in a dirty alley. 

I’m certain that when these people, finding themselves down on their luck today, were little kids they never said: “When I grow up I’m going to be homeless!”

No, I’m sure that they like all of us, had dreams that somehow became sidetracked. Many likely have just recently found themselves homeless, due to a job loss, the downturn in our economy, a natural disaster, an illness, a death, an addiction, a mental affliction. Something certainly unplanned and undeserved.

We cannot judge those we see on the street asking us for money. We have not walked in their shoes. We have no idea what led them to their grim circumstances. I believe that we are all just a paycheck or 2 or 3 away from where they sit.

So I have a plan. I have $100 and I am going to find one person I can help out. I will give it to that one person and ask only that they use it to help themselves in a positive way and then when they are able, pay it forward. I know it is so cliche’, we have all seen the movie by now, and it has been done or said a zillion times. But this is MY first time saying it and committing to do it. 

I’d love for you all to join me in this “Project of Goodness” and report back. Tell me what you did with $100 to help another human being, a stranger in need.

Because I believe we are all connected, and we all owe it to each other to look out for one another and step up when we see the need. Now, I know I can’t help everyone, and $100 is not a ton of money, but it is what I can afford to take from my family. And I hope I find that one person to help who will make the right choice with the $100. 

I don’t have a lot, but I have more than that daughter, son, aunt, uncle, mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, or US Veteran sleeping out in the cold, night air tonight.

Please join me in this and let me know your story! I know it will be fun and inspiring for everyone.  If you cannot part with $100, do what you can. Let’s agree to report back here by Jan. 1, 2013. Or you can email me at ermarr@comcast.net or Facebook me! 

Share, like, comment and happy hunting! 

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The man in the moon and me

As we should all know by now, Neil Armstrong, the first man to step on the moon, died in August. He was 82. And from all accounts that I have read he was a good man who lived his life quite modestly after doing something that changed, maybe connected the entire world, if only for a little while.

For this Blog entry I literrally scoured the internet and read about a dozen obits on this man.

I did this because when he died, there was one graph in one of the many, many tributes to him that hit me on such an emotional level.

A feeling that I still have not been able to shake. And I believe it is worth reprinting and discussing and sharing with the “blogasphere” why it touched me so.

I finally found it at the end of a piece written on Aug. 26 in USA Today.

Here it is:

For those who may ask what they can do to honor Neil, we have a simple request,” his family said in a Saturday statement. “Honor his example of service, accomplishment and modesty, and the next time you walk outside on a clear night and see the moon smiling down at you, think of Neil Armstrong and give him a wink.”

Oh man, it happened again! I got that lump in my throat re-reading this.
Why?

Because the idea, the visual this presents to me is so simple, yet so so so grandiose.

One thing is, I have always seen the face of the man in the moon. And so many times, since I was a child, I remember asking others if they see a face in the moon. And, not everyone does. I could never wrap my head around that.

The other thing is this.

There is one moon, billions maybe zillions of people in this world, again just one moon. OK, we see it at different times of the night. There is one Big Dipper, one Little Dipper, one of each unique, brilliant star in each of its little own endlessly dark piece of the sky. (Please stay with me here)

I have dear friends and family in many parts of this country. Sometimes I wonder as I look up at the sky at night and take in the beauty and the wonderment of the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, the moon, that one little super shiny star, that I think is a planet, that sets just to the bottom right of the moon… I wonder sometimes, are any of my dear, long-lost friends or family in other parts of this country looking at that part of the sky at that very same moment. And we just recently had that beautiful, magical Harvest Moon display, and I wondered the same thing. Is anyone out there looking at it and taking in all of its magic at the same time I am.

And if they were would we not be connected in that very moment?

When I was 11 years old, I met my biological father for the first time. Before meeting him I never even knew his name, never even knew he existed. Further, I never even knew that I was not who I had long believed I was. It was– and still is– quite complicated and hard to work through.

The reason I bring this up, is this – I remember in the months and couple of years afterward– after meeting this man, this stranger, this man who added so much confusion, pain to an already tumultuous existence–looking up at the sky sometimes and wondering if he was looking at the same part of the evening sky and thinking of me. I particularly recall one New Year’s Eve, shortly after meeting him, when the town was doing fireworks and fire crackers right at Midnight, and I went outside…There were people and noise makers everywhere, noises from all parts of town, I felt so alone. And I wondered where he was and if he was looking up at the night sky too.

I wondered in my young mind, if before he met me did he ever look up at that vast sky and wonder where I was. Did he wonder, was his child also looking up at the sky, the moon, the man in the moon? Did she see the man in the moon even?

Did he see the man in the moon?

Did we share that?

Did he care?

I’ll never know any of these answers. And the thought of this, me as a confused and sad child not knowing who she really is or whether or not it even matters to anyone, who she really is, makes me so sad.

So now as an adult, now that I have control over my life, and a loose handle on my emotions, I take these same moments when looking up at the evening sky and think of old friends, relatives who make me happy and confident and secure, people who made me laugh, smile, dance. People who love me and make me feel love. And those who may be far away, but still close in my heart and I think- what are they looking at right now? Are they seeing what I am seeing? Do they see the face of the man in the full, bright moon? Are they giving old Neil a wink?

I know, I am.

What do you think of when you look up at the evening sky? Do you see the man in the moon?

Please share thoughts, comments, likes or dislikes, click “follow” and share.

See you next week. 🙂