it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The helping Chain

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The helping Chain: About three years ago, on my back porch, three women talked me into writing a blog.  That was after they taked my into getting a dog.  I sho...

The helping Chain

About three years ago, on my back porch, three women talked me into writing a blog.  That was after they talked me into getting a dog.  I should have stopped after the dog was sprayed with BRUTE but I listened to them.

The purpose of the blog was to help other people who might have children with substance abuse problems. 

During all this time, I met some very special people that also had some life experiences that taught me some incredible lessons.

This past weekend, I got a message from a lady that I admire.  I admire her for her love and her committment to her son.  Her son passed away in June.  She said she wanted to write a blog so she could feel better.  I offered to help her.

I gave her one peice of advice.  "Write a few before you post them."  I honestly do not know why I offered up that peice of advice.

During that very same day, a woman that I met through this blog sent me a private message, " what is up with the button and why don't you write about him anymore?  Are you ok?"  And then, she asked me how to find out if someone is in jail and how to find out what a person could be charged with.  Carcked me up.

Later, that evening, after I went on a baking binge that Duncan Hines would have been impressed with, I came upstairs to read about my high school.  Franklin Regional High School.  The "stabbing school."  But I wasn't reading for doom and gloom.  I was reading about the amazing things the community and other schools were doing for the victims.   I was reading about banners being signed, T-shirts and yard signs and decals, Prayer vigils, decorations and just amazing things.  Hundreds of thousands of dollars were being raised for those victims.  I love reading about the strength and the committment and the perserverance of a community on a mission to grow and succeed and be the best the community has ever been after this incident.

I looked out my window at the rain.  Sixty five people were invited to my house the next day, Easter Sunday for an Easter party.  I really only thought Noah would show.  What was I going to do?  I didn't have an ark and I didn't have room for 65 and I didn't have Plan B and Franklin was hot. 

I wrote a post...Easter....and then I read.  I read my own blog.  From the beginning.

My dear friend told me a few weeks ago that she had quit reading 16 months ago because she couldn't take the heartache.  But, she started reading and decided to fill her heart with hope, get out of bed and get a job.  If I could do it, she could too.  She did.

Anyway, I read.  I wish someone would have told me to write and then wait.  I was a mess.

I stayed a mess.  I was messy.  Life was messy.  The "button" was a mess.

But somewhere along the way, in some loving way, help and hope made it to our address. 

This blog didn't turn out to be about helping others.  It helped me.  After I got the BRUTE washed out of my dog.

And the lady I admire, it will help her.  She will help others, she will build them up, I am sure.

Easter came.  So did the monsoon.  Noah did not show up for Easter.  He was busy gathering animals. 

My friend, a mother of four young kids, who just returned from vacation said, "You cannot cancel the party, I don't have any food.  We can have it at my house."
Seriously, who comes home from vacation with four little kids and says, "hey, just got home but hey have a party at my house?"  An angel, that is who says this...and her angel husband who thinks it is ok. 

And while we worked together to make the party happen, I mentioned "my boys".  My life long friend's son had come for the day.  She assumed it was the "button".  I  shook my head and said, "Nope.  Not  the button."

The "button" called me at 12:46 am on my birthday.  He wanted to be the first to wish me a Happy Birthday.  He was.  And he called.  In six months, I have had three conversations with my son.  I have no idea what his address is, where he lives or what his life is about, but he called.

 Ground Hog day.  Every day I weigh myself praying for a 20 pound weight loss, check my bank account and pray for a 20,000 dollar mystery deposit and check to see if he is in jail (I know the website) or dead.  And after those four things, the day can only get better. 

It has.

So many people have a "new" normal in their lives.  Lives after they bury children.  Lives after Cancer.  Lives after divorce.  Lives after new jobs. 

My whole life has been plan B.  Plan B means "the best plan."

The blog was to help others, the blog helped me, another lady wants a blog, she will help others, the school suffers, thousands help the school and the victims.  Rain shows up, a friend helps me...the common denominator is help.

I saw a skeptic on the news the other day and he was saying that as "humans we are callused and don't care."  I think he has lousy friends. 

He needs a porch, a group of girl friends, a bottle of wine, a dog that smells like BRUTE and a new life.

Thanks for the help blog.







 

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Easter

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Easter: It is Easter Eve.  My favorite night of the entire year.  I LOVE Easter! In a few minutes, the egg dying will commence.  If you could grad...

Easter

It is Easter Eve.  My favorite night of the entire year.  I LOVE Easter!

In a few minutes, the egg dying will commence.  If you could graduate from college with a degree in Easter Egg Dying, myself, along with my niece Emma would graduate with honors.

If you were to be graded for your Easter Basket design, my mom would be famous.  We had the same baskets every year.  I am sure she purchased them at GC Murphy's for about a quarter.  I still have mine.  That basket is how my kids said they figured out there wasn't an Easter Bunny.  I purchased Longaberger Easter Baskets for my boys and they did not appreciate getting the same one every year...or the fact that Addie has a "really old one".  I gave her mine.

My mom would go to Gene and Boots in Delmont and get my brother and I a chocolate rabbit, with our names written on the bottom.  Pink and white lambs and bunnies and then always a yellow chick on a stick were placed perfectly in our baskets with the nicest grass.  They don't make grass like that anymore.    Then, the egg that you looked through and saw the scenne, would always steal the moment. Perfect.  As we grew older we got 45's.  OJay's singing the Love Train was in my basket one year.  Loved my mom's Easter baskets.

I very seldom shop in WalMart.  I was there yesterday in the Easter row.  Jesus himself, along with Peter Rabbit would be horrified if they would have seen this.  Little Kitty Chocolates, Batman eggs, you name it, there is a trademarked logo on it.  So commercial. Not at all fresh and delicate.  I opted out and got my kids some clothes.  One Chocolate bunny per person. 

In 2018, Easter is on my birthday.  I am booking a band.

But, that is not what Easter is all about.

Easter Sunday is perfect. 

It is not about the chocolate, the cadbury chocolate eggs in the purple bags or the bunnies and new outfits.  It is not about the ham or the deviled eggs and the Easter Egg hunts...it is about anew.

Forgiveness, starting over, do overs, fresh starts and anything is possible. 

I can remember being in Sunday School at Delmont Presbyterian Church with the concrete painted walls, hearing the story for the first time.  I was sold.  Loved it.

So tomorrow, in between bites of ham, chocolate ears and egg hunts, think about someone you need to pick up the phone and call, say hello, or offer forgiveness.  Maybe there is someone that you have lost touch with for no particular reason, that you think of, call them.

If there is something that you has aspired to do, now is the time.  Anything is possible.

If there is anger in your heart, find peace and move forward.

Enjoy the prospect of new beginnings.  Do overs and starting anew.  New life.

 

Enjoy your day with little expectations. 

Enjoy all that Easter represents.  New and bountiful beginnings.  Anything is possible.

Happy Easter.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Franklin Strong and Jenna the bogger eater

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Franklin Strong and Jenna the bogger eater: It has been few days since the stabbings  took place at Franklin Regional High School.  Even as I go through my day to day activities, the e...

Franklin Strong and Jenna the booger eater

It has been few days since the stabbings  took place at Franklin Regional High School.  Even as I go through my day to day activities, the events of the past week just sit up there, in my mind, like a permanent thought cloud.

"How did this happen at my school?"  I used to  tell people, in a very boastful way, "we didn't even have locks on our lockers."

And now, along with a few other school across the USA, FRHS becomes a school with a case study and and an ABC news truck at the bottom of the hill.

Last year, after the Boston bombing, I was astounded at the city of Boston.  They never skipped a beat.  Hours after the bombing, "they" were on it.  There was no way a bombing and two people were taking down that city.  They were "Boston Strong."  They even pledged to win the World Series on opening day and damn if that didn't happen.

I was so proud of them and felt that their perseverance was contagious.

And then, last week.

Say what you want about social media.  In less than six hours, there were banners being made, monies being collected and a suburb was coming together with a force that the Iron Curtain couldn't have stopped.

Prayer chains began, vigils and a feeling of strength and power was surging through the hearts and cores of hundreds of thousands of people.   Amazing.  They were taking their suburb back. They are still taking their suburb back.

And then, there were the naysayers.  I almost wrecked my car on Thursday when I was traveling through South Carolina and on a talk radio show, the host said that there was bullying at FRHS because the kids lived in mansions and lived the lives of privileged kids.

And I am pretty sure he has never been to Murrysville, PA.  Certainly not a vacation destination. 

I was so mad and hurt.  If I could have found that man, if I could have gotten on his talk show, I am certain the delay button would have been useful for them. 

I thought about it.  Mansions?  I went to bed every night of my 18 years looking at a star that I could see from my bedroom window to Export.  It was the star on top of the coal hill.  That is what we called it, coal hill.  Kids would climb that to make out, drink beer, whatever.  I never made the trip up.  I admired the star from afar. We didn't live in a mansion.  I know the neighborhood that the accuser lives in, not a mansion. 

And does it matter? 

There was even discussion in USA TODAY about Nathan's selfie from the hospital room.  Are you kidding me?  A young man is smart enough to pull a fire alarm to save lives and he post a selfie that showed, "hey, I am ok, we are going to be ok" and he is criticized?  Seriously? 

But I have to be honest, the negative Nellies filled me with power.  And empowerment.  I am glad they were negative.  Don't tell us, or anyone from Western Pennsylvania that we cannot. 

There are problems at every school.  Every year.  FRHS is no different.  Never has been.  There will always be bullying, there will always be bullies.There will always be troubled kids and kids that don't fit in.  We need to be honest about the problems, and face them.  Not burying them.  And if you know there is a problem, and you do nothing, you are part of the problem.  Be part of the solution.

Lets talk about this...let's talk about a community and alumni from all over the world coming together and saying, "FRHS is good."

Lets talk about the good things.  The Vice Principal, the spirit, the perseverance and the will to face diversity and fix it.

Last week, the day before the incident, my fifth grade daughter came to me about a girl in her class, Jenna.  As Addie described her; "she is disgusting.  She eats her boogers."

And because she eats boogers, nobody wants to be her friend.  She eats alone and she plays by herself at recess.  Now, Addie tells me that she feels bad for her but she eats her boogers.  Yes, she mentioned this three times.

So, I said, "Well does she eat the boogers for lunch?  I mean, have you seen her, sitting there eating the boogers in the cafeteria? "

"No."

"Okay, so let's be honest, you have picked your nose before.  I have seen you.  I have picked my nose before, you have seen me.  I am sure that you have eaten a booger once in your life.  So, she is disgusting and you are not?"

"Mom, are you telling me to be her friend??

"Yes, I want you to try it for one day.  Lead the way."

Addie went to school the next day and talked three other kids into sitting with Jenna the alleged booger eater.  Addie walked up to her and said, "Jenna, can we sit with you?"

Jenna was so excited she just about spilled her Capri Sun. They sat and they chatted. 

And to Jenna's credit she asked, "why did you pick (no pun intended) today to sit with me?"

Addie said, "No reason."

And then they asked Jenna why she walked so slowly to recess everyday.

"Because I knew when I got to recess that I didn't have anyone to play with anyway so why walk fast."

Jenna now has six new friends.  And some Kleenex.

The events of last week  are not as easy to change and turn around as Jenna the booger eater.  It will take time.  It will take healing.  It will take courage.  And it all begins with one step.  One step into that High School. 

Tomorrow, those students go back into the school.  We will all walk those first steps with them.  I know, I know in my heart, there are are hundreds of thousands of people taking those first steps with them.  Alumni, former teachers, citizens of the Franklin Regional School District, all of us together. 

It is just one step, befriending one booger eater, smiling at one person who seems scared, opening the door for the one person who is afraid to walk in, together.  We are in this together. 

We will never know the real reason for last Wednesday.  But moving forward, we will all walk and work together for the solution.  And solutions. And we will take a World Series.

One step at a time.  We are today, tomorrow and forever, Franklin strong.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: "Franklin High School Blue and God"

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: "Franklin High School Blue and God": This morning was just another typical day in most lives.  Students went to school, parents on to work.  Your typical day in the USA. In a...

"Franklin High School Blue and God"

This morning was just another typical day in most lives.  Students went to school, parents on to work.  Your typical day in the USA.


In a small community, outside of Pittsburgh, students went up on the hill to Franklin Regional High School.

"Alma mater, true and glorious, let the flag of wisdom fly..."

Only today those flags didn't get raised, the morning announcements never happened, the lunch menu never disclosed.  Instead, twenty students were stabbed by another classmate before the tardy bell ever rang.

This happened at my Alma Mater.  My day has been focused on those families and the students.

And, my mind has wondered all day to my day in the hallways.  The smell of the wide halls, the sun coming in through the windows, the humidity in the cafeteria, the auditorium and the bricks that stuck out of the wall. 

.

Today, I went through my yearbook and looked, really looked at each person I graduated with from FRHS.

Some of my classmates I had known since kindergarten,
lived on my street, in my "hood" went to my church, were in scouts or Rainbow girls with me, some I really didn't know at all.

But after looking at each picture, I could remember something, even if it was just one thing, about everybody.

"Billow forth thy pride victorious, Dear Old Franklin High".

What happened today?  What made a student take a knife and start stabbing others?  Was he bullied?  Was he sad?  Had he told anyone about his troubles?

What was it that made him think this was a good thing to do? 

And how did we get here as a nation?

Where has our country gone?  Our states?  Our county?  Our town?

When did everybody get so damn crazy? Depressed?  Anxiety ridden?  When and how?  Will it ever end?

Social media and television get the blame.  I am not buying it.

After 9-11, everybody had a flag flying. Old Glory was everywhere.  You couldn't keep flags in the store.  Not anymore. The pain subsided. 

Perhaps this is the same.  "Another" school incident.  Everybody saying the same thing.  Until the next shocker.  And then, FRHS and stabbing incident will be forgotten.  We are immune because we don't think we can fix it. 

Why are kids so mad, sad and so bullied?  I personally thought the trend was to have as many friends and "likes" as you could get.

When I was in high school, there were the "it" kids, the athletic kids, the brainiac kids, the doper kids and the "nerd" kids.  I don't think much has changed.  Maybe new nicknames but still the same groups. But we all got along.  Not all of us had something in common, but we got along. 

Regardless of your religious beliefs, I was taught the golden rule, "do onto others as your would have others do unto you."  It was the family motto, or as my brother Todd always says, "it is nice to be nice."  Be kind.

Every class and every town has a "one brick shy of a load" kid.  Our class did. I think it was Brian S.  But I spoke to him, he knew me, we shared classes together. 

And yes, a couple others, who for whatever reason, did not fit in. Not that many. No fighting.  No real bullying.  Picking on, yes, but not real bullying.  We didn't dislike people, we just didn't know them or care to get to know them.

We didn't sit around and text.  Sure, we held hands in hallways, passed notes in between classes and went to fields and drank beer.  But we kept it all to ourselves.  Not every feeling was documented in  text.  We had conversations.  We asked people out in person, we broke up in person and we got to know one another through conversations.  And we listened to others.  Listened. 

We had human communication at school, on the bus (you wanted to ride the bus to learn about sex) and at home.

If my mother ever thought that my brother or I were part of any type of bullying, she would have beat the hell out of both of us, before my dad got home.  And then it would happen again.  And we knew it.

Face to face to conversations, tonality, facial expressions are key.  Just a simple smile to a random person can change a person's day.

Listening to someone is key.  Really listening.

Yes, technology is different.  When I was a freshman at Franklin, we got the new IBM ball typewriters in typing class.  Hands on home row keys, ready, begin." So, there was new technology, just like today.  But we spoke to one another.

"We will vow our service to thee, and our strengths to reach our goals"


When these school "incidents" have happened before, you sit and watch and listen but it not the same when it is YOUR school.  The school that you had so much love for and pride.  Now, I feel like the school's spirit will be tainted.  Of course it will recover.  But for now, tainted. 

I have read and watched and listen much more acutely today.  And with a bigger soul.  So proud of young people and how they handled themselves in the face of danger.  And the Vice Principal,  Way to go. 

When I flipped my cap into the graduation air that night, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all the teachers that had crossed my path, cared about me.  No doubt.  I knew they cared about kids.  The kids at Franklin.

"We will honor and defend they, Franklin High School Blue and Gold".

I feel for the parents of the accused stabber.  With all of my heart.  I will pray for them as often as I can. There was nothing they could have done to prevent this but they will go to their graves thinking there was. 

And I feel for the parents of all students, not only in Westmoreland County, but everywhere.
Certain places are just meant to be safe, school, Sunday school, Disney World and Birthday parties. 

The students, I feel for the students. What they witnessed today, what they heard and felt, nobody should ever have to learn ever.

But, in the spirit of learning...

there is a lesson from today.  Keep it in your heart everyday. 

 Smile at one another. Be kind.  Be kind to others at all times.  If they are not kind in return, walk away.  Be friends with as many people you can.  Not Facebook friends, friends.  Look somebody in the eye, walk through fire for them, smile. When you see someone sitting alone at lunch, ask them if they would like to join you.  Listen.   Be kind.

Carry on Franklin Regional Panthers!

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My birthday.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My birthday.: Today is my birthday.  I am 53, no fooling. Maybe it is age, but I totally look at birthdays differently now. A birthday is my measuring...

My birthday.

Today is my birthday.  I am 53, no fooling.

Maybe it is age, but I totally look at birthdays differently now.

A birthday is my measuring stick, my ruler, my yardstick. 

Parties are not necessary.  Instead, quiet solitude is my gift.  My treat.

I am 53 and still can feel the texture of the rubber kick balls we used in elementary school.  I can still picture the Tastee Freeze that my grandfather and I stopped at every Friday on the way home from kindergarten.  I can still hear the birch tree branches rubbing against the window in the home where I grew up.  I can hear the wind on a winter's night howling through my front bedroom window and picture the ice on it in the morning.  I can still smell my Mamaw's house and imagine the creeks from the steps going up to my great grand mother's house.  I can see my mom in the kitchen, talking on the phone and see my brother sitting in his tip in rock watching speed racer.

It seems like yesterday I lived on Fayette Street in Morgantown, WV.  Or on Mallard Drive in Camp Hill,  Or Whitehall Drive in Mechanicsburg, Pa. Pehlam Road or Cameron Blvd, SC.

Where has the time gone?  The years? 

When I was younger I had a vision of how my life would be.  And where I would be at 53.

I thought I was so wise, so together, so mature.

Even today I wonder "if I get it?".  The goods new about being in your 50's is that you don't care as ,much as you used to...seriously, you don't.

I thought I would own a radio station and live in a row home, that had tons of charm and quaintness, in the city with a porch with lots of potted containers.  I would travel a ton and take my nieces and nephews on vacations.  I would be super in shape and volunteer.

And there you have it, it wasn't supposed to be that way at all.

Now, I wish I lived on a farm, in the middle of no where.  I wish I could walk outside, naked, and hang my clothes on the clothes line...with pigs and chickens.  A kitchen with a big old farm sink and vintage table clothes. 

Instead I have a vintage table runner on my kitchen table and if I went outside naked, there are neighbors and I would be arrested.

Funny, just when you think you have it all figured out, life gets in the way.

And, I wouldn't have it any other way.  My birthday gift to myself every year is that I am living the life I was supposed to live.  I appreciate what I have and accept what I do not have.

Honestly, I think that is the case for most of the people I know.

So, take a day, measure your life, enjoy whatever makes you smile.

Happy Birthday to us all.