An open letter to teachers

On June 27th our youngest child, Gabrielle, will graduate from public education. This marks the final celebration of educational pursuits on a K-12 journey for our children. Here are a few things I want to share with you.

6480 is the number of days our 3 children have spent in a classroom - assuming 180 days of school for 12 years. This equates to 42120 hours immersed in a variety of intellectual, social, emotional, artistic, physical and spiritual awakenings.

If we average 4 teachers per year per child – that means that our children have received direct instruction from 144 teachers. If we consider that each teacher has, at minimum, a 4 year University degree, then they have had access to 576 years of post-secondary education (mind boggling isn’t it!)
Through their school experiences our 3 children have been involved in hockey, dance, drama, travel club, community service, band and on and on. If we average 1 hour a week for their accumulated school careers – that works out to 1296 hours of extra curricular activities supported by teachers, administrators and a variety of other dedicated school staff. It is partly through these “extra curricular” opportunities that our children learned about the value of being spiritual human beings. social activists and change agents. 

Our three children learned the importance of working as part of a team, not giving up when it got tough and how to balance school with a healthy social life. From Christmas Concerts, spring recitals and musical theater to various other performances and activities – you were there for our kids. Because of exceptional teachers, supportive school boards and dedicated administrative teams, 2 of our children have experienced cultures in Japan, Europe, New York and California.

As teachers, administrators and various other school personnel you continued to attend professional development (often at your own cost). You continued to pursue Master’s degrees, after degrees and take specialty courses in new ways of teaching, thinking and being with kids. Thank you for making it a part of your own professional growth plans to learn and grow (often on your own time).

Gabi, Shea and Trent challenged you. They arrived late, didn’t hand in their homework, failed to achieve passing grades on assignments and could be stubborn. You never gave up. You never quit on them. You phoned, you e-mailed, you sent notes home. You had parent meetings, provided report cards and sent a variety of updates so we would know how they were doing. In the event that I forgot to say it each and every time I corresponded with you - thank you.

When our youngest daughter Gabrielle walks across the stage on June 27th it will mark the end of our kids attending K-12 public education. It will mean you made a difference in the lives of our children. In the big ways and in the small ways: in the halls, the classrooms, the libraries, the counseling offices, the band rooms, hockey rinks, theaters, lunch rooms, art rooms, busses, playgrounds, churches and on field trips.

To every janitor, lunch lady, office assistant, educational assistant, teacher, school administrator, counselor, trustee, central office staff who have contributed to my children on their first 12 years in school (kindergarten and preschool of course) – Please accept our deepest gratitude and heartfelt thanks.

....And that's what makes me smile today.

Behind the Emerald Curtain in Keyano Theater - My Hometown The Musical

As a child one of my favorite parts in The Wizard of Oz occurs when Dorothy searches for the Wizard who is concealed behind the mysterious emerald green curtain.  I recall being an adult and how disappointed I was when I realized that behind the peculiar curtain was a fraud and the magic I had imagined did not exist.  As part of the cast for the most recent Keyano production, I was hoping the same would not be true. 

Over the years I have attended many theatrical events and had no idea what went on behind the mysterious curtain or the stage doors that say “Cast and Crew only”.  Now that I have survived 3 months of rehearsal, tech week, Cue to Cue, Preview night, opening night and 2 performances I have some thoughts to share about what occurs behind the massive drapes.

5:30 p.m. back stage doors open.  The cast and crew begin wandering in.  Three short months ago we boarded this ship as strangers.  At that time shy hellos and friendly smiles were exchanged.  Glances shared between familiar faces as we tried to remember how we knew each other.  Now as I arrive back stage I am greeted by my cast mates who have been on the same journey as I have been. No longer strangers but very familiar faces.  Laughter and conversation fills the air with updates such as  “How is your grand daughter?” “How are your wedding plans”  “My mom and dad surprised me to see opening night” fill the halls. 

6:00 p.m. check in.  We make sure that we check in and head to our perspective dressing rooms.  I am fortunate to share my space with 7 other gals ranging in age from 15 to 50 including a High School student, Administrative leader, Media mogul, lawyer, stay at home mom, College student, Advertising executive and College Instructor all sharing the same space.  Sometimes the space is quiet and other times break out in spontaneous dance using our brushes as microphones as we prepare for the opening number on stage.

6:30 p.m. We are called to the stage for our vocal and physical warm ups.  Taking deep breaths we stretch our vocal chords up moving up and down the scale with a variety of exercises that are meant to help us with the singing and speaking parts that lie ahead.   We stretch and feel the ache of tired muscles as they begin to relax and our heart beat rises.

6:50 p.m. 100 cast members form a huge circle on stage and an impromptu dance off takes place.  Clapping, cheering and encouraging hoots echo throughout the empty theater.  At the end, the entire cast holds hands and rush to the middle with a huge “My Hometown”  cheer filling the rafters.

7:00 p.m. cast and crew move to their respective spaces.  Things get a little quieter as the stage gets set, make up is applied and costumes are organized.  In one of the back rooms a cast member breaks out her guitar and sings a few songs.  In another room two actors turn off the lights and lay on the floor on makeshift beds – made out of a blanket and pillow on the floor and try to get a 20 minute power nap before show time.  Back stage assistants wander from room to room checking to see if help is required offering assistance where needed.  

 7:30 p.m. Half hour notice is shared throughout the hallways.   Everyone responds to the last bit of time before Curtain call a little differently.  Our room has been sharing favorite tunes and singing shamelessly into the air.  Some folks remain more reflective and their room stays quiet as they go over lines and review their various moves off and on the stage. 

7:50 p.m.  We are called to back stage.  When you enter this “Sacred Space” you hear the dull murmur of an audience on the other side of the curtains.  Your cast mates whisper “Break a leg” “Good luck” “Have fun” and high fives are exchanged as we all take our places.

8:00 p.m.  The house lights fade and the familiar voice reminding the audience to “enjoy the show” can be heard and then, the first few strums of Springsteen’s “My Hometown” begins signaling the start of the evening’s performance and then the performance begins. 

What happens for the next 2 ½ hours on stage is seamless.  What goes on behind stage works like a well oiled machine.  People moving from place to place keeping in mind “What happens next”.  A high five with Jerry in his booth as we pass by, a wink from bear as he sits at the bar, a squeeze of my hand from my dance partner Piper.  Indeed a place where kindness, happiness, positivity, optimism, friendship and hope prevails – now I know that magic really does exist behind Keyano’s Emerald Curtain.  

(Photos taken by Keyano College Photographer and can be found at www.keyano.ca)

It seems like only yesterday

My best friend Lisa and her  9 year old daughter Natasha were killed in a tragic traffic incident in May of 2003.  I think of Lisa often.  I really miss them both.  It reminds me to take every opportunity to say thank you, I love you, I am proud of you, you make a difference in my life.  

For Natasha and Lisa Edey

Natasha

It seems like only yesterday

I saw your pretty face

The little cherub cheeks

And the dimples right in place.

It seems like a few days ago

I heard your laugh so sweet

As you ran about the playground

Or just walked along the street.

It seems like just a week ago

I helped you comb your curls

You dressed up like a princess

Such a pretty little girl.

It seems like one short month ago

I kissed your soft pink cheek

You and Gabi laughed and waved

“I’ll see you just next week”.

It seems like just last summer

We built castles in the sand

We dipped our toes in water

And I held your little hand.

If I close my eyes, then in my mind

You’re still doing all these things.

Only one thing’s changed, in my mind

Now you’re wearing wings.

Ten years have come, ten years have gone

Since last I watched you play

But somehow in my memory

It seems like yesterday.

Lisa:

I Smiled when I thought of you today. You crossed my mind as you often do.   I think of you at the strangest time. Like when I am combing my straight hair.  How you hated those blasted curls.  Or when I am hemming my pants…and you used to use staples.  Today I bought a plant and I thought of your endeavors to grow plants and thinking weeds should count.  I laughed out loud when I told another lady the “stuck in a foreign country story.”  I dug out a song we wrote and tried to sing it to my kids, but it just didn’t quite sound the same as when you and I croaked it out together. I found my eyes, once again welling up, as I smiled…when I thought of you today.

Back Pack of Happiness

I stand here before you to confess that I have backpacks that I don’t know exactly what is at the bottom of.   I have a place in my storage area where my backpacks are neatly placed – and I refuse to get rid of any of them in the event that an occasion might call upon their use.  My backpack addiction is my children’s fault really.  In Sherry Duncan BC – Before Children - I was perfectly happy with my own version of a carrying device  ….. known as my back pocket.  I think that many men have it right.  They carry everything they need in their back pocket.  What they don’t have they don’t need or, they buy as they need it.  I liked that system until my 20’s.  It was my version of Cash and Carry.  In my 20’s I had kids and carried a back pack of sorts that had all the necessities of being a parent.  Diapers, spare clothes for the kids, bottles, little blankets and such were neatly folded in the sides.  I suppose this was a “mommy back pack”.  My kids spent a lot of time at the arena growing up.  It was so clever and truly ingenious (according to me) that I could have every thing a mom would need at the arena.  Extra mitts, a warm blanket, some extra money for French fries, chap stick – that bag got me through many an arena crisis and was always located in my trunk.  I don’t own these ones any more because by the end of the season it smelled like the inside of my son’s hockey gloves – if you have kids in hockey, I know you know that smell!

There are a number of life lessons that can be learned by examining the contents  of “said bag”.  I see the carrying device be it a purse/handbag/satchel/wallet/backpack  as a microcosm of the world of its owner.

You can tell a lot about a person by the size of their said carrying device. You can make all sorts of sweeping generalizations about a person based on the contents .  The objects that are chosen to tote around with her day after day will reveal (with the same 'eerie' reliability of a horoscope) the nature of who he or she really is.  

There tends to be two different types of carrying devices. First there is the small ones that hold the – the kind you need in a clutch – money, cards, pictures,  This type has all the little compartments. The carrying device has order, it has purpose, you look inside and everything has a place.  But there is always room for more! 

I asked my husband to get me his air miles card once in a while when my carrying device has been left at home.  He opens it up, and there it is: open the big part, then fold open the little part, then look 3 down on the right.  Exactly where it is supposed to be – in the Airmiles spot.  It never fails to amaze me.  Every time, the same place.  I tried once to mess with his mind and put it back in another spot – right there in the aisle of Safeway, I received a lesson that sound something like this: 

You put my card in the wrong spot

Oh, did I?

It has it’s own spot.

Oh, really?

When it is in it’s spot, I know where it is.

Well, you can still see it here, in this spot… Won’t this one do?

(sweat starting to form on his brow) No, it needs to go into it’s own spot

I’m sorry. 

I’m not sure what he thinks will happen if it goes into another spot – perhaps that it will inadvertently touch his master card and the two cards will book flights and hotel rooms using the air miles???

People with these types of carrying devices tend to get on my nerves.  They know exactly where everything is.    

My sister is one of these people.  She is so organized that there designated is a spot for the ticket from the parking lot dispenser. 

I find this particularly annoying because I am not an organized carrying device gal.   If you are not an “organized back pack” kind of person, then you may be more like me and the carrier of what I loving call the “comfy back pack bag”.  It sits in a lump.  You never know what treasures you might stumble upon next.  I love to clean it out at the Doctors office for 2 reasons: 1. I tend to have lots of time waiting and this is a legitimate way to pass time and 2. It’s really annoying to the “organized carrying device” person, who thinks that my back pack must carry the Flu virus, because everything else is in there….

Regardless of whether you carry an “organized receptacle” or a “slouch receptacle” a carrying device such as a back pack is a magical mystical place, a place which defies everything physicists have taught us about space and time.  A properly packed handbag can help you out in many situations. Occasionally, if you watch closely me during my lunch you may find me in search of the cell phone, you may see pause for a minute. If this is an “organized carry device”, then the phone is easily scooped out and answered by ring number 2.  That is because, when the phone rings, that person knows where to find it.  Because there is likely a “phone place”. 

I too have a phone pocket, but my phone is never in it.  I am not even sure why.  When I hear my phone ring I, almost never get to it.   This is what usually happens:

Slow motion:  a look of distress that crosses my face as I search for the “ring thing”  which is some place at the bottom of my bag .  By the time I find it, it has already gone to the answering machine.  I tend to get it just as it beeps at me.  I look at it and it says the same thing every time – missed call. (Have you ever wondered why electronics points out the obvious?  Just once, I would like my phone to blink at me and say – you look fabulous or enjoy the sun – no, it points out the obvious, missed call.)  I bet my sister doesn’t even know there is a little “missed call” light, because she never misses a call, because she is like the phone ninja when answering her phone.   I have missed the call and I know that in a few moments it will beep again letting me know that I now have a voicemail because by now the person is now listening to the voicemail message which says “I’m sorry, I missed your call, I have probably just found my phone at the bottom of my backpack and will call you back shortly, so please leave your phone number and I’ll get back to you…Oh and by the way, repeat your phone number at least twice, because by now I am searching for a pen and paper to write it on.   Thanks for calling…beeeep”.

Getting a deal on a backpack sends leads me to acting like an ADHD kid on Red Bull and a pound of chocolate. I like to look at them, feel them, hold them,  smell them -it’s really quite exhilarating.  I have many “make me feel good bags” rather than useful carry devices.  I have trouble throwing them out.  I have back packs for certain outfits and for certain moods. 

All my back packs have personality and purpose:– and I love to use this carrying device (Juicy Couture) when I am wearing jeans and going shopping with my daughters.  I feel young and hip and cool.  However, I have learned that you are immediately old when in a sentence you refer to yourself as “hip and cool”…  This carrying device makes me feel young – the end. This is my practically sized carrying device (Walmart Special) with a comfortable shoulder strap; it fits perfectly on the top of a travel suitcase with wheels or can easily be carried with my laptop inside.  It is both fashionable and practical.

I am going to share with you a few of the items that you will find in my carrying device and the 4 lessons that I think that anyone can take away working with children. Perhaps you can relate to your own work with children– be it a handbag, a purse, a back pack, a wallet, a diaper bag or even the coffee holders in your car.

I open this bag and we have a carrying device inside my carrying device.   How clever!

This brings me to Lesson #1 In the Back Pack of happiness:

The items: Family pictures, ID and Driver’s license.

Always remember what is most important. Never forget who you are or where you came from, or the lessons you have learned on your way that bring you to the place that you are today. The same can be said for the children with whom you work.  These children have someone in their family who loves them, they have a grandparent who adores them, they have dreams and aspirations for when they grow up.  Sometimes by the time these children get to you, they have been let down by someone they love so many times that they don’t know that you really mean you will help pick them up – for real.  You won’t give up when others have.  Making a connection with the children with whom you work is so important. 

The message:  Prioritize –  Put first things first  - remember that your laptop doesn’t hug back.  Work will be there tomorrow, but the same cannot always be said for the people.  You will never regret spending a little more time with the people whose pictures you carry in your wallet. Make a connection with the children with whom you work.  Completing curriculum is important, but it’s not hard to make connections that will go farther than you can ever imagine – a child may forget what you helped them learn – but they will never forget how you made them feel. Take time to smile, say good morning, have a nice day – and mean it.  It’s true, a smile goes a long long way.

Stay tuned for Lessons 2, 3 &4 in the coming days

Things that make me smile: Eleven Hints for Life

"Eleven Hints for Life"

It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return. But what is more painful is to love someone and never   find the courage to let that person know how you feel.

A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it wasnever meant to be and you just have to let go.

The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had. 

It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.

It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone - but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.

Don't go for looks, they can deceive. Don't go for wealth, even that fades away.  Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright.

Dream what you want to dream, go where you want to go, be what you want to be. Because you have only one life andone chance to do all the things you want to do.

Always put yourself in the other's shoes. If you feel that ithurts you, it probably hurts the person too.

A careless word may kindle strife. A cruel word may wreck a life. A timely word may level stress. But a loving word may heal and bless.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, ends witha tear. When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one smiling and everyone around you is crying.


Thank you Alishia Piazza for writing this.  
I hope you don't mind that I shared it.

Thinking about how Brock and I met - that's what makes me smile today

I have come to believe that there is no such thing as a “coincidence”.  We bring experiences into our lives or they happen to help us move on to the next experience.  I am not saying that when something “bad” happens that we have called that into our lives – it is a sad fact that bad things happen to good people.  However, I have been inspired lately by Brock, to put out more “good karma” than “bad” and to pay attention to what we are bringing into our lives by our words and actions.  This initial conversation with Brock was about envisioning what we want and then trusting in the Universe that it has heard and will grant all our “wishes”.   We had a wonderful evening talking about some of the events and things that we have “dreamed” into being.   For example, the mere fact that we met.

On the weekend just before our paths crossed, I wrote a mental list of all the things I was going to look for in a man.  He had to love kids and be willing to love mine.  He had to be from a family where the mom and dad loved each other so that he had a good role model on how this should look.  Preferably he would have no kids or crazy exes to complicated my life because my life was complicated enough.  I didn’t want a guy with any addictions or creepy hang-ups.  He would have to love camping and going to the lake.  He would have to be willing to treat me like a princess, because I deserved nothing less than Cinderella and the “Happily ever after”.  If he didn’t mind doing laundry that would be a bonus, but not a deal breaker. 

October 20, 1994 neither one of us was supposed to go out to the local pub for a drink.  He went to have a beer after work.  I went with a group of teachers after “meet the teacher” night.  Brock got into a cab and asked the driver to take him to any bar for a beer.  The driver chose Ernie O’s. (Coincidence or Divine intervention??)  When Brock walked in, he realized that it was cowboy night.  Every male in the establishment was wearing a cowboy hat and pointy boots.  The dance floor was filled with people two stepping to Brooks and Dunn and Hank Williams Junior.  Now, for those of you who know Brock, this should make you smile.  He was wearing his black leather jacket, ball cap and “biker” boots.  He is more the classic rock guy preferring, well almost anything, to country music.  After first thinking about leaving and going to a different bar, he decided to stay for one beer.  

Now, I had gone to the Legion for one beer.  All of my friends were going home except for one who was going to stop by Ernie O’s.  She was going to give me a ride home after she stopped in for just one quick spin on the dance floor (with a friend who was already there).

I wasn’t there for very long when I spied this very handsome guy sitting at the bar drinking a beer.  On cowboy night, I have to admit that he stuck out in his black leather jacket, boots and ball cap.  I watched him for a bit and made some quick assessments.  He was alone, no wedding ring a great smile and very handsome.  I noticed that he was showing all the usual signs of getting ready to leave including his beer was almost done and he was not ordering another one. I decided that I would go over and say hi.  What was I going to say?  I pondered this question as I made my way across the room.  By the time I got there, his back was turned and it looked like he was going to stand up.  I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around.  I gave him the only pick up line I could think of “Hi, is your name Joe?”  He looked at me and chuckled “No, why do I look like a Joe?”   The rest, as they say, is history. 

 

Brock says that he knew he that I was “the one” the moment that he looked into my eyes.  Four days later, he called his mom and told her that he met the girl he was going to marry.  Four months later, we were married in front of our family and a few friends in a small intimate wedding.  Eighteen years later we have experienced raising our three kids, welcoming one grandbaby, living in 4 different communities, the heartbreaking loss of several people we love, 17 summers of camping and going to the lake and I feel like a princess every day. 

I am really glad that I thought to put into the “Universal request” that it would be nice if “the one” would not mind doing laundry, because what a great bonus that has turned out to be!

The Tragedy of Highway 63 - When you grow up - What do you want to be?

I live at the end of a long highway in Northern Alberta. In the fall, it is lined with orange and gold leaves.  Trees for as far as the eye can see.  A lake and a house appear around a corner.  However, this same Highway 63 has been coined “The Highway to Hell”  which I take offense with.  It is the highway to my city, that I love!  However, you cannot deny that it has been a Highway filled with sorrow.   In the last 6 years, there have been 46 deaths on this highway.  A public outcry has ensued as the result of the 7 lives lost in the most recent head on collision.  A 2 year old, an 11 year old and an unborn child were amongst the victims.  I feel compelled to stand up and cry – to weep – to beg the adults to stop taking unnecessary risks – stop killing our children.

Here is the story I am going to tell at a public rally on Saturday May 5^th:

Each of you here has consciously made a choice to attend to this event.

I come to you today as a mother, grandmother, teacher and woman who has dedicated most of my adult life to the service of children.

The recent senseless deaths of the three children Faith, Benjamin and the precious child who had yet to be born– and for each and every child that has died on that highway….that is why I am here. 

Perhaps these stories will remind you of your own son or daughter, your grandchild or the kid you coach in soccer.  The stories I am going to tell are based on real stories. See if you can see the similarities to your life.  Could this be your child’s story?

We often ask our children: 

When you grow up, what would you like to be?

Do you know a child who is 17 years old? This year I will graduate.  Next year I am going to go to the University of Alberta.  I don’t know what I want to “do with my life” but I can’t wait to get out of Fort Mac. On a trip to the city to buy my grad dress I remember listening to music an singing loudly.  My mom was such a safe driver.   She followed the speed limit.  She never drove dangerously.  She did everything right.  She was the best mom. But now, I won’t graduate in June, because I will still be in rehab for the fractures in my spine.

I am a child who watched her mom being airlifted from the crash scene and later died in the hospital – she never had the chance to be my mom.

Are there any mothers out there?  Are you willing to write letters and hold your government accountable?

Do you know a child who is 14 years old?

I am very impressionable. I usually put up a fight when there is a family trip to Edmonton, because I don’t want to go, but I go because I have to.  I watch my dad weaving in and out of the cars on the highway.  I hear him swear under his breath when there is a line of vehicles behind a big semi.  That must be really frustrating.  My dad drives fast and we are in a big truck, so that’s OK.  I wish my dad could read into the future, because when I am 18 I will want to be “just like my dad”.  So on my first solo trip to Edmonton as a new driver, I tried all of the things my dad showed me.  How to weave in and out of traffic, where the cops are likely to be, how to pass 4 or 5 cars at a time. I thought I could drive like my dad, but I didn’t realize that I could not.

I am a child who could have been the one to cure cancer but when I am 18 I will be killed trying to be “just like my dad”– and never have the chance to be  -a grown man with a family of my own.

Are there any parents out there?  Are you willing to start this movement for a safer 63 by modeling safe driving habits for your kids to follow?

Do you know a child who is 10 years old?  Oh how I loved to dance.  When I twirl across the floor it feels like I can float.  I love dogs and cats and snakes are especially nice.  Some day, I am going to own a whole zoo. When I left Fort McMurray with my family heading for Edmonton, I wish I would have said goodbye to my friends.  I am going to miss my final dance recital. 

I am a child who will never know what it feels like to have my first kiss.  I will never have a first dance at my wedding. I will never be in a play on Broadway – because as the passenger on my way to a dance competition in Edmonton, I have been killed and I will never had the chance to be.

Are there any residents of Fort McMurray out there?  Are you willing to consciously drive with safety in mind so that our children will longer become statistics of those killed Highway 63?

What of a child who is six years old. Could this be the story he tells?

Oh, how I love my Grandpa. I think he might be my best friend.  I didn’t see him very much lately because he was working far away, but we talked almost every day.   My papa smells like the sweetest after shave and he has the softest hands ever.  My papa gives me chocolates before supper and takes me to the park where he swings me so high – I feel like I can fly.

I am a child who will never know what it is like to have a papa who spoils me and gives me the biggest hugs ever – because he was killed on the way to work and he never had the chance to be my papa.

Mayor Blake – Mr. Scott Mr. Allan, Premier Redford and all of the elected officials who are listening to us today.. Are you willing to keep the promises of a safer 63 you have made recently?

Perhaps you know a toddler, just two years old;

My daddy, he was the best daddy ever.

He used to smell like diesel and I used to run to the window to watch his big truck pull into the driveway.  He was gone for a few days and then he would come home.

Boy, that was so exciting.   When he would walk in the door just before bed time, I would run and hide under the blanket on the couch and he would come find me and when he did, he would lift me in the air and twirl me around.  He and my mommy would hug and kiss and he would tell me how much he missed me.

My daddy was killed going to work in Fort McMurray.  Every day I look at pictures of him on the fireplace and the wall.  My mommy cries all the time and nothing I can do or say seems to help. 

I am a child who will never know what it feels like to have my daddy cheer when I score my first goal, or drop me off for my first day of school – because he never had the chance to be.

To the media  – Are you willing to keep this story front page news, tweet, text, writing to keep all accountable so that not one of the lives lost on this highway will be forgotten in an effort that no further lives will be lost?

Could this be the story of your unborn child?

I was so excited to make my entrance into the world in just 3 more months.

My mommy used to sing me songs and rub my back as I rocked back and forth inside her belly.  My daddy’s big voice used to say “Hey baby, are you in there?” I would kick his hand away and he would hug my mommy tight. 

But now that my mommy and I have been killed, my grandma will no longer be able to tickle my toes; my grandpa won’t be able to take me fishing; I will never know the feel of my mommy’s sweet cheek or my daddy’s bristly whiskers. 

I am a child who will never know sunshine or rain – because I never had the chance to be.

If you believe, like I believe, that children are the future…then let me ask you:

What will our future be?

To each and everyone of you who are here today– Are you willing to write letters, attend rallys, respond to the polls, speak up to others who are driving like idiots and not drive like one yourself???

And Finally ladies and gentleman; what I am going to do?  What ever I can within my power – to ensure that each and every child traveling that stretch of road has the chance to be starting with speaking to you hear today.