Fifty Years, One Reason

When my mom came home from the hospital earlier this year, she was frustrated with her slow recovery. One night when I visited, she was in the den, looking at the computer and crying. My mother has always exuded strength, so the few times I've seen her cry have been devastating.

I asked her what was wrong and she told me she couldn't remember how the computer or any of the other technology worked. She felt dumb. Thankfully I was sitting because a sense of sadness and fear nearly knocked me over. Deep in my soul, I felt her frustration at realizing that her cognitive skills were impaired. It is literally my biggest fear (recognizing your own loss of cognizance with no power to stop it) and my mom was experiencing it in front of me. It still haunts me. It was one of the most heartbreaking things anyone has ever said to me. I always knew losing a parent would be hard, and I dread the moment it happens, but I never realized how difficult it would be just to see them getting old. Even though she had expressed to me many times in the hospital how much she loved and appreciated my Dad for being there (along with other family members and friends) in that moment, she seemed so alone. It really hit me that although the whole family was going through a tough time, she was the only one physically going through it.

So I did my best to let her know that she's not alone and that she's not dumb, she's just still recovering. Overcoming my own desire to curl up in a fetal position and cry, I told her she had come so far in a short time, and that considering how much she had been through, it was amazing she was even here.

She thanked me and then said something else that truly melted me. She said that when she was in the hospital, thinking of me and my brother gave her the will to live and was the only thing that got her through it all.

I've always felt loved by my parents. They have gone out of their way to support me my entire life. But until that moment, I don't think I ever realized how much my brother and I really mean to them. When she talked in the hospital, it was usually a mix of hallucinations and memories. The constant was that she talked about me and my brother. There was confusion some times (she often talked about me on the swim team, but that was Mike) but it was clear we were on her mind. She didn't simply love us, she lived for us.

When she came home, she improved a bit, only to relapse and go back into the hospital and nursing home for a couple weeks. There were a few days where she was almost completely unresponsive. I was sure that it was the end. And yet, her condition improved again, and she came home again. Since she came home that second time, she has continually gotten better and stronger. She is incredible. Her strength is unbelievable.

And yet, I don't know if she would've made it without my Dad. Thinking of me and my brother may have helped her get through emotionally, but my Dad has been the physical embodiment of love and support. I don't want to romanticize a very difficult time, because there were moments when they were both extremely frustrated and tired and upset, but I've learned more about love and family in this past year than my entire life.

My parents have been through a lot since they got married in 1968, and this past year, their 50th together, may have been the toughest. Many people say "I'd do anything for you," but how many really mean it. Will they go to the hospital or nursing home for hours every day, week after week? Will they help their partner go to the bathroom and eat and get dressed every day?

Through my parents, I have witnessed and felt real, deep, enduring love. Sometimes it's intimidating because I don't know if I'm capable of it; at the same time, it is illuminating and inspiring. I'm lucky to have an amazing partner in my life and I can only aspire to give her as much love and support as my parents have given to me and to each other. 

Last year around this time my mom was getting surgery on her spine. She was still walking then. At the time, I couldn't help but focus on the unpleasant possibilities. I was scared and knew it would be a tough recovery. I had no idea how rough it would get. She hasn't walked since. 

6 months later, when I wrote A Coma for Christmas, I was even deeper into negative thoughts. However, seeing my mom fighting to recover forced me to overcome that negativity. I tried to end the poem on somewhat of a positive note; I thought if I put it out in the public, maybe it would sink in privately. I honestly didn't share the subdued optimism that I expressed in the poem. In fact, I was hesitant to publish it because I thought it was too hopeful and I was sure something horrible was going to happen once I pressed the "Publish" button. And then a few weeks later she was back in the hospital and I took it as proof that I should never have any optimism whatsoever.

But she's still here. She's still her. And for half a century, my Dad has been the rock beside her.  

One of my tattoos states "The struggle is the blessing." It's not always easy to remember that, but it's a vital truth. Life is struggle. It's amazing anybody gets through the day. But this life is all we have, and we need to find a reason to keep fighting, to keep struggling. 

My parents have shown me that love is the most powerful reason.

Happy 50th Anniversary Mom and Dad. Your love is one for the ages. Thank you. I love you.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Ten Years Gone (Holding On)

I've been working at Pathways/Senderos for 10 years. Before working there, I had never been at a job for longer than 2 years. It's the best youth program I've ever come across, and I'm proud to be a part of it.

Me, 2008

This is Pathways 25th year. It's rather incredible that a small non-profit in New Britain has lasted so long, especially considering the state budget cuts over the last few years. It's a testament to the staff, the board, and the program's methodology. If our program didn't work, we would never receive the support we do from the community and from funders. Good programs lose funding and disappear all the time, though, so our board and staff deserve a lot of credit for the work they put in.

I wrote about the Founder of Pathways, my former boss Roseanne, when she passed away last year. She built the program from the ground up and received national recognition for her work. She laid the groundwork for the agency and to this day we are still benefiting from a lot of what she did.

When she left, it would have been very easy (and common) for the agency to collapse. Many folks were worried that we wouldn't survive.

Thankfully, the people who had worked so hard to get the program to its high level of success continued to do the same when she retired. Staff and volunteers provided guidance and assistance to students, and the board of directors ensured that staff members had the support needed to move forward and determine the future direction of the program. Most importantly, the two staff members (Nick and Heather) who had been at the agency the longest, and who were personally selected to secede Roseanne, worked harder than ever in their new roles of Co-Executive Directors to provide the same level of service to our boys and girls.

There were certainly difficulties. Receiving less funding every year because of state budget cuts hasn't helped, yet we have managed to find other funding by diversifying our donor base. Even though we haven't been able to take as many field trips or buy as much food for students, we are structurally and financially secure. We are collaborating with more programs and agencies throughout the city and expanding our impact even further.

When Nick and Heather took over as Directors, we had to pull off a 20th Anniversary Gala that was more than halfway through the planning stages. It could've gone horribly wrong, which would've been extremely embarrassing, since legislators, community agencies, alumni, funders, and our supporters had already RSVP'd.

However, it went incredibly well. We raised money, celebrated our successes, and reassured people that the agency was going to be just fine.

The night of the Gala, UConn was playing in the NCAA tournament, and we had the game on. This was the year Shabazz Napier was a Senior and Kevin Ollie had taken over as coach for Jim Calhoun. UConn had been suspended the year before, a lot of players left once Calhoun was out, and the future of UConn basketball was looking abysmal; yet Ollie and Napier silenced all doubters and won the title. After it happened, I was going to write a blog post about how Heather and Nick were like Ollie, successfully taking over a historic franchise from a well-known, accomplished leader. At the time it was a great metaphor; it would've been one of my best posts! But considering recent happenings with the UConn Men's basketball team and Kevin Ollie, I'm glad I didn't write it. The metaphor didn't really hold up because UConn Men's basketball is failing miserably and we've just gotten better and better.

It's safe to say that Pathways is in good hands. Since our 20th Anniversary, we have continued to see the same success; in fact, more of our graduates are going to (and completing) college. We recently held a 25th Anniversary, which was even better than the 20th.

We love what we do. More than ever, the program is a manifestation of that love. It helps that I work with one of my best friends, and I think our friendship greatly affects the program (how it is run, the atmosphere at the Center). It also helps that all of our staff members care about the program, the kids, and each other.
We call the Center a "parallel family" for a reason; we're not just a building where kids hang out after school. We are another family for these kids, sometimes the only one they have. Our family includes our staff, our kids, volunteers, board members, and graduates. It is an expansive support system for everyone involved and it goes well beyond academic assistance and sex education.

We always tout our stats (100% high school graduation, 80% go on to higher education, 94% working, etc.) because they are great, but there's much more behind the numbers. All of us, from staff to board to volunteers, have made meaningful, lifelong connections with many of our participants throughout the years. I'm a former student's Godfather! Technically, Confirmation Sponsor but still.

I have been extremely lucky to work at Pathways for so long. No matter how long I'm here, I want the program to continue on forever. I'm proud to say that we run an agency that  has been proven to help children succeed in school, careers, and life in general. The work that we have done has created a foundation that can and should be sustained and replicated for as long as children need support and guidance.

Me with my Pathways Family at our 25th Anniversary, 2018

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.