Greater than I

There is a quote, we all "misquote". The rendition of the quote I know is,

I think most of us know this quote.

While at the memorial service for Cole last week, Father Patrick brought this quote into his sermon.

This a Catholic Priest. I'm paraphrasing here, but, what I remember him saying:

People misuse this quote (after he had said the quote). Then he says, it's not true. If God were NOT to give you something you can't handle - there would be no suicides. God gives me things everyday I can't handle.

Father Patrick then continues on:

He may give ME something I can't handle. BUT, he won't give US - the community, this group of people, etc. Something WE can't handle.

Father Patrick had another great story relating a biblical tale to us the next day at the Mass funeral service.

Cole was here to remind us there are things greater than I.

Community

com·mu·ni·ty

kəˈmyo͞onədē/

noun

1. 1.

   a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.

   "Rhode Island's Japanese community"

   synonyms:

   group, body, set, circle, clique, faction;
2. 2.

   a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.

   "the sense of community"

I'm all about community. Always have been. Always will be.

I've said for years, it's my "tribe" who has gotten me through my life. I wouldn't be where I am today, without the community who helped get me here.

One group, got me to the next.

I've known for years, my neighborhood has been special. Sometimes almost too much.

In my group, you know each other well - you are not in everyone's business. You are though in everyone's life.

The school (Slavens) my kids attended is a neighborhood school. K-8. Public School. Only 50 kids PER GRADE. I've often referred to it as the "public/private school". You find your tribe. I found mine.

Or rather,

The tribe found me.

This has been a harrowing week in the community. A loss that hit way too close too home. Every time I've said or written that statement, I've had to retract it. This one didn't hit CLOSE to home.

It HIT home.

And, you know what - if this had been my own - instead of "one of my own", I could think of no better group of people to take care of me.

Watch out Denver, we are about to "go all Slavens on you."

Downhill from there

Sunday night at 11:30 pm. I receive a text from my youngest.

I'm in the police paddy wagon headed downtown. You need to come pick me up.

I respond

Is this for real? How do you still have your phone?

Long story short. He was out after curfew. I thought city curfew for teenagers was midnight. Apparently on weeknights, it's 11pm.

No handcuffs. No fines. They got to keep their phones.

We do have to go to a class on "diversions" to keep teenagers from getting into gangs. There were no fines, tickets, etc.

We got home about 1:30 am Monday morning.

My week went downhill from there.

I normally have these kinda weeks in February.

Where's Patrick?

There is a picture that was on my fridge for years. (It's in the family room now).

It was the cast of the TV show Sponge Bob Square pants at Universal Studios in California. Plus DN and the daughter of my friend in California. The kids look like rug rats. I think they were 7,8 & 9 ((respectively)

It's a great picture. M always says "one of our best pictures ever." In fact, every picture is compared to this one. "Not quite as good as the Sponge Bob picture". "Maybe second best to the Sponge Bob picture."

There is family down the street with the oldest being the same age as D. The youngest 4 years younger.

We would trade off bringing the kids home from school. Sometimes, we'd all have dinner together.

What I remember most about those "after school moments":

Every Tuesday, when the other kids would come to my house, one of the first things the younger child "C" would say: Ms. McIntosh, where is Patrick?

Patrick Starfish is a character in Sponge Bob. He was missing from the picture.

This went on for months.

Ms. McIntosh, where is Patrick?

I don't know. Was always my response.

Finally, months into our conversation, I finally replied:

He was sleeping that day. We didn't get our picture with him.

That was it. That answered satisfied his curiosity. He never asked me again about Patrick.


Flash forward: I met a guy named Patrick. Charming. Good looking. A million other things I could go on to describe.

I called C's mom, down the street.

Will you tell Cole, I found Patrick?

There was a car accident yesterday. An 82 year old woman was driving her car. We still don't know if she had a stroke, a mini heart attack or what.

She hit two teenagers on their bikes/skateboards.

It was in my neighborhood. An accident. It could have been my kid. It could have been me.

Monday, I had been on my bike and there were some boys on their skateboards/bikes with Slurpees riding down the street. After all, It was 7-11.

Cole was on his bike and waved to me.

Cole - I found Patrick.

Thank you for the inspiration.

Rest in Peace.

Fourth of July

For the first time in 8 years, I was in Denver, Colorado for the 4th of July.

24 years ago 4th of July, I arrived in Denver for the first time. While I've lived in Colorado ever since (except those 9 months in California) then, I haven't celebrated the 4th actually here in Denver.

The 4th marked another monumental day in my life.

I've now lived in Colorado longer than I lived in Texas.

I remember driving here all those years ago with my mom. She flew back on July 5th to Texas. That moment seems so long ago.

It also seems like yesterday.

I remember (and I might have told this story before) getting to the state line. We stopped. We took a picture of me in front of the "Welcome to Colorado" sign. I remember crying.

My mom said, "we can turn around."

I remember saying, "That's not why I'm crying.".........

After all, it's independence day.

Accosted

I had something interesting happen tonight and wanted to know if anyone else had something like this happen. A) if I could have handled differently? B) was I wrong?

There was a restaurant opening in Cherry Creek area of Denver. (high end area of Denver). Upscale steak house opening. The open house was 5- 7. Granted, it was crowded. It was loud – but you didn’t have to shout to talk to the person next to you.

Ambrose was AWESOME! He was right at my side. Was in down position – still working on him curling up. 99.9% of the people were great. Thanked me. Complimented him, etc.

It was getting a bit much, even for me. We went and stood near the front door. Off the main entrance, off the bar area. It was NOT crowded where we were.

This man comes up to me and says “How old is he?” I replied, “10 months, he’s in training.” He replied, “My wife is a vet and you are abusing this dog. This noise level is bad for his ears.”

I looked at him in complete shock! I said very nicely, “I appreciate your concern, but he needs to go to a variety of places as he will be assisting someone in all types of different environments.”

He then goes off: you are damaging his ears. AND – keeps going.

He walks off. (Apparently, he goes over to the hostess stand and asks them if they will make me leave since I’m “Abusing” the dog). (I didn’t find this part out until after the next part.)

He comes back.

He walks up and asks what organization in which I’m associated. I told him CCI. He then told me he was taking pictures and recording the noise level in the restaurant and would be calling them to let them know.

I asked him his name. He wouldn’t tell me. He asked me why I needed to know.

I then said, “So, if I were in a wheelchair and this was my service dog, helping me, you are telling me, I shouldn’t be allowed to come?”

He replies with “you are abusing this dog. Just because you want to be here doesn’t mean you have to torture your dog.”

I then say, “So, if I were in a wheelchair and this was my service dog, helping me, you are telling me, I shouldn’t be allowed to come?”  Again, in a normal voice.

I asked his name again. Still wouldn’t tell me.

He then starts taking pictures of us, telling me he’s calling “THIS ORGANIZATION”.

At this point, I reach to grab his phone – in which he tells me, “you can’t touch my phone.” I replied, “And, YOU don’t have my permission to use my picture.”

The hostess see this happen (we are by the front door) and escort him out of the restaurant.

The hostess apologized PROFUSELY!! I was SHAKING. I can’t even imagine if he was truly in service for me and this person had approached me.

Other than that one moment, people have been SOOOOO wonderful and gracious.

Oh and that other moment when Ambrose figured out how to take remote controls from the table……

Happy Independence Day……. My favorite holiday ever…..

Take it from me, pass it by

High roads. Low roads.

We have millions of miles across these great United States. In the last three weeks, I've driven over 3600 miles.

I was able to check off four states - four states, in the "I've never been there before" states.

Absolutely. You - everyone, should go see our wonderful United States of America. All of them.

During Phase I of the road trip, I was in Idaho and Montana. Two states I've never visited.

Phase II: Alabama and Mississippi.

As much as I've been restless in my life. As much as I've been bored. There is something to be said for where I live now.

I arrive back home in Denver, Colorado. Friends were gathering at a backyard cocktail party.

I pulled out of the parking lot at Denver International Airport, and all I could think was:

GOD BLESS AMERICA

This is the BEST city in the WHOLE world. It was 79 degrees, I took the top off the car. I swear to you, I wanted to stand up and sing.

If I EVER complain about this city again, everyone has permission to tell me: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

What a beautiful city.

Sometimes, we go searching for things. Sometimes, we shut those things down. Sometimes, we are offered cities to visit and we have to say: No Thanks.

Or we go.

And explore.

Then we come home. To the place where we were supposed to be all along.

Sometimes we say to ourselves: Did you find me, while you were looking for yourself out there?

Not you.

Me.

Sometimes, we catch a glimpse of an alternative universe.

How it would have turned out, if you had made a different choice.

Take it from me, pass it by.