Random Acts and Kindness

Caitlin was born 32 years ago today.  She only got to celebrate 17 birthdays though.  I'm sure you're aware of that if you've ever spent any time here.  And, if you haven't, well, you see, it's like this.  

Caitlin was killed by a drunk driver in May of 2003.  The crash was on the 22nd and she died from her injuries on the 24th.  The next year we started a 5k walk to raise funds for a scholarship in Caitlin's memory and we kept that going for 10 years.  

In the course of those 10 years, the emotional train that ran roughshod through our family took Diane too, from a massive heart attack.  

Which prolonged the train ride for those of us left behind.  

But, as with most things, the more you do a thing, the more you learn what to do.  And, for that matter, what not to do.  There's no timetable on that however.  It's still very much a learn as you go kind of thing.  But the natural repetition of life allows us to handle most Caitlin/Diane related scenarios fairly smoothly.  Outwardly at least.  See the title of this blog for clarity.  

I wish I could remember a story from one of Caitlin's birthdays to relate here.  Instead, thinking about the title for this post, and the randomness of the events that led us to this point, I'll tell you about the immediate impact of that random act.

As we walked into her room in the NICU, the first glimpse of Caitlin took my breath away.  That image is one of the things from this time that is indelibly burned into my brain.  She looked so tiny in the huge bed.  Her arms were bundled up in huge rolls of gauze and she was propped up by pillows under both arms and legs.  Her face was bruised, swollen and distorted.  She had tubes and wires everywhere.  She was on a ventilator.  She had a broken femur in her left leg and a broken tibia in her right leg.  She had a broken humerus in her left arm and a broken ulna in her right arm.  She had a fractured pelvis.  A lacerated liver, a ruptured spleen and contusions on her heart, lungs and brain.  Even though she hadn’t regained consciousness since the crash, they had her in a medically induced coma because they were already concerned about the bruising on her brain.  The doctors were concerned that the swelling of her brain, left unchecked, would increase pressure on her brain and reduce blood flow to and oxygen supply for her brain.  The brain is surrounded by cerebrospinal fluid.  Among other things, it acts as a cushion for the brain so if, for example, you hit your head against something, your brain won’t smash against the inside of your skull causing even more damage.  Typically, at rest, the pressure in your brain is measured in the low teens.  Caitlin’s intracranial pressure (ICP) was already in the low 20’s and, despite the best efforts of the doctors, it showed no signs of slowing down.

Diane sobbed as we walked up to Caitlin’s bedside.  The nurse was speaking to us, explaining everything we were looking at, but I don’t think either of us heard a word she said.  

It was hardly the first time I’d seen something like this.  In my job, it’s not unusual to be on the scene of a crash like the one Caitlin was in, a crash that results in multi-system trauma.  It’s also not uncommon to be passing through the Emergency Department and see someone with the types of injuries Caitlin sustained.  The problem came in, for me, because very early in my career I learned to de-personalize the things I saw.  I learned how potentially easy it was to assign the personality traits or the physical characteristics of a family member to many of the emergency situations I would encounter.  And how unsettling it would be to me unless I removed every bit of emotion from what I needed to do.  So that’s what I always did.  Not this time though.  This, this was so different from anything I’d ever known.  I couldn’t possibly de-personalize this.  Not that I ever wanted to.  I mean, for crying out loud, this was Caitlin lying there, broken and bruised.  This hurt like nothing I’d ever known before.  And I know it was a hundred times worse for Diane.  

A thousand times worse.  

A million times worse.

How could it not be?  I think the bond between mother and child is probably the strongest human connection.  At least in most cases.  And the bond between Diane and her girls was always strong.  Sure they had their differences, who doesn’t?  But they genuinely enjoyed the company of each other in any number of different settings.  True, most that I’ve mentioned revolved around shopping, but to leave it at that is an oversimplification and it does a great disservice to them.

So, because I don't want your takeaway to this post to be all sobby and sniffly and teary eyed I thought I'd follow up that part of Caitlin's too short life with this part.

As with so many stories involving Diane and the girls, this one took place one day while I was at work.  It was a little before Mother’s Day 2002.  Caitlin and Diane had spent the entire day, a Saturday, cleaning the townhouse we lived in at the time, cleaned it from top to bottom.  After they finished, they were taking a break and Caitlin came up to Diane, put her arm around her and said -

“Mom, we worked hard today.”

Diane said “Yes we did.”

“We should do something nice for ourselves.”

Diane looked at her.

Caitlin said “Mom, let’s go get our belly buttons pierced.”

“Are you crazy? I’m 47 years old, I’m not going to get my belly button pierced!”

“No, really Mom, let’s go.  It’ll be a bonding thing.  It’ll be my Mother’s Day gift to you.”

Sigh “Ok, but don’t ever tell Grandma.”

I’ve got so many stories like that, of things Diane did with one or both of her girls, they were very close.  So when Diane described a “Caitlin-sized hole in her heart” I believed her.  I just didn’t realize at that time how close to reality that description was.

So, as we try and mark today in Caitlin's honor, using an idea ignited by the Oldest One (soon to be even older...) I want to ask you to join in.  See, Random Acts of Kindness is something we do now in Caitlin's memory.  Do something nice for someone at random. If you choose to do it anonymously, that's fine.  If you choose not to, tell the person it's to honor an amazing, young, woman taken too soon by a drunk driver.  

Help us turn a horrible random act into a beautiful one.

Happy birthday kiddo.

I love you.

Peace

Learning Has Occurred.

Today came about pretty spontaneously.  Well, today didn't.  It was going to happen whether any of us wanted it to or not.  I guess I should say that this post came about all on its lonesome due to the actions of a plucky few.

Allow me to explain.  Trust me, it'll go a lot easier if you do...

As it turns out, I'm working in the high-rise district today, on a trade so I can go to the aforementioned Wilco show tomorrow night in Rockford.  As a result, I'm working mostly with guys I don't normally work with.  Except for one, Mike, who is also in on a trade.  This means I don't necessarily know the habits (quirks?) of the guys here today.

As we sat around the kitchen table this morning figuring out who was doing what and looking at how our day might shake out, there was a little discussion (as is typical) about (and, I might add, vitally important) meals.  The guys on Fightin' Medic 3, sorry, old habits die hard, Fightin' Medic 103, were tasked with meals which, of course, includes shopping for same.

Now, we have the good fortune of having multiple options for groceries in our still district.  We have, in no particular order; Angelo Caputo's, Trader Joe's and Jewel.  That's kind of nice from a shopping perspective, but there is a point or two I'd like to make here.

Eventually.

If you come by here at all, you've probably seen one or more of my rants on life around the firehouse, including what unionism has done to make things better in our jobs.  I take that seriously, far more seriously now than I did back in the day.  Back when I was too ignorant to heed good advice from my local's union leaders.  And that's one of the many reasons I spend as much time as I do preaching the positive aspects of unionism to the young guys around here now.  Kind of a "learn from my mistakes"  lesson.

But if you ask me, and, frankly, even if you don't, I'll tell you that I believe good union members don't look out only for the best interests of themselves and their coworkers.  Good union members look out for the best interests of union members everywhere.  And, indirectly, the best interests of everyone else in a "rising tide lifts all boats" kind of way.

So what do I mean?  I mean, if you're going to call yourself a good union member, spend your money in union shops whenever possible.  If you need a new car, buy one that's made by United Auto Workers members instead of something that was shipped here from overseas.  Need some electrical work done in your house?  Hire a member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers.  And if you're buying groceries, patronize a United Food and Commercial Workers store.

Like, in the greater Chicagoland area, a Jewel store for instance.

I didn't make a point of mentioning this to the guys before they left.  Again, I don't have to say it to the guys I usually work with, they get it.  And, with rare (very rare) exception, they spend our money at the Jewels.  So, as I sat in the bubble this morning (the best spot in any of our firehouses to sit and think btw) contemplating what I would say to (and write about, because obvs) the fellas when they got back, you can imagine my delight when they rolled back to the station carrying...

Yup.  Jewels bags.

Go on, take a second and imagine my delight.

Cause let me tell you, my delight was significant.  And I pointed that out to them.  I was (still am) proud that they chose so wisely.  Of course, Al admitted to me that thinking about the earful I'd have given them had they not gone to the Jewels was what kept him on the straight and narrow.  Hey, any port in the storm, amirite?

I fully recognize people sometimes will overlook, innocently, what should be an easy choice.  I recognize that sometimes people will, unknowingly, make a non-union choice.  I also know that sometimes people, like my friend Erick (I haven't figured out if the "c" or the "k" is redundant, but one of them is), will make a deliberate choice of non-union brewed adult beverage for the sole purpose of getting me spun up for his own amusement.  But that's a story for another day.

So what am I getting at here?  In brief (Ok, the "brief" ship has long since sailed) I want to remind my brother and sister union members (and anyone else willing to listen) that we owe a lot to our unions.  In many cases the roof over our head, the clothes on our back, the food in our kids belly, etc. These wages, work conditions, benefits, et al were not given to us out of the generosity of our employers, they were fought for by our unions.  We should be proud of our unionism.  We should support our unionism.  And, if we want others to support us, we should recognize other union members need our support too.  When union jobs are lost; say, because we want to save a few pennies by shopping at a cheap, non-union store, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Brotherhood is more than just a word.  It's a way of life.

At least it should be.

Peace

PS.  Can I just give one more tip of the hat to Al and Nate?  Not only did they shop Jewels, they brought back some chocolate chip and some double chocolate cookies.  And as we all know, cookies are good for the soul.

There, Their, They're; Let's Play Fun With Words

As I was driving over to the coffeehouse this morning, I saw something that I see often and almost always prompts the same response from me; muttering under my breath (not really) about (I mean, I was muttering but it was out loud) the quality of the education the bearer received.  Perhaps you've seen this too.  A car with either a window sticker or bumper sticker or, as was the case this morning, a license plate holder proclaiming there was an "alumni" of some institution of higher learning inside.  I've got news for you Mr./Ms. college graduate... unless there are two or more of you in the vehicle, or, possibly, if you're schizophrenic, you are NOT an "alumni" of any school.  What you ARE is, in fact, an "alumnus".

Look it up.

Here for instance.

You're welcome.

As I said above, this is not an isolated incident.  I can only recall one time off the top of my head where I noticed one of those things and thought to myself "Oh look!  Someone that gets it!"  Whereas I've seen, literally, hundreds of them with the wrong use of the word.

The things that occupy my mind...

I've gotten to the point where I completely disregard anything on social media until I proofread it.  You want to get your point across to me?  Spell shit correctly.  And I'm not talking about the occasional typo.  Everyone makes them, I know I do.  If I catch a mistake after I post something I almost always edit it and send it back out.  Here too.  And it still happens.  I typically proofread these at least twice before I hit the publish button and I still miss stuff.  I know that because I sometimes reread old posts.  And seeing my own errors makes me twitchy.

And fwiw, it's not "I could of done that" it's "I could have done that".  Jesus people, check out a book once in a while, would you?

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, let me tell you about my week.  Wednesday night I'm going with my friend Tom to see Wilco play a show in Rockford.  Needless to say, I'm stoked.  Plus there are few people on the planet I'd rather see a concert with than Tom.  So there's that.

Next, Thursday is (or should be) Caitlin's 32nd birthday.  A bittersweet day, as so many of them are.  A day like this can't go by without wondering, in the words of Kenny Chesney "Who You'd Be Today" and that usually being accompanied by a tear or two.  I may write more about her on Thursday, I haven't decided yet.  There's so much to write, and to think about.  14 years down the road how can you not wonder what would be?

We stopped doing The Walk in 2013, after 10 years of raising money for her scholarship.  After that, the Oldest One decided she wanted to do something more to continue Caitlin's presence among people that never knew her.  So she started Random Acts of Kindness for Caitlin as a way of doing that.  It's a wonderful way to commemorate her too short life and I heartily recommend it.  You can do a search on Facebook to find her page and participate.  Or, of course, you can just do something nice for some random, unknown person on Caitlin's behalf.

Speaking of the Oldest One, Friday is her birthday.  And, while I don't want to put her age out there on the interwebz, let me just say that, Ellie was 39 for as far back as I can remember.  And I'm not even joking.  I don't recall a time when, if asked her age, my Mom would reply with any answer other than "39 years old".  To the point that when my oldest nieces were younger, they couldn't understand how Gram was younger than their mother...

So, since I'm not going to put OO's actual age up on here, I will point out that she'll soon be older than Ellie.  Which, while making me chuckle a little also fills me with no small amount of dread since, you know, I'm her father and, by default, significantly older.

Insert wide eyed emoji >here<

Peace