An Army travels on it's stomach... or something.

Well, I started jotting down notes on today this morning and "somebody" forgot to save them.  It was really good too, probably the best stuff I've ever written.  In my entire life.  

Not really.

Besides the day took kind of a turn anyway.  More on that later.

For starters, we got on the road around 6:30 this morning, which allowed us to take the scenic (no snark here, it's really beautiful) drive up Illinois Route 2 from Dixon (still the boyhood home of the worst president ever) to Rockford.  

Once we got into town, we dropped the vehicles off at one of the firehouses and went over to a wonderful restaurant called the Stockholm Inn.  We were treated to breakfast (emphasis on treated, this place is amazing) by the Rockford FD and we all loved it.  

Let me just go on record here and say I love maple syrup.  I mean, appropriately, of course. I don't put it on everything, only pancakes or french toast, but I typically will not waver when presented with choices from the world of syrup.  

Stockholm Inn blows that little foible of mine out. of. the. water.  Let me just say one word to you.

Lingonberries.

If you've never experienced them on pancakes, you're cheating yourself.  And your stomach.  Besides, it's a Swedish restaurant, and as the old saying goes, when in Sweden, do as the Swedes do.  I think that's how it goes anyway.

Speaking of which, lest you think my stomach is the primary organ that moves me, let me tell you a little about my heart.

It broke a little today.

After breakfast, we were escorted to Swedish American Hospital Cancer Center for a static display.  A really great parade that included about 20 motorcycles, a couple cars from the Rockford PD, truck 5 and a chief officer from Rockford FD and the local chapter of PH (shout out to Marcy Johnson and her people!) led us to Swede's for the event.  There was a pretty good crowd there and we were very well received.

We also had two home visits set for the day.

I want to tell you about the second one.

As we were driving in to town this morning, Marcy called to tell me that the woman we were supposed to visit this afternoon had passed away last Friday.  The family asked if we would still stop by however, as this was something Susie was really looking forward to.  Well, of course we would.  I got on the radio and told Don, Sean, Ray and Mike what had happened.  This stop just sounded like the kind of thing that, if we hadn't known about it beforehand would have been very difficult for us to deal with emotionally.  

I don't care why you take part in something like what we do, if you're not emotionally invested, you won't last because it just isn't for you.  Having said that, if you let your emotions get the best of you every time, you won't make it either.  You'll be too much of a wreck to function.

So by giving ourselves a little heads up, we can prevent losing it in front of everyone.

As we pulled onto the street, I saw a crowd of people and announced it to the guys.  

I had no idea how big it was.

There had to have been, literally, 200 people out on the street and in the front yards of several homes.

We got out and gathered together and met Mike and his kids.  I shot a little video for the PH page and took my place in line to hug them.  I said something to Mike and his kids about how there were thousands of people they had never and would never meet sending them strength and love and to please keep that in mind over the days and weeks ahead.  

And we moved to the side so everyone in the convoy could hug them.  I asked one of the guys if he had a marker, trying to focus on the task at hand, and he had one.  He handed it to me.  I could see in his face the emotion was getting to him.  So I took the marker from him.  And as I started to tell the guys what we would be doing next, I heard my voice break.

And I felt a tear well up in my eyes.  

Just like now, as I write this.

I did my best to recompose myself.

Just like now, as I write this.

And we moved to Mike and his kids to escort them to the trucks so they could sign.  Don moved up and walked with Mike, our Mikey walked with the daughter and I walked with the son.  I told them that right now these trucks aren't ours, they belong to them and to take as long as they like to write as much or as little as they wanted to, to memorialize their Mom.  

As I stood back and watched over the daughter's shoulder while she wrote, I had to fight back the tears.  

I lost.

But I did my best to pull myself together and, I think, pulled it off.  

As Mike and his kids were pulled in another direction, for more pictures and hugs from friends and neighbors I had a chance to reflect on August of 2006 and I knew I wanted an opportunity to speak to Mike alone, away from the crowd, to try and share some of what I learned with him.  

As this was all spinning around my brain, someone came up to me and asked if they could buy some t-shirts from us.  They appreciated what we were doing for the family and wanted to thank us.  I told them we'd be happy to help them, but that the family comes first and until they're taken care of, until we've done everything we can do for them at this visit, we won't sell shirts.  

I found Mike, and as he finished with a photo op, I asked him if I could speak to him for a minute and took him to the bus.  I wanted the chance to speak to him uninterrupted and this was it.  

I sat down with him and told him that I had lost my wife nine years ago.  The circumstance was different, but that I'd learned a few things about grief and I wanted to share my thoughts with him.  I told him to make sure and take time for himself, that even though he needed to be strong for his kids, he needed to let his own feelings out from time to time.  I told him too, that in my opinion, grief was a lot like being a recovering alcoholic and to take one step at a time.  And I told him to never let someone tell him there was a finite time to grieve.  

About this time his kids came on the bus and joined us.  I told them that in the years I had been traveling with Pink Heals I had done hundreds of these home visits and that this was, by far, the biggest crowd I had ever experienced.  I told them that it was a testament to the love and respect everyone had for them and for their Mom.  That brought a brief smile to their faces.

After they left the bus, we opened it up for anyone that wanted to get a shirt or hat.  I decided to sell from inside the bus rather than set up the tables.  We've done that before, if the crowd is going to be smallish it's easier this way.  

Sean rang up the purchases, I pulled stock and Ray acted as the doorman since the bus gets crowded quickly.  We were in there for over an hour.  

I've never seen anything like it.

I think we sold more stuff at this home visit than we did at our display.  

I was stunned.  

I think now, almost four hours after we left Mike and his kids, I'm finally coming to terms with my emotions.  This one hit me and it hit me hard.  

And that's ok.

Peace.

PS.  kudos to the Oldest One and the Heir to the Throne.  They came out today to see us at Swede's and ended up going on the home visits with us.  And they did great.  I'm very proud of them both and I'm so fortunate to have them.  I always say I feel like my life has been blessed, no matter the adversity we may have faced and today reinforced that.

Again, Peace.

Day 3 (Did I mention I love this stuff?)

What a day. 

We left Rockford this morning, around 7:00 AM headed north.  We crossed the Cheddar Curtain into Wisconsin "HELLO WISCONSIN!" (I always wanted to do that) and got escorted by highway patrol and a motorcycle club all the way into Mukwonago (common spelling) where we gathered more bikers and meandered along through the countryside until we finally got to Delafield at around noon.  As we pulled into town on the main street (not Main Street, but the main street, there's a difference oddly enough), we were met by people on both sides of the street cheering and clapping for us.  It was quite the reception.  And if I can get a little bandwidth I'll upload the pictures...

Moving right along.

We settled in briefly at a street fair type event.  John from OK and I put on the pink turnout gear and worked our magic on the crowd.

What can I say, I've been taught well.

After 45 minutes or so, two of the trucks, Me in Tonya and John in Leslie, went off to do some hospital visits.  My first stop was at an assisted living facility and the little old ladies there loved me, if I do say so myself.  I met Mae, Joan, Betty and several others, all of them very sweet.  And to steal a line from the Chick Magnet, they all dug me.  And again, if my bandwidth issues resolve I'll post photos...

But apparently photos tonight are not meant to be, sigh.

Wait, this just in... TAH DAH!!!

Joan was kind of a rascal...

Anyway.

From the assisted living place, we went to Oconomowoc (Chippewa for "there's trees everywhere") Medical Center for a brief appearance at their Cancer Center.  There I met several nice people and had a lovely piece of chocolate cake.  Actually two but who's counting.  Had my picture taken with various hospital type dignitaries and met a young lady who, when I told her I worked in Downers Grove said, and I quote "AAAHHHHHHH I"M FROM THERE!!!!!"  She grew up around 75th and Fairview (Darien, technically but hey) and thought it was very cool I was from there.  Did I mention I had a lovely piece of chocolate cake?  Well, two, but you know...

Drove back to Delafield, watched Flight for Life entertain for a bit, then repositioned and chatted with a few random survivors, had them sign Tonya and eventually rejoined the rest of the guys at the street fair.  I hate to repeat myself, but I just can't get over how nice the people here have been.  I had several people come by, both survivors and folks that wanted to sign in memory of someone, and I did my best to accomodate them.  One of the young girls that came by when John and I were dressed up earlier (see above ^^^) came back with a friend of hers and we had a really nice chat.  I told them all about going on tour and explained to them my theory on the way people should sign.  Which is...

I feel like these trucks are incredibly important to the people that get the chance to see them.  I don't feel the space on them should be wasted.  In my opinion, the people that sign should realize the importance of what they do and the impact it can have.  So I tell people-
"when I give you this pen, you'll become a nationally recognized author, because these trucks travel all over the country.  So three weeks from now, when they're in California or where ever they may be, some person is going to be looking at it.  Maybe they're having a really hard day, chemo is kicking their butt, they're losing their hair, or any multitude of reasons.  But when they see the message of hope you write today, maybe they'll think 'I can get through this today' .  And it'll be because they drew strength from you."

I ended the street fair putting the pink turnout gear and an air pack on and walking around getting my picture taken with little kids.  A great way to end the day.

Tomorrow we're off to Milwaukee (Chippewa for "what did you step in?") where we'll visit Children's Hospital.

Pink Heals!

Peace.

Day 2 (I love this stuff)

We left Warrenville this morning and drove up to Rockford, about 90 minutes away.

Today was a day for visitors, I guess.  It was also a day for changes.  Let me re-phrase that, this weekend has been full of changes and there's more to come tomorrow.  Yesterday Mike from FL and I came on.  Today Bobby O. from IL and Dave from IN both left and tomorrow as we go to Delafield, Jamie from FL and Danny from NC both head home.  All four of these guys are salt-of-the-earth (does anybody even say that anymore? Yeesh) types.  Really good guys and I'm going to miss them, even though I've only known them for a couple of days. 

So today I ran into an old friend (we used to work side-jobs together) met a new friend from the Twitter... saw a cousin and her husband, the boy child, the photographer and Beatle baby, but without question, the most impactful moment happened as a result of someone I met yesterday.

At the Aurora event on Saturday, a woman came up to me and we talked about the pink fire trucks.  "P" said she was a survivor.  A 5 time survivor (let that one sink in for a minute) and she wanted to sign the truck.  She did, we all hugged her and she spent a little time talking to a couple of the guys.  So, this afternoon, I was helping out with t-shirt sales and I looked up to see "P" walking towards us.  She saw me and said hi and told me she wanted to exchange the shirt she bought yesterday because it didn't fit.  I said "you drove all the way up here for that?"  She said "you know, in all the excitement yesterday, I completely forgot to sign in memory of my Mom, Grandma and an Aunt that all died from cancer.  I said "Let's go take care of that for you"

As we walked toward the truck she wanted to sign, a cancer patient walked past us.  She had lost her hair.  "P" started sobbing softly and I asked her what was wrong. 

"I never lost my hair. I feel so guilty"

We stopped walking and I put my arm around her shoulder.  I told her "it's ok, you don't have anything to feel bad about, you kicked cancer's butt 5 times.  It affects different people in different ways."  It took her a few minutes to regain her composure. 

It took every ounce of strength I could muster to not start bawling like a baby with her.  It was an incredibly emotional moment, one of the most intense I've felt on tour. 

After our event at the hospital, we had four home visits.  They went really well, but were very emotional as well.  On one of them, it struck me that the young children of a stage four cancer patient were in pretty good spirits, considering the way their world was soon to be turned upside down.  But a little later, one of the other drivers made a good point.  One that I hadn't considered.  They were most likely so used to Mommy being sick, roughly for a third of their young lives, that they were kind of numb to it.  It was so normal to them that the emotion was gone from it.  I guess I'm so used to the perspective of sudden loss that I tend to forget that side of loss. 

I've got a couple pictures from two of the home visits and, again, I was careful not to use any identifying shots.  Just something to show what we do.

That's John from OK (he's famous, you know) with one of our survivors immediately post hug (of course you don't know that, I haven't told you yet) and he's showing her that he doesn't have any hair either (I promise I'll tell you more about John later).  And then this one-

We met so many fighters today, and we left with so many good feelings.  Feelings that we'll all carry for a long time. 

I'd like to think I'll remember everyone we met today.  I don't know if that's possible, but we met some wonderful people and some amazingly strong women.  Here's to keeping up the fight!

Pink Heals!

Peace!

Just like Christmas morning

First day on the tour is coming to a close.  We had a great day in Aurora, IL today.  It was held at the Aurora Regional Fire Museum, a cool little museum, that I'd actually thought might be kind of interesting to visit.  We had great crowds, met lots of survivors and gave lots of hugs.  One thing kind of caught me off guard though, I was helping a lady write something in memory of her aunt and I had my hand on her back because I didn't want her to mis-step and fall, and I was in perfect position to look over her shoulder at what she was writing.  In the time it took her to write, I felt the emotion of the moment as I watched the words flow from her pen onto Leslie.  Leslie, by the way, is named for a police officer from Indiana, a young woman that lost her battle to cancer.  I had to turn my eyes away briefly to maintain control of my composure.  I don't have many pictures from today, a brief video but I'm having issues (besides my normal issues) linking to it from the hotel computer. 

I do have this though, after the event I went into the museum and saw a 1948 American LaFrance fire engine from Batavia, IL. 

I looked at the bio posted for the engine and saw that it served the community for 40 years, from 1948 to 1988.  Given those dates, it means my Uncle Bob worked off of that engine.  Kind of a cool yet random thing.  Serendipity I guess. 

Of course this whole thing would work a lot better if I could figure out how to get the photo/video from my alleged "smart" phone to the hotel computer... grumble, grumble, grumble...

OK, I'm heading up for the evening.  Getting up and out early ish to drive up to Rockford, IL for an event up there.  Breakfast at the firehouse then to St. Anthony's Cancer Center.  In addition to being excited about doing this, I also get to see an old friend who's now a Deputy Chief on the FD up there and a new friend from "the Twitter"

Sorry G, I had to, lol!

Pink Heals!

Peace