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July 31, 2005

The Glimmer In The Gloom

Would you believe that Tylor (pictured above with his ever-present cousin and best friend Aaron) is fighting an invasion of ugly, deadly, inhumane, inoperable, brain tumors? Just look at him. He is on countless medications, he has one leg, his parents have lost pretty much everything, he has a head full of tumors and he has a plastic port attached to his chest that feeds medicine directly into his heart. I know I keep going on about it, but I just continued to be inspired by this remarkable kid. This boy is one in a million. I am honored to know him!

Tylor is really going through a tough time. Tougher than most of us will ever face in our entire lives, yet he still seems to find the glimmer in all the gloom.

I cannot get over how this ‘mischievous pre-angel in training’ is able to snub the ominous black cloud of despair hanging over him and continue to fill himself with radiance and light from the intermittent pencil-thin ray of hope that shines through the gloom.

Posted by trevor at 04:27 PM | Comments (2)

Butterflies and Angels

I spoke with a young girl named Tatum the other day who called me after reading my blog about Tylor. She is terminally ill and she wanted to talk about it. Like Tylor, she is more worried about the people she is going to leave behind than herself. We had such a wonderful, heartwarming chat about life and death. Right now she is suffering, not from chronic pain or the fear of dying, she is suffering because her parents adamantly refuse to acknowledge that her life is near the end. She knows she is going to pass away and she just wants to talk about it.

Well, she called the right person. Because boy can I talk. And talk we did.

I told her that she needed to make sure her needs were met and to enjoy her life as much as she could. And to do what ever it took to make that happen. (She did talk about wanting to hang glide from the Eiffel tower but we both agreed that hang-gliding, especially from the Eiffel Tower, would probably not be a happening thing.)

You’d think that talking about dying would make one instantly depressed. On the contrary, it really made me realize how bloody fantastic and brilliant my life is and, like countless blossoms on the tree of life, how many millions of opportunities are just waiting to be picked and savored by me.

Tatum called me back later and told me that she got fed up and finally spoke to her parents about how she was feeling. Apparently she said, “Guys I’m dying dammit and I want to talk about it.” She said her mother almost dropped her ovaries. (Her words, not mine.)

All I can say is Tatum – you go girl. Kick arse and take numbers!

Today’s conversation reminded me of a little friend I had a number of years ago named Renee. (See picture above. The man pictured with Renee, who looks like he is desperately trying to audition for the band REO -Speedwagon, is me a short while before my midlife-crisis-haircut and moustache-removal.)

That picture was taken hours before Renee passed away. She kept saying that she saw butterflies flying around the hospital room. Although I couldn’t see them I knew those butterflies were actually angels in waiting.

Renee had been in and out of consciousness and was muttering about the butterflies. I leaned forward to hear what she was saying and that’s when her mum Marcie, took the picture.

I acknowledged the butterflies and told Renee to take a deep breath, open her heart and imagine she was a butterfly too.

I told her to spread her beautiful wings and fly.

And shortly after that… she did.

I miss you little one. I hope that the wonderful flutter I sometimes feel in my soul is you stopping by for a visit.

Posted by trevor at 03:54 PM | Comments (5)

July 29, 2005

The Art Of Giving

Yesterday was a beautiful day in New York City. I was sitting on a bench in the Rockefeller Plaza. At one point I chatted to a young boy who was sitting beside me in a wheelchair. The boy had CP and his mother had brought him into the city for the day. It was so nice to see the boy giggling and enjoying himself so much. Seeing him smile like that was really heartwarming.

Meeting the boy and his mother reminded me of a trip I took to London a few years ago. I was sitting with some friends at an outdoor café. It was a rare sunny day in London and everybody was outside taking advantage of the fine weather.

I felt like I was watching a movie as people milled about in the cobblestone square. I remember taking a deep breath and noticing how powerful the colors of the green and purple table umbrellas looked against the deep blue sky.

A man pushing a young girl in a wheelchair passed by our table. They stopped to watch a street mime performing near by. I’m pretty certain the little girl had Cerebral Palsy. Even though she was squirming around in the wheelchair (desperately trying to control her muscles) she never took her eyes off the mime. Her father was also enthralled with the street artist.

As I watched them, a flower-seller walked by us pedaling freshly cut tulips. The girl in the wheelchair was so busy watching the mime that she did not notice the man offering her a flower.

I saw the flower-seller shrug, take one of the Tulips from his bunch and place the flower in the little girl’s hand. She clutched the flower without even realizing it.

The flower-seller smiled and walked off offering flowers to passers by as he went.

A crown gathered around the mime and began obscure the little girl’s view.

The father looked down at the girl smiling and began to push her wheelchair. That’s when they both noticed the flower in her hand. The girl was beside herself with glee. I could see her eyes sparkle from where I was sitting.

Totally surprised, the father scratched his head and looked around for the source of the tulip. Seeing nobody around with flowers, he shook his head and smiled in amazement. He then bent down and kissed the little girl. He rested his cheek against hers and they both admired the secret gift.

Posted by trevor at 11:18 AM | Comments (2)

July 26, 2005

The Pitch

I'm off to New York today to pitch the book I wrote with Tylor and a new television series. Back Thursday night with news, views and reviews. Watch this space.

(I will only be able to post comments upon my return.)

Posted by trevor at 04:34 AM | Comments (7)

July 25, 2005

Forging Ahead

I have a friend who has the potential to make a huge difference in the world, but he's not getting anywhere because one of his feet is trapped in the quicksand of his past. He keeps on making the same bad choices over and over again.

When he pulls himself free he will be incredibly successful.

I remember my dad discussing this with me when I was a teenager. Using a drawing like the one above, my dad explained that the difference between people who are successful and those who struggle is whether they look into the past or the present to create their future. If you continually look to the past you will always feel attached to the anchor that keeps you tethered to the past; if you look to the present, you will find a new springboard to launch you into the future.

Posted by trevor at 06:00 PM | Comments (5)

July 24, 2005

Cartoon Coup

Hi my name is Jack. I’m one of the bazillion characters who live inside Trevor’s head. (Yes, it is very noisy in here. Sometimes I find it hard to sleep with all those insecure little cartoons running around the place. One time, Trevor created a guy named Walter Ego and you should have seen…oh…never mind.)

Trevor is having a Sunday afternoon nap at the moment and so we decided to hang out here at his ‘In-Brain’ studio for a while. (We really like being here. This is where we were born, you know. )

My friend Skye and I (she’s the one in the picture above with me and Trevor) hacked into Trevor’s blog because we wanted to tell you that Trevor and his buddies at The Comical Sense Company have just won a couple of CINE Golden Eagle Awards for two of the animated movies we acted in. The brochure for the awards says…um… let’s see…ah here it is… “The CINE Golden Eagle Awards are recognized internationally as symbols of the highest production standards in filmmaking and videography.”

We don’t mean to blow our own trumpets or anything but Skye and I just wanted people to know that those awards were won pretty much because of our brilliant acting and comedic timing. Trevor did make a cameo appearance but he’s…well…pretty stiff. Cardboard-like. (And hee…hee…don’t tell him I told you but he used cue cards the whole time because he can’t remember his lines. Hah! We remembered all of ours.)

Skye and I are really proud of our animated little selves. I mean one of the other winners was Steven Spielberg, so…you know what I mean.

Trevor just woke up. I’m outta here before I get erased!

Later. Jack

Posted by trevor at 06:49 PM | Comments (8)

Hour Glass

"If people knew their time was running out they wouldn't waste it so much."

- Tylor Lauck

Posted by trevor at 12:05 PM | Comments (3)

July 22, 2005

The flight was delayed.

The flight was delayed. I sat in the Cincinnati Airport last Sunday night for three hours.

The people around me were agitated and frustrated. Fingers tapped. Feet dangled over crossed legs moving this way and that. Rotating. Tapping. Swaying.

Eyes rolled every time another announcement added to their discontent.

To pass the time I tried chatting to the people around me, but all I got were grunts in return.

Then I started thinking about the farewell I had experienced just a few hours earlier. A final farewell. A farewell whose image is burned into my soul forever.

A deep sorrow began to fill my being like water slowly rising in an empty well.

I tried very hard not to cry, but I failed. I felt the tears run through my fingers and down my wrists.

I cried softly but very deeply.

The person next to me got up and walked over to another seat on the adjoining row.

Then the person across from me shifted a few seats down.

Slowly the people around me began to move.

Their discomfort showed as they quietly edged away pretending to need a snack or information or the restroom.

I finally wiped my eyes and looked up. Everyone had moved away, except for an old man a few seats down from me, who slept soundly, snoring under his hat.

Posted by trevor at 07:21 PM | Comments (10)

July 20, 2005

Remembering A Time

Even at fourteen years-old my buddy Tylor knows that cancer is going to rob him of his future. He and I spoke this last weekend about special moments in our lives. Moments in time that we both treasure. The following journal entry reflects one of those times for me (I’m going to ask Tylor which special moments he’d like to share and I will post his answer upon receipt.):

I confess. It was me who set Chico free, although Bruce J. was there at the time. (Chico was a baboon. Our army unit’s mascot. He was captured on the South African border with Zimbabwe and brought back to our base camp.)

Chico was tied to a tree with a long chain which allowed him to climb the trunk and sleep in the branches. Chico was a wonderful animal. I really liked him because he was affectionate and had a sense of humor similar to mine. Well, maybe not his sense of humor per say, more like his laugh. (I was often told I laughed like a baboon by the school bully.)

A number of us were opposed to Chico’s capture and tried hard to make him happy. We often hung out with him and enjoyed his hugs. He always tried to groom us and he loved to look through our pockets for change, which he’d grab and run off with.

We gave Chico a teddy bear to keep him company while we were away (sometimes for days) on maneuvers. Chico loved that bear and could often be seen nurturing and caressing it.

My decision to free Chico came after I brought him some left over fruit from my dinner in the mess hall one day. As I approached his tree I saw a group of new recruits taunting him. They were trying to get Chico to smoke a cigarette. Because I out-ranked the men, I told them to move along and not to let me catch them messing with the baboon again.

I stood guard later that night and my shift ended at 2am. My friend Bruce and I walked past Chico’s tree on our way back to our tent. It was pretty dark and we couldn’t see Chico very clearly. I walked a little closer and suddenly realized that he was not alone. Chico and another baboon were huddled together at the base of the tree. It was so touching and heartbreaking to see the two of them holding each other like scared little children.

When the other baboon saw us it scampered off into the bush and I saw Chico look longingly after it. He then turned and looked at us. The sadness in his eyes and the slight tilt of his head was all it took. My heart broke. I decided there and then to release him. (It was a tough decision though because the consequence of letting him loose were dire. Staff-Sergeant Reyeneke (who considered Chico HIS pet) promised he would make the life of anyone who released Chico a living hell for the remainder of his two year service. Reyeneke was a tyrant and nobody wanted to be on his bad side.)

Bruce acted as a lookout while I approached Chico. The baboon backed away from me, probably thinking I was going to taunt him like the new recruits had done earlier that day. I stepped back and approached him again, this time crouching and softly whispering to him. (I must admit I was afraid of being bitten because baboons can be rather nasty when provoked.)

I got to Chico and reached out my hand. He took my hand and climbed onto my hip (Like he often did when we brought him fruit.) He clung to me like a child.

I unhooked the chain from around his neck and walked away from the tree with him. Chico hung onto me for dear life. He whimpered a little as I moved toward the edge of the clearing. It seemed like he did not want to go.

I put him down and without hesitation he scampered away from me toward the bush. Then he stopped, turned and ran back over to the tree where he was previously chained.

“No. Chico,” I whispered. “Go. Get out of here.”

“Shoo.” Whispered Bruce loudly. “Go on, get.”

Chico got to the tree and jumped up into the fork. He dug around for a few seconds and then dropped down to the ground and scuttled toward the undergrowth.

“Get out of here,” I urged.

As he neared the bush, he stopped and turned toward us. That’s when I noticed Chico was carrying his teddy bear. I smiled to myself now realizing why he had gone back to the tree.

Way off in the distance I heard an echo of the other baboon howling in the bush. Chico heard it too.

He tucked the teddy bear under his arm, gave us one last chatter of ‘monkey words’ and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Posted by trevor at 06:17 PM | Comments (8)

July 19, 2005

For Those Who Might Be Suffering Today

"Flowers grow out of dark moments."

- Corita Kent

Posted by trevor at 08:42 PM | Comments (5)

July 18, 2005

More Than Words...

This past weekend I had the honor and the privilege of spending some of Tylor’s valuable remaining time with him and his family in Hauktown, Ohio (population 60). I can honestly say that this was one of the most inspiring weekends I have ever experienced.

Very seldom have I met such loving parents as Dean and Denise (Tylor’s mother and father). The love and attention they show ALL of their children touched me to the core. (Not forgetting Tylor's beautiful sister Heather who is truly an angel. Her love and caring for her brother is immeasurable.)

Thank you Dean and Denise for allowing me to share these precious waning moments with Tylor and your family and friends. (I met many of Tylor’s family and friends and I was totally awed with the support and love the family is receiving from everyone.) Thank you also to all of the cousins, aunts, uncles, friends and neighbors who made me feel like one of the family.

Even though Dean and Denise have gone through hell and back and have very little left after the enormous medical bills that have ravaged the family, their generosity brought me to tears countless times during the weekend. They have lost pretty much everything, yet they share what little they have so generously. I have never seen them falter in taking care of their kids. Their enthusiasm and faith keeps their family strong, despite the obvious pain and despair that continues to tear each of their souls apart. (Dean and Denise are pictured above with Heather, Tylor (twice) Jace and little Shay (I don’t really know how to spell the kids names as I have never seen them spelled so forgive me if I’ve messed them up.)

The conversations below say more that I can ever say about this truly remarkable family who have taught me the value of life and the true meaning of love.

(Talking to Tylor’s father Dean.)

“Dean, I’m hoping we can make a little money for your family from the book I’m doing with Tylor.”

“That’s okay, Trevor. Don’t worry. We have enough to eat and stuff. My time with Tylor is more valuable than any money in the world.”

(Talking with Denise, Tylor’s mom.)

“Denise, I’ve got to hand it to you. I can’t believe how wonderful and positive your family’s attitude is considering all that you are going through with Tylor’s treatment.”

“Well, it’s amazing how you can find courage when you need to.”

“I don’t know if I could deal with the situation like you and Dean are.”

“Yes you could Trevor. See, most people talk themselves out of being positive. They tell themselves they should be feeling terrible and depressed or sorry for themselves. I refused to do that. While I’m fighting for my child’s life I want to make every day a great day for him.”

(Talking with Tylor.)

“Tylor what medication helps you the most?”

“Pretty nurses.”

Posted by trevor at 10:20 PM | Comments (6)

The Value Of Life

Tylor called me at the end of last week and told me the doctors couldn't do anything more for him and he was going home. I jumped on a plane at dawn on Saturday and flew across country to see him. (See above.) I will never forget this visit as long as I live. More to follow...

Posted by trevor at 01:33 PM | Comments (12)

July 14, 2005

Music Note

Posted by trevor at 07:25 PM | Comments (0)

Just a tad more Tylor

A little Tylor history per request. Excerpted from our book:

I knew Tylor was not your average kid from the very second I met him.

I was visiting the Children’s Hospital in Columbus Ohio and was invited to the Oncology wing to meet some of the kids in treatment. I am on the board of the Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation and make it a point to visit kids with cancer whenever I am doing a book signing or speaking engagement in a new city.

The visit was pretty sad as one might imagine until I walked into Tylor Lauk’s room. It was like a brilliant sunrise after a week of gloomy rain.

I had never met Tylor before, but this thirteen-year-old bundle of energy greeted me with a smile like he’d known me for twenty years.

“Hi,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Trevor Romain. I’m an author. You might have read a book I illustrated called “Chemo, Craziness and Comfort.”

“That’s you huh?”

“Yeah. Now, who are you?”

“Tylor Lauck. I’m from Findlay.”

“Good to meet you Tylor Lauck from Findlay.”

“Did you maybe see a leg hanging around down by the elevators?”

“A leg?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say that I did. Why?”

Because (Tylor flips open his sheets to reveal that he has only one leg.) I lost mine and I’m looking for a spare.

That was just the beginning...

*****

Tylor inspires me every time I speak to him. He has the guts to bare his soul without worrying about what people say.

His struggle has made him treasures every breath he takes. Unlike him (as I’ve mentioned before in this blog), there so are people who don’t value their lives at all.

They cannot see that only they can decide whether their existence is a privilege and a joy or whether it’s sad and miserable. When they say, “What is the point? Is it worth the struggle?” The reality they create makes their life worth little.

It’s difficult for people to understand happiness if they won’t jump for joy. (Even though Tylor is sometimes totally exhausted, his attitude radiates with infectious enthusiasm.)

You and I may be moved by a passionate piece of music. We may be touched by a beautiful painting. We may thrill to the warmth of our lover’s breath. All of these pleasures are available to us, but it’s up to us to include them in our lives.

Only we can decide, whether a swim in a mountain stream, the taste of a perfect peach dripping with sweet juice, a long conversation over a bottle of wine or a relaxing bubble bath, will add value to our existence.

*****

“Trevor, this book we are writing together. What should we include in it?”

“We should give people advice on how to handle hard times.”

“Okay. I learned a lot dealing with my treatment so I could offer people advice.”

“Okay, so what advice do you have for people who are facing hurdles in their lives?”

“Jump.”

“What?”

“Jump over the hurdles. Isn’t that what hurdles are there for, to be jumped over?”

“You are one smart cookie Tylor.”

“Yeah, I know.”

****

July 14, 2005: If you get to see this blog entry today Tylor, I wanted to say I know you are facing a very tough time right now. May my unconditional love and prayers surround you like a warm and comfortable' quilt on a freezing night. Love you buddy.

Posted by trevor at 10:47 AM | Comments (4)

July 12, 2005

The Special One

Today I finished the book Tylor (the one-legged maniac) and I have been working on for the last six months. (No title as yet.)

After discovering that I was an author Tylor decided we needed to create a book together to help people live life to the full. Tylor is truly inspiring. So I agreed to write the book with him. After all, who should know the value of life more than a child, suffering from cancer, who makes every day (which might be his last) the best day of his life?

Based on our telephone conversations, phone messages, notes and insights, we hope this book inspires people to enjoy each and every day as if it were their last.

Later today I heard some heartbreaking news from Tylor’s dad Dean. Tylor went in for chemotherapy and a scan today and three more tumors were found in the front of his brain. Dean says the inoperable tumors are the size of his fist. Tylor has been booked into the hospital and will soon be moving to the hospice room. I will be chatting to Tylor in a few minutes and I will hear more tomorrow after the family has spoken to their doctor.

Presented in Tylor's honor the following excerpts from the book show what an amazing human being he is and how blessed I am to know him.

****

“Hey Tylor what’s happening?”

“Not much.”

“How’s the Chemo?”

“Oh it’s great. I’m just loving it!”

“Really?”

“Of course not. Chemo sucks!”

“Uh…sorry, dude.”

That’s okay. Hey, Trevor, you’re an author, right?”

“Yup.”

“I want to write a book with you.”

“What kind of book?”

“A book to help people who are having a hard time.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah. But we’d better hurry.”

“Why?”

“Duh. I have cancer. I’m terminal.”

“Uh...well…if you put it that way. When do you want to start?”

“Now!”

“Okay. I guess we’re writing a book then...”

****

“Hi Trevor.”

“Hey there Tylor. I’m sorry to hear you are back in the hospital.”

“It’s okay.”

“So how’s the treatment going?”

“I actually haven’t thought about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I more interested in having fun.”

“You mean what trouble you can stir up, right?”

“Yeah. I got busted today for roller-blading down the hallway to the elevator.”

“No.”

“Yeah. The nurse yelled at me.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘You can’t be doing that Tylor.’” And I said why not? She said, ‘Because you only have one leg.’”

“So what did you say?”

“I said, ‘Lady I have got two legs, but only one of them is visible.’”

****

“I’m just sitting here thinking about what I’m going to eat when I wake up.”

“But Tylor you’re just about to have brain surgery and you’re thinking about food?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you anxious about the surgery?”

“Nah. Worryin’ about whether I should be worried or not just makes me worry.”

“Errr. Okay.”

****

“Hey Tylor, what’s happening?”

“Nothin’ much. Just sitting here in the hospital. I’m getting a blood transfusion right now.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah. It’s just like changing the oil in your car.”

****

“How do you manage to move around with one leg? I mean your mom told me that one day you hid your roller-blade in you back pack and once you were out of sight of the house you roller-bladed on the road.”

“I just do it.”

“Don’t you feel off balance?”

“No. In my mind I have two legs.”

“They call that visualization. It can be a very powerful tool while fighting your cancer.”

“Yeah. I picture the little chemo like a munching monster in my blood eating the little tumors.”

“Like Pac Man.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. How do you visualize your future?”

“I always picture myself being well when I think of the future. I never see myself curled up in a little ball all sick and sorry for myself.”

“That’s a real positive way of dealing with things Tylor.”

“There one thing that I don’t want to visi…visu… that visual thing.”

“Visualize.”

“Yeah.”

“What don’t you want to visualize?”

“Your shirt with the pink and red flowers. The one you wore for the movie premiere. That shirt scares me.”

“But it’s a designer shirt.”

“I don’t think that designer went to school for design.”

****

“Today is a great day.”

“How come, Tylor?”

“Because I want it to be.”

*****

“Trevor, with this book, we could be on TV right? Like on the Today Show.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Hmmm. Well, I hope you don’t change if I make you famous.”

****

Tylor is one of the most compassionate human beings I have ever met. He is all about the welfare of others. When his little brother was about to have a hernia operation, Tylor who has had over 41 surgeries cried and said he wished it were him having the surgery not his little brother.

Posted by trevor at 07:17 PM | Comments (11)

Duh!

Yes, you’ve seen them. Labels that make you say, “Duh!” I saw this label on a friend’s blowtorch. I guess the human race is dumbing down so much that we have to be told not to do things like putting our fingers into light sockets or (as seen on the treadmill at my gym) “If you pass out, stop exercising immediately.” Duh!

Posted by trevor at 06:53 AM | Comments (2)

July 10, 2005

Defining Moment

I was asked in an interview last week if there was a moment in my life that helped me decide to work with kids. I told the interviewer about a number of ‘defining’ moments, a few of which, I have posted on my blog. One specific moment (which I wrote about earlier this year and have decided to share once again) came to mind when I saw a young man with Down Syndrome in my local coffee shop with his mother. The lad's infectious smile and joyous demeanor reminded me that all the worries I had assigned myself for that day, were not worth worrying about at all.

He also reminded me of a time in my life when I thought I was the most important being on the planet. I was about sixteen and thought I knew everything. I had the world by the horns and I was riding it like a bull at a rodeo. Until one of the Campbell sisters (I think it was Janet) signed me up (without my knowledge) as volunteer at the Avril Elizabeth Home for kids with special needs. (Most of the kids were Down Syndrome kids.)

Yes, Janet Campbell took it upon herself to “save” the wayward neighborhood kids who were in her eyes, ‘wasting their lives’.

She sentenced me to community service without me even committing a crime. (Other than being full of myself and… well…I did steal candy from the Orange Grove Café and…I did steal a chemistry set from Brendad Gaylis.)

I tried my best to get out of going to the home, but my parents would hear none of my excuses.

So I went. I hated being around those kids!…for about five minutes. Then my whole outlook changed. I had an absolute blast. Volunteering at the Avril Elizabeth Home was one of the highlights of my life.

What an experience. I learned the meaning of the phrase unconditional love. I learned that giving a far more rewarding that receiving. I also learned that there is no letter ‘I’ in the word team.

Thanks to a nudge from Janet Campbell, I was helped off my pedestal before it was kicked out from under me.

I remember one day at the home a kid with Down Syndrome named Darren came up to me in tears. Someone in his neighborhood had been teasing him. He puts his arms around me and sobbed. He was a big chap and he almost smothered me with his pain.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Some kids made fun of me.”

“What did they say?” I asked.

“They said I’m a monster from a movie.”

“You’re not a monster.” I replied. (My heart hurting with his pain.)

“I’m not?”

“Nah. THEY are the monsters. Snot-nosed little monsters.”

He pulled back and clapped his hands with glee. Then he suddenly turned serious.

“Are you my friend?” he asked, looking me dead in the eye.

“Always Darren.”

“Thank you my friend,” he said, almost bowling me over with a second bear hug.

“Hey Darren,” I said as he turned to leave. “You are too cool.”

He paused, tilting his head. He looked at me for a few seconds.

“No.” he said, earnestly. “You be the cool one. I’ll be the hot stuff. My mom said that's what I am.”

Sometimes a little nudge can motivate us to do good things. Things we might not normally do. As Socrates said, “A man who would move the world must first move himself.”

Like the story my dad once told me about billionaire businessman who had a party at his mansion. To add drama to his event, he filled his swimming pool with sharks. He then told his guests that he would give the first person to swim across the pool the choice of a brand new home or the position of president of one of his companies.

Before he could finish his announcement there was a large splash in the water and a man swam quickly across the pool.

The billionaire approached the man and said, “That was an amazing performance. What prize will you choose?”

The swimmer caught his breath and replied, “Right now I don’t really care about the prize. I just want to find the person who pushed me into the pool.”

Posted by trevor at 08:31 PM | Comments (0)

Open Letter

Each and every day I get at least 25 posted comments from people who are trying to add their sleazy advertising hot links onto my blog. These range from on-line casinos to moneylenders to Viagra hawkers to porn pushers. (You fools don’t realize that I get to approve what comments are seen on my blog, so you’ll never ever have the opportunity to offer your slime to my wonderful readers.)

Because my e-mail address is open to all who read my blog I get at least 30 spam e-mails a day even though I have a spam blocker. (There are even more in the blocked spam folder.)

The following is an open letter to those who are foisting their crappy products and unsavory services (that they cannot sell any other way) onto us.

I know that most spam and blog-comment-hijacking is computer generated so none of these people will see this post, but on the off chance that one of them does…

Dear Empty Vessel,

I wish you would do something valuable with your life instead of trying to scam people to make a quick buck. I feel very sad for you because when your buck is gone your hollow life will echo with emptiness. Imagine what good you can do for people (who really need help) with the energy you spend trying to trick and scam decent individuals. I know so many children who are terminally ill with cancer who would give anything for the life that you are wasting and treating like garbage.

How lonely and insignificant you must feel.

I wonder if you lie in bed at night and say to yourself. “I am a happy human being. I scored hundreds of dollars today buy being manipulative, slimy and deceitful. My kids really love me because I’m a wonderful citizen and an upstanding member of my community.” NOT!

I send prayers to you because if you are living your DREAM by emulating a cockroach, your life must be really awful.

Posted by trevor at 10:10 AM | Comments (2)

July 07, 2005

The Masterpiece

I was painting on a large canvas today and appreciating how wonderful it is to be free to paint whatever I am driven to paint. I found myself contemplating my future as a blank canvas and it reminded me of a fabulous book I read recently called ‘Orbiting The Giant Hairball’ (Viking). In the book the author Gordon MacKenzie (who was a creative genius at Hallmark cards) writes about turning your life into a masterpiece.

He talks about imagining that when you are just about to be born, God hands you a blank canvas and asks you to do him a favor and paint a masterpiece for Him while you’re on earth.

“Sure,” you say to God and roll up the canvas and tuck it under your arm. Then you head off down the birth canal clutching the canvas as you are born.

MacKenzie asks us to imagine the doctors saying, “Hey look the little kid is holding a rolled-up artists canvas.”

He then goes on to talk about how the people (around when you are born) realize that you do not have the skills to do anything 'meaningful' with the canvas. So they (the big people) take the canvas away from you, for safe keeping, until you have acquired the prescribed skills needed for the canvas’s return.

MacKenzie brilliantly describes how society, while holding the canvas for us, cannot resist the temptation to unroll the canvas and draw pale blue lines and little blue numbers all over the surface.

He mentions how eventually the canvas is returned to you however it now carries the implied message that, if you paint inside the blue lines provided, your life will be a masterpiece.

“And,” says MacKenzie, “that’s a lie.”

Finally he talks about a time, a half-century later, when traumatic events made him pull back from his ‘masterpiece-in-the-works’ only to realize how awful it looked. How the strokes of paint oh his canvas had nothing to do with him. They did not illustrate who he was or what he could become.

So he changed his life and decided to white out his canvas and (with colorful paints) create his own picture, some of it OUTSIDE the lines.

He concludes with the following passage:

“You have a masterpiece inside you, too, you know. One unlike any that has ever been created, or ever will be.

And remember.

If you go to your grave without painting your masterpiece, it will not get painted. No one else can paint it. Only you.”

Unfortunately Gordon MacKenzie died in October 1999. After reading his book I know he took a brilliant masterpiece back to his maker. I hope you will too.

Posted by trevor at 09:30 PM | Comments (4)

July 06, 2005

Discover The Secret

Posted by trevor at 03:24 PM | Comments (1)

Big Sky 2

Posted by trevor at 03:23 PM | Comments (0)

Big Sky 3

I decided to share my book 'Under The Big Sky' in honor of my young friend Tylor (the one-legged maniac) who during his constant, painful, nauseating cancer treatment has found the secret of life.

"Every day is the best day of your life," he told me recently.

(I scanned the book very quickly so this blog version of 'Under The Big Sky' does not quite resemble the bound volume. I am so happy to hear that people are giving this book to others who are graduating, going through a divorce, changing jobs, making difficult decisions etc. (The book has been translated into 9 languages.) Excuse the shameless plug, but for those who have asked to buy copies of the book, they are only available on my website at www.TrevorRomain.com. (The book is in full color and is hardbound with 48 pages.)

I hope story helps those who are searching for meaning in their lives or those who might be going through a transition or a difficult time right now.

Posted by trevor at 03:21 PM | Comments (3)

July 05, 2005

To be continued...

After sitting in the park today I saw and heard something that helped me make up my mind to keep my blog exactly as it is. (See previous blog.) Thanks to all of you who sent me such wonderful, heartfelt feedback. And yes, I know, it’s my blog and I should be authentic and write what is true to me, not pander to others. You are right! Consider it done. The blog will continue, as is, ad infinitum.

Today in the park on the banks of the Colorado River here in Austin two young girls were sitting off by themselves and chatting while their mothers conversed on a bench nearby.

The girls sat for almost an hour talking non-stop. I was only able to catch a small part of their conversation carried by the wind to where I sat.

“I’m going to be a veterinarian.”

“You are?”

“Uh huh.”

“I love animals.”

“Me too.”

“I was going to be a doctor.”

“You’re not going to be a doctor anymore?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re a doctor, you have to go to war.”

The wind changed direction and I could hear no more…

Posted by trevor at 06:57 PM | Comments (6)

An Honest Question

My blog has now been up for six months and I am totally thrilled by the number of readers I have. (About eight hundred a day.) I receive many wonderful e-mails and comments about my blog each week which makes all the effort really worthwhile. (To be honest, my ego loves it too. I thank all of you who have been so supportive from day one.)

I would like to ask you, my dear reader, an honest question though. Should I continue my blog as it is? (Which is just a collection of random thoughts or sketches that appear when I face the fresh new pages of my journal each day.)

Some people have stopped reading my blog because they say it is too sad and depressing. (I was so disappointed to hear this because I don’t set out to write sad stories, I just reflect on things that move me.)

This blog takes about two hours a day for me to maintain and I want it to be powerful and worthwhile for those who read it. Your comments are really important to me. Let me know what you think. I’d love your input!

Posted by trevor at 03:51 PM | Comments (27)

July 04, 2005

July 4th 2005

Posted by trevor at 11:33 AM | Comments (0)

July 03, 2005

A Flower Blooming In The Ashes

As Independence Day weekend is celebrated here in the United States I can’t help but think of those who would give anything to celebrate the freedom that is enjoyed (and often taken for granted) here in the United States.

I was reminded of those less fortunate while I was watching the G8 concert yesterday where I learned that a child dies every THREE seconds in Africa. Every day more people die in Africa than were killed at the World Trade Center. Every day!

I was specially touched during the G8 concert when organizer Bob Geldorf showed a picture taken many years ago of a young African girl who was completely malnourished and close to death. Her eyes were rolling in her head and she was a bag of bones with flies buzzing around her mouth and sitting on her eyelids. Geldorf then brought out the same person. She is now a vivacious young woman who is in the process of completing university. She is alive and thriving thanks to Live Aid.

Instead of celebrating freedom this weekend I have decided to celebrate those who have not taken their freedom for granted but used it to make a difference in other people’s lives. One of those people is my friend Bill Kelsey. I received this e-mail from Bill yesterday:

“…I agreed to go on contract with Airserv to standby for hurricane disaster relief in the Carribean but wound up in Goma, Congo, to help out flying a Cessna Caravan for a month in this war torn land. I was here three years ago soon after the volcano had erupted, sending a stream of lava across the runway and down the main streets of town. The flying was some of the most beautiful I have done and so I was happy to return to see what had become of the place.

Eastern Congo is a part of the world where the earthly forces of creation and destruction are in a powerful dance. It is horrible and it is beautiful. A nightmare and a dream. The earth shakes, the mountains drool lava and the lakes randomly spew up poison gas. The spectacular landscape is fertile.

The forces of man are also creating and destroying. One flight for Medicins san Frontiers (Doctors Without Borders) took us to several landings south of Goma and on to Lubumbashi, the capital of Katanga province. We spent the night there, not far from the mines of Shinkolobwe. From these mines people took the uranium used to roast Hiroshima and Nagasaki sixty summers ago.

Battles happen, but people grow flowers around the bombed out terminals where we pick up and drop off passengers. The struggle for decency and dignity amid the violence is real and gives hope. The human forces of destruction are foreign and local. The creative forces are also foreign and local.

One of the best days of my life happened last week. I was assigned to fly a mission to several towns on behalf of Save the Children. My passengers were de-mobilized child soldiers. This worthy organization had persuaded the army and various militias to release them and had given them some counseling and re-education. But these child veterans still thought they should come to attention when this foreigner in a pilot's uniform called out their names from the passenger manifest. I took about two-dozen to their hometowns. Two were girls, one of whom had her own infant on her back. It was a good day, worth all the sweat and heartache that go into training to become a pilot. I think I did good, a small feather placed at the right place on the balance between good and evil, a flower blooming in the ashes.

Guns and soldiers and militias are everywhere. Local ones and foreign ones - United Nations soldiers bristling with guns prepared to shoot people with guns to persuade people with guns that they should not shoot other people. Someday we'll learn a better way perhaps.

There is much work to do. We cannot complete it but neither can we avoid the task. There are many soldiers in this world who need to be brought home, young ones and old ones.

Love from the land of volcanoes, gas-bubbling lakes and fruit trees growing from the lava.”

Bill (Kelsey)

My prayers and love to the incredible people across the world, like Bill, who have left their homes, their comfort zones, their safety and their families to make the world easier and more comfortable for those in dire need. I salute you all!

Posted by trevor at 12:17 PM | Comments (1)

July 02, 2005

Late Last Night

I couldn’t sleep last night so I walked over to the studio to do some painting. I saw some movement in the studio so I hid in the shadows and peeked through the window.

Inside I saw Storm the Studio Cat ‘busting a move’.

He’s one fast cat because by the time I unlocked the door and turned on the light he was sitting on a chair, the music was off, the dancing had stopped and he was pretending to be asleep. He opened one eye, blinked and then went back to sleep. Pah. He thinks I don’t know what’s going on in the studio late at night while I'm asleep!

Posted by trevor at 09:35 AM | Comments (3)