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September 29, 2005
Resolved!
Today's technical glitch and 'crashed server' problem has been resolved thanks to Monica. I can now blog again! Todays blog will be up shortly.
Posted by trevor at 10:04 AM | Comments (0)
September 28, 2005
The Promise
I wonder if I could ask you a favor. My video series has been nominated for a ‘Kids First’ best of the year video award. My competition has gathered everyone they know to vote for them. I thought I’d do the same.
Here are the steps for voting at Kids First!
2. "Vote for Kids First! Best of the year"
3. Then click on: "Vote by clicking here"
4. Vote twice for ‘Laugh and Learn with Trevor Romain’ (one for Best Independent, Ages 5-8 and one for best overall).
5. Then click on ‘submit’.
6. Then smile.
Posted by trevor at 07:24 AM | Comments (1)
September 27, 2005
First Impression
It was 106 degrees in Austin today. I was at the local swimming pool. I saw a young woman frolicking in the shallow water with her tiny infant. It was a pleasure to see a mother and child experiencing such joy.
A load roar diverted my attention and destroyed the serenity. A ‘rough-and-tough-and-ready’ young man pulled up on his Harley Davidson motorcycle.
“If I saw him in a dark alley I would run,” I thought to myself.
The young man entered the pool area, disappeared into the changing room and appeared seconds later in his bathing suit.
The head of every young girl in the entire pool area turned as the young motorcycle man and his six-pack walked along the edge of the pool.
He stepped onto the lawn and walked over to the woman and the infant who had been frolicking in the water a few minutes earlier.
The woman smiled broadly and handed the motorcycle man the baby.
“I missed her so much today,” he said, pulling his precious child close to his body and kissing her head. “I really missed you pumpkin.”
On second thoughts, if I saw him in a dark alley I would compliment him on being a great dad, then run.
Posted by trevor at 04:50 PM | Comments (1)
September 26, 2005
Job Description
For those who don’t know, I am the Creative Director of the Comical Sense Company, which I started two years ago with my partners Fred Miller and Ronda and Woody Englander.
Somebody asked me last night what a ‘Creative Director” actually does. What a great question! The answer in my case is very simple. I sit in meeting after meeting and I doodle (see examples above) while the brains of the company talk about things I am not smart enough to understand. Then they work hard to run the company and I go off to my studio and doodle some more instead of writing books and conceptualizing television shows.
Posted by trevor at 07:40 AM | Comments (1)
September 25, 2005
A Kindness Not Forgotten
Although it was long ago and far away, a wonderful girl nurtured me and mended my broken wings when I was alone. As I grew stronger, we watched a nest of little birds outside my window. She passed away before I could fly again. Today is her birthday. Blackbird was her song:
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
- Paul McCartney
Posted by trevor at 04:53 PM | Comments (1)
September 24, 2005
The Between Times
As we rush from place to place, work to play, play to work, scene to scene, we frequently miss the best of the ‘between times'. Those flash moments of magic that we often pass by because they are almost subliminal.
In my haste today I almost missed the incredible look on a little girl face as she was about to eat her ice cream. The moment ended quickly though as the guy in the car behind me honked angrily because the light had turned green.
I so wanted to get out of the car and point out to him the wonderful look of sheer glee on the little girl's face as she took the first bite. But by the time I glanced back from my rear view mirror, and the guy's irritable head shake, she was gone.
Posted by trevor at 12:51 PM | Comments (1)
September 23, 2005
One And The Same
I left South Africa and settled in the United States for a number of reasons. One of them was ‘apartheid’. It saddens me when I hear that hatred has reared its ugly head here in the United States revealing racism in areas hit by Hurricane Katrina.
With that in mind, I’d like to share a wonderful story told to me by my grandfather Ted. I have told this story before, but decided now would be a good time to share it again.
I’m not sure who originally created the tale, but it took place during the war in South Africa between the Boers and the Zulus many years ago…
During the height of the war there was a skirmish in the veld and a Boer soldier, on his horse, saw a Zulu warrior in combat with one of his fellow Boers. The Zulu had a yapping yellow dog at his side as he fought.
The Boer saw the Zulu put his spear through his friend’s chest. As the Zulu stabbed the man, the Boer on the horse shot the Zulu dead. The Zulu warrior collapsed on top of the soldier he had just impaled with his spear.
Yelping loudly, the dog ran off into the bush as the watching Boer spurred his horse and narrowly escaped a number of spear wielding Zulu’s who were approaching him.
Many months later, after the war, the Boer soldier came back to collect the bones of his dead friend. When he and a number of fellow soldiers approached the spot where their friend’s bones lay, intertwined with those of the Zulu warrior, they noticed the same yellow dog sitting obediently next to the pile of bones. The dog took off into the bush as the men approached.
The soldiers had a hard time sorting the white soldier’s bones from the Zulu’s bones. The bones were literally mixed up because they had been stripped clean by wild animals. The Boers were hard pressed to figure out whose the bones belonged to who. They did not want any black man’s bones to be buried with their white comrade, that was for sure.
After discarding the dirty bones (which they were convinced belonged to the Zulu) they took the Boer’s bones back to a graveyard a few miles away, where he was buried with full honors.
On a full-moon night six months later, the men were headed back to their farms after a bible-study class. They passed the graveyard where their friend, the Boer soldier, was buried. As they took off their hats in respect they noticed, in the distance, a yellow dog sitting by the graveside.
Posted by trevor at 01:49 PM | Comments (0)
September 22, 2005
Umfaan
Yesterday my friend Mary brought her two young sons to visit my studio. I showed them how to use acrylic paint. It was so wonderful to see how proud the boys were of their little paintings.
Watching them paint took me back to the time I made my first and last kite. It took me two whole days to build. It was made of yellow and green tissue paper and I was really proud of it. I made a tail from my dad’s old school tie.
This was probably the worst kite ever built. It was heavy and clumsy and rather ugly. In my mind though, it was a masterpiece!
I ran outside to fly the kite the minute it was done.
It was a gusty fall day in Johannesburg. Not perfect kite-flying weather, but I didn’t care. I had made a great kite and I was determined to fly it.
We didn't have a garden so I ran up and down the road trying to get the kite to fly, but it just wouldn’t lift.
I was frustrated because, in my nine year-old mind, I could see that kite touching the fluffy white clouds in deep blue Transvaal sky.
A sudden gust of wind lifted the kite and jerked the string out of my hand. Before I could do anything, the kite took off, lifted steeply and then took a nosedive into the oak tree outside Mrs. Van Buuren’s house.
And there it sat. Wedged in the branches beyond my reach.
My mum and dad were out and with nobody to console me, I sat on the sidewalk, buried my face in my hands and cried.
I did not even see the old African man approaching.
He patted me on the head.
I looked up startled.
“Are you sad, umfaan?” (”Are you sad little boy?”)
“Yes,” I replied pointing to the tree. My kite is stuck up there.”
“That’s a pretty kite,” he said.
“I made it myself,” I replied, proudly.
“Let me see if I can get it for you.”
He took off his old, almost worn-out sports coat, folded it carefully and placed it gently on the sidewalk below the tree.
The man had holes in his shoes.
“Why have you got holes in your shoes?” I asked, innocently.
“Oh umfaan, he said. “There is not enough work and I have kids and grandkids to feed.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed.
“That’s alright umfaan,” he said, smiling. “I am very rich inside. He patted his heart with his hand.
The old man’s smile warmed me from head to toe.
“Does your daddy have a rake, umfaan?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s in the garage. I’ll get it.”
I ran and got the rake. The old man stretched up and tried to reach the kite. He wasn’t quite tall enough so he tried standing on his tiptoes. He stretched even more and managed to touch the kite with the rake. He then leaned back and pulled the rake down. The kite came loose.
“You did it,” I yelled.
Before either of us could say anything else, the rake slipped out of the man’s hands and fell. As it tumbled to the ground, it tore the kite to shreds.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” said the man, putting his hand on my head. “I broke your kite, umfaan.”
He picked up the kite and tried to straighten out the bent and broken struts. Then he handed it to me and shook his head sadly.
“I’m truly sorry umfaan,” he said, picking up his jacket.
For some reason I could not look the old man in the eye and instead I looked down at his shoes.
“Wait,” I said and rushed inside my house.
I went into my dad’s closet, grabbed his very expensive leather shoes and ran back outside.
These are for you,” I said, handing him my father’s shoes.
“But umfaan they are very expensive,” he said. “I cannot take these. Your father will be very cross. And maybe the police will think I stole them.”
“They don’t fit my dad,” I lied. “He was going to get rid of them anyway.”
“Thank you umfaan,” he said, taking off his old shoes and placing the new ones gently on his feet. He handled my dad's shoes like they were made of glass.
They were way to big for the old man.
“They’re probably too big,” I said, relieved. I was starting to regret having given him my dad’s expensive shoes. In my desire to please, I did not stop to think about the consequences.
“Oh that’s okay,’ he said, smiling. “I’ll put some newspaper in the front and they’ll be very fine. Thank you umfaan.”
The old man walked down the street, never once taking his eyes of his shiny pair of new shoes.
Then he turned the corner and disappeared.
Two days later my mum found a beautiful handmade kite at the front door.
It was a work of art.
It was too precious to fly so I hung it on my bedroom wall.
Posted by trevor at 04:31 PM | Comments (2)
September 21, 2005
To The Future
Posted by trevor at 10:48 AM | Comments (1)
September 19, 2005
Last Word For Today
I am sure Tylor was thrilled that over 500 people were at his funeral today. Especially considering that he comes from Houcktown, which only has a population of 60!
Tylor, as a mischievous, caring, pre-angel in training you touched so many lives. I know you’ll continue to do the same as soon as you are issued your wings!
P.S. Please say hi to my dad when you get a chance.
Posted by trevor at 10:06 PM | Comments (7)
Capt. Mike
Sometimes I wonder if spending two hours a day producing a blog is really worth it. Today I realized that it definitely is.
This afternoon I received an e-mail from a soldier in Iraq. Apparently my blog was suggested by his sister. (I was surprised that soldiers are able to surf the web and send e-mails, but apparently they can.):
Dear Trevor,
I just want to thank you for inspiring me every day. I was bitter and angry when I first got here. All I wanted to do was get even for the bombing of the World Trade Center. I soon realized that revenge is not why I am here. I am here to help people. I figured this out after reading your blog. I check it out every morning to get my day started right.
Your work with sick children, like Tylor Lauck, inspired me to set up an informal art class here with the local kids. It’s one of the most rewarding things I have ever done in my life. I now feel like I can actually make a difference while I’m here.
Thank you for opening my eyes.
Capt. Mike
Thank you for the kind words Capt. Mike and thank you for finding some sort of yes in that mess. On behalf of all of us I wish you well and a safe journey home soon.
Posted by trevor at 07:11 PM | Comments (7)
The Best Of Lauck
In honor of Tylor Lauck’s funeral today here is an excerpt from our forthcoming book tentatively titled “The Best Of Lauck”.
“Tylor, I know this might sound like a ridiculous question but do you think anything good has come out of you having cancer?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“Like I have a lot to be thankful for.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“NASCAR racing.”
“Really?”
“No I’m kidding. Cancer made me realize that life is great. After I got sick I realized. Jeez, I should make the most every day because if you waste a day you can’t get it back. ”
Yeah. My grandfather once said, “Enjoy life, there’s plenty of time to be dead.”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
“What else?”
“I’m thankful for my family, well actually, I guess I’m thankful for everything. When you figure out that you might die or something, then you realize that there’s not much that you really need, except for time.”
“You’re so right.”
“Yeah. People forget to enjoy what they have because they are so busy looking for other stuff.”
“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
“Yeah. I figured that out after I lost my leg.”
“What else did you figure out?”
“That it’s really hard to play soccer with one leg. You can do it, but you land on your butt every time you kick the ball.”
Posted by trevor at 09:30 AM | Comments (3)
September 17, 2005
Always There
In memory of Tylor I would like share a song I wrote for my late dad. It is featured in my animated video “What On Earth Do You Do When Someone Dies?”
Tylor, you touched my life. I am a better person for knowing you. Although my heart is broken, I will rebuild it with memories of you and make it strong again. And with that strength you and I will fulfill both of our dream of making a difference in the lives of those who need help. You're not here "T" but you're always there!
Always There
By Trevor Romain and Carl Thiel
Memories of you
Embrace my sore heart
I feel you near
Even though we’re apart
When I close my eyes
I see your face
Your beautiful smile
I’ll never erase
You’re not here
But you’re always there
When I feel empty
And hollow inside
I think of you
Sitting right by my side
Your soothing voice
Hugs my soul
It takes broken memories
And makes them whole
No you’re not here
But you’re always there
I share your memories
With joy and pride
I won’t let them wash away
With the tears I’ve cried
Your life keeps burning in my heart
I promise I’ll do my part
You comfort me
When I’m feeling down
And help me
When no one else is around
No you’re not here
But you’re always there
You’re not here
But you’re always there
(To hear this song go to http://www.trevorromain.com/html/kids/music.php and click on “Always There”.)
(My dear friend Carl Thiel also produced and engineered the song in his studio. It was beautifully sung by the amazing Lisa Tingle.)
Posted by trevor at 10:41 AM | Comments (2)
September 16, 2005
Posted by trevor at 09:35 AM | Comments (23)
September 15, 2005
The Surprise
Today I put the finishing touches on a book I have written about Tylor Lauck, an inspirational fourteen-year-old cancer patient who has changed my life.
As I write this entry, the sun is setting very quickly on Tylor’s life. He is no longer conscious but resting comfortably with his family at his bedside.
A few months ago I went up to Ohio to visit Tylor and we talked briefly about his funeral.
Tylor is incredibly quick witted.
“What should I wear at my funeral?” he asked me.
Tylor is really good at trying to disarm people with his wonderful dry sense of humor. I was ready for him this time though.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s look at your clothes and see.”
He took me back to where his clothes were and showed me a nice shirt.
“That’s cool,” I said. “Which pants do you want to wear?”
He pulled out a pair of shorts and held them up to me.
“You can’t wear those,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Dude, you’re going to meet God for goodness sake. You can’t be wearing short pants!”
“Oh yeah,” he said, and burst out laughing. The look on his face was priceless.
He had that same look on his face last weekend when I flew up to Findlay to say goodbye to him.
He had been telling his mum and dad for weeks that he thought I was going to surprise him with a visit.
After hearing from his parents that he was not doing very well, I decided to make the surprise visit come true.
And what a surprise it was.
Tylor’s mum and dad took him to his favorite restaurant. This was a tough task though because Tylor has lost the use of his arm and he only has one leg so he could not move around very well. And because of the tumor pressing on his brain, words were hard for him to find, which frustrated him terribly.
Through the window I could see the hostess seating the family. Once they were settled, I called Tylor on his cell phone. I could hear in his voice that he was frustrated at not being able to form words very well. He had a hard time speaking to me.
“Hey Tylor.” I said. “How are you doing?”
“Okay I guess.”
“What are you doing?”
“Outback. Umm.”
“Oh you’re at your favorite restaurant. The Outback steakhouse.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“When should I come and see you, buddy?”
“Anytime,” came his reply.
“How about now?” I said, tapping him on the arm.
He turned and looked over his shoulder and saw it was me. Although he could not smile very well because of partial paralysis, his whole face lit up and his eyes sparkled as they danced with excitement.
I will not forget the look of joy on his face as long as I live. It was one of the most memorable moments I have ever experienced.
We could not stay for long because Tylor was too weak, but he held my hand for the rest of the meal and kept on looking at me and shaking his head with smiling eyes. I know if he could have found the words he would have given me all kinds of nonsense spearheaded by his incredible wit.
I spent a heartwarming, loving, wonderful weekend with Tylor and his family.
It was so incredibly hard to say goodbye to Tylor because I will probably not see him again until I surprise him once more, this time at the Pearly Gates.
As they say in Zulu, “Hamba kahle, ubhuti!” (Go with love, my brother.)
Posted by trevor at 05:41 PM | Comments (7)
September 13, 2005
On Being Ourselves
A few days ago I had a wonderful chat to a young cancer patient named Tatum. Tatum has lost her hair due to chemotherapy and she was telling me why she refuses to wear a wig.
“It’s not me,” she said. “I feel like I’m pretending to be someone else when I wear a wig and that makes me feel uncomfortable inside. Why can’t people just be themselves instead of trying so hard to make an impression on other people? ”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I said. “A lot of people set themselves up for failure because they try to emulate someone else like movie stars or models. It never works out because as much as you try, you are who you are and you can’t be someone else unless you’re a clone.”
“That’s so true. The funny thing is I can tell immediately when someone is being fake,” She replied. “It’s really obvious.”
My conversation with Tatum reminded me of a story my cousin Searle once told me:
It was about a teenage student who got a great job as a telephone sales person in a big computer company. Although it was only a summer job, the student had her sights set on working at the company after graduating from college. She decided that making her mark as an intern would give her a great chance of having a permanent job with the company.
She wanted to make a HUGE impression on her first day and took the opportunity to do so when she suddenly heard footsteps in the hallway outside her office. Without hesitation she grabbed the phone and pretended she was speaking to someone on the other end.
"Yes sir," the student said into the phone. "Twenty thousand dollars is a big order. I'm glad to be of service to you."
As she was speaking a man entered her office. She motioned for him to sit down. She continued talking on the phone.
The man sat down.
"Thank you for placing the order sir," she said into the phone and smiled at the man sitting in the chair. She lifted her finger and indicated that she wouldn’t be long. The visitor nodded and waited patiently.
She continued speaking on the phone. "Yes, I'm sure the company will be extremely happy with my performance. Twenty thousand dollars is a big order. Goodbye sir, and thanks again."
Replacing the phone, the student looked up at the man sitting across from her and said, "I'm very sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you?"
"I'm here to connect your phone said the man. "I'm from the telephone company and your line is disconnected. I'll have it up and running in two minutes, ready for your next deal."
Posted by trevor at 09:03 AM | Comments (2)
September 12, 2005
Comfort
My old Parker fountain pen was a good friend and a real comfort as I sat sketching at the Columbus airport this past weekend after a heart-wrenching goodbye.
Posted by trevor at 11:52 AM | Comments (2)
September 11, 2005
God Speed
Friend, my love and prayers are with you today as you spread your wings in preparation for your final flight.
Posted by trevor at 05:39 PM | Comments (0)
September 08, 2005
Going Out Of Town
It is with a heavy heart that I am on my way to say farewell to a young friend today. I will be back on Saturday with blogs about being swatted and chastised by an Amish lady with a rolled up USA Today and a story about a psychology professor from Armenia who, because of red tape is a cleaner at Chicago's Midway Airport.
Posted by trevor at 01:43 PM | Comments (1)
September 07, 2005
Helping Kids Deal With Disaster
During the past week, I have received a number of calls from parents asking if I had any advice on how they should talk to their children about the effects of hurricane Katrina.
I am currently writing a book for parents about guiding their children through tough times and thought now would be a good time to share my notes on how to help kids deal with disaster:
After September 11th, my niece who was six at the time, asked my sister for an easy reader Bible. “So, what is an easy reader Bible?” asked my sister.
“One with not so many words,” came the reply.
“What are you going to look for in the Bible?” asked my sister.
“I’m not going to look for anything, I just have to read it real quick,” said my niece, “because we’re all going to die.”
Children are often traumatized by tragic events reported in the daily news without parents even realizing it. A quick scan through any newscast or newspapers and you’ll see tragedy everywhere. As much as we try to shield children for the news, they still get information, (sometimes dangerously fractured and more damaging) from their friends and even teachers at school.
After the Tsunami disaster many schools had fund-raisers to help those in need. This brought even more awareness of the tragedy. What most schools and parents did not do was talk about the people who died, leaving many kids silently grieving with unanswered questions.
We cannot shield kids from all of the world’s tragic events, but we can help them understand these events, we can help them validate their feelings, give them extra reassurance and help them learn to deal with their fears and emotions.
Help your kids feel safe. Extra hugs, comfort, support and reassurance will make a huge difference. Children need to feel safe. To help them, you might explain that the odds of something happening to them are very small and that you will protect them to the best of your ability. A child may ask, "What about hurricanes, or terrorism, or tsunami’s?" You can answer: "The chance of our family being affected by a hurricane, or war or a tsunami is so tiny that we don't have to worry about it. There may be another hurricane, or a tornado, but this is a huge world with billions of people and chances are we’ll be safe."
Monitor your television watching. Most people don’t realize how much information children glean from television shows watched by their parents. Research indicates that even children in the next room receive exposure to news programs. Quit simply, if your kids are around, get your news from another source like the newspaper or the Internet. This will give you more control over what your child is exposed to.
Take care of yourself before you take care of your kids. If you are upset, chances are your children will be upset. To help your children feel secure, try to calm down and relax as much as possible before you discuss the events with them.
Look and Listen Use your eyes and your ears. Even before kids have the words to express what they are feeling, their bodies and actions give us clues. Watch for changes in behavior: withdrawing, fighting, crying, clinging, listlessness. Be prepared to listen to them when they are more likely to talk just before sleep, in the car, reading time, even when you’re making dinner. Be accessible at their chosen time because they might not want to access that information later when it might be more suitable for you to talk.
Help your kids express their feelings. Emoting is not easy, especially in a culture that values certain feelings and shuns others. To facilitate expression, you can ask a question or offer a suggestion. "Tell me about your feeling?" or, "You look like you might be feeling sad," or "I wonder if you are feeling scared." Remember, too, that anger, can often be disguised as fear and helplessness.
Ask open-ended questions like: "What else are you thinking about?" "How do you feel about that?" "How do you think those people feel?" This will encourage your children to explore more of their own thoughts. You can also just wait attentively for children to sort through what they want to say. Give them the gift of your time and attention.
Remember talking and expressing feelings is part of the healing process. It’s upsetting to see our children in the throes of fear or anger. In response, it may be tempting to try to distract them or cut short their expression of feelings. It is helpful to remember that positive (not hurtful) expression is the most empowering healing tool we have. Keeping feelings hidden inside only leads to confusion, misdirection, and poor health, not just for our children, but for us as well.
Posted by trevor at 03:48 PM | Comments (1)
September 05, 2005
Everyday Matters
I don’t often draw buildings, but in honor of my friend Danny Gregory’s birthday today, I drew this picture of New York where he lives.
Danny is truly inspiring and has touched thousands of people with his book Everyday Matters. In light of Hurricane Katrina, I am going to read the book again and I urge those looking for some kind of yes in this mess, to read along with me.
For more details about this remarkable individual and his insightful work please visit www.dannygregory.com
Happy Birthday Danny, I look forward to swapping ink, art and words with you for the next 45 years.
Posted by trevor at 11:37 AM | Comments (0)
September 04, 2005
Small Miracles
Tonight I am saying a small prayer of thanks for a friend of mine’s brother and his niece who were re-united yesterday after she went missing during Hurricane Katrina.
As the water subsides, may we begin to hear of more and more miracles like this one.
Posted by trevor at 06:26 PM | Comments (0)
Them Olden Days
I heard two boys today yelling at their mother in the mall. Gulp, yes I confess, I was at the mall.
One boy began to throw a tantrum because his mum would not buy him a computer game.
“You don’t need one,” she argued.
“Yes I do,” he wailed. “I’m bored.”
“But you have lots of games.”
“They’re boring.” He sniveled.
Ok fine!” she yelled, and stormed off to the counter to buy him the game.
“Yes!” he said behind his mother’s back, pumping his fist.
How times have changed. When I was that age, I remember playing with a bag of marbles for hours and hours and having a great time.
My family could not afford the extra cash for toys when we were kids so we played with marbles, coins, and best of all, cardboard boxes. To this day I love boxes!
We had a blast. I honestly think I am a writer today because I tapped into my imagination when I was a kid and I loved it so much I never let it go.
Posted by trevor at 09:45 AM | Comments (3)
September 02, 2005
Memorable Moments
It can happen in an instant. Life can change. We saw it happen when Hurricane Katrina punched New Orleans in the face and left it broken and bleeding.
It can happen in an instant. Life can change. We saw it happen in Iraq a few days ago when almost seven hundred women and children were killed in a stampede.
It can happen in an instant. Life can change. I saw it happen when my dad died suddenly six years ago.
It can happen in an instant. Life can change. I saw it happen when the landmine took my friend Howard Remington’s life at the tender age of nineteen on the Angolan border.
It can happen in an instant. Life can change. I saw it happen many years ago when my five year-old friend Rene died of cancer with her little hand resting in mine.
With this in mind, I have decided to record the one hundred most memorable moments in my life. (Like my father comforting me as a child after he lost his job. Above.)
I have a treasure chest of memories that I don’t ever want to forget. Valuable moments that make me who I am. I believe recording them will help to preserve these incredible building blocks upon which my precious life continues to grow.
Using words or pictures, I invite you to join me.
Posted by trevor at 07:48 AM | Comments (2)
September 01, 2005
…and shame on those
…and shame on those who turned their backs on their own suffering, devastated community, by looting.
Posted by trevor at 01:25 PM | Comments (2)
Hope
May those devastated by Hurricane Katrina rise from the wreckage with love, blessings and hope.
Posted by trevor at 07:23 AM | Comments (0)