My Blog Post for Michael Iannuzzi

I didn’t know Michael C. Iannuzzi.  I never met him.  But I knew who he was to my husband, and I went to his funeral.  The funeral was several weeks ago, and afterwards, I asked Tom if I could write a blog post about him.  Tom said yes and then asked me about it a few times afterwards, but I couldn’t seem to get the words down on paper. 

See, I didn’t even know him.  But I found out all kinds of things about him at his funeral.  He was about 30 years old.  He attended family baptisms and birthday parties.  He was a really big guy.  He liked to wrestle.  He was funny.  He talked to his mom almost every day.  He cared about people.  He was a really good friend.  He was terribly messy and a creative cook.  He had an infectious smile.  He had HUNDREDS of friends.  He was doing what he loved to do.  He was loved. 

Mike and Tom were childhood friends.  Practically inseparable.  Tom fondly remembers the time that he and Mike were fighting in the car, so his mom told them to get outside and fight it out.  When Mike (remember, I said he was a really big guy…) jumped out of the car to get ready, Tom immediately retracted and apologized.  He was no idiot to fight Mike Ianuzzi.  And while I think about it, Tom’s mom was no idiot when she figured out how to solve the fighting issue in the back of the car. 

But, as we all know too well, life goes on and things change.  Tom wasn’t part of Mike’s every day anymore – but when he passed away suddenly, Tom was shocked.  And affected.  And sad.  He wondered if Mike’s family would be angry with him, if they would accept him.  He wondered if Mike was angry with him before he died.  He wondered if he should have reconnected with Mike or said the things left unsaid.  He wondered if he should have apologized to Mike.  He wondered if he had done the right thing.  Tom asked himself these questions – he asked me these questions.  Of course, we don’t know the answers. 

But I do know that this answered some of those questions:  when Tom walked into the funeral parlor, he put his arm on Mike’s brother’s shoulder.  Mike’s brother, James, turned around.  And when he saw Tom standing there, he had a burst of emotion that I’m not sure how to describe.  It was shock, disbelief, relief, happiness, sadness, all rolled into one – but not anger.  In that instance, Tom’s relationship to the family meant more than the last few years of silence.  Tom’s relationship with Mike meant more than later mistakes that were made.  Tom represented something to James – a piece of Mike’s life.  A piece of who Mike was.  I wish I could describe it better than this, but this is all I can say.  Mike’s family welcomed Tom with sorrowful hearts and open arms. 

James gave Tom a small piece of paper that he had found in Mike’s desk.  In that piece of paper was a picture of Joe, Tom’s brother.  On that piece of paper, he wrote about Joe and his death.  Mike had truly struggled to make sense of Joe’s death, as we are all now struggling to make sense of this one.  Regardless of what had happened between Tom and Mike later in life, they both still cared about each other.  That meant the world to Tom. 

If I’ve learned anything at all in life (which is questionable), it’s that there may not be any sense to be had.  We lost another good one.  And there seems to be no way to make sense of it.  No rhyme, reason, or secret code. 

I sat in the back of the funeral parlor and couldn’t hold back the tears as I listened to people talk about the person that he was. The person that I would never get to meet.  The person who was so very important to Tom when he was young.   I can’t say that I’ll miss Mike Ianuzzi – but I can say that I will miss the opportunity to know him. 

And I’m grateful that I got a chance to hear about the person that he was. 

I guess death always makes us think about life.  Life always seems to get so complicated.  We do things and say things we might end up regretting later.  We seem to be left with these haunting questions – did I do enough?  Did I say enough?  Did they really know how I felt?  So for today, I’m just going to think about these things a little longer and leave it at that. 

Oh.  One more thing:  Thank you, Mike.  You are missed by people who never even knew you. 

Our world...

It just occurred to me that tonight I had dinner in Sri Lanka with someone who is Indian and his daughter who became American, speaking English, eating Chinese food, with a bottle of Italian wine. 

Our world is amazing sometimes, isn't it? 

More Kindness...

So for those of you who haven't heard from me lately, it's because I'm in Sri Lanka.  Which I'll blog about a little later.  For right now, I thought I would blog about the day I left for Sri Lanka.  You'll see why in the end.

So leaving for work trips is kind of stressful.  Trying to finish everything that I need to get done before I go and making sure I don't forget anything important.  I found myself awake at 5:30 am because Wagner agreed to give me a ride to the office on the way to work. 

At 6:15 am I found myself outside of Tom's car parked outside my office with the keys locked in the car.  With the car running.  Shockingly, this was actually more Wagner's fault than mine...but nevertheless, there we were.  So we had to wait about 30 minutes outside before AAA came to our rescue.  (Good service, by the way...who knew?)  I'm beginning to think my black cloud is now following my husband as well. 

After this fiasco, I went about my business and had a meeting at 8am.  A breakfast meeting, which are the best kind of meetings, if you ask me.  Towards the end of the meeting, Karen was getting ready to leave for another meeting.  I was watching a man who had walked in.  He looked sort of out of it.  But honestly, he looked nice.  He didn't say anything. The man behind the counter saw him and said, "Just a minute."  The man behind the counter waited on the other people in line.  I dawdled putting my coat on and kept watching.  The man behind the counter scooped up some grits and handed it to the other man. I had to leave - the others were waiting for me. 

Later in the day, it was raining.  I had to go to the bank to cash a check.  As I was walking through puddles, I first stopped at the CVS.  I saw a man outside of the CVS asking for some money.  I said, "Sorry" and kept walking into the store.  On the way out, he called after me, "Have a blessed day."  I realized I was walking the wrong way so turned around and saw a woman handing him a bag of items.  I wasn't sure what was in the bag except saw a bottle of water.  He thanked her profusely, she smiled and walked away.  

So now I'm thinking.  Wow, Miller.  You had two opportunities today to help out a stranger.  But you were too busy being pissed off about how the rain had made the bottom of your jeans wet.  Seriously - am I that busy?  Is my life that important?  Most definitely not. 

So I'll call this a lesson learned - or two lessons learned.  And maybe next time I'll be better. 

Guest Blog: Nicki Adams

In order to preface this entry, I should add a few things:

1) In this photo, Nicki & I inspired many people in Botswana to revisit the 80s. 

2) I'm really looking forward to my vegan meal from Nicki. 

3) Enjoy...

I’m not a blogger.  In fact, I read my first blog when Miller started the whole shenanigans (and then I spent ½ a day reading every blog I could click on).  She’s like that-getting into shit.  It keeps us all on our toes. 

Speaking of Miller shenanigans…”vegan curious”?  Now, normally if someone I know is vegan/vegetarian/gluten free or whatever the guts determine is best for his/her body, I’m cool with it.  Maybe even supportive.  But when Miller posts on Facebook that  she’s vegan curious, I had an irrationally strong reaction against it but I clearly was not alone!  I talked about it with my husband, friends and coworkers and most thought it to be a little strange that a wholesome Midwestern girl would quit all the good things in life (a hamburger, ice cream, pizza, cheese, etc- I mean, while you’re at why don’t you just quit PBR too, Miller?!) cold turkey but they also thought my strong anti-vegan-miller-campaign was weird. 

A few weeks into Amanda’s new adventure we had an iphone face to face chat where Amanda pulled out a gigantic soap box and proceeded to bombard my impressionable husband with vegan “facts.”  Shockingly, I stayed quiet.  I figured my best approach would be to play dead and it would eventually stop. It worked but I thought, shit- she’s in full force.  Is this what DC has done to my BFF?  I hope it doesn’t stick! 

So, why the hell do I care if Miller orders her burrito without cheese or a boca burger instead of a hamburger or skips dessert?  I shouldn’t and it doesn’t affect me, really.  But when I was trying to understand my own irrational response I decided that it just doesn’t fit her.  I mean, it’s like tailgating without beer; it’s like the packers playing in stilettos, it’s like …. I don’t know. 

In an effort to bring it all back to the blog theme, I’m going to change my tune about my BFF’s vegan curious lifestyle.  I’m going to extend a little kindness and make a vegan recipe when she comes to visit and I’m going to TRY to be nice about it. 

Something Nice

Some of you might recall from a previous blog post that I owe the world a favor, and so I decided that I should do something really nice for a complete stranger.  I’ve come to realize that this is a really hard thing to do.  I mean, of course, you can always donate to your favorite charity or support a cause.  But to do something nice specifically for someone that you actually see with your own eyes – that’s different. 

When I was in Madison, I was walking along State Street with my nephews.  I stopped to pick up a towel that a man dropped and handed it back to him.  He looked up at me and said thanks.  Zach asked me why I did that, and I responded, “Because he dropped it.”   The man looked a little disheveled, somewhat dirty, and appeared to be carrying all of his belongings in a backpack.  I figured that whatever made the cut to be in the backpack at that point must be important.  Besides, he dropped it.  So I picked it up. 

But I don’t think that counts. It wasn’t something “really nice” for someone. 

Tom and I went to the cherry blossom festival last weekend in DC, and we decided to buy some soft pretzels as a snack.  Yum.  There was a woman in front of us ordering hot dogs or something, and she appeared to be very put out by the fact that there were no “grilled onions.”  Or maybe it was that she had to put the raw onions on herself, I wasn’t quite sure.  Regardless, there was an awful lot of sarcasm and eye-rolling going on.  She was essentially, non-verbally, telling the woman behind the counter that she was really stupid.  Man, she was so irritated.  Over a hot dog.  So when it was our turn to order, I smiled nicely and ordered nicely and said thank you – nicely. 

I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count either.  So I’ll keep trying. 

Incidentally, my mom sent me this video today, so I thought I’d share: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hzgzim5m7oU&feature=player_embedded

green thumbs...

Here I present Tom's small-space make-do garden.  Here's how I know that Tom might need more wide open spaces.  Green spaces.

He found scrap wood laying around the neighborhood and built himself a little garden for our miniscule city-sized backyard.  (Yes, we're lucky to have a back yard in DC!)  So now we can look forward to tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and more....amazing. 

It makes me think, though.  How some people are just like that - resilient in every way.  If you don't have a backyard that's big enough to plant a garden to your liking, find a way to build one.  If you don't like something, change your attitude about it. I am most definitely much less like this, so I'm very glad that I have my husband.  If I wanted a garden and didn't have the space for it, I'd probably pout about it for about a few days feeling bad for myself and eating a whole lot of ice cream.  So Tom makes me question my own assumptions and attitudes and actions in a way like no other.  I consider myself to be very lucky.

And I'm also looking forward to those fresh veggies... 

Lessons learned: Superheroes and Good Manners

This past weekend, I had the honor and privilege of spending time with my brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews (age 3 and 5...well almost 6).  I tried to think of a good way to capture my weekend, so I thoguht I'd share some of my lessons learned.  Enjoy! 

Nothing is better than a good nap. 

Music makes people happy. 

Roald Dahl is practically a genius.

If your bowling ball makes it all the way down the lane, that’s reason enough to clap, bust a move, and cheer very loudly. 

Kids are most definitely smarter than we are.  Or at the very least, more intuitive. 

Manners are important. 

Being quiet stinks.

Being clean stinks more. 

Kids listen to everything adults say.  Even the stuff when you think they’re not listening. 

We should all always wear our seatbelts.

As long as people can understand what you’re saying, you’re golden.

You can learn very important lessons from dragons. 

Never take your 5-year-old into an ice cream shop “just to use the bathroom.” 

What you do is more important than what you say. 

We should all aim to be superheroes.  (In case you’re wondering, my superhero name is Rainbow Girl.) 

If you’re going to take a poop in your pants, lock yourself in the closet first. 

There’s nothing like a bedtime story. 

There’s also nothing like a nap.  Did I say that already?