Dear Jimmy

Well, after a year and 4 months, I've come to the conclusion that ice cream and cookies aren't a very good substitute for your phone calls. All I've gotten out of the deal is 15 extra pounds on my 5'2" frame. I'm beginning to resemble my Italian heritage!

I read a really funny book called "The Nonrunner's Marathon Guide for Women: Get Off Your Butt and On with Your Training" by Dawn Dais. It was hysterical and motivated me to, well, get off my butt and get on with my training! I've tried to get other people to run a marathon with me, including your wife, but they all sort of politely blow me off. So I guess it's just you and me bro. Strap on those running shoes, because we're going to do the Rochester half-marathon this September and then we're going to try and get a spot in the Disney marathon. That's 26.2 miles - I certainly hope you're up to it. Lord knows, I'm going to need your support as my natural state is lazy-ass. You'll remember that my "sport" of choice in high school was cheerleading. And that was when the word was literal - leading cheers. None of this back flip, jump from the top of a ten-person pyramid shit.

I picked the Disney marathon for us because the metal is totally cool - it's of Mickey Mouse. Doesn't that just seem like a metal we'd want? I can see us now: "Yeah, we're bad asses. We ran a MARATHON! Here's our Mickey Mouse metal to prove it!" as we laugh about how funny the Mickey metal is. Plus that's the one I was trying to talk you into training for before you got sick. You had what I thought was an excuse about being too tired. I'm sorry that I didn't realize it was more than just having a brand new baby. Kirsten is going to design me a T-shirt with your MyFaceBig on it to run in.

Mom bought me a new MP3 player for Christmas for us to listen to as we run an insane amount of miles. I put some Pearl Jam, Linkin' Park, and Nickelback on it. Probably not your favorites, but Mark says he believes the "angst" music helps me run out my anger. (And I'm still pretty angry.) But don't worry, I've got some pop-y stuff on there for you too - Katy Perry's Hot and Cold, The Racontours' Steady as She Goes, and Fergie's Glamorous. Oh and the Dixie Chicks! "Jude - who the hell is this???" :-)

I'm already up to 5.5 miles and can run/jog 72 minutes without my lungs or legs exploding, so if you need to hang back a bit to catch up to me it's okay. Just float along side and keep me company. You can chat at me - I don't mind. My thoughts are usually filled with you when I run anyways. It'd be nice to hear your voice.

I miss you lots and lots.
Love - Jude

Poetry

So I'm not a poet. I hate poetry. I just don't get it. It's annoying. This, however, was there when I woke up this morning. It was just all there in my head. It was like I was listening to someone else say the words over and over again until I got up and wrote it down. I've been dreaming very strange dreams lately. This I believe was my dreams that spilled over into my waking consciousness. Oh...and one last thing. I read Sarah's Key - a very good, very upsetting book about Jewish children in France during WWII. Perhaps my choice of reading material needs to be lighter.

Two worlds collide.
As nature tries to push them apart,
Love builds a house between the two worlds.
Bricks and mortar span the gap.
Nature rests.
Small ones exist between the two worlds as if it's one.
People forget...
Two different worlds.

An explosion.
She is knocked unconscious.
When she wakes, she is surrounded by rubble.
She tries to move.
Pain.
So much pain.
She steadies herself.
Looks around.

There are others.
She hears them, but dares not look.
She scans the world around her for shelter.
The house still stands.
She sees it has been knocked off its foundation.
Pushed back slightly from her world.
But it stands!
Its lights are dim.

She begins to walk towards the house.
She hears the others follow.
She knocks tentatively at the door.
A woman peeks out of the window, but does not answer.
Curtains are still as if the woman was never there.
She knocks again.
Louder this time.
The woman still does not answer.

She peeks in the window.
She see the mirrors are draped in black.
She summons her strength.
She calls the woman's name.
The air moves slightly.
The woman pulls back the door.
The woman gasps,
Recoils in horror.

She asks if they can come in.
She and the others.
Away from the devastation in their world.
The woman says "No."
"Please" she says, "It's cold and dark."
"I'm sorry" says the woman, "I can't."
The woman softly closes the door.
She hears the click of the lock, and what she believes are sobs.

Her tears fall.
She hears them behind her.
They are whispering to her.
"What did the woman say?"
She wipes her tears and turns to face them.
She averts her eyes from their faces to keep from crying.
The woman said "No."
"Why?" they whisper.

She sighs.
"I don't know" she says, "I'm sorry."
She looks up, into their eyes.
She sees the indescribable pain.
She wants to recoil. She understands.
She straightens up despite her wounds.
"Come" she says, "I will find us shelter."
They take her hands.

They turn to walk away.
They hear the ground move.
They look back to see the house shift.
Just a bit farther away from their world.
They hesitate.
She tugs at their hands.
She says "We'll come back. I promise."
They turn and walk with her.

She is all they have left.

Oh my gosh! I did my job.

I can't believe it. I've spent the last 16 1/2 years flailing around trying to figure out how to raise a "good kid." There are those absolute rare times in the life of a parent when you hear your child say to someone "Thank you very much." without you needing to smack them in the back of the head to force the words out their mouth. But for the most part, you get very little feedback and are down on your knees praying most of the time you've done something...anything...to raise them right.

So I was thrilled this weekend when my daughter finished reading a book that she'd also seen the movie, and she said to Mark and me "The book was just so much better! There was so much detail that wasn't in the movie." Then we proceeded to have a wonderful (although short) discussion about the advantages of books over movies.

Holy cow! In a world of instant 24/7 electronic short-attention-span entertainment, I raised a READER. I'm ecstatic - books will take my "baby" places that a non-reader never gets to go. They will help her develop thoughts and opinions some people don't even know are available to them.

When I look back, I am so impressed again
with the life-giving power of literature.
If I were a young person today, trying to gain a sense of
myself in the world, I would do that again by reading,
just as I did when I was young.
~ Maya Angelou ~

Life is good today. I think I'll sit back with my feet up for a little bit. Tomorrow we'll start worrying about the Spring SATs.

Nicknames?

Did you have a nickname for Jimmy? I'm going to have a technical running shirt customized to wear during races. My idea is to have "MyHeadBig" (you'll find it on this blog) laid on top of the colon cancer blue ribbon. The words Remembering Jim above his head, then "Marvelous" Marventano below. Around it, Kate and I thought it would be neat to put the names everyone called him. So far, we have:

Lambchop
Daddy
Jimmy
Uncle Jim
Jim Bo
Bo
James Robert
Ojibwa
Jimmers

If you've got other nicknames, please post. I'd like to include them. When I'm done, I'll post the graphic for all to see. Thanks!!!

Why me?

I watched the Barbara Walters special last night with her interview of Patrick Swayze. Cancer patients and their families need support. Often we find comfort in the stories of other patients and their families. How are they coping? What are their treatments? What are their feelings? It's all part of not wanting to face the beast alone. I don't remember the exact question Barbara asked Patrick, but I do remember a paraphrasing of his answer "Yes I get angry. Yes I ask WHY ME?!"

I struggle with that a lot. Not necessarily, why me, but why Jim, why us? Cancer doesn't just affect the patient - everyone who loves the patient is in the battle. And then, if or when cancer finally takes the patient, everyone who loves the patient is still left battling the aftermath of the beast. Trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered life.

Kate told me about a book - it's all quotes of people summing up their lives in six words. She asked friends what their six words would be. Mine came to me very quickly "I played it by the rules." I played it by the rules...I played it by the rules...

I've always been a rule-follower. I discovered very early that if I learned what expectations were and I beat them, praise followed. Here's documented proof from 1973 -

I have a stack of these things from my childhood. Plus more awards once I got in high school. I went to church and fully participated in the youth group for YEARS. I didn't do drugs. Once I started working, my performance reviews were always outstanding. I was like Pavlov's dogs - work hard, pat on the back, Judi salivates. My life is jam packed full of reaching for perfection.

Which leads to "And what did it get me?" What did it get me? What the hell did it get me!

Following the rules, didn't keep my brother from getting and dying from colon cancer. Which makes all those years looking for my next "kudos fix" look like such a waste of time. Religion didn't help either. But having read the bible all the way through several times (my childhood best friend was the minister's daughter) and looking at the state of affairs in the world then and now, I don't know why I thought it would have helped. They definitely clean God all up for Sunday School.

I wish I could go back to believing that life is simple - you follow the rules, good things happen. I want to take all my "Good Guy" coupons from the 2nd grade and trade them in exchange for a cure for cancer. Then I want to take all the effort I put in over the years trying to get those pats on the back for a job well done, and exchange it for a time machine. I want to load up the machine with cancer patients including Jim and transport them to the cure.

Life isn't simple...or fair, for a lot of people. I'd venture to guess that it isn't fair for a good majority of people. I can't change my past focus and efforts, but I can alter my behavior going forward. Instead of trying to be perfect, I think from now on I'll focus my energy on letting those I care about know that I love them. I was lucky - Jim knew I loved him. And in the end, that really was all that mattered.