I also have some of the videos that were shared...
This is the continuing story of Teddytoy and my family. Remember to Pay It Forward.. Some links may take you to adult material...if you aren't mature enough please move on.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Jeremy ... Six years later.
It's been quite a while since I've posted here.. Today is the sixth anniversary of my nephew Jeremy's death. Jeremy was a very special part of the family and his community. He was a big brother and oldest son .. he was a band member and was very popular at school. I don't have any new pictures or videos but I do want to share the ones I have.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Thanksgiving 2014
This is a short video that says a lot. Listen then realize that the young person who wrote and speaks this is only 5 at the time. His name is Matty J.T. Stepanek.
Have a great Thanksgiving Everyone!!
Friday, July 18, 2014
Four years ago today an Angel called a 16 year old Boy named Jeremy Gomez home.He had had a very difficult few months ... first needing a liver transplant then finding he had leukemia.He went from a happy, very involved teen in Early march to laying in a bed in a hospital in South Florida, surrounded by family and friends.
Jeremy loved Music and Things Purple and participating in 'educational' videos.
Death came in the silence of the nighta knock sending fear to the boneHe came looking for me alonehis ride had only room for one.Better to leave this place,and live now Forever.Stand not at my grave and weepFor I’m the wind that stirs your soulLook not for me for I’m not thereI’m the glint in flakes of snowI’m the cool shower on April mornIn the hush of nights silent airI’m the rush that that fills your soulStand not at my grave and weepFor I’m not deadI’m with you at your sideWhen you feel the wind blowI’m the sweet uplifting rush.Look to the northI’m the Glimmering starCry not for mefor I’m eternally yours.
Glimmering Star ©2003 Sleepybear Productions
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Happy 20th, Jeremy!
Happy 20th Jeremy!!
Twenty years ago today a child was born who brought all of the normal joys and challenges of being a boy to his parents. He made them very happy at times and at others .. not so much. Typical for a growing boy.
As he grew, he developed a love of music and learned to play some instruments. He was even good enough to play in his school band.
He had a huge smile that effected everyone who met him. He loved to travel and be with his friends. He was very popular.
A short time after his 16th birthday.. that all changed. After a brief illness he lost a short fight with leukemia. Everything seemed to happen so fast. One day a vibrant teen in high school ... then he was gone!
We are approaching the fourth anniversary of that horrible event.
His Family and Friends are remembering him and that time.
Today he would have been 20.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Jake Bugg - Broken on the Graham Norton Show
This young man has one of the most unique sounds that I've ever heard. He's only 19 and I feel has a tremendous future. Take a few minutes and enjoy......
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Jeremy Gomez....Three years ago This week...
Thursday, June 27, 2013
PVA and the 33 rd National Veterans Wheelchair Games
Tampa has a huge sporting event coming July 13-18. But No one is taking any interest in it. The only Sport organization to support it is the Yankees. Not ONE local team is. It's the 33rd National Veterans Wheelchair Games. They need all of the support they can get and can use volunteers.They will bring thousands of visitors to the area. .. These are disabled Veterans .. and deserve support!
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Shane Burcaw is the young man in the chair ... he just turned 21 and has a rare form of MS that is slowly killing him. He will be on Katie's show today Jun 20 at 3 PM .. or visit his Blog at http://laughingatmynightmare.1000notes.com to read his story and follow in his adventures. He is a tremendous guy with a huge smile.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
This is Interesting ....
Here is a story that is a bit familiar. It takes a few minutes to watch.. but it is well worth it.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Richard Blanco ... Gay poet at the Inauguration
"One Today"
by Richard Blanco
One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.
My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper -- bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives -- to teach geometry, or ring up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches
as mothers watch children slide into the day.
One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.
The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind -- our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.
Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across cafe tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello, shalom,
buon giorno, howdy, namaste, or buenos dias
in the language my mother taught me -- in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.
One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn't give what you wanted.
We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always -- home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country -- all of us --
facing the stars
hope -- a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it -- together
One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.
My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper -- bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives -- to teach geometry, or ring up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches
as mothers watch children slide into the day.
One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.
The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind -- our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.
Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across cafe tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello, shalom,
buon giorno, howdy, namaste, or buenos dias
in the language my mother taught me -- in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.
One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn't give what you wanted.
We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always -- home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country -- all of us --
facing the stars
hope -- a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it -- together
Friday, January 4, 2013
A Long Ten Months...
Ten months ago I was greeted at my front door by a local Sherif's Deputy with one of the most pathetic looking young men in tow. He brought Joshhy to us, straight from the Hospital. After being beaten, shot and robbed.
After 10 months of hospital and doctors visits not to mention courts, Joshhy has reached some of his goals.. He has a full time job, he begins college in a few days, and he will be moving into his own place. He may need more surgery on his arm in a few months, but he is doing great. He still needs surgery on his ear as he has permanent damage to it and reduced hearing.
It's been a 10 month learning and growing experience for him. He is definitely not the same young man he was a year ago. Today he is confident and stronger and more positive than ever. He has set goals and is gradually reaching them. When asked how he is doing.. he responds "I'm alive" with a smile.
I've never felt prouder of him!
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Merry Christmas to Our Family!
Here's a Very Special Merry Christmas to our Special Friends!
Ric, Joshhy, & William
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