A project of my heart

I wear a lot of hats, professionally: writer, publisher, copyeditor, developmental editor, proofreader, designer. While the writing I do is pure joy (even when I'm tearing my hair out), it's not often I get to use my skills on a project that is as near and dear to my heart as this one.

Before my aunt passed away in 2005, she wrote a book about her son, my cousin Rick, who was in a terrible motorcycle accident when he was a teenager (I was only 4 at the time and wasn't aware of everything 'til later), and his amazing life as they dealt and triumphed over his traumatic brain injury. She was unable to find a publisher for the book before she died, and my cousin Pam, Rick's sister, took up the mantle.

I'm proud beyond belief to be able to say that my publishing company, Soul's Road Press, can now announce the publication of this book. I did the editing and design, and a dear colleague proofread the book for free, and she and a colleague of hers assisted me with some of the computer stuff. (I can't thank them enough, I really can't.)

This book…it's not something I would normally pick up and read, and so I feel truly fortunate that I was a part of the publishing process for it, because it's amazing. I didn't know about everything that happened, especially in the early years. (Plus, as a kid, I just accepted my cousin for who he was, and thus never really saw how hard it was for him. He was my cousin who taught me to shoot pool, who was a fantastic photographer. So what if he sometimes struggled to find the right words? We've got time.) It moved me to tears, and I think that wasn't just because I'm related to these phenomenal people.

Thus, this book is also one of my Recommended Reads.

Without further ado, may I present...

No Horns, No Trumpets:
A Memoir of Brain Injury and Recovery
Alice D. Clark & Richard W. Clark

Once a normal day is lost, will it ever return? A reckless driver runs a stop sign and plows into a motorcycle. On that beautiful October day, a young mother’s life shatters as doctors tell her that her 15-year-old son will never come out of the coma. But when he does, the doctors are at a loss. No treatment plans for traumatic brain injury exist in 1970. But Alice Clark refuses to take no for an answer – knowing her son is a fighter, she brings Rick home. As his greatest champion, she uses her head and heart to guide him from sitting in a wheelchair to downhill skiing, from being unable to speak to writing and editing a monthly newsletter. In No Horns, No Trumpets, Alice and Rick tell their story of setbacks and successes with humor, honesty, and pathos.

About the Authors

Alice Clark tackled the challenge of her son Rick’s brain injury in 1970 and became an early advocate for traumatic brain injury. Active in several TBI organizations in Florida and New York, she and Rick traveled across New York and gave speeches on behalf of Think First, a program aimed at educating teenagers about brain injuries. For nearly thirty years, Alice continued to learn about TBI from personal experience, trial and error, and from the many professionals she met before she began work on No Horns, No Trumpets. She enjoyed golf, horseback riding, scuba diving, and downhill skiing, and took classes in painting, photography, bartending, and flying. She became a stockbroker in her 50s. Her uncanny ability to always see light at the end of the darkest of tunnels was a gift she generously shared with others.

Traumatic brain injury survivor Rick Clark’s competitive drive and desire to succeed thrived even after his motorcycle accident. Under his mother’s guidance, he finally found his niche when he began writing stories about his experiences with brain injury, and writing became his career. As the founding and current editor of the North Country Regional Traumatic Brain Injury Center’s newsletter, Sudden Impact, Rick writes heartfelt stories focusing on the positive aspects of life with brain injury and always extolling the many virtues of positive thinking. He enjoys public speaking and one day hopes to compile an collection of his stories.

Available in print and in a variety of electronic formats:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords

These three ladies changed our lives

Reader-peeps, I’d like to introduce you to three young women who changed our lives.

Literally. Because they saved Ken’s life.

This is Lexie, Cass, and Jessica. (And Ken, but you know him already.)

When Ken had his accident, they were the first people on the scene, on a remote, not-well-traveled road. Although they didn’t see the accident happen, they saw a cloud of dust they thought was a dust-devil…then saw the bike skidding down the road towards them, and Ken lying in the road.

They called 911. When emergency services asked what mile marker they were at, Jessica headed out to find the nearest one. (Do you pay attention to the last mile marker you passed? Neither do I!) Meanwhile, Lexie headed back to direct any traffic around Ken. And Cass sat with Ken and held his hand and talked to him until emergency services arrived.

We got Jessica’s contact info from the police report a few months ago and sent her a card with a picture of us and a letter thanking her. Soon after that Ken received an email from her and another from Cass. So when we knew we were going to be in Tahoe a few days, we contacted them to see if we could take them out to dinner. Happily, they were free, and we met them at a Thai restaurant near the hospital, and I ate when I was there in July (when I took more wonderful friends out to dinner to thank them for helping out). (The restaurant has the best crab rangoon appetizers I’ve ever had, and I love me some crab rangoon, so that’s saying something.)

Anyway. The ladies were as happy to meet Ken as we were to meet them, and to see that he was healing well. They filled in some of the details of the accident site for us, and we got to know them a bit, which was a true pleasure.

To say they’re awesome would be an understatement. I like to believe the best in people, that anyone would have stopped. (And indeed, we learned, more people did, including an EMT and a firefighter, both off-duty.) But these three not only stopped, but figured out what to do, worked well together, and stayed until Ken was in the ambulance. They believe things happen for a reason, and so do we.

Also, the experience inspired Cass to go back to school to become a paramedic herself. (I can’t think about that without tearing up. Excuse me while I flap my hands helplessly for a moment…. Okay. Deep breath. I’m back.)

Jessica, Cass, Lexie, dinner isn’t enough to truly show you how grateful we are to you. Nor is a simple thanks even close to enough. But, thank you, from our hearts.

Being in the moment: succeeded

We’re on the plane, headed home. We lucked out: We flew from Boise to SLC, and while we were waiting for our flight to Las Vegas (during a 2.5-hour layover), they asked for a volunteer to give up his/her seat—although that volunteer would get a seat on another flight leaving at the same time. Ken went up and offered to give up both our seats, but apparently there was only one seat available on the other flight. We pondered splitting up, because I’m flying Delta every time I got to Atlanta (which has been every other month since December, with the exception of August—and I’m going out at the end of September), and a free flight would be a nice boon.

But then the gate attendant came back and got our boarding passes and put us in first class…although, he said, hold one, what about a direct flight home? Since we had another 2.5-hour layover in Vegas, we perked up. The result was a direct flight that gets us in at 6 pm instead of nearly 9 pm. So we’ll have more time tonight to unpack, do laundry, sort mail, etc. Oh, and we also got two $10 food vouchers, so we picked up sandwiches for dinner (or perhaps lunch tomorrow, since there’s a scrummy Thai place we like to stop at on our way home from the airport).

Another happy thing today: in Boise, there was a young, pretty wife waiting at our gate for the flight coming in—bringing her husband back from Afghanistan. Her two friends were with her with cameras; she had a big sign. When he came out, she flew into his arms and he picked her right up. We all applauded. Sniffle.

So, let’s see. Yesterday we four went back into downtown Boise in search of tapas, and oh, the tapas we found! Croquetas, meatballs, skewers of cheese/sausage/olives, sandwiches (I had cheese, I forget what kind, and green olive tapanade; Ken’s had ham on it), cold tomato/bread soup, and Ken had the mushroom paté. I did not have fungus smeared on toast, thankyouverymuch. But the rest of it, oh, so good!

We wandered around for a bit—I wanted to check out a bookstore, which was a fantastic little place with both new and used books, and children’s and YA SFF split out into their own sections. Ken and Pauline each bought a book, and I marveled at how many OWNers’ names I saw. At an outdoor-goods store, E&P bought something they needed.

Then we caught a taxi to the nature center, which had these nifty under-stream viewing areas where you could see the fish, etc. Also, there were lots of birds, and inside the building there was an open plastic tub and a handwritten sign explaining that George the snake (who was harmless) had gotten out, and if you find him, please return him to the tub. Heh. Pauline was happy not to encounter George, but I was kinda bummed we didn’t find him.

The nature center borders the riverwalk, and we decided that it was such a beautiful day (sunny, mild, with a breeze that felt soft against my skin) that we’d walk the 3 miles back to the hotel. Along the way we saw ducks and a gorgeous hawk (although, alas, no otters). We pondered stopping at the zoo, but we were all a little too tired for that. We did, however, stop at Joe’s Crab Shack for much-needed margaritas and appetizers.  ;-)  Frozen margaritas = Slushies for adults. Ahhhh…

Back at the hotel, E&P did laundry and we tidied up for the finish banquet, where we drank wine, Ernie won the award for most helpful tech guy (Ken won it a few years ago), and we learned that next year’s CCR would be held in Duluth, MN. A bunch of folks descended upon our groovy 70s suite to behold its groovitude and hang out drinking and laughing for a while, before we all poured ourselves into our respective beds.

I hadn’t realized until I got to Boise how badly I needed a vacation. I thought I’d have more time to get a little work done (if only attacking the email backlog), but I’m okay that I didn’t. I needed to make “I’m on vacation” the priority on my schedule, and between the river, the friends, the new nifty experiences (like the Penitentiary, which did spark a few story ideas), and just walking barefoot in the grass, I succeeded.

Back to work and “normal life” this week (at least for part of it!), but I’m facing it refreshed and recharged.  :-)

Making the world a smaller and cozier place

You know what makes me happy? Having friends all over the world, and being able to connect with them—and connect them with each other—because of this wondrous modern technology called the Internet.

Example #1: There’s a chewable antacid that’s available only in Britain. I contacted a friend there and asked if she could send me some. The first time, in exchange I bought and shipped some shampoo for her father that’s available here but not in Britain. This time, she noted that the kind he really needs is a combination of the two kinds that are available here…and the combo kind is available in Australia. So I contacted a friend in Australia and asked if she could buy and ship the shampoo to my friend in Britain, and I’d pay her. My friend in Australia countered with the request that I pick up some perfume for her, which is only available in the US. Isn’t this the coolest thing? We all get the item we want, that we can’t get in our home country. We all get to help each other out.

Example #2: A friend commented (on Facebook, maybe? I can’t remember now) that she’d found a great knitting pattern for socks but the site was in Finnish. And I said, yo, I used to live in Drachenwald. Let me ping some SCA folks there and see if they know anyone who (a) speaks Finnish and (b) knits. (I’m sure I met some lovely Finns when we lived over there, but I didn’t keep in touch with any of them.) And then, voila! I got an e-mail from a lovely woman (whose name does sound very familiar) who also happens to be on Ravelry, which my friend is on…so I pointed the two of them at each other.

When it works, it works. I love how it’s made the world a smaller and cozier place. I miss my friends in Britain and Australia as well as all over the US (and other parts of the world), but I don’t feel like they’re quite as far away.

The goodness again

(Picture from the concert, looking back at the masses of people...)

So I’m sitting at the departure gate, and a little boy in front of me—8 maybe? (I’m crap at judging ages)—spills a cup of water all over himself. I missed the actual spillage, just looked up to see the cup upside down on the ground and a rather morose expression on his face. Now, I have this thing about wasting unused napkins, and you never know when you’re going to need a napkin—like when you forget to pick up a couple when you buy your food and now you’ve got mayo on your face, or, like now, when you manage to fling your drink onto yourself. So I hauled out a handful and gave them to his dad. A moment later I heard the kid giggling with pure delight as his dad blotted his shirt from the inside (maybe it tickled?).

Then, as I was in line to board the plane, they called my name. Turns out I’d dropped my driver’s license. I boarded with a quiet sense of See, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Same kind of thing at the show yesterday. There was a teenage girl in a wheelchair, a big Styx fan, and it was the first time she was seeing them. There was space next to me, so her dad maneuvered her in there, and I helped block random drunken idiots. The drummer for Eddie Money made a point of giving a drumstick to a security guard to hand to her, which I thought was awesome. I basically used my “You guys love me” fu to get her stuff from the band: First Lawrence’s water bottle (which he apparently wanted me to pour on myself; guess I looked sweaty. Or he has a shower fetish. Let’s go with the latter.) and then a Polaroid (making it clear it was for her), then a pick from Ricky. Made me happy. Well, happier, because being at a Styx show is just shy of pure nirvana for me.

And quite frankly, I need all of this. September was an unequivocally craptastic month on every front. I wrote an entry about it but I think I’m not going to post it. Release and move on. I may end up talking about pieces here and there, as I try to work through some of it. (Like the conviction that I’m somehow a bad friend, because for the second, or possibly third, time this year we’ve not been invited to a party hosted by people I thought were pretty good friends.)

Onwards.

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So I was waiting in LAX to fly to PHX two days ago, and I checked my daily Tarot reading via the iTarot app on my phone, and it said “The jig will be coming up.” How beautifully apropos!

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Why do I only drink orange juice when I’m on a plane?

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Now Animotion’s “Obsession” is stuck in my head. Why? REO’s “Don’t Let Him Go” was far preferable. (Although you can’t really be annoyed by lyrics like “My fantasy has turned to madness/And now my goodness has turned to badness.”)

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So, I have one day at home (plus this evening) before we leave for Great Western War on Wednesday. Of course we haven’t even begun to pack, which is a stressor right now. (One of our three meals is cooked and frozen, and Ken was in charge of the second while I was gone, so that’s something.) Still, I’m looking forward to it. A friend is getting his Pelican (highest-level award for service, and he deserves it in spades) and there will be friends to see and hug and laugh with. On a more somber note, there’ll be a memorial for an amazing, incredible woman who died last week. She touched the lives of everyone, and she was taken far too young, and I’m struggling with feeling angry at the universe for it.

We have to come home halfway through the war (which is about two and a half hours away) to give the cats subcutaneous fluids (and I’m also going to have a chiro appt), but I’m grateful that Eostre no longer needs twice-daily subcu fluids.

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Starting our descent into LAX. Must go!