Why I Don't Loathe the Yankees...Today.

Dear Yankees fans,

It's nothing personal.  Really, it isn't.

Please understand I wish you no ill will, it's just that I'd rather be blanketed in Hudson River toxic waste than see the Yankees win another World Series championship.

To understand my disdain for your beloved team, I must talk about MINE.  It's 1996.  I was a marketing intern for the Texas Rangers, which was a dream come true since I grew up watching my favorite team with my father.  In '96, Texas earned their first playoff appearance, and we were told if the Rangers made it to the series, and won it, ALL front office staff would get a ring.

Of course, we lost to New York Yankees.  It happened again in 1998.  And again in 1999.  I cried in '96, had an upset stomach in '98 and was downright angry in '99.

And so, the birth of my venom for one of the most storied franchises in all of sports took root, and I've never found the antidote.

But I must give respect where respect is due.

Today in New York, the Yankees (as well as all of Major League Baseball) honored the victims of Newtown, Connecticut.  In addition, some of the town's first responders were asked to be the color guard during pre-game ceremonies.  It was classy - it was just cool.

"It was really great to honor the victims that we lost.  Its affected the entire community, especially us as police officers.  For the Yankees to step up and do this for us, we really do appreciate it," said Officer Matt Hayes from the Newtown Police Department.

Fifty thousand fans put down their peanuts and Cracker-Jacks and stood silent as the names of the fallen scrolled on the "JumboTron" above center field.  I was standing next to the visitor's dugout, and as I gazed out onto the crowd, I was amazed at how a usually thunderous fan base was so still.

"It's emotional," said Officer William Chapman, also with the department.  "I keep the families, the teachers, the students in my mind when things like this are happening."

I even heard on the radio that superstar shortstop Derek Jeter allowed the family of lost teacher Victoria Soto to use his luxury suite.  Classy.  Cool.

Tomorrow, I will resume my disgust for the evil empire, hoping that baseball Commissioner Bud Selig hands down a rule that any Yankee with a vowel in his name is unable to play.

Never again will I be proud of the Yankees.

Until July 7th.

The team has dubbed that date "Newtown Day at Yankee Stadium," where more than three thousand members of the community are expected to attend.

Classy.  Cool.

Man, I can't stand you guys.

A Wallet, An Attitude Adjustment, and a "Thank You."

I had a lump in my throat, my stomach turned sour, and my heart was racing.

Where was my wallet?

I was enjoying a visit of the “Harlem Globetrotters” with my five-year-old son at Hartford’s “XL Center” when I realized it was gone.  Credit and health insurance cards, my driver’s license -- were all lost – or stolen.

When I came home, I gave my wife the “woe is me” sob story and she quickly provided insight that changed my attitude completely.

“Remember the news assignment you did yesterday,” she said.  “Your wallet?  Small potatoes.”

Friday, I was in Newtown, Connecticut when I arrived to what was left of the home of Hans Barth.  A fire started in the basement and quickly spread, consuming the modest house and destroying many things inside. 

The painful twist – two of Hans’ kids are survivors of the Sandy Hook massacre.  His seven-year-old son Peter hid in a locked bathroom with his teacher and classmates as gunshots echoed through the halls. 

“Maybe it’s because of the school that we learned a little more of what’s important to us in life, through that experience.  Maybe if it had happened earlier we would have been crying on the floor now, I don’t know,” Barth said, as he was loading donated items into a cargo truck.

I stood there with my mouth agape.  This man’s children are probably dealing with severe psychological trauma.  His house was gone.  Yet the whole time I was speaking with him, he smiled, repeatedly saying how blessed he was, how things really aren’t that bad.

“How can I not smile with all the support that we’ve had from all around.  I mean, what’s supposed to be a disaster has turned into a tremendous gift in a way,” Barth said.

We all have troubles – stress is often something we combat with on a weekly basis.  And thankfully, the majority of us will never have to deal with the drama the Barth family is currently experiencing.  But even small issues in our own little corner of the world can create personal turmoil.

With that said, what my wife reminded me of was to take a step back and look at the big picture.  My children were laughing and playing in the next room, there was a roof over my head, and aside from my pocket feeling a bit lighter, I felt great. 

Thank you Mr. Barth.  May I remember your story – and your attitude – the next time a mammoth problem…is really no problem at all.

(Note:  If you are interested in helping the Barth family, you can contact Christine Wilford at thewilfordfamily@gmail.com or go to the Barth Family Fund at www.gofundme.com/2fns60)

(The link to my story with Mr. Barth can be found here:  http://www.wtnh.com/dpp/news/fairfield_cty/fire-destroys-Newtown-home-of-shooting-survivors_79235163?categoryId=10001&status=false)

Nancy Lanza: Questions of "Why"

If anything, the documents released Thursday raise more questions than answers.  Unfortunately, they are answers we will continue to wait for, or, will never get.

The spur for Adam Lanza’s savage behavior is of great interest to many, especially those trying to figure out how to avoid such tragedy in the future.

But the search warrants truly highlight the mystery surrounding his late mother, Nancy.  We are filled with probing questions.  A number of items confiscated by the Connecticut State Police are troubling, and one has to wonder if Nancy had any knowledge of her son’s interest in mass shootings.

Did she ever venture into his room?  Did she notice news articles on mass killings – pictures of a deceased person wrapped in plastic?  Was there never an insatiable curiosity to peak into a journal, considering she was aware of his need for isolation?

Was his obsession to violent video games, coupled with access to weapons and ammunition, never debated even within her own conscience?  As pen touched paper on a Bank of America check, did she ever hesitate about giving the gift of a firearm to a clearly troubled young man?

In February, the Hartford Courant did an excellent expose of the relationship between mother and son (http://articles.courant.com/2013-02-17/news/hc-raising-adam-lanza-20130217_1_nancy-lanza-adam-lanza-peter-lanza).  Journalist Alaine Griffin reports sport shooting was something the family did together when Adam and his brother were young.  But one must wonder - was there ever a turning point in Adam’s demeanor that would have caused Nancy…to give pause about such a pastime?

We ask “why.”  It’s an easy question for reporters to throw out, but a much harder one to answer.  More paperwork surrounding Sandy Hook is slated for release this summer.  Perhaps we will learn more about what Adam was thinking, and maybe why Nancy was oblivious to what was coming. 

In the end though, after the investigation is complete, no sense will ever come to an unspeakable crime devoid of human compassion.

Technological Bullies: A Growing Problem

I left an interview Thursday determined to raise my children in a basement.

Admittedly, it sounds odd, and it’s certainly in jest, but it’s all about control.   

Making headlines this week was the arrest of two Torrington High School football players charged with sexual assault on a thirteen year old girl.  As if that’s not disturbing enough, the local paper, The Register Citizen, reports the child is being cyber-bullied for coming forward.

Which leads me to today’s interview with a young woman named Kelly Dyson.  The nineteen year old senior was the victim of vicious bullying attacks at school, on the phone, and on-line.  She says she endured non-stop harassment for more than two years.

“I would question myself, ‘What’s wrong with me?  What did I do?  What’s wrong?’  Ultimately, it wasn’t anything that I did; it was these girls just sort of attacking and having it out for me.”

According to the website bullyingstatistics.org, more than two million children are bullied each year, and cyber-bullying is becoming a more pervasive problem.  In addition, seventy-one percent of students say bullying is an on-going issue.

“It was coming both through text messages, ‘Facebooking,’ food getting thrown at me during lunch.  Just having that done to you, is damaging, you don’t know what to do, you don’t know where to turn, you’re scared to tell your parents because you don’t know if the situation would get even worse,” Dyson said.

One way to take control of the problem, says Steven Hernandez with the Connecticut Commission on Children, is for parents to keep tabs on what’s going on in cyberspace with their child.  If there are occurrences online, most likely, there are problems at school.  He says children might be tentative to approach a parent, but involvement is necessary to potentially avoid severe psychological trauma.

“The person in the room, who should control the behavior and control the message, is the adult, whether that’s at school or at home.”  It’s incumbent on the adult as to what’s being accessed by the child.”

Kelly’s bullying incidents became so severe it led to a near fatal car accident.  She doesn’t hide, rather, she took control of the situation, and now talks to peers and parents on how to combat the problem.

“People going through this, who are victims, need to know that suffering in silence, is never the thing to do.  I did that, it ended up with me almost dying…But I’ve become stronger with this.  I have a voice, and I can use it.  Ultimately, that is the most important thing.  Don’t let yourself sit there by yourself.”

…Which goes for parents as well. As much as I’d like to keep my children in the basement, protect them in a cocoon, life doesn’t work that way.  Knowledge is power, and the better prepared my kids are to meet the challenges of growing up, the better parent I’ll be.    

(Note:  For more information on how to combat bullying, you can go to the Connecticut Commission on Children’s webpage at http://www.cga.ct.gov/coc/bullying.htm)

Finally: Some Calm AFTER the Storm...

After reporting on the largest blizzard of my career, and subsequently digging my home out of three feet of snow, I now have time to sit back and reflect on a few things that are still sharp in my mind - things I witnessed before, during, and after the blizzard. 

1.  I was behind a woman in the grocery store last Wednesday who was buying four dozen eggs.  I'm not sure why someone needs four dozen eggs, unless you are feeding the Connecticut National Guard or baking the world's largest cake.  I had a dozen eggs and I "weathered" things just fine, thank you very much.  Incidentally, I went to a grocery store the day after the blizzard - they had a special on eggs.

2.  I'm amazed when people drive 80 miles per hour on the highway when it's summer.  Then there are those who drive 80 when it's pouring rain.  Can someone explain to me why we were getting passed on Interstate 84 as two to three inches of snow were falling an hour?  Was someone late for a movie?   Late for work?  Trying out for a new "NASCAR" winter series?  Or is there an overwhelming desire to be on the six o'clock news?  (I can assist you with that...)  I was required to be out here - and we kept it at 30 to 40 miles per hour.

3.  I haven't seen towns and cities this quiet since Christmas.  As bad as this storm was for thousands of people, there was something nice about the forcible peace created by a historic weather event.  We were forced to just...sit; enjoy the fire, read a book, have dinner together.  This snow created misery - but it also created happiness.  My 19 month old hated it (tears), my five year old loved it. ("Cool Daddy!")

4.  I grew up in Texas:  Tornadoes.  I lived in Colorado:  Avalanches. I worked in Florida:  Hurricanes.  When I moved here, I thought New England weather would be rather tame compared to what I had experienced across this country.  But after Irene, Sandy, and this blizzard, I now have more respect for the New England climate.  Connecticut is getting punished, and I'm not sure what we did to deserve that.

We are still digging out.  But for every aching back caused by a loaded shovel, every pass of a snow blower, one thing is clear - spring is on the horizon. 

Of course, by then, we'll have to worry about flooding...

"Good Night Moon" - Remembering Even the Smallest of Joys After Newtown

There is a nightly tradition I never want to miss.  Around 7:30, I get to read one of my 19-month old son’s favorite books.  After one book is finished, he will clumsily climb down off of my lap and grab another – then another – then another – fighting the fact that, eventually, he will have to go to sleep.

There is a kitchen that must be cleaned, a workout to do, laundry staring at me in an overfilled basket, but never do I hesitate to volunteer for this evening ritual.

I met one man today that will never again have that chance.

His name is Neil Heslin, he lost his son Jesse in the Sandy Hook shootings.  He was testifying today before a legislative task force setup to examine what changes, if any, should be made to gun laws.

“Jesse was the love of my life, he was probably the only family I have left,” Heslin told the press.  His eyes were red, and he was standing next to a picture of he and his son when Jesse was just six months old.

What struck me is when Heslin was testifying, questioning the need for high-capacity magazines in certain rifles, someone in the audience yelled, “Because it’s the Second Amendment!” 

One role of my job is not to take an opinion on such matters; viewers have no interest about how I feel on certain political issues.  However, I feel I can say that no matter what side you are on, the very least we should give the parents of Sandy Hook is the respect to speak without fear of being criticized. 

There are no easy answers here, because there are so many variables when dealing with violence, especially when discussing weapons in the hands of someone who was clearly mentally ill.  I feel for legislators, because whatever decision may be made, it will leave many feeling angry and possibly resentful of the process.

The news cycle moves on, and there are days now where “Sandy Hook” isn’t mentioned in a newscast.  But those of us not directly impacted by this tragedy must remember Newtown, even on the brightest of days, because it reminds us of the simplest blessings in life.

True, there’s a great deal at stake in this local and national debate.  No matter what happens, I must remember that I get to go home and read to my children, while so many do not.

“We were supposed to go back and make gingerbread houses that day.  We never made it.  Twenty minutes (after dropping Jesse off at school), my son was dead,” Heslin told some teary-eyed politicians.

Tonight, “Good Night Moon” was more meaningful than ever.    

My Summer Vacation: Headaches, Rashes, and Itching

"Hello Muddah.

Hello Fadduh.

Can I please not -

See one more doc-tuh?"

With all due respect to Allan Sherman and Lou Busch (writers of the famous song, "A Letter from Camp"), part of my summer has been rained upon by visits to doctors.  Even as a parent pushing forty, I still daydream about a summer that would be like a Jimmy Buffett song,  sun-bathing in the warm waters of the Caribbean sipping on a cocktail, the distant sounds of steel drums echoing across the sea.

But instead, my destinations have involved those in lab coats examining my head and skin.

Let me explain.

In my quest to stay in shape, I have subscribed to Tony Horton's "P90X" program.  However, the night before Memorial Day, I fell off my chin up bar and slammed the back of my head on the concrete basement floor. 

I was always taught if you are going to do something, do it right.  So just to make sure I was REALLY injured...

The metal chin-up bar then dislodged and struck me in the temple.  I forgot the names of my kids, asked my wife every minute if I lost consciousness, and then blamed her for the accident, telling my emergency room physician I must stay in shape because, quote, "My wife works with a bunch of hot, rich doctors."  (Seems like there was some head issues in there before the head issues...)

After a week of weariness and headaches, I was back to what I would consider normal.  The chin-up bar has been retired, and is now collecting dust in a distant, dark corner of the basement. 

Not to be outdone, the rest of my body wanted attention, and that help would come from an evil plant.

Trees in our front yard are often riddled with vines, which I decided needed to be pulled down.  A woman walking her dog happened to notice my gardening exercise, and notified me that I was "pulling down poison ivy."  My wife reassured this stranger - and then me - that it indeed was NOT poison ivy, but "Virginia Creeper."  Forty-eight hours later, dark, menacing rashes appeared on my arms and legs. 

If it was socially acceptable, I would drink Cortisone cream.

The itch became unbearable, so I rushed off to an "Urgent Care" clinic.  When the doctor opened the door, she said, "Oh wow.  Oh my. You need help." (I wish that was the first time I can say I ever heard that...)

I went through a prescription of anti-itch cream in two days, and when I went back to the pharmacy for a refill, the employee says the insurance company won't let me have another batch until the end of August.  Of course, the insurance company knows exactly when the itch will stop, so it made better sense just to listen to them.

Note to self:  Jump in poison ivy next month so I can use new tube.

My mother often tells me the older you get, the more visits to the doctor.  I turn forty in about two months, so isn't a little early to be filling out my "frequent doctor card?"

Summers are short in New England, but if this is what the doctor prescribes, then maybe I'm ready for fall.  Oh wait - I already did that - off a chin-up bar.

Maybe I'll just sit on the couch until the first day of winter...