Green Bay Packers Foundation and Aaron Meyer

Aaron had a way of exclaiming his happy surprise that went something like: NOaoaohwhww! I think that's a reasonably close spelling of what was more a sound than a word. His eyebrows would raise, or at least the left one, and his eyes would smile. Aaron's mouth formed a big "O". NOAOAOHwhww...long and drawn out. The press conference at Lambeau Field where it was announced that the Green Bay Packers Foundation had awared the Aaron Meyer Foundation a grant for the Aaron House project would cause Aaron to break out his signature sound.

John Blaha and I made the trip to receive the check. John, known as FJ around Lambeau, gets the red carpet treatment for giving 20 years of his life to the Packers. The stories he can tell... you'll have to talk to John.

Air-bear, you made it to the Packers. Because you lived the life you lived, and inspired the people you inspired, the Packers cut you a check. You're one of chosen few. True story Air-bear. True story.

Thank you to everyone who gave time, money, expertise, and prayers to the Aaron Meyer Foundation. Your efforts are validated by the organization that sets the standard for excellence.

www.Packers.com

On Thursday, February 26th the Green Bay Packers Foundation will announce their 2009 awards. They support causes which meet their criteria of responsibility to the community, financially responsible, and organizationally well managed.

The awards will be announced at a luncheon at 11:00 am followed by a press conference at Lambeau Field. Might be something people want to tune in to at www.Packers.com or see if the Green Bay Fox affiliate WLUK will do live coverage. http://www.fox11online.com/

After telling Aaron and Patrick they could grow up to be whatever they want, they asked me: "Why didn't you be a Packer dad?" Left me speachless. Aaron was a little more than irritated that I didn't be a Packer. Patrick was more forgiving. Naturally.

Blessings From Aaron's Friends

Summer days of 2005 were painful with the sounds of graduation parties in the neighborhood and brutal seeing Aaron's friends going off to school. God those days were torture to my mind and body. My brain would scream to me about the insanity. How could my son be dead? And the tears--oh my there were floods of tears.

The kids went off to school and I know they were there; I've seen Facebook. Well, actually there are no pictures of classes but they were somewhere and their college experience photos look alot like college kid pictures. I've seen some of these friends of Aaron's--they're young adults now. Hardly resemble the little kids and carefree high school students we remember. They're all just a pleasant as ever.

When I hear from any of the friends of Aaron I consider the message they share to be a blessing. Around Christmas I heard from one guy that he had a dream of Aaron. The message Aaron had for him and their friends was "Be Free--Live Free". Aaron is free. I know that. I've heard from messengers who let me know what Aaron needs me to know.

Today an email came from another friend of Aaron. She wrote, and I cherish this message:

Mr. Meyer, I went to school with Aaron and was friends with him while he attended DeForest Middle and High Schools. I believe that Aaron had the best happy go lucky attitude towards everyone and everything. He was always cheery and very easy going. I enjoyed getting to know him as a person and was pleased to have him has a classmate. I remember hearing about the Aaron House a while ago and I came across your website tonight. I think that this whole project is awesome!! It is very needed in the area and across the country!

I can say I remember Aaron was easy going and happy and it sounds like parental pride. For a person who was friends with Aaron to tell me what their impression of Aaron is, I know it's true. Softened in the pain of grief are the rough edges of our existence. However, I know the rough spots. I don't hear enough about the softe side of Aaron and if he was 3D there were two and a three quarters sides of softness to that little edgyness he kept for protection.

My little apartment in Madison is called Walden. Like Thoreau's Walden Pond cabin, this is a place of few luxuries. I like it this way. Dogs and friends are welcome for visits. This is a place of serenity. A place to read and write. There is no dishwasher--except me. No cable. I can vacuum, clean the bathroom, take out the trash, do the dishes, and mop the floor in 10 minutes. If Doc's here add 5 minutes for him dumping the trash and generally getting in the way of every where I go.

Aaron, Patrick, and I share a fondness for ideas well written. Aaron kept a log of quotes he heard. It's on a small yellow pad in his bedroom still. I read a quote he and Patrick would like. It's a Latin verse and the latin I did not remember, but the english translation I kept. Emerson used the quote in his discourse on Compensation. Here it is: "Things don't stay mismanaged long." They sure don't.

Life at Walden is peaceful. I have gratitude for the messages I receive from Aaron's friends--they remind me that he lived so I can for a moment forget that he died.

Thank you Chris and Tessa.
Tom

1988 - 2009

Cathy called to tell me an MBA friend of Aaron's died this week. Frank McGill She remembers this young man very well. He was one of the first Cathy met, possibly five years ago today, when she made her first visit to MBA to see Aaron. Probably a little further down the road than Aaron at the time, Frank was outgoing, friendly, and eager to talk. I'm sure his eyes were bright--that's the fondest memory I have of my visits to MBA--kids who's eyes would have been dark and full of fear at home were now bright and full of life and hope.

I have no idea what happened. I wonder what last Saturday was like for the McGill family? The last day of life as they knew it, Valentines Day...hmm. My head hung low in the first days. As I thought about this family and their grief my head drooped again. The neck muscles must be the first to surrender to sadness.

The ruins in the family when a young adult child dies is probably not the same in two families. But I doubt it's significantly different in emotional turmoil. A brave face and an attitude of gratitude for what was had buys a person time and enables one to leave the house for small moments. Ignore the grief when it calls and pay the price for ignorance. Emerson wrote in Compensation The gain is aparent;the tax is certain. A latin phrase he quotes says it well too: Res nolunt diu male administrari. Things refuse to be mismanaged long.

What are we mismanaging that so many young adults with compassionate souls die? What's the cause? I know the effect. 1988-2009 is not a lifetime, it's merely a start.

I'll Lose it Anyway

My health and well being is dependent on a daily reprieve. Anything I place ahead of health and well being doesn't matter because I'll lose it anyway. I heard that insight on this trip to the south and the message is worth contemplating.

I see the clock has struck midnight on the fortys for me--eastern time, but wait I'm a central time baby--I've an hour remaining.

There was a time when everything was ahead of my health. There was also a time when nothing mattered. The days of nothing are more meaningful to me than the days of everything. The days filled with so much of everything impress me as nothing of significance while the days of nothing inspire me to embrace, but not hold-on to life.

From the days when I wanted nothing, I received everything that matters. Recently I have been wanting. My journey has placed me in the presence of wise people who have raised my awareness. I have heard what I needed to hear. My teachers have given me the assessments of my spiritual condition. It is up to me to do the work.
I know where to begin.

Letting Them Go

Letting them go is hard when they fit so easily in my arms.
One to heaven and one to life.
Letting go.

One Foot Every 22 Seconds

At the speed of life. That's the way I lived my life. At 25 and before, I acted as if I were 50 in order to gain the respect of people in positions of power over me. Acted in moments though. No way could I play that role day and night. Some of my props included: Three piece suits, a hardy handshake, scotch and water, sarcasm, stupid witty comments, and other acts which hurt people who did nothing but be friendly to me. Every experience could have been a one man show, the other characters were props best played by people without feelings.

The last days of being forty something are here. Maybe, and I can't say for sure so maybe, this is the first time in my life where other people matter to me for who they are and what they know. Santa Maria Deluca and Michael wanted to talk to me yesterday. I let them and I'm more content today because I listened.

Giving is better than receiving, except when it comes to advice. I am so quick to give advice, before it is requested--as if the request is a given, and after speaking my mind I feel a bit wasted. Why do I feel when someone tells me somthing that they are seeking my advice? That can be changed. I am going to begin working on that today. Today I will be aware of my responses to the conersations I have with others. I will say Thank You for sharing your experience, and leave it at that unless my input is requested.

Eating dinner at the top of a hotel built in the early 70's I suspect I looked out over the Gulf of Mexico to the west, the coast north and south, and the city of St. Pete's to the west. All of those views were mine in the hour I sat at the table because the dining room floor rotated. By measuring the time it took for six inch floor tiles to move across a point on the floor, I calculated the room mooved at one foot every 22 seconds. I wonder how the designers arrived at this speed as the ideal speed of rotation? Too much faster and I think there would be problems for an intoxicated patron---would have been a challenge for me. George Jetson said what crossed my mind as the window pane dividers sped past one every 72 seconds--- "Jane! Stop this crazy thing!"

Aaron's In Heaven and No One Can Touch Him-He's Free

Leaving the confines my safe place I find myself in the company of fascinating people. This morning a man named Michael, who was probably 60 years old, sat across the room from me. On the top of each hand was tatooed a word. The right hand I couldn't make out. The left hand read: DAD. Michael is a spiritual being with a burning faith in God.

When everyone finished sharing their experience, Micheal approached me. Pushing me back without touching me, Michael moved me away from anyone who could overhear. His eyes were wide. Unblinking he looked into my eyes and said, "I know your son. I've seen him. I've held him. He's happy. He's free. There is no death. He wants you to know he's with God and he's happy. He's free. You are to be free. Let go of the past. Don't go there. There is no life in the past." I thanked Michael for the message and told him I know the message was real and I accepted it. Michael walked away without blinking once. "Peace of God be with you."

I had breakfast with Santa Maria Deluca and then packed my bag and headed south to Bonita Springs. The drive was made in Peace.

Tampa

Destination Tampa. Midwest Airlines is not what it used to be. No warm cookies, but according to the box tacked onto the partition at the ticket counter you can buy a box of frozen dough and bake 12 yourself at home. Cool. Fifteen bucks to check a bag. Cool. Flight attendants. Cold. Everyone is a little pissed off it seems. No smiles.

From '98-'02 we vacationed in Sarasota. Most of the time we flew to Tampa and drove down. Aaron and Patrick were great vacationers. Take them to a hotel, a pool, room service, and they were set. Well Patrick always needed time for his lungs to adjust--hook him up to the nebulizer and wait for his skin to turn from pale to pinkish and then he was ready to swim. Cathy, PT, and I almost made this return trip two springs ago, but cancelled as the date approached. Too traumatic to go without Aaron.

I am not sure why I am here, something coaxed me to keep going with an idea that seemed ideal more than a month ago. This morning I almost called it off, but here I am. Never have I been to FLA and been cold. Until the plane touched down today. Coming in over the Gulf of Mexico, the plane banked and approached the runway. 32 degrees, the Captain announced. Then I saw what triggered an emotion. Of all the beautiful sights, what ached my heart were round fuel storage tanks on the ground around the airport and the palm trees whipping past the plane as we raced in toward the terminal. Next was the inside of the terminal, then the shuttle, next the rental car stations, and then the drive south toward St. Petes and Sarasota. I have not cried deeply for some time, but that changed today. Grateful to be able to feel emotions. Especially the ones that don't include anger. What is the name of the emotion where you cry hard, the snot runs out of your nose, you sob, and your body aches and shakes, and then you feel tired and refreshed? I don't think sadness is it.

There were days I could not get to any feelings that were not related to resentful. Remembering what it was like, I recalled the agitated feelings. The anxiousness of getting to the hotel or condo, and the impatience I had with the boys. Regrets for sure, but I know better than to stare at the past. I remembered and forgave myself. I didn't know then what I know now. Today I have choices. Thank you Spence and others.

32 is 32 in Tampa and Madison. NW wind and hard cold. I sat by the pool in shorts and shirt off for 20 minutes then took a barefoot walk on the beach. Bright sun. Icey sand. I retreated to my room. Found a warm spot out of the wind on the balcony and then fell onto the bed. Woke in time to go meet some friends of Bill W. The topic of the conversation was---God's will and grace. Geezes. I don't know how this thing works, but everywhere the results are the same--I just shake my head in wonder. I always get what I need.

Don't know why I'm here. But I'm here and where I am going I don't know for sure, just that I will be there when I get there. In the morning I have some people to see at 7:00, then point the car south and drive. Expecting to reach Bonita Springs by 11:00 and maybe find a warm spot protected from the wind.

Fishing in the Gulf is the only activity I want to be sure to do. I friend set me up with a surf fishing rig. If the temp doesn't go north while I'm south I may need to send for a tip-up.

Wondering why I'm here and not regretting coming.

God's Will and The Power to Carry It Out

Tonight begins a stretch of days of solitude which will end the day after my 50th birthday next week. If disaster should strike before I see everyone again, it will happen with all of my relationships in the right place. That's the beautiful outcome of help from others who do God's work in my life. I'm far from perfect, but with the help of other people life is a blessing.

For a day and a half my mind has been filled with an awareness of understanding of God's will. Abundant clarity struck me and I know this too shall pass, but until it does--I gotta write. If I ramble you may have to sort through the mess, but there is a nugget in here. This is it:

God's will, as I understand the opinions of thinkers who I read--Dali Lama, Merton, Lewis, is that we live with compassion, mercy, and forgiveness to others and ourselves. To be able to progress in compassion, mercy, and forgiveness, we develop humility. A humble person sees himself as not more or less than anyone, but one of the whole of all the universe.

Now, here is where my opinion's come into the discussion and where my mind is swirling this week---God does not make horrible things happen in my life to drive me into humility. Maybe he makes it rain on my parade from time to time to slow me down or to keep me from running over someone, but there is no way God took the life of Aaron. No way. God is merciful and would not use murder as a way of leading one human down another pass. God created a world of balance and order. Only many affects the balance and order unfairly. No other species takes more than their share of any natural resource except man. Only man uses nature in a disorderly manner to serve his species. God is order.

So, with the world in balance and the universe in order, and God willing humans to progress in humility to better serve the universe in mercy, compassion, and forgiveness, my shallow thinking might decide I know God's will for me. I decide God wants me to progress in my humility by serving meals to the homeless, once a month. Twelve times a year should do it. I can commit to that. Might not keep all 12 commitments, but God won't care. I can do God's will as long as I can drive to the homeless shelter in my truck. I may make half of the 12 provided nothing comes up. I'm a busy man you know. Here I am cruising through my life of humble pie baking and all of a sudden I get a message delivered by one of God's angels.

"You misunderestimated God's willingness to allow you to visit the fertile fields of humility. God does not want you to serve meals to the homeless."

Good, because that's a sorry place. I'm glad he sees it my way. I'm better used expounding on the virtues of good over evil. Where does he want me to report for duty? On the speaking tour? National TV?

"Right here, Mr. Meyer. You will be homeless, destitute, cold, and hungry in this very city."

Is God going to take my apartment away from me? My job? My car?

"No. God doesn't take anything away from you. You give it away a little at a time by living a life of self will run riot. God will pick you up and deliver you to the streets where you will learn to live without."

Can you imagine this scenario? Serving meals to the homeless would be a teeny-tiny unpleasant. What kind of humility progress can you make in an apron spooning mashed potatoes and gravy? Even the most disgusting life of poverty in the United States is superior to poverty in Somalia I suppose, but it can't be a walk in the park. Humility would flourish if I was open to the lessons. Homeless, hungry, and poor, being fed by people who I probably once thought were beneath me would be a fertile field of fresh manure for my humble crop of compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. But, I'd have to survive to be an example of God's grace.

I'd have to survive and I could, if I am granted the power to carry it out.