Working for the Williamson Sun & Record as a reporter and columnist has been a great experience for me, one I hope to continue for a very long time.

It has given me priceless windows of exposure which benefit me in many different ways.  It helps me sell my books (another one out soon, look for it!) as well as welcoming me into the homes, if not kitchen tables and bathrooms of Wayne County.

Recognition, although miniscule in the big picture of life, was something I always wanted and strove hard to achieve. I wanted people to know me and to be interested in whatever I wrote, no matter what form.

Of all the places, however, that I DID NOT want to be recognized, was the Ontario Town Court. I had received a speeding ticket going west on Route 104, and the jurisdiction was Ontario’s.  [Side bar: that Route 104 is a killer, I never got a ticket until I moved here at age 50! Way to go, New York State Troopers! NOT!] 

I sent in the ticket and waited for the invoice for the fine. I never received one, and snarkily chalked it up to “Well, maybe they cut me a break – after all, I AM Eileen Loveman.” 

Foolish mortal that I am, I actually was surprised when I received a Notice of Suspension in the mail, because I hadn’t paid the fine.

Sheepishly approaching the counter of the clerk on Monday, I had hoped to pay my [ouch!] $150 fine and be done with it, and no one would be the wiser. 

But the Gods of Humility were no where to be seen that day.

“Hey!” said a smiling male face behind the counter.

“I know you! Aren’t you the woman who writes for the paper?”

Oh, Nooooo! 

Putting my head down and not making contact I answered softly “Ummmm, yes, I am.”

“Hey!” he said to a female co-worker and grabbed her by the elbow to get a good look at me.

“Look who it is! It’s that girl!” 

Another smiling face looked at me through the window.

“I read all your articles” she said while the man explained to yet another female co worker who doesn’t read me who I was, telling her about the dogs, the lake, and my beloved. He REALLY read me.

I realized then that I had to accept the fact I had to own up to my transgression, and accept the accolades, heartfelt and sincere.

Humbled and knocked down a few notches, I will be more mindful that my actions will precede me if I am not careful. They were good natured and served as a loving reminder that our lives touch others in ways we never dream of.

Thanks and a big grin to Ron, Nancy and Dawn.  You made my day.

But I hope I never see you again. At least, not in the courthouse.  

We drove the 2.5 hours to Lilydale, a spiritualists colony inhabited with mediums and those who felt they had the gift of speaking to those who have gone over to the other side.

As in every profession, some were better than others. This was a totally new experience for me, and I was not sure what to expect. 

Would there be chanting? Smoke and mirrors? Costumes? 

Ending up on the doorstep of a world renowned medium, my beloved and I took turns sitting in the waiting room.  Each of us spent 30 minutes with a slender and soft spoken gentleman, a man reminiscent of a kindly shopkeeper in a Harry Potter movie, with a wise face and kind eyes.

He taped recorded our session so that we could remember what he said to each of us, and I was thankful he did.

The first person to “greet” me was Bingo Mary, my grandmother and nemesis in many of the tales about my family.

Bingo Mary was the first to recognize my penchant for story telling and bought me my first typewriter, a portable blue plastic one with white keys.

I was taken aback but not surprised to learn she and my dad are still arguing in the hereafter, talking about the direction my life is about to take. I just smiled. 

For as much as I complained about my grandmother when I was young, I have learned that I am just like her, much to my mother’s chagrin.

Between laughs and tearful moments, I was able to take away from the reading a better sense of where I came from and what I want to do. 

His parting words to me were uttered by Bingo Mary, a cryptic “….remember where it all started” referring to the summer of 1964, when I sat on her patio, teaching myself to type and creating a new world where ten year olds didn’t have to fit it with anyone. 

It doesn’t take a visit to the hereafter to know what you want to do here on earth.  But it was fun just the same.    

 

Sitting in the sun baked backyard at my son’s house in Denver, I missed the sounds of the waves and the peacefulness of my house.  Although I loved being with him and his new family, there were times when I just wanted to close my eyes and be on the deck, listening the seagulls and the lapping against the rocks lining the shore. 

I had intended to write a column entitled “Why Can’t Jet Blue Get It Right?” when I realized that no one really wanted to listen to me complain about the delayed flights, the cancelled arrivals, the shoddy service and the arrogance of the flight crew.  We’ll get you there when we feel like it should be their motto, because the attitude dripped from every pore of their greasy haired and rumpled demeanor. 

I missed a book signing by two days, and missed spending my wedding anniversary with my husband – although we didn’t forget to celebrate when I returned, two days later than planned.  

As the flight finally made our way home from JFK Airport, I sat in my seat (24C) almost outside of the plane, and wondered how did this all come to be.  What should have been a 4 hour flight turned into a 16 hour one, with several drives back and forth to the airport over several days.  Even when we called to confirm the flight status, I’d arrive at the gate to learn it had been cancelled, moved to another gater or delayed, causing me to miss my connecting flight.  The next flight out, of course, would be full. 

We never used to hear about airline companies being so shoddily managed, with cancellations, delays, and arrogance abounding.  I could understand if it was the holiday season with endless feet of snow on the ground, but this was all happening in the middle of July!!! 

When did this start?  Was it the result of September 11th?  I can understand the delays in getting the checkpoints for security, but nearly 8 years later we haven’t figured that out yet?  Is it the bottom line, with the cost of fuel preventing the planes from taking off, or canceling the flights entirely if they aren’t at full capacity?   I remember one time in the 80’s there were four people on a plane, not including the flight crew.  That would never have happened today.

So I guess I will never get the true answer to the Jet Blue Debacle and Why They Can’t Get It Right.  All I know is that I am happy to be on my deck, drinking a hot cup of coffee and enjoying the sounds of the lake in the background. 

I had a terrific visit with my son and his family, visiting the Denver Zoo, touring down town and riding the light rail.  It was a wonderful feeling to see my boy and how happy he was, waiting for the right one at the right time.  My visit was marred by the ineptitude of Jet Blue, but will never overshadow the joy of being with the ones we love. 

We will be taking the train to my son’s wedding in April.  We might be traveling for a few days, but at least we’ll get there on time.

Pretty as a little doll with long blonde hair, she is polite and self assured for such a young age.  I was amazed at her sense of confidence and intelligence, talking to me and telling me about her cats.  She is sitting on my lap as I write this column, referring to me as her “New York Nana” and how

glad she is to see me.

Also visiting this week is my son’s father, my first husband and high school sweetheart. We laughed as we all had dinner at our son’s restaurant, and spent some time catching up and talking about high school, and what we’ve been doing the last 30 years. Who needed a class reunion, when he could tell me everything I wanted to know about who did what and where they were? 

It was a relaxing and fun time, and I sat next to him as our son snapped a picture of us together.  I realized that he never had a picture of his parents standing in one place at the same time, for the marriage was over before it begun.  We were divorced by the time he was six months old, each of us marrying other spouses who loved him and called him their own.  I am sure the wedding photographs will be one for the books.

Walking to the car after a great dinner, my son and his fiancé, my new grand daughter, and my first husband with his girlfriend (“..this ones a keeper!” He laughed) we stopped to look at each other for just a moment.  I could tell by his face he wanted to say something, and I nodded in agreement.

“I wouldn’t have changed a thing” I said simply. 

"What was meant to be, was meant to be” and he gave me a big hug. 

Bitterness is an unwelcome visitor who doesn’t stay at my house very long. 

“Let’s go, New York Nana!” chirped the little voice behind me.  “Time to go home.”

We smiled as we each went to our cars, remembering the freshness and innocence of youth, the excitement of young love, and the realization that we had forgiven each other many times over.  We will spend the rest of our days as friends. 

large image

Every Sunday during the summer months, a few willing souls in the congregation plan an early morning outdoor worship service.  It is much more relaxed than the traditional service, and we can choose the music we want and the prayers to be prayed.   Out behind the church building is a plot of land designed to be secluded and private, way down in a gully surrounded by a forest on all three sides. 

Positioned amongst the beautiful garden of flowers and all forms of vegetations and under a canopy of trees, we stand beside a wooden cross hammered into the ground and before a makeshift wooden pulpit facing the congregation, who have brought their own lawn chairs on which to sit and listen.  Our own little amphitheatre, these hardy souls minister to the birds, the deer and each other for 8 weeks at 8:30 am.  After Labor Day and when the air turns cool, we return to the church for the “normal” indoor 10 AM service. 

But it is raining this Sunday morning, and we are forced to use the concrete slab of the pavilion, somewhat more sterile, but no less spiritual.  We all stand together and listen for a moment as we enjoy the rain and the cool breeze it brings before beginning the service, watching the rain cascade in sheets all around us.  It is more beautiful than we would have imagined and could not have planned it any better.   We thank God for the beautiful day, to be together, and for all the needed rain.

We both follow a book of prayers and the sermon we speak comes from each of our hearts.  Although the pavilion is only half full, it is still received with the spirit in which it is given. 

More often than not, my beloved and I worship from the backyard on our deck, overlooking the lake and reading from a scripture book.  But it is nice to be able to look into the faces of those whom we love and who revel in hearing the word of God read aloud.

The service is short, only 30 minutes long, especially since I forgot to include a scripture reading; but its just long enough to fill us all with we need and what we want to share with them.  The sermon is entitled “Helping Each Other Get to Heaven” and one of us cries as we tell our stories.

I thank God everyday for the life I have now, and look forward to every day thereafter, whether it be filled with cascading rain or abundant sunshine.  I remind myself yet again, to never take this for granted. 

This week I was privileged to attend two events which truly embodied the meaning of family. The first was the farewell and good luck performance of local Williamson singer Emily Kaye.

Singing “country western music with a sophisticated twist” as she is billed, Emily and about 50 of her extended family members sat with the rest of the town on the library lawn, smiling and taking pictures as she sang her heart out. A home-town girl, she is headed for Nashville to pursue her dreams and whatever else may come her way.

Emily is one of the lucky ones, and she knows it. From the microphone she continually thanks her parents, her friends, but most of all her family for helping her achieve her dream. Not every one has the support of their family or even their parents for some challenges or adventures they want to face. The burden of trying to prove yourself is a lot lighter with those who are with us in spirit should our strength ever waver.

The second event was with my beloved, who, when he is not manufacturing electricity at a nuclear facility, works as a comedian and produces comedy shows. (There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’ll leave that to him.) I don’t usually travel with him when he goes on the road, but this was an overnight gig and we wouldn’t be gone from home for too long.

We traveled to a small town in the Adirondacks called Redfield.  It’s a snow mobiler’s heaven, I am told, but during the summer months, the new owners of the Reservoir Inn wanted to try something different, and comedy shows seemed to fill the void. The owners happened to be a family from Long Island and, true to form, were quite the comedians themselves.

Eileen and Kevin had sold everything they had and moved to Redfield, bringing Eileen’s sister Laurie with them to work as the chef. Together the three of them, (with four teenagers between them all) have worked long and hard hours managing their dream. A small inn tucked away in the woods and minutes from the water, where everyone knows everyone else, there is no doubt they will be successful, as evidenced by the sold out shows and bookings already scheduled well into next year.

At the end of the evening Eileen thanked everyone for coming, and from the microphone thanked her husband and her sister for all the hard work they did that week.

I realized once again how important it was to have family that you can rely on and whom you can depend to achieve your dreams.  If you are determined and dedicated enough to do it on your own, there is no doubt you will get there, as most family businesses in Williamson can attest. 

But how wonderful to have those loved ones standing beside you or a phone call a way when you need them, if things start to get tough.

It’s what family is really all about.

Don’t forget to thanks yours today.

large image Emily Kaye works the crowd	large image Natarelli fills the room
large image Sisters Eileen and Laurie	large image SOLD OUT
large image Kevin & Eileen	large image Emily Kaye

Here's some pointers on watching our kids while we take a well deserved time away.

Riley will probably wake you up at 6:30 am to go outside.  Leave the front door open – Simon and JJ will let themselves out in the morning.   Leave the front door open all day and night long and they will let themselves out whenever they have to pee – but make sure Riley goes out, sometimes he doesn’t feel like pushing open the door and will wait for when you wake up if he doesn’t wake you.   

Riley usually sleeps on the quilt in the floor of our room- when its hot he sleeps on the floor in the big room.

Simon sleeps on the couch in the big room or wherever he feels like it.

Breakfast -  4 scoops of food that’s in the bag.  Add a little teaspoon of gravy in the frig to each bowl.   JJ gets a few cookies crushed into his, too.   He’s a prima dona.

You don’t have to walk them or take them to the water.  Make sure their water dishes are always full, the one in the kitchen, the one in the big room and two on the front deck.  They drink a lot so keep a look out.  Most of the water will land up on your feet or on the floor, but keep filling the bowls anyway.

Please rub baby wipes on their ears and down their backs before they go out – it keeps the flys from biting them – works on humans, too!

From time to time you can give them a cookie or a chip (those white things you might trip on from time to time.)  If you happen to go out or go to the lake and leave them in the yard, they can have a pig's ear. When people drive by, they usually bark, but they are getting better.  Its good to check if someone is in the driveway, just in case.  A lot of times the UPS or Fed Ex delivery person will give them something to eat too, so its good to check.

Sometimes they run around in the yard and get quite loud – barking and even sound like they are growling at each other – don’t be alarmed, they love each other and that’s how they play.  You will always see their tails wagging – if for some reason a strange dog comes by you will see their tail point straight up – they go right into protection mode for themselves and us. [you]

PLEASE MAKE SURE THE GATES ARE ALWAYS PULLED CLOSED, or they will try to take a quick run to the lake, especially RILEY.

If they happen to get out, don’t panic – they usually come back, but if you need help rounding them up, call Warren – his number is XXX-XXXX.

Dinner is at 5:00, but Simon will start pestering you at 4:30, just to make sure you don’t forget.   Don’t let him bug you and tell him he has to wait, its not 5:00.  Tell him he’s being a pain in the ass. He’s used to it and it won’t hurt his feelings.

Dinner is 3 scoops and a little gravy.   They usually go back outside after dinner and take a big dump.  Don’t worry about cleaning up poop, but if any kids are going to play out there, you’re on your own.   We are good about getting it everyday so there isn’t any residual left over.

Last call for them is around 9:00 pm – we say “Time for Night Time Pee Pee” [you have to say the words] and they will go tearing out the door from where ever they are in the house, barking and having a great time jumping around and on each other!  We have no idea why they do this.  It just started one day.  I think they think its party time, but they do their business and will come back on the porch when ready.  If its raining you might have to tell Riley to get off the porch (big baby) and make sure he does his business.  Sometimes JJ will hang back, contemplating the world, look at the stars, or searching the perimeter for intruders.  If you smell skunk, get them in the house FAST.  

As far as Gar goes – he will moan from time to time, meowing as loud as I’ve ever heard a cat meow- but since you are ‘strangers’ he might not even come home.  We put the wet food on the floor in the kitchen for him, but if he’s not around, put it on the counter or the boys will eat it (usually Riley).  He won’t starve, there’s dry food and a water dish downstairs. If he does happen to show up and is a pain in the ass while you are sleeping,  put him downstairs and close the door.  You won’t hear his screams over the fans J He thinks he's really a dog and gets quite insulted when he is treated like a cat.   If he decides to bring you a present [like a still live chipmunk or the head of a mouse] please leave it outside.

If is gets cold or is raining, you can shut the garage door, leaving a short opening at the bottom for the cat to go in and out.  Hit the buzzer so it closes all the way and then hit it again so it goes up a short bit, then quickly hit it again.

large image Simon	large image JJ
large image Riley	large image Lining up
large image Simon and Garfunkle	large image Gar, the puppy-cat

Anyone who is a fan of television shows Top Chef or Iron Chef can relate to the recent Slice, Dice & Spice NY Pro-Am Chef Challenge held this spring. Several chefs from the area’s top restaurants competed in a good-natured team setting, each creating a winning dish to be judged the best. Cooking in teams of two, the winning team donates their winnings to a charity of their choice, as well as contributes to the Finger Lakes Community College Tourism Scholarship Fund. Food Link’s Chief of Staff, Jill Rowell, was also an assistant on the winning team.

The organizers of Slice, Dice & Spice NY donated their winnings to Food Link of Wayne County, in an effort to highlight locally grown foods and shine a spotlight on the need for more contributions to local food organizations during a time of record food prices.

A formal presentation of a check in the amount of $250 was given to Food Link Executive Director, Thomas Ferraro.  Many of the other county representatives were also on hand for the ceremony, including Lisa Burns, Livingston County Tourism; Christine Worth, Wayne County Tourism; Valerie Knoblauch, Finger Lakes Visitors Connection; and Town of Williamson Supervisor Jim Hoffman. After feasting on scrumptious apple dumplings baked by Mitzi Sherman, Christine Worth formally presented the check to Thomas Ferraro.

“We are so proud to donate this money to such an important piece of this industry, and hope it will be put to good use” stated Ms. Worth.

“The mission of the challenge was to get people to eat local foods, to enjoy the produce grown here and to work for a worthwhile cause” explained Ms. Knoblauch.

“It was a wonderful experience and I can’t wait to do it again next year” exclaimed Lisa Burns.  A similar event will be held in Rochester in October.

Ferraro thanked the group and explained what would be done with their donation. “Most of what we receive goes to Kids Café, a program where kids learn to cook and we work together to familiarize ourselves about food. Hunger is a symptom” he continued.  “You won’t end hunger by just feeding it. We have to create wealth in order to reach everyone. We hope that our programs will teach that, by helping to promote the smaller farmer as well as the well established ones.”

Supervisor Hoffman also expressed his thanks and appreciation for the group’s participation. “It was a world class event which helps profile our area and assists a charitable cause as well.” “It has been a great partnership” added Christine Worth.

The staff at Lagoner’s Farm Market agreed wholeheartedly and were appreciative to be part of the ceremony.  

 

Plastered onto the refrigerator and held in place with magnets, I was able to fit two months at a time.  I didn’t realize until the kids started getting older that very rarely were any of the appointments for me, not even the doctor visits. I was guilty of one of the easiest things a mother does – putting ourselves last.  And while there is something to be said for making sure the family is taken care, it is also important we make some Me Time as well.  Easier said than done, I know.  I reasoned there would be time for me later, and I looked forward to the day with the anticipation of saving money in the bank. 

This is not to say I was a martyr in the making, or a long-suffering diva.  I just knew that it was not my time yet.  It was still time for “the Others.”

Fast forward several years and the kids are in college, in the service, or on their own.  My calendar is bare and I struggled to find things in which to fill in the squares. Suddenly I realized that my time had come and I wasn’t ready.  The “Others” were gone.  I was so used to putting things to the side that I hadn’t prepared myself for when the moment finally arrived. 

Sitting in my kitchen, one different from the one they had grown up in, I realized I had absolutely nothing to do, except my work.  I thought to myself  “This is not all there is, what God has intended for me” and I set about looking for what the next step should be.  It didn’t take very long; with me, God is direct and intense – otherwise I don’t see it.

As is with life, the sparseness of the hours didn’t last for very long. My daughter survived Cancer, I got remarried, began writing for myself and published books, and started a new kind of family.  The calendar is now filled with dates for book signings, speaking engagements, my beloved’s comedy gigs, the veterinarian appointments, and oh yes, visits from the grandchildren. 

For I understand now that it was the right thing to do to put them first, back then; it is now okay to put myself first instead.  I look forward to what is around the corner, but I will never regret the roads I left behind.

May we always continue to keep a healthy balance between “Us” and “the Others,” and knowing when the time is right, you will have done both.    

The aroma of barbequed chicken dinner complete with salt potatoes, beans and apple sauce wafted through the area, sold under the giant tent erected by the fire companies. By the end of the afternoon, they were sold out. It was also a time for education. “This is a great opportunity to teach people about fire safety, especially our children,” said Nancy Gowan, a member of the Pultneyville Company. Sparky the Fire Dog roamed throughout the grounds shaking hands, and fire trucks were open for inspection.

It wasn’t all work, however, as the fire companies took the opportunity to play some competitive games, such as tug-of-war and water ball.  Water ball is a skill in itself. A small leather ball is tethered to the wire which has been strung between two posts on either side of the field.

Usually having four or five people on a team, the main objective of the game is to aim the spray from a fire hose so that it pushes the ball to the side of the opposite team. Since the first person holding the nozzle of the hose can’t see anything, it is up to the team member behind him to yell directions to guide the hose and the water shooting from it. They yell “Up! Down! Right! Left” and the leader blindly does what he is told, trusting the instruction while the rest of the team holds the hose up behind him. Every one gets soaked but no one seems to mind. Team Lagoner gave a valiant effort but were defeated by East Williamson.

They also were close to beating the Pultneyville team during a spirited tug-of-war. “This is something we’ve wanted to do for a very long time,” said Diana Lagoner, one of the organizers. 

“We have wanted to pay tribute to our dedicated firefighters, and to thank them for all they do. When ever we need them, they are there.” A recent barn fire on the property close by brought the idea to the forefront.

“Even though we are always busy, we thought this would be the best time to do it, tie it in with the first crop of the summer season” added Jeremy, another member of the family.

Of course, there was the usual seasonal produce from their farm inside the market, as well as home made ice cream, pies and fudge. At one point Mark Lagoner interrupted the festivities to introduce Williamson Supervisor  Jim Hoffman, and to thank the community for attending this first festival. Hoffmann reiterated his appreciation of those who perform public service and was looking forward to a productive year.

The entire farm was bursting with activities which accommodated everyone.  From sack racing, whole-in-one golf, wagon rides, pie eating contests (won by a petite but hungry Autumn Bowman) and romps through an inflatable fire truck, the Lagoner Family thought of everything.

For those who wanted to sit and take in the beauty of the surroundings, the easy listening music of Mark & Lee filled the background. Herm and Wilma Young of Young Sommer Winery were also on hand for a wine tasting of their newest creations, Strawberry wine.

The evening ended with a spectacular fireworks display by Young Explosives. Many local businesses were responsible for sponsoring the fireworks as well and the Lagoner family wanted to make sure they were acknowledged.  They wished to thank Ashley Insurance, Breen’s IGA, Cavallaro Neubauer, Cole Income Tax, Dr. Fred Kaempffe, Fox Farms, King’s Auto, Carol Verbridge of Nothnagle Realty, KM Davies, Michael Herbert, DDS, Paige Equipment, R. Brooks, Williamson Medical Supply, Williamson Medical Center, Williamson Storage, Young Funeral Home, Jim & Laurie Peters, Williamson Hardware and the Young Sommer Winery. 

As I stood at the top of the hill and watched all the kids playing in the sandboxes, being pulled in the train to go through the corn maize, and all the other activities of the day, I was joined by Laurie Niles, wife of one of the firefighters and whose children had enjoyed the day.

“This is just good old fashioned clean fun.  I’m a country girl and this reminds me of when I was a kid down in the Southern tier.  I am so grateful my children are able to experience what I used to do, and I know everyone thanks the Lagoner Family for this wonderful time today.”

The Lagoner Family intends to make this an annual event, although I can’t imagine it being any better than it was today.  

 

One of the best parts of my job when covering an event is discovering the story within a story. It’s like biting into a piece of chocolate, only to find the soft gooey center inside.  A wonderful and surprising treat.  After being on my feet for four hours straight, I finally decided to sit down at one of the many picnic tables spread out on the fields of the Lagoner Farmers Market. 

I was covering their Annual Strawberry Festival, and sitting across from me were Marlene and Stanley Niles.  They had come back to Williamson from Canada to visit their youngest son and his family, and were thoroughly enjoying themselves.  They had retired in 1995 and moved north to their own little piece of land.  I looked at this couple sitting side by side, laughing like newlyweds. I asked them how long they had been married.

“We just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary” said Stanley, and put his arm around his bride, pulling her closer.  The entire family celebrated with a luau style party, and everyone had a great time, they reported.

“We were married on Flag Day, June 14, 1958, and we just renewed our vows.”  Marlene was smiling ear to ear and pointed out the gold necklaces they were both wearing, in honor of the year. 

“We renewed our vows at 25 too!” she said and leaned in closer as if to share a secret. “….and we used the same minister!” ”Its my brother Ray” grinned Stanley and they laughed in unison.

“Every 25 years he says to us ‘see you in 25’ and he said it again this year.  I don’t doubt that he will be there.  Of course, he’ll be 94 by then, but who cares?  We intend to be there.”

Giving his sweetheart a quick peck on the cheek, she agreed with a nod of her head.  I learned more about the couple as the afternoon went on, and how much living they had done in those short 50 years together!  Stanley was once a firefighter for the Lincoln Fire Department, and Marlene the President of the Ladies Auxiliary.  Nowadays they spend their time going full speed up in Canada, he as a curler, and she involved with other charitable activities.  They both love gardening, and their house is ‘almost finished.’ 

As I bid them goodbye, I felt their tenderness for each other and for life itself.  I am not naïve enough to think there may have been some years harder than others.  But what a wonderful gift I received that sunny Saturday in June, to have met the meaning of love and commitment, and to witness it being carried out.  Right before my very eyes.

May 14, 2007, was a Monday morning like no other for Tim Rutan.  It was a school day and he was going through his daily routine before heading to the kitchen for breakfast.   Except for feeling a little tired, he woke up at his usual time and took a shower.  It wasn’t until Tim tried to pull his arm through his shirt sleeve when he noticed things weren’t quite right.

The weekend had been especially busy.  A fit athlete, he had participated in a soccer game and did very well.  Also an avid runner and member of the track & cross country team at James Benway High School in Ontario, he was looking forward to breaking the record in an upcoming meet that he himself had broken the year before while a Sophomore.  Saturday he had gone to the School Prom, and Sunday was Mother’s Day.  He was looking forward to taking his AP Physics test that Monday morning, and going to the Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in New Mexico the upcoming summer.   He was just about finished with a project which would lead to the final achievement of an Eagle Scout badge.   

But his arm wasn’t doing what his brain was telling it to do.  It was weak and felt very strange.  “I thought maybe if I looked away, kind of trick it, that it would work better” he said.  It didn’t.

Walking out to the kitchen, he found his mother Cindy preparing breakfast.  His father, Scott, was sitting in his chair in the living room, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper.   “I tried to tell the what was happening, but then I realized I couldn’t talk.  Now I was getting scared.”

Cindy tells of the horror she felt at that moment.  “His face was beginning to droop, the corner of his mouth was slack and his eyes were glassy.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  We called the ambulance and transported him to Rochester General.”

Although he never lost consciousness, Tim was diagnosed as suffering from “…an acute right sub dual infarct in the right frontal lobe.”

At 17 years old, Tim Rutan had suffered a stroke.

A Cat scan proved to show a blood clot in the middle cerebrum artery killed parts of his brain and affected the right side, which controlled the left side of his body.   He had some weakness in his left leg, but could walk.   Immediately the occupational therapists at Rochester General began working with him, strengthening his hands and arms, making sure his legs were still all right.  A speech therapist also worked with him, once his voice returned and could swallow without a problem.

Incredibly, although his voice was fragile for the rest of the week, the hospital sent him home after 48 hours, fully recovered. 

Although Tim was extremely fit, he and the rest of his family are convinced the power of prayer had a lot to do with his miraculous recovery.  After all, this was not the first time the family had prayed for him.

Tim was born on April 10, 1990, 13 weeks premature.   His father, now a staff member of St. Patrick’s Church in Victor, baptized Tim at 3-4 minutes old and was immediately put on a respirator to help him breathe.    

”This only shows how much of a fighter my son is”, explained his still incredulous dad.  “At four and half pounds, he pulled the tube out himself.  The nurse on duty was panicked, but quickly realized he was breathing just fine on his own.”

A prayer chain was quickly created between all of their family members and friends, who prayed for the little boy who was so determined to not let anything get the better of him.   He went home 4 weeks later.

It was this same prayer circle of friends and family that shot into action when Tim had the stroke, only this time the reach was so much farther.  His older brother, Michael, who was away at college, sent out the need for prayers via emails from New York to Connecticut and back, hitting all his friends at MySpace, Facebook, and any other way he could communicate the urgency.

Tim was happy to have recovered so quickly, and couldn’t understand why he was given the red light when it came to sports.   He was extremely angry when the doctors told him he could no longer take part in different meets.   “All I wanted to do was go back to running, and was so mad because I felt fine!”

It was for good reason, however.   An ultra sound and stress test of his heart showed he suffered from Peyton Foreman Ovale, or PFO, which is a hole in between the two top chambers of his heart.  Every baby has this while they are inutero, as it is how blood and oxygen flows from the mother to the baby.  This hole closes up right before birth, but in 25% of babies it remains open, requiring surgery to close it.

July of that year found him back in the hospital where cardiologist, Dr. Carl Johnston, performed the procedure to close it.  Tim was in the hospital for two days, and was laid up for four weeks at home.  Dr. Johnston, an avid runner himself, encouraged him and knew he would one day run again.  He has since become his coach and mentor, as well as close family friend. 

Tim also accredits his recovery to Dr. Johnston who has “…an incredible work ethic and stamina.  He would never let me give up.”

Humility and good humor are also qualities that helped Tim get through this trying ordeal.  He has never asked ‘why me?’ or blamed anyone.  When asked how he felt about being profiled in the paper, with typical modesty he smiled and said “It felt a little weird, but I guess its okay.”  

He also offered these sobering thoughts.  “Things may happen to you that you don’t expect.  I never expected to have a stroke being so young.  But work through the hard times, and LET people help you that can, rely on others who know what they are doing.  Don’t let pride get in the way and think you can do it all yourself.  I couldn’t; no one can.”

Tim has been accepted at Nazareth College in Pittsford and wants to become a Physical Therapist.