musings of Mother Hood

Veterans Day 5K

I know! I said I wasn't doing anymore 5Ks for a while... Getting ready for the half marathon... Longer runs on the weekends... I know!

But some friends were talking about running a local 5K on Veterans Day weekend that would benefit the Fayetteville National Cemetery, and I couldn't say no.

The atmosphere for the race was pretty cool -- lots of retired military folks and ROTC students from the University.

With a bigger crowd than I'd anticipated (on the morning of the last Razorback home game of the season), we all lined up, observed a moment of silence for veterans and their families here and across the world, and we took off.

Me, of course, waving to my adoring, pint-sized, biggest fan on the sidelines.

The race began at the cemetery itself and went north through the south end of town. And - since it's Fayetteville - somehow it was uphill both ways.

Ok fine, there were SOME downhill sections. But check out that first 2 miles! Hill -- catch your breath -- another hill -- catch your breath -- oh, wait ANOTHER hill. Awesome.

And these guys did the entire thing in formation!

After 3.1 miles of hilly Fayetteville it was time to cross the finish line with my favorite running buddy.

Results aren't posted online yet, but my time was around 30:37. Not even close to my best time, but the race was a fun one. Hills, more hills, and a great cause.

Alongside my boys, a few friends even braved the cold to come cheer me on! Jennifer (in purple) was supposed to run, too, but is nursing a foot injury. And Tena couldn't resist the cause either. After the race, we went into the cemetery to find her Dad. She hadn't been back to visit him since he was buried there over a year ago. It's such a perfectly peaceful place. I'm glad I got to be there with her for that moment.

My shirt attracted the attention of this man, pictured here with his grandson -- and Colt and me.

He is a West Pointer - Class of '62. Coming up on his 50th! reunion this spring. I can't for the life of me remember his first name, but it was great to chat with him before and after the race.

A fantastic way to spend Veterans Day weekend. Thank a veteran. Today - and every day.

It's about time

I kinda hate the phrase 'Time heals all wounds'. It suggests that the mere passing of time will help you get past any amount of pain or grief, that marking days off a calendar will somehow help you feel better.

I just don't buy it.

What terrible advice to give a grieving friend. "Just hang out for a while. Relax. If you just wait long enough, you'll eventually forget about all this pain and you'll be fine."

No. The people you see healing over time are not healing because of the time. They're healing because of how they are spending that time.

Four years have now passed since October 14, 2007. He's been gone FOUR years.

Honestly, I can't remember the point at which I realized it wasn't going to just get easier with time. This day keeps coming, every year. And I suppose we could all sit back and wait for it to come around, and eventually four years would turn into ten years then twenty then fifty. And we would all keep hoping that "time" would do its job and the pain would be gone. But it just doesn't work that way.

Last night, we were in Cabot. Our hometown. It was incredible to swap hugs and stories with old friends and be surrounded by those people this week of all weeks. After all, this week has to happen. Every year. Why not spend it together and in action?

Everything that happens to you makes you who you are. October 14, 2007 is part of who I am. And every day since then, I've changed -- and he hasn't.We grew up together and then suddenly I had to keep growing and he's not here. As life happens and our family evolves, I will miss his presence in all of it. At first I missed my big, goofy brother and was heartbroken because of what could have been. Today I miss him differently because I have a kiddo who I think is pretty cool, and I know he would think so, too. For every day that I change, there are new reasons that I wish he were here.

Last night it was serving pizza, other times it's something else. And it's different for each of us, but I think, after four years, we've all committed to making these days and weeks pass meaningfully instead of just watching time go by.

Beautiful Day

Chances are you've never heard of Chris Kirstein. And until a few weeks ago I hadn't either. I woke to my alarm on a chilly Sunday morning, still pretty sore from running the day before, and I had to give myself a pep talk just to get out of bed. Surely it would be ok - and perfectly understandable - if I take today off. My legs are sore. It's cold outside. Just roll over and go back to sleep.

But I didn't. I got up, made myself some oatmeal, and gathered my stuff. I quietly paced the house trying to stretch my legs and pretty soon it was time to leave.

Leaving my boys at home, sleeping snugly in their beds, I got in the car and headed for Lake Fayetteville and a chilly, Sunday morning 10K. I was still unconvinced that racing was a good idea that day and about halfway to the end of our street I reconsidered my original plan of going back to bed.

But right about the time my attitude almost got the best of me, a new song came on the radio.

U2's Beautiful Day.

And I remembered why I had agreed to run this race in the first place.

The race - Run for Every Chris - exists to raise funds and awareness for the Arkansas Crisis Center as the Center spreads suicide awareness and provides crisis intervention for the state. All of it in memory of Chris, a 15 year old boy who took his life in 1994.

I was there to run for Chris. For every Chris. I had never met Chris Kirstein, but he dragged my sorry attitude out of bed that morning and got me to the start line.

I was also there to run for Jami. You probably don't know her either, but she's part of the extended family I inherited by working at Saatchi. Jami's mom Michelle is my friend and coworker. Their family's heartbreaking story is here. Jami is a Chris. She committed suicide in 2005. The day of the race would have been her 23rd birthday.

Saatchi & Saatchi Xers: Jeff Gordon, Michelle Sbabo, Sarah Hood. Run for Every Chris 10K - 2011.

And as I ran the trails that morning, I realized that in a way I was there to run for the people I've lost in my own life, suicide or no.

I haven't even been running an entire year, but already it's evolved. At first, it was a challenge to myself - can you run a mile? And over the past several months there have been elements of competition, fitness, personal goal-setting, and - dare I say - enjoyment. But to be honest, I've asked myself more than once why I spend so much time doing this running thing. I spent my entire life being nonathletic, why start now? I have a family and a job and I have to sleep sometime -- why add something else to the plate?

6.2 miles is a long time to think and it's a long time to be a little cold and a little sore, but I ran. My legs hated nearly ever single stride of the first two miles that morning, but I was almost in tears as it dawned on me that I have a very powerful motivating force that is with me, like it or not.

Run for Every Chris.

Run for Every Jami.

Run for Every Justin.

Run for Every Sherlock.

Run for Every Tom.

There's something about getting my blood pumping and making my muscles hurt that makes me feel like I'm hanging out with my brother. Of course it's still competition and fitness and enjoyment, but ultimately, I think that's why I run -- it's the most physical, tangible way I've found to remember him. When I'm pushing, he's proud of me. When I feel like shutting off the alarm and going back to sleep, Tom's commitment and dedication get me out of bed.

Not every step and not every run is fun - sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's hard, and sometimes I wonder why I bother, but I wear his name on my wrist and that makes it really, really hard to quit.

American Summer

I couldn't help but overhear. We were out for supper this weekend and two tables directly behind us struck up a conversation with each other.  After a few minutes of listening in, I stole a glance over my shoulder and the scene was exactly as I had pictured.

Two older couples, probably in their 70s, decked out in their 4th of July gear. The women wore clothes decorated with stars and stripes while the men both wore those tall, black Veteran caps covered in ribbons and pins. I could picture them on their way to a 4th of July event at the local VFW post or maybe a night of fireworks with the grandkids.

The men had connected, as I've often seen military folks do, and were swapping stats. Years they were in, where they were stationed, which equipment/plane/helicopter they used -- and how they had eventually landed in Northwest Arkansas.

They chatted like old friends. And I sat there and smiled. A sad smile. Because there are far too many soldiers and veterans who deserve to have that conversation when they're 70, but never will.There are far too many who will never get the chance to tell old stories and reminisce about 'the good ole days'.

Independence Day has evolved into a long weekend of family gatherings, food, relaxation - and storytelling. Some of the stories are told by retired veterans reminiscing about military adventures and days gone by. Other stories are "remember the time..." tales of holiday weekends and vacations past, shared among friends between bouts of laughter. And still others are told by the people left behind. We tell the stories that fallen soldiers - and friends - can no longer tell.  

We had a lot of fun this weekend. Spent time with friends, family and enjoyed lots of good food. We laughed a lot and relaxed a bit. We tried our best to live this weekend as part of a story worth retelling. What's your story?

4th of July - 2011 from Sarah Hood on Vimeo.

If you are viewing this post via email or reader, please click on through to enjoy the video.

A Day to Remember

It means more than a day off of work, and a weekend at the lake. It means more than enjoying a beer while hosting the first real BBQ of the season. It's more than the unofficial kick start to summer.

And it's one of the most important days we Americans could possibly observe.

Memorial Day is not about Veterans. It isn't about celebrating homecomings and it isn't about politics or yellow ribbons. It's a day that makes our country pause. And think. And remember. It's about all of those that never came home. Memorial Day is set aside to honor those who died while serving our country.
 
But like any other holiday, it's really easy to get wrapped up in the celebration and the break from school, the food and family and festivities - and forget the true meaning of the day. Right? It's a long weekend. A chance to squeeze in a short road trip or a visit to Grandma's before summer camp and swimming lessons are in full swing.

But somewhere in-between, this day should be especially meaningful to us as parents. Most importantly because each soldier lost while serving this country has parents, and a family. And to those left behind, every day is Memorial Day. It's sometimes easy to forget that our troops are also sons and daughters and brothers and cousins and friends. And while our country honors its fallen soldiers on Memorial Day, it's important to remember the fallen as those sons and daughters and brothers and cousins and friends that they were. They are truly, brutally missed.
 
So take a minute. Take a breath. And observe Memorial Day.

This post has been adapted for Musings of Mother Hood. It was originally posted on Deep South Moms Blog on May 31, 2010.

The Rest of the Story

I got all excited and started to tell you about our long weekend with family, but only got as far as Thursday. Whoops.

But better late than never, right?

It's true. I was off work Thursday and Friday last week to drive to Cabot and back (Thursday) then entertain the fam in Fayetteville (Friday and beyond). Which may or may not seem monumental, but around here -- it's a pretty big deal. All Martins in the same place at the same time -- doesn't happen that often. Especially not in Fayetteville!

My Dad came from San Antonio and picked up Laura and Leo in Dallas on his way. Mom flew in from Virginia and Erika flew in from Georgia. Becky is here in Fayetteville, too and that rounded out the group.

We joined The Harbor at Faith & Family Night with the Arkansas Naturals Friday night -- and let Colt enjoy his first baseball game.

He spent every minute of the pre-game festivities (well, until the fireworks) hanging on the edge of the fence, waving to the baseball players warming up. IN LOVE.

And remember what I said about all those Martins? All in one place?

Front Row, Left to Right: Laura, Leo, Erika, MawMaw, Colt, PawPaw. Back Row, Left to Right: Becky, Creed (Becky's boyfriend), Jeff, Sarah.

In this next photo, my friend Nancy managed to capture the perfect culmination of several notable factors:

1. I am constantly on the Quest For The Perfect Family Photo and I rarely pass up an opportunity when we are all showered and dressed (and sometimes not even that...) and doing something fun.
2. Colt is in that stage (that I assume will last for about 18 more years...) in which he looks anywhere but at the camera and makes my Quest For The Perfect Family Photo a lesson in patience and creativity instead.
3. "Got your nose!" is endlessly entertaining. I don't care who you are.

The Double Nose Get! We never saw it coming!

More ballgame pics of families from The Harbor on Facebook - or RIGHT HERE.

I can't remember exactly, but we made it to inning 6ish before the munchkin's bedtime came calling. He really seemed to like it (except for the blasted fireworks) so we might look for a day game to check out this summer. 

All that fun and the actual weekend hadn't even started yet! Saturday morning we headed over to MawMaw and PawPaw's hotel to mess around in the pool.

The water was a little chilly and his teeth were chattering out of his head, but he didn't care. He splashed around until lunch time. Lunch, nap and a trip to the bookstore to show MawMaw the train table -- and it was time to get ready for supper!

I mentioned that the family doesn't get together all that often. So we decided to squeeze every drop out of this weekend -- and celebrate everything within 100 miles. Yes, it was Mother's Day weekend, but my Mom and Dad put their heads together and came up with a "Celebration!" that included EVERYONE. We celebrated birthdays, graduations, Mother's Day, Father's Day, green cards, and memorials.

And we ate.

I love this. It allllllmost looks like Jeff and I could be on a nice little date. But then you see the sippy cup peeking over the edge of the picture. Yah family life!

And one with the monkey himself.

And after a few more family photos outside the restaurant (courtesy of the cute prom kids waiting for their table) --

(-- and a quick stop in the parking lot to capture THIS --)

-- it was time for the real Celebration!

Remember? Birthdays, graduations, Mother's Day, Father's Day, green cards (and driver's licenses and SS cards!), and memorials. We celebrated it all!

I know that's more pictures than commentary, but I hope you can tell that we had a really good time together. We ate, we swam, we enjoyed America's pastime -- we celebrated.

And it totally wore out these Hoods. Everyone left early Sunday morning and we played hooky from church just to regroup a little. And I enjoyed what is now my favorite day of the year - with my two favorite people.

Happy Mother's Day to me.

Who says you can't go home?

I just sat here for ten minutes trying to think of a good way to describe the feeling I get when I drive to Cabot.

Nada.

I don't know. It's weird. I haven't lived there in over ten years, but it's such a special part of who I am. And every single time I close in on the intersection of Highway 319 and Highway 5 - and start seeing business signs with "843" phone numbers listed on them, I get this combination of excitement and anxiety and nostalgia and - I don't know what.

See?

Nada.

It's been so long now that I don't really expect to see people I know at the gas station or when I walk on campus at the high school. Heck, the kids in school there now were about six years old when I left for college. They don't care about who I was in high school. They don't care that I graduated with honors or had the lead in the school play or lettered in band.

But that's not why we go back. We go back so that no one forgets him. We go back so that no one forgets that Tom Martin went to CHS. He loved it there. He graduated and went on to do good, noble, selfless things. And he was within months of his 10 year reunion when we got the news that he wasn't ever coming back home to Cabot.

So now we go for him.

Last week, my family and I traveled to Cabot High School to present the 4th Annual 1LT Tom Martin Memorial Scholarship to a very deserving Cabot High School senior - Kevan Sharp.

Left to Right: Leo Rangira, Laura Martin Rangira, Erika Noyes, Kevan Sharp, Candy Martin, Ed Martin, Sarah Martin Hood.

This was the first year that our family had personally selected the scholarship recipient and it was every bit as rewarding as we had hoped. Becky and Jason weren't able to make it -- but we hope the entire board can be together in Cabot to present the scholarship someday in the very near future.

It was special to be there. It was special to be able to talk about Tom to a whole new generation of Cabot High School students. We chatted with old friends and former teachers -- and we told lots and lots of stories.

I may not be able to describe that Cabot feeling - but it is unmistakable.

*****

Click HERE to learn more about The 1LT Tom Martin Memorial Foundation. And HERE to find us on Facebook. And, of course, HERE or HERE to learn more about the man himself.

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.- Tom Martin (and Garrison Keillor...)

Exciting news!

It's been a long time coming, and has been an absolute labor of love -- and I'm thrilled we can finally announce it to everyone.

The 1LT Tom Martin Memorial Foundation

When Tom was killed in 2007, our family cooperated with the founding of the 1LT Tom Martin Memorial Scholarship through Cabot High School in Cabot, Arkansas. The scholarship has been awarded for the past three years and we've been thrilled to support the efforts of the Cabot Scholarship Foundation.

But as the years passed, we felt strongly there were bigger opportunities for Tom's legacy. So The 1LT Tom Martin Memorial Foundation was born. The scholarship still exists and will still support a graduate of Cabot High School, Tom's alma mater. But we intend to broaden the scope to include other ways to support young leaders serving their communities.

Take a minute to visit the website: www.tommartinfoundation.org and find us on Facebook.

And - as always - thank you for all the thoughts and prayers of support over the years.  

 

When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.
-- Frederick Buechner

Without a witness, they will disappear.

To my knowledge, Laura isn't home yet - so no wedding pictures yet. Trust me, you people will be the first to know when I get the green light to post them.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share something else we were able to do while in Dallas this past weekend. The quilt. I finally got to see the quilt in person.

I first wrote about the quilt about a year ago, right after it was dedicated at the 4th Annual Time of Remembrance in Washington. Each state is represented by a fallen soldier with ties to that state. Tom represents South Dakota, in the lower left-hand corner of the quilt.

It was very cool to see the quilt in person and to meet Julie Feingold, the artist -- and hear the story straight from her of the true labor of love this project has been. It's not hard to tell that she's a special lady with a very special story to tell. I won't go into detail about the symbolism and the stories, but I encourage you to visit the website if you're interested in reading more.

The quilt travels around the country and is displayed at various events in various venues. But this event was particularly special, and I suspect the team will try its best to make this weekend an annual quilt display event.

Snowball Express is an organization dedicated to supporting the children of fallen heroes. Sadly, there are almost 12,000 children in this country under the age of 18 who have lost a parent while serving since 9/11. Snowball partners with American Airlines and other sponsors in order to host an annual event allowing those kids to fly from their homes across the country and spend a weekend together, forming friendships and bonds that will help them support each other and their families as they heal from their loss.

The Lost Heroes Art Quilt keepsake companion book is available for sale anywhere the quilt is displayed. And after expenses, 100% of the proceeds from the sale of the book are donated to Snowball Express. So it's an organization near and dear to those closest to the quilt.

Snowball was this weekend. And one downtown Dallas hotel was brimming with kids, some of whom are approaching their first Christmas without their Mom or Dad.  And watching them walk up to the quilt and look over the faces -- it makes you hug your family a little tighter.

Links:

• The Lost Heroes Art Quilt
• Snowball Express
• The Lost Heroes Art Quilt on Facebook

My other brother

I met Jason at the Newark Airport in May 2005. I was arriving from Northwest Arkansas to help Tom celebrate graduation from West Point and Jason had driven over from the Academy to meet his family just arriving from Mississippi and waiting for their luggage at the carousel next to mine. We both recognized each other instantly.

"Hi. I'm Jason."

"I know who you are! I'm Sarah."

We hugged. And chatted like we had known each other for years. Because in some ways, we had. Tom had posted many a photo and story about Jason on his blog over the years they'd known each other in school and - knowing Tom and his propensity for storytelling - I'm guessing my name may have come up at least a few times. Now here we were, finally meeting in person.

Tom and Jason were great friends through school. Best friends. Two guys who had both grown up with nothing but sisters -- now had a brother. They went skydiving together. They got into trouble together. They kept in close touch as they graduated and moved on to their careers and later deployments.

And when I got the worst news of my life, and traveled home to be with my family during that hard week of memorial services, funeral and burial - Jason was there. He loyally stood by my family - his family - at our worst. He knew that Tom would have done the same for him. There was no doubt in his mind where he belonged that week. He bravely spoke at Tom's funeral, words so genuine and loving -- I still marvel at the strength he had to say them.

My sisters and I were so grateful to have Jason there that week - a solid hug, an easy smile, a truly devoted friend. And as if there were any doubt Tom and Jason were kindred spirits - we did our fair share of laughing that week. We told stories, we shared pictures, and Jason taught me to play paper football at my parents' kitchen table.

Here's the entire family at West Point for Tom's burial services in October 2007. Left to right: Dad, Laura, Mom, Jason, Erika, Becky, Sarah, Jeff.

And the last time Jason and Tom saw each other, in Iraq a few months before he was killed.

Jason is currently serving his second deployment - this time in Afghanistan. He's away from his wife Jessica and their three kiddos - Carter, Katie, and baby Tom - and I've been thinking about him a lot this week. It's Thanksgiving, right? And I can't think of a better time to remember and thank people like Jason who spend their lives in service - whether that service is to the military and this country or to my family when we needed it most.

I twisted his arm and made him give me suggestions of things he and his guys could use over there - in case anyone is interested in sending a package in time for the holidays.

• They can always use the necessities like shampoo -- miniatures and small bottles are best. Or hand sanitizer, toothpaste, or batteries.
• Food: chocolates, Little Debbie cakes, beef jerky, granola bars, gum, any other snack food.
• For fun: books/magazines -- anything you may have already read and could pass on, CDs/DVDs.

CPT Jason Hillman
25th Signal Battalion
APO AE 09320

And of course an email hello will do - any day of the week. emailjasonhillman@yahoo.com

Jason, I'm thankful for you.