Heading to the Slammer - In the Beginning...

                This morning, Joey and I visited the MDA Nashville office to drop off a couple of checks that I acquired over the weekend in support of my Lock-Up bail.  While we were there, my “parole officer” introduced us to some of the Volunteer Recruiters whose job it is to reach out to folks seeking their involvement in the Lock-Up and other MDA events.  Rachael asked me to tell them why, in 2009, I said “yes” when one of their past counterparts called me.  I told them that, unfortunately, I did not recall who the person was on the other end of the phone, but that I was so glad they called me and that I said “yes” that day.  I told them that the caller shared that someone had told the MDA that I would be a good person to contact to participate in the Lock-Up.  I did not learn the identity of that “someone” at the time and still do not know who “turned me in” to be locked up.  If they ever read this blog, let it stand as a big “thank you.”  I’ve enjoyed every bit of my involvement.  As for my reason for saying “yes” at the time, I simply shared that the person who called me conveyed a level of simplicity in the fundraising process.  That was important, because there were few weeks left before the Lock-Up event when I was originally recruited.  The easy usage of a personal bail-raising website with a link I could e-mail to others or post on Facebook appealed to me.  I told the Volunteer Recruiters that my gears started turning during that initial call and that, while I didn’t execute them quickly enough, plans were cooking to fuel my first summer of MDA fundraising.  It had also been two or three years since I had been involved in any significant philanthropic work, and I was missing that connection to a worthwhile cause.  I had done some events and activities in support of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital from elementary school through college but hadn’t linked with it in any way since moving to Nashville.  I rambled on a bit more about the experience I’d had each year, too.  But Rachael’s question got me thinking more about the real origin of my involvement with the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

                While I had planned to write some thoughts about this deeper origin today, it was ironic that Rachael would ask me to address “the beginning” this morning with folks who are working hard to bring more jailbirds like me into the fold.  Now, I want to go a few steps beyond that first phone call and share what has drawn me closer to my experience as a jailbird.  While it took me a few years to piece all of this together, it makes that initial “yes” and my pattern of the MDA automatically being part of my summer make so much sense.

                The initial phone call that the MDA Nashville staff and I discussed this morning came in late May or early June of 2009.  At that time, I had very recently seen my Granddaddy, Vernon Rhodes, alive for the last time (Mothers Day of 2009).  We would lay him to rest a few days later in mid-May.  While I was, for the most part, at peace with his departure from this life to one far better, there was a new hole in mine.  Not consciously seeking to fill it, I think Granddaddy may have inspired me to do so anyway.  I had never been involved with a lock-up-style fundraiser before.  However, I had some vague understanding of it, because I knew one person who had – my Granddaddy.  In the late 1990s, he participated in a lock-up fundraiser in my hometown of Lexington, Tennessee supporting St. Jude.  I believe he did it a few times, but I distinctly remember one year (maybe ’97 or ’98) when I saw the fundraising letter that was sent to my parents on his behalf.  I also remember seeing the picture of him “behind bars” and thinking that it was a fun set-up.  Granddaddy and I talked about how it went in the days after, and I believe he raised several hundred dollars for St. Jude (another amazing cause) that day.  Back then, such events didn’t see as much pre-emptive fundraising, and most folks sought donations in the last few days before the event.  As a well-respected man in our community, leader in our church, and retired businessman with (as far as I ever knew) a flawless ethical reputation, he was a prime target for such a fundraiser.  Call everyone you know and bring in as many dollars as you can.  That’s the philosophy and practice behind such fundraisers.  It works, too.  You just need to have fun with it.  My most distinct remembrance of his participation, though, is in the form of a mug they gave him filled with candy and a few other small items as a “thank you” for participating.  I remember it well because he gave it to me (and maybe some of the candy).  The mug became the pencil cup on my desk at my parents’ home and, even after moving before my senior year of high school, it still is and sits on that desk in Lexington today. 

                Though not a fundraiser for St. Jude, perhaps the Muscular Dystrophy Association was meant to offer me that opportunity at that time to give me an added ounce of linkage to my Granddaddy’s legacy.  Beyond many other great attributes and lasting lessons he taught me, he was always a very giving and service-minded man.  As a long-time member of the Lexington Lions’ Club, he enjoyed the fellowship of the club but took its service and charity work very seriously.  He knew the mission and made it a priority in his involvement.  That same example emerged in other charities with which he helped. 

                I wish my Granddaddy could laugh at me behind the MDA’s jail bars.  I know he would get a kick out of it.  But, I also think it was my turn to “take over the cell” after he left this world.  While none of the Rhodes musical talent made it into my makeup, I treasure every connection to my Granddaddy that I find in myself.  In this case, I think the connection found me.  And, it all started with a friendly phone call from the MDA in the summer of 2009.  I’ll go behind bars for as long as I can with the MDA, and I’ll always appreciate the inspiration of the man who was the first jailbird to me.

                Donations have already been made in Granddaddy’s memory this year.  If he were here, he would be the first to join me in supporting the MDA. Will you join us now, too?  Is there someone in your life who always gave of themselves when they could?  Give in their honor or memory today.  It will even give a little back to you, because your contribution is tax-deductible.  Please, help us find cures to neuromuscular diseases and help us serve those living with these ailments every day.  What would your Granddaddy do?  My jail sentence will be carried out in one month, but you can join the breakout today!

http://www2.mda.org/site/TR/Lock-Up/LockUp2015-National?px=2212926&pg=personal&fr_id=19900

Heading to the Slammer - Because We're Not All Doctors

                Last Thursday, my son gave me a simple, yet powerful, reminder of why raising money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association is important for me to do.  Naturally, Joey did it in his blunt, funny, innocent three-year-old kind of way, but he really got me thinking and further inspired me to try to help the folks that the MDA serves in the limited ways that I can. 

Though I was participating in MDA’s Executive Lock-Up three years before he was born, having Joey in my life added a lot of inspiration and perspective to this activity each summer.  From rolling over to crawling to walking and now being all over the place in a split second, I have witnessed my son’s mobility enhance at many levels over 3-and-a-half years.  As each Lock-Up came around after his birth, that got me thinking more seriously about the fact that many individuals served by the MDA either didn’t make it to the levels that Joey has or their physical abilities declined at some point in life.  That’s a problem that must be addressed.  That is also why I admire the fact that the MDA funds and facilitates BOTH research for treatment and prevention AND resources and activities that help patients of muscle disease do as much as possible in spite of physical limitations.  They address all sides of the challenge.  However, beyond that added inspiration to see others able to be as active as Joey, he has added his own personal brand of philosophy to the mission.

While most of the donations that we “jailbirds” receive is through a Lock-Up bail-raising website, we also take cash and checks directly.  When I receive donations that way, I try to deliver them to the Nashville MDA office as soon as I can.  Over the last two years, I’ve taken Joey there with me on a few occasions, and he has always been a big hit (of course!).  The last time I was there, my “parole officer,” Rachael, insisted that I bring Joey the next time I visit.  Ask and she shall receive!  (The local MDA office is also located between our home and Joey’s daycare.)  When Joey and I left our home last Thursday morning, I told him that we were going to visit some of our friends.  He asked me who it was, and I told him that we needed to take some money to Miss Rachael and that she was looking forward to seeing him because she hadn’t in a few months.  We got in the car, turned on an Elvis CD, and started driving toward Brentwood.  With a Joey-style series of questions, he got me thinking a bit deeper about my forthcoming “time behind bars.”

Joey:  Where are we going, Daddy?”

Me:  We’re going to see Miss Rachael at the MDA office.

Joey:  What’s a MDA office?

Me:  (pausing and thinking of how to explain this in 3-year-old terms) Well, the MDA helps people who are sick with diseases that cause them to have trouble walking or moving around like you and me.  It’s a disease called muscular dystrophy.

Joey:  Oh….  But I’m not sick.

Me:  No, you and I don’t have muscular dystrophy.  But some people do, and it makes some things tough for them.  The MDA helps those people go to the doctors they need and get the equipment that helps them move around and play.  But, all of that costs money, and we try to raise money each year to help them pay for all of that.  Today, we’re taking some of that money to Miss Rachael.

Joey:  Oh, ok.  That’s good!

                Knowing that I had probably gone too far and gotten a little too deep, I waited for the inevitable follow-up question or simply a whole new topic.  Joey didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, but soon picked up where he left off as we were about to turn into the parking lot.

                Joey:  Is Miss Rachael a doctor?

                Me:  No, Miss Rachael isn’t a doctor.

                Joey:  (emphatically) Why?

                Me:  (laughing) I don’t know.  Am I a doctor?

                Joey:  No.

                Me:  Well, why not?

                Joey:  Because you’re not.

                Me:  Ok, well, Miss Rachael isn’t a doctor either.

                Joey:  But, why?

                Me:  I’m not sure, son.  But you should ask her when we go inside.

                Joey:  Ok.  I will.

                When we entered the office, the MDA Nashville staff was hard at work preparing for some of their many summer activities.  Everyone stopped to chat with Joey, and I turned over the donation we had come to deliver.  Though talkative in the car, Joey switched to his slightly shy mode inside amongst the group.  Rachael charmed a few lines out of him with her enviable energy and positive personality, but Joey never came out with “the question” of the day.  After a few minutes, I asked “Joey, weren’t you going to ask Miss Rachael something?”  He wouldn’t budge.  I tried a little more, but finally told her myself that Joey had asked if she was a doctor and then asked why not when I told him that she was not.  Rachael knelt down in front of him with a smile and said, “Well, I guess I’m a doctor of fundraising!”  Joey didn’t ask what that means and didn’t immediately start comparing types of doctors, but he seemed to like her answer.

                As we drove away a few minutes later, I simply followed everything up by saying, “So, I guess Miss Rachael is a kind of doctor, isn’t she?”  To which Joey just replied, “Yeah, she is.  I like the MDA office.”  I told him that I do too and that we would be back there before long.  Joey is in a phase now where he knows when we are close to a place with which he is familiar, and he wants me to be sure to pass by it or point it out to him.  Twice already since that visit, he has made sure that I show him when we pass the Nashville MDA office.  After church on Sunday, just before reaching that section of Old Hickory Boulevard, he pointed to four different buildings and asked, “Is that the MDA office?”  When I finally pointed out the real thing as we passed it, I heard a loud “Yay!” 

                Maybe Joey will be helping the Muscular Dystrophy Association in some direct capacity someday.  Until then, he helps my small efforts a lot.  In this case, he reminded me that, as much as I would like to cure neuromuscular disease – I can’t.  But, just because we’re not all doctors or scientists, we can all find our ways of helping.  For the last seven years, mine has been to raise a few dollars to fuel the efforts and fund the people who, I believe, will one day end this plague.  So, if Joey ever asks why we jailbirds raise money, I can simply say, “Because we’re not all doctors.”  Whether you are a doctor or not, I hope you will join us.

The Moments - Chapter 18: Family Trees Grow In Disneyland and Dreamland

                Growing up around a lot of my extended family, I got pretty good and keeping track of how I am related to people and “what level of cousins” I am with folks who may not even realize we share blood.  It’s a complicated process, and I know I wasn’t always good at it as a little boy.  Figuring all of that out starts, naturally, with one’s close family and the realization that there is a biological or official connection associated with the names and titles we use for members of our family.  Joey gave some funny reminders of this recently. 

                Last Wednesday, as is our typical after-dinner routine, we called my parents (Daddy J and Mama Tee) for a few minutes before reading some books and getting ready for bed.  As it had gotten late, we decided to only read two books before Joey took a bath (we often read four or five).  Joey and I each chose a book, and Joey picked one of his new Bible story books with one-page versions of various Bible accounts from the Garden of Eden to the Resurrection.  When covering Joseph, this book places focus on the coat of many colors and the plot by Joseph’s brothers to cast him in a well and later sell him into slavery.  Joey has gotten into the habit of stopping me after reading a page in a book to ask questions or point out things that he finds interesting.  When we read the book’s short account of Joseph, he pointed to the picture of Joseph’s brothers and started talking about them.  Among the random points he made, he finally said, “But, I don’t have any brothers.”  To which I replied, “No, you don’t.  But I do.  Who is my brother?”  Joey sat there on my lap thinking for a moment.  I thought he would soon realize that the answer was “Uncle Dusty,” so I didn’t want to give it up too quickly.  His very frequent response of late, “I don’t remember,” came out.  I said, “Ok, if I have a brother, that means it is someone who has the same parents as me.  So who are my parents?”  This one, I didn’t think would be a problem, as my parents and I have pointed out several times that Mama Tee and Daddy J are my mommy and daddy.  Joey sat and thought longer, “Ummm.  Ummm.  Mickey and Minnie?”  I looked over at Krista who was sitting nearby and laughed.  “No, Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse aren’t my parents.  But don’t that sound fun?” I said as we laughed.  “No, not Mickey and Minnie.  Who are my parents?  They’re your grandparents.”  To that, Joey locked on with, “Mama Tee and Daddy J!”  Ok, first mission accomplished.  Now, back to the initial point.  I continued, “Ok, so if Mama Tee and Daddy J are my parents, who else would say that they are his parents?  Who is my brother?”  Joey’s look of deep thought was genuine, but I knew he needed a nudge, “It would be your Uncle ___.”  He filled in the blank with, “Uncle Larry?”  Kinda close.  “No,” I said, “Uncle Larry is Mama Tee’s brother.  My brother is your Uncle ___.”  He had it now, “Uncle Dusty!” he shouted.  Bingo!  We had us a winner.  Before continuing to read the book, I said, “That’s right.  Uncle Dusty.  And, I’m sure he’ll be happy to find out that Mickey and Minnie Mouse are now our parents.”  Genealogy lesson and Disney preview over.  Back to reading about the Lord.

                Krista headed home, and the rest of the night followed our usual routine: take a bath, put on pajamas, comb hair, brush teeth, go to bed.  I stayed up a while to straighten up the kitchen and iron some of Joey’s clothes.  However, he seemed to continue our earlier conversation when I checked on him later.  Before I went to bed, I quietly stepped into Joey’s room to check on him.  He was fast asleep but had maneuvered himself into a weird position with the covers.  I carefully reached down to adjust the sheet and comforter over him when I heard him say in his sleep, “Mama Tee.  Daddy J.”  I froze for a few seconds and then continued what I was doing.  As I pulled my hands away from him, I again heard “Mama Tee.  Daddy J.”  I had never heard him speak so clearly in his sleep.  Assuming our earlier talk had him dreaming about his grandparents, I stepped away and went to my room to visit dreamland as well. 

                Early the next morning, I was gently awakened when Joey climbed into my bed, where he would sleep the next 2 or 3 hours before getting up for the day.  I awakened at that point just enough to adjust my alarms so that I could get a few extra minutes of sleep in myself.  I fell back to sleep pretty deeply and later woke up from a disturbing dream.  It was good to see my little boy next to me after that.  He slept a while longer, and I began to get myself ready for the day.  When Joey later emerged from my room, just after 7:30, I was in the kitchen and he chose some cartoons for us to watch over breakfast.  Sleepy-eyed, he climbed on the chaise lounge in our living room and said, “I slept in your bed, Daddy.  I like
sleeping in your bed.”  I walked over to him and said, “Yes, you did.  I’m glad you did.  I had abad dream this morning, and I was glad that you were there when I woke up.”  Then, thinking about my experience with a sleep-talking Joey around Midnight, I asked, “Did you have a dream about Mama Tee and Daddy J last night, Joey?”  Thinking the response would be “yes” or “I don’t remember,” I was just a little surprised when he quickly replied, “No.  I had a dream about Elvis.”  I giggled a little and said, “Really?  You dreamed about Elvis?  Well, ok.”  Then Joey qualified his dream by saying, “Yeah, I dreamed about Elvis, because he’s done so much good stuff.”  Then, I went on preparing breakfast and Joey began to watch… you guessed it – The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
                At 3 years old, I think Joey climbs the family tree fairly well.  He loves his Uncle Dusty, even if he doesn’t automatically associate him as my brother.  And, he certainly loves his grandparents.  Apparently, he can’t quit talking about them (day or night!).  Even if he wants to declare Mickey and Minnie as my parents, I see that as the compliment of Joey realizing that I’m pretty close to being a living cartoon.  And, even if he doesn’t think he dreams about Mama Tee and Daddy J, I’ll bet they were singing backup for the King or playing supporting roles in whatever Elvis movie ran through Joey’s head that night.  Sweet dreams!

The Moments - Chapter 17: Drop It Like It's Hot

               It’s funny how unrelated events in the course of one day of Joey’s life can appear to me like parallel metaphors of each other. Ok, maybe it doesn’t happen often. And, maybe it only seems that way to me. But, you can decide if it makes for good reading. Enter an eventful Saturday (last Saturday, in fact) in my son’s life…
               As I had to work on this particular Saturday morning, my girlfriend, Krista, was kind

enough to stay with Joey and take care of him until I was off work in the early afternoon. After they watched a little TV and put together some puzzles, she took Joey to Percy Priest Lake to feed the ducks and geese that live there. After several minutes of letting Joey feed bread to the birds of the lake, Krista saw a little redheaded girl of about Joey’s age approach him and start chatting with him. He shared the bread with her that he was tossing to the birds, and the two of them had fun in their few minutes of instant connection. It’s always cute to see two toddlers have an “aha moment” when they act as though it’s fascinating to meet another little person. Krista wasn’t quite close enough to hear everything said between them, but she later told me that he, once again (see Chapter 11), didn’t know the little girl’s name when they left and he was talking about her.
               After their visit to the lake and another couple of errands, Krista and Joey surprised me at work as I was nearing quitting time. When Joey ran to me and started telling me about what he and Krista had already done, he mentioned a “girl with a feather” (sounds like a novel). He said that they fed the ducks together but that he “can’t remember her name.” Totally took me back to that afternoon at the Bounce Palace. Much like the “mysterious blonde” there, we now had another mystery woman – the “girl with a feather.” My son draws in the ladies, but doesn’t yet keep a little black book.
               After leaving my office, the three of us stopped at a Wendy’s for lunch. Krista and I poked a little fun at Joey over his new nameless girlfriend. He eventually said that, “I told her my name, but I can’t remember her name.” When asked if she had in fact told him her name, Joey assured us, “Yeah. I just don’t remember it.” My little player. We got a few laughs over it at lunch. Joey took a nap as soon as we got home to prepare for a fun afternoon.
               Before he woke up, I had decided to play Nintendo for a bit, and that is where he found me when he emerged from his bedroom. Asking to join me and the Mario Brothers for a while, Joey had me switch games to Super Mario Brothers 3 (one of the greats). While I have tried to keep his Nintendo-playing focused on Super Mario 1 until he figures out the basics, Joey has enjoyed the colors and graphics of Mario 3 (we all do!), and has us focus on it from time to time. I’m still working with him on basic video game-playing coordination, and he never gets very far in a game (yet). Each time his character “dies” on the game, I have taken to saying he was “so close,” which has made it a habit of Joey’s when we are playing as well. I had Mario in a position to play the first mini-fortress of World 1, and Joey wanted to handle the castle for us. However, he found his Mario in the first lava pit of the level a few times in a row, resulting in Mario’s “game over” status. “Why does we not want to fall in the lava?” Joey would ask. To which I replied, “Would you want to fall in hot lava? It burns!” Joey got it. He also lost interest soon enough that it wasn’t a problem.
               As I saw the wind picking up outside about the time Joey was finished with the

Mario Brothers, I suggested that we take his kite outside for a while. So, the rest of our afternoon was filled with kite-flying, a visit to the playground, and walking around to look for the ice cream truck that Krista and me thought we heard. It was a fun. All throughout, we made little jokes about him not knowing the name of “the girl with a feather.” At supper, I asked Joey if he had ever remembered her name, and he said, “No. But I told her my name.” To that, I asked, “Do you think she remembers your name, since you don’t remember hers?” He confidently and quickly said, “Yeah, she will remember my name.” After supper, Krista went home. As Joey and I were winding down, I felt like we had packed a lot of punch into one Saturday. As I usually do at bedtime, I got Joey talking about what all he had done over the course of the day. To me, the exchange sort of exemplified the off-the-wall comparison of two of his activities and the cavalier attitude he took with both of them, much like a suave player or a daredevil. Here’s our last conversation of the night:
               Me: We really had a big day, didn’t we, Joey?
               Joey: Yeah. We played with my kite.
               Me: Uh huh. And, you came to visit me at work. And, we ate at Wendy’s.
               Joey: And, I watched Veggie Tales. And, me and Krista fed the ducks.
               Me: With the girl with the feather…?
               Joey: Yeah.
               Me: But you don’t remember her name.
               Joey: No, I don’t remember it. But she knows mine.
               Me: And we played Mario.
               Joey: And I felled in hot lava.
               Me: (laughing) Yes, you did.
               Joey: Why did I fall in the lava?
               Me: I don’t know, son. Why did you fall in the lava?
               Joey: Because I was being so good.
               I quickly get tired of hearing the excuse, “you’re young, so you ought to _____.” However, in this case, Joey is young, so he ought to remember that girl’s name. Haha! As for Mario’s multiple brushes with death, I will either never get too serious about a few losses when I play Nintendo again or I’ll never take Joey near a volcano. Either way, he keeps the day fun and gives me a laugh at life.