Places

There are many places on this planet that I can't get enough of.  Many great vacations spent on the Outer Banks of North Carolina make me eager to get back to Duck every summer for at least a week.  Consol Energy Center, where my beloved Pittsburgh Penguins now play and across the street where the old Civic Arena stood are special places.  PNC Park and Heinz Field, the Field House at Pitt and Rec Hall on the campus at Penn State also have that exciting comfortable feel.  There are other place we avoid.  Places where we are reminded of awful memories and dark times.  The diffculty of the next few chapters makes me think of these places.
     For me, one of those places used to be West Penn Hospital, where Ellen and I spent 3 days after Maggie's birth. To say it was hectic would be the understatement of the year.  The pressure and tension was constant.  In the three days we were there, we were down, then hopeful, then down again.
After Maggie passed I never wanted to be near that place again.
At the time I was delivering office supplies all over the city, and was around West Penn almost daily.
I routed myself around that hospital so that I never passed in front of it.
    It wasn't until I signed up for the Pittsburgh Marathon that I realized I would have to deal with this once and for all.  The marathon passed right through Bloomfield and right by the hospital.  It was the 20 mile mark.  A place where even the best runners will tell you is a testy part of the race.  Bloomfield was also one of the most popular spots on the marathon route for spectators.  It's largely Italian population came out on the street, cooked food, drank beer, and cheered on the passing runners.  It was a Red, White, and Kelly street party.
   That first year I found myself struggling, knowing what was coming up.  As I made my way up Liberty Ave. I started to cry, I couldn't breathe, and wouldn't you know it, the sweeps bus(the bus that took people who"stepped off" the course to the finish line) was with me stride for stride.  I hated that bus!  Lots of people recognized me struggling without knowing why and shouted encouragement.  Just before reaching "the place" I pulled it together by telling the sweeps bus to F' off, picking up the pace and rolling past the hospital.  I sprinted through the happiest part of the marathon and down the hill towards the Point and the finish line off in the distance.  With the hardest part of the marathon behind me, I had no trouble with the flats in Lawrenceville or the streets of downtown Pittsburgh.
I ran passed that hospital in a few subsequent marathons, but none were as hard as that first time.
Demon exercised, in a few senses of the word.
    In the chapters ahead there are new "places".  One such place is Applebee's at the Pittsburgh Mills.
On one awful evening, a few days after Christmas in 2012, I spent 15 minutes screaming my complaints to God.  "How could You?  Your plan sucks.  Do You hate us?"  There were no answers, just another place I can't stand...

#summerofUS What's in a hashtag?

     I started using the hashtag, #SummerofUS about two months ago.  For those of you who don't use twitter, a hashtag is used to keep track of a story or the progression of information on twitter.  Type in the hashtag and you can see the most recent or most popular "tweets" with said hashtag.  Usually it's something catchy or funny about the subject, and in it's best use, draws further attention to the story.  That isn't at all what the #SummerofUS was meant to do.  It was just an expression of my emotion about the upcoming summer.

Winners of the Jaime Vick Moran Scholarship announced!

     What have we done with our story?  How do champions react to adversity and personal tragedy?
Driven by the Jam the Gym movement, and the ongoing efforts of the Vick family, Jaime's memory continues to be honored by the Jaime Vick Moran Scholarship.  Two scholarships are given to Kiski Area senior female athletes every year.  This year, three young ladies will receive recognition and be awarded Scholarship funds.  Gracie McDermott won first prize, and a $1,000 scholarship and Rachel Frye and Morgan Kiebler tied for second prize and will each receive $500.
     It is with great pride that I share Gracie's award winning essay here. I hope you find it as moving and inspiring as I did.  All three of these young ladies will represent Jaime's scholarship well!!!

I was a Kiski Area volleyball player during the era of, well, everything.  In the six years I spent on the team, I lived through every defining moment that makes KAVB so special.  As a seventh grader, I began my journey by learning the ropes of the sport and getting a feel for the first real team I’ve ever really been a part of.  Little did I know, this team would go on to change the outcome of the rest of my life.

When I was in eighth grade, Jaime’s leukemia came back. Jodie took over the role of coach as her treatment went on, but I remember how she’d smile when she visited matches every once in a while.  Ninth grade was the year of what Ellen calls the “Y-factor.”  I watched as Thad Paunovich took to the court despite bleachers full of furious spectators across the WPIAL.  In September, we jammed the gym for the very first time.  The stands flooded with orange that year, and when I was in tenth grade, they were purple for Jam the Gym 2.  When I was just about to enter eleventh grade, we were gathered into a “team meeting” in Pitt’s locker room.  I didn’t know it yet, but these gatherings would become all too familiar over the next year.

Jaime was really sick, Ellen told us, and we weren’t sure of how much longer she had left.  In August, I got the phone call.  Dressed in our purple, my team leaned on each other and mourned the loss of one of the most beautiful women in our lives.  A few months later, KAVB rallied the community for the third Jam the Gym.  This one was by far the most emotional.  I will never forget how we stood hand in hand as we listened to a moving cover of ‘Hallelujah.’

When December came, we lost Jenna.  For me, it felt like my entire world was crashing down.  Nothing made sense to any of us at that point, but we clung to each other as we tried to understand.  As we healed, another bomb was dropped: Ellen’s cancer was back.  To no one’s surprise, my team overcame.

Trials of adversity and tragedy have led me here: my very last year as a volleyball player.  I was blessed to be chosen as captain of my girls for my senior year and watch them grow over the season.  I guess what I’m trying to show with this time line is that, looking back, I was directly affected by everything that has ever happened to our program.  To future players, it’ll surely be a story of the past.  But for me, it was my present.  It was our present.

While I could write a book about everything that I’ve learned through the Kiski Area Volleyball program, I thought I’d save you all some time by zeroing in on only one topic: strength.  Being strong, as you know as well as I do, is so much more than a physical quality.  After my six years, it is safe to say that I have learned the true meaning of the word.

As an Iron Woman of Maggie Jones’ summer conditioning program, I watched myself grow physically stronger.  I pushed myself in practice, building endurance and power for our games.  I have never been the most muscular or the fastest girl on the court, but it was incredible to see how my performance was enhanced after a summer of dedication.

 The lessons I learned about emotional strength will also always be with me.  As you probably know, I am not afraid to express my emotions.  I will admit that I spent many days out of the last six years crying because that’s just my way of coping.  Through the tears, I have grown stronger in my ability to realize how both beautiful and fragile life is.  I understand that nothing should ever be taken for granted.  Learning to rise above adversity has given me the strength to overcome absolutely anything that I will encounter in the future.

I feel that the social aspect of strength ties together my whole idea of the word.  Being a Kiski Area volleyball player opened my eyes to the overwhelming power a group can possess.  I saw how a bunch of teenage girls (and one boy) were able to unify when faced with more turbulence than any team should ever have to go through.  Parents, players, and coaches alike rallied for awareness and support.  Together, we proved to the community that strength really is in numbers.

As I start this new and exciting chapter of my life, I am able to reflect upon the undeniable strength this program has taught me.  Physical power is important to the definition of ‘strong.’  However, taking emotional and social aspects into consideration has brought me to the most accurate interpretation of the six letter word.  The true meaning of strength can be found behind every single member of the Kiski Area volleyball program, including myself.  I know that my strength will shine through no matter where I am in life.  I can attribute how strong I’ve become to the remarkable story of hope and courage that will be told for generations to come.

Wherever I go, I will always carry our story with me.

Tee shirt art for Jam the Gym 5...
What do you think???

Check out the "trailer" to our blog!
Great music, touching photographs, and our story.

The Journey, Our Volleyball Story

Our story in the media

As we approach this part of the story, I wanted to share this video with you all.  Up until this point I had seen Jaime being so courageous, helping Ellen deal with her treatments, sharing tips and stories about what she was going through.  I'm not sure I had ever seen her down.  In this video she did with Andrew Stockey she let her guard down a bit.  I'm not sure many of us outside her family saw her this vulnerable, and I remember that it shook me up. 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IG8SB_12z_E

Later as Thanksgiving approached Jory Rand came out to the school to do a special story on both Ellen and Jaime.  By this time both were doing so well, and the mood was much more positive.
http://pittsburgh.cbslocal.com/video?autoStart=true&topVideoCatNo=default&clipId=5327929

We are so thankful for the media and their professionalism and kindness. 

Video from the first gathering of Fluorescent Angels

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1144405267097&set=vb.1736484072&type=2&theater


Thanks to my Flyer fans in Philly!  Ricky C., You da man!

Did you know you should "Expect More"?

Our story Compelled KDKA to make us part of their "Expect More" commercial series.
You can view it right here...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7ys0FVJZDo

Debbie Vick, Jaime's mom remembering "The Bus Ride"

After I write a new chapter in the pages area you see above here, I like to add something out here about what was written.  Last week I got a touching e mail from Jaime and Jodie's mom Debbie Vick.  It helps detail how her daughter felt the night of the Franklin match.  

Hi Tim:

Reading your latest post last night brought back a flood of memories and tears.  My first thought was back to the night after the game that Ellen got the news.  Dave was in Chicago and I was sitting watching television.  Usually when Jaime came home after a game we always sat and talked about the game and her day.  That night she walked in, sat down next to me and told me what Ellens diagnosis was.  Then she lost it.  After we both held each other and cried..she looked at me and I will never forget what she said to me....Ellen is going to be fine.  She has a long road ahead but I am going to be there for her every step of the way!  She is too good a person.  I NEED her to get through this.  We then discussed what she felt she needed to do.  Jodie stated it so well...she was just so matter of fact...nothing was going to stop her. 

Tim, you GOT Jaime.  Reading about your ride back in the car... Jaime also shared that with me.  She truly loved being a part of your volleyball world and I am so glad you have many good memories of her.  Thank you Tim for sharing and being a part of Jaime's life and our family's life.

Love you,

Debbie 

         Thank you Deb for allowing me to share this personal account.   Your strength is amazing and
         knowing these things about how Jaime felt helps me believe.
         

This is getting so difficult

      I know that writing these stories has a dual purpose.  One is to detail this courageous story one last time, making sure we have it here, so we can remember.  The other is more selfish.  I need to get this out of me, before the memories fade.  There is a cost however as I get closer and closer to the parts of this story I hate the most.
      Keep in mind this is an emotional journey we have been on.  I have LOVED the people in this story, all of them.  Obviously Ellen, but Jaime, Dan, Jodie, Maggie, Dave and Deb, and Mark and the players and their families who have been so supportive of us as we continue.  I ask for your prayers as I take this story forward, to places I find hard to go.  I promise to be accurate and honest about how I have felt on the darkest days of my fifty plus years.
      Some of it will be harsh, some of it will be sad, but some of it should serve to inspire you in some way.  I have been blessed to be surrounded by the love and support of our community, and people I have never met, thousands of miles from here.  I guess that is the hopeful side to this incredible story.  Thank you all so very much!
With love,
Tim
     

Jaime's Gift

      One of the things I always found so interesting about Jaime Moran was this gift she had.  I like to watch people, so on many occasions I got to watch it play out.  Jaime could steal a room just by walking into it.  It was fun to watch others as they discovered her.  She turned heads everywhere she went.  At restaurants, in gyms, at church, and just walking down the street.  You might say well yes, she was very, very pretty and I wouldn't doubt it was a factor, but there was far more to it than outward beauty.
      First of all, Jaime never simply walked, she kind of floated in this effortless, confident way.  It caught your attention not because she was trying to, but because it was so graceful and elegant.  She also possessed an aura unlike anyone I had ever met.  Instantly you knew you were in the presence of somebody special.  Kindness radiated from her and being near her felt good.  In the time I got to spend with Jaime, she never had a bad word to say about anyone, and always searched for the positive in every situation, even in the most difficult of times.
     I like to tell about our trip to York, when Jaime helped coach for Westmoreland Elite.  We got to spend a lot of time with her, and chatted for hours about many things.  Jaime had come all the way back.  She was in the best shape of her life, having completed the entire P90X training videos.  She was so obviously in love.
When the weekend was complete we had a long ride home.  Breaking up the long ride, we started listening to some of the comedy CD's I had packed.  Jim Gaffigan had her laughing so hard that it made us laugh even harder.  Then I had this moment, this rush of realization that this was special.  In the back seat our lovely friend Jaime laughed so easily, so freely, and in the seat in front of her, I cried joyful tears, laughing through them.  Jaime Moran was in a special place, and I just felt so damned privileged to share it that day.
So this unlikely carload continued west on the turnpike.  Ellen in the drivers seat, as always, getting us safely home.  Me riding shotgun, smiling and wiping away tears.  Jaime in the backseat, enjoying the ride as few of us will ever know.

It wasn't just the season that was magical, it was the people.

If you just read my last chapter, "Coaching Plum, wearing purple?" you probably think the best part of our first year at Plum had to be winning that state championship.  Whelp, not even close...
You see, the best part, was meeting an extraordinary family, not knowing that their strength would be the lesson we were there to learn. 
The McDowell's.  Gretchen, single mother of three.  One in college, two in high school.  This set up would stress any couple plenty, but she was doing it alone!  We never pried or ask, we could just sense that Mr. McDowell's passing had happened recently.  It wasn't talked about, and so we respectfully stayed away from the subject.
  David, the oldest.  We met Dave when he came home from college at William and Mary, where he was a standout wide receiver.  I sensed we needed to win Dave over.  He was suspicious of our friendship with his family.  Under the circumstances, we totally understood.  Dave was thrust into the man of the house role, and now he was away from that home.  It couldn't have been easy for him.
Jenny, the young girl I described in the last chapter as angry and alone.  There was a storm brewing it her.  She had taken whatever had happened to her father the worst, and she wasn't afraid to show it.  But like most people, inside that tough outer shell she put on was a hurt kid who needed a push in the right direction.
Ellen and I were determined to help with that shove!
Amy, the youngest.  Amy always felt like a little sister to me, maybe because she reminded me of my own little sister also named Amy.  She was quick to laugh and funny to be around.  Whatever happened affected her the least, she was just too young to take it all in. 
The McDowell's.  A walking, talking, lesson in grace, faith and courage, mostly because the woman in charge who taught us lessons we didn't even know we were getting, ones that looking back, were no coincidence.
On many nights, driving home from a visit to their home on Tahoe St. Ellen and I would say to each other how much better we always felt after spending time with Gretchie, Jenny and Amy.  There was something very powerful, very good about Gretchen McDowell, her influence on her three children, and the idea that we happened into their lives at this point.  Just another wonderful case of being in the intersection at just the right time.,,
Gretchen passed away a few years ago, and though I miss her very much, most times I know the kind of things she'd say, and I can tell you with great certainty that she is still helping us today.

With all my love to you, David, Jenny, and Amy! 

Forward. Collisions and Traffic

I believe life consists of millions of busy intersections.  Sometimes we get safely through them, and sometimes we collide.  These Collisions can be good or bad, and can vary in intensity from minor to life altering.  They will happen.  Everyday, all day.  Some of them alter your planned route, sending you into another potential collision.  When I look back upon the road taken, it amazes me.  So many wonderful people, so many great, inspiring, and sometimes sad stories to tell.  Yet I am compelled to tell this story, recount this journey, once and for all. 
Some people refer to this as God's will.  I'd like to think He created the traffic down here, and He delights in watching his creation, watch US trying boldly to get from place to place without running in to one and other, knowing we WILL collide. 
In effort to thank Him for the collisions in my life, I will recount them here.