Family ties that bind ... no matter what

I grew up the youngest in a family of 12 kids – 8 girls and 4 boys.  With 15 years between me and the oldest, I don’t remember a lot about all 12 of us being home at once. But I vividly remember life with the youngest 6, and I remember crazy, loud and often dysfunctional holidays.

The youngest 6 consists of me, my three sisters and two brothers.  They are 1, 2, 3, 4 and 7 years older than me, with Pete, or Petey, as we called him, being the oldest of us 6. We all walked to school together, and sometimes he would walk with us to the recreation center where we spent a lot of our time in the summer. He was the one who didn’t exactly play by the rules all the time and got into a bit of juvenile trouble. He and our dad had a very difficult relationship, so he ran away from home a lot. He was my big brother, and I loved him, so when he did run away, he would sneak into the backyard some nights to pick up clothes and a peanut butter or bologna sandwich that I would leave for him.

Right after high school he went into the Navy and served in Viet Nam. He used to write us about all his adventures in the Far East, and sometimes sent us little gifts.  When it came time for him to re-up in the Navy for another few years, the government denied him because he had been caught buying weed.

 He floundered for a while and became estranged from our family.  Every few years he would resurface briefly and let us know he was ok.

Thankfully, in our parents’ senior years, he and our dad made amends. We called him the prodigal son as he became a favorite child, finally. Our parents welcomed him back into their lives with open arms, and he would visit them occasionally, cooking amazing food for them since he was a self-trained chef in the merchant marines.  Peter being Peter, he would disappear for a while again and again, randomly reaching out after months or a couple of years. Any time we had a family reunion, he was usually the one sibling missing.  One year we made a stuffed dummy and put his picture on it so we could get a picture of all 12 of us kids.  

     When 9/11 happened, I got a call from him from out at sea after not having heard from him for years. He had never even met Jeff, but heard about us in the news and wanted to let me know he had my back. He did so in a way that made sense to him. I laughed at his gesture and shook my head, thinking Pete is still Pete!  But I appreciated hearing from him.

      He loved his career in the Merchant Marines, except that it kept him from his wife and step-daughter for extended periods of time.  He had his family at sea, though; loved cooking for them, and enjoyed the travel.

Although we weren’t often in touch, he did on occasion let us know about his experiences, like when they were pursued by a boat load of pirates.
     Two summers ago I was determined to get all 12 of us siblings together. I convinced him to join us for our family reunion in San Diego. It would be the first time in more than 25 years that we would all be together and the first time most of us had seen him in many years.  He stayed with the kids and me, and of course, cooked for us and made sushi rolls, much to the kids' delight. It was the first time many of his nieces and nephews, including my kids, met him. It was strange, and ironic, that of all the Schmitt siblings, he looks the most like our father. When our mom (who, at 95, has dimentia) saw him for the first time after several years, she looked as though she was staring at the ghost of our dad. 

      This past summer we learned from his daughter Tori that he was sick.  He had suffered a stroke and wasn’t expected to survive as his condition worsened.  Miraculously, he recovered from the stroke, but tests revealed he had advanced stages of lung cancer, likely caused by exposure to agent orange and years of smoking, and remained quite ill.  Some of us flew to California to see him, knowing it would probably be the last time.

Today Tori let us know that our brother is at the end of his life, and in the last few minutes, we found out he passed. None of us knew how we would react because of the way he was in and out of our lives. But family is family, and the bond is unbreakable. For 57 years we have been 12 siblings. Often times when I say I am the youngest of 12, people will ask if everyone is still living. I’ve always felt fortunate to say yes. Now facing the death of a brother is painful. But I’m grateful to have reconnected with him and to have met his daughter, who couldn't love him more if he were her biological dad. I’m grateful to her for being his family and loving him, even after her mother died of cancer years earlier. I’m grateful for the happy memories of our childhood. And I’m grateful to have had Petey as my big brother.  We will always be the 12 Schmitt kids from Yuma. 

May the angels guide you gently home in peace, big brother. I love you.

 

Remember Memorial Day

Each year the families who've lost a loved one in service or as a result of their service face Memorial Day with both pride and dread. This blog is my attempt to educate anyone I can about the real meaning of Memorial Day -- because it matters to the families, and therefore, it should matter to us. It's worth reposting each year, and this year, I repost at the request of a Gold Star family member.

Memorial Day was designated in 1868 by General John Logan as a day to honor soldiers killed in battle. It was originally called Decoration Day, as 5000 volunteers decorated the graves of the 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington.  The day was designated for the "purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country," according to General Logan, the national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.  

Simply put, it's a day to remember the fallen -- those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country. 

It wasn't intended to be a happy day, rather a day to honor and remember, and a day to reflect on the heroism of those who served and died for our country. When and how did "Happy Memorial Day" become the accepted sentiment? It is spoken by many throughout Memorial Day weekend, and when you stop to think, it makes no sense whatsoever. Would you ever say Happy Pearl Harbor Day, or Happy September 11, or Happy Anniversary on the anniversary of a loved-one's death?  It would seem insensitive and inappropriate to give such a greeting.  It's no different with Memorial Day.

The meaning of Memorial Day has been lost in car sales, barbeques, and Cape house openings. No one discourages a celebration of the weekend that signifies the unofficial start to summer, but just take some time to acknowledge its meaning -- attend a parade that honors our fallen, take your children to a local memorial and explain why the names are engraved on that wall, let them help plant flags on a veteran's grave. Teach them to respect the sacrifice the service members made as they bravely faced the enemy in defense of our country.

Memorial Day is also often confused with Veterans Day, and many will use it as a time to say thank you to Veterans and active duty/reservists.  Veterans Day, Nov. 11, is the day designated for thanking a vet.  Reserve Memorial Day for remembering the fallen -- "Memorial" does suggest a remembrance of someone no longer here.

The Flag Garden on the Boston Common is a beautiful and poignant reminder of the real meaning of Memorial Day. The idea came from a story told about the impact 3000 flags had on my daughter, a young college student away from home for her first time on the anniversary of 9/11, the day that took her father from her.  From there, the germ of an idea was born, and the first annual Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund garden of 20,000 flags (dating back to the Civil War) quickly grew.

 Now more than 37,000 flags cascade down from the Sailors and Soldiers Memorial, each flag representing a Massachusetts service member who died in service to our country or as a result of service since the Revolutionary War.  37,000.  It's a big number, and one that is hard to comprehend, until you see the flags.  They seem to wave in unison as the breeze catches them.   Nearly 300 of them represent the sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands, partners, mothers and fathers, friends and other relatives who died in service or as a result of service since 9/11. 

 It's difficult to look at the flags without feeling a connection; without seeing a tear from a child's eye who is missing his or her daddy; without feeling the pride of a father as he talks about his hero daughter; without hearing the pain in the laughter of siblings remembering the last time they were together before the uniformed military personnel showed up at their door with news of their loved one's passing. Each flag stands for a life -- for a family in mourning.  

A discussion of how best to honor the fallen heroes of the Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund Families on Memorial Day became a Garden of Flags that has now become a part of Boston's tribute to Massachusetts heroes for the last 9 years. Thousands visit the garden each day, taking pictures, marveling at the bittersweet beauty, and shaking their head at the numbers.  Thousands stop for at least a moment to realize there is a real meaning behind memorial Day -- to remember a life; to honor a family who feels the loss in their lives every day. 

So instead of saying Happy Memorial Day, encourage gratitude and respect for the sacrifices made. Honor and Remember the fallen on Memorial Day.  

Running for Good

Bad things happen to good people all the time, and while we try to understand why, it really just comes down to being part of life. People deal in many different ways, but I think becoming part of something bigger than ourselves is significant in helping some people cope through the grief.

The last six years the Jeff Coombs Memorial Foundation, which we created after 9/11 to give us a positive focus, has been fortunate to be part of something amazing – the John Hancock Boston Marathon Charity Program. The first time we applied for a bib, we were granted one to give to a runner who would be willing to raise at least $5,000 for the Foundation. A college friend of my daughter Meaghan was our willing guinea pig.  She was a runner at Roger Williams University and running Boston was on her bucket list. She exceeded her $5000 goal and added the Boston Marathon to her list of accomplishments. Surpassing our annual goal again the next year, we eventually received two bibs and had no problem recruiting runners from a long list of family friends. While they raised huge sums of money for the Foundation, we in turn were able to help women like Jess Kraiza, Leah Ammon, Meg Yanosick, Chelsei Kane, Brooke Maltby and Kim Lynch achieve their dream of running Boston. Last year we had our first male runners, and with the demand for charity bibs becoming more competitive, we upped our minimum fundraising amount to $7500 per runner. Alex London, my friend’s son, traveled from Edmond, Oklahoma and John “Jack” Walsh, a high school and college buddy of my son, came from Stanford, Connecticut to run and raise an impressive $40,000 with the help of a couple of fundraisers and generous donors, earning us an additional bib for this year.

 Alex’s wife, Dr. Danielle London, an  Orthodontic student at Oklahoma University, was so inspired by her husband in 2016 that she asked to run for us this year and is running her first marathon. So is young mom and nurse from Winchester Margaret Fratus. Wearing the third bib in his first Boston marathon is Air Force National Guard Reservist, decorated Army Veteran, and Ohio Police Officer Andrew Hickey, the son of a friend.

Boston Athletic Association Race Director Dave McGillivray said the Boston Marathon once had an intimidation factor, “but the walls of intimidation have crumbled … (and people are running) for a greater purpose than themselves.” 

That greater purpose is evident, even palpable, among the non-profit coordinators whose role is to guide our marathoners in their effort to raise money for our causes.  As Dave and the John Hancock Corporate Responsibility Team convey to us how special this program is, and how extraordinary the Boston Marathon has become, I feel fortunate, thankful and honored that our Foundation is part of this. John Hancock’s sponsorship of the Boston Marathon has resulted in a partnership with hundreds of non-profits, enabling small and large organizations to raise millions of dollars collectively. John Hancock gets it right -- they provide us with the means to raise money, advise us in the process, and even provide incentives along the way. Every penny we raise goes directly to the foundations for distribution as described in our mission statements.   It has given the Jeff Coombs Memorial Foundation another opportunity to raise upwards of $40,000, which goes out to the families and programs we assist. 

For the seventh year, I will stand on the sidelines in Boston as a very grateful and proud cheerleader to our runners. And I will think about all the good work the money they’ve raised (and will continue to raise through May) can do for those who need it, in the name of Jeff. 

www.crowdrise.com/jeff-coombs-memorial-foundation

Many thanks to all those who've donated or supported the Foundation and our runners' efforts in any way!