Family

What does Family look like to you?

To a distant cousin the term "family" is rejection by a father who didn't know her and a mother who was neglectful and resentful of a daughter who wasn't "supposed" to be born. Emotional abandonment. But that same amazing woman made a decision early on to redefine "family" in her adult life. Now "family" is a happy word. She triumphed against what she learned and pressed on to be a loyal, faithful, loving and caring wife and mother. She persevered to leave a legacy for her children that would not repeat generationally from the patterns from which she came.

To a sweet new friend, "family" can mean being an orphan, having lost both parents at much too young an age. Having her own family now, it can also be the traditional "family" and creating the security and love for her children that she can no longer find in her own parents.

For a close relative and countless friends, "family" is single parenting children in a world where society has been largely unforgiving and judgemental. It is being both the mom and the dad and trying to be everything to their little ones, while praying that they do not lose themselves in the process.

For other friends, "family" is their spouse and pets. Unable to have children, they have taken the life given to them and flourished, embracing the future with passion and determination to be full and all that it can be despite the emptiness they feel by being child-less.

For my mom "family" changed over time. As a young girl it was being abandoned by her father and living with her mom and grandparents. It was being protected by her grandmother in the strongest sense of the word from the cruelties that life had to offer while imprisoned in the genocide camps. My mom rose above the atrocities she witnessed, the struggles she faced and embraced her own marriage and children with a vengeance and passion that was fueled by a determination to end the cycle of violence that had plagued her ancestors.

For me, "family" is traditional. I was so fortunate to have been raised in a stable loving home with two parents and siblings. For me "family" has continued into its next generations defined the same way but with the blended family element. For me it was starting off married life with raising two boys who were not mine by birth, or even by choice, but by the commitment I made to Tony in front of God, my family and my friends. "Family" has continued to re-define as I see the boys reach adulthood and for the responsibility of "family" to primarily mean my birth children and husband.

How do you define family?

Quotables

Life isn't measured by the number of breaths we take,

but rather by the moments that take our breath away.

(author unknown)

Bone Marrow Brother (Part 2)

Releases were in place, so now it was time to wait for the one year mark to be contacted by the recipient. But, alas, around the last week in October the phone rang, unknown name and number. I answer only to have the person on the other end hang up. About a minute later, the phone rings again. I am met with a hesitant hello and brief pause. Finally, Bill introduces himself and explains who he is. I blurt out in utter shock that I am so happy to hear from him and he and I converse for about 20 minutes since Tony wasn't home. In hindsight, perhaps I stole Tony's thunder. It should have been him but it is what it is and I can't change it. The only part that I really remember clearly is that Bill said he was from Ohio and wanted to fly out next month to meet us. Only one problem with that, I explain. I am due to deliver a baby in the next 10 days. I am thinking that anytime before the first of the year isn't feasible, I continue. Though disappointed, Bill understands and eagerly awaits Tony's call to him later that night. When they did talk, there was an instant connection. They shared similar passions and interests and enjoyed their continuing phone calls over time.

Being winter what it is and scheduling conflicts, Bill decides to fly out to see us in early June. The National registry was informed of this meeting and sent a press release to the local media. On the morning of June 3 I remember the four of us waiting at the airport for his arrival. Security clearance didn't allow us to approach the gate so we waited outside the gates. While Tony was checking the in-coming flight televisions, I see a local television anchor and cameraman from NBC walk past me. I was assuming they were responding to the press release but didn't know what to say. I finally blurted out "Are you looking for the bone marrow meeting?". They stopped and acknowledged that, yes, they were here to do a news story. My thought? Wow, finally a good story for TV news! (as a side note, another station attempted to do a news story but got lost in the airport and missed it. Tony was trying to field phone calls from them in the middle of the chaos)

Even though by now pictures have been exchanged, we really didn't know who we were looking for. (Bill was making the journey by himself.) In the excitement of the television cameras set in place, the moment came when Bill approached and all of us, cameraman included, nearly missed it. It wasn't the perfect television moment, perhaps, but it was still an important blip of Tony's and Bill's history. After a brief exchange of hugs and hellos, the men are interviewed. It was pretty overwhelming, even from my perspective--and all I had to do was smile and keep the kids happy. The story was a wonderful depiction of what brought the men together but it didn't stop at the airport.

From the airport, we all traveled to the University hospital to interview the doctor and talk about what the bone marrow program. Unfortunately, the doctor who performed the procedure wasn't available so another one filled in. Then they took us behind the scenes to the lab and the operating room. We had the opportunity to witness it from the inside looking out. Really memorable! What the television cameraman was allowed to film was limited, but the filming continued.

Just as the film crew was wrapping up, Dr. Pincus heard we were in the building and joined us. What I remember most about the morning was this particular moment. I asked him point-blank "When you came out of surgery, you said 'his bone marrow looked phenomenal'. What exactly did that mean?" With a huge smile Dr. Pincus explained that with nearly 100 percent accuracy, he is able to tell whether or not a transplant will be successful based on how the marrow looks when it is drawn out. Tony's marrow could not have looked any healthier. It was obvious he was athletic, didn't smoke or drink and really took care of himself. Great looking marrow rarely is rejected by the recipient.  Even now, as I type that, I think that is just the most excellent response to my question and for the team to have such optimism and hope. It never really occurred to me that the team of men and women who work together to make these transplant surgeries run smoothly invest in them emotionally too. A whole team of people are affected by the outcome. And to think they see the best of successes and the heartbreak of failure. The successful transplants are that much sweeter!

The television story was aired several times over the weekend. As the three of us and Adam watched it together we relived it again. Bill was overcome with emotion as the gravity of what they had been through together was realized. Bill was healthy and strong. Without the transplant he was going to die within a year. The four years of hell he had gone through fighting for his life was over. He was a new man and he was grateful. He had been given a second chance at a new life and he was giving God the glory.




To find out how to become a donor, check out this link:

http://www.marrow.org/



Please don't let Tony's "worst case scenario" story discourage you from being a bone marrow donor. Yes, Tony's experience fell in the small fine print of possible negative side effects. There is someone out there who may need you. If you think Tony's story is amazing, Bill's story is incredible, too. He has three brothers and not one of them was a match. But Tony, a complete stranger from another state, matched him. And not only did he match him, but the doctor explained he was one of the closest matches possible. Closer than a sibling. There were several critical typing numbers they look to match. Tony matched nearly every one. Take the time to be someones hero. It might just change YOUR life!!

Bone Marrow Brother (Part 1)

It started with a phone call, or maybe a letter. I am not even sure exactly when this story started--summer perhaps, maybe late spring. Ultimately that really doesn't matter. The important part is that it did happen and therein lies a great, inspirational story.

After several years on the National Bone Marrow Registry, Tony received notification that he was a possible match for a person needing a blood stem cell transplant and  they were requesting permission to run initial tests with his blood sample on file. Interestingly, our reactions were starkly different. While I approached it with surprise and awe, Tony's reaction was surprisingly nonchalant. It was then that Tony reminded me that he had received at least one other similar request in past years. While tagged as being an initial match, it never panned out in the end.

Imagine Tony's surprise when fast-forwarding two weeks, he receives a follow-up phone call from the case manager Margaret saying that the initial tests were good and they would like him to come to a local university hospital and donate six more vials of blood to run some further tests. That fateful day came...Tony was a match for a 42 year old man with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL). Would he be willing to be a bone marrow donor? Wow, God, really? I thought...Now? Could we really add all that would be required to our schedule at this time in our lives.

To understand my selfish reaction, you must understand what was going on in our lives. Tony was in his final 3 semesters at the aforementioned University completing his bachelor's degree in Aircraft Maintenance Engineering. He was taking two classes at a time during the day while working a physically demanding full time job on the third shift. We had three sons at home, ages 3, 11 and 15.  Sleep and family time were at a minimum and the stress level in our home was palpable. But Isaiah 55:8-9 reads "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways" declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts"  In the end was there really anything to even consider? After all, Tony joined the registry with the commitment that, yes, if the opportunity presented itself to donate he would. Why go through the endless blood work that turned into months of tissue typing if not for the end result of donating?  Tony was this man's last hope.

To the best of our remembrances, it is now late summer and it is time to select a date when Tony will have the procedure. We were dismayed to learn that the dates to choose from were in early November, mid November and early December. Now that the commitment was made, did the recipient really need to wait that long? Wasn't this of a time-sensitive nature? Tony eagerly selected the first available date of November 6, 2003. Let the real work begin. Little did we know, or understand, that the real tests were to begin. While the recipient was receiving grueling chemotherapy and radiation to destroy all his white blood cells and remove all traces of his own marrow, Tony was going through tests of his own to make sure he was physically strong and healthy enough to proceed. Part of the prep for Tony included donating pints of his own blood for post surgery replacement transfusions, physicals and x-rays. Ignorance is bliss, "they"say, which was a blessed thing in our case. Little did we know what would be in store for Tony.

God knew what he was doing when he gave man and woman 9 months gestation  in preparing for a new baby. It takes every bit of that time to become educated and be both emotionally and physically prepared for the child's arrival. So is the case with bone marrow donation. Education was key. We took the time to learn about the donation process and what this meant for our anonymous recipient. Initially, confidentiality is high between donor and patient. The reason is simple. Should the donor back out last minute or have a reason to not fulfill the contract, or the patient die either before receiving the transplant or reject the marrow and die in the first year, there is less connection between the two. The less information they had on each other, the better from a legal standpoint. Better emotionally, too.

The procedure is considered somewhat routine. Nearly every Thursday the University Hospital has two marrow collection procedures scheduled. A small one-half inch incision is made along the back so that a large syringe can draw out marrow. In Tony's case 8 incisions, 4 on each left and right, were made on his hip under general anesthesia. Since he was donating for a fellow adult male, maximum marrow would be extracted. Tony endured 100 extractions from the sites. (Approximately 1,500 mls were withdrawn) This was no small undertaking for Tony.

We arrived at the hospital at 5 a.m. for the surgery to begin early morning. After the procedure was over, Dr. Pincus came into the waiting room and said "It went great. We took out maximum marrow so recovery is going to be rough. But his marrow looked phenomenal". Honestly, the rest of the day was a blurr. Considered an outpatient procedure, we expected for him to be released within 12 hours. However, Tony started becoming nauseous and when they helped him sit up, it revealed uncontrolled bleeding. Having witnessed it, I can honestly say it was a frightening moment for me. The doctor was paged and the decisions was made to hold him for another 4 hours, considering an overnight stay. Fortunately, I had recruited 4 different friends and family members to look after all the boys in our absence and I knew they would be cared for as long as I needed them. Tony was finally released into my care long into the evening and we made our long trek home. Frances who was there to oversea the marrow transfer let it slip that the marrow was being hand carried via a hospital helicopter by a woman named Bonnie to the Cleveland Clinic. She said having a woman named Bonnie hand carry it was a good omen and smiled. Tony's part was done...now it was up to the patient and Cleveland Clinic.

As stated earlier, Tony's recovery was really rough. Tony is a guy's guy. Nothing much gets him down. He is rarely sick and always goes full steam ahead. Unfortunately, this challenged everything he knew. Ideally, he was going to return to work on Monday--just taking the long weekend to recover. Instead, the four days turned into 2 weeks. Unpaid personal time, I might add. Something is seriously wrong with our health care system when this is not covered under medical leave. Honestly, it was probably weeks if not months before Tony felt 100 percent and even today says he experiences some pain now and again from the sites.  This certainly challenged Tony's pain threshold and knowing his own strengths and weaknesses during recovery. School couldn't wait so despite how he felt, he had to go forward with attending his classes. In fact, one professor I had contacted about why he was missing a second class was rather sarcastic and unsupportive.  It was only when I explained what he went through did the professor cut Tony any slack and offer up support.

The recipient in the meantime received the donation in a transfusion. Just hooked up to a machine and fed to him intravenously. Not to say that he had it easy up to this point but to receive the stem cells was truly no bigger a deal that receiving IV fluids.

Once home and back into a routine, Tony and I would talk about this elusive man. A man similar in age and family situation to Tony. Personally, I had prayed for him every day for months leading up to the procedure. I prayed that God would sustain him in body waiting for November to come. I prayed that he would be reassured that Tony would follow through. I prayed for his wife and boys. His life hung in the balance. He was out of hope. Tony was his hope.

After a week post operatively, I called our case manager Margaret. The news could not have been better. So far so good. His body was not rejecting the marrow and prognosis looked great. Check back in 30 days. So, I did....Margaret offered up the best news possible. Not only was he doing well, but he was being released from the hospital in record time. Healthy and well on his way to being in 'remission status'. Margaret encouraged me to call in 30 days for another follow up, so I did. But, the news was unchanged (yeah, God!) so she asked me to stop calling (go figure!) and she would call me if the situation changed.

Obviously, the emotional investment was high. I likened what Tony experienced to child birth. No, he didn't give life, but he gave it back. It would still be many months before legally we could have direct contact but now we were allowed to write a general letter without signatures or any details that would allude to where one another lived. We exchanged the letters via our case managers and waited....and waited...and waited. Finally, Margaret called to let us know that we could reveal ourselves. Did we want to know who he was? OK, seriously, do you even have to ask? Under the circumstance of a complete success, it was a natural progression. After all, Tony is forever a part of him. This man's DNA was forever changed and Tony was now a life force for him. Tony's blood was running through him. Yes, a thousand times yes, we wanted to know him. Fortunately, it was mutual.

(to be continued....)

*Sigh*

Today is Sunday and find myself in the midst of it being a *sigh* day. A frustrating place to be on what should be an uplifting day following worship service. Today we celebrated the end of the summer in "big service" with all the kids. We had spent the previous 12 weeks coming together--children and leaders alike--learning what it means to be a Christ follower, studying Paul's life in the New Testament book of Acts. Today was the celebration of what we had done as a group all summer long, praising God on stage together.

Personally, I was assigned to half of the 4th grade girls. They were incredibly knowledgeable and open and engaging. A great place to be plopped down in the middle of for the summer. The "other half" of girls was lead by Mary Ann, an incredibly grounded, well-rounded and sweet 80 year old woman of God. We often combined groups due to one reason or another-ranging from not having enough adult volunteers to small group size or, in my case, not feeling fully prepared after battling an on going illness all summer long. I learned a lot having to prepare each week. I certainly am not a Bible scholar and was learning along side the girls. Heidi and Jessica were the special-needs children in the group and being with them was pure joy. Their innocence and openness was refreshing and humbling. Whitney reminded me of my niece Jackie and she shared with such sweetness and honesty. One little girl shared that her sister had died a year earlier from a car crash; another one lost her grandpa after a lengthy illness with pancreatic cancer; some were dealing with bullies or the consequence of their parent's divorce. Humbling, very humbling. Yet they trusted me to listen to them, to care and to offer up an encouraging word. What they didn't know is how incredibly blessed by them I was. Yes, I told them in words that I loved them and how much I enjoyed them, but in their young minds I am not sure they understand how delighted I was to be a part of their lives.

Every Sunday I battle sadness. I have my entire life. I used to dread Sundays. So did my mom. As sure as the sun comes up, there is going to be a battle and strife in my house--with the kids or between me and Tony. Always. Perhaps I create what I fear? I am not sure. Perhaps God is trying to teach me something. OK, I'm listening...start talking. All I know is that my heart is heavy and my thoughts are not in line with who I am in Christ.  Matthew 11:28-30 says "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light". I claim this scripture today. I claim it for this Sunday and for all the Sundays to follow.

Bil Keane and The Family Circus

Since 1979, I've been corresponding with Bil Keane and his wife Thel and daughter Gayle "Dolly". Gayle handles the business end of her dad's career, and sold me limited edition pieces of the cartoon (mugs, plaques, figurines, plates, etc) I used to speak to her quite often. It all began with a fan letter and his wife sending me two discontinued, first edition books, autographed to me. For whatever reason, they would take the time to keep in touch. Eventually, as I reached adulthood, our relationship has included a twice a year letter and a rare phone call (the older he gets, the harder it is to talk on the phone). I was only 12 years old, but our relationship has truly grown over the years to where I consider them family and at the very least, the Keane's consider me their loyalest fan.

 In 1987, for my 21st birthday, he flew my mom and me to Arizona to spend a weekend with him and have a chance to meet one another in person. He drove out to our hotel and we went back to his home and studio in Paradise Valley, Arizona. I spoke to his son Jeff on the phone. Bil was amazed at my knowledge of his cartoon and wondered who knew more, me or his son Jeff, the other Family Circus enthusiast of the family. Now Jeff co-authors the cartoon and will officially take over when Bil retires. At the time, the Keane's were neighbors with Erma Bombeck, who was out of town for the weekend, so we couldn't meet. He was receiving an award at the Ice Capades while we were there so we had a special reception to go to and I was his guest, which was really cool. Just getting into the Arena was an adventure. I have stories that would fill a book of my time with them. Thel would take pictures of Bil signing autographs and of me by his side holding his award. He treated us to a wonderful cafe by his house.

In 2001, just after Adam turned one, the three of us flew out to see him for a second time. It was amazing to see him again, and for him to meet my family. After dinner, Thel and I went into the kitchen and we dished out ice cream for the men. That is one of my favorite memories. It felt so ordinary, yet extraordinary, at the time, to be in the midst of a couple I so greatly admire and adore.

After not hearing back from him in 2007, we received our annual Christmas card/Calendar in December 2008. He had signed it "Bil Keane", not "and Thel". Somehow, I missed her death this past May of complications from Alzheimer's. I immediately called Gayle and found out that about two weeks earlier he had a bad fall and dislocated his hip. Most recently I called his son Jeff and received another update that he is recovering very nicely at home with a full time nurse. With Mr. Keane in his mid 80's I know his time on earth is probably drawing near an end and I truly will miss a man who means so much to me.

Maybe

Maybe....

1. Maybe . . . we were supposed to meet the wrong people before meeting the right one so that, when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.

2. Maybe . . . when the door of happiness closes, another opens; but, often times, we look so long at the closed door that we don't even see the new one which has been opened for us.

3. Maybe . . it is true that we don't know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we don't know what we have been missing until it arrives.

4. Maybe . . . the happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

5. Maybe . . the brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; after all, you can't go on successfully in life until you let go of your past mistakes, failures and heartaches.

6. Maybe . .. you should dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go, be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you dream of, and
want to do.

7. Maybe . . there are moments in life when you miss someone -- a parent, a spouse, a friend, a child -- so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real, so that once they are around you appreciate them more.

8. Maybe . . the best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.

9. Maybe . . . you should always try to put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that something could hurt you, it probably will hurt the other person, too.

10. Maybe . . you should do something nice for someone every single day, even if it is simply to leave them alone.

11. Maybe . . giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they will love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart; but, if it doesn't, be content that it grew in yours.

12. Maybe . . happiness waits for all those who cry, all those who hurt, all those who have searched, and all those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of all the people who have touched their lives.

13. Maybe . . you shouldn't go for looks; they can deceive; don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile, because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.

14. Maybe . . .. you should hope for enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.

15. Maybe.... just maybe....

Nature versus Nurture

As I update my status implying that I enjoy when my little one is gone and it's more peaceful in my house, it occurs to me that I do not celebrate my daughter in the same way as I do my son.  While the two pregnancies were basically the same, from the moment I held each baby, I knew they were very different in personality. Let me take you back to April 2000....

Adam's arrival began just as we were going to sleep after celebrating our 2nd wedding anniversary. After 18 hours of typical labor, I delivered Adam with the mix of drugs and doctor's assistance. Having been pre-determined he had been swallowing meconium, they whisked him away under the bright lights and busy hands of various nurses. We waited (im)patiently for him to be brought to us so we could meet him while he cried non-stop in the nearby work area. The video that was being recorded during this time revealed something very telling about Adam's personality or "bent". He kept his little arms outstretched in the direction and sound of my voice as the doc and nurses and I discussed his name, how much he might weigh, etc....

Finally it was my turn to hold him, still crying inconsolably despite being clean and warm now. However, the moment they placed him in my arms and he heard my voice, he instantaneously quieted down and opened his eyes to watch me. In that moment I knew Adam and I would share a bond that would be natural and easy.

Fast forward to November a few years later. After only dilating to 2 by the 8th hour, I prepared for my second delivery to be as long or nearly as long as Adam's. As is such her personality of "I'll do it when I'm ready" in 30 minutes time, I fully dilated to 10. Yep, she was stubborn on my time, but cooperative on hers. I delivered Elise using that same mix of drugs and same great doctor. This time, though, she was placed in my arms immediately upon her arrival--all gooey and slimy (and beautiful) 6 pounds of her. She, too, was crying, aware of the bright lights and commotion around her. This time, though, the sound of my voice did not comfort her. She continued her little sheep's bleat until she was in the arms of her daddy. Yep, Daddy's girl from the moment they met.

From those moments their personalities have continued to reflect their births: Adam often preferring me and Elise choosing her daddy's loving arms over mine. God has designed each child so uniquely and individually, I am stunned sometimes that they are from the same two parents, being raised in the same home and under the same general parenting style. Nature versus Nurture? I think you know where I stand

What are the Odds?

Certain events have happened in recent days/weeks to trigger some remembrances; ones I think are memorable and worth documenting.

Last year Elise was in the recovery room at St. John's surgery center post-operatively from having her adenoid and tonsils removed. The post op nurse mentioned that in prepping for that day, she reviewed the charts and found Elise's chart particularly interesting. One of her best friends has a daughter also named "Elise Krueger", but she is 12 years old. In the spirit of the conversation I mention that 8 years earlier we were attending my then 12 year old step sons' football game and from the stands I hear chanting of my youngest son's name "Go, Adam! Go Adam! Come on Adam Krueger, let's go!" . Awestruck, she looked at me with the "deer in the headlight" gaze and repeated "Adam? Adam Krueger?" She continued "That would be Elise's older brother". Same Adam, too. What are the odds?

In early summer 2006,  I went to my parent's house to visit my mom, who had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer a few months earlier. My dad greeted me at the door with severe cuts and bruising along his right arm and hand. Glancing up, I notice the bruising and cuts along his face and down his back. "What happened to you?" I asked, which was received with a sheepish grin and shrug of the shoulders. After repeating myself, my dad grabbed the Post Dispatch and I see a photo of a private plane crash with a short story. My dad goes on to explain that he had called the Post to see if they would come to Jerseyville to the airport to do a story on the flying club. They did and in the process, witnessed and captured my dad's one and only plane crash. Good story opportunity seized and taken! Once again I ask, what are the odds?

In the late 80's/early 90's, I went to visit my friend Karen in Chicago. We had been roommates throughout college and we would make annual trips to visit each other. During one of the visits, Karen explains we need to go to a post-wedding photo party for her best friend Kim and husband Dave. While at the party, I start looking through a scrapbook of engagement and wedding announcements taking notice that the family was from Round Lake Beach, where my Uncle and cousins were living. Then I notice the last name Nelson, which was my cousin Shari's married name. Finally as I read as part of the wedding party "Dan Nelson", I realize that this person IS my cousin's husband and is the groom's brother. Literally just as I make this connection, I hear from behind me "Hey, Cous!". 6 degrees of separation at its finest. Seriously, what are the odds?

When Tony and I went out to dinner on our first date, we went to Robata's of Japan in West Port. It closed down sometime in 2004-05. The Coach House on Manchester Road was where my in-laws held our rehearsal dinner. It was demolished to make a new shopping plaza. We got engaged at the Seventh Inn. It burned down a few years ago. We're just waiting for something to happen to our reception hall or church. After all, we're on a roll. What are the odds?

My great grandmother's maiden name is Longbottom. They are buried in the same cemetery as the Shortsleeves. What are the odds?

During a conversation a girlfriend and I discovered we were attending the same concert at the Kiel. The night of the concert we discover our seats are next to each other. What are the odds?

In the early 2000's my mom was a huge, very successful, e-bay seller. She had the talent and knack at selling just about everything she listed. Let's just say she sold a little of this and that and a lot of CRAP! Whenever I visited, which was frequently on a weekly basis, I would peruse her items and occasionally, help her package them for shipping. When it came time for Tony to part with his motorcycle because he didn't have time to ride, he decided to list it on E-Bay. When it sold, the buyer flew out to St. Louis to ride it home. While transferring the title, the buyer casually mentioned he had made another e-bay purchase in Ballwin and wishes he could save on the shipping and drive it back with him on the motorcycle. He continued to add that because it was a collectible plate, it probably wasn't wise. Upon hearing that, something clicked and said "Would it happen to be a Pepsi plate purchased from Hilda?" Upon confirmation, I said "That would be my mom". I ask a final time, What are the odds?