Goodbye, Coach.

I remember watching Joe Paterno's 400th win with my kids back in November 2010.  As the final seconds ticked off the clock, I told them to really watch, to remember the moment.  I let them know that they were about to witness something special.  Something that they'd likely not see again in their lifetime.  These days, coaches come and go in college sports, always looking for the bigger payday.  The higher profile position.

But not Joe Paterno.  He came to Penn State as an assistant coach in 1950 and never left, despite numerous offers to coach in the NFL.  As his family said today "his ambitions were far reaching, but he never believed he had to leave this Happy Valley to achieve them."

For forty-six years, he led my beloved Nittany Lions onto the playing field.  It seems both ironic and tragic that his 409th victory, the one that secured his place as the winningest head coach in Division I history, came just a week before the scandal that rocked Penn State, that brought the most improbable, unimaginable end to a legendary career.

Joe Paterno became a legend here because he did things the right way.  He was a teacher before he was a coach.  He made sure that the boys that came to play for him went to class, earned their degrees, became men.  I think it was clear though the hundreds of tributes from former players today that they felt they were better husbands, fathers, and leaders because of him and I have no doubt that it is true.

As the scandal unfolded and has continued to endure, I've often thought back to my friend Jessica's blog, When You Know It's Poop, published back in mid-November.

"This, too, is a tragedy, not only for a man who has lived humbly, ethically, and gracefully for most of his many days, but for the rest of us as well...  if he can’t offer the world his good deeds and intentions without marring them with shame, who among us can?

There is no doubt that Joe Paterno is a great man.  He is not Jesus. He is not infallible. But he’s better than most of us—and he’s been that way for a long, long time."

When I read through Paterno's Washington Post interview it was with a heavy heart.  I imagine it must have been a terrible burden for him to live his final days being judged so harshly by so many.  To have a lifetime of achievement and philanthropy disregarded by so many as if it were Paterno himself accused of child molestation. 

Many seem to take Paterno's statement that "With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more." as some admission of culpability.  I don't.  Who among us wouldn't wonder if we could have done more to make a difference?  I think it simply makes him human.

I hope with time, people can see that Joe Paterno did or did not do what many of us would have done or not done in similar circumstances.  That they'd stop holding him to a higher standard than they'd hold themselves to.  I hope that with time, this scandal doesn't define him as deeply as it did in his final days.  That his lifetime of good deeds and accomplishments carries the weight it deserves.

Joe Paterno leaves a legacy... to his wife, Sue, he was her soul mate, and together they had five children and 17 grandchildren to whom he was "a shining example of how to live a good, decent and honest life".  As I read this in the Paterno family's statement today, I thought that's really all we can hope for in life and for that alone, he was a lucky man.

But, his legacy is also everywhere I looked today.  When Coach Paterno came to State College in 1950, Penn State was an agricultural school in the middle of nowhere.  And while we are still in the middle of nowhere, he put this town and this college on the map.  There were less than 10,000 students here in 1950.  Today, there are nearly five times that number at the University Park campus and nearly ten times that number throughout the Commonwealth.  We are an internationally known and respected research university.

Beaver Stadium expanded six times during his tenure here, more than doubling in size and currently seating over 106,000.  Because of its success, the football program supports many of Penn State's other athletic programs.

Inside the sports museum, there are two national championship trophies.

There is a wing of the library named after Joe Paterno, he and his wife donated to the spiritual center and the soon-to-be completed Suzanne Pohland Paterno Catholic Student Faith Center.  He's donated a significant amount of money to the Mount Nittany Medical Center, which is currently undergoing an ambitious expansion.  They've also supported countless other local charities.

My community is a much better place because Joe Paterno lived here.  This is a part of his legacy.

There's a statue of Joe Paterno that sits in the shadows of Beaver Stadium.  I've run past it many times.  But it wasn't until today that I really stopped to consider the words that are printed there... a quote from Joe Paterno from more than a decade ago.

"They ask me what I'd like written about me when I'm gone. I hope they write I made Penn State a better place, not just that I was a good football coach."

My wish for you tonight, Coach Paterno, is that you are resting now in peace in the arms of a loving and forgiving God, and that you know, without question, that this school that you loved and dedicated your life to is a better place because of you.

Goodbye, Coach.  And thanks for everything.

Happy Birthday, Matt!

Sometimes I sit down to write knowing exactly what it is that I want to say but having no idea how to actually get the words onto the page in a reasonably articulate way.  I type, delete, type, delete, over and over again until the words finally start to come.

This is one of those posts.  

Tomorrow is Matt's 7th birthday.  Seven. (Wow!  How did that happen?)  His arrival in my life sometimes seems like it was just yesterday and sometimes seems like it was a lifetime ago.

At this time of year, I cannot help but to reflect back on the two years I wanted a child but could not have one.  To think about the toll that infertility took on my life and my marriage.  To think about how I both joyfully and somewhat sorrowfully watched family and friends so easily do something that I could not do.  And I cannot help but remember the spring morning back in 2004, just weeks before I was scheduled for my first IVF cycle, when I knew that my life was going to change, but did not yet understand just how much.

January 11, 2005

Seven years ago I gave birth to a son: Richard Matthew Cropp, born at 11:29 am, weighing 7 lbs. 3oz. 

Within hours of his arrival, I began to learn about the strength and determination of a mother.  There were complications with our delivery and Matt was left under an oxygen tent, with an IV of sugar water keeping his blood sugars stable. Wanting to see and hold and nurse my baby, I was out of bed eight hours after his delivery - IV pole and catheter bag and nurse who wanted me to stay put be damned.  By the time the doctors made rounds the following morning, I'd been down to the nursery three times to see him.

The seven years since then haven't always been easy.  When friends choose not to have children, I totally understand.  While I love both my children, there are times I wistfully imagine what life might look like if that whole infertility thing really stuck.  If it weren't just a bump in the road or a test to see just how badly I really wanted this whole motherhood thing.  I think about all the amazing places I may have traveled to or the really awesome car I might have parked out in the garage or the really fancy shoes that might be sitting in my closet.

Instead, I've spent my money on diapers and overpriced daycare, swimming lessons and soccer seasons, amusement parks and fancy dinners at McDonalds.  I've made sacrifices (both big and small) over the years, some of which I am sure the kids can see and some they may never really know about or understand.

I've learned that I have a much larger capacity to love unconditionally than I ever would have though possible before I became a mother.

Matt's at an age now where he is great fun to be with.  He's kind and funny and smart and inquisitive.  He's adventurous and outgoing.  He cheers for all the right sports teams (and the Pittsburgh Steelers) and is becoming a good athlete himself.

December 31, 2011

A few nights ago, as we were laying in bed talking (my favorite part of our bedtime routine), Matt asked about the local food bank and let me know that he'd like to use part of the WalMart gift card he received for selling Boy Scout popcorn this fall to buy food for the food bank.  My heart melted that he'd think selflessly about others even at a young age and I hoped this meant that we were doing something right. 

I am lucky to know him and even luckier that he is mine.  Without question, my life is better because of him.

Happy birthday, Matt!
    

A Motherhood Fail. Big Time.

I committed one of the cardinal sins of parenthood...

I held Cathy to a lower standard than I do Matt.  I simply dismissed her inability to color inside the lines, to neatly print her letters and numbers on a line or inside a box as a side effect of her history.  Of the mild, yet pervasive developmental delays of her childhood.

Not once did it occur to me that it could be something, anything else.  And for that I am ashamed.

I received a call from the school nurse in mid-December letting me know that Cathy had failed both her routine vision and hearing exams.  As is the case with many kindergarten kids, it wasn't clear how much of the result was a lack of understanding for what was expected of her versus an actual problem with her vision or hearing.  We were asked to follow-up with an appropriate provider and I quickly scheduled exams with both an optometrist and an ENT specialist (the doctor we saw for recurrent ear infections and ear tubes when Cathy was a toddler).

Earlier this week, I sat in the optometrist's office and learned that my little girl is farsighted.

Rich and I are both nearsighted and so I just always assumed that when my kids started having vision problems (and I am told there's a 70% likelihood that each kid will have problems simply because both their parents have problems), it would be seeing the chalkboard in the front of the room rather than the sheet of paper right under their noses.

We ordered a pair of glasses for Cathy before we left the office... and now we wait.  We wait for the glasses to come in.  And we wait to see what kind of a difference it will make in her coloring, her cutting, her writing skills.  Maybe it won't make all the difference, but in hindsight, I'd bet that her inability to see the things closest to her has hindered her.  How could it not???

She still has her share of challenges... we've recently opened an IEP with the school district which will cover minimal speech and language and occupational therapy support over the calendar year BUT we were told time and time again in our IEP meeting that there are many areas where Cathy is at an age-appropriate level.

And while I am sure there are hundreds of ways that I can, and likely will, fail my kids over the years, I am vowing right now that I will not expect less of her than I do of her brother again.

Cathy Rides the Bus

In Miracles, I talked about all the challenges that Cathy faced early in life.  Without question, this was my favorite post of the year and it's one that I have gone back and read a number of times.  When you've considered a life raising a child with a disability, even if that life never really comes to be, it is so much sweeter to celebrate their milestones.

Cathy's first full day of school

There was no bigger milestone for Cathy in 2011 than the start of school.  In our district, the first day of school for kindergarten kids is an hour... parents take their children to school and meet with the teachers while the kids listen to stories and play with toys.  So while this was certainly a big day, the day after is what I will remember as my best memory of the year... August 31, 2011.  The first school bus ride.

Cathy stepping onto the bus!

Cathy was so excited to start school and to ride the bus with her brother.  She slid her backpack on 10 minutes before it was time to head outside and she bounced with excitement on the walk to the bus stop. 

Cathy had no reservations leaving us to ride the bus which certainly made things a little easier on me.  Once she was up the steps and the bus started to pull away, I cried.  Happy, happy tears.  On a happy, happy day!