It Has Nothing To Do With You
I’ve started this essay more times than any other. Wayne’s donor portrait should have been posted weeks ago. My problem hasn’t been what to write, it’s been what not to write. The difficulty lay in separating the man from the love I feel for him. And while it doesn’t seem like I would need to separate the two given that my portraits have morphed into musings and tangents; this essay could easily contain the growth, depth and history of our relationship before I realize I’ve eclipsed the original purpose of these portraits which is to thank the donor.
It doesn’t help that sometime last week he said I write well. THE PRESSURE!! Regardless of that, when I try to write about him, it’s as if I’m struck mute. I start daydreaming immediately about moments we’ve shared - laughter, joy, dinner, monikers, sex, golf, airports, smiles, arguments, texts, everything and nothing. And when I come to, I’m smiling, glowing, charmed by the thought of him.
And when I start to write, I want to tell our story. How we met 20-odd years ago. How we parted, c&#k-blocked by a mutual friend. How we met again at a wedding where I, somehow, came away with the idea that he was a pastor (absolutely ludicrous in hindsight). How we met once more two years ago and fell hard. How he makes me laugh… But none of this has anything to do with his donating to my triathlon.
Wayne has received professional awards for his contributions to the betterment of women, people of color and the underprivileged. He has personally contributed to a variety of campaigns, fundraisers and local charities. Still, I don’t need to list any of that (google him!) because the people who know and love him are well aware. He was a supportive man before me and he will be long after.
How well-loved Wayne is is a testament to who he is as a person. So what could be my tribute? Thanks seems so small. Because I can’t seem to reduce my thanks to just his donation. My thanks would encompass all the support he has provided through my breakdowns and tears and panic attacks. It would include financial, familial, emotional support. It would include flying almost every month to see me. And it must include loving me as fluidly as I love him. Truly, madly, deeply.
I don’t think I could ever write a donor portrait about Wayne. There is too much to say. There is too little on my tongue and in my fingers to describe accurately what it is to have him in my life. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with thank you.
Donor Portrait: Jennifer Dollinger-Woods
I was going to write about Jennifer from a knew-her-in-high-school point of view. You know, stuff like what classes we shared, clubs or intramural activities. Inevitably it would have included not having seen her in years and a line about her generosity.
And all of that is true - she is charitable, she was kind in high school, she’s a great mom and too many years have passed since I’ve seen her face. But I have to be selfish with this post and talk about something else. Here’s why: My fundraising is over. Raising $2600 seemed to be, at the time, the most challenging part of this whole gambit. But I’ve got this other thing hanging over my head now: the TRIATHLON. Up until last Saturday, I didn’t realize just how crazy that was.
So, while Jennifer’s donation was great (and ultimately more important than little ol’ me); on May 19, the best thing she donated was this:
Christal, Most people, me included, only talk of someday training for a (triathalon, marathon, fill in the blank). You actually DO IT. (How very Nike of you). I sat on the sidelines at the IronMan in Lake Placid eating Doritos. (How very Frito Lay of me) Your blogs are entertaining, your fundraising skills are impressive, and your determination is inspirational. Keep up the great work! Who knows? Maybe I’ll start out small with a 5K. (crunch, crunch).
She wrote that note along with her donation. And I printed that note out and stuffed it in my TRI-bag for Saturday’s practice triathlon. (A tri-bag is a glorified backpack that is big enough to hold all the crap you need for a triathlon - sneaks, towels, wetsuit, helmet, etc. It’s like a duffle bag on your back.)
May 19 was the day I swam 800 yards, biked 25 miles and ran 6 for the first time in my life. And it was HARD! I like to brag that my motto is “I don’t quit.” Yeah, that wasn’t what I thinking when I was having an asthma attack just trying to get past the breakers of the Santa Monica sea. I was crying and hyperventilating and thinking I would never get through the first 400 yard loop.
Your determination is inspirational.
But I did it. And I had to get out of the water run down the beach and do it again. Some people didn’t and the coach said I didn’t have to (of course he said that after I plunged back into the ocean).
Most people, me included, only talk of someday training for a (triathalon, marathon, fill in the blank). You actually DO IT.
So, I did it again. Then I got on my bike and I thought everything was fine … until everything wasn’t. There was this little thing called a 10k run in between me and collapse. I walked the first 20 minutes. The only thing between me and QUIT was “Just do it.” Or as Jennifer put it:
How very Nike of you.
I started running and I didn’t stop till it was done (Total: 3 hours, 56 minutes). Thanks for the pep talk Jennifer.
(Source: seebytouch)
I’m sorry, everyone born 10/23. The internet has decided your fate…
KYMdb - Rage Comics
Escargot on the menu (ba-dum dum) (Taken with Instagram at Bellingham Ave)
I met Baadja-Lyne more years ago than I remember. We both have a passion for volunteer work and at the time it was the Black Women’s Wellness Project. We mentored single pregnant teenagers. In turn, Baadja also involved me in the Black Women’s Health Study, a project that serves to better understand the causes of life-threatening illnesses (hypertension, lupus, diabetes, etc.) that affect black women. She’s been supporting my charitable endeavors ever since!
Anyway, Baadja-Lyne is a Los Angeles hybrid. She runs a successful tax preparation service, IRI Tax Preparation and Notary Public, to fund her acting endeavors. So, what are you doing May 20th? Because there’s a play-reading that she’s in! Here are the deets:
The Visit
Stage 52 Theatre
May 20, 2012, 5 pm
5299 W. Washington Blvd.
For more information: 310-671-6400
(Source: pages.teamintraining.org)
A reunion after 25 years (with college BF, Nicole) (Taken with Instagram at Little Miami)
I thought I was safe because I wasn’t doing an ocean swim for the triathlon (I’m swimming Bass Lake), then I read this:
There is a reason that “flesh-eating bacteria” is currently #5 on Google Trends right now (sandwiched between “josh hamilton” and “gcb,” for which I cannot say the same), but it might scare you enough to never, ever go near a lake again, ever. Within a week of cutting her calf in a zip-lining…
Crystal walks in faith. Faith in her power, faith in her God, faith in her moral compass (not in that particular order). You can see it in her carriage and the brightness of her eyes. She carries with her an eternal light.
I can say all this with certainty, though we’ve really only known each other through our children, because she did something that most would not. She donated to my Leukemia & Lymphoma Society fundraising campaign with a portion of her unemployment check (by the way, here’s a shameless plug for her website: www.GreatTravel4U.com).
I protested her donation, but her response to me was that she doesn’t stop giving just because it feels like she’s stopped receiving. I imagine that if she did that then it would be as if she believed the point of giving was receiving. Or perhaps then it would be as if God ultimately does not provide after all. And I know Crystal believes fervently that He does.
What an honor & a lesson in the same moment - I was proudly humbled.
(Source: pages.teamintraining.org)
Lil’ Jengsta’ (Taken with instagram)
