Jonah

“Jonah’s Years at PGT” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s autumn fundraiser for 2013. Throughout November and December 2013, we’ll be remembering, mainly through the writing of his friends, some of the great fun and growing Jonah experienced at PGT. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us provide other kids with similarly loving direction along the road to wholeness during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, January 5, 2014. Okay, or any other time. Thank you. You’re the best!

Sarah Spangenberg remembers …

Sarah Spangenberg

Sarah Spangenberg has been a Philadelphia-based actress since graduating from The University of The Arts with a BFA in Musical Theatre. She has worked at The Arden Theatre Company, REV Theatre, Big Apple productions, and The Eagle Theatre. This December, she will finally be going on birthright and can’t wait to experience Israel! 

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Jonah was by far the most free spirit that I ever met at PGT. He was just Jonah…take it or leave it. Together we performed in A Man of No Importance, Prince and the Pauper (Jonah worked backstage), The Secret Garden, Once on this Island, Grand Hotel and, of course, our graduating production, Hair.

PGT is a unique community where I had the privilege of watching all of my friends blossom into wonderful “almost adults.” I watched Jonah grow in each production and learned so much from his spark and energy. He brought an extremely contagious energy to every rehearsal process! I remember taking it in, and he always put me at ease. He definitely grew more into himself our senior year and while I was suffering through crippling anxiety, Jonah helped me in any way he could.

That year, we also worked together as counselors at PGT during the summer of 2008. I distinctly remember a large group of 4-5 year olds running around outside of Bet Am Shalom (a local synagogue on whose grounds the summer program was held) screaming and carrying on. I was so overwhelmed that I was about to pull my hair out. Jonah just sat back and laughed at me and then chased all the children around the garden.

Sarah and Jonah in “Hair” June 2008

That was just the thing about Jonah … he was always so calm and collected and never let anything phase him … no matter if we were learning how to waltz, speak in Irish dialects, or trying to make the “Little Theatre” children stop crying.

I will always miss him, but he forever holds a chapter in my memories of The Play Group Theatre. We all are a family. We all are one. And I will always “look at the moon” and think of him.

Sarah

P.S. Please give generously to our Autumn 2013 campaign at jonahmac.org. As always, we are ever grateful for your friendship and support.

“Jonah’s Years at PGT” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s autumn fundraiser for 2013. Throughout November and December 2013, we’ll be remembering, mainly through the writing of his friends, some of the great fun and growing Jonah experienced at PGT. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us provide other kids with similarly loving direction along the road to wholeness during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, January 5, 2014. Okay, or any other time. Thank you. You’re the best!

Rachel Berger remembers …

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Jonah and I were unlikely friends in many ways. The 14-year-old Rachel was type-A to an extreme. I was eager to please the staff. I started learning my lines before I got the script. I was a perfectionist. I cared way too much about how I dressed. I had never broken a rule in my life. The 14-year-old Jonah was very different. Type-B to an extreme, Jonah wore the same over-sized grey shirt every day. He took his time learning his lines. Backstage in shows, he would eat the props (my props!). I recall one time where our director Jeff threw a pen at Jonah because he was so frustrated with him.

But what I learned from being in six shows with Jonah is that you need a little A and a little B. Too much of one doesn’t work. Maybe that’s why we were brought together so many times. Good theater is both polished and messy. I like to think we taught each other a little of our own madness.

Jonah taught me what it means to think with your heart and not your head. Overly analytical, I struggled with this idea. But in my first show with Jonah, A Man of No Importance, Jonah played five very different parts so beautifully. He managed to play a conservative priest and a thug in the same show so convincingly. I asked myself how was he doing it?! I think it was his open spirit. He didn’t judge either character. He understood them without judging them. That idea really changed theater for me (and, you know, life too).

Jonah and Rachel
Man of No Importance
Dec 2005

And now that I teach at PGT, I take Jonah with me. From him, I know that playfulness is equally important as hard work. I know that no matter how much you rehearse, you have to leave some room for the improv gods. I teach that understanding doesn’t always start with your brain.

Rachel

P.S. Please give generously to our Autumn 2013 campaign at jonahmac.org. As always, we are ever grateful for your friendship and support.

“Jonah’s Years at PGT” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s autumn fundraiser for 2013. Throughout November and December 2013, we’ll be remembering, mainly through the writing of his friends, some of the great fun and growing Jonah experienced at PGT. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us provide other kids with similarly loving direction along the road to wholeness during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, January 5, 2014. Okay, or any other time. Thank you. You’re the best!

Jake Perlman remembers …

“Jonah’s Years at PGT” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s autumn fundraiser for 2013. Throughout November and December 2013, we’ll be remembering, mainly through the writing of his friends, some of the great fun and growing Jonah experienced at PGT. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us provide other kids with similarly loving direction along the road to wholeness during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, January 5, 2014. Okay, or any other time. Thank you. You’re the best!

Maddie Hendricks remembers …

Maddie Hendricks

After graduating from The George Washington University in May, Maddie Hendricks moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career in TV,Film and Theatre writing and acting. She is now working as a Writers’ Production Assistant on the new CW show, “Reign,” and absolutely loves it!

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“Okay guys, we need an outstanding team member with a positive attitude, a good voice, and a willingness to jump into anything on short notice…”

It was two weeks before tech week when [director] Jill [Abusch] announced that we were in desperate need of someone to play Daniel’s father in our production of Once On This Island. She paced the room as she spoke, trying to think of who on earth would be willing to play this role on such short notice – and who could look mildly like [cast member] Dan Carlyon’s father. Then, suddenly, a smile spread across her face.

“I’ve got it.”

And with that, she ran out of the Yellow Room: a room we practically lived in back at the [old rehearsal space in the] White Plains Mall, a room of luxury and elegance and…oh wait, I did not grow up in NoBro [PGT’s new digs]. No jealousy here! Anyway! A few moments later, she returned, her face beaming.

“Duh. Jonah!”

The following experience best describes Jonah’s character (pun intended) at the time I knew him: a positive spirit with a passion for acting. In fact, the only thing he loved more than acting was helping out the people he cared for.

Joining a cast two weeks before curtain is no small feat, but Jonah did it beautifully. He had this confidence that allowed him to jump into a cast of 30 plus kids – a situation that would terrify most high school students – and not only become a part of the team, but trick everyone into thinking he’d been there all along. Oh, and did I mention he also became the Assistant Stage Manager? Because, you know, saving our show onstage wasn’t quite enough; he needed to keep everything organized backstage too. That was Jonah. That’s just the kind of guy he was.

What astounded me most about Jonah’s involvement, however, was his ability to quietly steal the show. That’s right. Come on, Jonah! Here we all were, working our butts off for months, and Jonah swoops in and creates this character with a backstory, accent, and a consistently funny punch line. While the rest of us struggled through tech week, Jonah got laughs on his very few lines every night, one of which I will never forget…

In his main scene, Jonah was supposed to warn his son not to fall in love with a peasant girl, “Ti Moune” – someone his son could never actually marry. The line in the song was, “You are not the first to want a peasant, I too know their appeal.” Most people would sing this and never think twice about the humor behind it. But Jonah, being Jonah, took his time, humorously tormenting his son with his firm advice.

Jonah and Dan “Once On This Island” May 2007

When his section started up, he gripped Dan’s shoulder with one arm, while sticking his other arm out in front of them, painting a picture in a gangster-meets-architect kind of way. When he said, “I too know their appeal,” he slapped Dan’s chest, vulgarly confiding in his innocent son. Then, a moment later, he screamed, “But you are my son, you’ll do what must be done, no matter what you feel!” And then promptly stormed off the stage.

In just a few lines, Jonah managed to play the buddy, the creep, and the terrifying father – and bring the house down every time. By making his character real, Jonah added a whole new dimension to his son’s life, forcing the audience to sympathize with Daniel and perhaps understand why he later leaves Ti Moune in the dust. So when I say Jonah “stole the show,” I’m lying. He actually played a vital role (pun intended again) in telling the story.

It takes both courage and grace to join a musical on short notice. But it takes the Jonah-magic to not only bring a character onstage, but also bring him to life. When I think of Jonah, four years after his death, I think of these moments – and there are many, many more. These memories allow me to celebrate his life, rather than mourn it, though I think we all still do. But I have to remind myself that Jonah was a celebrator, and so, the best way to mourn his death has to be to celebrate his life.

Maddie

P.S. Please give generously to our Autumn 2013 campaign at jonahmac.org. As always, we are ever grateful for your friendship and support.

“Jonah’s Years at PGT” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s autumn fundraiser for 2013. Throughout November and December 2013, we’ll be remembering, mainly through the writing of his friends, some of the great fun and growing Jonah experienced at PGT. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us provide other kids with similarly loving direction along the road to wholeness during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, January 5, 2014. Okay, or any other time. Thank you. You’re the best!

In the second half of 8th grade, Jonah discovered a magical island of creativity and love called Play Group Theatre which harbored his blustery, generous soul throughout high school and provided the incubator in which he could grow his massive spirit. Located in White Plains, NY, Play Group Theatre (PGT) opens its doors to young people in search of a safe place to explore the parameters of their self-definition. Closely watched over by Jill and Steven Abusch, the kids of PGT aren’t afraid of anything. Well, perhaps they are, but through classes and rehearsals they learn bravery and courage and not to shrink from a challenge. These are key skills that will serve them well all their lives, whether or not they’re destined for a life in front of the footlights.

Jonah in “Lucky Stiff”
May 2004 (age 14)

When Jonah was 14 years old, he was struggling mightily with trying to figure out who he was and what he could do. His first show, Lucky Stiff, aptly captured his beginnings at PGT. STIFF-ly indeed, he presented his first solo musical lines to the PGT audience. But he already understood how LUCKY he was to have discovered what had already become one of his favorite places on earth.

As Jonah’s dad, I looked on in absolute awe at the astounding work that was being done at PGT. Sure, I liked the shows. But I could see that PGT wasn’t about the shows. This theatre company’s emphasis was on the company … the kids. Steven and Jill and their staff feel obliged to care for the developing individuals who have been entrusted to them. And over the eight years that Jonah and Aiden grew up there, Ellen and I felt blessed to witness the gifts with which these young people were being showered: a safe place to explore personhood, a loving sanctuary in which to open up and peek out from behind the walls we all build for hiding our teenaged selves.

In short, PGT may be one of the greatest places on earth. For both my boys, that was most certainly true.

Billy

P.S. With this entry, we kick off our Autumn 2013 campaign. Please give generously at jonahmac.org. As always, we are ever grateful for your friendship and support.

Hurricane Katrina relief work in Mississippi
February 2007

In February 2007, Jonah and I took a very special road trip together. It started in Philadelphia, where the two of us attended the biannual Convention of NFTY, the North American Federation of Temple Youth. I was on the faculty; he very much wasn’t. The Convention was fun for both of us, and even noteworthy due to my having observed Jonah at previous NFTY conventions where he struggled to find a level of comfortability among a gathering of 500 teens. By 2007 and 11th grade, however, he was “in the zone” and at the top of his social game. Jonah loved NFTY, he was friends with just about everybody, and the Convention was clearly the proverbial icing on his Jewish cake.

So when I told him we’d need to leave the Convention a day early, I’d expected more teen resistance. After all, kids wait two years for this gathering of friends from across North America and even the world. Nevertheless, Jonah didn’t bat an eye or hesitate even a moment before saying okay. While his friends would be spending another twenty-four hours together before heading home, he and I were flying down south to Ocean Springs, Mississippi, one of hundreds of towns that had buckled beneath a brutal beating from Hurricane Katrina a year and a half earlier (August 2005). The U.S. government had promised to help but their assistance was meager and disillusioning. Ordinary folks stepped in to lend a hand. Ocean Springs is only a few miles down the road from Biloxi where, soon after our arrival, we drove by a 500-year-old tree that had taken flight during the hurricane and landed in the middle of a three-story building. The destruction and despair we encountered there rattled us deeply. Houses that looked as if they’d been stepped on, and foundations that no longer even had houses, lined both sides of too many roads.

Swamp Team
February 2007

Jonah eagerly joined the work crews, and he worked hard, lending a hand to anyone who asked, pulling nails out of water-ravaged boards so they could be used again for rebuilding, pulling down ruined parts of houses to make way for new construction, scraping and sanding salvageable walls, and much, much more. The messiest work by far was when they assigned us to a swamp, explaining that a number of houses had simply slid down the hills around it and we were to pull out as much as we could from this rather disgusting bog. Why not bring in bulldozers and the like? Because this was a fragile wetland and large equipment would destroy it. So timber by timber, shingle by shingle, even submerged family memory by family memory, we lifted out as much as we could. It would take years so we only retrieved a tiny bit of it, but I understand the teams eventually got it all. Jonah posed proudly for a photo in our pre-muck coveralls. And then he stepped in to do the work, just as proudly.

Besides the relief activities, Jonah and I shared some other great memories on this road trip. Bedding down in sleeping bags inside a house that had no lights and no heat. Breakfast with our work buddies at the Waffle House. Driving into Biloxi for Mardi Gras. Buying ridiculous and offensive hats there. And coming home with bags full of the beads thrown at us by occupants of the passing floats.

Some things Jonah did without me. He helped build an enormous bonfire in the backyard of the place we were staying. And I do mean enormous. It burned about “two Jonahs high.” He also made a lot of music with his new friends and his backpacker guitar. He eagerly interviewed on camera for a participant who was filming a documentary of our trip.

The Swagger
February 2007

And, of course, he swaggered. I’m not really sure where this came from. I suspect it evolved at a time when he was trying to act bigger than he felt. But by the time he was bigger, both physically and charismatically, the swagger had simply become a part of him. And it made him a study in contradictions. That swagger evoked a cool superiority that one might actually buy into if you’d never met the boy. Because superiority was definitely not Jonah’s thing, I can only conclude that he swagged to entertain. What he did, he did for joy and for others. And that swagger, and the personality behind it, was part of what I continue to love most about him.

Sometime during the trip, Jonah turned to a temple participant and fellow bonfire-builder Jay Werner and told him they should make a t-shirt for a future Katina Relief trip that would say, “We’re on a mission from God” (referencing Elwood Blues in the 1980 film, The Blues Brothers). In 2012, that t-shirt got made. So it would seem Jonah got back down to the Gulf.

I love how Jonah continues to have an impact on people. In small ways, but ways that matter. One of the other kids who joined that trip to Mississippi in 2007 wrote, “Jonah, I only met you once. We went to Mississippi to help out Hurricane Katrina victims. We built homes and cleaned swamps. You were a great guy. You were strong and caring. We shared some laughs, and a few good stories. After one week, you left an impression in my mind that stuck pretty well. You had a lot of heart.”

That big heart of his continued to grow. During his freshman year at UB, Jonah told us that he was hoping to spend Spring Break ‘09 in New Orleans, continuing in college the Katrina relief work he’d done in high school. He never got the chance. But during his too-brief nineteen years, he made a profound impression on a lot of people. And I think that impression (like the Blues Brothers t-shirt) is helping to inspire others to do some good in the world – to treat others with goodness, and to lend a hand where we can.

Perhaps that’s the most important road trip of them all. Attaboy, Jo!

Billy

P.S. “Road Trip” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2013. Remembering some of the fun Jonah had on these vacations, we’d like to help other kids to enjoy and to grow during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, July 31. Okay, or any other time. Thank you.

This story made a brief appearance in “Doctored Memories” (May 12, 2010) but it lends itself easily to our “Road Trip” series. So I expanded the story for your enjoyment. Billy

For many, many years, our family made an annual summer move to the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, New York. At different points in time, we would either serve on faculty (Ellen and me, of course), as fac brats (Katie, Jonah and Aiden, of course) or as actual program participants (that would be Jonah). Oh, and for one summer, toilet cleaner and pot scrubber (Jonah again). In the early years (1991-95) we made quite the road trip from Cleveland, Ohio, in order to find our way to Warwick. This 8-hour drive took us 11 hours because, having three young children, we had to allow for outrageously frequent bathroom stops. There’s nothing much more urgent than a child crying from the backseat, “I really need to go!”

Jonah @ Kutz
Summer 1996

In the summer of 1996, we took an entirely different kind of road trip. Geographically, not much ground was covered – only maybe five miles (about an 8-minute ride) from Kutz to the Warwick Hospital. But the urgency tapped into a set of emotions that parents do their very best to not have to call upon.

While at camp our address was on Faculty Row, a handful of bungalow-type cabins which contained just enough tiny rooms to sleep, eat a light meal and (if you’re a kid) engage in some quiet play. Jonah and Katie had been sharing a room with a bunk bed – Katie on the bottom and Jonah up on top. Baby Aiden, all of two years old, camped out on the roof. No, he had himself a crib that was shoved into an even tinier room of his own.

On one particular evening, sometime after midnight, Ellen and I awoke with a start as we heard a thump and a very groggy whimpering. It seems that my sleeping Jonah had managed to roll himself off his bed (the top bunk, remember) and, on his way down (while taking in the sights, perhaps) struck the edge of a small night table that no one would ever for even a minute have thought could be a danger to a child.

An inch or two of Jonah’s forehead was cut open down to the bone. Blood was pouring out, drenching the blue Superman t-shirt in which he had gone to sleep earlier that evening. The irony of his choice for sleeping garb was not lost on us. Lots of kids wonder if they can fly. Ours decided to try it while he was asleep.

The Faculty Row cabins housed two families. Lucky for us, Laura, the camp nurse, was our immediate neighbor. We banged on the wall and shouted for her to come over. Her first task was to convince us that Jonah wasn’t bleeding to death. That wasn’t immediately apparent judging by the aforementioned Superman shirt. But keeping her cool, she patched Jonah up and we loaded him into the car, driving into Warwick to the local emergency room. When we got there, the medical staff had us restrain Jonah’s young arms behind him and inside of a pillow case, then they wrapped his entire body in a large sheet, so that we could hold still his squirming 6-year-old frame for novocaine injections and stitches. We attempted to comfort Jonah as this was going on by reminding him that he was the grandson of two doctors, but it wasn’t much help in convincing him that the hospital staff could be trusted. I have to admit that when I saw them going for his head with a large sewing needle, even though I’d watched them administer the anaesthetic (and even though I was the direct descendant of a doctor), I wasn’t so sure myself that this wasn’t torture.

But eventually they did stitch him up and got most of the blood washed off. We took him back to Kutz Camp where he fell quickly into a very exhausted, peaceful sleep. The road trip (or should we call it “head trip”) was over.

See Jonah’s scar?
Kutz, Summer 1996

But not really. Six years later, Jonah would write for a school project, “Since I was the kind of kid who liked reading Batman, I thought that stitches would’ve made me look like a thug. So I put up a real fight at the hospital. In the end I ended up getting the stitches and going home like nothing happened.” Fight he did. Stitches he got. And home he went. But for the rest of his life, Jonah had a spiffy little scar on his forehead which, at various times, he would grow hair to cover or cut short to let the world know he had some unique markings all his own.

Life with Jonah was often a trip. And there were unique markings all over him, but they were on the inside. I loved watching this kid live his life. Once he got the hang of it, he had such a great time. In a sense, all of our lives have stitches. Most of us bang our heads on surprising obstacles more times than we’d think. But with the help of a few good people who care, we can get patched up and back on the top bunk in almost no time at all. That’s life. It roughs us up. But more often than not, lets us patch together really excellent journeys. That’s what a little boy named Jonah did. And if we’re brave, and don’t mind a few scars, we can do the same.

By the way, the very next day after Jonah’s little experiment with nocturnal flight, Kutz built guardrails for every top bunk in camp. In the end, Jonah may have gotten a great story to tell but, like I wrote above, parents would prefer not to have to call upon those emotions if they can possibly help it. If kids want to take flight at night, they’ll have to settle for doing so in their dreams.

Which isn’t a half-bad place to initiate some amazing road trips.

Billy

P.S. “Road Trip” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2013. Remembering some of the fun Jonah had on these vacations, we’d like to help other kids to enjoy and to grow during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, July 31. Okay, or any other time. Thank you.

This is a story previously told as “One for the Road” on this blog (May 31, 2009). But it’s too good to leave out of our “Road Trip” series. Enjoy!

Among my earliest memories of Jonah and driving is that of him and Aiden camped out in the backseat for each summer’s trip from Cleveland to Kutz Camp, watching enough DVDs to fill the entire 11-hour expedition. We never heard a peep out of them which, as everyone knows, is the pinnacle of successful parenting. But I also remember one time getting stopped for speeding and being horrified that my children in the backseat were looking on as the police officer wrote out my summons. This being the nadir of my parenting, I wondered how I could possibly mold them into responsible human beings (let alone, drivers) if their dad was a hardened vehicular criminal.

If this is how he treats his mother …
(Hawaii, April 2005)

When it came time for Jonah to occupy the driver’s seat, I had my concerns. At the age of fifteen, he’d staged a hit-and-run photo with Ellen where he looked just a bit too happy at the wreckage he’d wrought. So on his sixteenth birthday, when Jonah didn’t rush me down to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get him a Learner’s Permit, I was kind of relieved.

No, I was very relieved.

It would actually be closer to his seventeenth birthday before he’d studied the Driver’s Manual and took the test to get his permit. Okay, “studying” is an exaggeration here. As I recall, he took the online quiz over and over until he could pass it, and then felt ready for the real thing.

Of course, then he had to actually learn how to drive. I got to teach Jonah how to parallel park. Out in front of our house, Jonah would explain to me the simple geometry behind this ubiquitous maneuver and was then surprised when he’d hit the curb (which is pretty much how I’ve parked the car for decades but is an instant “fail” on the test).

Teaching Jonah how to drive was a thankfully uneventful and rather enjoyable experience for me. When my daughter was learning how to drive, I wasn’t quite so sanguine about it. Once, on Saw Mill River Road in Elmsford, I ejected Katie from the car when I felt she wasn’t driving safely. Apparently, my tolerance level rose considerably by the time Jonah got behind the wheel.

Jonah finally took his driving test on December 31, 2007, halfway through his senior year. Why did he wait so long? I think it was part of his growing-up process. Driving was something Jonah viewed as a responsibility, more so than just a doorway to teen freedom. He knew that once he got his license, not only would he be asked to run errands for his parents, he’d have a potentially lethal weapon in his hands. That second thought, I believe, gave Jonah sufficient pause. When he did get his license, he became a terrific driver. Very responsible. Very attentive. Very safe.

That was always the wonderful surprise of Jonah’s life. He broadcast an air of unconcern, yet had this knack for doing really well when things mattered to him. Our job as parents was to try and make sure that whenever he found something that did matter, doors (on cars and elsewhere) opened for him. These successes made Jonah feel better and better about himself as he grew into the mature and able young man who went off to college. It gave his mom and dad a lot to smile about too.

Two more driving stories.

Portrait of a safe driver?
Kutz Camp, Summer 2007

First, during the Spring 2008 production of “Hair,” Jonah drove himself and Aiden to their weekly PGT rehearsals. Aiden remembers Jonah backing out of the driveway as they set off one afternoon for White Plains, and then pushing the pedal to the floor on Oak Street for the hundred yards or so to the first corner. Coming to a stop before the turn onto Woodlands Avenue, he looked over at Aiden as if to say, “Don’t ever let Mom know I did that.”

Second, before moving up to Buffalo this past fall, he sat me down and very earnestly tried to explain the way things now needed to be. “You know, Dad, since half the drivers in this family are now living in Buffalo, it seems only fair that half the cars should be there as well.” More geometry that, to Jonah’s disappointment, didn’t translate to reality.

Every parent both welcomes and dreads the day their child becomes licensed to drive. Jonah had given us the gift of delaying that day until he was genuinely ready. Risk-taking only within a stone’s throw from his home, he brought his characteristic spirit, intellect, charm, humor and heart to acquiring one of life’s mundane yet essential (and potentially hazardous) skills. Doing so, Jonah gave us yet another enduring memory of the effervescent and endearing young man we simply loved to watch grow.

Billy

P.S. “Road Trip” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2013. Remembering some of the fun Jonah had on these vacations, we’d like to help other kids to enjoy and to grow during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, July 31. Okay, or any other time. Thank you.

Niagara Falls
August 1999

As I prepared maps and sleeping arrangements for our 1999 road trip to upstate New York and Niagara Falls, everybody told me how brave I was to take my three kids for an entire week and across an international border – without Ellen. “What a dad!” they proclaimed. “You’re sooo much braver than I am!”

I wondered at all the fuss. I should have recognized the warnings.

In the years since The Trip, I’ve dubbed Niagara Falls: “Beauty and the Beast.” Why? Because regardless of which side you visit, the falls are exquisite but they’re also a trap. There is an abundance of gimmicky museums and thrill-rides for the family to see. And pretty much every one of them exits into a souvenir store. The trap within the trap. As I watched my young children running through a funhouse, screaming as a wax alligator jumped out to surprise them, or laughing at some crazy exhibit in the Ripley’s Museum, I’d nearly forget each time what awaited us at the exit.

The trip was so much fun for all three kids, and I reveled in the luxuriant delight of getting to be with them for a solid week, that I happily acquiesced to their pleas to get a little something from each and every souvenir shop.

Then it happened.

In one of the stores, picking up a bottle of Tylenol (wonder why I needed that?) I told Aiden, who was five at the time, that we were leaving. He about-faced to return to the shelf a toy he’d been eyeing. Now I’ve never been a parent who uses the phrase “We’re leaving” to hurry my children along by threatening them with the prospect of leaving them behind. So Aiden had no way of knowing that “We’re leaving” meant I would be paying for my Tylenol at the cash register and only then would we exit the store. He thought we were walking out at that very moment. And so, after placing his toy back on its shelf, he returned to the front of the store. He didn’t notice that I was standing at the cash register and although I must have told him hundreds of times that “I will never leave you behind … anywhere,” he thought I’d left him behind and went out to find me.

Unaware of any of this, I finished paying the cashier and walked around the store to collect my kids. Since Aiden enjoyed hiding, I was only mildly surprised not to immediately find him. I calmly searched the t-shirt racks and called out his name, letting him know it was time to go. Katie and Jonah playfully joined in the search, but after four or five minutes it wasn’t fun anymore. We stepped outside the store to see if he was standing in front, but no such luck. We went back inside the store for one more search (I simply couldn’t believe he would have actually left the premises). I held it together but could feel the panic building inside me. Katie, Jonah and I left the store again. This was Clifton Hill, one main pedestrian drag, so I sent Katie up and Jonah down the hill to see if they could spot him.

After two or three more minutes, it was definitely time to panic. I walked over to the store manager to ask her to call the police. But as my mouth began to form the request, I heard Katie call my name. She had Aiden by the hand, two young men following closely behind. One was security staff for Clifton Hill, the other had spotted Aiden crying and frantically searching for his family. After the security person was satisfied I was indeed Aiden’s (inept and irresponsible) father, the other man said to me, “I lost my kid once in a crowd like this. I just couldn’t let your little boy run around without offering some help.”

Needless to say, I thanked the two gentlemen profusely. And then resolved to never let my children out of my sight ever again, a resolution which was of course completely unrealistic but altogether understandable. I sought out a handcuffs store, but settled for tightly gripping three small sets of hands the remainder of the evening.

It has been my good fortune and great privilege to parent Katie, Jonah and Aiden. I’ve never expected to get it right every time, and losing Aiden on Clifton Hill certainly confirmed that perfect parenting is rarely if ever available to any of us. Jonah’s death ten years later was another reminder that life is rarely in our control. So we grasp our loved ones’ hands a little bit tighter. And when the time arrives (as it must), we bite our lips, tell ourselves over and over that it’s the right thing to do,  loosen our grip, and we let our children go. What choice do we have? Their lives are not ours. We must eventually hand over the reins.

I suppose each of us is on a “Road Trip,” making the best plans we can, setting out on adventures whose outcomes we hope will contain few surprises and, then, only ones that uplift. At one time or another, of course, we must set about the more difficult work of managing those unexpected itinerary changes, the ones that are not much fun, hoping we’ll have the wisdom and the strength to meet those changes with patience, grace and a sense of humor.

When the trip is complete, we learn whether our most fervent prayer has come true: that everybody is home, safe and sound.

Billy

P.S. “Road Trip” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2013. Remembering some of the fun Jonah had on these vacations, we’d like to help other kids to enjoy and to grow during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, July 31. Okay, or any other time. Thank you.

Road trips are certainly part of every family’s experience. For parents, it’s often where some of the best time is spent with our kids. We’ve got them captive. And assuming they’re not plugged into any tech, we may even have their attention.

Jonah and I spent an unexpected, but lovely, day together back when he was in fifth or sixth grade. He’d been suspended from school for a day (probably for sassing one of his teachers) and, still too young to be at home alone, I had him with me at work. But I was officiating at a funeral that day, so neither Jonah nor I had any choice in the matter — he was coming with me. It was a graveside service in Paramus, NJ, and, surprising to both of us, we enjoyed the time together. The drive was pleasant, not too lengthy, and the cemetery itself was fascinating to him. Jonah did not stay in the car but wandered in and around the headstones a little ways away from where I was conducting the service. When the funeral was over, he and I did a little more walking around the cemetery, quietly talking about death and burial and such.

Fuddrucker’s
February 2006

On our way home, we stopped at Fuddrucker’s for a hamburger and, from that time on, it became his favorite burger joint. There are no Fuddrucker’s anywhere near us, so the occasional drive across the George Washington Bridge for birthdays and such were on our permanent “road trip” itinerary. This photograph was taken there for Jonah’s 16th birthday.

It was an odd outing for Jonah and me that day, but it created a surprisingly sweet, indelible memory. I really enjoyed spending the time with him.

Billy

P.S. “Road Trip” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2013. Remembering some of the fun Jonah had on these vacations, we’d like to help other kids to enjoy and to grow during their own childhood years. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org by Sunday, July 31. Okay, or any other time. Thank you.