46 Acts of Kindness (3)

From Uncle Jim in DC/Virginia:

Bought breakfast snacks for my office.

Just delivered snacks (Veggies, Fruit and Cookies) to the Arlington County Fire Station #5. 

Providing Metrocards to visitors arriving at Reagan National Airport to get them on their way. 

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From the Tittle family in Lubbock:

In honor of the entire Damm family, we had cupcakes decorated with Steve's "act of kindness" logo and delivered them to the Joe Arrington Cancer Research and Treatment Center in Lubbock. We asked that they be shared with the staff as a thanks for all they do.

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From Carley in Frisco:

Surprised my sweet hairdresser with flowers today.

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From Betty, Steve's mom, in Dallas:

The memory of Steve is a bright spot in my heart and so today I delivered small cakes to the seniors and the staff of our church. One friend said as she eats her cake she will say thank you for the many blessings of life. I say thank you to everyone who has spread love and joy to others today.

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From Jamie in Frisco:

I did one small act of kindness for your husband today...Due to the rainy cold day we are having, I brought hot chocolate to Max's daycare for all.


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From Mike in Dallas:

Lunch for these unsuspecting ladies. I'm surprised how unexpected -- and awkward -- a random act of kindness can be. I found myself wanting to explain, "No, really, I'm not a creep." Thanks, Tyra, for the opportunity to shatter someone's expectations.

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From Tanya in Humble:

I bought a stranger's Starbuck's order. He was so appreciative and couldn't wait to pay it forward!

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From Kelly in Oklahoma/Texas:

As I woke up this morning, not working anywhere and not feeling extra connected to any one community at this time, I decided to go to Sonic, a place I frequent quite often. The young man who brought me my drink order was a bit confused when I told him I was giving him a $46 tip. Through his confused state, I told him about Steve Damm and his sweet, loving family and how they honor him every year on his birthday. This young man's reaction was of appreciation and he promised me he would remember Steve's name as he pays it forward. Tyra, I consider myself one of the lucky ones to have had to pleasure to know Steve Damm and your strong little family! As I'm sure today is bitter sweet, I pray that you, Cooper and Katie will continue finding ways to inspire all of us, not just on this day, but all through the year.

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From Jana in Frisco:

Jacob and I took hot chocolate to the front desk and childcare ladies at the YMCA.

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From Ria in Frisco:

I brought lunch to the Girl's athletics coaches at Pioneer Heritage Middle School today in honor of Steve! God bless the Damm family!

46 Acts of Kindness (2)

From Kelli in Frisco:

We sent a gift card to a single mom of 2 who is currently out of work. Happy Birthday Steve!

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From Kathy in Frisco:

At Scottish Rite to thank the nurses for all they do for their patients!

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From Phil in Frisco:

Kindness is for kids too! Our kids participated in 46 acts of kindness today to celebrate our family friend Steve Damm's 46th birthday. Our sweet Halle told us this morning that she was going to spend time with and play with a girl in her school that usually is all by herself. When Halle asked her if she could spend time with her today, the girl replied "I didn't expect anyone to ask me that today!"

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From Lisa in Frisco:

Paid off someone's layaway balance in honor of Steve Damm.

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From Uncle Jim in DC/Virginia:

Handing out some $5 Gift Cards at Chick-Fil-A. DC folks sometimes give you some strange looks when you give them something without asking for anything in return. (I wish there were drive thru windows around to make it a little easier to be sneaky!)

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From Heather in Allen:

Treated 2 of my favorite 10 year old boys to slushies at Sonic after school. Tipped the carhop generously and loved the look on his face and the BIG thank you as he walked away reading the card about Steve. Priceless. Happy Birthday Steve. Love you guys Tyra, Cooper and Katie!

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From Angie in San Diego:

So this is maybe a sort of unconventional act of kindness, but something really meaningful to me. I've been struggling lately with overwhelming sadness and anxiety that has been pretty paralyzing. It has been a struggle to just keep up with usual chores. Well, today I woke up with unusual energy and am cleaning and organizing my house. It is an act of kindness toward myself and one that I really need right now. I find that my physical environment is a reflection of my internal state of mind and today I am able to take steps to a feeling of well being. I am so grateful for this. Happy birthday, sweet Steve Damm .I have a feeling both you and my Dad are together and shining down on the world and spreading love everywhere, I can feel it.

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From Liz in Frisco:

Plate of pumpkin scones for the front office.

Sonic for school office receptionist.

Large tip at Sonic and TruFire.

Baylen gave a Starbucks gift card to a janitor at Frisco High School.

Lunch for the BEST 4th grade teacher in Texas.

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From Shari in Lucas:

My favorite day! We did 4 small acts of kindness in honor of Steve today! Big tip, cookies for Allen's finest and 2 pay it forward at Starbucks drive thru. 

46 Acts of Kindness (1)

From Stephanie in Shanghai, China:

I'm 14 hours ahead of you so it's already November 4th where I am in Shanghai, China.  Today my kids surprised their teachers with flowers.  And we wanted to let you, Cooper and Katie know that we are thinking about Steve all the way in China!  :)

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From Nancy in Frisco:

We look forward to celebrating Steve's birthday each year now with your family!  This year it has been a especially meaningful as we have been helping some of our dear high school friends.  He has a glioblastoma and isn't doing very well.  I was with them in May when they found out and with them Thursday when they made decisions about whether he would continue chemo.   

I can't tell you how many times I have thought of Steve and your family during this journey with our friends.  When we saw Dr. Pan on Thursday, I remembered as we entered the Seay building how you said Steve liked the Chuhily sculpture there and I just stopped there and thought of your sweet family.  We will continue to be there for them.  Thanks for the yearly reminder to help or just be nice to others. We feel so humbled by this sweet couple. 

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From Katrina in Oslo, Norway

I started in prayer at the cathedral in downtown Oslo. There I lit a candle for Steve and for you, Cooper and Katie. I put a donation, wrapped in the Acts of Kindness note, in the donation box. 

Then I walked up the main street with my pocket full of change. I dropped money into cups, hands and music cases.

I made my way to the bookstore, where on Saturday, a lovely young lady helped me, Jakob and Eva find some things we were looking for. I brought a thank you note, a gift card and the Acts of Kindness note to her.

I then stopped to warm up with a cup of coffee and I'm sure the barista was passing on Steve's love. 

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From Padmini in Frisco:

I was moved to read about your family. I cannot begin to tell you how much I admire the way you are honoring your husbands special day. I am glad i got to do a lil part in it.

I went to a donuts place and paid for 10 people to have free donuts and left them your calling cards. I got John our crossing guard at school some coffee and i bought a extra poncho for anyone who forgot their umbrella. Invariably it ended up with our mutual friend Jennifer Kiley Keating and she said she could sense it was for Steve.

Aniruddh has donated his pocket money to a food bank who said they would feed 100 families with money we sent in. We requested this in honor of Steve, and I would like to thank him and you for this opportunity to do a  kind deed.

It feels strange listing down small things we did … but I thought you might use it for bigger picture.

You are an amazing mom. Much love to Katie and Cooper. 

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From Amy in Little Elm:

I left an envelope of money for a single mom of 3 who lives in my old apartment complex. She's so deserving. I love this! Reading all the posts brings tears to my eyes. Happy Birthday Steve!

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From Leslie in Frisco:

Was at Kroger picking up cookies to take to the voting poll for the volunteers and stopped at the Starbucks there to pay for a woman's latte. She was so touched that she said she was going to pay for someone else's drink. Thank you Tyra Damm for helping us live out Steve's legacy. What a wonderful reminder of how we should act each day.

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From Jennifer in Frisco:

I was blessed to be on both the giving and receiving end of 46 Acts of Kindness :) A friend saw I had forgotten my umbrella when I picked up my boys in the rain and gave me a rain poncho (with Texas A&M logos all over it) :)

I bought a gift card to Dunkin' Donuts and left it for our mail carrier.

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From Suzanne in Frisco:

I worked with a family at Clothe A Child a few weeks ago. One of the children wanted a coat more than the clothes his mother got for him with the $100. I delivered the coat today to his mother who works for Frisco ISD.

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From Julianne in Frisco:

My 2 youngest took flowers and Sonic cards to their sweet teachers and my older two took Sonic cards, homemade cookies and hand written notes of appreciation to some of their favorite middle school teachers in memory of Steve and in honor of Tyra, who is one AWESOME teacher!

46 Acts of Kindness: How-To Guide

It's almost time for 46 Acts of Kindness! On Tuesday, Nov. 4, you can share love and kindness in memory of Steve and help us reach our goal of 46x10 acts of kindness.

Here's a step-by-step guide to the big day.

1. Print the 46 Acts "calling card" that you can leave behind with your act of kindness. Click here for the card.

2. Surprise someone -- someone you know or a complete stranger -- with your act of kindness. Leave the card if you choose.

3. Take a photo if you'd like.

4. If you're comfortable doing so, communicate with me your act of kindness -- a short story plus a photo if you have one. You can email me at tyradamm@gmail.com. You can text me at 972-489-4344. You can post to our Facebook page. 

5. Check back on the blog in the afternoon for an inspirational gathering of acts of kindness! (I'm teaching during the day. I'll blog as soon and as fast as I can!)

6. Need some inspiration or ideas? Check out this post for a few.

Thank you so much for making Steve's birthday one of the most joyful days of the year! My heart is full knowing that Cooper and Katie can witness so much love in memory of their awesome daddy!

Cooper and Katie on Steve's bench, Nov. 2, 2014

One week and one day to go

Next Tuesday, Nov. 4, is Steve's birthday and 46 Acts of Kindness!

You can read more about it here.

If you'd like to leave behind a note with your gift or act of kindness, you can click here for a copy to print. 

And if you're comfortable sharing your act of kindness, please plan to communicate with me on Tuesday. (I'll be teaching during the day, so blogging will begin in the late afternoon.)

You can:
Email me at tyradamm@gmail.com
Text me at 972-489-4344
Post on our Facebook page

We can't wait for the big day!

Save the date: Nov. 4

Mark your calendars for one of the best days of the year: Tuesday, Nov. 4!

For the fourth year in a row, we will be celebrating Steve's birthday by sharing acts of kindness. Because Steve was born 46 years ago, we're working toward 46 acts of kindness, but we know from past experience that this number will multiply throughout the day. Our stretch goal is 460 acts of kindness in one day in memory of Steve!

What have kind folks done in previous years? This list is extensive. Here are a few ideas:

• Donate to MD Anderson
• Bake and deliver cupcakes to neighbors
• Pay for coffee for the people behind you
• Give a generous tip
• Donate books
• Buy someone's dinner
• Stock some baby-changing tables with diapers
• Deliver flowers to an assisted-living home
• Pick up trash in your neighborhood
• Take treats to a fire station
• Help a neighbor with yard work
• Take hot chocolate to a crossing guard

Cooper, Katie and I are hatching our own plans, and we can't wait to share in the joy of the day with you all!

Inheritance

At dinner last night, Katie and I were telling Cooper about mohair goats. Did you know that half of the world's mohair supply comes from goats in and around the Texas Hill Country? (Katie and I learned this together earlier in the day, during social studies instruction. Six weeks in, and I have to say I love having Katie in my class. Even when she's a little too chatty.)

All three of us wanted to see what a mohair goat looks like. So I searched online and found the most adorable photos. 

So fuzzy!

We decided that we want -- no, we need -- a mohair goat.

Then we wondered what one might look like after shorn.

That's when Cooper exhibited the most Steve Damm-like laugh I've seen since Steve Damm last laughed.

Coop rocked back and forth. Very little sound came from his body. His face turned bright red. He could barely breathe. He was totally tickled. It was completely contagious.

***

Katie on Saturday at Frisco City Hall

Katie performs "The Magic Porridge Pot."

Last weekend was the big Lone Star Storytelling Festival. For the second year in a row, Katie was one of the student tellers. Over the past few months, she has practiced at the library under the direction of storytelling coaches and performed at community events. 

On Friday, she performed her tale, "The Magic Porridge Pot," in front of 500 people at our school's morning assembly. And on Saturday, she told her story again, this time at Frisco City Hall, as part of an opening act before master storyteller Willy Claflin.

There's no way I would be comfortable in front of all those people, acting dramatically, using various voices. Do you know who would have been? Steve Damm. He could charm small groups and large crowds with ease. He loved to entertain. 

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Cooper and Katie are blessed to have inherited so many fine qualities from their daddy. I'm especially thankful this week for their shared sense of humor, their ability to laugh at themselves, their courageous spirits and their willingness to stretch comfort zones. What fine riches to fuel joyful lives!

Katie and Cooper at Steve's bench, Sept. 21, 2014

Life and death go on

For a while after Steve passed away, I sort of felt like nothing bad could happen ever again to anyone we know and love. As if somehow Steve's illness, suffering and death would fulfill some unspoken quota.

It's not logical or theologically sound, I realize. And certainly reality hit soon after.

Every few months in the past five years, someone we know, someone we love has been diagnosed with a grave illness or died unexpectedly or suffered severe trauma or experienced an enormous loss (of a loved one or a job or a relationship).

Life and death go on.

Jason Dugger, a former colleague at the Dallas Morning News, died unexpectedly last week, leaving behind his wife and two young sons.

Alex Podeszwa, teenage son of one of Steve's fraternity brothers, passed away last week, after living with neuroblastoma for nine years. (Alex's dad, Dave, introduced Cooper and Katie to the fine art of hospital bed rides way back in 2007, when Steve was first hospitalized. The Podeszwas were instrumental in helping us navigate the cancer world.)

Maureen McClendon, mom of three children including my high school friend Angela, died last week, four months after first showing signs of what would be identified as a glioblastoma. She was 76 and still working full time as senior research analyst at the time of her diagnosis.

On Saturday, Sept. 6, my dear friend Melissa and I spent an evening with Maureen and her children.

Maureen and I held hands, and she asked me questions about Steve. She wanted to know about his course of treatment, how long he lived after diagnosis. They were difficult questions to answer, not because I have trouble talking about Steve but because I wanted to protect Maureen, whose health was so quickly demolished by one of the very worst tumors.

I shared some of his experience. I listened as she talked about her recent travels to Europe and Hawaii, about her role in a national insurance organization, about photos and cards on the kitchen table.

Later in the evening, she looked at me and told me she was sorry for my loss. All my strength dissipated. We held each other and sobbed. I cried for Steve and Maureen and for everyone in between who has suffered brain cancer, neuroblastoma, aneurism, stroke. This list is too long.

Maureen sent me home with a gift. A pair of bedazzled eyeglasses, slightly broken but fixable, in case I wanted to switch out her lenses for my own.

For now, her frames sit on my dresser, a small reminder of our fragility and our connectedness, of the importance of holding hands and sharing stories while we can.

A heart still broken, yet blessedly full

My column from today's Briefing:

I love you. Thank you.

Those were the final words from my beloved husband.

He couldn’t speak them — his body was shutting down — but he desperately wanted to. My sister hastily wrote the alphabet. After Z was scribbled, he began pointing to letters to form those final phrases.

I’ve carried those simple, powerful words in my heart for five years — somehow, at once, the most excruciatingly slow and exceedingly brisk years possible.

Five years a widow. Five years a single parent to two children who understand their loss in ever-evolving fashion. Five years without Steve.

My heart is somehow still frightfully broken yet blessedly full.

My grief is more contained, less obvious. More controlled, less needling. Grief is no longer my constant companion, though I can’t imagine life without it.

I have to guard against too much “life without” thinking — life for Cooper and Katie without their daddy, life without the man I married 20 years ago, life without a second adult in the house to help with chores, bill-paying and parenting.

Instead, we try to embrace the life we’ve got.

I sometimes joke about my expertise, reluctantly earned over the past few, unexpected years.

Before cancer disrupted our lives, I was a reliable source of facts and opinions on car seats, accredited daycare centers, homemade baby food, the best picture books for toddlers and hidden family adventures in Dallas-Fort Worth.

Now I can answer questions about brain cancer, patient advocacy, hospice care, second opinions, how to prepare children for a death and multilayered approaches to handling grief.

Good gracious, I preferred the former.

We don’t get a choice, though. So I’ve tried to recognize the silver linings, wherever they’re found, and to share what our family learned through Steve’s illness and death.

We honor Steve’s memory as often as we can. His photos are still in our home.

We tell Steve stories — how he would randomly break out his German accent at dinner, how he liked to dance to Jane’s Addiction while washing dishes, how he would hide the kids’ blankets in his shirt at bedtime and pretend he couldn’t find them. (That stunt earned sleepy giggles every single time.)

Almost every Sunday morning, we park on the north side of our church, as near as possible to the stone bench installed in Steve’s memory, marked with his name and favorite Scripture. Cooper and Katie sit on the bench, and I take photos.

We look forward to his birthday, a day that we’ve turned into a worldwide celebration. We invite friends — who invite their friends — to perform acts of kindness in Steve’s memory. Thanks to all those folks and the power of social media, thousands of people all over the globe have received special surprises on the fourth day of November.

I’m giddy just thinking about it.

Five years ago I couldn’t imagine that I would ever feel giddy again. Yet in that time we’ve moved forward — and with growth comes joy.

We’ve forged new relationships. (In 2009, I couldn’t imagine making new friends. Who would want to be friends with such a messy mess? And how would they ever understand me if they didn’t know Steve?)

Cooper and Katie continue to mature, to tackle new challenges, to express themselves with clarity and eloquence. (In 2009, I wonder if Steve could have envisioned his son as a clarinetist and his daughter as a violinist. Could he know how witty Cooper would become? How poetic Katie would become?)

Together the three of us have traveled, gotten lost and found our way back. We’ve attacked home repair projects and experimented with new recipes. We’ve read classic novels together. We’ve danced in the kitchen while washing dishes. (Though never exactly re-creating Steve’s smooth moves.)

Each of us understands the value of the life we get to live. And we try, as often as we can, to repeat those most simple, significant words.

Thank you. I love you.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.