Life Beyond The Chair

I'm going to take an unscheduled break from my early years to share this story. This picture came up in my Facebook memories, and I cannot let it go by without comment. This picture represents just how far my family will go to support all the crazy things I do. This picture was taken at the 2018 World Championships for Para surfing. Several countries from all over the world were there to compete. Through a weird set of circumstances, Spencer and I ended up as part of the dance team for the opening ceremonies; When I was asked to attend, I was told that I was there to represent Triumph Foundation as a speaker and advocate. Spencer was there to lend a hand if I needed it. What he was NOT there for, was to be a part of the wheelchair dance team with his mom. Spencer is by far the most outgoing of all my children. I've often envied the ease that he displays in every situation. However, as the reality of going on stage loomed near, Spencer looked terrified.  We had just

After my parents moved from Eagan to Mendota Heights, my dad began to travel frequently. This travel was not only for work, and there were many times that my mom had no idea where he was. My mom's family still lived in her childhood home in Winona. She was the first to marry and have children, so her sisters were anxious to have us visit often. My earliest memory of that time is me being in a playpen with a blanket draped over the top. My mom was reading, and the blanket was meant to block the light, and not wake me. I have recalled this memory repeatedly over the years. It was the only time I remember feeling safe and cared for by my mother. I felt warm, secure, and loved. This memory of my mom was what made it possible to feel anything for her in the following years. Life in Winona was a mix of dealing with Hazel, my mom's mother, and John Willis, my beloved grandfather. Hazel was a first-generation immigrant. Her parents brought her to America, then passed soo

I was born in Edina, Minnesota, on Tuesday, February 24, 1970. It was a bitter, cold day, and my mom and dad barely made it to the hospital due to icy roads. Waiting at home with the sitter was Tommy Q, my older brother by just 14 months.  People referred to us as the Italian Twins, a term used to describe babies born less than two years apart. For most of our childhood, we were like twins, and we did everything together. My mom was twenty-two, and my dad was twenty-five. They had met New Year's Eve, 1965 at a party in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, my dad's hometown. My dad had been back in the states for a few months, following two tours to Vietnam with the Navy. My mom was born in Winona, MN, and was attending Mount Mercy University as a library science major. Like everything my parents would do later in their lives together, their meeting and subsequent dating were dysfunctional and chaotic. What started on the eve of a new year, set events into motion my young parents could