For Caitlynn

To give this post context for those who won’t know what it’s about, I will tell you that Caitlynn is a 15-year-old girl with whom I have a long history (going back to the day she was born, in fact – an event for which I was actually present), although I haven’t seen her for many years. Yesterday, Caitlynn posted the following as a note on her Facebook. My response was too long for the comment section allowed on the note, so I’ve posted it here, below this copy of her own note, and provided her a link.

Here is Caitlynn’s Facebook note:

Drowning
by Caitlynn [Redacted] on Friday, April 8, 2011 at 6:07pm

Life.
A four letter word that holds so much meaning.
Have you ever sat down and really thought about what it means?
I have.
I've lived a life that I hope no one has to see.
A life of drugs and abuse.
No place to lay down at night, no food to eat: nothing.
No mother to hold you close when you cry over things you can't control.
No one to care if you cry at all.
I used to look out the window and want to fly away.
I wanted to fly far away from my problems,
from the people I stayed with, from all my fears, my pain, my regrets.I stopped dreaming for a long time, having nothing to dream about.
My nightmares got worse, more real, more vivid.
There were times when all I wanted to do was die. No one would care, right? No one around to give a damn.
This is the past, now is my present, and I work for a better future.
I think about how we live from paycheck to paycheck.
How I feel like I'm all alone when I walk the halls and see these kids act like just that. Kids.
I feel reclusive because I can't see myself ever acting like that, so I surround myself in schoolwork and teachers.
I get called a kiss up for being around the people I feel like I have more in common with, even if our pasts are different
on massive levels.
I think about this feeling of drowning that I live with when I get news that say we owe more than we can afford.
I'm drowning in troubles, problems, pain, overwhelming things that I can't fix but can't help but worry about.
I can't swim fast or hard enough to reach the surface, I can't breath, I can't stay above the water.
Someone help me.
Tell me I'm not alone.
Tell me everything will end up alright sometime soon.
My tears stain my fingers as I wipe my cheeks, washing away the evidence of my pain.
I put on a happy face to everyone but myself when I'm alone, so they never know what I really feel.
I think about what I want for my future.
I have a drive, a determination to do my best, to succeed in ways my mother didn't.
I try hard in school, keeping my grades up to a point that I can be proud of myself for once.
I want to go to college, have a career, make the money I didn't have a child.
I want to know, when I get there, that if I won't end up where I was at one time.
Homless, staying with a girl I really couldn't stand because she was so much younger than me, even if she was a year older.
Knowing my mom chose drugs and a man over me, even though she tried to find work.
She has her regrets of how our life in Las Vegas, NV ended, as do I.
I know she thinks she has ruined me by what she has done, forcing me to grow up and learn to take care of myself.
I don't know if she has.
I don't think I was meant to be a kid for as long as the others I go to school with.
I think I was meant to grow up, to be independent, to be on my own, no matter how unhappy it makes me.
I want to find someone that can balance me out, that I know won't leave, that I can feel... safe with.
I don't think I can find that someone in high school.
I don't want to "date around" as people call it.
Someone, please tell me I'm not alone in this line of thinking.
Tell me.... that I'm not wasting my years thinking this way.
Someone, please help me dry my tears.
Help me get over the past, help me not second geuss my decision to stay on one path to the future, instead of stopping and enjoying the time "I'll never get back."
I feel like I'm drowning, I can't stay above the surface of this water, the pressure is undbearable.
I'm drowning, someone please.
Tell me I'm not alone.
Revive me.
I'm not comlaining. I love that I'm alive, healthy, and have my mother with me. But why do I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders?

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And here is my reply:

Caitlynn - Here is what you don't know.

For years, when someone would get word about Caitlynn, phones would ring all over Phoenix.

Every Christmas, your picture is on display in this house with all the other kids' pictures, and everyone who knows this family at all knows who Caitlynn is.

There was always someone who cared when you cried, you just had no way to know it and we had no way to tell you.

Outside the range of your own vision or hearing, people have fought. Fought with your mother, fought with people in your life, fought with the authorities, fought with each other. What to do to help Caitlynn? What is the best way?

People have driven many miles looking for you, trying to intervene, trying to reach out only to be turned back - you sometimes never having known they were even there.

You have steadily remained a part of a family that hasn't seen you in over a decade, whether you knew you were part of that family or not.

There's always been a place for Caitlynn, "just in case".

While you were wanting to "fly away", out there all the time were people who wanted just as badly to swoop you up. There are reasons why no one could, reasons you couldn't know about, but never because no one cared.

If you only knew how many times your name came up, how often you were talked about, how much you were worried about.

I don't know if everything will end up alright soon, but it will end up alright sometime. It has to. No one can be cared about so much for so long by so many and have it be for nothing.

I would refuse to believe that. You are special, and meant for special things. Someday, somehow, it will all come together for you.

You are loved. Always.

And It All Hits The Proverbial Fan...

I think perhaps my public commitment to blogging more often may have jinxed me. Since I did that, the [insert your favorite word for excrement] has really hit the fan around the ol’ homestead here. Within just a few days of my last post, my son was in critical condition and spent four days in the ICU, then was transferred to another hospital, where he remains as of now. It’s another one of those things I can’t talk about. However, I think it’s something I may go ahead and talk about soon. I am considering how to go about it, since it hardly seems like anyone can have even the slightest picture of my life recently without some discussion of this issue. To blog about my life and not talk about this borders on the ridiculous, because this matter has overtaken my world for the last few months.

At the same time, there’s been major drama going on at home with my college-age foster son. Major. The kind of stuff that has the potential to tear my family apart – not that we wouldn’t recover, but no one wants that to happen. Except, perhaps, my foster son himself. I guess it’s not fair to say he wants it to happen, but it is fair to say that he does not care how his actions and decisions impact the family. But right now – right at this current time – I will not allow my family to be torn apart. My son needs a cohesive and tight and supportive family unit to come home to from the hospital. And for that reason, I am battling my foster son and his decisions every step of the way. He can do as he pleases at some later time – he is, after all, a legal adult – but right now I’m pulling out all the stops to keep him in line. It’s all much more complicated than I have time to go into right now, but it’s an ongoing battle that I am determined to win. When my son comes home, it will be to a peaceful, unified family without drama. And I will play every card I have to make that happen.

With all of this going on, there was a period of time where I felt as though I’d collapse under the strain of it all. I did start to lose it. Went through a period of being very emotional, crying at the drop of a hat, losing sleep, etc. But then my foster son and I got into a very nasty argument, and that argument actually served as a challenge to me. The gauntlet had been thrown down, so to speak. I am not a weak person; I am a strong, adult woman who has been through many trials in life and I will not let this cause me to lose control. I looked at my office wall, where there hangs a tea towel that someone once sent me. It has words printed on it: “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.” And so I did. I straightened up my back, told myself, “There’s no crying in baseball” (some of you may get that reference and some may not – I understand this is not baseball – LOL), and got my second wind. Or maybe it’s my twenty-second wind, I don’t know. But I’m feeling strong right now and I will handle this. All of it. For my son, for my family, and for myself. I’m a tough gal. Sometimes I just have to remember that.

This is all I have time for today, but when I figure out how to approach certain subjects, I will tell more about them. In the mean time, the tough broad in me is taking over. I am woman, hear me roar. And all that jazz.

A Day In The Life...

Ever wonder what one of my “typical” days looks like (if there is such a thing)? Well, probably you haven’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s just part of my recent commitment to blogging more often. So bear with me.

Let’s see… Right now I am house-sitting, dog-sitting and elderly-father-sitting for a friend of mine. My older kids are on spring break at the moment and out on road trips, anyway, and my younger son has been in the hospital (one of those things I can’t talk about). So, there’s no one at my house except the cats and dogs. Which, of course, I have to also make sure are cared for even though I’m doing all this “sitting” (why do we use that word when it is so misleading, sounding so easy?), so I do a lot of driving back and forth between our house and the house where I’m staying. With me so far?

So, I was up until about 3 a.m. last night (well, technically this morning I suppose) doing laundry and handling some matters regarding my son. This morning I rose all bright and cheery (total lie, but that’s okay – we’ll just keep it between us) at 7:30 to make sure that my friend’s father – we’ll call him “Mr. B” – took his morning meds. After that I actually tried to go back to bed for about half an hour because I was really tired, but my friend’s dogs were having none of that nonsense. So I just decided to hit the ground running and take on the day.

Let the dogs out to do their thing while I ran another load of laundry and washed last night’s dishes. Then I hopped in the car and drove over to my own house to do yard work that one of my kids was supposed to do before taking off on his road trip. Do I sound bitter there? If not, I should, so try to “hear” it that way. Because I was rather irritated. Oh, he also didn’t take out the trash. But I digress…

Over at the ol’ homestead I fed and watered our own pets and generally cleaned up the joint. Then I had to spend some time on the phone making doctor’s appointments and talking to the insurance adjuster about our roof. Oh, and this was fun – I had to return a call to CPS (Child Protective Services) regarding a matter with one of the kids, again being something I can’t talk about. I just LOVE dealing with CPS. But it goes with the territory and this worker has actually been pretty nice and of at least average intelligence, so it hasn’t been so bad this time around.

Then, while at home, I packed up some items that I’d sold from my online booth (Rummage Rampage at Bonanza.com – don’t forget to visit!) and then ever-so-smoothly dropped the whole stack of them all over the driveway when I tried to be super cool and carry them all out to the car at once. But what’s a day without the neighbors laughing at ya, right? Headed to the post office after that, and on the way received a phone call from one of my “strays”, who now lives in Vegas. She’s in town, needs to talk, wants to see me. Okay. I will make time, and I’ll call her back, I say.

Headed for the Post Office. Line out the door, as usual. One guy working the counter. Ah, well, I am nothing if not patient (which means sometimes I really am nothing – lol). I’d wanted to use the machine to pay for my postage, but it was down, out of paper. So I stood in line with my 20-foot tall stack of boxes. Well, it was more like three feet tall, but when I’m crabby I like to exaggerate and get sympathy. Heh.

Left the Post Office and headed to the Pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions. Also to talk to Allen – my favorite pharmacist because he’s always straight with me, even more than the doctors are – about some new meds they’re putting my kid on that are kind of hardcore. Allen tells me these really are the best ones for the condition in question, so I am satisfied with that. Pick ‘em up, do a little grocery shopping for dinner (because my pharmacy is in the grocery store), and head out to the parking lot to return that phone call to my Vegas stray. ‘Cause I can’t (and shouldn’t, anyway) talk on the cell phone while I’m driving. By the way, I don’t normally even have a cell phone – this one is borrowed because my friend whose house/dogs/dad I’m sitting wanted me to have one while I was staying at her place.

Talk to my Vegas stray for about twenty minutes and make arrangements to visit with her tomorrow at a Starbucks. Meanwhile, in my head, I just hope I can really afford Starbucks. LOL. But I’m not going to be at my house and I don’t want her coming to where I’m staying because the four dogs here are relentless barkers at strangers, so Starbucks it is. Count the change in the ashtray. Looks like I’m good as long as I get the smallest drink they sell. Ha ha.

Headed back to the house/dogs/dad sitting locale. It’s about 4:30 by now, and I have until 5:30 to make dinner for “Mr. B” and carry it across the street to him. After that I will have to leave to visit my son at the hospital, so I’m kind of on a time crunch. “Mr. B” is a very nice old man, so he’ll want to talk for a minute and ask how my son is doing. Better make that dinner ready by 5:15.

Honey mustard glazed pork tenderloin, garlic and parsley red potatoes, and mixed vegetables with cheese sauce. In 45 minutes – yep, I’m good. Make a plate for “Mr. B”, cover it in foil, and head across the street. He chats for a minute, which I don’t mind, then asks if I will pick up a newspaper for him. Add that to the “to do” list… I tell him I will do that, but probably won’t be back until late, so I will leave it on his doorstep – I promise.

I could really use a shower today, but that’s not in the cards.

Throw on a clean shirt so I won’t smell like someone who’s been sweating over an oven in the kitchen, and head off to the hospital. It’s waaaay across town and traffic is a nightmare. But that’s okay. I am nothing if not patient…

Visit my son. He seems to be improving, so that is good. Talk to a lot of the other kids there who don’t get visitors often (many are in CPS custody and only see their case workers – sad). The kids there flock to me like – well, I don’t know what like, but they flock to me. A few were calling me “mom” by the second night I visited. They are so starved for attention, so sad. Just my taking a moment to look at a picture they drew or praise a poem they wrote gets them all excited. Wish I could take them all home, but of course I can’t. I do give them all my blog address, though, so they can keep in touch with me in the future if they choose to, and if they need anything that I can help with (hate ending a sentence with a preposition, but whatever). Next, I have a talk with my son’s nurse, and I’m off.

It’s 7:15 p.m. by now. I haven’t eaten or showered still today, but that’s okay because eating and showering is for sissies. I head back to my friend’s house, where at 7:30 it is time to check in with “Mr. B” and make sure he takes his medication on time. Of course he asks about my son, bless his heart. Then I head back across the street, feed and water my friend’s dogs, and warm up some of the leftovers from the dinner I made earlier (okay, guess I am a sissy, because I did finally decide I had to eat). I sit down at the computer to eat my late dinner and check e-mails. Several to answer, several I have to put off because they’re inquiring about items that I don’t have here with me, so I make a note to myself that I will find the answers to their questions when I’m back at my own house tomorrow. Add it to the huge list of things to do when I’m go back there. Then I get to work: Do some online research on a few things I brought here to this house with me, things that I’ve marked, “What the heck is this?” I find a few answers, set the rest aside to work on some more later. Type up a couple of descriptions for items to list in my booth, tweet about a few things in my booth (find me on Twitter @thefreelancemom – yay!), answer a few more e-mails that have come in, upload some ready items to my booth, “update” my booth (that’s what you have to do on Bonanza.com whenever you’ve added new stuff). In-between all this, I can’t resist the urge, of course, to check my Facebook a couple of times and throw out a smart remark here and there. Ha ha. Then I make a post to my Facebook fan page for my booth, just so I can make sure everyone knows I’m still here because I haven’t been saying much there lately. Go back and look at my booth, realize a couple of items didn’t come out quite right when I uploaded them, so I spend about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to fix that problem. Get it fixed. My back hurts from sitting in this chair. Time to get away from the desk for a while.

I’ve brought a few boxes with me of stuff that was donated. Take a little while to sort through the stuff. I will be dropping of whatever is suitable at the Tumbleweed Drop-In Center in the morning (theoretically – if no crises arise). The rest I sort into “I can sell this in my booth” or “Goodwill” (which doesn’t mean it’s something bad, just might be a clothing item that missing the size tag or something). Naturally I make a mess while sorting all this stuff out, so then I have to clean the mess. ‘Cause this ain’t my house. LOL.

By this point it’s almost 11 p.m. I call and check on each of my road-trippin’ college kids, because you know they’re not going to call and check in with Mom. And Mom is always going to worry, even if they are “grown up”.

Once they’ve been confirmed as safe and either relatively sober or using a designated driver, I take a little “me time”. Fifteen minutes of doing this “mindfulness” meditation thing that my therapist has me doing (you didn’t think I lived this life and wasn’t in therapy, did you?). At first I thought it sounded silly, but I have a lot of respect for my therapist and I try to be open-minded, so I gave it a shot. Been doing it for about a month now, and I actually find it really helpful. I was surprised at that. It helps me get focused and not me a scatter-brain so much. So, once I’ve done that for fifteen minutes and now I’m feeling all focused and everything…

Back to work. Oh, but wait – not yet because my mother is calling. I didn’t call her after visiting my son at the hospital, and she wants an update about him. My bad. I fill her in, and then get to work. More work on my booth items, which you don’t want to read about in detail. After that, I have some correspondence to catch up with; I’ve been trying to update the info on my resource list for homeless and at-risk youth, so I’ve been communicating with people at the different agencies that I mention there, making sure all the info is still accurate (it isn’t, which is why I haven’t re-posted it in a while).

At midnight, I tell myself I’m going to bed early (midnight is early for me). But then, as soon as I’m in my jammies, the phone starts ringing. My foster son wants to know if I can help him some more with his FAFSA when he gets back (that’s college financial aid stuff, for you who aren’t familiar). Of course I can, I tell him. I don’t feel like being crabby at him, so I don’t mention that he could just have easily asked me that question earlier than midnight. Next call is from one of my strays who now lives in California. She wants an update on my son, also. She gets off work really late, so I can’t get mad at her for calling at this hour. Besides, she probably figured I’d be up anyway. I usually am.

Now it’s almost 2 a.m. and I’m having a hard time falling asleep. I read for a while. Then I try again to doze off, but my friends dogs love me way too much and decide they must fight over positions in the bed with me. Once I’m comfortable, the last of the dogs wanders in and needs help up on the bed because he’s old and can’t make the jump. I get myself up again, lift him onto the bed, and get comfy again. Except I forgot to call in refills on my own medications (having been focused on my kids’ prescriptions). So I get up and make that call while I’m thinking about it; otherwise I will forget. Oh, and I’d better take out the trash or the dogs will dig into it in the middle of the night. Do that. Hear the phone ring again and ignore it. If it’s an emergency they’ll stalker-call me. If it doesn’t ring again within the next few minutes, then it can wait until morning.

So again, having told myself I’d go to bed “early”, I hit the sack and start to doze at three in the morning. Will need to be up at 7:30 to take care of meds for “Mr. B”. Also let the dogs out so they don’t pee everywhere (my friend has the coolest mop, but I don’t love it that much). I’m also determined to get this stuff over to Tumbleweed tomorrow in addition to all the other errands I have to run and work I have to do and making my daily visit to my son, so I’ll need an early start. And so, the cycle continues…

I just hope that tomorrow I get time for a shower. For everyone’s sake.

And that, folks, was my day today. Fairly typical. Different issues, different crises and different things to do on different days, but the struggle for shower time and a decent night’s sleep is pretty much the norm. In any case, here’s a sample of my life for y’all. And I’ve kept my commitment to blogging more often. Yay!

(P.S. – For the record, I actually typed this yesterday and just got it posted today. Not that it matters, I’m just weird about making sure I’m accurate. LOL.)

Gonna Try To Be Better At This!

I should blog more often, I know. I’m not a very experienced or savvy “blogger”, so I often look around for tips and advice on how to be better at it (without making a whole lifestyle out of it – ‘cause I don’t have time for that). Everywhere it says to blog often, blog a lot, etc. This shouldn’t be difficult for me because I do think my life is pretty interesting, but there’s one big problem: Nobody ever wants me blogging about them!

I have lots of kids who have come in and out of my life and my home. A good number of them are grown now, and some are still here, living at home while attending college or high school; all of them are always considered part of the family. Well, most of them. There have been a few over the years, as would be expected, with whom I’ve had to cut ties. But those are far in the minority.

Anyway, not everyone ends up being what might be considered a “success story” (yet… there is always to keep learning, growing and evolving, so I don’t give up on them just because they’re grown). Those young people don’t necessarily want me blabbing to the whole world about them. Some really are “success stories”, but they don’t want me to talk about their pasts. Sigh…

Drug problems, family issues, criminal activities, etc. are all things that they want to leave far behind them, in the past and buried there. And that is understandable. There is always the concern that someone who knows me in “real life” will read my blog, and even if I don’t use any names, they will be identified simply because people who know me – and probably know them – will figure out exactly whom I’m talking about.

I am so proud of one because he used to be “this” and now he’s “that”. On another day I might feel like talking about the difficulties I’m experiencing with “X Kid” due to mental health issues, but “X Kid” wants all that kept on the “down low”. Or I might be upset because “Miss So-And-So” was dishonest with me and caused a lot of problems for our family. But, even though I may be unhappy with her, it isn’t fair to put “Miss So-And-So’s” issues out all over the internet for the world to see.

So, it’s a bit of a dilemma, but I’m thinking about ways to possibly talk about my experiences with “my” kids in some sort of discreet way. I don’t know what ideas I will come up with (I’m open to suggestions!), but we’ll see.

It occurred to me, though, that perhaps I don’t have to talk about the kids all the time, or about projects I’m working on. Especially since I’m not always working on a project, and in-between them, I can’t always talk about the kids without running into the aforementioned issues. I’m thinking, then, that I’ll broaden my proverbial horizons here. Maybe talk about myself a little more (something I should probably get a bit more comfortable with if I’m supposed to be blogging about my life), or tell you all a bit about my past and how it led me to where I am today, or even better – where I’d like to be in the future. Perhaps I should occasionally share some tips on how to live “on the cheap”, because I’m a pro at that! Maybe even – on a sort of related note – I could share some of my recipes for feeding a lot of mouths without a lot of money. See? Ideas are coming to me even as I type! : )

In any case, I’m committing to blogging more often. Making this a more interesting place for y’all to visit. There, I said it – now I just have to do it!

Great Article On Kids "Aging Out" Of Foster Care

Someone (actually several people) that I follow on Twitter “tweeted” about this really good article that touches on many of the issues faced by young adults when they “age out” of foster care. I really hope you will take the time to read it (click here).

It’s important for everyone to remember that kids who are in foster care are not there because they are bad kids. They are not there because they did something wrong. Likewise, when they reach the age of legal adulthood and “age out” without having a family support system, they are once again in a situation that is not of their own doing.

Many of these young adults become homeless, at least for some period of time in their lives. Some commit crimes. Plenty of young women – often starved for love and affection and lacking self-esteem – become young single mothers. There are obviously lots and lots of potential problems in the road they face as young people entering society for the first time as adults.

Am I excusing bad behavior because someone comes from a difficult childhood and/or lacks a family? Of course not. I am only saying that it’s something to keep in mind. You may often see these “aged out” young people without even realizing it: The young man on the bus who looks like a hardened “street thug”, the too-young mother in the grocery line with the food stamps or WIC check, the guy with the “attitude” vibe whom you sub-consciously (or consciously) steer clear of when walking down the street. Sometimes these are those kids.

All I’m suggesting is that we all judge just a little bit less and care a little bit more. It may seem like it won’t matter, won’t make any difference. I can tell you from a lot of personal experience that it can matter.

Just something to consider.

Happy New Year and The Scoop On The Stockings Project (Went Great!)

A belated Happy New Year to everyone! I want to let you all know that the Christmas stockings project worked out fabulously, thanks to some wonderful last-minute helpers and contributors to whom I will be eternally grateful. I’m sorry it took me a month to post here and let you all know, but my son’s illness has kept me beyond preoccupied. Better late than never, though. Right?

I owe lots and lots of thanks to:

Athene Robben and her charming little girls, Candace and Ruby
Mike Bonkoski and his wonderful family

Lisa Wagner

Molly Weeks
Leslie Daniels

For the first time in all my 42 years, we had no Christmas at our house this year. Not at all. No tree, no decorations, no gifts, nothing. My son’s illness overtook my entire life in December – all my time and all my money. I have never had such an experience as this before. The fact that we were able to pull through with the stockings project for the homeless youth as what lifted our spirits here at home and made the season “bright” in spite of all its difficulties. Thank you so much to all who helped.

Here are a few pics...

Some really beautiful stockings that Athene and her girls made at home:

Spreading out and sorting all the "stocking stuffer stuff" at the church where we got together:

Athene and her girls personalizing some more stockings with puff paints:

Laying the painted stockings out to dry:

Gustavo (my foster son) helping carry boxes of stockings into the Tumbleweed Drop-In Center:

I asked him to let me take another picture and he had to act like a goofball:

The happy staff at the Tumbleweed Drop-In Center:

That's all the pics I got - not a lot, I know. It was a kind of crazy-busy day, though, and I just couldn't keep running around with the camera. Anyway, I just wanted to share this with all of you and thank those who helped. Absolutely, positively could not have done it without you!

That's all for now, but I must say this: Here's looking forward to a better and smoother 2011!!! Right? Please!!! LOL! :)

This Year's Christmas Project For Homeless Youth - I Am Desperately In Need Of Help And I'm Not Above Begging!

As it turns out, I am going to need a lot of last minute help with this year’s Christmas project for the homeless youth. I am so far behind on it due to my son’s recent health problems that I don’t even see how I can get it done without some kind of “Christmas Miracle”. But I can’t give up because it MUST be done – not only for the kids at Tumbleweed, but for my son as well.

See, when I offered to put together stockings and made the arrangements with Tumbleweed, it came up because the man who has been doing Christmas stockings for them every year was unable to do them this year. So, I stepped in and offered to do them since I already knew that I was not going to be able to dinner this year like I had last year. At the time it seemed perfectly “do-able”, but then my son started to get sick – and then sicker and sicker. Now I find myself nearly at the last minute and all I have are about five stockings, some toiletry items and a few small gifts.

Here is why this is so important: Not only will these homeless young people get no Christmas gifts if I drop the ball here, but also my son will feel like he caused it to happen. He has been in on this project since it first came up, so it’s not as if he isn’t aware that it’s come to such a halt. Of course his illness is not his fault, and I can comfort him and reassure him all I want, but I know my son – he is going to feel bad. He is already under tremendous stress, and stress aggravates his condition. I have to make this project happen – for the homeless kids and for him.

I am not above anything at this point. I will beg, I will plead, I will post my begging and pleading all over the place – anywhere I can. I will do whatever it takes. Please help me out here!

Here’s what you can do: Click here to see a list of needed items. If you can donate any of them, especially if you’re local here in Phoenix, please do. If you can’t do that but you’re able to toss a few dollars toward the project, click here to do that. Last, but most certainly not least – if you would, please post this blog anywhere you can. Tweet it, post it on your Facebook or MySpace, say something on your web site if you have one, etc. Anything to get the word out. Again, this is especially helpful if you are here in Phoenix or know people who are local here and might donate items (or time). But no matter where you are – I would so appreciate it if you would do this!

If you have any questions, you can always contact me at salmagundigeneral@yahoo.com. If you have concerns of want references so you can rest assured that I’m not some kind of scammer, I can easily provide you lots of those. If there’s anything at all you want to know, just drop me a line.

Thank you so much for reading, and please – please! – help out if you can!

Cheri