Running for the Rangers!

This is happening! After losing 50 pounds, I got this crazy idea to run a half-marathon!  And, with your help, every step will be supporting our wounded military heroes.

As the daughter of a retired U.S. Army officer, I drew on the perseverance and faith my dad modeled to kick obesity's butt.  My dad wasn't the strongest or biggest soldier, but he had the courage to fight segregation and rise through the ranks.

Now I plan to run the San Francisco half marathon to raise funds for an incredible non-profit called Army Ranger Lead the Way Fund. Created by the family of Sgt. James Regan who was killed in action in Iraq, the Fund helps active duty and wounded Special Operations U.S. Army Rangers and families of soldiers killed in combat.

Here's a video if you want to hear more about why I'm running:

Also, please check out my GoFundMe page and thanks for helping me run for the Rangers!
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If you want to read the story of how I lost 50 pounds, click here.

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Haiti: Part 3 - A Survivor's Story

"I don't feel like a hero but lucky to have the faith and ability to help." ~Dr. Jolie (Photo: Scott Mortensen)

Haiti - part 3

"I just felt like I needed to get up early and walk around the orphanage and pray," Patty tells me about the day of the earthquake, "I don't know why."

Patty works at New Life Children's Home where we've set up our base camp. One of few American-made structures in Haiti, the compound appears almost untouched by the massive quake that killed more than 200,000 people.

I'm staying at camp to write an article for a London magazine while the medical team sets up a clinic in a remote area of town. Patty's offered to let me shower in her apartment. There's no hot water but I'm grateful for the shower after days of only having sponge baths from a bucket.

our tent camp with New Life's main building in the background.

A survivor's story
After I've showered, I ask Patty to tell me more about the earthquake.

"It didn't start out like a normal day," she says. "The guard came running in saying someone left a baby in the road." 

The staff had been able to track down the baby's mother from a note attached to the child's clothes.  The 17-year-old said she couldn't afford to feed the child. She agreed to bring Natalia's birth certificate to the orphanage later that day.

"Then the earthquake happened," Patty recalls.

"I was getting thrown everywhere. The sound was deafening. I tried to run outside. The ground was heaving."  At first, Patty didn't know that beyond the gates Port-au-Prince was in ruins. "Then I looked to the hills and there was nothing but a cloud of dust rising up. I knew it was bad. Oh my God," I said, "Oh my God."

Natalia's mother never returned that day. No one knows if she's alive or dead.

Meeting Natalia
Patty asks if I want to meet Natalia. As we walk past orphans, many with physical handicaps, tears fill my eyes. Natalia's playing on a slide. She's plump and healthy, unlike the emaciated babies I've seen so far.

I try to get Natalia to smile but she doesn't like the playtime interruption. I hold her, thinking, "Natalia, I'm sorry you were left in the road. I'm sorry you'll probably never know what happened to your mommy."

...Later it occurs to me that being abandoned on a dirt road may have saved Natalia's life.

As the sun sets and the team returns, I go sit with them under the mango tree. I feel their  strength and love, and hope rises for Haiti's future - for Natalia.

To read part 4, click here.

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Superheroes

Tobey McGuire stars as "Spiderman."  Photo: Oh My Magazine

"Can you be at the casting studio at 2:30?" my agent asked. "Sure," I said. Checking my email, I saw a problem.  The director wanted to see tall actors for a role opposite a Superhero. Though only 5'2," I knew I could nail the part: She's tough, lean and statuesque.  So I put on my 4" heels and strutted to the audition.

The director liked my audition. I would love to be cast as the Superhero. Who said crimefighters have to be tall? Tobey Maguire is only 5'8" and that didn't stop him from becoming Spiderman.

I was one of those kids who honestly believed that I was born with superhuman powers. Accompanied by my Superdoll, Dusty, I would climb the highest trees, whip bullies on the playground, race cars on my bike - all in training to save mankind.

I would tie a makeshift parachute to Dusty and throw her off a cliff into a pile of leaves (some stunts I knew better than to risk myself) to make her fly. 

One awful day, Dusty missed the landing pad. She crashed with a horrific snap on the concrete. Her head snapped off with a "pop" like the sound of someone prying off a bottle cap.

"Your dad came home to find you prostrated with grief," my mother recalls. "He got a shoebox and shovel and out to the backyard went gravedigger and chief mourner. The beheaded dolly was buried amid tears and deep sorrow."

She bought me a new doll but it was never the same as Dusty. 

That day I learned even Superheroes are mortal.

These days my definition of a Superhero is different. They're the ones whose faith births miracles.  Who love the unlovable. Who remain hidden so others can shine. 

Their courage produces a divine exchange: beauty for ashes; joy for sorrow; strength for weakness. Their names are Melissa, Steve, Phil, Esther, Jackie...friends who's hearts are set ablaze with a vision to rock the world with their gifts.

Oh, in my heart I still dream of whipping bad guys and ridding the world of evil. And if the call comes to play a Superhero, a less-than-statuesque physique won't stop me any more than it did Tobey.  Besides, like the world's top webslinger, I'm a journalist - already have the perfect cover.

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Honor

Dear Hero,

I remember the first time I saw the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. I scanned the thousands of names. put my hand out. touched the smooth, cold granite. cried tears of relief at the miracle that your name is not written there. 

I'm so grateful you came home from the battlefield.

I can't imagine the sacrifices you've made for me to grow up free; in a country where I as a black woman can vote, drive a car, worship - freedoms I've tried not to take for granted.

When I was a kid, you would take me with you when you trained the Army recruits. You saw that I had courage (reckless at times!) and let me train alongside the soldiers.  Rock climbing, flying in helicopters, learning to handle a weapon...

Remember the day I fell rappelling? All you could do was watch as my body slammed into the rocks until the safety rope pulled taut. Miraculously, not one broken bone. You've been like that safety rope - pulling taut when I stumble but never stopping me from climbing.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, I asked what you would say if you had to address the nation. You answered, "God bless the USA." 

You've fought the good fight and today you would still die for this country. Major, you are an amazing man.

Happy Veteran's Day, Dad,
Your Butterfly

(2008 to my father who fought for our freedom for more than two decades and would re-enlist now in his '70's...if the military would let him.)

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