The Moon State, a Global Warming Hoax, and Secret Swiss Bank Accounts: A Train Wreck Worse Than Reality TV

By Troy Foster

It’s really too bad that I’m talking about the Republican debate last night, but you can’t make this stuff up.  I don’t normally write about politics because I worked in D.C. for a staunchly conservative Republican (whom I adored) and have been in that arena; for the most part, I find it unnecessarily divisive, uncivil, and attracts mean-spirited people – some of whom are woefully under-qualified.  So, there’s nothing funny in that.  And my wife, who is none of those things, is called to this service – so, I avoid it like the plague normally.

But, I just can’t after last night.  To get there, I also have to publicly admit that I love reality TV.  Almost all of it.  Seeing grown adults (well people over 18) act like raving lunatics is something that I just can’t tear my eyes away from.  I know, I know.  I’m sure this says something very deep about me, but let’s suffice it to say that I’m addicted to them.  That show, Intervention (a long-time favorite), should probably have an episode on me.  Anyway, I’ve confessed.

Last night’s debate was much better than any single episode of The Real Housewives (except for maybe the one where Atlanta’s Nene actually pulled the extensions out of Kim’s head), Flipping Out (that dude is crazy), or Celebrity Apprentice (save the Omarosa and Piers Morgan fights). 

Quick recap of the train wreck that is our GOP field (and mind you, I’m a life-long registered Republican):

·               Newt has pledged to build a colony on the moon.  And last night, he said that he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to statehood.  Now, don’t get me wrong, my kids love this idea (but the oldest is 7).  And even my daughter commented that it seemed silly to promise “moon hood” just to become the President.  Newt is a little looney, or lunie.  But, he’s not the only one.

·               Mitt has secret Swiss bank accounts that he discovered last week when asked.  I believe him and understand the blind trust, blah, blah.  But, he talks about it like everyone has this problem.  Most of us haven’t been to Switzerland let alone have enough money that we have to hire a secret dude to go invest it there.  I’m sure Mitt doesn’t, but I still look at the price of gas every day – need it or not.  And the kids and I cheer when it drops. Reminds me of when Sonja (New York Housewife) was crying poor and then had a $30,000 costume party.

·               Then Rick Santorum – who was pretty boring for reality TV purposes almost all night – did not let me down in the end.  He laughed at Gingrich’s and Romney’s falling for the hoax that is global warming.  Not you too, Rick.  I was rooting for you; love your wife and 7 kids; my heart breaks for little Gabriel and your daughter; loved your tribute to your wife and your mother; thought it kicked butt when you told Newt and Mitt to grow up; even like that you’re genuinely conservative.  Then, you had to say global warming is a hoax.  Bam!  I’m no scientist (and know Rick isn’t either), and unlike Rick, I don’t pretend to play one on TV.  That said, having lived in Phoenix for a decade, I can tell you something is going on.  Now living in the Midwest where it has still not snowed, have to say that I’m going to listen to the scientists and all their crazy talk.

The only person that appeared somewhat normal last night was Ron Paul.  I can’t believe that I just wrote that.  He was funny, sharp, challenged the others to a run (and I know he could kick their butts – no question), and he was coherent. 

Crazy, right?  When the other people sound so crazy that they make Ron Paul look good.  Kind of like when Danielle on Real Housewives of New Jersey (who is a complete psycho but I’m putting it parens to downplay because I think she’s also connected to the mob and dangerous) seemed normal compared to Teresa (flip a table) G.  Or like when Jeff of Flipping Out looks reasonable when Jenny (his generally rational assistant) takes a crazy pill.  Or when Kelly (that super crazy old model from New York Housewives) appears sane when Ramona and Jill freak out.  It’s all nuts, but worth the price of admission.

The sad part is that this reality TV show will affect us.  So, does this mean that I’ll vote for Ron Paul.  Are you crazy?  Just because he seemed normal last night doesn’t mean he is.  Do you really think Danielle, Jeff, or Kelly are really sane?  No, definitely not.  Does it mean that I’m going to vote for President Obama?  Not necessarily. 

All it means is that I view this election like one of my other favorite reality shows – Survivor.  Everyone is going to do whatever they can – underhanded, over the top, over promise, under deliver, make alliances that they break, and do things that they end up regretting – to win.  Sad, but true.  Then, on election night, when the votes are tallied – I’ll have a lukewarm reaction to whoever wins.  Just like I do on Survivor.  I just hope that the winner’s Presidency doesn’t become too much like my favorite shows.

No Bread for Henry, or Me

by Troy Foster

Bread – as in body of Christ, that is.  Don’t worry, I’m not going too deep here.  Just a self-realization that I came to a few weeks ago.

As a family, we attend church each Sunday.  While each of us has our own dilemmas with faith, from time to time, we’re no different than anyone else in that respect.  And we enjoy going to service, and our church community.  The kids have great friendships there, are learning about tenants of our religion, and are in a place where they can ask us questions and begin to form the foundation of their personal relationship with God.

But, there is one thing that I do not enjoy.  And that’s communion.  It used to be my favorite part of the service, and I really looked forward to it each week.  Before attending our current church, I was a faithful Roman Catholic – so, I worked hard to be able to receive communion.  Communion was a spiritual experience, a time that I felt truly closer to God.  At peace and happy.

Communion is a little different for me now.  And, it’s completely my fault.  Though communion is an open table at our church, I remain planted in the pew.  Others seem to be experiencing what I once enjoyed so much.  I just sit and watch.  Watch, as if in protest.

You see, Henry’s mitochondrial disease and eosinophilic disorders prevent him from taking communion.  He is allergic to the bread and the juice.  Yet another thing that Henry is excluded from.  Something else to be different about.  And, it would seem that communion, of all things, should be something that the little guy should be able to partake in – if things were fair.

But they aren’t.  And mind you, Henry does not care.  He barely knows what communion is.  And, I don’t think that my “protest” is some misdirected anger at God.  I know that there is no spiritual soup Nazi that is doing this to Henry.  I think that I stay seated because I want to publicly (though silently) cry out for Henry; as I join his team in not eating the bread, I am one less person that makes him different.  It’s definitely not a choice between Henry and God.  In fact, I have felt closer to God since Henry was diagnosed than I had in years.

And in keeping my seat, I don’t forget what the time is about.  I’m very mindful that it is the time that we thank God for his sacrifice, and I do thank him for it – just without the bread and juice.  But also during communion, I’m saying a prayer for my little Henry.  Hoping that God will find his own special way for Henry to give the same thanks.  I’m sure that he will.  Because even though life, and the world, aren’t always fair.  God is.

Though I know my protest is a meaningless symbol of my love for Henry, I won’t judge myself for being a little childish in dealing with my feelings on this.  I know, with every fiber in my being, that God understands.

Just Say Something

by Troy Foster

In a nutshell, that’s my advice to any of you that have a loved one (friend or family member) that is hurting.  It sounds like common sense, but you would be surprised.  Along with my experiences, two friends going through their own junk drove this point home this week.

Think about it.  None of us want to see someone that we care about enduring pain – physical or emotional.  Most of us want to make it better.  And know that we can’t.  Most people want to say something, but are petrified that they will say the wrong thing.  That their words will be inadequate, taken the wrong way, or seem cliché or trivial.  And some people (more than you might think) feel so uncomfortable with the depth of the issue, they avoid you altogether.  Until you are all better.  They’ll self-justify.  You are strong.  You’ll make it just fine; he/she doesn’t need my help and they don’t need a distraction.

From our own experience, I can relate that it is all misguided.  When we found out that Henry had mitochondrial disease and learned that it was degenerative, the silence was deafening.  Friends that we had known for years – some that we hung out with regularly – had no reaction.  Said absolutely nothing. 

And some, many fewer, but quite a few were no longer in our lives.  It was gradual.  No more invites out from couples.  No more play dates with the kids’ friends.  No more phone calls from some friends that would call regularly.  We had made concerted efforts not to talk about Henry, his condition, or our feelings in social settings – so, I knew it wasn’t that we were bringing down the party spirits.  Now, I’m not that fun in the first place – so maybe it was coincidentally when that was discovered.  But in all seriousness, even though we didn’t say anything, some people were reminded of this uncomfortable subject by our presence.  I’ve since read about this, and how it happens subconsciously with many folks.  And, I get it.

But, it’s still lonely.  When we found out that our older son had the same disease as Henry, our reach of friends was substantially less.  Safe to say that many “close” friends three years ago may not even know about Luke’s diagnosis.  For the avoiders, our friendship probably wasn’t a good match.  And, we have been brought into circles of different folks that aren’t afraid that our sons are sick.

For those that don’t avoid, there is hope.  Say something.  Anything to your friend or loved one that is hurting.  Your fears that it will be inadequate and won’t make things better are probably right on some level.  Your words will not, in all likelihood, erode the pain.  But, the very fact that you said anything – however inartful – means so much.  It says that you are thinking of them.  You are on their team.  They have someone there – no matter what happens.  It can mean all the difference in the world.

I’ll end with a quick example that happened this week.  In the ups and downs that we all have, this week I’ve been a little down.  Worried about little Henry.  Concerned about what will happen.  Wondering if I’m doing enough – for him and the rest of the family.  It’s all natural, and I’m not beating myself up for having those feelings.  Sucks, but it is what it is.  I don’t talk about it much (outside of my therapist – who makes every dime I pay her).  But a friend said to me, completely unsolicited, “you are a good dad.”  The same friend will randomly ask me how I am, or tell me that he admires my strength.  And another friend, who is less comfortable saying things so directly, tell me the most random stupid stories when I’m down.  I know what he’s doing.

Saying something means so much.  Don’t worry about what you’re saying or how effective you think it will be.  Just say something.  It will mean so much.

I Love My Honey Badgers!

By Troy Foster

Someone recently told me that I'd been living under a rock because I had not seen the hilariously-narrated Honey Badger video.  Ironically enough, it was a friend in Paris that called me out on it.  Even he had seen it.  (As an aside, I'm hopeful that there are some of you reading this that have no idea what I'm talking about and you should really check it out – as 32 million other people before I did this morning.  Link is The Crazy Honey Badger (original narration by Randall).

After watching this video, it is safe to say that I absolutely love the Honey Badger.  It may be one of my favorite animals.  Don't get me wrong, I'm afraid of them and don't want to see one up close, but am a big fan for one simple reason – it doesn't let anything take it down.  The bees sting it, but it just swats them away to get to its meal.  The snakes climb the trees to get away from it, but it runs right up after it.  And – even when it's bitten by a poisonous snake, he just takes a little nap and gets up like nothing happened and continues to munch on the snake.  Honey Badgers are determined, focused, courageous, brave (ok a little crazy), and unimpeded in their efforts to get what they want.  What is theirs.

Then, I realized that I know at least three Honey Badgers.  Our little Henry is certainly a Honey Badger.  He doesn't eat snakes (and, as you know, he really doesn't eat much).  But, in the face of adversity, he kicks butt first and doesn't worry about taking names.  He's been that way his whole life – all four years of it.  When he couldn't walk, he got around by scooting on his butt – pushing his I.V. pole around wherever he needed to.  When he needed to assert himself, he didn't mind using that apparatus as his tool.  When his speech became harder to understand, he turned it into a game of charades and showed us what he meant.  When he started to need regular breathing treatments, he turned it into special fun time with his older brother and sister (who assist him as his nurses and doctors).  When he couldn't eat real food, he made the best of his few safe foods and made experiments with the other foods (these remain some of the best pieces of art work that I have seen). When his vision deteriorated, he wasn't worried about not seeing – he made a project out of picking "cool" glasses.  When he is tired, and as he grows more and more tired, he fights like the dickens to stay awake – and makes very efficient use of his playtime when he is up.  He just keeps on fighting – my little Honey Badger.  

My wife is also a Honey Badger.  Thankfully, not with me.  But, given what she deals with - masterfully, I might add – she has pushed on in so many other aspects.  She's grown her law firm.  She's running for office.  And she is such an involved mom to all four of our kids.  Never, and I mean never, does she say no when they want to read a book, sit and talk, or just hang out.  Even when it may be a little manipulative way for the kids to just stay up, it's time with them and that's what matters.  Kristen fights every day to make our family better – in big ways – but also the very little ways that generally go unnoticed.  And, like the Honey Badger, she never forgets her mission – one being to laugh and make those around her do the same thing!

 

Wow, two Honey Badgers under one roof!  I'm lucky.  But what makes them different than the Honey Badger is that they are always smiling, always seeing the bright side, and always looking for the good.

The third Honey Badger that I'm proud to call my friend is from my hometown, and we went to high school together.  Tara continues her battle with aggressive brain cancer.  I don't know how many times she's been told that the cancer might win, but too many.  And what does Tara do – she fights.  She has taken the traditional treatments and done others.  Her tumors have shrunk and the doctors don't believe it.  I do, and if you knew Tara, you would too.  Because, quite simply, she's a Honey Badger.

For me, it's not whether the Honey Badger beats every animal it encounters.  Don't misunderstand – it usually does and I love when it kicks butt.  Some vicious animal could come take the Honey Badger and win the fight.  That is the reality.  But, almost as important, is the fight and the spirit the the Honey Badger had with each and every fight.  Each and every day.  I see my Honey Badgers fighting like that – ferociously and steadfastly – each day.  So, they are winners.  And for those of us lucky enough to be around them, we are all winners.

Go hug your Honey Badger today and maybe become one!  Please pray for mine!

To read more about Henry and this remarkable and inspiring little boy, please check out the book written about him.  Three Candles is now available.  You can purchase via http://bit.ly/ApAs3j or if you want an autographed copy (Henry loves this), email Henry's Hope at lenochs@fosterslawgroup.com.  

Friday is Henry’s Special Day

By Troy Foster

TGIF is universally welcomed with open arms.  It marks the end of the work week, the start of the weekend, and a welcome break.  For Henry (and me), it has an extra special meaning.  We call it Friday “Try Day.”

As most of you know, Henry can eat very few foods.  Black beans, bananas, and grapes.  Not a lot of variety.  Only is the last couple of months has Henry minded this significant limitation. He sees his brothers and sister, classmates, and everyone else eating.  And he just wants to be a kid.

So though he is allergic to the rest of it, on Fridays we let Henry try whatever he wants.  Don’t worry.  His allergies don’t cause immediate and severe reactions.  It wears his gastrointestinal organs out in the long run.  But that’s not our concern.  We wish we had it.

He just wants to be a kid.  Today, we went to Chuck E. Cheese.  Funny enough, their motto is “where kids can just be kids.”  And we had a blast.  Most of it – most all of it – didn’t involve food.  You see, Henry says that he wants to eat.  But truth be told, he just wants to be in the thick of it.  He wants a seat at the table.  He wants to dance with fun characters like Chuck E. Cheese.

In a world about food, it’s not all about food to Henry.  He danced with the giant stuffed animal (creepy).  He played a bunch of games.  He got his picture taken and got to drive a racecar.  He got a bunch of tickets from the games (you know the ones that really require you to spend money for the “prizes”).

There was food there – don’t get me wrong.  Henry had me order a large pepperoni pizza because he was hungry, and he figured his 2-year old brother, Eli, was too.  I got him a Sprite too.  When we got to the table, Henry passed out the paper plates and napkins.  He grabbed the parmesan in anticipation for the big event.  When the pizza came, he picked out his piece and blew on it with great excitement.  He served both of us too. 

And, he took exactly two bites of pizza.  He didn’t touch his soda.  “I love it, Daddy.  But, I’m full.”  It’s not about the food.  It’s about being a kid.  By the smile on his face, I knew this adventure day was a success.  Perfect Friday Try Day.  Henry made it very clear to me as he grabbed my face, looked me in the eyes, and told me “This is the very best Try Day ever.  I love you so much.”

Well worth it.  For both of us!

For more great and inspirational stories about Henry, check out the book inspired by and about him.  Three Candles is on sale now.  www.threecandlesbook.com.  Part of the proceeds benefit Henry's Hope www.henryshope.org.