We were so glad that our relatives from Milwaukee were able to join us for dad’s big celebration. Ron Barbian was my mom’s cousin- but they were almost the same age, so we’ve always thought of him as Uncle Ron. My mom adored Ron – he was a spectacularly gifted athlete (baseball especially) who was also a wonderful, fun, gentle guy who was so devoted to his mom (my Aunt Marvel) and to his whole family. He and his wife Mary Ellen have two fine sons- Ron and Greg- who have been so fun to know over the years, and we are starting to realize only now that we need to be together a whole lot more than we have been.
One tender story that has played out in the Barbian family concerns the younger son of Greg and his wife Debbie- a great young man named Russell who was born with cerebral palsy. It has not been an easy road but they have really travelled it with courage and grace – encircled by the love and support of the other Barbians. Russell is lavishly loved- and he knows it- and he also loves in return with the kind of love and joy that warms every room he enters.
Greg and I share the same name, and when we were little we shared a love for super heroes (we both wore Batman costumes as youngsters) . . . but now I realize that real heroes tend not to wear capes and utility belts. Greg is so good with Russell- so gentle- and also so strong. I was reminded of that at one point at the condo when Greg had to pick Russell up out of his walker and carry him to dad’s recliner. You could just feel the amazing strength of Greg’s body as he carefully bore his 20-year-old son across the room and then deposited him ever so gently into the awaiting chair. And in the moment caught in the photo above, Greg walked Russell out of dad’s reception with such patience and loving care. But beyond those moments of conveyance, I also love seeing how Greg- and Debbie- and all of the Barbians- manage to bring such joy into Russell’s life, joking with him and making him feel like a treasured part of their lives. . . because, of course, he is!
In stark contrast. . . today on Good Morning America, they played the audio of a frantic 9-1-1 cell phone call placed by a young boy (maybe 8 or 9 years old) who was riding in a speeding car driven by his inebriated mother. My heart broke in two as he said “Please help me. My mother is driving really fast and I’m really scared. . . “ When the operator asks him to say where they are, he says “We’re going so fast- I can’t read the signs” with this plaintive fear in his voice. At one point the mother grabs the cell phone and angrily hangs up, but the youngster calls back again, and eventually the call is traced and the car is stopped before anyone is hurt. The mother has been arrested on various charges – but I keep thinking about that little boy and wonder how it would feel to be so terribly betrayed by someone who is supposed to be caring for you. I am probably one of thousands if not millions of people across the country who feel like transforming the guest bedroom upstairs into a boy’s bedroom and giving that youngster a fresh start in a home where he would be loved. And it makes me grateful that I grew up in a home where I was always cared for. . . and am so grateful that my buddy Russell has been cherished by his mom Debbie and by his dad Greg, my favorite strong man.