One of my goals for the year is to cut my spending so we can (a) pay down debt, (b) put more into savings, and (c) have money to put toward other goals, like home improvement and vacations. I'm only 18 days into it, but already I am feeling on top of this one.
It might be considered a sad testament to your lack of money management skills when avoiding Target fun trips for 18 whole days is an achievement. But I'm going to let myself off the hook for my past inability to pay my way out of a paper bag and take the progress as it comes.
I've hit one milestone already, which was to add to the amount we have in savings. We try to pad that account to a certain dollar amount before transferring some off the top to pay down debt. Through our bank accounts we have Keep the Change, which automatically rounds up the dollar amounts we spend each day on debit, and takes the difference between what we spent and the next dollar up and transfers it directly from checking into savings. It's simple and mindless, but it's moving money over into savings almost every day.
Granted, spending less money during the month means less debits, which means smaller monthly transfer amounts. But that's ok, because in addition to using the Keep the Change program, we also have auto transfers twice per month from checking to savings, which means more money moving into savings without me having to think about it at all.
That's key for me: not having to think about it at all. The easiest way for me to save is to pretend the money was never there in the first place, and other than emergencies and paying down debt, we largely ignore our savings account. I know a lot of financial experts would roll their eyes at that mentality, but the bare facts are that we don't have a lot of disposable income, and if I know it's there I won't hesitate to spend it without even thinking. By letting the bank do all the work to transfer the money for me into an account I pretty much ignore, I can pretend the money isn't there and I don't feel tempted to spend money on silly things when it would be better to save.
The other big part of this goal, for me at least, is not spending as much money. I've successfully avoided pitfalls like Target (can I confess how much it KILLS me not to check the Target clearance right now, knowing full well it's packed with good deals?!?!) and packed my lunch almost every day this month. Our grocery bill is going up a bit for sure, but on the flip side I am eating healthier foods and feeling better. Even when we do go out to eat, like we did tonight right before hitting to grocery store to stock our empty shelves and fridge, I am trying to choose a healthy salad over a bread bowl full of brocolli & cheddar soup. It's not easy, but it IS possible, and it will be worth it in the end.
"They" say it takes 3 weeks to create a new habit. If it's true, we're well on our way!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
93
My grandma's family was poor, but back then pretty much everyone was. Born in 1918, she was a triplet but the third of the three was stillborn. In addition to her twin, James, she had a half brother named Walter and two sisters named Amy and Vivian. They lived modestly with each girl owning just one dress. Grandma was raised to believe she was the Sensible One. In those days, a girl's worth in her family was often boiled down to one adjective, and so it was with my Great Grandmother and Great Grandfather, whose 3 daughters were: Smart, Sensible, and Pretty. If her so-called-Smart-One sister's dress was dirty, one of the other girls would forfeit her schooling for the week so the Smart One could borrow her clean dress. Laundry was done by hand only once a week, because more than that would use too much water.
During the Depression, her father was struggling like many others. One day, he came home from trying to find work in a new car, packed the family, and told them they were moving to California. The car, near as any of us can guess, was driven straight off the lot and to their home without actually being purchased.
She says she married my Grandfather because she was 'getting up there in years' and she 'didn't have many options left and no one was knocking on the door'. I say he got lucky. I also don't see her how she sees herself: plain, short, bland, and sensible. I saw her as beautiful with hips that carried strong babies and eyes that saw pain and suffering less often than they saw love and beauty. I saw her hands, which now showcase paper-thin skin, as strong and capable but also as soft and kind as she rubbed my back for hours on end. She wasn't One anything: she was everything.
This weekend, my mom drove me and the kids to L.A. in a just-under-48-hour whirlwind to celebrate my Grandma's 93rd birthday. My mom often laments her mother's memory loss and refusal to wear her hearing aids and stubborness, but I don't see those things. In my eyes, my grandma is a strong, loving matriarch to our family. She is funny, remembers things that most 93 year olds would have long ago forgotten, and loves her family with a fierceness. It was a tiring trip with hours of boring, dark roads and two different hotel rooms where each of us shared a bed with a kid and didn't get much quality sleep. I ate like crap because I had no other options. But it was worth every second of coordinating and driving and in-transit kid entertaining. It was worth it to celebrate her, and to give my kids the opportunity to spend time with her.
Luca with her Grandma. Someday, I will be listening to her wax poetic about how amazing her Grandma is.
Rohan is a bit wary of my Grandma, but Luca loves giving her hugs.
During the Depression, her father was struggling like many others. One day, he came home from trying to find work in a new car, packed the family, and told them they were moving to California. The car, near as any of us can guess, was driven straight off the lot and to their home without actually being purchased.
She says she married my Grandfather because she was 'getting up there in years' and she 'didn't have many options left and no one was knocking on the door'. I say he got lucky. I also don't see her how she sees herself: plain, short, bland, and sensible. I saw her as beautiful with hips that carried strong babies and eyes that saw pain and suffering less often than they saw love and beauty. I saw her hands, which now showcase paper-thin skin, as strong and capable but also as soft and kind as she rubbed my back for hours on end. She wasn't One anything: she was everything.
This weekend, my mom drove me and the kids to L.A. in a just-under-48-hour whirlwind to celebrate my Grandma's 93rd birthday. My mom often laments her mother's memory loss and refusal to wear her hearing aids and stubborness, but I don't see those things. In my eyes, my grandma is a strong, loving matriarch to our family. She is funny, remembers things that most 93 year olds would have long ago forgotten, and loves her family with a fierceness. It was a tiring trip with hours of boring, dark roads and two different hotel rooms where each of us shared a bed with a kid and didn't get much quality sleep. I ate like crap because I had no other options. But it was worth every second of coordinating and driving and in-transit kid entertaining. It was worth it to celebrate her, and to give my kids the opportunity to spend time with her.
Luca showing Baby Rainbow Love something out the hotel window.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
One Week.
I realized this week that what happened a week ago in Tucson hit me viscerally, perhaps more intensely than seems fitting. I could say it's because I have the tiniest connection to one of the victims, because I do but it was fleeting and I don't think that's the core of why I was hit so hard.
Before Christmas, one street away from us, an 8 month old girl was shaken to death by her dad.
Almost 2 weeks ago, a gunman caused the mall less than 2 miles from my house to be put on lock-down, held hostages in a fast food restaurant, and the surrendered to the dozens of police, FBI, and SWAT Team members who had infiltrated the neighborhood.
And then, there was last week. And this whole week all the media in Arizona is covering is the story. They're covering the details of the gunman's life. The run-down of the day's events. The tragedies and lives lost. And the heroes who stepped up.
I've been sad and mad and just generally somber. And then I opened today's paper, and saw this article, and I was so touched I wanted to share it. I hope next week I can somewhat return to 'normal' and post about things other than this. And in that spirit, I am marking a week's passage by sharing:
Simple bells lift heavy hearts amid tragedy in Tucson
The Arizona Republic
Outside the Safeway scene of so much sorrow, the people of Tucson left us a message on Thursday.
Hundreds of handmade bells, hanging from the paloverde trees and in the bushes and on the shopping-cart racks in the parking lot.
As cleaners in blue jumpsuits with green rubber gloves worked to scrub away the physical traces of last Saturday's tragedy, citizens offered a response to the mental anguish, wounds not so easily washed away.
They hung bells.
It's a tradition of sorts in Tucson. Twice a year, the wind chimes randomly appear around town, dangling from trees and tied onto fences. Ben's Bells, they are called, for a little boy named Ben who died suddenly in his mother's arms on Good Friday 2002. He was 2 years old.
The darkness and the pain that followed . . . well, there aren't any words for what a parent goes through at a time such as that. The healing, for Jeannette Maré and her husband, Dean Packard, began with kindness. Simple acts like a stranger opening a door or lending a shoulder.
"We were walking around looking like ordinary people on the outside when we were just dying on the inside, and anytime anybody would do an act of kindness for us - the smallest little show of connection like eye contact or a smile or being let into traffic or anything - was just kind of miraculously healing," Maré says. "I literally felt like I needed to die, and then somebody would do an act like that and I knew in that moment, at least in that moment, that I could survive."
Maré began making the wind chimes in her backyard pottery studio after Ben's death, fashioning beads and clay ornaments, painting them and lashing them to little brass bells. It was something those who grieved for Ben could do, something that would both honor his memory and help others suffering in ways unseen.
They hung 400 bells around Tucson on the first anniversary of Ben's death, attaching a tag to each one. "Take it home," it says, "hang it and remember to spread kindness."
Since then, the bells have been hung twice a year in Tucson, and in places where tragedy has struck - in New York on the anniversary of 9/11, in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and in Hermosillo, after a day-care fire killed 44 children. Now, tragedy has struck at home.
All week long, Tucson residents have flocked to the pottery studio on University Boulevard, the one where Ben's Bells are made. It's open year-round to anyone who wants to come and paint and be a part of spreading one simple yet profound message: Be kind.
At dawn Thursday, hundreds spread out across Tucson, hanging the bells - 1,406 of them, all Maré had. They hung them in parks and at schools, on street signs and in desert washes, at University Medical Center and at the Safeway.
"We hang this bell in memory of those who died, to honor all of those who were injured and for all of us who live in and love this community," says the tag, which also carries the message to take the bell home.
All over Tucson, the stories started pouring in from those who found Ben's Bells on Thursday. From a teacher who found one outside her school, from a mourner who spotted one outside a church. From Bernadette, who saw a bell and burst into tears, and from Janet, who came upon one along the Rillito River Park. "The discovery shined a light through the sorrow and defeat which has been surrounding me," she wrote. "Much of that negative energy has floated away today. What a blessing."
There is power in the message sounded by the bells - that it is intentional kindness and small connections, not grand gestures, that build communities and sustain them in times such as these. Something as simple as leaving a bell or finding one can lift a heavy heart and for the moment, in Tucson, that is a start. Maré says her city will never get over what happened here and that, she says, is a good thing.
"It changes you. It becomes part of the fabric of who you are as an individual and the culture of your community. So I hope we don't get over it. I hope that this changes us forever."
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85WyiWl
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85RXYr1
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85Kr8qX
http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html
Before Christmas, one street away from us, an 8 month old girl was shaken to death by her dad.
Almost 2 weeks ago, a gunman caused the mall less than 2 miles from my house to be put on lock-down, held hostages in a fast food restaurant, and the surrendered to the dozens of police, FBI, and SWAT Team members who had infiltrated the neighborhood.
And then, there was last week. And this whole week all the media in Arizona is covering is the story. They're covering the details of the gunman's life. The run-down of the day's events. The tragedies and lives lost. And the heroes who stepped up.
I've been sad and mad and just generally somber. And then I opened today's paper, and saw this article, and I was so touched I wanted to share it. I hope next week I can somewhat return to 'normal' and post about things other than this. And in that spirit, I am marking a week's passage by sharing:
Simple bells lift heavy hearts amid tragedy in Tucson
The Arizona Republic
Outside the Safeway scene of so much sorrow, the people of Tucson left us a message on Thursday.
Hundreds of handmade bells, hanging from the paloverde trees and in the bushes and on the shopping-cart racks in the parking lot.
As cleaners in blue jumpsuits with green rubber gloves worked to scrub away the physical traces of last Saturday's tragedy, citizens offered a response to the mental anguish, wounds not so easily washed away.
They hung bells.
It's a tradition of sorts in Tucson. Twice a year, the wind chimes randomly appear around town, dangling from trees and tied onto fences. Ben's Bells, they are called, for a little boy named Ben who died suddenly in his mother's arms on Good Friday 2002. He was 2 years old.
The darkness and the pain that followed . . . well, there aren't any words for what a parent goes through at a time such as that. The healing, for Jeannette Maré and her husband, Dean Packard, began with kindness. Simple acts like a stranger opening a door or lending a shoulder.
"We were walking around looking like ordinary people on the outside when we were just dying on the inside, and anytime anybody would do an act of kindness for us - the smallest little show of connection like eye contact or a smile or being let into traffic or anything - was just kind of miraculously healing," Maré says. "I literally felt like I needed to die, and then somebody would do an act like that and I knew in that moment, at least in that moment, that I could survive."
Maré began making the wind chimes in her backyard pottery studio after Ben's death, fashioning beads and clay ornaments, painting them and lashing them to little brass bells. It was something those who grieved for Ben could do, something that would both honor his memory and help others suffering in ways unseen.
They hung 400 bells around Tucson on the first anniversary of Ben's death, attaching a tag to each one. "Take it home," it says, "hang it and remember to spread kindness."
Since then, the bells have been hung twice a year in Tucson, and in places where tragedy has struck - in New York on the anniversary of 9/11, in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and in Hermosillo, after a day-care fire killed 44 children. Now, tragedy has struck at home.
All week long, Tucson residents have flocked to the pottery studio on University Boulevard, the one where Ben's Bells are made. It's open year-round to anyone who wants to come and paint and be a part of spreading one simple yet profound message: Be kind.
At dawn Thursday, hundreds spread out across Tucson, hanging the bells - 1,406 of them, all Maré had. They hung them in parks and at schools, on street signs and in desert washes, at University Medical Center and at the Safeway.
"We hang this bell in memory of those who died, to honor all of those who were injured and for all of us who live in and love this community," says the tag, which also carries the message to take the bell home.
All over Tucson, the stories started pouring in from those who found Ben's Bells on Thursday. From a teacher who found one outside her school, from a mourner who spotted one outside a church. From Bernadette, who saw a bell and burst into tears, and from Janet, who came upon one along the Rillito River Park. "The discovery shined a light through the sorrow and defeat which has been surrounding me," she wrote. "Much of that negative energy has floated away today. What a blessing."
There is power in the message sounded by the bells - that it is intentional kindness and small connections, not grand gestures, that build communities and sustain them in times such as these. Something as simple as leaving a bell or finding one can lift a heavy heart and for the moment, in Tucson, that is a start. Maré says her city will never get over what happened here and that, she says, is a good thing.
"It changes you. It becomes part of the fabric of who you are as an individual and the culture of your community. So I hope we don't get over it. I hope that this changes us forever."
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85WyiWl
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85RXYr1
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html#ixzz1B85Kr8qX
http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/2011/01/15/20110115roberts0115.html
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Words are Failing.
This week has been a somber one. I've cried while watching the news, listening to the radio, and reading the many stories and tributes. My heart is so heavy when considering the lives cut short. Not only those of 9 year old Christina and 30 year old Gabe, but also those of the victims who should have been enjoying the warm afternoon sunshine of life. I think of the pain of those families and friends who lost loved ones. I think of the horror felt by the witnesses and the survivors and I hope with all my heart that those who we lost did not have time to know what was happening and died in peace, in the arms of others.
And, oh! The others. Thinking of the bravery of a loving husband who took the fatal shot meant for his wife, the intern whose quick thinking kept the Congresswoman alive, the men and woman who took down the gunman and knocked away his weapon....my heaviness is gone and I am done. Just done. I turn into a mess, with a lump in my throat and hot tears burning my eyes. I sit in admiration and awe, hoping that in their shoes I could do the same, and wishing we never had to learn the worth of their bravery.
Somber and hopeful. I will watch tonight as those Arizonans (and Americans) lost are remembered with tearful goodbyes. I will watch dignitaries and common people speak about bravery and fear and heroes. I will find the hope in the heaviness.
I will sit in silence and honor those we lost and those who saved and were saved.
And, oh! The others. Thinking of the bravery of a loving husband who took the fatal shot meant for his wife, the intern whose quick thinking kept the Congresswoman alive, the men and woman who took down the gunman and knocked away his weapon....my heaviness is gone and I am done. Just done. I turn into a mess, with a lump in my throat and hot tears burning my eyes. I sit in admiration and awe, hoping that in their shoes I could do the same, and wishing we never had to learn the worth of their bravery.
Somber and hopeful. I will watch tonight as those Arizonans (and Americans) lost are remembered with tearful goodbyes. I will watch dignitaries and common people speak about bravery and fear and heroes. I will find the hope in the heaviness.
I will sit in silence and honor those we lost and those who saved and were saved.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Full.
Oranges. Pears. Bananas. More oranges.
This has been my diet, and while it feels a bit like torture not to be able to slather bread in peanut butter or eat a hunk of extra sharp cheddar cheese while cooking dinner, it also feels really, really good.
I almost forgot how much I enjoy healthy, fresh foods. And as an extension of enjoying the healthy foods I've been eating, I find myself drinking less diet soda and hot chocolate and going for long walks after dinner. We tuck the kids into their red wagon and give them a soft white blanket to snuggle, and away we go down dark neighborhood streets breathing in the crisp air of Arizona's January nights. I'm pulling something around 80 pounds when I pull them around, and yet it feels good to have a little burn in my steps. I'm thinking of the grilled boneless skinless chicken breasts and grilled eggplant I had for dinner and feeling satisfied. Satisfied, even though I didn't finish the pile of fluffy mashed potatoes I'd allowed myself as an indulgence. Satisfied, perhaps because I didn't wish for more when my plate was empty, save for that lonely lump of potato goodness.
I replenish with water and an orange, sweet and juicy and cold from the night air, having been picked as we made our way across our front yard and into the warm house. I am on, and when I'm on like this I am also on top of the world. I feel strong and healthy and solidly grounded in health.
And lighter, by 4 pounds. Which is but a tiny sliver of all I want to be rid of, but a victory no less. My husband asked me tonight what made me get back on track and where I got my focus. I've been here before, and slid down the hill of store bought frosting and into a puddle of whole milk turned mocha with pure Hershey's syrup. I've been here and caved or made excuses or decided that as long as my kids and my husband love me, then who cares.
Who cares? Namely: Me. It might have been slipping back into real work clothes after a little more than 2 weeks of days off and Christmas treats and jammies that stay on all day and into the night. It could have been the desire to possibly have another kid someday without propelling myself to a weight I can't even bear to imagine. Possibly it had something to do with the stack of pictures I printed for Luca's school, chief among which were many of my smiling mug and my many-pounds-smaller body. I have felt heavy in body and soul over the past year or two, and yet the fact that I lead a pretty amazing and full life has kept me where I am. But where I am, within my own self, is a place I don't like.
And so a week into it, I celebrate success with a healthy grilled meal, a small splurge in the form of mashed potatoes and 1/2 a cup of ice cream I shared with an eager little boy. I sat on the floor with my treat, served in an Ikea kids' bowl to make the small scoop look more filling, and he came over with his bear and his blankie clutched tightly to him. If you see him now, you no doubt will see him with these two friends who he greedily holds all day and night. Moving my hand aside, he plopped his heavy warm body into mine and said, "Lap!" and then, pointing to the spoon, smiled that golden smile of his and said, "Tare pease." His 's' is a 't' right now ("Mama ting!" to get a bedtime song from me or "Torry!" when he owes an apology), and it makes my heart skip and I spoon moutfuls of sweet mocha almond fudge to him until, several spoonfuls into it, he stands and says, "All done."
They provide me this lesson every day, and perhaps the greatest gift I have given my body is observing how they eat and taking note. They eat when hungry. They relish the things they love. They have fun. They laugh and giggle through dinner, and then they cross the invisible threshold to satisfied and they push away from the table (or stand up from where they sat in a lap) and say, "All done." They always make suer they stop while they are still enjoying themselves. And so can I.
And I did. And I will continue to, until I am as happy with what I see in pictures as I am with what I feel on the inside. I have made a choice to love and value myself and to do that which makes me feel good. It might mean I am not perfect, and I sneak a small scoop of M&Ms when the mid-afternoon work slump hits. But I am ok with that. I am committed, for both myself and those I love, to making this life a healthy one, and for once I have opened my mind up to this truth: It feels good.
This has been my diet, and while it feels a bit like torture not to be able to slather bread in peanut butter or eat a hunk of extra sharp cheddar cheese while cooking dinner, it also feels really, really good.
I almost forgot how much I enjoy healthy, fresh foods. And as an extension of enjoying the healthy foods I've been eating, I find myself drinking less diet soda and hot chocolate and going for long walks after dinner. We tuck the kids into their red wagon and give them a soft white blanket to snuggle, and away we go down dark neighborhood streets breathing in the crisp air of Arizona's January nights. I'm pulling something around 80 pounds when I pull them around, and yet it feels good to have a little burn in my steps. I'm thinking of the grilled boneless skinless chicken breasts and grilled eggplant I had for dinner and feeling satisfied. Satisfied, even though I didn't finish the pile of fluffy mashed potatoes I'd allowed myself as an indulgence. Satisfied, perhaps because I didn't wish for more when my plate was empty, save for that lonely lump of potato goodness.
I replenish with water and an orange, sweet and juicy and cold from the night air, having been picked as we made our way across our front yard and into the warm house. I am on, and when I'm on like this I am also on top of the world. I feel strong and healthy and solidly grounded in health.
And lighter, by 4 pounds. Which is but a tiny sliver of all I want to be rid of, but a victory no less. My husband asked me tonight what made me get back on track and where I got my focus. I've been here before, and slid down the hill of store bought frosting and into a puddle of whole milk turned mocha with pure Hershey's syrup. I've been here and caved or made excuses or decided that as long as my kids and my husband love me, then who cares.
Who cares? Namely: Me. It might have been slipping back into real work clothes after a little more than 2 weeks of days off and Christmas treats and jammies that stay on all day and into the night. It could have been the desire to possibly have another kid someday without propelling myself to a weight I can't even bear to imagine. Possibly it had something to do with the stack of pictures I printed for Luca's school, chief among which were many of my smiling mug and my many-pounds-smaller body. I have felt heavy in body and soul over the past year or two, and yet the fact that I lead a pretty amazing and full life has kept me where I am. But where I am, within my own self, is a place I don't like.
And so a week into it, I celebrate success with a healthy grilled meal, a small splurge in the form of mashed potatoes and 1/2 a cup of ice cream I shared with an eager little boy. I sat on the floor with my treat, served in an Ikea kids' bowl to make the small scoop look more filling, and he came over with his bear and his blankie clutched tightly to him. If you see him now, you no doubt will see him with these two friends who he greedily holds all day and night. Moving my hand aside, he plopped his heavy warm body into mine and said, "Lap!" and then, pointing to the spoon, smiled that golden smile of his and said, "Tare pease." His 's' is a 't' right now ("Mama ting!" to get a bedtime song from me or "Torry!" when he owes an apology), and it makes my heart skip and I spoon moutfuls of sweet mocha almond fudge to him until, several spoonfuls into it, he stands and says, "All done."
They provide me this lesson every day, and perhaps the greatest gift I have given my body is observing how they eat and taking note. They eat when hungry. They relish the things they love. They have fun. They laugh and giggle through dinner, and then they cross the invisible threshold to satisfied and they push away from the table (or stand up from where they sat in a lap) and say, "All done." They always make suer they stop while they are still enjoying themselves. And so can I.
And I did. And I will continue to, until I am as happy with what I see in pictures as I am with what I feel on the inside. I have made a choice to love and value myself and to do that which makes me feel good. It might mean I am not perfect, and I sneak a small scoop of M&Ms when the mid-afternoon work slump hits. But I am ok with that. I am committed, for both myself and those I love, to making this life a healthy one, and for once I have opened my mind up to this truth: It feels good.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Moment of Silence.
From azcentral.com:
"Dr. Steve Rayle stood watching in disbelief. It had seemed like a stunt, like a prank, but soon there were so many bodies on the ground.
Patricia Maisch heard the first shot, then a pause, then a chain of gunfire, and knew she had a choice. Run and be a target, or drop to the ground and hope for the best.
Joseph Zamudio was inside a nearby store when he heard the shooting. He dropped his packages on the counter and rushed toward the door.
The Saturday morning had begun normally enough for everyone who had made his or her way to the Safeway store on the north edge of Tucson. Head to work. Walk the dogs. Or stop by a public event, where U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords would be standing outside the store talking to constituents.
In an instant, the morning changed.
Outside the store, a lone gunman approached Giffords, raised his arm and shot her in the back of the head.
He turned and fired again, then again, then again.
"Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam," Rayle said Sunday, recounting the attack. "There was no place to run."
The three strangers were thrust together into the chaos."*
There is a villain. There are victims, innocent and helpless against a man I have no doubt will be recognized as a monster. And then, like the bightest of spots in the darkest of hours, there are heroes. True and brave and authentic heroes who acted not out of a desire to be on CNN or be awarded a medal of honor or valor. Heroes who acted to save themselves and those around them, and who no doubt turned one of the most horrific days in Arizona's modern history into a day to remember this: Out of ordinary men and women, there are always heroes.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Christina Taylor Green, age 9
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-tucson-girl-killed.html
Dorwan Stoddard, age 76 (died physically covering his wife, Mavy to protect her)
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-tucson-man-saved-wife.html
Phyllis Schneck, age 79
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-retiree-killed.html
Honorable Judge John Roll, age 63
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109john-roll-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting.html
Gabe Zimmerman, age 30
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabe-zimmerman-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting.html
No photo available for Dorothy Morris, age 76
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-morris.html
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Daniel Hernandez, went to the side of Congresswoman Giffords after she was shot, and is credited with possibly saving her life. I have no word for how beautiful his actions were in the face of chaos.
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109daniel-hernandez-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-extra.html
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There are many more who will be recognized in the days and weeks to come. And no doubt countless others whose small acts of kindness and selflessness for others made a difference that day. The emergency responders, the medical staff and surgeons, the helicopter pilots. The police. The paramedics. The thousands of people across the nation sending love and healing and prayers to those injured and those who lost their lives.
And then there is Congresswoman Giffords, a woman who by all accounts is strong, kind, fair, and brave. A Congresswoman who took the time to meet the people she represents and truly cares.
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Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-morning.html#ixzz1AdxWzC1E
"Dr. Steve Rayle stood watching in disbelief. It had seemed like a stunt, like a prank, but soon there were so many bodies on the ground.
Patricia Maisch heard the first shot, then a pause, then a chain of gunfire, and knew she had a choice. Run and be a target, or drop to the ground and hope for the best.
Joseph Zamudio was inside a nearby store when he heard the shooting. He dropped his packages on the counter and rushed toward the door.
The Saturday morning had begun normally enough for everyone who had made his or her way to the Safeway store on the north edge of Tucson. Head to work. Walk the dogs. Or stop by a public event, where U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords would be standing outside the store talking to constituents.
In an instant, the morning changed.
Outside the store, a lone gunman approached Giffords, raised his arm and shot her in the back of the head.
He turned and fired again, then again, then again.
"Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam," Rayle said Sunday, recounting the attack. "There was no place to run."
The three strangers were thrust together into the chaos."*
There is a villain. There are victims, innocent and helpless against a man I have no doubt will be recognized as a monster. And then, like the bightest of spots in the darkest of hours, there are heroes. True and brave and authentic heroes who acted not out of a desire to be on CNN or be awarded a medal of honor or valor. Heroes who acted to save themselves and those around them, and who no doubt turned one of the most horrific days in Arizona's modern history into a day to remember this: Out of ordinary men and women, there are always heroes.
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Christina Taylor Green, age 9
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-tucson-girl-killed.html
Dorwan Stoddard, age 76 (died physically covering his wife, Mavy to protect her)
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-tucson-man-saved-wife.html
Phyllis Schneck, age 79
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-retiree-killed.html
Honorable Judge John Roll, age 63
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109john-roll-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting.html
Gabe Zimmerman, age 30
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabe-zimmerman-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting.html
No photo available for Dorothy Morris, age 76
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-morris.html
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Daniel Hernandez, went to the side of Congresswoman Giffords after she was shot, and is credited with possibly saving her life. I have no word for how beautiful his actions were in the face of chaos.
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109daniel-hernandez-gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-extra.html
------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are many more who will be recognized in the days and weeks to come. And no doubt countless others whose small acts of kindness and selflessness for others made a difference that day. The emergency responders, the medical staff and surgeons, the helicopter pilots. The police. The paramedics. The thousands of people across the nation sending love and healing and prayers to those injured and those who lost their lives.
And then there is Congresswoman Giffords, a woman who by all accounts is strong, kind, fair, and brave. A Congresswoman who took the time to meet the people she represents and truly cares.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2011/01/09/20110109gabrielle-giffords-arizona-shooting-morning.html#ixzz1AdxWzC1E
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