I Believe I Can Fly

Ooops, I Did It Again


Last week I told you about how I delivered an AMOtivational Presentation to the counselors of Camp del Corazon (CDC), a camp for kids with heart defects. Seven days later I was so eager to go to Catalina Island and meet the kids themselves, I could hardly sleep last night. I woke up at 3:16 a.m., which both amused and inspired me because of the Scriptural significance of that number.

A couple hours later, in the darkness of the late summer pre-dawn, my friend Heather Laird - a.k.a. "Smiles" at camp - was in my driveway, ready to drive north. Like a week ago I fell asleep by the time we reached northern San Diego and, also like a week ago, I completely slept through Orange County. Ah, who needs to see San Clemente anyway?

CDC hosts two "VIP Days" where non-campers are allowed to visit so, feeling blessed with this VIP moniker, I was determined to do two things: leave the Blackberry and texting and connectivity behind, and take on any new challenge camp presented.

That attitude lasted all of about three hours. You might be surprised to learn I had no problem leaving my phone behind; it felt good to not be tethered to it. But after we arrived in San Pedro and took an hourlong ferry (where again I slept) to Catalina's Two Harbors stop, my resolve was tested. Joining us at the San Pedro boat terminal was Smiles' dad, Huey, who was granted the nickname 'Mapquest' because of his amazing navigation skills. Mapquest, Smiles, and I were due to meet a camp leader by the name of 'Captain' at the Two Harbors dock.

Captain was there. And so was a tiny motorboat that had no ramp and looked like a white plastic dingy that could flip over at any moment. He tied it to the dock but of course it was moving around in the water. As my boy Nick Golden might say, Ummmmm....how am I supposed to get in this thing?

"Can you sit down on the dock?" Captain asked. When I said yes, he said, "I've got an idea."  He then proceeded to tell Mapquest to climb in, they each grabbed underneath my arms, I slid to the edge of the dock, and found myself standing on the side of the boat. Sensing that I could only keep my balance for a millisecond, and not wanting to, oh, fall and drown, I quickly said, "Bring me in!  Bring me in!"

They pulled me forward, I planted my prosthetic leg into the boat, wrapped my good leg around the nearby seat, and slid down into it. My heart was beating rapidly but I was safe and all it took was calmness and teamwork. And for me to not hesitate when I saw I was a second from potentially losing balance.

We then sped towards the island, the water cradling us as if we were in a bathtub, and the sun booming on this late August morning. I held onto my white cap with green SD lettering and took in the refreshing wind and warmth already enveloping my sunglasses, ears, and neck.

Fifteen or so minutes later we arrived at the dock for Camp del Corazon. Again the dock was high and wobbly and I was skurred. Relax, said Capitán, who had more access to rope on this dock, which allowed him to tie the dingy to it, get out, and drag me by the armpits until I could plant my left foot and stand upright. The dock itself was creaky and moved around in the water, with very steep ramps connecting to the shore, so Smiles and the strapping Mapquest let me lean on them as we walked.

Camp looked phenomenal. It looked like a cross between an Italian seaside villa and a rustic Mexican beach resort, with cabins lined up on two sides and a main row of office/cabins - the main one was called "the White House" - and an infirmary kissing the shore. Smiles, who started volunteering here ten years ago as a wide-eyed 19-year old, gave us a tour. Shrek, Oops, and Gumby, who have become friends to me now, hugged me enthusiastically. The counselors were hyped. The nurses were hot.

All around us kids aged 7 to 17 swam, ran, shot BB guns in the range, rock-climbed, played kickball, golfed, and swung from a giant rope and harness. When they walked past, you could see scars on their chest from surgeries. Often you would hear an adult remind them to keep drinking water and take rest breaks. The scars were a reminder of their challenging lives but the costumes and glitter and free-spiritedness of the counselors were a reminder that these four days were about just cutting loose and having fun.

I lunched with a table of 17-year old "senior" boys, many of whom had been coming to CDC for 5, 6, 7 years. Most were from L.A. but one boy named Juan was here for the first time from Phoenix and yesterday was the first time he'd ever swam in an ocean. After they hit age 17, all campers are required to take a year off before applying to be counselors. Every boy I talked to planned on doing that and when I asked why, one replied, "This camp changed my life as a heart patient so I need to give back."

We munched on burgers as the DJ - Gumby - blasted Sweet Caroline and Party Rock and then I gave a brief spech. I had no notes because kids have no attention span but also because I wanted to just speak from the heart. I explained to them about my arms and leg, which they plainly saw in my powder blue t-shirt and mesh Notre Dame basketball shorts, and told them we face adversity for a reason. It strengthens us and allows us many great experiences others don't have. Have a blast, I said while walking through the outdoor lunch arbor, and never let anything stop you. Anything is possible.

I then fielded questions and the kids, who had been completely still and silent, shot up their hands. I was asked how I put on my socks and shoes and also if I could lace up my own sneakers (no). My favorite, though, was <high-pitched> "Uuuuuummmmmm....when YOU have an ITCH...um...how do you scratch it?"  So I demonstrated by scratching my nose and then giving a counselor a quick massage.

These kids were AWESOME.

Afterwards, as they all rested, it was time for me to fulfill a pledge. I had promised I'd try one new activity so a group of adults led me to the Giant Swing.

It was Smiles, Mapquest, Oops, and two firefighters named Nozzler and Booter and, ladies and gentlemen, I was terrified. We figured out I could wear a harness and hold, and then release, some rope in order to swing freely in mid-air. But I needed to climb a step-ladder first? Sorry, guys, this ain't happenin'.

Nozzler, the 26-year fire fighting vet, had an idea. We tied a second ring onto my harness, attached it to the wire about 15 feet above us, and that kept me suspended no matter what. They then allowed me to shift my weight onto them and I'd lift my left leg onto each ladder step and they'd lift my right one for me. It was grueling and scary and took about 15 minutes but we did it.

I leaned back far more than I desired but I knew I was secured and was wearing a helmet. Finally I tucked my right arm into the harness and released the rope out of my left.

WHOOOOOSH! As if shot out of a cannon, the wire catapulted me into the air, where I glided left and then glided right. I was about 12 to 15 feet off the ground and Swinging back and forth. My friends cheered. I started singing Far East Movement's "Let's Fly" and R. Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly".  True story.

As fun and liberating as this was, I was still frighteningly leaning back (Nozzler later said an extra D-ring should have been used to prop me up) and my right arm was getting tired within my harness. So they halted me and we slowly climbed down the step ladder. I was dizzy and sweaty but a sense of relief washed over me. Then elation - I had never swung in mid-air like that in my life!

I thought about this on the dingy and ferry rides back (when I wasn't asleep) to Two Harbors and eventually San Pedro. I tried some scary, new things today. Nothing like those kids will face but still daunting to me. And we did it with teamwork, communication, the ability to remain calm, and just plain having some guts.

Back in L.A. we bid farewell to the brilliant and kind-hearted Mapquest - God always has a history of sending people when I need them and, boy, was this guy a major help - and then Smiles and I drove home.

We stopped at the In 'n' Out in Costa Mesa for dinner and I told her that being inspired by those campers was a great way for me to wind down my summer. She brought up my success on the Giant Swing and I slurped my Coke Classic. "Smiles, not only had Sparkplug never been on a swing like that," I smiled, "I've never even climbed a freakin' step ladder!"

She laughed and on the way back to her car I thanked her for introducing me to Camp del Corazon. I had spoken to those kids but in their actions and bravery, they had spoken volumes to me. I need to keep pushing myself and trying new things.

We kept chatting and a half hour later I looked out the window. Orange County looked beautiful at night.

You Gotta Have Heart. Or "Corazón".

Today was one of my best days in a long time. It started with my friend Heather Laird, a.k.a. "Smiles", - I'll explain - picking me up at 6am at my house. Months ago she had asked if I could deliver an A-MOtivational Presentation to the counselors of a camp for which she volunteered. It's an early day, she had said, but you can sleep on our way up.

If there's one thing I can do well, it's sleep. So after a slumber that made me completely miss Orange County, I awoke as we entered the exciting and ennervating city of Los Angeles. I love L.A.'s energy. It's never lacking and it's always awesome to see the Capitol Records building and Studio City and the skyscrapers of downtown. We arrived in North Hollywood and I chuckled that our day-long training would be at the Masonic Temple because the Masons basically created the Shriners - the organization that flew me to this country when I was 2 and provided me free prosthetics at their hospitals in San Francisco and L.A. from age 4 - 21. Hooray for (North) Hollywood!

I was prepared, as we climbed the concrete stairs into the Temple, to fire up these counselors of Camp Corazón. I was ready to hit them with the emotional punches befitting of a camp for kids with heart defects. What I wasn't prepared for was that every counselor greeted me with a hug. Whoooaaa, buddy! Or that a camp rule was that you go by a nickname of your own choosing so suddenly I was receiving these embraces from adults named Gumby, Apple, and Shrek. True story.

Whereas I was ready to motivate them, they motivated me. It was Rotary's Camp RYLA and Notre Dame first day of fall classes all in one. Everyone hugging each other, telling jokes, talking smack, and performing skits. I saw that a main crux of this camp, and this orientation-like atmosphere, was to let kids who had always been told 'no' that this camp would be their first chance of hearing 'yes'.

I grabbed a pen and revised my notecard because I had experiences with both: as described in my first book, friends who said YES let's try the Monkey Bars, and the Camp Anytown director who said NO you shouldn't be here because you might get hurt.

After about two and a half hours it was finally my turn to rock the mike.

I started by explaining that I wanted my nickname to be The Situation. But after lifting my shirt and reviewing my abs, or lack thereof, I saw that I was short, stocky, and yet powerful. Hence my official camp name, one given to me in college: Sparkplug.

I explained about my disability and how my arms worked but spoke slowly because some of the doctors were from USC. (The UCLA grads looooved that one.)

I talked about my camp experiences and how summer camps, especially for those with physical challenges, can be life-defining. How sometimes we provide hope just by our actions. I recounted how the first marathon relay I did with Team MADness motivated a lady who was running for her deceased father and was ready to quit - but didn't.

You can make a difference, I told the 100 or so mostly young adult volunteers. Because you ARE the difference.

They received it real well and I felt the love. I made many friends afterwards, from someone who is helping actors in the Little People community gain jobs, to a guy that wants to teach me Wall climbing, to young ladies who showed me the scars from their heart surgeries.

It was from the latter that I think I learned the most. I know I have my challenges and have endured my share of "pain".  But present in that Masonic Temple (just a space, by the way, this camp isn't affiliated with the Masons) were counselors who had survived heart defects and surgeries as kids. Many of them hadn't enjoyed the activities of youth because other kids had teased them about their scars. Or they were afraid to overexert themselves. Can you imagine being 7 or 10 or 12 and not being able to run and jump and have fun?

This camp, held on Catalina Island, had allowed them that freedom and now they were providing it for other youths aged 7 - 17. Incredibly, some of them were still going back for heart treatments. Now that's courage.

I stuck around and had a marvelous day. And not just because for the second straight afternoon I had In 'n' Out for lunch. #Winning!!

I met incredible people nobly living and assisting an incredible cause.

We left L.A. before the late August sun had dipped into the Pacific and I did what I do best, sleep in the car. Smiles drove and chatted with her backseat buddy - "Kitty" - and I awoke to my cell phone blowing up with texts. Colleen McD, Larimer, and Ana Maria were all at the Padres game and apparently we were beating down Florida 14-1. I had felt guilty about taking a night off of work but my boss Sue had told me this was a great opportunity and to enjoy it.

She was right. Tomorrow we'll honor Trevor Hoffman, himself a survivor of a kidney transplant, who'll someday be in the Hall of Fame. You can never take anything for granted or minimize the impact it may have when kids get a second chance. Sometimes the one most impacted is you.