Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 56

“I’m a first-generation American, so education was extremely...

“I’m a first-generation American, so education was extremely important in my house.  I’d have family members tell me: ‘You should be a doctor,’ but it always seemed unobtainable.  So I decided to major in accounting.  And to tell you the truth, I enjoyed the work for a long time.  I loved crunching numbers.  It brought me joy.  And it brought my parents joy too.  My father loved telling people that his daughter worked on Wall Street.  So I never questioned my path.  Then came September 11th.  It was a beautiful morning, just like this. We could see everything from our office window. When the first plane hit, everyone assumed it was an accident. Then the next plane hit, and people started running out of the building.  We stayed home for three weeks.  Our office was used for emergency triage, and it felt like a warzone when we came back.  You could still smell the fumes coming through the vents.  Things never went back to normal for me.  I remember coming into work on the 4th of July, and thinking: ‘Why am working on a holiday?  It’s not like I’m saving lives.’  That’s when I decided to go back to school.  I found a college that would let me do nights and weekends.  After two full years of prerequisite courses, I was accepted into medical school.  And that’s when things really got tough.  I’m 35 at this point.  I had been a Vice President at Citibank.  I’m full of confidence.  But suddenly I’m in class with all these younger people, and I’m struggling.  It was hard.  But I found a crew of other students to support me.  And I was focused.  I knew exactly what kind of pediatrician I wanted to be.  Ever since I’ve graduated, even in residency, I’ve been working with children in underserved communities.  Some of my patients grew up in homeless shelters.  But all of them get my very best.   When I get feedback, my patients will say: ‘Dr. Nelson really cares about my daughter.’  And I do really care.  It’s not an easy job by any means.  I’m still working nights.  And weekends.  And holidays.  But it’s a different attitude.  I’ve never had a day when I woke up feeling like I didn’t want to go to work.”
#quarantinestories

“You kinda go into that whole thing thinking ‘one,’ so we were...

“You kinda go into that whole thing thinking ‘one,’ so we were pretty shocked to learn that we were having twins.  We were living in Las Vegas for my husband’s job. We didn’t have any family around us.  And I was getting nervous about doing everything myself.  Our neighborhood had one of those communal mailbox areas, and I think that’s where I first met our neighbors Joe and Marie.  They were the sweetest people.  Marie was getting ready to retire, and one day she mentioned that she’d like to help when the babies came.  ‘I’m not looking for a job,’ she told me. ‘But when I was raising my boys, I always wondered what it would be like to have an extra hour in the day.’  I wasn’t sure about the seriousness of her offer.  But sure enough, on the first morning I was alone with the twins, Marie called and asked if I needed anything.  She came over for about an hour while I took a shower.  Then she came over the next day.  And the next.  Marie ended up coming over every weekday for an entire year.  She’d give me a short break and do whatever needed to be done: prepare the bottles, fold the laundry, wash the dishes.  Every time she walked in the door, she’d always say the same thing: ‘How are my babies today?’  We became good friends during our time together.  My own mother was suffering from Alzheimer’s, so she wasn’t able to provide the comfort and advice I needed.  Marie helped with that too.  It wasn’t anything really deep, just simple stuff about mothering, that otherwise I’d have to find in a book.  Some nights the doorbell would ring and she’d have dinner for us, the most wonderful Italian food.  Her specialty was Mama Marie’s Meatballs.  We ended up leaving the city when my kids turned four, but Marie and I stayed in touch on the phone.  I always sent her a Mother’s Day card.  She was hoping to come to Indiana for the kids’ graduation, but by that time she was too ill to travel.  Marie passed away a few years ago.  But up until the end of her life, every time she’d call, she’d always greet me the same way: ‘How are my babies today?’”  
#quarantinestories

“I was just a kid from a little cow town in Montana, but I was...

“I was just a kid from a little cow town in Montana, but I was convinced I knew everything.  So I got into a little tangle with my dad and ended up joining the Air Force.  They stationed me out in Spokane, Washington.  And not long after I arrived, me and a couple of buddies decided to take a day trip out to Liberty Lake.  It was a real neat little lake.  Fifteen feet deep and so clear that you could see straight to the bottom.  We started playing a little football on the beach, but then we noticed three girls out on a floating dock.  So we decided to swim out there.  The water was really cold.  And about halfway to the dock, I charley horsed in both my legs and started to sink.  I thought for sure I was going to drown.  When I woke up, I was laying on the dock, and one of those girls was staring down at me.  Apparently she’d seen me go under, jumped in her brother’s boat, and pulled me out by the hair.   That girl was named Dolores.  She saved my life in August of 1952, and she saved me again and again for the next 64 years.  We raised four children together.  Not only was she my wife, but she was also my mentor.  I was just a kid from Montana.  She turned me into a good man.  Her personality, her love, I’m talking deep love, for me and the children, changed me one inch at a time.  And she never lost that heart for rescuing people.  She worked with youth.  She worked in street ministries. Whenever somebody was in a little bit of trouble, Dolores would jump right in.  I know she sounds a bit like Wonder Woman, but she was.  We were inseparable.  People called us ‘joined at the hip.’  Two years ago she passed away.  And I’ll tell you the only reason I’m still living, because I know, that one day, I’m going to wake up in heaven, and see Dolores looking down at me one more time.”  
#quarantinestories

“It was just like one of those scripted, TV show abandonments....

“It was just like one of those scripted, TV show abandonments.  We were at the laundromat together.  My dad took the car to ‘get us lunch,’ and just never came back.  He was only twenty-four, and I guess he couldn’t handle the pressure of being a young dad.  My mom was left in a very tough spot, because not long afterward my health problems began.  I started walking with a limp.  None of the doctors could figure it out.  Most of them guessed Cerebral Palsy or Muscular Dystrophy, but the treatments didn’t seem to help.  That’s around the time my mom met Eric.  Both of them were working at Red Lobster.  She was a waitress.  Eric was a bartender.  I was only five years old, so I just knew him as ‘Mom’s cool friend’ with the really long sideburns.  We started spending more and more time at his rental house.  He had an original Nintendo that he let me play.  We spent our first Christmas together, and I remember he gave me a bat cave,  the Michael Keaton edition.  As things got more serious with my mom, Eric really took charge of my health.  He helped pay for the specialists.  He drove us to children’s hospitals around the country. Finally we found the doctor who gave me a correct diagnosis, and I was able to get the medication I needed.  Not long afterwards my mom and Eric got married.  They had three more children.  I was ‘Jon Snow’ in the whole thing, but Eric never made me feel that way.  He treated me like his son.  When I was in high school, our youngest brother passed away, and I don’t think my parents ever really recovered.  Recently they got a divorce, so there’s no ‘legality’ to Eric and I’s relationship anymore.  It’s become much more of a friendship.  But he’ll always be the father figure that I almost didn’t have.  Thirty years ago Eric stepped into a mess.  Poor, single mother.  Disabled kid.  He could have run the other direction but he didn’t.  He decided to get in there, get his hands dirty, and become a father.  And that’s the reason I became the man I am today.”
#quarantinestories

“My dad took his own life when I was fifteen years old. I’m...

“My dad took his own life when I was fifteen years old.  I’m sure it was traumatic for my mom, but she sort of just sucked it up.  She’d already experienced a lot of heartbreak in life.  She grew up in a dysfunctional household and became a caregiver at a very young age.  So she was able to conceal her emotions and focus on supporting me and my brother.  I was the good kid.  I worked hard in school.  I played three sports.  And Mom supported me in everything I wanted to try.  Not in a pushy way.  More of a helpful way.  So much of her life was just driving me places: practice, games, extra lessons.  Unfortunately her relationship with my older brother was different.  Jacob was defiant.  He wouldn’t listen.  He had a good heart but he was doing a lot of reckless, scary things.  One time he stole my mom’s car and she had to call the police.  Jacob had been the one who discovered my dad’s body, and I don’t think he ever fully recovered.  Five years later he took his own life.  When my mom got that phone call, she came into the living room, laid on top of me, and starting crying.  ‘Jacob just shot himself,’ she said.  Both of us barely recovered.  I began training for triathlons to deal with my grief.  It had been my mom’s suggestion, but I think it inspired her.  Because one morning she made herself go outside, lace up her shoes, and take a run.  Later she told me that running gave her something to live for.  It allowed her to see color in the world and hear birds chirping.  She began to compete in triathlons herself, and eventually became a certified coach.  Mom’s ultimate goal was always to finish an Ironman competition, but it didn’t seem possible.  She failed on four different attempts.  Nobody wanted her to try again.  She was 68 years old.  She was the oldest female competing in Ironman Texas, and they literally thought she could die.  But Mom was determined to try one more time.  I cheered her on the entire way.  I walked alongside her while she swam the canal.  I biked alongside her while she ran.  I remember we were nearing the end of the race, and she had to get to mile eighteen by 9 pm, or she’d be disqualified.  I was telling her to pick up the pace.  But by then she knew.  She looked at her watch, then she looked at me, and said: ‘I’m an hour ahead.  I’m going to be an Ironman!”
#quarantinestories

“We refer to it as the night we had mind-blowing sex. It was...

“We refer to it as the night we had mind-blowing sex.  It was celebratory sex.  My husband loves watches.  And all evening he’d been trying to win an eBay auction for this Nixon watch.  It wasn’t even fancy.  But at the last minute he ended up with the winning bid, so we decided to celebrate.  My mother was staying with us at the time, so we were trying to be quiet.  I had a pillow over my face.  Nate was trying to keep things under control.  But right at the Big Moment, something happened.  What began as a good moan, turned into a bad moan.  Nate grabbed the back of his head.  He told me that I needed to call the paramedics.  By the time we reached the hospital, he was already losing consciousness.  The doctor showed me his scans and explained to me that Nate had experienced a ‘catastrophic’ aneurysm.  That was the word he used.  I said: ‘Catastrophic like die?’  And he said: ‘Yes.’  The nurses wheeled Nate down the hallway and into the surgery room.  Right before they went inside, they took off his wedding ring, and told me: ‘Say what you want to say.’  For the last few months, Nate had been bugging me about having another kid.  So I whispered in his ear: ‘If you don’t die, I’ll have another baby.’  It took 28 days in the ICU.  And six months of rehabilitation.  But it was a complete recovery.  Nate came through with no deficits.  We named our new son Nixon, just like that silly watch.  It arrived in the mail while Nate was recovering.  And you know what?  He couldn’t even wear it.  It was three links too short.”
#quarantinestories

“My partner and I were looking to foster a child, so we decided...

“My partner and I were looking to foster a child, so we decided to attend some parenting courses.  There were about five different couples in the class.  And we were doing this ‘ice breaker’ thing, where everyone shared their reason for wanting to become a foster parent.  When it came around to one guy, he sort of shrugged, and said: ‘We already have three kids, but there’s an extra seat in our minivan.’  Everyone started laughing.  The whole room relaxed.  And that’s my first memory of Larkin.  He was attending the class with his wife Katie, and I was drawn to them immediately.  They were just such obviously good people.  We started eating lunch with them on our breaks.  We’d visit them on weekends.  One Halloween we were trick-or-treating with their kids, and Larkin sat me down on a stoop, and asked why we hadn’t fostered yet.  That’s when I told him about my health problems.  My mother had given me a kidney transplant fifteen years earlier, and it was beginning to fail.  I was on heavy dialysis.  I needed blood transfusions.  Soon I would need another kidney, but I couldn’t find a match.  I never asked him.  I’d never do that to someone.  But the next day Larkin called me and told me he wanted to be tested.  It was a miracle.  We were a perfect match.  We went through months of preparation.  But four days away from the surgery, my blood test showed an abnormality, and we were suddenly unmatched.  It was devastating.  I felt like giving up, but Larkin kept pressing me to consider a paired donation.  He offered to donate his kidney to an absolute stranger, if the hospital would find me a match.  And they did.  Larkin gave his kidney to a woman, and I received one from her husband.  I was forever changed by this man.  Larkin is someone who truly lives his life for other people.  Not only did he give me the gift of life.  But he’s shown me what it means to be a human on this earth.”
#quarantinestories

“It’s funny how things turned out, because I was never a brave...

“It’s funny how things turned out, because I was never a brave mother in the beginning.  I was very fearful.  Gabi never learned to ride a bike because I was so scared that she’d fall down and break a bone.  In Brazil especially, there seems to be a belief that daughters are made of glass and crystal.  But soon enough I realized, I need to raise her like I am: not embarrassed to eat by herself, or go to a movie by herself, or raise a daughter by herself. So I pushed her to be more independent.  In 2015 we were listening to a lot of news stories about the Syrian refugee crisis.  Gabi was fifteen by then, and she already spoke very good English.  So she was determined to help.  We organized a trip to the Greek island of Lesvos, where many of the refugees were landing.  During that trip my daughter turned into a woman right before my eyes.  Not only a woman, a giant.  She helped thousands of people out of boats.  I was so freaking worried.  Some of these people had hypothermia, so I thought someone might die in front of her.  But Gabi was so energized.  She never grew tired.  And by the time we got home, everything had changed.  She wanted to do more.  She went back to Greece on her next vacation,  but this time she went alone.  Since then she’s been all over the world helping refugees.  It’s her life now.  There have been articles about her.  She was even in a textbook  You know, back when I was pregnant with Gabi, I had this silly idea that I needed to become a great journalist.  So that my daughter would be proud of me one day.  And she’d tell her friends at school about me.  But that never happened.  My daughter is the one to be proud of.  And I’m here to clear the way for her.  Like Sarah Connor in the Terminator movie.  Recently I retired from journalism so that I could open a flower company.  Gabi owns fifty percent of the company, and we use the profits to fund her volunteer work.  So I might not be a famous journalist.  But I’m a fucking good mother.”
#quarantinestories

“I lived with my biological mother in Moscow until I was nine...

“I lived with my biological mother in Moscow until I was nine years old.  She was a very bitter woman.  I remember loving her despite the dark moments, but she neglected me.  And she was abusive.  Eventually my father was able to win a court case and brought me to live with him.  It was my first time on an airplane.  I was so fascinated by everything.  When I got to his apartment, I had my own bedroom.  And there were two little bees sitting on the bedside table, a mother bee and a baby bee.  They were a gift from my father’s wife Elena, and I still have them today.  I call Elena my ‘mom’ because I don’t like the word ‘stepmother.’  It’s not enough.  She was so patient with me, even though I was a troubled child.  I was quiet.  I mainly kept to myself.  And during that first year, I bit her so many times that she had to wear long sleeves.  But my mom was never unfriendly, never violent, never abusive.  Even when she got angry, she always made me feel like I had value.  Our twentieth anniversary was on April 2nd.  She’s been there there for all the heartaches.  She’s shown up for all the big moments.  All I’ve ever gotten from her is love.  Mom doesn’t tell me much about her life before me.  I know she always wanted to be a mother, but married my father too late to conceive.  But whenever I ask about it, she doesn’t go into detail.  She’ll just say that I’m the only child she needs.”
#quarantinestories

“Oh God, he was my life. You couldn’t miss him. He was big....

“Oh God, he was my life.  You couldn’t miss him.  He was big.  6’3” and 200 lbs, and he was so alive.  Wayne always stopped for life.  That’s one thing he taught me, if you want fullness in life, you have to stop for it.  He’d pull over on the side of the road to explore a creek.  Or to look at a piece of road kill. Or he might visit a friend to help fix a roof, and end up staying the entire week.  By the time Wayne left, the whole house would be renovated.  He could fix anything.  He once found a Model T in the woods and had it working in days.  He was a complete genius like that.  But one unfortunate thing about Wayne, he wasn’t a doctor oriented person.  So by the time we discovered the cancer, it had already spread to his lungs.  We were arrogant at first.  We thought we could beat anything.  But it was only a matter of time.  A few weeks before his death, we were hanging out, smoking hash, and talking about what to do with his ashes.  Suddenly Wayne picked up the vial of hash, looked at it closely, and told us he had an idea.  It took a lot to get that man down.  Wayne wanted to live until his 54th birthday, and that’s exactly when he died.  You can’t grieve for a man like that, so we threw him a ‘fun’eral.  We had bluegrass music and two bushels of Chesapeake Bay crabs.  And as a parting gift, every attendee received a vial of Wayne’s ashes.  There were hundreds of them.  We only requested that each recipient share where their vial ended up.  Mine got mixed into some ink and tattooed on my finger.  The other vials have gone all around the world: seven continents, so many bodies of water, the Wailing Wall, the Great Barrier Reef.  Wayne’s in two different volcanoes.  A sarcophagus in the Louvre.  He’s even in the evidence room of a Georgia prison, because one of our friends got arrested with Wayne in his pocket.  Wayne would have loved that.  That’s such a Wayne place to end up.  You could never contain him.  Not when he was alive.  Not when he was dead.”
#quarantinestories