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Thursday night,
September 7th, I landed at O’Hare at 6:30.
Hopped in my car, headed north...and as I always do...called my
wife. Sheryl asked, Did you
hear what happened? I said, No! She told me that there was a tragic
fire in our community, just minutes from our home.
It destroyed 16 apartments.
Displaced over 60 people. And
took the life of a four-year-old boy.
(His sister, is a classmate of my daughter Brittany.) Instead of driving home, I went
straight to the site of this tragedy...to see if I could offer any help.
I spoke with members of the American Red Cross...about food,
monetary contributions and clothing donations. I also visited with a distraught
tenant, who continued to stare in disbelief at the charred remains of
his former home. On Friday, Sheryl and I along with
our three kids; Chad, Brittany and Amanda...loaded our van with giant
plastic bags....filled with shoes, sox, clothing and toys. Stuff that we had for years. Stuff that we thought was important. Stuff that was now...of far greater value to others, than it
was to us. This local loss...powerfully
reinforced simple messages to my family.
That it is okay to enjoy your stuff, but it is far more
important:
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