This One's For My Homies

I've lost a few friends over the years. Heart attack, car crash, leukemia... and that was all before I turned 18. Home for Passover, I was going through my bat-mitzvah album and it hit me where I got my "life is short and so am I" mentality. Peers in those photos who had passed were athletes, writers and genuinely good people that never had a chance to pursue their dreams. I wanted their spirit to live on in every risk I took.

Always eager to take on that next risk, I left Abington a few months early to start college. Next, I traded 8 sheltered months in Happy Valley to jump-start my career with an internship in New York. A few months before being handed a diploma, I was already back in NY trying to launch my career in TV. The day after being handed my diploma? I was in "pizza school" (located in a dreary restaurant basement) getting certified to serve bread sticks at Pizzeria Unos on 81st and Columbus.

Enter my mentor Kim. About 9 years my senior, she sympathized with my struggle and set me up on a few (unsuccessful) job interviews, then counseled me over cheap pints on how to rock the next one. "She was a risk taker that made it" I thought to myself. And when I learned she had committed suicide a few months into our bonding I almost resigned myself to a simpler life managing a Wawa's in Abington.

But I didn't. I needed to keep taking chances for those who couldn't.

This week I'm temporarily returning to mtvU to work on my favorite pro-social campaign - Half of Us. As someone who suffered a severe anxiety disorder in college, I'm adding 20% to my usual 110% to get the job done right. Towards the end of my Freshmen year, I was too afraid to let others know how panicked I constantly felt at the thought of leaving my dorm room. From my bed I looked out the screen window at others sprawled out and laughing on the grassy lawn below- trying to figure out how to get myself back to 'normal'. Those were the darkest days of my life. Now I have a chance to help others find the light.

In the future I'll keep doing what I'm doing till I can't any longer. Crippling autoimmune diseases that took relatives away from me are lurking in my genetics, ready to pounce whenever they say so. Until then, I'm writing for my Aunt Faye, who won prizes for her essays and succumbed to Parkinsons last year. I'll run for my Grandma Ruthie because she stayed active until scleroderma took her ability to walk. I'll work hard because I had friends that never had the opportunity to relish their first paycheck and I'll play hard, surfing into sunsets because I still have the 20/20 vision to see them with.

In the Jewish religion, when someone dies, mourners are not supposed to shower or bathe for a week. Customarily, grievers will sit on the floor to symbolize the heart wrenching actuality of loosing someone dear to them. It's kind of like the second phase of unemployment (described 2 blogs below), except you can always get a new job. You can't replace someone you love.

So to my friends of the past and present, thanks for shaping who I will be in the future. Your comments and e-mails have been a huge boost when it's hard to stay positive. I'll continue to be a living yahrtzeit candle, shedding brightness during gloomy times in honor of those both still here and no longer with us. I'm in it for the love of the game, it's outta here.