March 31 12:42pm

March 31 12:42pm

Musing

Several people have asked me what I think the trip will be like for me; what do I hope to get out of it? I'm not sure what will unfold for me on this journey. I have, or try to have, no expectations for healing or resolution or even acceptance, though I would welcome any of those in any measure. I'm going with the single goal of honoring Kyle, of creating a physical tribute to him through our actions. I'm so moved that his friends have and are giving so much of themselves to take this journey. Most of them had only a casual interest in the Middle East prior to Kyle's death, and they argued bitterly with him trying to talk him out of going to Israel. So, it is especially poignant that they are now so conscientiously and purposefully exploring and understanding the dream they didn't want him to live.

In Flight

We just passed Lake Tahoe, then the Eastern Sierra heading for the Rocky Mountains on our way to New York. We all made it. Only a couple of parents cried, and none of the kids! Hasmig rearranged our seats with a friendly couple who was happy to escape our pack, so we're all sitting together. Gemma ended up sitting next to a very nice woman who held her hand during take-off, and she was fine. Better than fine, she looked ecstatic. Half of Team Kyle was asleep before the plane took off. Hasmig and I both got scolded for not turning off our phones when we were supposed to. Nick started in on his big-as-the-tray-table sandwich right away, Ben can hear nothing besides his iPod. Siena is in fetal position against the bulkhead with her head wrapped in a jacket. We're good.

And guess who slept through his alarm and nearly missed the trip?? I was almost finished packing, making the bed for the house sitter, downloading old photos and charging my camera, paying my property taxes, shooting Max a last minute email, returning a dozen well-wishing texts, posting to the blog, etc., when Irma and Amri showed up at the front door to send me off. As hard as it is for me not to be with Persis, Niko, Irma and Amri on the day of the anniversary of the accident, it still feels right to be on the plane heading to the Middle East. We had a sweet little visit, and talked about our boys who didn't bring guns to Berkeley High, didn't get in fights, had no enemies, never got in any serious trouble, spent most of their time together laughing, but lost the roll of the dice. Amri is forever annoyed with me that I don't wear pajamas or sweats around my own house, and can't believe that I'm so uptight that I am still in my daytime pants and shirt late in the evening. She's taken me on as a project, trying to teach me how to relax. She's not a very good teacher, though, and relies mostly on lecture and direct instruction. By the time Irma hugged me goodnight, it was 2:30am. Maya and I climbed into Kyle's bed, the first time I've slept there since March 31. I set my alarm for 4:30am. The next thing I remember was Leib knocking on the front door and the house phone ringing. It was 5:30am. I made it out of the house in 15 minutes, but we were still the last of the group to arrive at the airport.

So, once again, this time in a very tangible way, I almost didn't make it. And once again, it was the Sutcher/Barber Family and Hasmig who grabbed me and willed me through. Steve even had coffee waiting for me in the car.

Parents, if you're reading this, don't worry. I promise from here on out, I'll get my shit together and act like a grown up!

Getting Ready to...Go

We're leaving for the airport in four hours. I haven't posted for several days. Last Sunday was the Unveiling of Kyle's headstone, so we were pretty consumed with that, then exhausted for a day or two once it was over, and here it is Thursday morning, March 31.

There were over 100 people at the unveiling. It didn't rain. Jhos compared Kyle to Moses. He said the Passover story chronicles the transformation of Moses from an angry young man into a Messianic leader who changed the world. Moses, who led his people to the Promised Land but never reached it himself. Persis read a poem, I described how we arrived at the artwork on the headstone, and a little about how Chris chiseled every letter with great love and care. We read a blessing, then Niko cut the veil, and we stood huddled, taking in my son's name, the artwork from his tattoo, and his own optimistic words, "And I believe in 'one person can make a difference,' because if everybody believed they couldn't, nothing would ever change." And then hidden on the back of the stone, in fine slightly ephemeral letters, "Sweet sweet Kyle." Sarah and Tim played the stunning, beautiful, piercing song they wrote for us a few months ago, I Need a Boat (lyrics posted on www.sweetsweetkyle.blogspot.com). I met Tim on the day I moved into the dorms at UC Santa Cruz my freshman year. He had his door ajar and was playing dulcimer at his desk. We ended up being RAs together the next year and then were housemates off campus for several years. Hasmig spoke next, and after a tribute to Kyle, asked all the students going on the Trip to step forward. She explained how we will be fulfilling Kyle's dream, but that we also want to take some of the community with us. We passed out slips of paper and pens so that each person could write a word or blessing for us to take to Israel with us. Jhos was so moved when he saw all the students step forward that he asked them all to come back and place a hand on Kyle's headstone. He led a the entire audience in a chant to hold the beat, then he launched into a spontaneous, singing blessing over all the travelers. It was spectacular. A couple days later, Ben told me, "Jhos is awesome. He like went totally freestyle on us!"

When I was in college, our good friend, Danny Weiss, played African Drums. Tim and I used to joke that he was the only Jewish guy we knew with rhythm. Jhos makes two.

Last Friday, I spoke with Kyle's good friend, Max. Max has been living in Tel Aviv since last summer. Kyle was to join him this summer. They called each other brothers. Max was worried that we might be having second thoughts about the trip because of the recent bombing in Jerusalem and the rockets being fired from Gaza. He reassured me that there really is no danger to speak of. He said he was, that moment, visiting his uncle and aunt in the south about 20 km from Gaza. He said, even when there are bombings, he still feels totally safe in Israel. "I feel safer walking around at night here then I do in Berkeley."

City of Berkeley Proclamation

Last night Berkeley City Councilmember Susan Wengraf read a Proclamation that she wrote on behalf of Mayor Tom Bates celebrating the Kyle Strang Leadership Program. The whole gang was there, kids, parents, Hasmig, Persis, Niko. The mayor started the meeting by calling us all up to the front of the room facing the Council. Susan Wengraf read the Proclamation, and I might have been projecting a little, but I thought I detected some emotion in her voice, a little cracking at some key places. It was beautiful. Then the mayor said, "Would the leader of your group like to say a few words?" Leib and I had agreed that he would speak first, and I'd follow if time allowed. He was all ready, but when the mayor invited the "leader" Leib hesitated. I gave him the eye, and he stepped up. He said, "Well, I'm not the leader. We're a team here." Then he went on to describe the significance of the trip, and what he and the others hope to bring back from it to the Berkeley community. He was perfect. I followed with a couple sentences, but didn't have much to add to Leib's words. Here is the Proclamation:

City of Berkeley Proclamation
CELEBRATING THE KYLE HARTY STRANG LEADERSHIP DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM AND THE 2011 TRIP TO THE MIDDLE EAST

WHEREAS, Kyle Harty Strang was a student in the Communications Arts and Sciences (CAS) program at Berkeley School at the time of his tragic death at age 16, cutting short a bright and promising future; and
WHEREAS, Kyle was passionate about the dream of traveling to Israel to fulfill his deep feelings of responsibility for sharing in the struggle for everyone's right to survive and thrive; and
WHEREAS, In September, 2009, Kyle wrote in a poem, "I believe in 'one person can make a difference' because if everybody believed they couldn't, nothing would ever change;" and
WHEREAS, as a tribute to Kyle's commitment to trying to understand different different points of view, The Kyle Harty Strang Leadership Development Program was established to help make Kyle's dream a reality and through a partnership of CAS, Berkeley Public Education Foundation and the organization Seeking Common Ground, an ongoing leadership development program at Berkeley High has been established to inspire young leaders and provide them with the skills to become agents for social change; and
WHEREAS, Israeli, Palestinian and American teen alumni of the Seeking Common Ground program will guide the leadership development and conflict resolution activities for thirteen CAS Berkeley High School students in a series of intensive retreats, and in April 2011, with the support and efforts of their extraordinary history teacher, Hasmig Minassian, the group will go on their 10-day trip to Israel and Palestine in a Building Bridges for Peace program.
NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED, THAT I TOM BATES, Mayor of Berkeley, do hereby honor
THE KYLE HARTY STRANG LEADERSHIP DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM
and congratulate all those involved, including teachers, family and students; especially the family of Kyle Harty Strang for making Kyle's vision a reality.
Tom Bates, Mayor March 22, 2011

And here we are:

Carved in Stone

When Kyle was in pre-school at Garden Day Montessori 3 blocks from our house, one of his very best friends was a boy at the school named Nicky. For three years, they played together at Garden Day, perhaps the two best athletes in the school of fifteen or so 2-5 year olds. They mastered the tire swing and slide together, ran faster than the others in games of chase, and decided to take Kuk Sool Won Korean Martial Arts together. They were in the Kuk Sool Mighty Mights class. Kyle's favorite part was playing "Duck/Jump" at the end of each lesson, when Sir would try to hit each kid in the head and feet with a swimming pool noodle. They were both spunky, funny, mischievous little boys, Nicky a little tougher and a little quieter than Kyle. They shared dozens of playdates at each others' houses. I think Nicky did a couple of sleepovers at our house, and Kyle loved playing at Nicky's on Parker Street where his dad's very cool stone carving studio faced the street in an old storefront protecting the attached house they were totally remodeling themselves. The studio and the morphing new home was paradise for spunky, mischievous boys, loaded with hammers, mallets, chisels, power tools and big slabs of beautiful stones. Kyle was a movie addict even then, and his favorite was Toy Story (before he discovered Star Wars). He watched the original on VHS enough times to memorize the dialogue. So, when my mom got tickets to Toy Story On Ice, Kyle could barely contain himself. She got four tickets: one for herself, one for me, one for Kyle and one left for a friend. Kyle bestowed his one precious ticket on Nicky.

On March 8, 1997, we got snow cones, cotton candy and Buzz Lightyear wrist beams, and all four of us watched and hooted in wide-eyed wonder. The boys watching the show, my mom and I watching the boys. Silly, but it was the most fun my mom and I could remember having together (well, I admit, during those years, everything I did with Kyle was the most fun I could remember having).

On March 8, 2011 my mom lives at the Rhoda Goldman Plaza on the 4th floor in the Alzheimer's Unit. She doesn't remember Toy Story on Ice, and she doesn't know that her grandson died in a car accident. Her doctors tell us that she'll be upset, but then won't remember why, and will keep re-experiencing the shock of learning of his death.

On March 8, 2011 Nick's dad, Chris, begins to paint on the letters that he will, in a few days, begin to chisel out of Kyle's black granite headstone. He tells me that he doesn't listen to music while he works, he thinks about watching Nick and Kyle through his storefront window, four years old, playing on the sidewalk, then scampering through his studio to the house to get a popsickle. They were just playing here, and now I'm carving his headstone.

Getting Ready to Blog

My son, Kyle, and his dear friend, Prentice, died in a car accident on March 31, 2010. Prentice was 19, Kyle was three months from his 17th birthday. Prentice lived across the street with his mom and his sister; his house was an extension of Kyle's bedroom, his family an extension of Kyle's family. Next Sunday, March 27, 2011, we will unveil Kyle's headstone with a brief ceremony and gathering of friends and family to mark the first anniversary of the worst day of our lives. Four days later, on the actual anniversary of the accident, I will board an airplane in San Francisco with 14 of Kyle's good friends from Berkeley High: 12 students and a teacher from CAS, the small school at Berkeley High that Kyle loved so much, and a 13th student who is now an honorary member of the CAS family. We will travel together to Israel and Palestine for 11 days over Spring Break, to take the Trip That Kyle Never Got To Take. How I got from March 31, 2010 to March 31, 2011, I can barely comprehend.

I'm planning to keep a blog during the trip, and will try to fill in some of the pieces along the way. For now, I'll begin by saying that I couldn't have survived this year without so many of you. Each day I felt as though I might just slip away, drift off into no where, and each day, someone pulled me back. Thanks.

Here are some of us that are going on the trip:

Here is who didn't make it: