Waterworks.

And I'm not referring to the company. I'm referring to my inactive tear ducts. Most of y'all who know me are aware of the fact that I don't cry. I can want to cry, which for most people would mean they do, or I can laugh until I should be crying. But, nay, no tears. Even when I get seriously injured, ie break bones, I start to laugh. Hysterically. It's really weird and I don't know why I'm so emotionally stunted. But I promise, I'm not the Grinch ... and yes, I totally have a red heart.

Either way, today I had a single tear fall from my eye which can only mean an emotional tsunami. If you're reading this you probably read my previous blog as well. Well, yesterday I placed a gingerbread clad card in the mail to Noah sending him lots of love from New York City. Claire sent me a message this morning notifying me she had forwarded my email plea to Kirsten Haglund, Miss America 2008 (she's doing the logo, website, etc for Kirsten). Not completely random as Kirsten is from Michigan and so is little Noah. Kirsten responded with a note to Claire saying that she lives only 30 minutes away from him and this has been all over the news. The post office in South Lyon, MI has processed over 80,000 cards for Noah.

So, what I'm trying to say through foggy eyes is, if you sent a card ... thank you! You have helped make this a joyful and fulfilled Christmas for this little boy. If you haven't, you still have time. But get it in the mail fast. Let him know there are people around the entire country who are praying for him ... thinking of him ... sending positivity his way. Remind him of the hope, peace, and joy of the season.

Christmas Joy

So, I got the following email forwarded from a dear friend last night and I can't help but share it and ask that you join in. The story hits really close to home for me, and for my graduating high school class. Let's flood this little boys home with loads of Christmas cards. And after you mail the card, say a prayer for him and for his family. Then (just a suggestion) give your family and friends a hug and let them know how special they are to you.

Below is the email:

Tonight while I was at work, my co-worker Betty posted a note about a very special little boy.

His name is Noah and he is dying of cancer. This 5 year old little boy will not make it till Christmas and so his parents are celebrating early. When asked what he wanted for Christmas all he said he wanted were Christmas cards!

I couldn't help but think of how easily we all get swept up in the hoopla that is the holiday season and especially this year how many of us worry about money and providing expensive material things for each other. What a lesson we should learn from Noah. All he wants is love from people he will never meet. PLEASE!! Let's leave this little guy swimming in cards!!

Just today I was worrying about how I had to take gigs instead of visiting my family. I should be greatful I have a a gift to share, a job, and a father who i will see even if it isn't on Christmas day. Let's all take a moment to send a little bit of joy and celebrate the true meaning of LIFE, not just this season.

PLEASE FORWARD THIS ON AND SEND THOSE CARDS ASAP!!!

Noah Biorkman
1141 Fountain View Circle
South Lyon, MI 48178

Thank you!!
Jennica

Keep the Faith

When I hopped on the subway Tuesday instead of finding a gaggle of Latin American accordian and guitar players I heard this 21 year old girl sing really important words. And she sang them really beautifully despite the chaos of the jolting train ...

I found her online so I could share! And, no, not another stalker moment for me ... she gave us slips of paper with some info on how to find her.

Turn it up loud, and let the words sink in ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RebuSb1Ic5E

The Week In Review

This past week was a test of endurance. And indeed I've crossed the finish line.

While our trip to Virginia was wonderful the athletic endeavors we were cheering at proved to be sub-par. Well, sub-par for the teams we were cheering for. The Crabbers' game was broadcast nationally as a part of the National High School Rival ... I have the name totally incorrect, but I'm fairly confident you get the picture. My dad had me come down to the field and stand by him during his interview. When I say stand by him this is what happened: he caught my attention, I came down the stands, stood by him, they introduced him and said "well, Coach Smith says this is the first time he's ever done this so we'll let him take it from here." My dad then introduced me and proceeded to tell them I was the new offensive coordinator for the team. I have only felt more awkward once in my life and it was when we were on the reality show. I can't tell that story because it's too painful to re-hash. Either way we lost 17-0. The defense played really, really well. Offense, not so much. This week the local news station was covering the game and the three guys apparently told my pops they weren't interviewing him without me. My dad publicly announced my firing. Bahaha. Well, they say you win some and you lose some. That old adage was definitely adhered to in Virginia that weekend ... on many fronts.

Then ... I got to take Paul to Charlottesville! Unfortunately it was raining and Georgia Tech killed us. Fortunately the Lyle family was in town! My mom, Paul, and I all had dinner at Ten with the Lyle clan followed up with drinks at BANG! My favorite. Then off to the Virginian we went. It was such a fun night. And the rain finally ceased for the next day. Fall in Charlottesville really is absolutely gorgeous.

After an unholy amount of work due at the beginning of the week I was finally able to see straight on Thursday. Just in time to rejoice about the hate crime bill signed by President Obama. I'm amped about this step closer towards justice. Also, Paul and I carved a pumpkin to get into the holiday spirit and out of work mode ... even if just for a brief bit.

Paul hard at work.

I found a template online that I thought he would like and this is what we got ...

Then before we knew it Halloween was here! Friday night I dressed up like Falcon Heene, aka Balloon Boy. I must say the balloons were severely annoying approximately .5 seconds into the night, but the tennis shoes were super comfortable in comparison to the heels I wore last night as Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl. And I must say, my date Chuck Bass looked quite handsome.

But, that's all I've got for you. Everything else I'm going to keep a secret.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

Omen?

Let's hope. The Crabs are taking over!

I-64 West, the main interstate through Hampton Roads, just closed because a truck overturned and spilled live crabs across the interstate.

Think I'm joking? See below.

That's My Dad, The COACH.

I had a t-shirt that said just that when I was about 4 years old. I remember it so distinctly, it had a little cheerleader, with a rainbow behind the big black bold lettering. I saved it and wore it for many years after I should have, but when it finally became a belly shirt Lisa decided it was time for it to hit the trash can. But when I went home this summer she pulled out the t-shirts she's going to have a big quilt made out of ... and I had it saved. I tell you I loved that shirt.

My dad is a high school football coach, and is in his 40th year (I believe) as the head coach at Hampton High School in Virginia. Before that he was an assistant coach for the same team for over 5 years. Yes indeed, he is old enough to have coached for that long. When some of you, and even some of your parents, were mere ideas. BUT, 16 years after he had been a head coach I was born on November 26th. Last night he told me he would never forget that day "in his whole entire life" (which if he hasn't forgotten this after his 68 year life, we're on a good roll, even though it's only been 23 years since I arrived... *I have no idea what that sentence means. But you get the idea). This was the conversation we had:

Me: "Who's coming home for Thanksgiving? Who's going to be eating with us?"
Dad: "Well, it looks like it will be me, you, your mother, Piper, and Star."
Me: "Well what are we doing this Thanksgiving other than being grateful?"
Dad: "have good company with Leigh-Taylor"
Me: "No"
Dad: "eat good"
Me "No"
Dad: "I don't what else is going on?"
SILENCE.
Dad: "OH, Your birthday! ... I'll never forget that day" (wait for it) ...

"You looked like a little something that had been dipped down in a tub of lard."

END SCENE.

After they bathed me and took me home for a little over 24 hours I attended my first Hampton High School football game. At four days old. We won the state championship 2 weeks later. My dad has garnered about 13 of those in his years at Hampton High School. And, he is also the winningest coach in Virginia High School Football History. And he is in the Top 5 winningest coaches in the US. But, you know what? While all of that stuff is pretty cool, I believe the coolest thing is the number of lives he has changed.

When I was getting ready for Miss America I tried to think back on why exactly I am the way I am. Why I feel compelled to help people I see suffering. Why I want to change our society so that our kids have a better future. And while my mom was an obvious influence on me by taking me to Meals on Wheels trips when I was a wee thing, and encouraging me to give back to the community in more overt ways I watched my dad from afar and looking back I realize he had a huge impact on my vision of our world. You see, my dad never drew the line at just being a coach. He has been a mentor, and often a father figure to those students that are playing for him. When you're working in a school similar to his you have the ability to keep kids off the street through sports. Talk about changing a life trajectory.

I so distinctly remember hanging around with my family on a lazy Sunday afternoon, it was definitely late December/early January ... the time of year that is AMAZING. Because you don't have school or work, but you also don't really want to go out and it's perfect because ... there are so many amazing college bowl games on. SO MANY. ALLL DAY. EVERY DAY. We were all sitting around when we heard our cabinets opening and closing, and at first we were so confused. Finally my dad walked into the kitchen to see what in the heck was going on and 4 of his football players had walked into our home, into our kitchen, and started making themselves plates from Christmas leftovers and cookies. They were and are a part of our family.

He's bought them contact lenses to see the black boards in class and they've joined us at our Thanksgiving table, and really, the list could last for pages. Football has been my dad's life and it's been an amazing thing to be a part of. I learned what it took to get a 1st down, pass interference, holding, delay of game, off-sides, that 11 men should be on the field, and what a 4 3 4 defense is pretty early on in my life. I also played field hockey in high school so I could garner the attention of my father with broken hands, bloody noses, and busted lips.

Either way, the Phoebus - Hampton game has been a big one for the last, eh, 12 years or so. Like there are thousands and thousands of people that go and some don't get in big (even with the extra bleachers they install just for the game). I haven't been home for a game since my third year of college. So I'm going down to see my pops bust a move on Phoebus and I absolutely cannot wait. It's going to be just like old times ... no dinner before games because my mom gets too nervous (she can't eat until well after or her tummy gets a littttle rumbly), so Paul and I will eat a hot dog and scream and scream and scream until the clock hits 0:00. And that's when I'll give my dad a big, proud hug.

(About the screaming part; my mom sits in the top of the stands so she can't hear what people in the stands say about my dad ... whenever something bad happens he's always the bad guy and good, he is the good guy... Lisa can't handle hearing bad things about her man so she sits above it ... Either way, she is always one row beneath the camera that records the film my dad watches every Sunday. She is so obnoxiously loud, my father has not been able to listen to the ball games with sound for 26 years. Twenty - six years.)

When I was a little girl I used to complain about going to the store with my dad because people would always stop him and say "COACH ..." and only goodness knew what they would say, but it always seemed to take us longer to get stuff done. Looking back I realize that's because my dad and I both have no sense of time, and I also remember giggling every time someone would walk away because this would be the exchange: "dad, who was that?" "darlin', I have no idea." ... What I'm trying to say is I was always Coach Smith's daughter. And for so long I wanted to break free from that and make my own name. But you know what? I am so proud and even moreso humbled to say:

"That's My Dad, The COACH!"

GO CRABBERS!

Music to the Ears

... literally.

Please listen to Warm Whispers by Missy Higgins if you want your souls to be soothed.

You can thank me later.