As we rushed out of the house, headed to a surprise party, Matt asked “Can we stop at the store and drop of the recyclables”? Looking at the time, I agreed and off we went.

When we got to the store, Matt jumped out and headed to the back of the car. I hit the button to proactively open the door for him and in true dad fashion felt compelled to state the obvious.

“Matt, make sure you scan the bag before putting it into the bin.” I stated.

“OK.” Matt replied.

As he pulled the bag out of the trunk, several bottles fell onto the ground.

Again, in true Dad fashion…

“Matt, make sure you tie the bag tight before you put it in the bin.” I yelled. No reply as the door slowly closed. Did he hear me? Well, I better call him because God forbid 15 cents worth of bottles fall out. LOL

“Hello.” Matt answers.

“Make sure you tie the bag tight.” I repeated.

“Yeah Dad.” I heard you Matt replied.

“Great. Thanks Matt.” I hung up, satisfied that he had been trained on properly on the “how” of returning recyclables to the store. LOL

As I sat and waited, my impatience grew. The recycle bin is literally 20 steps into the store. What is taking so long? I guess I better text him.

“Matt, what’s up?” I texted. No reply. As I typed the next text, suddenly out he comes.

Now before we go any further, it must be stated. Matt is 15 and has done this alone many times. My “perceived guidance” on the “how” of this process is clearly overkill and if I’m honest, completely unnecessary.

As he gets in the car, again, I cannot help myself.

“What took so long?” I asked.

“Well, I wanted to check and see how much money was on the account. Since there was only $8 and change, I decided to just get $5 to leave some for next time. When I went to counter for the money, there was line of people. A little old lady noticed all I needed was to turn in my receipt and she let me cut the line. As she let me go ahead. I thanked her and she said “of course, I would hope someone would do the same for me someday.” As I turned in my receipt for the $5, I thought why not give her the $5 for letting me ahead of her. So I did.” Matt said nonchalantly.

(Insert jaw drop)

As I set there worrying about the “how” of returning $5 worth of bottles, had I missed the bigger picture? Had Matt in fact just taught me something even more important? The importance of being kind, helping others and paying your blessings forward.
Next time I’ll worry less about “how” he returns the bottles and more about the “man he becomes” as a result of returning the bottles.

Be kind.
Help one another.
Pay it forward.

Although everyone doesn’t practice Lent or share their faith in the same way, I firmly believe that taking a period of prayer, fasting and almsgiving as Lent prescribes, gives us time to reflect, time to prioritize what matters most and time to put our faith back at the center of our lives. A time to “empty the jar” so to speak. After the challenges of the last 2 years, I cannot think of a better time for the beauty, perspective and focus that the Lenten Season invites us to explore starting this week as we journey towards Easter.

As a Catholic, the practice of Lent is part of our faith. A time of prayer, fasting (sacrifice) and alms giving. A time of reflection, a time to refocus and a time to prepare for the resurrection of Jesus on Easter.

As a child and even young adult, I never really appreciated this ritual and only associated pain with fasting or what most call “giving something up”. My thoughts always began and ended with “Well, what do I give up this year?” This mindset of only associating Lent to “sacrifice” (pain) prevented me from seeing the real beauty and purpose of the Lenten Season until one day…

It was a normal Sunday. Well, by normal I mean my motivation for attending church was sadly out of obligation. It was the Sunday before Ash Wednesday…just days before Lent begins. I’ll admit, I am not really sure what happened. All I know is as Father Rodino began his homily, I was captivated more than usual. Don’t get me wrong, I always loved listening to his homilies and admired his ability to relate the Gospel to our everyday lives but today was different.

He wasn’t alone. Up on the altar he was joined by children carrying 3 mason jars filled with what appeared to be different sized marbles. I could tell from the start this was going to be symbolic in his homily. My curiosity began to rise. As Father motioned, the children chaotically attempted to combine the jars of different shaped marbles into one jar. It was quickly clear it couldn’t all fit as the marbles began to spill out and bang around on the altar and floor. As the children frantically tried to collect the marbles, I could see people shift in their seats, whispering to each other… “what is he doing?” Father said nothing, but I could sense from his body language that he almost regretted his decision to use this metaphor to make his point this week. Nonetheless, he now had our full attention and faithfully forged ahead with his homily.

He began” You see, the jar represents a vessel…the vessel of our minds, bodies and spirit. And the marbles represent the things we “fill this vessel up with” like worry, stress, materialism, faith, overscheduling, pride and greed.” He went on to say that over time our lives(vessels) can become so cluttered and “overfilled” with the wrong “stuff” that we cannot add anything else. It is at this time that we can lose focus and hope because what really matters can no longer be “fit” into the center of our lives (God). He paused…

Again, Father motioned to children. This time instead of randomly adding the marbles to a jar, the children slowly emptied the jars, this time carefully and quietly, separating the marbles into 3 sizes…large, medium and small. Then thoughtfully the children added the largest marbles first, then the medium sized ones, then the smallest to one of the jars…this time they all fit! Father went on to explain that for Catholics, Lent is a time to clear our minds, to declutter our lives and to prioritize what matters by turning back to God and “putting Him in the jar first” (largest marble). By first doing this, He is at the “center” of our lives, enabling us to properly fit everything else that matters around Him. In other words, the Lenten practice of prayer, fasting and alms giving helps us “empty our jar” and return to God.

This image and metaphor has stuck with me for over a decade now and always reminds me how important the Lenten Season is. I’ve told this story countless times to friends and family, but felt compelled this year to capture it in my blog as we begin Lent today. Thank you Father Rodino. You changed the way I see Lent. The way I see life. The way I see the importance of “emptying my jar” and putting God at the center as we prepare for the resurrection of Jesus on Easter.

May your “jar” be filled first with what matters most…

Yesterday, with the incredible support of family, friends, sponsors, colleagues and GE, I ran 26.2 miles to honor the 1 in 26 that have epilepsy, registering 126 Matty Moo Teammates and raising almost $15,000 in donations for the Epilepsy Foundation of Northeastern NY. Like anything in life, this took a “village” to achieve and I am so blessed and grateful for everyone’s support!

The weekend started with a 1.26 mile Walk to End Epilepsy event on Saturday, flawlessly planned by my wife Amy where friends and family enjoyed time outside, purple cupcakes, mimosas and great conversation. Then early Sunday morning my brother-in-law Rich picked up my nephew Dylan and I at 6:45am to bring us to the start line where we would start the race together. The weather cooperated and was cool and crisp, a perfect Fall day in the northeast. Amy and Matt served as my “pit crew” bringing me water, food and the “all important” pickle juice to prevent cramping. At mile 13, my daughter Megan and her roommate Crocker surprised me by driving 3 hours from Boston to cheer me along the rest of the race! Matthew thankfully joined me for the last 5 miles, keeping me going and distracting me from the fatigue and pain. The day finished with me beating the 6 hour cutoff time (phew!), making new friends along the way and a wonderful home cooked meal made by my mother-in-law Carolyn and wife Amy.

In the end, “We” did it….it truly took a “village”.

Many thanks to everyone for making this event an unbelievable experience and helping us get one “step” closer to finding a cure to End Epilepsy and to support those in need.

If you missed the original post and still want to help, see below: https://lnkd.in/gp23hKmz

FRANKLIN – Richard Martin Rumenapp, also known affectionately as “Rick”, “Ricky” and “Rubber”, age 72, passed away unexpectedly but peacefully with family by his side Saturday, May 1, at Albany Medical Center.

Rick was born at Fox Hospital in Oneonta, on January 13, 1949, to Henry and Hilma Aleksa Rumenapp, immigrates from Germany. As a teenager, he enjoyed raising beagles, working in the garden, going hunting and driving his cars. He was a graduate of Oneonta High School in 1968. First working on a farm, then at the Jamesway Shoe Store and finally 40 years in multiple jobs on the Railroad including Penn Station in Selkirk, D&H in Oneonta, NYSW in Cooperstown, and D&H CP Rail in Binghamton. He spent his entire life in New York State, living in Oneonta, Milford and the last 35 years in Franklin.

He was proudly a Life Member of the NRA, past member of the Crumhorn Oneonta Sportsman Club, the Milford Fire and Emergency Squad, the Eagles and Elk Clubs, and the American Legion. He was an American Red Cross Blood Donor for decades, preaching the importance of changing his own “oil” to save the lives of others.

He loved the Steelers, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, watching the 3 Stooges and MASH reruns, gardening, the Old South and Gettysburg, breakfast at Morey’s with friends, Cans and Clams with Dave Lane, Wednesday lunches with his brothers Frank and Heinz, hunting at Fred’s cabin, watching the sunset from his backyard, his 1973 Dodge Charger with Ooga Horn, raft trips down the Delaware with Glen and Janet, Sunday rides on country backroads, but most of all he loved his wife Ginny, playing with his grandchildren and spending time with his family.

He was a meticulous home owner, an avid hunter and loved watching the birds at his feeder. He collected guns, coins, stamps, trains, and Hess trucks for kids and grandkids. He loved to have a good time and always encouraged others to do the same. He drove us all crazy listening to the fire/police scanner, playing loud music, chasing deer from his backyard and complaining about politics. He loved Halloween, trick or treating with the grandkids and decorating the front yard year after year.

He is survived by his wife, Ginny Carey Rumenapp of 12 years; son Derrick (Amy) Rumenapp; and grandchildren, Megan and Matthew; daughter, Katie (Jason) Haag; and grandson, Ryan; stepchildren, Carey, Shannon, Kelli, and Daniel Patrick; a total of 13 grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren; In-laws, Ron and Nancy Lane, Mel and Birdie Painther, William Carey, Mark and Verna Jones; brother, Frank Rumenapp with nephew Josh Rumenapp and niece Jillian Eastman; and also sister Zillah (Jim) Frampton with nephew Jeff and niece Alissa.

Rick is predeceased by his mother, Hilma; father, Henry; and brother Heinz.

In celebration of his life, calling hours will be from 5 to 7 p.m., Friday, May 7, at the Bookhout Funeral Home located at 357 Main Street, Oneonta, NY. Funeral services will be held at 11 a.m., Saturday, May 8, at the Bookhout Funeral Home officiated by Joe Digorri. Due to COVID restrictions, please wear a mask and respect social distance requirements.
In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in his honor to the Epilepsy Foundation of Northeastern, NY in Albany or to the St Jude’s Childrens Hospital, both causes he cared about deeply.

Dad’s Final Message: “I had a good time on Earth. See ya all on the other side!”

My mom’s unexpected passing last fall has been a challenging adjustment to say the least. Settling her estate, making arrangements, taking care of my kids as well as my own emotions has been overwhelming. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to decompress which has led to a deep sadness and mild depression including a feeling of loneliness and even anger some days. A recent visit to her house has helped changed my perspective…

Mom didn’t want a traditional burial. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes sprinkled in her flowerbeds in front of her house. We joked for years about how difficult that would be emotionally but in the end, we honored her wishes and did it in a heartbreaking private ceremony with Amazing Grace playing in the background. What remains of her ashes are kept safely in a beautiful white urn, painted with pink peonies (her favorite flower) set on her bedroom dresser with a cross hanging from it and a sign that says “#1 Grandma in the World. “

Now when I return home, I always visit the urn first. Upon entering her room, I say “ Hi, Mom”. I hug “her” and kiss “her”. I tell her I have missed her and that I love her…just like I have done throughout my entire life. I do the same upon leaving.

In a recent trip home, I whispered “come see me tonight”. My sister Kate had talked about mom comforting her in dreams many times since she passed and I was jealous! Mom had “visited” me only once since her passing and in my childish mind I was now saying, “It’s my turn, Mom!”

I don’t know what I was expecting. I just made the request for her to come visit me. Would she come in a dream, as an apparition or in a form I wouldn’t recognize? As I drifted off to sleep later that night, I had forgotten about the request.

Waking in my childhood bedroom the next day is always a surreal experience. Staring at the same ceiling and four walls that watched me grow up, feeling the heat drift through the baseboard and listening for mom’s bedroom door creak open as she shuffled down the hall to make coffee always stirs up memories.

Only this time, mom’s door didn’t creak open that morning. The reality of “where” I was in life settled in slowly, sadly. As the sun began to peek through the window, it seemed to urge me to get up, and to go make the coffee for the next generation that might be “listening” for a creaky door. I slowly rolled over, rose and sat at the edge of the bed and got dressed.

As I went to make the bed I saw something. It was small, on top of the comforter, exactly where I had been laying. What was it I thought? Upon closer inspection, it was a lady bug. It was alive and moving towards me. It’s red colors and dark spots were unmistakable.

“Mom. Is that you?” I said softly. My mind racing. What now?

I leaned over and gently pressed my finger on the comforter and let “her” climb into my hand. Once on my hand, she stopped. Time was frozen. We stared at each other. Suddenly, I felt compelled to walk down the hall and awkwardly make coffee with her in my hand. As I had requested, “she” had come to see me and even helped me make the coffee one last time. Soon after she flew away. I couldn’t find her again but was at peace with her visit.

I have no way of knowing for sure, but I believe it was mom. You see, ladybugs had become symbolic in her life. In addition to the lady bug trinkets in the house, real lady bugs would always “visit” in the spring and fall. Now deep in the winter, it was rare to see a ladybug, let alone find one lying next to me unharmed during sleep. It certainly could be a coincidence with me asking her to visit me, and the lady bug appearing, but I believe it was her honoring my request to visit me.

Things in life aren’t always what they seem. What we ask for isn’t always given in the form we expect. Sometimes, we must take the time to “look closer” at what is and has happened, and realize that although it might not be what we wanted or “requested”, God is giving us exactly what we need. And just like mom and the lady bug, He is always with us…all we need to do is ask and be open to “look closer”.

As we packed up and began to leave the house, I again stopped in, hugged “her” and with a childish smirk on my face said:

“Thanks Mom. I love you. I miss you you. “See” you soon. Let’s see Kate beat that one! ?

The sound of the Facetime shattered the morning silence.

It was Megan. It was 7am. Nothing good has ever followed a call this early from her. Nothing. At 16, it was a car accident shortly after getting her license. At 18, a season ending ankle sprain her freshman year of college. My mind raced. Now what?

Hoping for the best, I put a smile on my face and answered:
“Well, something must be wrong if you’re calling us this early…what’s up?” I said half joking.

Silence.

“Where’s mom?” Megan blurted out, tears in her eyes and crying.

“She’s in the shower. What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“No. I tested positive for COVID.” she exclaimed.

“Ok. Ok. Try to stay calm. Let’s discuss what this means…”

Meaning.
I’ve come to believe that it’s the meaning we give to life’s “storms”, not the “storm” itself that determines the quality of people’s lives. Meaning shapes our perspective, our reaction, our reality and our life. Ultimately, meaning is a choice.
For Megan, this “storm” (COVID) meant fear and uncertainty…but most of all, isolation from family, friends and the sport she loved. She was panicked and at 200 miles away, we needed a safe plan fast!

“Should we bring her home?” my wife asked.

“Probably not unless we want to expose ourselves. Plus, Matt wouldn’t be able to go into school for at least 10 days afterwards and we would all need to be quarantined,” I said in frustration.

“Right. How about you and Matt stay at my mom’s and I’ll stay with her here at our house,” my wife suggested, desperate to find a solution.

“No. I don’t want to take a chance with you getting it either or having to be quarantined for another 10 days somewhere else. Too risky to me and we would never forgive ourselves if something bad happened to any of us, ” I asserted with concern.

“Ugh! There aren’t many good options. Let’s talk to Megan,” she replied.

With us being 200 Miles away and a primary caregiver for my mother in law, it was decided that Megan would stay at the campus provided quarantine housing… alone, for 10 days. Not perfect, but the best of all options.

The journey had begun. The question was what meaning would we each associate to this “storm”? Would we choose to find an empowering meaning in the path ahead or be consumed by fear, anger or paralysis?

As her mild symptoms began to disappear, a deep loneliness began to set in…a strange place, all alone, all day was taking its toll on her. Thankfully her life wasn’t at risk, but the meaning she was giving this “storm” was beginning to impact her mindset.

“I can’t do this for 7 more days! This is terrible!”, she cried aloud.

“You can do it,” my wife reassured her over FaceTime. (Thank God for technology.)

This desperation went on for days 3 through 5. We felt helpless as parents. Like we had to choose the lesser of two evils. Having her self-isolate was the right decision for the safety of everyone but it still was hard to know she would be alone for 10 days to deal with this. Thankfully she wasn’t sick.

“Dad, I need something to do. I have too much time on my hands. Can I do one of your coaching programs?” she eagerly asked.

Gleaming with pride I answered…

“Great idea. I have a new one that I would love to share with you. It’s actually a 10-day program and perfect for this situation. It’s called RESILIENCE: 10 Steps to navigating, adapting and growing in life’s storms.

“Great. Send it to me!” she said.

Over the next 10 days, she walked through my 3 building blocks of Self Love, Self-Awareness and Self Discipline. She learned 10 new habits to prepare and empower her when faced with adversity in her life and how to find an empowering meaning in any “storm”. These will require ongoing practice, and forms the habits needed for building resilience into our lives during good times and bad.

Megan has since returned to “normal” college life, thankfully with no long term symptoms or cardiac complications as far as we know. This storm may be over, but the meaning she gave to this experience and the habits she developed as a result will forever be a part of her. May God bless those still battling COVID and bring peace to those that have lost those they love.

As the Thanksgiving holiday approaches, I cannot help but think about my mom and how this year we won’t “see” her. It certainly will be different as her sudden passing has left a hole in our hearts and an “empty” seat at the table. Yet, as I reflect more, I am so grateful for what I have “seen” this year and no matter how long it will be until I “see” her again, I still “see” her everyday and everywhere.

We Still “See” You by Derrick Rumenapp

We see you in our children
We hear you in our speech
We witness all your wisdom
In the values that we preach.

We model your behaviors
We remember all you did
The sacrifices made for us
From when we were just kids.

We see you in the flowers
We hear you in the chimes
The lessons that you taught us
Are forever in our minds.

The recipes you passed down
The love you always gave
The time we spent together
Are the memories that we’ll save.

Your time with us has ended
But still you feel so close
Your pretty smile and tender touch
Is what we’ll miss the most.

Mom – you are forever in our hearts, forever in our minds, and forever in our “sight”. We love you. #Gratitude

Until we “see” you again…

Life is short. How will you spend it? What will you do? Who will you help? What impact will you have on others? What is the purpose of life? All questions I was faced with when I sat down to write my mom’s obituary after her sudden death…

MILFORD – Carol Ann Ferguson Rumenapp, 72, passed away unexpectedly but peacefully with family by her side Wednesday, Sept. 30, 2020, at her home in Milford.
Carol was born in Weehawken, New Jersey, on Oct. 1, 1947, to Glen and Antonette “Rita” Ferguson.
As a child, she enjoyed spending summers with family in West Virginia, riding horses, watching logging competitions and playing along the creek with her brother Glen, where she earned the nickname “Crock-A-Do Lolly.”
She then went on to live most of her life in upstate NY on Edson Corners Road.
She was a graduate of Milford Central School and pursued public service as a career, working in the Otsego County Probation Department, Otsego County District Attorney’s Office and serving as the Milford Town Judge for decades where she touched lives and hearts with her wit, humor and intellect.
As a single mom, her life was a lesson in strength, resilience and perseverance. She taught us the importance of getting up early, being grateful for what we have, working hard, helping others, living in the present, spending wisely, continuously learning and always putting family and God first. Values to live your life by…
She loved taking care of her flowers and growing vegetables, cooking for friends and family, maintaining a beautiful home and helping others whenever she could. Most of all, she loved being a mom, spending time with her family and spoiling her grandchildren. Smart, driven, loving, responsible, funny, generous, hard working and beautiful are words often used to describe this incredible woman. Her impact is undeniable and she will always be with us.
She is survived by her best friend and life mate, Tim Knapp; son, Derrick (Amy) Rumenapp; daughter, Katie (Jason) Haag; the apples of her eye, her grandchildren, Megan and Matthew Rumenapp and Ryan Haag; brother, Glen (Janet) Ferguson; niece, Melissa (Mark) Silver and nephew, Glen Ferguson III; and nieces, Sarah Murray and Emily Silver.
In celebration of her life, a small private gathering will be held at her house per her wishes.
Donations in her honor may be made to the Epilepsy Foundation of Northeastern NY in Albany.
We miss you dearly mom. Thank you for everything. We love you to the moon and back “Gaga”.

What will “yours” say?

As I stood on the shore gazing across the water, a woman walking by abruptly stopped and asked “what are you looking at?”

I paused, taken off guard  by the question. 

“The lake”, I replied. 

“Why, is there something out there?” She asked.  

Again, I paused. Surprised by her question and more surprised that she didn’t see “it”. Admittedly though, it wasn’t the most colorful sunrise. Gray clouds filled the sky with only a narrow strip of pink light off in the distance.  

“No.  Just looking at the sunrise…the pink is so beautiful .” I said. 

“Oh”, she said, almost disappointed at my response. Taking another look, she squinted her eyes, quickly agreeing as she continued her walk. 

It made me wonder…how many spectacular things do I overlook each day due to busyness, worry and distraction in my life. How many things do I under appreciate because a fancy Snapchat, Instagram or Foodie filter wasn’t used to enhanced or alter God’s original beauty.  Could I too be missing the “pink light” in my life?

Make time today to see with your own eyes.  Time to notice your surroundings. Time to be grateful for the wonderful world God given us…filter and worry free. You too might find and even become “the pink” light in someone’s otherwise gray day.

Be the light.

I love the lake. Each day my morning routine includes getting up at sunrise and walking to the lake near my home. This 3 mile loop is when I do my best thinking and primes my mindset with “gratitude”. Gratitude for my life. For my blessings. For my family, friends, health, career and so much more.

One morning, my daughter decided to join me. As we chatted and walked nonchalantly along the meandering path of the lake, a father with his young son approached from the opposite direction.

“Hello, good morning”, I said with a smile.

“Good morning”, he replied with equal enthusiasm.

“How are you guys?” I asked, expecting the normal “good” reply.

But before the father could reply, the child, almost instinctively responded, “I’m thankful”.

The father smiled and said, “we are good, how about you”?

I was stunned and I’m sure my expression showed it.

Did a 4 year old just say “I’m thankful”? How had he learned something that took me almost 50 years to realize?

“Well, that’s a great way to be”, I replied clumsily. Have a good day.

Megan and I finished our walk that morning, sharing our amazement at the little boy’s statement and the impact he had on us.

Later that week, again on my normal morning walk, I ran into the father again. I told him how impressed I was with his son’s response of “thankful” and how rare that seems to be in the world today.

He smiled, beaming with pride and humility and said “thank you, we try”. At that moment, something my mom always said came to mind:

“Derrick, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I’m not sure who originally said this but it captured the essence of the moment and the importance of modeling our values to those around us, especially our children. And how we are the tree and they are the “apples”.

I see the father almost daily now on my walks. He always waves and says hello…smiling at me almost like we now share a secret about life, the importance of gratitude and growing our “apples”.

What are you grateful for? Are you intentionally modeling your values to your children? Do they see this?

In other words, how are your “apples”?