Well, I couldn’t just sit here and watch, now could I?

It took a village, but we did it! Twice :-)

It took a village, but we did it! Twice 🙂

One year ago today, after returning from a Spring Break outing with The Girls, we decided to cool off in the pool. As I watched them splash and frolic, I logged onto FB and saw disturbing status updates from my friends and family back home in Alabama. Things like “angry skies here” and “debris falling in my yard y’all”. Immediately, I jerked up the phone and called my sister in North Alabama. Luckily, I got through, but what I heard on the other end was soul-shaking. My big sister, whom I’ve always known to be a pillar of strength, was crying hysterically. My own voice cracked, as I asked “What’s happening? Is everybody in our family okay? What do you need?” 

That phone call changed my life. Forever.

Some of the most devastating tornadoes on record ravaged my home state of Alabama that day. This EF-5 skipped over my sister’s home, but made contact with the ground just down the road from her, tearing up an entire community, quite close to my brother’s home. But that wasn’t the worst of it. My niece, Meaghan, who taught middle school in Tuscaloosa, was literally in the center of the devastation, and my sister couldn’t get down there to her. A mother’s panic. I know that feeling. Fortunately, I am happy to report that her life was spared by a sheer miracle from God, while everything around her crumbled. However, when the dust settled, she would discover that many of her students had been effected, and life would never be the same. Never.

For those of you unfamiliar with what a tornado looks like, you can see the one that ripped through Tuscaloosa here. And the devastation and confusion left in Limestone County, where I grew up, can be seen here. So many small rural communities were affected though. Some completely wiped out...Hackleburg, and Phil Campbell, just to name a couple.

I knew I only had one choice: start gathering donations to send back home. So that’s what I did. Without a clue in the world how I would get them there, I began collecting clothing and supplies. I blasted on FB that ‘my people’ needed help, and arranged a drop-off point at the school my girls attended. My friend Jen Levinson, who is the genius behind Jen’s List, helped get the word out too. Donations began to pour in. In 72 hours, I had more than I knew what to do with.

My own family had just downsized into a new house three weeks earlier, after losing ours to foreclosure (which I will get to later, in a different post). So I had plenty of boxes. But they were full of our stuff. What to do? Unload our stuff onto the floor and put the much-needed supplies for the tornado victims in the boxes. Bingo! By the time the sorting and boxing at my house was over with, it looked like I belonged on an episode of Hoarders. I shit you not. 

Anyway, despite the rapid response of friends, and the kindness of complete strangers, I still had a very big problem: WTF was I going to do about getting the donations 2000+ miles across the country to their destination? After calling multiple shipping companies, AND the USPS to see if they would ship the boxes for free, like they did when Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, I pretty much hit a dead-end. I even contacted Charlie Sheen to see if he would be willing to bankroll it, since he was in need of some good PR at the time. At first the response was promising, but then he decided to donate a million dollars himself. Which let him off the hook. Soon, it became clear that I might have to rent a truck and drive them myself. Or rather, have The Man drive them 🙂

Then something wonderful happened. A friend from college, Spence Maughon, who saw my desperate pleas on FB, and who also happens to live in LA, sent me a message about another relief effort being organized here in town, in conjunction with Toomers for Tuscaloosa and RollBamaRoll. If you know anything about the history of Alabama Football, you know what a miracle it was for Auburn fans to be helping Alabama fans, because although both are state universities, they are bitter rivals on the field. Just Google “Iron Bowl. But I digress. A few emails later, I was in contact with the ring leader. A truly remarkable woman named Ashli Wolf. A kindred spirit who loves Alabama as much as I do, and knows exactly what a “church key” is. Over the course of the next few weeks, she would become my new best friend. She was already well into the organization of the T4T effort, so her house became Ground Zero. This is what it looked like in the days leading up to, and finally the night before the first truck left:

Tangible proof of the generosity of strangers.

Tangible proof of the generosity of strangers.

Even the kids did their part, learning a valuable lesson about helping and giving.

Even the kids did their part, learning a valuable lesson about helping and giving.

 

Friendships were formed during the wake of disaster. This is me and Mandi, sharing a laugh. She'll be a sister-friend for life.

Friendships were formed during the wake of disaster. This is me and Mandi, sharing a laugh. She’ll be a sister-friend for life.

 

We worked way into the night. And the next morning this stuff left on The Sunshine Express, bound for T-Town.

We worked way into the night. And the next morning this stuff left on The Sunshine Express, bound for T-Town. 

LITTLE DID WE KNOW, BUT THIS WAS JUST THE BEGINNING, FOLKS. 

Hauling pet food. Tornados effect everyone, you know.

Hauling pet food. Tornados effect everyone, you know.

Just after I snapped this photo, and while all the volunteers were busy sorting, boxing and getting this stuff ready for travel, The Man, decided to make a phone call. To Fox 11 News-LA. Just to give them the heads up about what we were doing out there in Woodland Hills. They sent Hal Eisner to cover us live, for the 10 o’ clock broadcast that night, and then sent Phil Shuman back out the next morning before the truck left. Needless to say, it opened up a few more possibilities to get help for the folks in Alabama. You can watch the clip here.

That is how California for Alabama was born. After the word got out about the FB page, we were flooded with tons of donations and volunteers from all over Southern California. Everything you can imagine, from hand sanitizer, toothbrushes and diapers to work gloves, shovels and cleaning supplies. Offers from a company in Moreno Valley poured in for free boxes to sort things into. Corey and Ruthie Braun, both UA Alumni, and owners of Chick-fil-A in Rancho Cucamonga, fed our volunteers. People donated entire apartments full of furniture. There was even an air hockey table!

So, how did we get it all there?

At first, the plan Ashli and I had was straight out of “I Love Lucy”. We were going to split the cost 50-50. She’d tell her hubs that I paid for it, while I told mine she did, just like something Lucy and Ethel would pull. One way or another, that stuff was getting there. Fortunately, Conway Trucking Company stepped in, and supplied us with a rig, a driver, and not one…but TWO 28 foot trailers to help with that, plus they covered the fuel costs! And again, Hal Eisner came out to cover the second round. 

People helping people, and belonging to each other. It just doesn’t get any better, does it? Powerful stuff to restore faith in humanity going on up in there, folks. And again, it didn’t stop once the truck rolled out of the driveway. In August 2011, with the help of Jennifer Blake, another sweet Bama Belle living in LA, we were able to hold a benefit and raise some money. With these funds, trees were purchased from Habitat for Humanity and planted where so many had been ripped from the soil. This made us, and Mother Nature happy 🙂

Poster from the Benefit

Poster from the Benefit

Me, Jen and Ashli explaining our mission.

Me, Jen and Ashli explaining our mission.

And cracking up like old friends do. Mind you, we'd all just met a few months earlier.

And cracking up like old friends do. Mind you, we’d all just met a few months earlier.

In closing, I would like to add that during all of this havoc, my oldest daughter was doing her required, 5th grade, state report on…you guessed it: ALABAMA. Not only was she able to report all the usual things needed to educate someone on the Great State of Alabama, she also included a section on how the tornadoes impacted the area and its victims. In addition, she told about how she, herself was able to directly help. The whole experience effected her deeply, and it was reflected in her report. Here was her display:

The best state report EVER.

The best state report EVER.

On this one year anniversary of the worst devastation Alabama has ever known, let me say I am beaming with pride to claim both Alabama and California as my home. I proudly display my Southern roots like a badge of honor as I journey through my Hollywood life. Today I salute you both!

xo,

The Calibamamom

*A very special thanks to my husband, Chris, who jumped onboard this effort with both feet, never once calling me crazy or saying it couldn’t be done. He stretched his time to its limits, juggling a busy work schedule with running the wheels off his truck picking up and dropping off people, as well as donations all over Los Angeles. HE MADE THE CALL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING. His love for me, and my home state was never more apparent than during this crisis, and his unwavering support will never be forgotten.

**There are so many people who contributed to this effort, both here, and on the receiving end in Alabama. Here is a list of those I didn’t directly mention in the post: my sister, Shane Jackson and her ‘boots on the ground’ crew from Churches Involved in Athens, Alabama; David Wolf and the precious Wolf children (Joseph and Ava); Kirsten and Jeff Mason, and their family; Sarah Rathburn Hancock; Michael Brock; Paige Ryan; Cliff, the driver of the first truck; Sara Dean and her man, Kevin; Aubrey and Matt Vick; Deborah Guilfoyle and her family; Kim Poirier; Kecia Newton and her hubby; Ryan Stephens and the United States Navy men stationed at Port Hueneme; Kelly Flores; the guys at Tosh.0; Margie; Kathy Krodel Chester; all the parents and staff at First Presbyterian Weekday School; Leslie Aqua Viva; Lori Nelson; Heidi Myers; Eric and Elise Gilbert; Victoria Vaccaro; the band, OK GO!; Alfred Hopton; Kit Wallace and Blued Eyed Entertainment; Karen Sinclair Drake and her amazing company, Sophyto; Ann Mangini & Rafinity; Tracy Flores and her man, Alec; the driver of the second truck whose name I never knew; and ALL THE OTHERS WHO CONTRIBUTED GENEROUSLY, WITH NOT ONLY DONATIONS OF TANGIBLE GOODS AND SERVICES, BUT ALSO THEIR TIME AS WELL.

God Bless You All.

Damn. I just tripped over a memory.

**I wrote the following essay 2-1/2 years ago, as a note on FB. Just stumbled upon it and thought it was blog worthy. The video above is from my work with Mimoda Jazzo Gruppa, although I have…sadly… since left the company 🙂 

As some of you may or may not know, I have been a dancer my entire life. Started when I was small….about 5 years old, I think….and just kept running with it. Straight on through a degree majoring in the art of it at the University of Alabama. Whew! You might think getting your Bachelor’s degree in dance was a picnic. I assure you, it was not. Worked my ass off. Lost both my parents while still in college, and graduated with a big fat, WTF, am I gonna do now?” sign handed to me right along with my diploma. OH….I CAN TEACH….right. I’ll be honest. I hate teaching, and truly admire people who can do it, because I didn’t get that gene. A flaw, I know, but I get too effing frustrated trying to teach people how to do something that comes so naturally for me. Makes me madder than a wet hen when I run into a student who can’t do it, or worse, a dancer who can’t follow choreography. So what if I like to use “creative visualization” as tool for teaching dance steps? Get over it, and follow my instructions.

So I simply avoid the task. Problem solved.

Of course, I had grand dreams of dancing professionally, in a company….in New York. Didn’t know a soul there, and didn’t have 2 nickels to rub together to create enough friction to get there. Much less, money to live on until I could find a job to support my dancing habit. Without a support network to speak of, I was terrified to go. End of story? Not quite. A ray of hope shined through, and a friend who lived in Los Angeles, offered me a place to stay until I could get on my feet. So I decided that was God’s way of telling me that California would be my new home. After all, nothing left for me in Alabama, really.

My biggest fans had passed, landing front row seats in Heaven. Time for a new audience. 

That was in June of 1996.

Cut to present day…I still reside in my “Land of Opportunity” aka Los Angeles. I’ve lived all over the city, from the beach to the Valley and several places in between. Met The Man a year into my residence here, played hard to get for 18 months, and then married him in 1999.

So what have I been “doing” for the past 10 years, you ask? Have I been dancing professionally? Um….no. Life took me in a different direction, and that aspiration got put on hold….for 3 excellent reasons. Their names are Sugar Bean, Butter Bean and Sweet Pea. But now, they are all in school, and I have a little time for myself each week. And life has once again begun to work in strange, yet exquisite ways. Which brings me to this…..

At 37 years old, after giving birth to 3 babies and being largely absent from dance class for 10 years, I decided to audition for a new dance company, and I was accepted. My goal of being in a professional company…checked off the bucket list. YAY!! I posted about this a week ago, and was elated over it for 48 hours. Then I made the very difficult decision to turn down the invitation to join. For reasons I won’t get into here. Suffice to say, I settled into the reality that simply being asked was good enough for me. Although, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about calling the artistic director, claiming a momentary lapse of reason, and groveling until he let me join.

But…..remember…..my life works in strange ways. 

The phone rang yesterday, and it was his assistant calling. To invite me to rehearsal. Guess they are still hashing out the details of who’s in, and who’s out…..and I got a reprieve. A second chance without asking. I was speechless, and it’s hard to render me speechless. Lol.

Anyway, I am chalking it up to divine intervention. God is trying to tell me something. He opened a window because I needed a way out, after someone else shut the doors. I closed the window because of a draft. Thought it was locked, but now He has thrown me the key.

I’m not stupid. I have my first rehearsal from 5pm to 9pm tonight.

Oh, and here’s something my sister wrote about me, I think is pretty relevant to this story. Enjoy 🙂

TINY DANCER by Shane Jackson

She captured the hearts of many; a hard life up ahead.

Found her heart was broken, her parents both were dead.

She dug deep into her soul, the strength she found within,

With high hopes and her tears, her journey did begin.

I stood there pleading loudly, “Please sweetheart stay with me.”

But I knew deep inside that, I was not what she needs.

So on my knees I prayed hard, “Dear God, please wrap her soul.

Protect my precious sister, on the road she chose so cold.”

Today the years have flown past, on each we’ve leaned quite hard.

Though loss of memory plagues us, our pain seems now afar.

She told me of a story, that brought her heart so near.

Each time she entered God’s House, out of nowhere tears appeared.

This tiny dancer sparks up and beams a sun filled glow,

To anybody she sees, and everywhere she goes.

To her family, and 3 children now, she plays the role of life.

God’s work upon this dancer, leaves you knowing God’s great might.

If ever you seem troubled, or feel your load to much to bear,

Remember the Tiny Dancer, who faced life’s utmost dare.

He’ll never leave you lonely; He’ll never stray away.

If you continue praying,

You’ll dance like her one day.

🙂 

Pajama Panic

Story of my life.

Story of my life.

Tomorrow is Pajama Day at The Girls’ school. It happens year after year, and inevitably, I experience the same freaking anxiety each and every time. Seriously. I need a mainline of Valium straight to my jugular in order to calm my neurotic ass down tonight.

While I should be excited that I don’t have to get them properly dressed in the morning, I am actually thinking…

“Fuck, fuck, double fuck! Who’s brilliant idea was THIS? He/she needs to be kicked out of the PTA.”

Why, you ask? Because my children wear the rattiest, most mismatched shit to sleep in you have ever laid eyes on. Comfy? Absolutely. Presentable to wear in public? Hell to the no! I have 3 girls, so pajamas are handed down and worn completely thread bare. Even MY pajamas are pathetic looking. Because nobody is actually supposed to see them. And I am horrified by the thought of my sweet angels being judged by their attire, and talked about in hushed tones by all the kiddos who probably have brand spanking new pj’s on tomorrow. Call me vain. Whatever. Kids are cruel. I know it, and so do you.

Nonetheless, I resisted the urge to run out today and purchase cool new pajamas for The Girls. That’s progress, right? Well don’t reward me yet, because I am seriously entertaining the possibility of letting them play hooky in favor of a Mommy/Daughters day complete with mani/pedis, or perhaps an educational outing to a museum or even a trip to the zoo.

Anything to avoid Pajama Day, for Pete’s sake. 

Ugh.

 

 

 

The blessing of a maple leaf

images

Los Angeles, 1997.

A guy walked up to the bar I was tending, and asked for …my best friend. Automatically, I kicked into BFF protection mode, answering his request with an interrogation. It went something like this:

Me: “E’s not working today. Who are you, and why are you looking for her?”  For all I knew, he could be a stalker. Or a process-server. Or a bounty hunter. Or…I don’t know….an IRS agent. We are actresses, living in LA for crying out loud.  Whatever. You get the point. If this guy wanted to reach her, he would  have to go through ME, and I wasn’t about to make it easy.

Guy: “Well, my name is JCD. I’m a film producer from Canada, and I’m staying here at the hotel on business. I met her a couple of nights ago while she was tending the bar, and upon learning she was an actress, invited her to an industry related party, but she didn’t show up.” 

Me: (sporting a deer-in-headlights look on my face) “Ooohhh. That was YOUR party we blew off last night? Oops. I’m Nancy, E’s best friend. Nice to meet you. Sorry we stood you up.”  (E asked me to go with her, but we tossed around the idea for too long, got distracted, and ultimately decided we were just too tired to go).

We shared a giggle at my blatant admission, and proceeded to chat for a couple of hours. Mind you, this was during a day shift at Skybar, while El Nino was in full swing, so the bar was empty and I had plenty of time to devote to making friends with customers 🙂 Lucky for me, because, during the course of our conversation, he invited me to a dinner party he was throwing for a few friends the following evening at the Conga Room. I didn’t flake, and several of the people who were in attendance that night are still close friends of mine to this day. One of the girls ended up being a bridesmaid in my wedding, and Sugar Bean was the flower girl at hers. From that friendship, other introductions were made, and what I like to refer to as “my friendamily” was born. The inner circles have blended, grown and blossomed, becoming concentric over the years. It’s a beautiful thing. There are a ridiculous number of people I feel blessed to have in my life (you know who you are), and they all landed there because of…

JCD 🙂

He is my very best, straight, unattached male friend, and has never been interested in me romantically. Never. It was that way from the beginning. We just became traveling buddies. He invited me to Palm Desert to a spa for a couple of days and I’d never been to one before. Then, he hosted me up in Canada for my first trip there EVER, and later was responsible for me being the only female allowed to attend a bachelor party weekend in Vegas. And for those of you wondering…NO…. I was NOT the entertainment. Just ‘one of the guys’, and it was priceless. In addition, he ignited my passion for watching live NHL hockey games by taking me to see the Toronto Maple Leafs vs. The NY Islanders at Maple Leaf Gardens, about 14 years ago. It was the first professional sporting event I’d ever attended. Lots of firsts. But that’s how best friendships are supposed to be, right?

Sometimes when people get married, their respective partners are opposed to them maintaining friendships with members of the opposite sex, and dear  friendships are lost. That was not an option with JCD and me. He was part of the package. So The Man married into the friendship, and they hit it off brilliantly. Now they even collaborate on film projects occasionally. When we are all together, I get to hang with the love of my life and my best guy friend. It’s a win-win all around!

The first time they met was at the Sundance Film Festival in January 1999, before The Man and I married. JCD rented a large house for the duration of the festival, and as a birthday gift to me (I’m a Capricorn–you figure it out), he invited us to stay there without paying a cent. We did, upon arrival, run out and stock the kitchen with groceries and the bar with liquor, because The Man felt we needed to contribute somehow. So there. After 8 days in Park City, where we partied like rock stars, and I learned to tumble down the slopes with a snowboard clamped to my feet, The Man and I, with JCD in tow, decided to route our flights home through Vegas. We stayed there for 4 days, gambling, eating at fancy restaurants and, finally, watching the Super Bowl. They were a Rat Pack duo, with a female chaperone…lol. After that, the plan was for JCD to come back to Los Angeles with us, and stay at our house while he attended to some business. Unbeknownst to JCD, while we were in Vegas, The Man and I had figured out I was…um…late. Therefore, we suspected there might be some big news to share upon our return to the City of Angels. As soon as we got home, we tested.

Sure enough, we were positive. 5 weeks positive, in fact.

Imagine what runs through your mind when you’ve just arrived home after 2 weeks vacation, having done everything you are not supposed to do while preggo, including but not limited to, tumbling down a hill on a snowboard–and finding out you are, in fact…preggo.  Yeah, I had those thoughts.

But I digress.

JCD was the first person we told. From that moment on, he was family. Plain and simple. Whether he liked it or not. Three weeks later, The Man and I were married, and JCD was the deejay. A fandamntastic one, I might add. His business negotiations in Los Angeles lasted almost 3 months, and he lived with us newlyweds for that duration. It was an adventure, I tell you! Unbelievable memories were made, including one about a Greek Easter party our neighbors threw on Malibu Beach, that needs a blog post all its own. I’ll get to it eventually. Promise.

Although I’ve known him for almost 14 and a half years, over the course of the last thirteen, he has been like a brother to both The Man and me, filling a role as vital oxygen does in our lives. He has listened to each of us bitch about the other, and never uttered a word or chosen a side. He’s witnessed emotional meltdowns over broken friendships, business partnerships, and finances. He has come to us with business opportunities, and kicked us in the ass when we needed it. But most of all, he has treated our girls like they are his own, always remembering birthdays and showering them with presents and attention. Last August, when Sugar Bean announced, just two weeks before the concert, that for her 12th birthday, she would like to see Adele perform live…he came through with stellar seats to a sold out show. Then, this past Christmas, which was a rather tight one, budget-wise, he asked what was on The Beans’ lists, and fulfilled the requests completely. He has worked miracles, and been Santa too 🙂

But it’s the little things that mean the most, and two days ago, he touched my heart with a totally out-of-the blue surprise related to something that happened a week ago. Something that didn’t go unnoticed, but deserved more attention than it got.

Last Monday evening, Sugar Bean found an iPhone4 lying on the sidewalk as we returned to our car after having dinner with family. Although she desperately wants one herself, her first instinct was to locate the owner and return it. The phone was pass code locked which prevented me from accessing the owner information immediately. So we took it home, with the intention of taking it into an AT&T store the following day. Around ten o’ clock that evening, it rang, and The Man answered. The owner was on the other end. He explained how our 12-year-old daughter  had discovered it, and insisted we return it to whom it belonged. The lady thanked him profusely, promised a reward and asked if they could meet ASAP, as “her life was on that phone.” The Man agreed and they decided upon a rendezvous point halfway between where we live and where she was at the time. It happened to be right smack where she lost it…or thereabouts. So he set out, iPhone in hand. Immediately upon arrival, he spotted the owner of the phone, but felt something amiss. There were two groups of guys engaged in what appeared to be a fight, and it was unclear whether or not the lady he was there to meet might be the cause. She hurried over, took her phone, thanked my husband and said there needed to be more people in the world like him. Then she jumped in her car and left. No exchange of names. No reimbursement for gas spent driving 20 miles to return it. No reward. Nothing. Just the act of doing the right thing.

The next morning, I posted a status on FB about what happened the night before. I was very proud not only of Sugar Bean for making the right decision, but also The Man and myself for successfully parenting her in a way, that led her to do the right thing instinctively, despite her own desire for the magical Apple device. Lots of friends ‘liked’ the post and commented on it. However, JCD truly went above and beyond.

Day before yesterday, an envelope arrived in my mailbox. It was addressed to Sugar Bean, and me. On the back it simply said, “From the Karma Fairy”. The only indication from whom it came, was the Canadian stamp. But I knew.  Inside the envelope was a note with the following words on it:

“Every good decision deserves a reward. Love, The Karma Fairy.”

In addition to the note, there were two ten-dollar bills. A reward.

Needless to say, it made her day, and mine.

So.

I want to publicly thank JCD for his totally unnecessary, yet immeasurably thoughtful gesture.

“JCD…You are without a doubt one of the kindest, most thoughtful, honest, sincere, trustworthy and loyal human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Life would never be the same without you, and we are blessed beyond comprehension to have you as part of our family. We love you to the moon and back.” 

xoxo,

Nancy (and The Tribe) 

Perfectly stated.

Perfectly stated.

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