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We kept in touch and she later told me about a new philanthropy that her sister Sandi started with some of her friends to raise money and awareness for the Southeast Alabama Medical Center Foundation. Sandi had been battling cancer for some time at this point. She said they couldn’t pay me to come down to play for the event but that they’d be willing to put me up for the night before the 6am call time to play some fun, upbeat music before the race starts at 7am. I’m always down to help with philanthropies, cancer in particular because of how pervasive it is. That?s how I thought about cancer, but I didn?t really know anything. Yet. I’d also never been to Dothan or played in Alabama at all before and so I said I’d do it.

Fast-forward to the evening I arrive and check-in to the Marriott in Dothan. Nice digs for my standards as far as spending the night somewhere is concerned. Very nice of them and up to that point I was talking with a pleasant woman named Valerie. So far, so good.

I don’t really get any sleep as hotel pillows suck in general and I’ve since learned to ALWAYS bring my own for the head-tilt-ratio I’ve grown to depend on for good sleep. No worries, I’ve done far more on far less sleep so I hit the shower and headed down to the Southeast Alabama Medical Center, the site of the Champions of Hope 5k. I was met by friendly faces who guided me to the stage to set up my sound and start playing. It was at this point that I first met Sandi. She seemed like she was doing ok but you could see that “recovering from chemo therapy” hair-do. That was what she looked like physically. What she talked like and put out in the universe from the inside was gentle, soft, and honest with a powerful spirit for good. I was taken with her immediately. Her immediate and extended family were also gems. Her mother, Joyce, was a cheerful woman with a tremendous zest for life and people. I could tell immediately where Sandi got it from. She and I have shared many jokes and Johnny Cash sing-a-longs. Who knew they’d have great taste in music too ;) I finished setting up and started playing as the racers gathered.

That year there were a few hundred people I believe. Honestly, I’ve lost track over the years, but I digress.

The race ended and I was still playing, then they started the ceremonies. Thanking sponsors, racers, organizers and an acknowledgement of the selected Chairperson for the year’s event, presented with regal accoutrements. That year it was Sandi. What a fighter I realized she was. Able to take on an adversity with the tenacity and brutality that cancer has, meet it head on and pour your heart and soul into helping others. That’s character. That’s guts. That’s Sandi. I later met many like her, but she was the first for me to put it all in perspective.

I thanked them for inviting me and they thanked me profusely for coming all the way from Atlanta to be a part of it. They think they benefited from me coming down there but it was only when I left that I realized that I felt I owed them. Valerie, Marti, Joyce (Mamasita, as I came to call her), Sandi and too many others too list.

With a week to go before my most recent Champions of Hope appearance I got a disturbing message from Valerie saying that Sandi wasn’t doing too well and that I should be prepared when I see her. I kept that in mind as I made the trek down south.

I arrived in Dothan with plenty of time to spare so, of course, I wanted to see the family clans associated with Sandi that I had grown so fond of so I swung by to see her. I swung by the Publix to grab some flowers for her as a clumsy token of affection and hopefully to bring a smile to her face. I was, as always, received with a smile, but I was not ready to see what I saw.

If it weren’t for her generous smile and sparkling blue eyes, I would not have recognized her. She was completely bald, emaciated, both breasts gone with the chords of an oxygen machine attached to her nose. This was bad. This was really bad. I swallowed my overwhelming sympathy for her and anger at her condition that had almost taken me over completely and replaced it with giving her a big, but cautious, hug and saying my standard saying to her: ?hello gorgeous?! She said how happy she was to see me and congratulated me on my recent appearances in Rolling Stone magazine as well as flattering things like “so you’re not too big to come to little ‘ol Dothan yet?” Like I said before, the pleasure is mine to be there with these people. There was talk of her not being able to make that evening’s Spaghetti Dinner to take place that night, the night before the actual race. I played it and she made it out. When I saw her at the event, she wore a cascading blonde wig, fabulous clothing (as is par for the course for Sandi) and doing her best to attend without oxygen but the cancer had different ideas.

The event was a pleasure with the usual cast of characters I adore seeing in Dothan. True salt-of-the-earth people and genuine in their love and generosity. An oasis in a desert when dealing with the business I’m in sometimes. I went back to my hotel to ponder and I decided to run in the race the following morning since I was only playing the night before this time.

I ran the race, saw some of the people I’d grown accustom to seeing as well as making some new friends. Not hard to do when the folks are like they are there. Sandi was there too. T-shirt and jeans, sitting at the survivor’s booth, cables to her oxygen machine attached. It must have been very difficult for her to be there physically, but try shutting up the spirit she had. Just try. That would be a futile endeavor, dear reader.

The race was run and I didn’t suck toooooooooo bad with a time of 21min. Happy to have been able to be a part. I said my goodbyes to folks and planned to get together with Marti and the family after showering at the hotel. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d see Sandi alive. I would have had more ceremony or would have paid more attention to the nuances of the moment. Smelled the air. Hugged her a little longer. I don’t know what difference that would have made but I suppose it’s easy to feel a void in hindsight.

So I showered and went to the house where she was asleep. The event really took it out of her poor body. I spent some quality time with the family and hit the road to Mobile, AL. My next tour stop.

A couple of weeks went by and I was in my car on my way to Atlanta from my house to discuss my new plans of recording when I got a message on Facebook: ?Sandi passed away today, I thought you should know?.

I was in total shock. I froze for several minutes, then started saying ?oh no? oh no??, felt my lip quiver and couldn?t keep it together for at least an hour. Panicked, I texted and called around to confirm it with someone, anyone as I was in total disbelief. Valerie called me back and confirmed the worst. She was gone.

We were sad but taking comfort in that she was no longer in pain. The burial plans came gradually and there was no way I was going to miss her service.

Sunday morning I made my trek back to Dothan to be at her service in the afternoon. I had no idea what to expect. I don?t have a lot of practice in this field to date.

I pulled up to the funeral home and was met by the old men who ran the home and then Marti. We hugged for a few minutes, I expressed my condolences and talked a little. I then walked inside toward the casket where I saw the families standing. I made my way to it, with flowers again which was another clumsy gesture to add to my roster. I went to Mamasita and gave her a big hug. Many of the people there who were much closer to Sandi than I was were thanking me for coming and told me how much Sandi loved me and how happy she would be to know I was there. It was very generous of them to say.

I then looked to my right and there she was. She looked beautiful, like a doll. She didn?t look real to me. Either that or I was in shock that that was Sandi and that she no longer had life in her. It was a shell that was deceptive in reflecting the content that was no longer there. I still, like always, turned to her and said out loud: ?Hey gorgeous?. It was a perfectly natural reaction for me and it broke my heart a little that she couldn?t hear me. I made my way to the family members who were dealing with the whole thing quite well, considering, and seemed to take turns consoling others like myself who had just shown up to this sight. I guess selfless strength runs in all their genes. That, and I?m sure they?ve seen her suffer more than anyone and were partly happy that she was no longer in excruciating pain. I can?t imagine what she had been going through all these years. I don?t want to.

The service went on and her friends and relatives spoke eloquently and emotionally about Sandi and her life. Laughter and tears. Tears and laughter. It was a packed house. There were people from all walks of life, of all ages and of all socio-economic statuses. It was clear that there was no shortage of people that Sandi touched with her message.

As of this year’s Champions of Hope, over $250,000 has been raised to help cancer patients in need. What an amazing accomplishment for all of the hard working people involved.

She had touched so many lives and convinced so many people that one person can unequivocally have a huge effect on the world. I hope that her gracious modesty took leave momentarily toward the end so that she could absorb the credit that she so richly deserved for what she had accomplished. She achieved more in her life as it was painfully slipping away from her than most people do in perfect health throughout the course of their entire time on this earth. I always felt that I was the type to take advantage of my time here and to be joyous and thankful for what I have, but I learned a lot through Sandi.

My involvement with cancer benefits started profoundly with Sandi but sure hasn’t ended there. Since meeting Sandi and encountering all of the folks I’ve known since her with cancer, it’s become a special cause for me to help with cancer research benefits where and when I can. Many of the people (women specifically) diagnosed with it have had tremendously positive attitudes. I’m so happy to see that. I’m sure, some day, we’ll have a cure for it.

Whenever I feel like I?m tired or complacent or that I?ve done all that I can, I think of Sandi (as well as other survivors I’ve met) and I keep moving. She is a template of courage. She is a template of strength. She is the Champion of Hope.

If there?s some life?s work that you?re fighting for or some wild obstacle that is tearing you from your life somehow, you can make it through. You can be better. You can do great things. You can make the world better than when you first got here. It?s always up to you what you do with your life. Have the strength to go for it.

Rest in peace, gorgeous. Your work here is done.

Sway | Wesley Cook

My new sounds

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Sway | Wesley Cook

The single off my new album ?New Ground?. I hope you like it and feel free to share with your peeps!

I’ve always attributed a lot of who I am as a person to my experiences in athletics in general, but none so much as Wrestling in high school and my brief dabbling in Mixed Martial Arts in College. I’ll do the Wrestling in Part 1 and the MMA in Part Deux.

Here’s how they break down for me.

I’ve always been a fat kid in my head. Yep. Always. I’m not sure where that comes from, I’ve always been athletic or at least I’ve thought I was.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a large household where you had to eat fast and a lot or you might not get any. That’s silly to think of but it’s possible that that’s how it started.

Maybe it’s because food has been a substitute for love in some ways in my family.

Either way, when you get a combination of inherently gluttonous with body issues, you tend to lean toward being a jock. I played soccer in Germany growing up and was always a fast runner.

My mom was pretty strict and protective growing up so I didn’t get to be on sports teams as much as I wanted to, or get to travel. Pretty overbearing and overprotective. I was pretty much stuck with Cross Country and the occasional Track meet, but hardly be part of a team sport. ESPECIALLY if that team had an away-game. Kinda kills the fun if you get good at something and can’t do half of the matches.

Then, one day, she moved away to the US while my older brother, my Father and I lived in Korea so that we could finish up high school there.

I was free.

As long as school was kept up, my father could care less what I get into. Good in some ways, bad in others, but I was so happy to be able to be a “normal” kid and get to playing some REAL sports.

Let’s rewind a little bit. When I was a kid in Germany I was (and my whole family was) routinely picked on and abused by the German kids and even faculty sometimes. They would call me racial names and beat me up sometimes. In the school system there and at the time, teachers would be able to beat your ass if you crossed the line. That wasn’t just against us, that went for everyone. Sometimes I felt that it may have been special for them to do it to us. I’ve always been a pretty good diplomat though, but it didn’t always work. Kids can be cruel regardless, but it’s rough when you’re that different from an intolerant group of fuckers.

Not much changed in Korea, except there, American’s were viewed as curious creatures. Some would see us as semi-movie stars and would always tell me about how they love my eyes. Others would think “oh shit, here come some more borderline-criminal army brats or dipshit GI’s come to harsh our buzz”.

Either way, there were plenty of times where I was chased or that the US news would tell Americans to either avoid certain areas due to anti-American protests or just stay the fuck home because the Koreans were pissed about something we did or supported.

Good times.

SO, I was always violently opposed to any bullying and thought, “I’d love to be able to whoop a bully’s ass”. Enter Wrestling.

I walked by a practice some time and I didn’t even mean to. I was leaving the gym from my first summer of trying to put on some muscle and saw a guy I knew in school practicing. He told me to come over and work out with them. I did.

It sucked A LOT but I like very difficult things and challenges. I found it.

My first coach apparently had gone to the Olympics to represent Guam. Coach Torres.

He was a smack-talker, very demanding, passionate, and a real hardass. Most of me thinks that he felt like he was finally in control in his life since he probably didn’t get it as an enlisted man in the Army.

He would drill us to death and the assistant coaches would be our sparring partners as well. Good guys, solid wrestlers and would be more informative than just barking maneuvers at you.

We would do squats, pushups, sprawls, burpies, situps and drill drill drill until we couldn’t see straight. I never threw up but I wanted to a couple of times.

It was time for the first match and I was terrified and excited. I had never experience anything like weight-classes and I was introduced to the science of “cutting weight” to wrestle smaller guys. I don’t think I had to do much that first season to cut weight so I was fine. It wasn’t always like that and I still remember my record of ringing out 16lbs in two days for a match. Not a good idea but youth can be dumb as hell, as is proven often.

For my first match in front of a lot of people, including my Dad, and I was a nervous wreck.

I mean, it’s war. I’m a peaceful person but didn’t know what I’d be like in a REAL setting where it’s me and him and that’s it. I went out to the mat, shook his hand and went at it.

I don’t remember how long it lasted, but he pinned me. I lost. I lost in front of everyone. I lost in front of my team, my school, the cheerleaders, my Dad and myself. I was devastated.

I went to the bathroom and beat the hell out of a stall door and just cried my eyes out. Not gracious, but I had lots of learning to do.

I went back and trained so hard and focused so much and swore to myself that I would do my best. Well, as much as I could as a smoker. I was trying to be cool and I always wonder how much farther I could have gone if I had been healthier. Oh well.

The next match was against another school. There were only 5 in Korea so there wasn’t a ton of diversity.

That match I went out and got intense. I got focused. I won.

No greater thrill had I felt up until that point. I felt my heart bursting with pride. There is no high like working yourself to death for something and having it happen.

That season ended and the next one was with one of the most influential people of my entire life. Coach Jeff Hammann.

I had never respected someone as much as I did him. He was an honest officer, great rapport, a tough instructor, a good man, solid work ethic and someone who you would gladly get your face smashed in for if his honor came into question.

He was my coach at first and later my dear friend.

I was captain both years that he was the coach. He coached us through good times and bad times. Through my highs and my crushing defeats. When I got out of line, he quickly corrected me. I got pretty good at wrestling on our little peninsula, but I probably would have been mediocre at best at a big American School.

One time, I was showboating with some techniques I learned and was really taking it to a teammate. Not in an acceptable way. It was aggressive. This teammate is one of my best friends in life and I was best man at his wedding to put it in perspective.

Coach said “wow those are sweet moves but you’re acting like a fucking jerk”. He wrestled me then and promptly whooped my ass. I’m not sure if that was the time it happened, but I think he fractured my nose or something. It’s bent funny when you push on it, to this day. Bled profusely. I completely deserved it though and I’m so glad that he did it. It still bothers me to this day for having been such a douche to someone I love do dearly.

Even beyond Wrestling, Coach was a rock for me. One instance in particular was above and beyond.

I had my little heart broken badly by a girl whom I had been going steady with for a few months. We would commute on trains to see each other as we lived in different cities.

I thought she cheated on me. Shaky intel (in retrospect) from a guy I didn’t know so well but was a fantastic story teller. I was in her city to visit her. I stepped outside to talk to our friend and left then and there. Destroyed me.

That was some of the most pain I’d felt in my whole life up to that point. I ended up tearfully hopping on a train at 3am from her city and ended up in mine around 5am with nothing more than my backpack and my guitar. No case, just a guitar. I had even written my first song for her. Not a good one, but a song.

I wasn’t positive though if what I heard her friend say was the truth and she was literally moving to the US the next day so I would likely never see her again. I couldn’t leave like that.

I was broke and I had just enough money to get me home. I got home but decided that I wasn’t going to let a half-story destroy the memory of my first and truest romance. I needed to get back to see her for closure, for something, for anything.

I had nothing and I don’t remember but I think I was alone at home.

I decided to see Coach.

I stayed outside his doorstep for hours at the base until he came out to go to work. He looked disturbed to see me in such bad shape. I was clearly very upset and I poured my heart out to him to tell him the situation. He said “we gotta get you back down there then. take this money and go get it done.”

He gave me what he had on him, which was enough. I thanked him profusely and swore that I’d pay him back at the next season’s first practice.

I did. It was paper money and change (to the penny) in an envelope that I handed him with his name on it. I said, “thank you again, Coach”. You could see that he was happy to have helped and we started getting ready for my senior year and last season of Wrestling at Taegu American School.

It’s amazing how much humanity you’ll find in places that you think may be odd. Wrestling is a sport of guts, determination, imposing will and being willing to take a beating for glory. What one forgets in the process, is that such an amazing amount of work can only be accomplished if there’s a passionate heart beating the blood into those moving limbs. A heart willing to risk everything for the possibility of winning some thing in the end. For yourself, maybe. For your team, maybe. To bring pride to your family, maybe. To feel like you’re alive, maybe.

It’s only in deciding to go down that road that you’ll find others who are like you. Those are the people you’ll learn the most from. You’ll find yourself in them, and they’ll get clearer on themselves though you.

Coach and I have lost touch since then. I’ve tried to look him up but with no success. But if we do ever meet again, there isn’t an envelope big enough on this earth to contain what I feel he has given me.

This story is a little delayed as this happened almost a month ago, but it hasn’t been written down yet so here it goes.

You see a tornado on the news that’s a mile-wide that’s tearing up a town. At first you feel shock and sympathy. You then realize that it could quite possibly head your way. Fear sets in quick. It did and it took some GA folks down with it, too.

After it was over and the news started to pour in about what the actual scope of the devastation and loss of life was, it really put it into perspective.

Now, I’m working hard to make my career a solid source of income for me and my people but we ain’t there yet. I am, however, all about some philanthropy and if someone feels as tho my playing music at an event will enhance it somehow, I’m happy to do it. I look forward to the day where I can write a check AND show up to play, but that’s beside the point. I cold-called the big shelter in Tuscaloosa to see if anyone had thought to have live music for the folks living in the shelter. The gal I talked to was Betty Davis. Not the actress, but I won’t forget that name either way. She was skeptical at first that I was trying to sell her something as some people had tried to take advantage of the desperate situation there with fraudulent schemes. What the fuck is wrong with some people!?!? I assured her that I didn’t want anything and that I was going to come play for them if they were interested. They were.

It was a Wednesday morning (one week after the tornado) and a dear friend named Ashley, who was a Bama Alumn and huge Tuscaloosa advocate, came with me. The ride down was filled with trivia about Tuscaloosa and about her wonderful experiences there, etc… The drive was pleasant, as she is a pleasant person. Then we got closer.

Large rows of trees looked like they were chopped in half by a crude device. These trees were not small. Highway signs were either gone or bent in half to where they were flush with the ground. Armies of trucks from GA Power were coming the other way and relief trucks were passing us on their way in. This was starting to get pretty real.

We pull into Tuscaloosa and pull into the shelter. Chaos.

I walk in past the racing red cross people, old women in wheelchairs, kids sticking to themselves and hand-written signage designating where food and medical aid was. It was more real but I still didn’t “get it”. Other people showed up in a bus from Texas to help as well as another crew from Louisiana. This wasn’t just a local emergency and it filled my heart with joy to see it.

It was clear that we were more in the way than anything so I said I’d come back to play for dinner once I found a lady who had heard of my coming to play. Ashley and I decided to check out the town until dinner which was 5 hrs away.

It got pretty “real” pretty fast.

We drove not 1/2 a mile from the shelter and then we saw the destruction. Ashley, who knows that town like the back of her hand, had no idea where she was. She remarked “I’m confused. From this intersection, you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to see those buildings (in the distance) but the buildings blocking the view are gone now.”

Entire city blocks were reduced to noting. Huge trees were pushed down with their roots exposed, which acted as a guillotine to the house it landed on. Signs were completely removed. Debris was everywhere. Cars were upside-down inside houses.

We drove to the next block over and it seemed as though nothing had happened. We then drove to the next block and there was total devastation. Unusual and spooky things to see. Nature does have a lottery it seems.

We drove to the University of Alabama campus to find there was not a bit of destruction there. Good thing too, there was a lot of history and beauty about the place. I see what Ashley liked about it. It was charming, old and full of tradition and pride. All things I like too.

We walked around and saw pieces of normalcy in that people were getting coffee, eating outside (it was a beautiful day) and hanging out. These were the remnants of the University which shut down the semester early in light of the disaster.

Any students who were left were scurrying around their fraternity houses collecting water and other essentials, loading them into their trucks and sending them in an assembly line to the shelter. Glad to see it.

It was time to head back to the shelter.

I arrived back, parked and loaded up my gear. A small space in the corner of the dining facility was cleared out for me to set up. People were happy to see me, but mostly unsure. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know what kind of music I do. They’re clearly a little uneasy about “outsiders” showing up but it’s only because some people are vultures. I knew what I was doing was going to be a good thing and I understand their apprehension.

I’m set up. The people start coming in. Time to play.

I can’t remember the first song I played but you could see half of the room light up and the rest of the room hovering over their food, collecting their families and trying to figure out what this dude in the corner was doing and who was he.

A lot of the crowd was older and you could see that they were all poor to begin with. There was no cousin in Memphis they could stay with. They had no parents who were well off enough for them to go live with for a while. These people were poor and had little to begin with and even less now. This was going to be their home indefinitely. I’m not a melancholy character to begin with and I felt the importance of what I was doing and they started to as well.

I played some classic songs that most of the knew. The whole room lit up. Everyone turned around as they were chewing, mumbling the words or melodies even if they didn’t know it. You could see that they had been to the point where they had inventory of what the tornado took. One week from when it hit was perfect timing. They aren’t looking for anything to salvage anymore. They aren’t looking for the missing people in their lives anymore. They know what they’re up against and now they’re dealing with the enormous challenges they will have to face.

You could see in their faces how badly they wanted to escape their situation, even if only for a little bit. One older lady toward the front cradling a tiny tiny baby was mouthing some of the words to a song. I invited her up to sing it with me. She accepted and didn’t leave my side but to feed the child a couple of times in the 2+ hour set.

Others joined me too. I told them what I was going to play and if you knew the words on not “get up here and sing with me now!”

Many accepted. Even little kids accepted. Of course, 4 year olds can’t sing “Down On The Corner” but they CAN sing their ABC’s. So that’s what we did. I cued them and they sang their ABC’s and “Itsy Bitsy Spider”. What great kids and they were so happy to have fun and be in the spotlight, so to speak, for possibly their first time. Same goes for everyone else who joined me.

I finished up my set twice but they insisted I go on. I stopped eventually and stayed and talked with some of the folks. The woman with the baby said “you have no idea how badly we needed that, thank you”. I felt myself tear up a little bit as I’ve never felt like that before as a result of music. I mean, of course I feel satisfaction in my art and in helping others or whatever. But it’s never quite felt like someone hasn’t eaten for days and then I show up with water and bread.

Ashley was there too and we all felt how magical the experience was. Difficult but amazing.

I will never forget that experience for lots of reasons. It was powerful, painful, touching, rewarding and reassuring in humanity. Everyone came to pitch in and I’m glad I could help however that might have been.