Connie Fortunato

Friday night we arrived on the dot for a concert given by Connie Fortunato and the children from the Cluj city dump. This is a powerful story. For a few years now she has breathed new life in the community, with her freedom, lack of social boundaries, joy and vision, all paired with impressive know-how.

Right after we drove her to a fundraising event at Marty Sigma. Driving over I gave her a gift from Brian and Karen, the Travelogue of the Interior. We realized that she lives on Grand Canyon Road, between Santa Cruz and Scots Valley, the place where Conrad and I nearly bought a house a couple of years ago. I realized that many of my training customers, her close friends, have talked to me about her and she had my Apple business card planning to come meet me at some point. What a small world.


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Sharing about my dad made me think of my childhood further.

I remembered how my mom never showed impatience when I cried. Not sure if everyone is the same, but I vividly remember crying in the car when I was 4 and I was crying because I was hot and uncomfortable. Or as a 3-4 year old I got my fingers trapped in the door at a dentist office. And I remember my stubby little fingers and the hot tears on my face. There was always room for my crying. My mom would whisper calming in my ear holding me. Never impatient. My tears and me were never too much.

It is a little disturbing how aware I was of myself so early on. But I say, it is never too early to start treating kids like adults in becoming, respect them and demand respect. And let them cry when they need to cry.