Our definition of the word volunteerism has changed during the course of our MORE-Than-me book project (http://www.more-than-me.com/) Our current way of thinking is that anything that is outside of yourself--"more than me" thinking--can be considered volunteerism. This includes simple acts of kindness.

A recent example of this involved someone in our own family (Eric's cousin) as the recipient of such an act. This story has moved us so much that we want to share this special video with you from the Today Show. Without giving away too much, let's just present the video here and let you watch for yourself. Whether your lives have been touched by autism or not, we think you will be moved.

Enjoy!  --Kelly and Eric

Today Show Video: Teen Athlete Mentors Autistic Boy

You can read more about these two special boys and their families here:

Daily Herald: Jackson Hirsh Friendship Means the World to Both

Daily Herald: Gesture of Friendship Lands St. Charles Students on 'Today'

There are four little words I never wanted to hear on my birthday.

How old are you?

No, those aren't the words. They are much more sinister.

Would you mind babysitting?

Bingo.

I should probably start with a disclaimer here. I love babysitting our nieces and nephews. It's fun to spoil them, rile them up, and then give them back to their parents. But on my birthday?

That was my first reaction, too. But then something unusual happened.

"Why not?" a voice said. It turns out that voice came from me. It was an out-of-body experience, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't take it back.

"Are you sure?" Eric asked skeptically.

"Why not?" I repeated like a person possessed.

Of course, when my birthday actually arrived the next week I started feeling a little sorry for myself. I can't believe I have to babysit on my birthday. At least they're both potty trained by now...I think...I hope. Aw, man. Me and my big mouth. [Note: That doesn't matter, I always change the diapers, anyway. -Eric.]

"Happy birthday!" Jessie and Grady squealed when we arrived. Then, they immediately started rushing around the living room to show us their toys and tell us everything that had happened in their busy lives since the last time we saw them. These kids have a lot going on, so that took awhile. Their enthusiasm was catching, and I found myself getting butterflies in my stomach. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad birthday after all.

Jessie and Grady raced to their mom's bedroom and zoomed back with a pretty gold package for me. The present revealed a beautiful pink necklace that I put on immediately. (Sarah has great taste.) Then Jessie decided that she should let me borrow one of her treasured plastic rings for the day--since it was my birthday and all. She ceremoniously handed me a clear plastic band that I placed reverently on my pinky finger. It took me awhile to realize it was the shape of a foot. I felt honored.

Next, Grady showed Eric his Batman paraphernalia, and Jessie led me downstairs to her secret hideout in the basement. She climbed into a brightly-colored nylon tent and spoke to me of very important secrets through the small flap opening.

"I'm going to marry Sam," Jessie told me.

She started kindergarten this year, and everything is new and exciting, including all of her new friends. She told her grandpa on the phone just a few weeks ago that she is "soooo smart now." And she is.

Anyway, I asked her about this Sam fellow.

"Why do you like Sam?"

"Because...he's jolly!" Jessie grinned at me through the nylon flap. Then she drew a picture of the two of us on the special paper she had hidden in her fort. I had to wait for it, but a few minutes later she shoved the page between the opening slot in her tent and shook it until I received my second gift of the evening. Hey, this birthday was getting better by the minute.

Just as Jessie handed me her masterpiece, Eric and Grady showed up. Grady gave us a tour of his fort (another brightly-colored tent right next to Jessie's), and then we decided to go out to dinner in the Cherry Creek area not far from their house.

This is where my birthday really started to get cool. We were celebrating with little kids, so that was a perfect excuse for my favorite food next to chocolate--pizza! We went to the California Pizza Kitchen and shared a delicious pepperoni pizza and Hawaiian pizza while coloring all over every inch of the complimentary coloring books.

Jessie informed us over dinner that if she didn't end up marrying Sam she might marry Luka as a backup. She liked Luka a lot, too, but there was just one problem with him. "He acts like my conscience," she said very seriously. Translation: Luka is a little bossy.

Grady was his usual sweet self, coloring and repeating the last three words of everything Jessie said. He's a little leery of this whole kindergarten thing, and I think he secretly misses Jessica at daycare, but he's handling it well.

After dinner we took what we thought was going to be a short walk to Whole Foods to pick out a birthday cake. How soon we forget that no walk is short when you have little ones in tow.

"Look at the cheetah!" Grady screamed as he ran toward a sculpture of a mountain lion in the courtyard area.

"No, Grady," Jessie instructed in her big-sister voice. "It's a mountain lion." We paused while Jessie showed Grady the curved tail and they both decided who was the mama lion and who was the baby.

We had no sooner herded them away from that sculpture when they found another one on the other side of the courtyard. This one depicted children playing in a fountain.

"Why is that girl pointing her toe?" Jessie asked.

We explained that she was dipping it in the water of the fountain, but unfortunately the fountain had been drained, so there was no water. That's why she looked a little silly at the time.

"I found the water!" Grady chimed. He was squatted over a little drainage ditch, sticking his fingers between the holes in the grate. Rats! We forgot the wet wipes. Oh well.

The two-block trip to Whole Foods took about forty-five minutes, but we made it. Then we made a rookie babysitting mistake. We led Jessie and Grady over to the huge glass case filled with decadent sweets so that they could help me pick out a birthday cake. That was fantasy overload for a three and five year old. (It was fantasy overload for me, too, to be quite honest.)

About a half hour later, we decided on a pink flower cupcake for Jessica, a baseball cupcake for Grady, and a very small, VERY chocolate cake for the adults. Mission accomplished. Now we just had to get back to the car.

An hour and a half later we were almost there. We ambled past a bus stop where four or five commuters silently waited for the bus.

"Wow! It's pretty quiet around here!" Grady yelled suddenly, causing one or two them to jump.

That's about when Jessie started repeating, "OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH!" at the top of her little lungs.

Eric smiled sheepishly at our chuckling audience. "They're not ours."

As we waited forever for the walk sign to change so we could cross the last street to get to the parking lot that looked like Mecca in the distance, Jessie informed us that she knows when to walk because she is now a "trained kindergartner." Good thing. We all feel safe now.

We arrived back at their home and stuffed ourselves with cake while Jessie and Grady sang five thousand verses of "Happy Birthday" to me. My favorite was the ever-popular, "You look like a monkey...and you smell like one, too!"

Satiated, we collapsed onto the couch to watch Tinker Bell. I have always loved Disney movies, so this was definitely a highlight of the evening. The best part was how Jessie told us exactly what was going to happen two seconds before it did. Her nonstop commentary had Eric and me stifling giggles to the point where tears streamed down my cheeks.

Sarah came home shortly after the movie started, but we hung out for a little while longer while Jessie and Grady recounted the events of the evening for her. Sarah then took a moment to relay a recent event that occurred at home. Evidently, Jessie picked up the phrase "oh my god" at school, and Sarah had a little talk with her about how a better phrase might be "oh my goodness" or "oh my gosh."

The day after their discussion, Jessie was standing on a stool washing her hands and she almost slipped and fell off. "Oh my god!" she yelled. When Sarah started to correct her once again, Jessie came back with a quick answer. "But Mommy, when I almost feel off that stool, I felt as though God was very close to me, so I called out to him. That's why I said it."

Who can argue with that?

So the evening wound down, and I sat on the comfy couch surrounded by Eric, Sarah, and two kids covered in frosting, and life was really good. This might just have been the best birthday ever--pizza, cake, Disney movies...and most of all family. It was the perfect combination.

I think the trained kindergartner summed it up best. "I didn't think that was going to be fun, but it was!"

This article describes our latest adventure-snatched-from-the-jaws-of-disaster involving a mountain. As you know, last year at the top of Mt. Evans, we had issues with wind, Port-o-Lets, and mountain goats. What would happen this year?

Therefore, our advice to those who want to summit a 14'er on a major national holiday: Don't!

Luckily, the beautiful Herman's Gulch trail is only one exit further down I-70; the hike up to Herman Lake was steep and challenging enough for two primarily desk-bound writers. (Who thought we could climb a 14'er from the TOP of Stephen's Gulch trailhead, anyway...Eric?)

Our plan from now on is to look for summits less traveled. Colorado has plenty of 13,000 foot mountains to climb. We feel confident that the view from that elevation will be just as spectacular and spiritually rewarding, and chances are we will be able to enjoy it in solitude, away from the masses of amateur peak baggers like ourselves. Kelly and I march to the beat of our own backpacks, anyway. And, as Kelly likes to say, if we are going to wake up at 4:30 AM, we damn well better get to the top of a mountain!

Our final mountaineering tip for today: Don't bring bananas for trail food in your pack. That's just stupid. Happy Labor Day 2009!

Photo Album:

by Kelly Jo Eldredge and Eric Mott

Eric
Even before the opening credits of part three of the HBO John Adams miniseries, the viewer gets the feeling that the soaring triumph from Part II was short lived. This installment of the seven part movie plummets from the heights of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, seen in the previous episode, to the depths of John Adams' political failures as a European envoy during the latter stages of the Revolutionary War.

Abigail Adams and her husband, John, walk arm-in-arm along the snowy landscape of their Massachusetts farm. Abigail gushes that at long last John has returned to her after they endured years of separation during his service to the Continental Congress. Just before the opening title sequence rolls we see John stare at his wife with a haunted, secretive look that foreshadows more sacrifice to come for her and her children as a result of John's service to our young country.

Abigail's subsequent heartbreak is hard to watch. She makes an impassioned case as to how much love and happiness John's separation from her has cost their family over the years. John is convinced; he decides to refuse his overseas assignment. Abigail does an about face, however. Not only does she tell her husband that he is the only man for the job, but he needs to take his son, John Quincy with him. I found this one of the most fascinating aspects of this episode--to see how the future sixth president got his start in foreign policy. The cold, loveless farewell between Abigail and John doesn't bode well for what lies in store.

John Quincy becomes a renowned diplomat, but he didn't learn that skill from the second president, his father. John's stay in Paris is an unmitigated failure. The tactless, impatient country lawyer from Massachusetts cannot adapt to the subtle ways of French politics. He leaves in humiliation after a long period of frustration, estranged from Benjamin Franklin, his colleague in Paris, and the French people for whom he could find no empathy.

Meanwhile, back at home, Abigail's loneliness becomes acute when John's letters become less frequent and less affectionate. The most emotional scene in this episode is between Abigail and her daughter, Nabby, late one night. Nabby begs her mother to stop washing windows and come to bed. Abigail rails on her husband as fiercely as she wipes each pane of glass, as if she is trying to scrub John's conscience from 3,000 miles away. This seems like the big paradox of episode three: that John should stop writing Abigail, his dearest, closest confidant, just because of political failure. Why could he not continue to affirm his love for her, when they both needed each other's support the most?

This part closes with John sick with a fever, sweating, coughing, and delirious in his apartment in Amsterdam. John Quincy has been shipped off to St. Petersburg to be the secretary for the United States ambassador there. So, he is quite alone, near death and estranged from all. He cannot even comprehend in his state that the war with Britain is over and America is free.

We know for a fact that this defeated, ill man recovers to become the first vice-president and the second president of the United States. But in this third episode we cannot see it, and the human frailty of this giant man in American history makes this melancholy installment the most paradoxically interesting episode, yet.

Kelly
One of the things I like best about this series is the way it reflects the family experience during a time in America's history that usually focuses on military victories and losses. Death in battle comes to mind first when we hear about sacrifices made during the Revolutionary War. This episode in particular takes a look at the personal sacrifices families made every day that were more subtle than life and death. One such sacrifice is laid out in the open in the snowy opening scene of Part III. Abigail says to John, "You realize, John, it has been fourteen years since we've been married. Not more than half of that time have we had the joy of living together. But you are here now, and you are safe."

Not so fast!

Abigail knows instinctively before John tells her that their ordeal is not over. He's not staying. John tells her in a heartbreaking scene as they lie side by side in bed that he has been sent to France to help Dr. Franklin.

"You cannot ask this of me. You cannot." Abigail whispers through her tears. John tries to explain, and she cuts him off. "You are needed here, John. Your children require your example. I need you here. Are you to add more years to those we already split apart? How can you give me back that time? How can you compensate to me all those years I cannot get back?"

John and Abigail continue to work through their decision in the darkness of their bedroom with choked sobs and tears streaming down their cheeks. The cost of freedom is dear. Finally, Abigail acknowledges that John must go where his country sends him. She admits if she were a man, she would also be in the field of action. "There all honor lies."

The goodbye scenes are difficult to watch in Part III. This is not the first time John has had to leave his family. They know what they're in for. Each one of them is very familiar with the loneliness, fear, and melancholy that come next. John's children cling to him, voice their anger, and finally console each other once again. And to increase the pain, John takes his oldest son, John Quincy, with him this time-- at Abigail's request. As difficult as it will be to let her son go, she knows that it is time for him to develop his own sense of duty to his country.

Abigail bids her husband goodbye with a growl. "You come back to me, John," she says with a fierceness that is more of a threat than a term of endearment. She is obviously angry over their situation and helpless to do anything about it.

When John Adams and his son arrive in Paris after a frightening voyage, Franklin tells John that a treaty is all but finished. Adams is at first angry that he was not told before he braved the Atlantic in the winter, but he resolves to get to work on finalizing the details. Dr. Franklin tries to warn John that the French don't appreciate demands or expedition. "We are all actors here, Mr. Adams," Ben Franklin tells him. "And so far my performance has been well received." Franklin further tells Adams that he knows he is a good and moral man, which makes him exactly the wrong diplomat for Paris. "Paris requires a certain amount of indecency of thought and action." Franklin says with a twinkle in his eye.

Adams ends up insulting the French with his adamant push for more action. He is asked if he will attend the opera while in Paris, and he says rather boldly that he has no time. "I must study politics and war so that my sons will have the liberty to study mathematics and philosophy." Adams' work ethic does not impress the French, and he makes few friends in Paris.

Meanwhile, Abigail is holding down the fort at home. Her loneliness is apparent in a blue scene in the middle of the night, where she wanders from room to room and checks on each of her children. Her emptiness is not filled with letters from her "dearest friend." Instead, John's letters become more and more infrequent. The real reason he does not write seems to be that he is embarrassed by his failure in the French court. Abigail is deeply saddened by the infrequency of John's letters and the fact that when they do arrive, they do not give her any assurance that he loves her and has not forgotten them. "How can he not know what his silence costs me?" She says to her daughter as she stares out the window.

The scenes of Franklin living it up in France provide some comic relief to the loneliness that tears at the hearts of John and Abigail. Adams is eventually asked to leave France, but he is not allowed to go home. He travels instead to Holland to ask for a loan and is not successful there, either. American credit is not well established, and the Dutch will lend money only to those who are capable of paying it back.

Duty first--before love, family, comfort...or health. Adams lies covered with sweat, alone and hallucinating as a result of a serious illness. He has recently sent John Quincy to Russia to "put his accomplishments to use in the service of his country." The family is now spread across the globe.

We feel the frustration of diplomatic decisions that plod along and put off the happy reunions of family members who love each other deeply. Our hearts twist when Abigail and John each receive news of the British surrender at separate times and worlds apart--Abigail hugs herself for comfort and then her children. It is unclear whether or not John even comprehends the news through his fever and hallucinations.

Duty first--but at what cost?