Gift of Life Child Justin Acosta - Day 42

Tuesday, November 25. 2008

One more beautiful day, except that we have some rain to water the flowers and make things grow, like little Justin. I see a bright future for him. His mom, dad, brother, and sister will see to that. Right now, it is 9PM; I'm sitting at my "puter", trying to think of something to say. This all started October 15^th, when Justin entered our lives. A beautiful, but frail little child, who is now healthy as any two year old could be. This is his new beginning.

          Let me fill you in on what happened today. I didn't get to bed until 2:45AM, when I finished yesterday's letter. I was awake by 6:15, showered, and dressed by 6:45. I checked American Airlines to see if the flight was on schedule and on time. Everything was fine. I double checked to make sure how much luggage they were allowed. We were told two each for storage and two carry on's. We were good to go in that department.

I was going to cook breakfast and remembered I had no potatoes. So I did the next best thing. I improvised. I went to Meadowlands diner, still under construction but open for business. I ordered an omelet and a scrambled egg platter to go. By the time I got home Dulce was up, but Justin was sleeping. We ate, and then went downstairs to finish packing. Last night, I found out they could have an additional carry on, we packed another duffel bag, loaded it with some of the toys. It was eleven o'clock when Bob Poli arrived. He was taking us in his van. I tried to talk him out of rearranging his schedule, but he insisted, and am I glad he did. With five bags to be toted to the check in, it would have been a problem. Remember the Port Authority Police? Well, I had to contact Lt. Kevin Murphy to complete the arrangements for Bob's van. I called him three times, and finally the desk sergeant called me back. He said that everything was set. When we arrived at Terminal A, the skycaps started to put the luggage on the dolly when PA officer Steve Pisciota showed up. Steve, who lives in Rutherford, worked for a hardware store in Rutherford, and remembered delivering equipment to my uncle Carl Lanzallotta. Uncle Carl, who is eighty four years old, fell in love with Justin and Dulce and would stop at the house often. This world is getting smaller all the time. After going through security, we had almost an hour and a half to kill. No, we didn't go to the passenger lounge. We were taken instead, into the Admirals Lounge (VIP). I had asked Lt. Murphy if it was possible, and he made it happen. It was really nice, free coffee, pretzels, chips, and juice for Justin, and lots of good conversation. Before you knew it, it was 1:35, boarding time. At this point, Steve left us with a good understanding of what the Gift of Life is all about. Thanks, Steve, for your help and good company.

Saying goodbye turned out to be the most difficult part of their stay here. Except for the day of Justin's operation, their leaving, saying goodbye to this child that I have grown to love and I know I speak for everyone that came in contact with Justin. He really is a bundle of joy. And Dulce, her name meaning "sweet", but to me it means devotion. I know in my heart.

Thanks to Rotary, to the Gift of Life, to the Fort Lee Rotary Club members, Montifore Hospital's Dr. Weinstein, Dr. Sutton, and NP Katie, American Airlines, Lt. Murphy and Steve Pisciota of the Port Authority Police. Because of all of you, Justin may one day Fly American from Honduras, be escorted by the PA Police to Montifore Hospital, to thank the doctors and nurses for his new life, and meet in the Rotary room on the 4^th Floor.

Wait! My saga does not end here. We were left here at the airport. Justin and Dulce deserted us. What do we do? Bob makes a suggestion; I had to agree with him. A half hour later, there we were sitting in the Meadowlands Diner (still under construction and still open). We had a nice lunch, and then I suggested my house. I have a bottle of Glenfiddich that has to be dismantled and demolished. Need I say more? 

I will write one more letter when Dulce calls.

Yours in Rotary,

John Koch