from
my dad, John LaFontaine. He coached me on the lake in front of our house in Michigan, he coached me in bantam hockey, and
he has coached and advised me at every level at which I have competed. I’m indebted to my dad for what he taught me on and
off the ice.
The relationship between an athlete and his coach is special, particularly when the coach is your father. Our relationship
continues to be a source of strength and encouragement. There’s a bond built through and around the sport but encompassing
so much more and running so much deeper.
It is what helps me appreciate this next story.
About a year ago I was watching the ARETE Awards, given to those who have shown courage in life and athletic competition.
A volleyball coach from Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, was being honored for her personal and professional
courage. I had heard of Dave Sanders, the coach from the same school who gave his life saving kids during that terrible tragedy,
but I had never heard of Dawn Anna. When she came to the podium to receive her award, she was accompanied by three of her
children. I wondered where her youngest daughter was, because the person who introduced her mentioned that she had four kids.
I was stunned to learn that her daughter Lauren was one of the kids who had been shot to death.
I sat in hushed silence, tears welling up in my eyes, as she received her recognition. I thought of my three children, Sarah,
Brianna, and Daniel, and how unimaginable it would be for Marybeth and me to lose one of them. I thought of my relationship
with my father and mother and what it would be like for us to lose one another. My admiration for this diminutive woman of
courage soared when she stood to speak.
I learned that this mother of four had a cerebral malfunction in her brain and had narrowly escaped death herself during two
surgeries. I learned that she had coached her team during one period of her life with an IV bag dripping medication and nutrients
into her traumatized body. I learned that there were days when getting out of bed to face her day was challenge enough because
she could hardly gain her equilibrium, let alone keep her food down.
Then she spoke of April 20, 1999, a day we all remember for its fear and sickening horror. A day when she learned that her
daughter, the captain of her volleyball team and Columbine valedictorian with a perfect 4.0 grade average, had been killed
while studying in the library. Most of us only saw the terrible spectacle on television; Dawn Anna lives with the results
of that massacre and shares that excruciating pain. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
When Dawn was pregnant with Lauren, she had to fight valiantly to bring her into the world. Twice the doctors thought she
had miscarried. During the delivery the hemorrhaging in Dawn’s body threatened Lauren’s fetal existence. With Dawn’s great
determination they both survived.
In 1993 doctors found a twisted mass of blood vessels in Dawn’s cerebellum. She battled massive bleeding in order to stay
alive. Because of the nature of her surgery, she had to learn to walk again. Her kids, primarily Lauren, taught her as she
had taught them. Instead of “Come to Mommy,” it was “Mommy, come to me.”
They were a team, giving support, encouragement, and understanding. Dawn did learn to walk. She couldn’t know she would lose
her youngest daughter and once more have to find a way to learn to live.
Now Dawn Anna fights to make libraries safe for kids who want to study. Her daughter became the inspiration for helping kids
to make the most of their lives and their potential. A college scholarship has been established and will be given to a Columbine
student each year. It is not Lauren’s death but Lauren’s life that has become her mother’s rallying cry as she seeks a way
to control the use of guns so that kids can walk the halls of their schools without fearing for
my dad, John LaFontaine. He coached me on the lake in front of our house in Michigan, he coached me in bantam hockey, and
he has coached and advised me at every level at which I have competed. I’m indebted to my dad for what he taught me on and
off the ice.
The relationship between an athlete and his coach is special, particularly when the coach is your father. Our relationship
continues to be a source of strength and encouragement. There’s a bond built through and around the sport but encompassing
so much more and running so much deeper.
It is what helps me appreciate this next story.
About a year ago I was watching the ARETE Awards, given to those who have shown courage in life and athletic competition.
A volleyball coach from Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, was being honored for her personal and professional
courage. I had heard of Dave Sanders, the coach from the same school who gave his life saving kids during that terrible tragedy,
but I had never heard of Dawn Anna. When she came to the podium to receive her award, she was accompanied by three of her
children. I wondered where her youngest daughter was, because the person who introduced her mentioned that she had four kids.
I was stunned to learn that her daughter Lauren was one of the kids who had been shot to death.
I sat in hushed silence, tears welling up in my eyes, as she received her recognition. I thought of my three children, Sarah,
Brianna, and Daniel, and how unimaginable it would be for Marybeth and me to lose one of them. I thought of my relationship
with my father and mother and what it would be like for us to lose one another. My admiration for this diminutive woman of
courage soared when she stood to speak.
I learned that this mother of four had a cerebral malfunction in her brain and had narrowly escaped death herself during two
surgeries. I learned that she had coached her team during one period of her life with an IV bag dripping medication and nutrients
into her traumatized body. I learned that there were days when getting out of bed to face her day was challenge enough because
she could hardly gain her equilibrium, let alone keep her food down.
Then she spoke of April 20, 1999, a day we all remember for its fear and sickening horror. A day when she learned that her
daughter, the captain of her volleyball team and Columbine valedictorian with a perfect 4.0 grade average, had been killed
while studying in the library. Most of us only saw the terrible spectacle on television; Dawn Anna lives with the results
of that massacre and shares that excruciating pain. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
When Dawn was pregnant with Lauren, she had to fight valiantly to bring her into the world. Twice the doctors thought she
had miscarried. During the delivery the hemorrhaging in Dawn’s body threatened Lauren’s fetal existence. With Dawn’s great
determination they both survived.
In 1993 doctors found a twisted mass of blood vessels in Dawn’s cerebellum. She battled massive bleeding in order to stay
alive. Because of the nature of her surgery, she had to learn to walk again. Her kids, primarily Lauren, taught her as she
had taught them. Instead of “Come to Mommy,” it was “Mommy, come to me.”
They were a team, giving support, encouragement, and understanding. Dawn did learn to walk. She couldn’t know she would lose
her youngest daughter and once more have to find a way to learn to live.
Now Dawn Anna fights to make libraries safe for kids who want to study. Her daughter became the inspiration for helping kids
to make the most of their lives and their potential. A college scholarship has been established and will be given to a Columbine
student each year. It is not Lauren’s death but Lauren’s life that has become her mother’s rallying cry as she seeks a way
to control the use of guns so that kids can walk the halls of their schools without fearing for
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