The reality

This is the reality of Joplin, Missouri.

If it looks bad at the start, wait 30 seconds...

And it goes for miles...

Kindness everywhere

The few days I was actually on the ground in Joplin, I found myself constantly needing to hold back tears from being completely overwhelmed by what I saw. But it was for the exact opposite reason than I anticipated before I arrived.

I thought the decimation, the devastation and the despair would lead me to tears of sadness. Instead, it was the hope, the generosity, the kindness that forced me to hold back tears from overwhelming love. Parents were driving their elementary school daughters around through the wreckage so the girls could offer the cookies they baked to the volunteer workers. Teenagers riding around in the back of pickup trucks with hundreds of hot dogs looking for people to feed. Everywhere you went, there were 18-wheelers being unloaded with donations from other parts of the country. When I saw the distribution center First Baptist Church Joplin had set up at their South Campus, I felt like I was walking into Walmart. But everything was free.

Food, clothing, water, hygiene products, toys, medical supplies. All free for the taking. No stipulations. Just there for those who needed it. In fact, there was so much bottled water that it became a running joke. It was a good thing. When I had arrived Thursday evening, there was still a boil order in place. People were showering in brown water and had been since the storm on Sunday.

Thoughts I captured in the moment...

...with post-visit thoughts coming later.

The sun didn’t shine for the first nine and a half hours of the drive on Thursday. But suddenly, as I crawled within 40 miles of Joplin, Missouri on I-44 South, not only did I have to squint my eyes because of the brightness, but the light beamed visible rays through the slight cloud cover to the ground below, as if to suggest blessings were descending on the land which was scorched four days prior by the deadliest tornado recorded on American soil.

My car stayed firmly planted in the left lane of the highway, buzzing by fleets of military vehicles from the National Guard carrying bags upon bags upon bags of supplies to those who found themselves suddenly sunken into a state of sheer poverty. I had ditched the ipod shuffle hours ago because it didn’t seem appropriate, but I was growing weary with the silence and the gravity of the reality and uncertainty of what exactly I was approaching. So I searched for local news radio. I found two hosts who were speaking without the brash arrogance and hyper-opinionated banter that drives ratings in today’s talk format. Instead, they were hosting a small-town radio staple, a Swap-N-Shop style program, where anyone could call up at anytime and share what it was they had to sell. But this time, instead of offering a plasma TV or a boat or a beat up pick-up truck, the currency was compassion, information and verification of those they had indeed seen alive.

One lonely man called up showing his concern for the ladies who tended bar at the local watering hole he frequented, presumably the closest thing to a family that he had. “If anyone sees them, tell them their most loyal customer loves them, and misses them, and hopes they’re alright,” he said.

I arrived at First Baptist Church Joplin just in time to follow a crew of people over to a different church where they’d help unload supplies off a semi truck. As I trailed behind the church van without any idea where I was going, we turned down a road and went from a seemingly normal civilization to a complete catastrophe.

A neighborhood with substantially-sized houses was rendered a war zone. Cars were crumpled like they were cans of Coca-Cola ready for recycling. Some houses were so entirely leveled that it took a moment before you could tell if there was even a house there to begin with. Trees were not only uprooted, but stripped of their bark by the winds in excess of 200 mph. One car was standing straight up with its hood buried in the dirt, as if the back half of it was a plant growing from the ground. One house’s walls somehow stayed intact, but it was actually lying on a location other than where it was built. One car had landed on top of another car, which had been flipped on its topside. Mud was sprayed everywhere, as if the twister had played a game of paintball to finish leaving its mark after the bulk of the damage was done.

And this went on for miles. You could see for miles. What was once a neighborhood is now an open field.

Spray painted ‘X’s dressed what was left of the houses, signifying that they had already been searched for bodies. Some people spray painted their names on their house to let their neighbors know that they were alive. The winds of the EF-5 monster decimated one house so thoroughly that the appliances weighing hundreds of pounds were strewn on the lawn.

One storm did this. In a matter of minutes.

When we got back to the church, the pastor pulled me aside and shared stories of those he knew who had lost their possessions, their homes, their lives. One fourth-grade boy, who participated in the church’s youth soccer league, was among the 126 confirmed dead to this juncture, with hundreds more still missing.

Hundreds of volunteers from across the region and the country have come here to help. Only a handful are at this particular church, but we’ve got people from Oklahoma, northwest Indiana, Atlanta, and one knucklehead from North Carolina. One woman called in to the radio station and asked live on the air how she could help. She said she had a busload of 30 others with her who had come all the way from California and were ready, willing and prepared to do whatever they could.

I like the small group of volunteers we have here at this church. We sat around a table tonight after the sun went down, shared stories about where we were from, what led us here, what we’re going through in our own personal lives, and how God is always, always good.

They relayed to me the story from earlier today before I arrived: they had just finished cleaning the lawn of one home, and they saw a man get out of his car across the street and survey the damage for the first time. He had been away on business in Arizona, and at the very moment they were witnessing, he was arriving home to heartbreak. In this moment of absolute tragedy, the group approached him and asked if they could clean up his yard. He stared in disbelief for a moment before responding.

“How much do you want?” he uttered.

“Nothing.”

“Why would you do that for me?” he asked.

“Because we love Jesus, and Jesus loves you.”

The man wept. And they prayed together. And they served their brother in his time of need.

The next time you think to yourself that this world’s full of evil people, just remember that it’s also full of really, really good people, too. And while we can’t control what the evil people do, there is one person whose deeds and actions you can control: you.

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When unfamiliar faces show up at the church, there are two questions that get asked right away: “What’s your name?” and “Do you need help or are you here to help?”

Dan, a farmer from Iowa, decked out in denim from head to toe, was the first to show up this morning. His white hair and mustache and high frequency of wrinkles in his tan skin suggest he’s been farming for a long time. But he’s not too tired to drive south and lend a hand.

More stories are shared as we prepare to start the day.

Joplin apparently had a large homeless population before the storm. Many of them lived behind a Walmart that was toppled. They’re all feared gone, never to be accounted for.

The ball of debris that existed in the twister is reported to have been three-quarters of a mile wide, and almost 20,000 feet tall. Yes, almost four miles into the air.

X-rays from a local hospital were found as far as 60 miles away. If the storm couldn’t flung a flimsy piece of film that far, no telling what it could’ve done to something with weight.

Among the dead is a young man who was working his job cleaning tables at Pizza Hut. When the storm arrived, he quickly pushed customers to a freezer at the back with a broken lock. He saved dozens, tried to hold the door shut while enduring the storm, and was sucked up by the winds, never to be seen alive again.

One man was sitting on his front porch smoking a cigarette two days after the twister. When approached by members of the church asking if he needed help, his only response was: “I came right out here to this same spot on the porch. I saw the tornado coming over the hill, and there were just bodies flying everywhere.”

The best advice I received came from my friend Ethan, a meteorologist in Jackson, Mississippi who unfortunately has too much experience dealing with these things. He knows I’m wordy, so he kept the instructions simple, telling me to say “I’m here to help. What can I do?” and then just shut up and listen.

You've helped me; now let's help others

Friends,

Here's how I'm starting to see the world: there are no bad people, and there are no good people. There are only people, created equally. Life is a series of millions of decisions; some good choices, some good risks, some bad choices, some bad risks. Sometimes bad risks turn out well. Sometimes good risks backfire. Some people make mostly good choices. Others make a lot of bad choices. Just about everyone thinks they're a good person. But it's quite clear no one's perfect. So no one's objectively good or bad. We're all just people.

Some of these people really misrepresent Christianity. It's NOT about being better than anyone else because of what you believe or what you do. It's about simply acknowledging the fact that in the decision-making process, we've all got a selfish, imperfect voice within us. Christianity is about making a commitment to constantly trying to silence that selfish voice, and listening to the selfless, loving voice of God (who we believe to be Christ), a voice we all have inside of us (non-believers call it a conscience), then acting upon it. That's Christianity to me. Not trying to crack a crazy code to figure out the end of the world. Simply observing and listening to the love and compassion which exists deep (sometimes really buried deep) within each of us, the same love and compassion copied in the collection of books written thousands of years apart called The Bible.

So, I'm going to Joplin for five days to help the tornado clean-up. It's not a long stay, and the impact I'll make will probably resemble a drop in the ocean, but it's something, and I believe when we feel called, we should all do something. This isn't me trying to be a good person. This is me responding to the second voice. This is me trying to be what I believe Christianity is supposed to be. Non-believers do this humanitarian stuff, too. But I believe they do it because they're listening to their heart, and I believe what they're hearing in their heart is the conscience that God instilled in us all.

Imagine you experience this (fastforward to the 2:00 mark):

Then imagine surviving it, stepping outside, and seeing this: http://money.cnn.com/2011/05/24/news/economy/tornado_joplin/?section=money_latest

Seeing the destruction overwhelmed me. I instantly knew I had to do something. Afterall, I'm supposed to love my neighbor as myself, and man, would I want someone to do this for me if I were in their shoes. For all I know, Joplin is no worse off than Tuscaloosa, but I didn't have this calling then. I have it now. It's the exact same feeling I had before the 40-Day Tour. A feeling of acknowledging an idea, knowing it's a little crazy, even being scared that I'm not emotionally or physically prepared for what I'm about to experience, but doing it anyway, because the calling is so intensely strong that it's a no-doubter. I absolutely know I'm doing the right thing by going. And in a selfish way, it makes me feel alive. This is living.

First Baptist Church Joplin is providing me with meals and a roof over my head. If you'd like to make a donation to them, mail a check with details on how you'd like the money to be spent to:

First Baptist Church Joplin

633 South Pearl Rd

Joplin, MO 64801

Or, as always, you can donate to the American Red Cross.

If you can't give to this effort, but did give to the 40-Day Tour, you've already given to this effort, because I'm investing a sizeable chunk of my own money to load up my car and deliver supplies, to buy the gas to get there, and to buy the supplies needed to make an impact on the ground. Consider your donation to the 40-Day Tour as an investment in me when I needed it most, to enable me to grow into someone with the financial stability and ability to do this today.

I'll leave Wednesday after work, stay with my good friend Andrew Chelton in Nashville late Wednesday night, drive Thursday morning and afternoon to finish the drive to Joplin, and begin work early Thursday evening. Friday, Saturday and early Sunday will be spent helping however I can be used, and I'll start the 16-hour drive back mid-to-late Sunday, so I can be home Monday night in time for work Tuesday morning.

Much like during the tour, I'll try to chronicle my thoughts on this blog and post photos, but the truth is, my time there will be limited, so I'll spend very little time writing while I'm within the city limits.

Please pray for the success of the rescue workers and clean-up crew, and thank you endlessly for your generous support.

R.I.P. Grandpa Sim

10 years ago today, laying around on a lazy Sunday in my freshman dorm room, I got the unexpected phone call that my Grandpa was gone. He was born and died a humble Youngstown steel mill worker. We had an inseparable bond from the day I was born. My mom went into labor with me at 5 a.m. on his birthday, and he was excited to share a birthday with his grandson, but as would be foreshadowing for years, I'm stubborn, I do things on my own time, and I didn't come out until the next day.

But our close friendship revolved around sports. He'd tell me stories of watching Babe Ruth play in Yankee Stadium, but missing most of the game because he sat behind a huge pole. Or how being a Depression-era teen led to filling boredom by literally foot-racing and boxing friends in their "Neighborhood Olympics" on a regular basis. But toward the end of his life, and as a Youngstown lifer, every time I'd see him, he'd say "Hey boy!! We need to get my buddy Tressel down in Columbus so the Bucks will stop all this losing to Michigan crap!!!" Two months after he passed, OSU made the hire, and has been winning ever since. He never got to hear me deliver a sportscast, but I often think about him while I'm on the air, just imagining how excited he'd be to listen in.

Tomorrow, I'm blessed to be part of the radio broadcast team bringing you Notre Dame vs. Utah nationwide. But the greatest blessing of my life behind a microphone always has been and always will be delivering his eulogy. I remember meeting so many people at the funeral I never knew, but people who came to pay their respects to the man, because of how he loved to help people just to help. Just because. Not so they'd owe him, or not so he'd be a hero. Just because, only occasionally asking for a bologna sandwich and a cup of coffee in return.

Two things I wish everyone would learn from his life:

a) you absolutely CAN live a life of immense significance never making more than $18,000 a year, because he did. And the only quantifiable value in a human comes from how many people they help, how many people they inspire and how many people they love. Not how many things they own or accomplish.

b) Tell the people you love how much you love them OFTEN. Because you never know when they'll suddenly be gone.

Wherever I Go video: FAQ

Here are some frequently asked questions I've received about the Wherever I Go video:



Q: How'd you do this?
A: I lived out of my car for 38 days, drove 14,022 miles, visited 40 states, and asked mostly strangers and a few friends along the way to hold the camera for me.

Q: Did you write the song?
A: Yes. In fact, I wrote almost the entire thing in one two-hour period one morning when I couldn't sleep. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVEkFONc0fs&feature=related

Q: Did you use a green screen for any of the shots?
A: No.

Q: Are you sure? It looks like you might have.
A: Yes, I'm sure. Where would I even find video of all those signs on the side of the road with no one posing in them? And how would I collect all of it, what stranger would be willing to shoot that video and send it to me? How much work would that take? It's legitimately EASIER to just drive 14,000 miles in 38 days. Besides, that wouldn't be the experience of a lifetime, which I wrote about daily in each city on the blog www.40daytour.com.

Q: What's the main message here?
A: When you suffer a loss that breaks your heart, the silver lining is that you've been freed from the responsibilities that came along with whatever you lost. So it's a perfect opportunity to live your life to the fullest, live it with love and live it for others, because in my opinion, that's the only life worth living.

Q: Is this some gimmick to try and become a rock star?
A: I don't really think I'm a very good performer, so no, I don't ever see that happening. But I love writing songs, I know I'm good at it, and if someone notices my creativity or song-writing ability, that'd be cool.

Q: What do you hope comes out of this?
A: This video is full of love, so I hope it goes viral. I hope love goes viral. I also hope it inspires other people who are down on their luck to dust themselves off and bounce back stronger and accomplishing greater things than ever could have been possible without whatever setback they experience.

Q: Why is your sister the strongest woman you know?
A: Because days before her 21st birthday, she was diagnosed with a serious and usually fatal disease called Fibrosing Mediastinitis. She's doing very well, and her faith has her determined to stay full of hope, full of love and spreading that love through faith. Since being diagnosed, she's become engaged to her boyfriend. Much like I did on a much, much less serious note, she's taken a negative, plowed right through it and is living her life to the fullest. I'm very proud of her.

Q: What was your favorite spot?
A: All of them. The whole experience was the trip of a lifetime.

Q: What would you do differently if you could do it again?
A: Probably nothing. I wish I would've had the guts to obnoxiously play in front of a jampacked Subway train instead of a half-empty one, and I wish I would've included a couple other scenic shots I took in the video, but I have absolutely no regrets about the decision to do this or the way it played out. I love all the imperfections in the video. It makes it so grassroots, so real.

Q: Who's the special lady you're singing about?
A: The song is intentionally written generically so it can be about anyone you love. Some might feel that way about family, others might think of a significant other. There is a special friend who inspired me to write the song, and who I had in mind while writing the whole song, but ultimately I wrote the song about my personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I'm not the kind of Christian who wants to wave that in anyone's face. I just want people to know He's inspired me to live a life of love, to love ALL others the way He has loved me, and THAT is what Christianity is all about.

Q: What if you put all this effort into trying to become a musician and you fail? Then what?
A: Who cares? Failing is awesome. Sure, you'd rather succeed, but failing means you had the guts to try something most others wouldn't. It means the deck was stacked against you, but you stared the situation in the eye and went for it anyway. Never fear failure. It's simply the result of circumstance. It's not indicitive of anything negative about you. Only that you were brave enough to try.

The making of the video: Wherever I Go

I've been waiting for this post since the idea popped into my head in late May.
Thank you to the hundreds of people from home and whose paths I crossed on the road for the unbelievable and generous support. God is so good, and working through all of you with the generosity you've shown.

Incredibly generous and unexpected support came from Michael Riches, T.J. Tripp, Matt Crumpton, The Goare Family, The Hodsons, The Hooleys, Chris Spielman, Brad Shaffer, Todd Goodman, Carl Petre, and my immediate family (Chris, Karen, Shea, Alyssa and Andrew Horwat). Sincerely, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This wouldn't have been possible without you, and I hope you take pride in knowing that. I hope to pay it forward for the rest of my life, and do it with your kindness in mind.

I also want to thank Mike Ricordati, Aaron Cassady, the Rahdes, Kelly Johnson, Wade Peery, Ben Jay, Dave Gust, Walt Novosel, Mike Thompson and Angie Harris for their significant contributions.

Thanks also to Blake Nolan, who sacrificed vacation to go on a tough, unexpected ride across the country from Seattle to Columbus (2,400 miles in three and a half days) so I could be with my family in a time of need.

In total, I drove 14,022 miles in 38 days over 40 states: Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Iowa, Nebraska, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, back home to Ohio, the Canadian border at Niagara Falls, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut, before my move to my new, current home: Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

In all, 44 people stopped to help film the video for me. 39 of the 44 were complete strangers, a handful of whom didn't even speak English. Thanks to Mike Dunn in Pittsburgh, Joel Rabe in Knoxville, Ross Schneiderman in New York City, Matt Crumpton on the Pacific Coast and Blake Nolan in Chicago, St. Louis, Seattle and select state signs for helping in the production of the video. This was truly a grassroots project, and I tried to make that transparent in the process and in the end result. Some of the shooting, all of the writing and all of the editing was done myself.

Special thanks also to the Dunns, Ross Schneiderman and Aaron Hornstein, Chris McKenzie, Matt Hoffman, Beau Boughamer, Brian Boesch, Tom Clifford, The Saporskys, Brian Earley, Howard and Amanda Rudolph, Keith Cawley, Andrew Chelton, Ethan Huston, Brad Shaffer, Angie and Chris Koch, Aaron Hancart, Matt Crumpton, Nicole Krishnaswami, Caleb Troop, Nathan Prinz and Nick Campbell, and a handful of complete strangers for providing a roof over my head at different spots across the country. I spent a number of nights sleeping in the car, and it's not fun, especially in the south, with summertime lows in the upper 80s. Your kindness in opening up a room for me will be appreciated until the day I die. Thanks also to Jillian Cross, who kindly donated to help me avoid sleeping in the car as many as six nights in a single week.

Great thanks to those who bought me meals on the road, especially to two wonderful women in Amy Saul and Allie LaForce for making sure I was fed on multiple occassions, both physically and spiritually. You ladies are truly, truly awesome.

It was also an extraordinary experience to be interviewed by members of the media as often as I was. Thanks to Dave Maetzold for pushing me to seek out media exposure, and Dana Sulonen, Spencer Adkins, Mark Dantzer, Mindy Drayer, Michael Riches, Megan Pringle, Ethan Huston and Stacey Chesser for your willingness to tell my story to the masses.

Thanks also to ALL the people who came to my CD release show and my welcome home show in Columbus, especially those who traveled great distances or who surprised me with their presence, namely Beau Bishop, Paul Keels, Russ Eisenstein, Matt Dowds, and all the guys and gals from STRIVE at Northwest Bible, and Brian Barnhart for his surprise visit (attempts!) in two different cities. All the gracious support from those two events went a long way toward making this trip possible.

I have been blessed with so many good friends, too many to name, who showed extraordinary interest and support in my travels. You are all friends I value dearly and I will for the rest of my life.

Thanks also to the strangers who helped me out by buying my CD or dropping me money to help me get through along the way. I've always felt the true mark of kindness is not just to help those who can pay you back, but to help those who cannot. Without asking for anything in return, you gave selflessly, and may God bless you for it.

I really, really didn't want to release this video without having the EP available for download on iTunes, including a studio-quality recording of this song along with several others I have ready for release. But the bottom line is: I just don't have the money to do it, I don't want to record a shabby, half-assed version of everything in my bedroom, and I have been so incredibly blessed by the outpouring of support that made my trip possible. If anyone wants to donate money from this point forward, it's going toward the Fibrosing Mediastinitis Research Fund at Vanderbilt to help find a cure for my sister's disease. I'd be selfish to ask for anything more.

That said, if I can ask one more favor, it's that you please repost this video for your friends and loved ones. Sure, I'd love for this video to somehow launch a music career, but that's not the point. If this video, or my story, could be used to inspire others to go for their dreams in the face of adversity, and to live life with passion and to the absolute fullest they possibly can, then I'll come out of this whole experience a richer man than I ever would/could by being a multi-platinum artists. So facebook it, tweet it, digg it, email it. Just let it be known: when you suffer a loss that breaks your heart, you've been freed from the chains and responsibilities which tied you to it. Go live your life, live it with love, and live it for others. It's the only life worth living.

Without further ado, here it is: the music video for Wherever I Go. I hope you enjoy watching it even a fraction as much as I enjoyed making it.

With love,
Tony C