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Judy and Gary Weinstein
with sons Sam and Alex

The car crash that killed his family shattered Gary Weinstein's world
... yet he lives each day with passion and presence.

Ronelle Grier I Contributing Writer

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1

second-degree murder. He was sen-
tenced to 19-30 years in prison and is
now serving out his term at the Macomb
Correctional Facility in New Haven.

Six Years Later
Fast-forward six years from May 3, 2005.
Gary Weinstein sits in the living room of
his house, the same home he once shared
with Judy, Sam and Alex. The furnish-
ings are much the same; the last school
pictures taken of the boys hang framed on
the living room wall. On the door leading
to the basement is a sign in Alex's hand-
writing, punctuated with a smiley face. It
reads, "Turn the lights off when you leave
the basement." Weinstein finds comfort in
these familiar surroundings. His memo-
ries are reassuring rather than haunting.
"The times we had together here were
whole and complete he said. "It seems
appropriate to stay within the confines of
that."
As Weinstein talks about his life, he
reveals an outlook that can only be
described as extraordinary. He does not
dwell on the past. There is no trace of the
anger or bitterness one might expect from
a man who has endured such unimagi-
nable catastrophe. His biggest concern is
what he can do to make a positive differ-
ence in his immediate community and in
the larger world.
Rabbi Tamara Kolton of the Birmingham
Temple in Farmington Hills calls Weinstein
her "spiritual mentor." She marvels at his
ability not only to survive, but also to live
each day with presence and passion.

"He gives me tremendous unspoken
strength," Kolton said. "I watch him and I
know that if he can continue to breathe,
then surely I, with my small problems
and small losses, can show up for my life.
Whatever life brings me, I know that it is
possible to live on. There is no one else
that I look to with such regard. No rabbi,
guru or ancient prophet."
Weinstein credits much of his atti-
tude to Landmark Education, a personal
improvement program based on a trans-
formative learning process that aims to
dissolve limiting beliefs and open the door
to limitless possibilities. The organization
is an offshoot of EST (Erhard Seminars
Training), a popular but controversial
program founded by self-actualization
guru Werner Erhard (born John Paul
Rosenberg) in the early '70s.
Weinstein, who was familiar with
Landmark when he met Judy, brought her
to a seminar where she formed an imme-
diate connection to the program and its
principles. She went on to assume a local
leadership position in the organization
and used many of its tenets in her work as
a business coach.
Weinstein said his Landmark training
has enabled him to live in the present
moment, to accept life as it is and to look
for ways to contribute boldly to the world
around him.
"We are not our circumstances; we are
not what's happened to us," he said. "We're
bigger than that."
He also credits much of his survival to
the outpouring of love he received from

the community Family members, friends,
neighbors, friends of his sons and their
parents — even people Weinstein had
never met — reached out to offer sympa-
thy and support.
"I felt love like I've never felt love
before," he said. "When your family and
all your stuff is gone, what you have left is
community. I think that's a good legacy to
be part of:'
After Wellinger was convicted, Weinstein
requested a face-to-face meeting with
the man who caused the deaths of his
wife and sons. The first thing he asked
Wellinger was how his kids were doing. He
still maintains that he does not hate the
man; he hates what he did.
"What happened is not about drunk
driving," Weinstein said, "it's about alco-
holism. If we agree that it's a disease, then
he wasn't well."

Finding 'Quiet Love'
Since the loss of his family, Weinstein
has found joy from other sources: golf,
travel, acting and a new relationship with
Eileen Keegan, his high school prom
date. Weinstein met Keegan, a native New
Yorker, during his senior trip to Florida
and invited her to accompany him to his
prom at the Roostertail in Detroit. Keegan
reciprocated the following year, and
Weinstein went to New York to escort her
to her prom at the Playboy Club. The two
maintained a long-distance relationship
for a few years and then went their sepa-
rate ways, with no communication except
for a very occasional phone call or email.

A few weeks before the accident,
Weinstein had made plans to meet Keegan
in her hometown of Las Vegas, where he
was going to attend a jewelry trade show.
Both were looking forward to catching up
on each other's lives over a friendly dinner.
Keegan still remembers the phone call
she received on May 3, 2005.
"I was in my office. He said, 'I'm not
coming. My family was killed by a drunk
driver this afternoon.' At first, I thought I
hadn't heard right. Then I got hysterical;'
she said.
What began as a supportive friendship
gradually turned into romance.
"I kind of believe that maybe I was sup-
posed to be here, so that he didn't crash
and burn:' she said. "I'm just glad I was
there to catch him."
It is not every woman who could step
into Keegan's role. When they go out, it is
common to run into at least someone who
knows or recognizes Weinstein and wants
to talk about the accident.

Eileen Keegan and Gary Weinstein

