0 0 0 0 0 8B The Statement // Wednesday, February 3, 2010 PERSONALSTATEMENT HAITI RELIEF BY BETSY HEUBNER F riday morning I woke to a text from my friend Brian that read, "Call me now!" A friend of his runs an adoption agency in Colo- rado and had sent an e-mail asking for people to go to Fort Lauderdale to help with children coming in from Haiti. The agency had been promised visas for about 500 Haitian orphans and they needed volunteers in Flor- ida to take care of the children until their adoptive parents could pick them up. Brian and I left for the air- port later that day. Shortly after we arrived in Florida, we found that the kids wouldn't be allowed out of Haiti without escorts, so we booked a flight for Port-au- Prince and left the next morning. We landed in Haiti at noon on Sun- day and arrived at the U.S. Embassy at 5 p.m. We were taken to where the kids were staying and met the social worker there. The only thing she said to me after I introduced myself was, "OK, take these kids and do what- ANTONIO BASS From Page 5B and watch with his mother because he couldn't watch it alone. Hobbling through the living room, trying to pace back-and-forth, Tami kept yelling at her son to calm down. He wasn't supposed to be on his feet yet, but he couldn't help it. "Just everything about that game was so overwhelming," Bass says. As much as he missed football, Bass was able to put his post-injury life in perspective pretty easily. He never thought about dropping out or transferring; he knew that a degree from the University of Michigan was too good an opportunity to pass up. "When I first came here, I knew that football was necessary for me as a tool," he said. "I was blessed with the ability to play football, but it got me to college, a great university. If football never worked out, I knew I would always have a degree. Even at that time, I knew that if one door closed, another would open." A Communication Studies major, Bass graduated in December and will be walking in May. Currently, he's ever it takes to get them out of here tonight." Then the Marines shuttled all of us back to the airport and we prepared to leave the country. To me, the saddest part about the trip was that of the 50 or so kids on our flight, not a single one cried at takeoff, and only one cried during the entire trip. They've learned that nobody responds when they cry - to them, it's just not worth the effort. We got to Orlando at around 1:30 a.m. and headed to customs. That was the only point during the trip that was really hard for me - heavy backpack, baby on each hip, running on little sleep. The customs officials didn't know where to put us, so we stood around before they ushered us to a holding area where we waited for 21 hours. The only kids who were allowed out of Haiti were those who were already matched with adoptive fami- lies - some had been matched for one and a half to two years and their working as a sales representative at a local steel manufacturer, applying for jobs across the country and enjoying the time he has left in Ann Arbor. Football is done, but his life is just beginning. The Return: On May 1, 2010, Bass will walk through the tunnel at Michigan Stadium for the last time. He won't have a winged helmet or slap the "Go Blue" banner. He won't walk arm-in-arm with his mother over the block 'M,' the rite of passage for every Michigan football senior before his last home game. The grandstands won't be nearly as full as they were on Nov. 19, 2005, the last time he stepped onto that field in his uniform, when 111,591 fans packed the Big House against Ohio State. Instead, he'll walk out in his cap and gown, with his family in atten- dance and take his seat among the rest of the class of 2010, knowing that without football - and without the agony of his horrific injury - he would not be where he is right now. "I'm loving it," Tami said. "Don't quit school. There's something more out there for you. He didn't let it get was done. So much was just starting for the parents; so much had abruptly ended forus. The next day I left for the airport and returned to my regular life in Ann Arbor. This story is brief - there's so much more I could talk about, like the dangers of child trafficking and how a more efficient way of helping adoptive parents had already vis- these children get connected with ited multiple times, but hadn't been their adoptive parents has to exist. allowed out until now. I could talk about how the media Watching the looks on the adop- sensationalizes everything and how tive parents' faces as we brought ridiculous it is that people are using their kids to them and the tears in this disaster for PR. I could talk about their eyes as we put the children in how aid workers have come together their arms will remain one of the best to help in so many ways when they don't have to. "T e I could talk about The only thing she said to me our military and its w t e ahumanitarian work was, OK, take these kids and do and how crazy it was whatever it takes to get them out that I felt very safe while in Haiti. I could of (Haiti) tonight.'" talk about a little boy I met with chunks of flesh missing from his moments of my life. head and nerve damage in his right It was weird walking away after arm who hadn't seen his mother handing the last of the children to since the earthquake. I could talk their parents. Another volunteer and about an adoptive mother who had I were the only adults left, and walk- two little girls matched with her only ing outside I thought, "It's over?" We to find that one had died. had been working on little sleep for I could talk about how awful it days and then, within ten minutes, it was for the adoptive mothers who had to wait and wait and wait with no news, knowing there was nothing they could do to help. How they had no guarantees they'd get totake their child home even though they were standing in the same airport. I could tell you about the heartbro- ken parents who had already waited for years, only to find out that their kids might not come home for weeks. I could talk about the mother who, while waiting for her adoptive child, found out her father had suffered a heart attack and had to take her new daughter straight to the hospital from customs. I could talk about how children in orphanages are sick all the time because there's no way to keep them from sharing cups or food, but that there is no way to remedy that - especially with more kids outside the orphanage door every day. I could talk about the peeling skin of the children, their itchy heads, their runny noses, their diarrhea and their parasites. I could talk about a lot of things I witnessed. But what I will talk about is how, no matter the sacrifice, the best thing for any orphan is a family that will love him and value him and teach him and raise him and prepare him for life in this world. - Betsy Heubner is a University alum. him down. Sports isn't everything. You need to get your degree. You're not guaranteed to get in the League, and if you do, you're not guaranteed that you won't get injured when you get there. But you always have your degree." Bass is grateful to be here. He thanks God, coach Carr, his mom and his teammates. He admits that sometimes, he daydreams about get- ting back on the football field - and it has crossed his mind that his skill- set would have made him the perfect quarterback for Rich Rodriguez's offense in 2008, what would have been his senior year, had he never gotten injured. But those thoughts are fleeting and fewer nowadays. And on May 1, in the building in which he once showcased his promis- ing potential, surrounded by the mem- ories of football - the block 'M' and the fight song, walking through the tunnel and seeingthe expansive stands of Michigan Stadium - he won't be thinking about football much. His thought will be occupied by his new college degree - what he really came to the University to achieve - and his future. E THINK YOU'RE SWASHBUCKLING ENOUGH TO WRITE FOR THE STATEMENT? SEND A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE TO CALERO@MICHIGANDAILY.COM TO GET STARRRRTED.