Tag Archives: Jon Bones Jones

Don’t Let Cancer Win

Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, photoshops Jon Bones Jones on TV defending his title at UFC 172 main event in Baltimore“Mom, do you need anything brought to the cleaners?” my son asked, holding up a half- dozen dress shirts in shades of blues and red.
“What are all those for?” I asked. His eyes sparkled.
“If Jon wins,” he said gleaming, “parties.” The coming weekend, his friend, Jon Bones Jones, would defend his title as UFC Light Heavyweight Champion of the world.
As my son walked to his car, the colorful shirts fluttered in the wind, reminding me of Tibetan prayer flags. And suddenly hope was hugging me as I watched him drive off.

Jon’s fight; I had to see it. He had to win.

“So bloody. Too violent,” friends said when I canvassed to share the Pay-Per-View. To see the event I’d have to go to a bar, by myself, at ten on Saturday night. That was less likely than my son ironing shirts. But I was determined.
Googling the contender’s name, I couldn’t stop reading about his powerful blows and 20-game winning streak. Could Jon beat this guy? Memories of injuries from past fights pummeled at my hopes. I rubbed my eyes to wish on fallen lashes. I cried, imagining the dismal scene if he lost, the clean shirts put back upstairs unused. Please let Jon win.
For days I willed him to be strong and went without my daily glass of wine, to comply with his training regimen. Let Jon keep his title, I pleaded each night, looking up at the stars as I walked the dog. He has to win, I told myself all week. The last time I’d prayed this hard was near the end of my daughter’s almost three-year battle with leukemia. I needed a victory celebration.

“I’m so excited,” I emailed back to my friend Marcy when she confirmed I could watch the fight at her place. “I’m so nervous,” I told her husband and son-in-law as I plopped down on their couch during the preliminaries and quickly devoured the corn-chips.
Please win, I whispered as the match began.
Please, because I want my son to wear his dress shirts and be happy.
Win, because my daughter’s friend, Jake, an avid martial artist, had said, “Don’t let the cancer win,” before he died. And last week, Troy, one of her high school classmates, lost his fight against cancer. Because the National Cancer Institute reports survival rates for young adults with cancer have not improved like the rates for pediatric and adult cancers.

You have to win, Jon. Because I need to see more young people winning their fights and living their dreams.Robin Botie photoshops Jon Bones Jones winning UFC Light Heavyweight Championship

 

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Tweeting to Heal

friend of Robin Botie in Ithaca, New York, calls out her window to blue twittwer birdsWhat if, at any time of day or night, we could open our windows and yell out to the world who we are and what we need? And then be recognized and responded to?
“I’m Robin Botie. I lost my daughter to leukemia 3 years ago. I wrote a book and want to get it published. Please follow www.robinbotie.com

There’s something compelling about being heard and validated, and the image of people all over Earth hanging out howling. With this in mind, I brought home 2 books about Twitter for the weekend. In between morning hikes and Super Bowl commercials I would try to gain some understanding about this online site that promises community, connection, sharing, and conversations that flow around the world.

On www.twitter.com it feels like I’m in a crowded marketplace in another country where vendors scream in foreign languages from every direction to attract my attention.  The books tell me I can find people with similar interests, and even agents and publishers on Twitter. But reading the opening chapters, I am horrified to learn that for months I have been tweeting all the wrong things. Twitter etiquette demands you give thanks or praise to others, or share useful news, or, if you must direct attention to yourself, you may tout some wonderful accomplishment. All in no more than 140 characters including punctuation and spaces.

Envious of friends’ networking successes, I am determined to make Twitter work for me. I will get subscribers to my blog and feel validated in my online community among more than half a billion active users. Maybe I will attract an agent to my site. Maybe someone from a big publishing house will tweet me back, “ Your writing is superb. I want to publish your book.”

My son’s friend sends out a tweet, “Take a look my friends moms website and blog, robinbotie.com and follow her.” Jon Bones Jones has 800,000 followers. Surely a few of these folks have lost someone or something and will want to see my photos and read my stories about climbing up and out of grief. With fists clenched under my nose, I watch the screen. A tweet comes back almost immediately.

“robin botie is a hottie!”

My social media mentor, Simply Franee, calls me.
“Robin, you had 600 new visitors to your site on Sunday.” That’s neat, I’m thinking, now totally obsessed with calculating my responses to stay under 140 characters. And I’ve grown inches taller, my head in the clouds, remembering that I’m “a hottie.”

What do you think of Twitter?

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