“Excellence must be pursued, it must be wooed with all of one’s might and every bit of effort that we have. . . . All of the noise and all of the glamour, all of the color, all of the excitement, all of the rings and all of the money: These are the things that linger only in the memory. But the spirit, the will to excel, the will to win, these are the things that endure.”—Vince Lombardi |
Incredible 4-year life update!
I feel like I’ve rounded the corner of the oddest four years of my life and want to share some details with you. Lives have been changed and impacted by these developments. Just after my fortieth birthday, in late 2019, I learned the Patio Restaurant in Quincy was closing and even though I didn’t live there, it felt like a real punch in the gut. Of course, all good things come to an end, but I just couldn’t imagine the Patio closing, particularly because of the impact the restaurant—and those who frequented it—had on my life. So, Jay and I made an offer to purchase the restaurant and the property, and eventually we reached an agreement with Mark & Kim. I had spent the four months leading up to that planning for my third plastic surgery that had been 15 years in the making; I wanted to have excess breast and abdominal tissue removed from a previous weight gain. After two abdominal surgeries (14 hours of surgery!), I still had serious amounts of tissue that had to go, particularly in my chest area. Jay and I traveled to Indonesia in January with some friends; when we returned, and I had surgery in St. Louis, where I was able to recover with my friends Bobby and Mike. Just one month later, COVID happened and here we were with a restaurant and 54 apartments in Quincy, Illinois. I was excited because I still had an opportunity to spend what I thought would be at least ten great years with Nanny Jane, but because of COVID, I didn’t see her until she passed in July 2020. After she passed, I did what I always do after a trauma, and doubled down on my work. Without missing a beat, I said “Yeah, sure, I’ll chair Red Ribbon Gala in 2021 and while I’m at it, I’ll chair it again in 2023.” I was disappointed and mad at the universe for disrupting my plan in Quincy, but the heart and kindness of Quincy, combined with my work, helped the healing process …or at least pushed the hurt down. Meanwhile, we decided to buy two other Quincy properties, and then double down in that work! Nanny Jane always said, “If you start something, honey, you had better finish it.” And so that’s what we’ve done in Quincy since January 2020. Also in 2020, our friend and colleague, Dr. Preston Phillips, asked that we join him in West Togo, Africa, for a surgical mission we had supported financially for a few years. We said YES, but of course, it was canceled. And then the rescheduled 2021 trip was canceled. 2022 was going to be our year. Prior to leaving on the trip in 2020, Dr. Phillips said, “Ryan, you should trace your lineage in Africa to see where you came from.” And so, I took a DNA test. Because of COVID, I didn’t look at the results email; my story, my DNA, sat in my inbox while the world fell apart. When we rebooked our trip for 2022, I decided to read that email and figure out where I came from. It was so challenging. I really didn’t have time to investigate it and none of it made any sense. I reached out to my friend Val (who really, really enjoys genealogy) and asked her to help me understand all this new information and to reach out to my aunts and uncles on my dad’s side to help fill in the blanks. I knew they wanted to know as well. Val spent months working with my Aunt Dorothy doing just that and learning the who, what, where, when of my family. May 2022, a month before we were set to leave for West Togo, Val called to tell me great news: she had filled in all the holes, and she could in fact see the slave schedules where my family came over via the Northwest Passage. But then things took a little bit of a turn when she said, “The only problem is, Ryan, you actually don’t share DNA with them.” “Your dad, the man who raised you, is not your biological father…” Val and I spent a good amount of time talking about what I would do next. Would I go find my father and my new family or would I leave it alone? Of course, I called Karen Dean. I talked with Jay. Talked with some of my friends. I was torn. After losing a father and a mother, both to murder, a cousin to murder, and grandparents who loved me dearly, I reasoned that I didn’t need any more loss in my life, if I had a choice…and yet, at the same time, I knew I needed to know my truth. Two weeks later, when Jay and I landed in New York for the Yellow Fever vaccine for our trip to West Togo, we received devastating news: Dr. Phillips and others had been murdered in their office at Saint Francis Hospital. It was pouring down rain in New York City. It was raining so loud you could barely talk over it, and I will never forget the look of loss and sadness in Jay’s face. We both knew that had we not flown to NY for the vaccine, that Jay would have been right there with Dr. Phillips, as he had been for the past 10 years. Like clockwork, Jay always visited Dr. Phillips at that time. For the next five months, Jay worked through survivor’s guilt. Trust me when I say our home was not a happy home. Lots of crying, lots of anger, and a lot of bedtime consumed us. Life does not pause, patients still need surgery, tenants still need repairs, employees need to be paid, and Quincians need to eat. So we kept moving, per usual. At my request, Val continued her research and in doing so found an aunt named Lillian. Val reached out to Lillian and continued her work to find my family. The day we were set to depart for Africa, a little notification popped up on my cell phone with a new DNAmatch. That DNA match would be my father, very much alive…and based on his looks, very much my dad. Over the past year, I have felt every emotion. Some days, it has been really hard continuing to maintain my friendships, my relationship with Jay, my work ethic, my commitment to Tulsa CARES, my commitment to chairing Red Ribbon again. In some ways—very tiny ways—I feel robbed. In other ways—great BIG ways—I am grateful for the opposites in my life because that is where the tension lies, but that tension can create remarkable outcomes. At first, I was really upset that I had experienced so much loss for something that wasn’t, at a minimum, biologically true. I was pissed. Some days, putting my feet on the floor was not an option. I learned throughout this DNA discovery process that some people on my mother’s side, including Nanny Jane, knew my biological truth, and yet no one told me. One memory that is particularly haunting: when my father was murdered in 1992, my mom did not attend the funeral. Nanny Jane dropped me off at his service, and now, all these years later, I am left to reconcile with how and why on my own. I’m blessed to have amazing health care. I know that many don’t; access to healthcare has made all the difference in my life over the past four years. I am incredibly grateful for the mental health team of professionals who have taken care of me. Eventually, I will decide to fully accept my truth; I have generally accepted what I now know, but I haven’t yet found a way to be exactly cheerful about it. But I will prevail. Over the past year, I’ve been so fortunate to meet my new aunt, Lillian, and in November of last year, I was blessed to be the first recipient of Quincy Public School’s Distinguished Alumni Award. That moment felt like I was a million miles from where I started, and yet there I was where it all began: in Quincy, joined by my friends, my teachers, administrators, and yes, my dad, and my aunt. It sounds silly, but as I looked out into crowd that evening, it was one of just a few times in my life that I felt worthy. It was a night that had been 43 years in the making and yet all along I had no idea it was coming. I’m writing this today because I know that I am not alone. I want others to feel hope when that seems impossible, and to understand one important thing: the common thread to my entire story—and I’d argue this is true for our shared human condition—is that we must learn how to forgive. It would be perfectly normal for my heart to filled with hate, but because I have learned how to forgive, I have learned how to love. It takes work. Every day. But it’s worth the effort. What I know for sure: The more honest I am with you, the freer I am. I want to thank Val, Karen, everyone in Quincy, our team at the Patio, Jay, our family, Mona, everyone at Tanninger Companies… I want to say thank you and I love you so much to Pat, Greg, the OGs, Dooley, Justin, Gabe, Tyler, Jesse, Aaron, Hunter, Tony, Robbie, Chris, Ben, Ian, Erin, Robin, the Daniels, Stephanie, Kara…if I didn’t have such remarkable people constantly hugging, supporting, and encouraging me, helping me see something that I don’t always see, my outcome would be very different. I wouldn’t be able to serve in all the capacities that bring meaning to my life. Today, finally, I told my aunt and uncle, my family from Hannibal, including my brother and sister, the story my DNA tells. Although we are not biologically connected, because of our shared human experience, we know exactly how to move forward. Together. And that means more than you know. When I told Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Richard they said, “Well, you’re still Ryan and we love you. We’re happy you found them! Now, you have two dads and about 200 new family members. We love you even more! We constantly tell anyone who will listen about your life, what you’ve done, well tell them about the man you’ve become, what you’ve overcome. Other young men need to hear your story so that they have hope. You are special, Ryan.” So many people need to be told that. We all need to feel it. I guess, lastly, I would say that I’m grateful for the totality of my life, even the bad. But more than that, had I not learned at such a young age how important it is to give of yourself, had I not given part of my heart to Africa, Dr. Phillips would never have suggested I take that DNA test. That commitment to others is how Quincy made me. I recently met with some of Preston’s family; I wanted them to know that I know what it’s like to have your father, or anyone you love, gunned down. And although I know this does not make anything easier on them, I wanted them to know that it was Dr. Phillips’ work, his compassion for those who need, to help the most vulnerable, that led me to my father and a new opportunity for more family to call mine. I will hold them, and sweet Dr. Phillips, in my heart forever. For those I forgot to mention, please know that I have not forgotten you. Up, up and away! Ryan |