The road was rocky but the view is worth it!

The memories on my social media feeds remind me of summers past. Not that I could forget. 

The feed of photos from the triplets' teen years could explain why my stomach knots up when I think about our time in Arizona. One surgery after another. 

One hard recovery after another. One summer spent squeezing in fun around all the therapies, the casts, the incisions that needed to heal.

(I would be remiss if I didn't point out that my memory feed also points to amazing friends who stood with us, prayed with us, sent movies and meals to us -- from near and far! We are ever grateful!)

Last week I drove Mason to Newark, New Jersey to catch his flight to Athens, Greece. I was a bit teary-eyed and had to explain that it was not because he was leaving (I mean hello. Of course some of the tears were because he was leaving, I like my people here, within arms' reach! ;) ), but rather because I was completely overwhelmed with gratitude that all those summers spent recovering, rehabbing, working to make his legs be the best they can be was for this. He did the work, endured the pain, and overcame the challenges so that today he could lead students as they dig in Ancient Corinth, Greece!!

Mason's view in Greece!

Benjamin is hanging close to home for now -- working with his advocacy group and welcoming them here as often as possible. He met with our state legislators last week and helped convince them to raise the state reimbursement rate for personal care attendants!! His willingness to put in the work and use his experiences, and his gift for speaking to improve care for all people with disabilities amazes me daily. 

With Senator Laura Sturgeon

Delaware Legislative Hall

I wouldn't exactly want to re-live those summers although I miss having my little crew all under one roof. But on this side of the healing, I am so grateful -- for the medical teams, the prayer warriors, the hand-holders and the amazing young men who endured it all!

Lowering my eyebrows.

The flight attendant had legitimate tears in her eyes as she apologized to us. She turned her back, assuming the through-passengers on the flight last night were making a space for us as Wade carried our son onto the plane.

They weren't.

It wasn't a full flight. I am sure they had been told that. So the handful of passengers traveling through Birmingham on to Baltimore spread themselves over the first five rows of the plane. We love to fly Southwest because with the no-assigned-seat-policy we can load Benjamin easily in the first row or two. Either Wade or I can carry him that far. But last night as I took all the removable pieces that I possibly could off of the wheelchair (so that it is battered as little as possible), and as my daughters followed their dad and brother carrying everything I had handed them thus far (headrest, iPad arms...), no one moved. And more, they made faces of disgust that my 13-year-old witnessed and will never forget. And so when I entered carrying the cushion for the chair, the hip guides, the joystick, I turned the corner expecting to see my family and instead they were all the way on row six. 

Let me assure you that the sixth row may seem close to you if you are rolling your carry-on luggage. It is a mile away if you are carrying your grown son and a million pieces of equipment.

And so as soon as I sat, the flight attendant was at my side. "I have worked for Southwest for 37 years. People are usually so good about moving. I am so sorry that I wasn't more helpful. I assumed they were doing what they could to help you. I am so sorry."

When we landed in Birmingham just days before, we exited the plane and went straight to a companion restroom for Benjamin. It was locked but we have learned we should wait because often there isn't more than one (We now know there is in Birmingham and next time we won't wait!). So we waited and waited. Finally the door opened and a well-dressed middle-aged man exited. He looked me straight in the eyes but I didn't speak just moved to grab the door for Benjamin.

"Don't look at me like that, lady! I just had cancer surgery and needed my privacy," he yelled at us. "I am sorry you had to wait."

He didn't sound sorry. He sounded scary. Benjamin thought he was about to strike me. I simply told the man how sorry we were he had surgery as we entered the bathroom. But I was shaking.

We discussed it when the door was closed and locked. We discussed what look I had that made him so angry -- I confess my eyebrows probably raised from years and years of having single people walk out of the only companion restroom in a public space -- and we discussed how he could have said the same words with a less scary tone and the encounter would have been completely different. And then we discussed how angry he must be right now with his own circumstances to lash out at us.

Today, I want to curl up on my own couch and never leave home. I want to stay where no one is staring at us. I want to stay where not one is yelling at us. I want to stay in my safe place.

Except that we won't stay home. We like to go and travel and be out and about. But the inability to trust people to behave in a civilized manner has scarred me. I realize that both of these situations have become more and more frequent of late. I find that I am shocked when people actually treat us kindly. I am shocked when they show respect to my sons. I find that I enter situations expecting rude stares, and condescending interactions, and anger. So much anger. 

How horribly sad is that?

We can do better. We must do better.

I'll start by working on my eyebrows.

Consider this an awareness post.

March is World Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. You know the drill. I try to educate every single day here and on every social media platform I can find. Before social media was a thing, I worked like a crazy woman to send a Christmas card every single year that made the world a little more aware of what CP is and looks like. It is just who I am -- I want to make the world more aware, more sensitive, more user-friendly for the people I love. You can click on Cerebral Palsy in my sidebar under the list of "Specific Blessings" and find no fewer than 50 posts. There are more than 200 under "Special Needs Parenting". I desperately want you to be aware.

And yet.

Yet, I have started and stopped my CP Awareness post for this month several times already. I know what I want to say but the words are trapped in my head and keep escaping as tears instead. (I hate when that happens....but let's go on and just file it under Special Needs Parenting.)

We have planned a little mini-Spring Break trip to Chicago next week. Wade has to be there for work, so the kids and I thought we would join him -- you know, show Cate the place of the triplets' birth and eat lots of pizza!

But our Benjamin has decided that after the fiasco in January with Southwest Airlines and his wheelchair (Did you read this?), he doesn't want to make the trip. He knows that he is in a crazy busy season as he finishes his senior year of college and graduates and he is afraid to risk the airlines destroying his wheelchair, again. He prefers to stay home with his attendants and forgo family fun because he simply doesn't have time for the repairs AGAIN (we JUST finished them from the January trip last week!).

Dad and boys at Wrigley Field!

Outside our apartment in Chicago!

I am so sad. Heartbroken, really. I love nothing as much as having my family together making memories. But I hear Benjamin's heart and I am committing to support him. And so the flip side of being heartbroken, is being angry. And I am just so mad that all of the awareness posts, all of the education talks, all of the social media everythings haven't made a dent in how people with Cerebral Palsy face the day to day. I am just weary and teary and sad and mad. 

We love to travel. Love it. But until the airlines commit to making it better....Benjamin will think long and hard about a trip before committing. He will miss out on so much and yet, I can't blame him.

Last week a UPS truck was parked in the accessible loading zone between two accessible parking spaces. As the driver walked past me, I asked him to not park there in the future. I explained why. He rolled his eyes. He pointed to the ramp and assured me that he didn't block it. I took a deep breath and explained how Benjamin could not use the ramp at all if he couldn't exit the van. And he couldn't exit the van because the UPS driver was parked in the accessible loading zone -- in the striped DO NOT PARK HERE zone. He scowled at me and climbed in his truck with a "Call and complain then."

So I tweeted. UPS followed-up almost immediately and asked for details. I sent them. Then they sent this:

And I was flabbergasted and so responded with this:

And it has been crickets ever since. They documented it. They never said it wouldn't happen again. They didn't say they would educate their drivers. NOTHING.

And so here I am yelling that we need awareness. I am begging for a chance to offer my wisdom. I can speak at a Southwest team meeting. I can write an article for the UPS employee newsletter. I can consult or advise or help in any way.

But I fear these corporations do not care. They have customers who aren't affected/angered by the fact that they damage the wheelchair every time a person like Benjamin flies. They have customers who are not harmed when they can not exit their vehicle because the easiest place for the UPS truck to park is the Accessible Loading Zone. And so they just don't care.

Mason and Benjamin serve on numerous accessibility awareness groups and they have called me frustrated many times. Mason sums it up best:

"Cerebral Palsy isn't sexy."

It doesn't get the attention other marginalized populations generate. UPS driver legitimately did not care. The airlines -- Southwest is only the most recent to damage the chair -- do not care.

The bottom line is that until someone in power is affected by Cerebral palsy  -- or any physical disability -- there is little hope that they will change.

And yet we roll on. We roll. We march. We will crawl if we have to. In an effort to keep fighting this fight -- keep educating the masses. 

Cerebral Palsy is not the biggest barrier my boys have to overcome. Absolute indifference from the society in which we live is far far bigger.

It is so past time for that to change.

Response from Southwest and how we move forward (literally!)

Earlier this week, I did what I do and used my voice here to gather my wits, organize my thoughts, and purge some very strong emotions. Perhaps you read those musings, my blog on our mistreatment by Southwest Airlines. Many of you were kind enough to share on Facebook and Twitter and help spread the word that the behavior was wholly unacceptable.

One tweet, garnered a response from Southwest. Just one. The responder urged me to send a direct message via Twitter outlining the incident. I did so in great detail.

The initial response was pure public relations:

It is never our intention to disappoint? What? Well, of course not. It is never anyone's intention to disappoint -- is it? But when I reached the part where she told me that "We know that once you land you're ready to be on your way, and traveling with children can be stressful...." I knew she had not even taken the time to read my message to her -- much less the blog post. 

I waited a few hours. My emotions need to subside a bit first. Then I explained that it was evident she hadn't read our story and had no idea what had happened. I explained it again. I attached a photo of Benjamin forcefully-reclined in his chair. I gave her their ages for pete's sake. I wasn't traveling with CHILDREN and I wasn't just eager to be on my way. The Southwest team did a poor poor job Monday night in New Orleans. Period. Not one piece of this was on me or my expectations. 

And yet, I still ended my message to her by offering to help make it better myself. I told her that Special Needs Moms are a fabulously informed group and that I could put together a team who could help with training, work together with the airline to teach their team how to handle/help families like our's.

The next response was warmer -- and from a different team member.

Clearly, Alice is their go-to response writer when they need more feelings. I appreciated her "heart-felt" apologies. They also sent a $250 voucher. So one of us can almost take a trip now. Super.

I keep waiting for my phone to ring. I have carried it around all week, hoping for a call. And listen, I am not hoping for the call because I want to add airline consultant to my resume. I am hoping for the call because I desperately need to believe that someone cares. I desperately need to believe that someone in the "Senior Leadership" hears the saga of our Monday night in New Orleans, and thinks "Oh my gosh, we HAVE to do better."

In the meantime, I am on a mission to do what I can to improve travel for our families. My heart breaks when I hear from other mothers that they simply DO NOT travel because of fear that their child's wheelchair will be damaged/destroyed. It is just too hard.

I hear you, Moms. I get it. I feel that sometimes too -- I know the chair is safe if I am driving it myself in our van. I know that Benjamin is secure on our travels when he is IN his chair, with the supports his body requires. Flying means that we remove his legs and put him in an unstable environment (the plane seats) and furthermore, if we want to save wear and tear on the chair, then we do what we did in Dallas and allow them to simply move the chair from one cargo to the next meaning Benjamin spent the layover in one of the airport wheelchairs completely unsupported!!

Me to Wheelchair attendant at Dallas Love Field: "Does that have a seat belt at least?"

Attendant: "No Ma'am!! But don't worry he won't need one!"

Um, yes he will. Benjamin -- and all the bazillion amazing people like Benjamin -- can NOT hold themselves safely in any chair much less a MOVING chair with no seatbelt!!!!!! I don't care how good a "driver" dear attendant thought he was. That had nothing to do with it.

Sigh.

So let's start making it better. Would it help to have placards attached to our wheelchair like this:

We plan to print this on card stock and laminate it. We'll punch a hole and hang it on the wheelchair the next time we travel.

We already remove the headrest (to shorten the chair),  the seat cushion (it is inflatable so we don't want it accidentally punctured); the arm that holds his iPad. On his last chair, I could easily unplug the joystick and we would carry that on the plane. But this chair is SO heavy (400 lbs) that it is almost impossible to push in manual mode (Please ask me, I am all too aware of that after Monday night!) that we leave the joystick on in case they prefer driving it with power.

Can you see us loading the plane carrying all of this? Perhaps you have. Hear me. We are willing to do our part. We are not asking for a one-sided system. What else can we do to make traveling possible for our family and for all the families like ours? I am listening?? I am ready to spread the word!

A letter of apology.

Dear Brooke -- of the New Orleans Southwest Baggage Claim Customer Service Office,

I once taught my children that if you must say "I am sorry but...." then it is probably not a sincere apology. Sincere apologies should be "I am sorry."

So, I guess I am sorry that I can not offer you a sincere apology for losing it with you tonight. Because I am sorry. BUT.

I am sorry because it really wasn't your fault that the baggage handlers had dismantled Benjamin's wheelchair (in Dallas or Philadelphia possibly, if not New Orleans) in such a way that it was completely reclined and with zero power to sit it back up. It wasn't your fault that after waiting inside the empty airplane for half an hour, I had to transfer my son into a lying down position because someone with your airline had treated this chair with absolute disregard for the life that is dependent on it.

I am sorry because it really wasn't your fault that though your team DID push the 400 pounds of wheelchair and 120+ pounds of man up the bridge, they went no further. It wasn't your fault that they left us in the gate and left me to push the 500+ pounds through the New Orleans airport, up multiple inclines while my 13-year-old carried all the carry-on luggage herself to try and help me when NO Southwest crew offered a finger.

I am sorry because you really didn't know all of that had occurred before we walked past you looking for our luggage. But, and here is the reason I feel like I can not be sincere with my apology, you DID see me pushing a reclined, pained, young man. You saw my red-face. You saw the sweat on my brow and running down my face. And when I realized you had my luggage, YOU could have offered assistance in some way when you heard my son panicked that I was walking away from him while he felt he was in such a vulnerable position. You could have explained that you needed identification now that our bags were in your possession -- i.d. that you wouldn't have needed had we been able to grab them ourself off the conveyor but because of your airline's delay now we were facing you.

Instead, Brooke, you were harsh. Instead, you told me I couldn't touch that luggage without identification. I explained that we had been delayed on the Southwest airplane because of the wheelchair. You said you didn't care. I was trembling from exhaustion. I am not sure I have ever trembled from exhaustion before tonight. But nonetheless, I walked back to find Cate who had my purse in her efforts to help, and was walking from the end of baggage claim. You and your co-workers (I am really sorry I don't have their names) rolled your eyes and ridiculed me. We saw it all. I brought you my claim tickets. I dropped them because my hands weren't even steady. We took our little bags from you.

You didn't even offer an "I'm sorry this was a rough experience." You returned to the desk where you and your team continued to speak about me loudly enough for me to hear. I told you I would write a letter. You told me you would write one too. What does that even mean?

I am sorry that you did not deserve all of my wrath tonight. But I am also sorry that you did not deserve to be working in a customer SERVICE area and representing an airline that claims to care.

Sincerely,

A mother who is always willing to work harder so her son can travel, but will go to bed tonight sore from physically exhausting herself, sad from setting a bad example for her 13-year-old by losing her temper, and broken-hearted that you just didn't care.

P.S.

Dear Southwest Airlines, your pilots were charming; your flight attendants delightful and helpful. We drove three hours past our nearest airport JUST so we could fly with your airline this weekend. But if you can't educate EVERYONE who wears Southwest on their lapel about what good quality customer service means, then I'm going to think long and hard before I do that again.

From my gate in the Philly airport.

The airport might be my favorite place to people-watch. And people-watching is definitely one of my favorite things.

Today, I observed a little teeny tiny baby in a stroller. Bazillions of people were all around her -- I say bazillions, it was the security line so honestly it might be more! ;) -- but this little doll baby only had eyes for her mommy. Those eyes were locked in watching mom's every single move. I couldn't help but wonder if mom knew how fast those eyes would find the rest of the world. I couldn't help but wonder if she was desperate for a moment alone -- a bathroom break even -- where she didn't have little eyes watching her. I wanted to hug her gently and encourage her exhausted spirit.

The one in bazillion in line right in front of me had tattoos on every visible surface. I will admit that I was mesmerized trying to read the words behind each ear (One said "Love to hate" and the other "Hate to love.") but it was the spider web all over the back of his ear that fascinated me most. Ouch. I was wondering what drives someone to cover every surface when he turned around and asked where I was going. I laughingly asked if he could tell I had been reading every tattoo on his head....he couldn't but admitted that he often forgets and then asks people what the **** they are looking at? I was rather glad he hadn't felt my eyes. We had a lovely talk about the choices  and if the spider web was painful (It was.). The conversation was as colorful as the tattoos on his head and neck and I might have cringed a bit (I can't help it. I think there are enough words in the English language to avoid a couple....) and then he looked me straight in the face and asked if I could see the tattoos looking at him straight on. I could but just barely and just the ones at the edge of his face. He told me his mama told him to do that. "She said, 'Leave your face, clean, son'" he explained, "And I've always listened to my mama." 

And suddenly the two people I had been observing while waiting in the line, didn't seem so far apart. 

Oh mamas, those little eyes are watching us, they are. And though, I promise, you will eventually get to the bathroom alone (I have been told this anyway), your child will keep his eyes on you and your influence for far longer than you imagine!

The Good. The Bad. And the Ugly.

Sorting through the thousand or so photos I took over the last two weeks, I am struck by the absolute beauty of this trip. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that we had this experience. And after a semester having my family separated by thousands of miles, I confess that I took as many photos of my crew as I did the scenery and I do not apologize for that even a little bit. (Especially since we left Mason studying off the coast of Spain so already we are separate...again.)

But I am also keenly aware that my photographs are of the good moments. I don't stop and photograph the hard times -- though I try to be honest about them -- and so am always struck when people comment about how happy we are "always".....seriously, that is not our reality and I don't want you to think it is.

So, if you are interested in a traveler's tale, please grab some coffee. I have about a million photos I want to share and might get a bit long-winded!

Let's start with the good:

1. Gelato. Holy smokes, the gelato was so divine. And this little gelato spot in particular made us smile for a myriad of reasons -- not the least of which, they recognized us upon our return and welcomed us back!

2. Entrance Fees.  We usually only paid for one or at the most one adult and one child. Italy's policy is that those with disabilities enter free, as does one companion. 

View from the Coliseum!

3. The history.  From the Arch of Constantine and the reminder that it was Constantine who returned to Rome demanding everyone become "Christian." To the Coliseum, where for 390 years, battles were reenacted, executions were held, prisoners were fighting wild animals for their freedom, and all in the name of entertainment. In those years more than 400,000 people died.

We saw the forums of Rome's mighty leaders. We toured the Vatican and saw the Sistine Chapel (I posted photos from those sights here and also here). And toured St. Paul's Basilica, built where Paul is buried. Seeing the actual chains from when Paul was imprisoned was emotional. 

And convicting. Paul wrote from his prison cell:

"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Philippians 4:11

Oh, I need to have that level of contentment.

Outside of St. Paul's.

Inside St. Paul's Benjamin had plenty of room to navigate.

The eternal flame burning at the altar where Paul's prison chains are housed.

For perspective -- the columns were huge at the Basilica.

4. The pizza. Need I say more?

5. Tour guides. We made a wise decision prior to our travels and hired an accessible van for two days in Rome, the drive to our ship, and to also meet us at the port of Livorno to take us to Pisa and around Florence. On these days, Benjamin had to navigate the roads much less and Mason had to walk the cobblestones much less. They still had to....but the reprieve between major sites was a nice change.

We used www.romeconnection.com for these drivers and tour guides. They did an outstanding job helping us navigate the ancient cities!

With Marco, our tour guide for two days in Rome. Marco got us into and around the Vatican as if it were easy -- it is not. We were so thankful for his expertise!

With Heliana, our fantastic tour guide in Florence! The history this woman knew was incredible and so fascinating! 

With Florin -- our absolutely delightful driver! He and this van were an absolute game-changer!!!

6. The views. Once upon a time, I read a little book -- "The Red Sails of Capri" -- aloud to Cate that promptly drew her teenage-siblings' attention and enthralled us all. We have dreamt for years of visiting Capri. It did not disappoint.

And of course, my archaeologist son, Mason, was thrilled to visit Pompeii. He worked harder than he has ever had to in order to navigate these enormous cobble stones of the ruins but did not stop smiling the entire time!

Under an arch in Pompeii with Mt. Vesuvius behind them! Look at the size of those cobblestones!

The tour guide was enthralled with Mason's enthusiasm and knowledge. Of course.

She hardly had to break a sweat to hold it up! :)

She didn't either! (And no, the boys would have no part in the silly photos!)

Overlooking Florence in all her splendor!

And from the bridge in Florence.

A calanque (creek)  in Cassis.

In the village of Cassis, France.

7. Family Time. Oh man how I loved needing a table for SIX for every dinner!!

The Bad.

1. When we clicked wheelchair-access on the Disney Cruise site, all excursion options disappeared. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. We considered not taking the cruise at all. Not taking the trip at all. But the bottom line was that I desperately wanted my crew to experience Italy. And I also knew that Disney would ensure our rooms at night and our meals were accessible. Beyond that we were on our own.

So, Benjamin was able to tour Rome. Because we flew there and arranged our own tours.

Shrader SIX in the Coliseum!

He was able to see the tower in Pisa, and sight see in Florence. Again, because WE arranged the van and tour guides who would give us an accessible option.

My fab four in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa!

All six Shraders able to see the Duomo in Florence!

But he wasn't able to get off the ship in Capri. Or Marseilles. Or Cannes. So he and Dad stayed on the ship. He enjoyed every minute. He loves that boat. He WON six out of six Disney Trivia contests, was known by many families around the ship due to his wins, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. But still. He missed Capri.

Only four Shraders could see the majesty of Capri.

 And Cassis.

And he missed the short walk we took through the streets of Cannes. And the crepes at the little sidewalks. And we missed sharing all of this with him and with Wade.

2. Cobblestones everywhere.

Giant cobblestones in Pompeii were a physical challenge but my archaeologist son still smiled every minute!

3. Exhaustion. We walked five to ten miles every sight-seeing day. The weather was lovely and yet, the sun got hot as we tried to rapidly see as many sights as possible. This trip was not for the faint of heart. Not even a little.

Girls napping while we wait for lunch (Pizza, what else?!) in Sorrento!

The Ugly.

1. Rome arrival. Detailed here. I can't even go into that again. Sigh.

2. My attitude. Oh man. In the first days of our time in Italy, I desperately wanted everyone to love it as much and as intensely as I had dreamt about them loving it.  And the hard-to-navigate roads, coupled with inconsistent curb-cut-outs of Rome were leaving Benjamin frustrated and a bit frantic so we needed to help him drive. This led to some short tempers. Ok, this led to my short temper. One day, I will learn to get my expectations out of the way.

Luckily, we remembered to flex before we were too many days in and the trip because much much more enjoyable after that.

3. Taxi in Barcelona. We disembarked Saturday morning in Barcelona. We had to get Mason to his Field School and so had opted to just fly home also. We booked our transfer from the ship to the airport through DISNEY. As guests poured off the ship, they loaded charter buses for their transfers. Not one was accessible. We were told to wait. We waited. They called for us and led us to a small van with a steep ramp. I mean steep ramp. The "van" was not tall enough for Benjamin to get into and you know, keep his head on. :)  We measured and angled and finally reclined him, drove him up the crazy ramp and then raised him back up as much as possible. The vehicle didn't hold us all and our luggage. So Wade and the luggage went on one of the buses. The kids and I in the taxi. (I will commend the taxi and bus drivers and say that they worked very hard to stay together. At one point, the bus driver pulled to the side of the road to wait for us. He obviously read our discomfort with being separated in an unknown city/country.)

3. Arriving back in Philadelphia. Same song, hundred and fifteenth verse. Plane lands. Passengers get off. Wheelchair does not arrive. We wait. Aisle chair arrives. I have to explain Benjamin can not get into that until his chair arrives. Entire flight crew gather round us. THANKFULLY, they all understood and just sat down and visited with us. But we waited 45 minutes for his wheelchair to be unloaded and brought to the jet way. Seriously, can I say AGAIN, that the time lost in us forcing airlines to have a lengthy flight turn-over could be avoided if they engineered a way for his wheelchair to lock down instead of having him transfer out of his chair!! (Before you criticize me, please know the drawings have been done and are actively being considered. I didn't just come up with this idea! Check out this video!)

Traveling with a disability is a struggle. We have left Mason in Spain where he is doing a field school at an ancient burial site. He is walking up five flights of stairs for housing, hiking through brush for half an hour, and working in the sun on his knees and belly all day. Clearly, we don't avoid the hard stuff. But really, there is no reason Disney can not provide excursions from this wonderful cruise itinerary that make it easier for families like ours to travel. I want to encourage families to not be afraid to explore the world -- but until companies like American Airlines, Disney, and other travel companies decide our patronage is valuable, and make an effort to ease the travel burden by providing more accessible options, I can only say that seeing the world is worthwhile, and seeing the world is hard.

I have some jet-lag to overcome but if you want to come by and see the other thousands of photos I wasn't able to include here, just give me a shout! :)

From the overlook in Florence!

www.romeconnection.com