Why is it so much easier to push aside the things that truly make us happy and feel alive than it is to these “other responsibilities”? And then, we find ourselves saying, “Where did the time/days go?” or “I can’t believe I haven’t done ____ in so long.” or “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I saw / spoke with ____.”

What if we gave that same attention and worry to the things that truly make us happy and feel alive? The things that, at the end of the day, make us say, “What an awesome day!”

Since Jack’s passing, I have personally tried to incorporate more of this into my life. And, as if I needed even more of a reminder to do so, I actually created a new holiday for my company on Jack’s birthday (Feb. 20^th) – Live Like Jack Day.

Why did I create this new holiday?

Two years ago when his first birthday [after his passing] was approaching, I knew that I was going to take the day off and was going to do something meaningful and appreciate life. I then thought to myself, “why don’t I give my company the same opportunity?” With that, Live Like Jack Day (Feb 20^th) became an official company holiday.

But, there are rules…

Basically, everyone gets this day off to do whatever they want and have a meaningful day. BUT if anyone is caught doing chores or running errands or playing catch up or whatever – they lose one vacation day! It’s that easy – have an amazing day and don’t worry about anything else.

What’s amazing is how easy and naturally living like this came to Jack. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone again who embraced life like he did in every aspect – getting outdoors, going on a trip, learning something new, spending time with friends and family, taking the time to teach others, acting like a kid, watching the sun rise, etc. There was never a thought of, “I’ll wait until tomorrow”. He just did it “today”.

Every day for Jack was a “Live Like Jack Day”.

So, I ask that our birthday gift to Jack is to continue incorporating more of this type of living into our daily lives. It’s ok to give priority to these meaningful things and let the “other responsibilities” wait until tomorrow. Because, as we all know, life is short and can be taken from us without warning.

As Abraham Lincoln said, “And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”

Jack may have only lived to be 37, but he had more life in those 37 years than most people do in 100.

Happy birthday, Jack! We all miss you so much. Thanks for being the eternal voice in the back of our heads reminding us to appreciate life and live each day to the fullest.

By: John Augst

My first trip down Little Falls

By: Steve Schultz

As all of you know, Jack loved a story. I know that he took a certain pride in telling this one. This event is a good one to start with as any, given the setting is in our back yard, Little Falls on the Potomac, and we get a fun moral out the telling.

Namely, trusting Jack was a bad idea.

Not really. More so, my little adventure is really more about how Jack pushed people to their limit in the most wonderful of ways, and how that translates in my life today.

When I first stepped to the feeder canal with my newly bought kayaking set up, I looked like the canoeing counselor from Meatballs. Yellow plastic helmet, huge red PFD, 1000 pound paddle, all 70’s vintage. My craft, one of the first production kayaks ever made. 11 feet of see-through plastic instability nicknamed, “The Walrus”. I had been practicing how to roll a kayak with Jack for about three weeks and the going was slow. While he showed me plenty, it wasn’t the easiest thing to explain to a slow learner like me. As goofy as Jack could be, the guy was a pretty good athlete, things came easier for him, but trying to explain how wasn’t the easiest for him. “Focus on form, Schultz!” wasn’t really cutting it, but time was up, Jack was getting antsy, and I really wanted to learn to paddle. So once again Jack assumed his roles as both big brother, teaching me to paddle, and little brother, urging me on an ill-advised run down Little Falls for the first time. Either way, we embarked on another adventure, and I had that typical feeling of, “Hey, I’m with Jack, I’ll be fine, that guy’s bullet proof”, and “Is this really a good idea?”

We paddled out to the main flow of the Potomac for my first time, seeing a huge wide open expanse after popping out of the little channel into the base of the dam is arresting for the first time in the sheer volume of water, vegetation and sunlight, its beautiful.   As we picked our way down the starting rapids, my inner monologue was racing, but I was trying to will myself to be cool, thinking it would get me down that much faster. As we bumped down the river, I didn’t really have the stones to try practice rolls mid-rapid, as they would have been my first.

Once we could see the Chain Bridge on the horizon, the sinking feeling really hit.

I could make out what I thought was the rapid, but really, it was just the top set of islands, the rapid sounded much bigger. As we pulled into the top eddy to steel our nerves, Jack gave me the head nod, “everything’s going to be fine, just focus on form.” We pealed out and started down the Maryland side of the rapid, which has two hydraulics on the left and right and two good sized consecutive diagonal crashing waves, which for an experienced boater are pretty tame, but for a completely un-initiated 70’s clad flailer “focusing on form”, I had little to no shot of emerging unscathed.

After the first wave hit me, I immediately went over, after three attempts, form failed me, and I swam out of my boat. As I saw Jack paddling over to me to clean up my yard sale, I felt something wrap around my neck and face and start to squeeze. Realizing that it was fishing line and tightening, I started trying to wrap my hand around the lead to stop some idiot from setting a hook or having the business end dig in. Jack started peeling the line off my face and I got it off my neck as I slid into a dirty eddy at the end of the rapid.   I found the hook, which had dug into my life jacket about an inch from my neck, worm, still intact. After catching my breath, yelling some kind words for the fishermen at Little Falls, I sat down to collect myself. As I looked at Jack, then down at the water, a dead carp stared back, belly up, floating in front of me. Jack and I just started laughing at the misery of it, and how badly this first combat paddling experience went. Walking back up from the river to our put in, we continued to laugh, another adventure in the books and thinking about the next time we could head out.

Now you may ask yourself, what’s the point?   While we all love to think of Jack as bullet proof, he flailed, sometimes, massively. At the same time, without the willingness to get a little dirty, life isn’t much fun. Jack brought me outside of my comfort zone more times than I can count, almost all of them, successful or not, though finished like this one, with a good laugh and a plan to do it again. I hate to say it, but for me, if I really want to live like Jack for a bit, I’ll be doing it by having the courage to embrace adventure and damn the consequences.   While it’s a little easier to do it with Jack at my side, his mark is indelible, and myself and those around me are better for it, with a laugh of course.

http://www.pwpla.com/national-911-memorial/landscape-design
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/g-roger-denson/michael-arads-911-memoria_b_955454.html

Click here to read more!

This photo collection always impresses our visitors, anglers and non-anglers alike. For us, it was a memory wall of some of Jacks’ and my favorite times…some together, some individually.  He loved to “walk down memory lane” each day at home and remember the amazing adventures he’d had.  Since Jack’s passing, that wall of photos has come to mean so much more to me.

 Amidst the raw pain of losing Jack, I’ve tried to focus on what we can learn from how he lived.  Jack had a “magic” about him.  He had an energy that was joyful, kind, and fun-loving that was infectious to all he interacted with, even if only for a few minutes. He stayed in touch with friends from childhood, and made new friends almost every day.  Jack lead or inspired so many of these friends on outdoor adventures (some planned, many spontaneous) that usually became some of the more precious memories of those that were game to join him.  Jack always had great stories to tell; and most of his stories were from travel or an outdoor sport of some sort.  Most of the best memories I have of the outdoor adventures with Jack are highlighted with deep guttural laughter that only the best of friends can draw out of you.  These memories are also full of awe and wonder for the beautiful creations in nature…an amazing mountain, a fresh clear river, a secret coral reef, a giant shady tree, a minute flower growing at an altitude that seems impossible. To me, these are some of the best things life has to offer:  the mind-blowing beauty of nature, the blessing that it is to get out and enjoy it, and the opportunity to share it with others we love to create happy memories together.

Now, when I look at our beloved fishing photos, I see that enormous smile on Jack’s face and to me, that “fish face” represents the best of life.  It represents being present, in the moment.  It represents pure joy and exhilaration.  It represents the awe of creation and nature.  It represents finding a way to feel happy and free, no matter your circumstances.  It represents the importance of sharing those experiences with others.  These things are what I have learned from Jack, and what he spread to others through his “Jack magic.”

These “fish face” lessons are what I had in mind when we founded the Live Like Jack Fund.  I want the Live Like Jack Fund to help others experience these things; I want to help others find their “fish face”.  Not everyone will have a fish face like Jack of course. Some may find that they have a “mountain-top face,” or a “whitewater rapid face” or a “birding face” or a “sailing face,” or any other sort that represents that pure joy brought out when one has amazing experiences outdoors. The way to find your “fish face” is bring along those you love and experience all the outdoors has to offer.

Recently, Live Like Jack Fund helped sponsor the Family and Youth Casting Call, which is a non-profit organization that teaches kids to get ‘hooked on fishing’.  Late in the afternoon at the event, on a warm summer day in June, only the most tenacious kids were still out trying to hook their first fish. I happened to pause at a place on the shoreline where two boys appeared disappointed that they hadn’t caught anything.  Their patient and dedicated volunteers stayed the course, kindly helping them untangle their lines again and again while repeating their careful instructions they had been trying at all day.

I struck up a quiet side conversation with the organizer of the event, who mentioned to me that these two brothers had just tragically lost their father.  That all-too familiar lump filled my throat immediately as I could identify with their loss. My heart hurt for them as I thought about the harsh and intense sadness that their father’s death must have brought these young boys at such a young age.  Unlike my son, these boys were old enough to fully understand their father’s death and feel the enormity of their loss.  I ached for them as I wondered about what their experience had been like, how their life would change, and the many unanswerable questions that accompany such a tragic loss.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the burst of “FISH ON!” by the squealing younger brother. The tug on his line made everyone jump into action. Finally! A bite! The volunteers rushed to help him reel it in.  “Please stay on the line,” I said to myself, as if I could will that fish to hang on. The excitement built as the little boy reeled and squealed with anticipation.  He got one! That fish came flapping out of the water and with it, a smile stretching clear from ear to ear—his little face illuminated and all teeth. He was completely joyful and present in that moment, and he had the “fish face” to prove it.  He giggled, jumped up and down, and posed for silly pictures with the fish.  He hugged his brother, who then proceeded to catch his first fish and find his fish face just a few minutes later.  They were elated!  They were in the moment!  They were in awe!  They were experiencing pure joy like only the outdoors can provide, and undoubtedly hooked on fishing.

This is what it I want to give to kids, I thought.  This is what Jack did for his friends and family.  He helped us discover our fish faces. This is a beautiful legacy for Jack.

If the Live Like Jack Fund can help children find their fish faces, we will be bringing them a type of joy that they will always remember…a type of joy that makes for great life stories…a type of joy that is pure and honest… a type of joy that they can rediscover no matter what life throws at them…a type of joy that is filled with gratitude…a type of joy that can give them self confidence and can teach them to respect themselves, respect nature, and respect others.  This is what I mean when I say I want to Live Like Jack.

By: Lauren Bauer

*please click here to donate and help others find their “fish face”