Wednesday, December 25, 2019

It's the Most Wonderful Gift of the Year

It happens every year about this time. Like presents.

Sometimes it's an average Joe or Joanne, unknown to everyone except family and friends, who strolls into a hospital, walks up to the information desk and declares they want to donate one of their kidneys.

They don't necessarily care who it goes to. They just saw a story on the news, or know somebody with renal failure, or just became overpowered with the Christmas spirit. They want to make a difference in someone's life, to enhance the quality of somebody else's time on this planet. It's called "living non-directed donation."

This year it happened in (among other places, we pray) Illinois. According to the National Kidney Foundation of Illinois website, an anonymous donor stepped forward this month whose blood and tissue types were compatible with a 16-year-old teenager named Jonathan Guitron. And shortly thereafter, the Guitrons received the gift every family struggling with kidney failure longs to receive:

The Call.

"We were definitely not expecting to get it," says his mother Nicki, referring to the call from the hospital or transplant center announcing that a matching organ has been located. "But we're beyond grateful."

So this year on Christmas Day, instead of spending the day combining their joy with undercurrents of concern and fear for Jonathan's health, the Guitron family will be at the hospital helping him get prepped for surgery. If all goes according to plan, he and his donor will undergo simultaneous surgeries the morning of Dec. 26th, proving the adage that it's more blessed to give than to receive.

The donor will give, and Jonathan will be more than delighted to receive.

I can say from personal experience that recovery from transplant surgery is slow and excruciatingly painful, and there are some medications you will take every day for the rest of your life. But when the healing is complete, life is infinitely better than anything one can imagine while on dialysis.

Now, not everyone reading this may be willing or able to rush to the nearest hospital tomorrow and scream, "Take my kidney! Please!" That's a tremendous decision. But here's something you could do:

Sometime today, after all the presents have been opened and cooed over and your closest family members are gathered 'round, take a few minutes to talk about organ donation. Let them know you wish to be a donor after you've passed so there can be no mistaking your wishes, and ask if they've thought about what their intentions are.

And check your driver's license. Many states have some sort of symbol on their licenses indicating the driver wishes to be a donor. In Illinois, where I live, it's a small red outline of the state. In other states it can be a heart, a star, or even simply the words "Organ Donor." I've found that many people are organ donors and either forgot or didn't realize they had made the commitment.

Please, make this the merriest, jolliest, happiest Christmas ever. I can bet the Guitrons will.

Merry Kidneymas.


Friday, December 20, 2019

Well, If This New Development Don't Trump All

Illustration by Global Village Space
As if you needed any more proof during this holiday season that miracles can happen: I am about to say something complimentary about our President of these United States, Donald John Trump.

I can hardly believe it either. And on his Impeachment Week, at that. Will wonders never cease?

Then again, none of us is completely good or totally evil. Hitler built the Autobahn, and I understand he threw amazing parties.

You have to give the devil his due. So I must praise Twitler and his administration for putting some muscle this week behind a cause that is extremely dear to my heart: kidneys and increasing the number of available organs for the nearly 100,000 Americans waiting for a transplant.

In July, Trump signed an executive order –– the first executive order focused on kidney health since the 1970s –– launching an initiative aimed at improving the lives of Americans suffering with kidney disease. Among other things, the initiative seeks to help prevent renal failure in the first place through improved diagnosis, treatment and preventative care.

The federal action also seeks to streamline and speed up the process of kidney matching and modernize the existing system in order to increase the number of transplants. It wants to make treatment options more affordable and ramp up the development and placement of artificial kidneys.

Wow.

Then on Dec. 17, the Trump administration announced a radical new change to the kidney donation system that could result in as many as 5,000 more available organs every year.

To help make the system more transparent, the government wants to change the way it works with organ procurement organizations (OPOs), the federally-funded nonprofits Medicare and other agencies rely on to manage the process of obtaining kidneys.

In the past, OPOs have been largely autonomous and infrequently re-certified. Partly as a result of this, as you may have heard elsewhere, almost 20 percent of kidneys currently donated in the U.S. are routinely discarded. That's one out of every five!

They may have come from older donors or persons with pre-existing health conditions, but if you're on dialysis, stuck on a transplant waitlist, and feeling weaker every day, an imperfect kidney is way better than no kidney at all.

With ongoing advancements in medicine, many of these "imperfect" kidneys could work quite well. (By contrast, France only throws out about 9 percent of kidneys donated.) The new system would rely on independent data by the CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) that would be used to evaluate the OPOs in terms of their donation rates and the percentage of donors whose organs are actually transplanted.

In addition, Trumpster wants to make it easier for living donors to help save lives by giving one of their kidneys to another. Hospital expenses for donors have long been covered completely, but new rules also would reimburse donors for lost wages and, possibly, child and eldercare as well.

For a man who cheats on his wives, denies responsibility for everything but the economy, brags about everything but his tax returns, attempts to extort foreign leaders, and travels to Michigan to suggest that its longest-serving congressman in U. S. history may now be in Hell, this is an unusually compassionate act from Le Grand Orange.

Somebody must have told him to do it.

Regardless of the reason, however, for the 3,000 people who are added to the transplant waiting list each month and the 20 people who die every day waiting for their matching organ to be found, any step forward is a quantum leap.

And of course, Don the Con can't even do a good thing without opening his mouth and cramming his bone spurs in it. In signing the executive order last summer, he was heard by everyone within earshot rhapsodizing that 'The kidney has a special place in the heart. It's an incredible thing."

This, of course, sparked an avalanche of social media wisecrackers offering Agent Orange free anatomy advice. And for all we know, he may need it.

T-Rump often seems to have trouble finding his backside with both hands.

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

This is "JK – Just Kidneying:" The Celebrity Edition

So as I was saying to Tracy Morgan not long ago….

Yes, of course I’m namedropping. Morgan, the Saturday Night Live alum, star of the TBS comedy series The Last O.G. and emcee for the 2019 ESPY Awards at 8 p.m/7c Wednesday (July 10) on ESPN, was talking to me over the same cell phone I keep in my back pocket a while back to promote a standup date he was playing in Detroit.
Tracy 'Transplant' Morgan Emcees the 2019 ESPY Awards (ESPN)

Why me, you may ask? (I would.) Well, I’ll tell you. 

It’s because in my many decades as a professional writer, television critic and movie reviewer, I’ve been called upon to conduct thousands of phone interviews with “celebrities.” In the process, I have learned how to navigate the protective layers of managers, publicists, agents and other hired buffers to get my prime target on the horn.

Plus, I have a knack for getting the best out of my subjects. At this age I’m rarely starstruck, and I always do my homework before the interview. 

I’m the ego whisperer.

Not that any of this was working with Morgan. Maybe he was having a bad day. More likely he was prickly over having to do a last-minute phone interview to help heighten interest in his Detroit gig. For whatever reason, it was clear immediately that testy Tracy did not want to be speaking with me that day. 

His answers were short, terse, almost combative. Not that this is particularly unusual where comedians are concerned, in my experience. In fact, one of the reasons I dabbled in standup comedy years ago was to hang out with other comics and try to understand the psyche: how men and women whose job it is to make others laugh until it hurts often seem to be hurting inside themselves.

And so it went, until I remembered my ace in the hole: Morgan and I received our successful kidney transplants the same year. (Like I said, I do my homework.)

I made a sharp left turn in my questioning, noting our kidney coincidence. “How are you feeling?” I blurted out. “Is your kidney still functioning well? How’s your creatinine level?”

Over the phone, I could hear him smile.

“Yeah, my creatinine is low, the kidney’s doing well, and everything is good,” Morgan replied. “We are both survivors.”

“Yes, we are, sir. Your A1c?”

“That’s good, too. And I take my Prograf at the same time every day.”

“I’m on Prograf, too! How many pills do you take?”

“One in the morning, two at night.”

“I take five, twice a day. You must be doing very well.”

“I feel good.”

After the rest of our interview — which went extremely well — concluded and I hung up the phone, it occurred to me: kidney transplant recipients have a language all their own. Who else would ask you about your creatinine level and know what it means?

(If you don’t know, here’s the glossary: creatinine is a compound created in the body and excreted when you pee. The level remaining in your body is an indicator of kidney function. An A1c test measures the amount of sugar in your blood. Prograf is one of several anti-rejection drugs, mandatory for transplant recipients.)

My takeaway: whether big-name celebrity or lowly scribe, the experience of a kidney transplant unites us. We truly are all brothers and sisters under the skin.

In this case, “O.G.” could stand for “Organ. Grateful.” 
*         *         *

The music world — heck, the entire world — is still coming to grips with the announcement by Stevie Wonder last weekend that the Motown maestro is stricken with kidney failure and has a transplant scheduled for September. 
Stevie Wonder Halted His Piano to Talk About His Organ (Getty Images)
“I’m all good, I’m all good, all good,” Wonder told his audience at a concert in London, opting to reveal the news publicly rather than have others speculate on his health. “I have a donor and it’s all good.”

One of my most cherished memories as a music critic in Detroit is spending an afternoon with Wonder and a few of his people many years ago in a penthouse suite at the Renaissance Center. It was several hours before he was scheduled to take the stage, and I remember him sitting at the keyboard of a miniature electric piano, embellishing almost everything he said with musical accompaniment.

It was songs in the key of conversation, a warm and wonderful memory of a warm and wonderful man. Unlike my experience with Aretha Franklin, I don’t believe I ever did anything to piss Stevie off. 

Having gone through what he's about to go through, if I was still sitting across from him at his keyboard and he were to ask for any advice, here’s what I would tell him:

Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing:” The vast majority of kidney transplants are successful with few complications. You have a living donor, which increases the odds of longterm survival. And I’m guessing you have a near-perfect tissue match and a top-notch medical team. You’ll be wonder-ful.

Superstition?” Nah.: If you’ve had any “Why me?” moments — and I’ll bet you have, since almost everybody does — don’t let them linger. Kidney failure is no respecter of persons. It can strike anybody, at any stage of life. And while African Americans seem to be leading the league in terms of kidney problems, primarily because of our predilection for diabetes and high blood pressure, it’s all just God’s will. Believe me, you’ll come through a better person on the other side.

I Just Called to Say I Love You (or, if you prefer, That's What Friends Are For):” Many, many people will be reaching out to you offering help and support. Let them. Both sides will be the better for it.

Major announcements like this tend to refocus national attention on kidney issues and transplantation, and that rising tide lifts all hopes. I know I join millions of music lovers worldwide in praying for a successful September transplant that goes off as scheduled, and for Wonder’s complete return to health.

Kristen Jordan Shamus, health reporter for the Detroit Free Press, penned an extremely detailed and informative article this week, interviewing Dr. Jason Denny of the Center for Living Donation at Henry Ford Health System about what Stevie has to look forward to following surgery and facts about transplantation in general. 

Monday, May 27, 2019

I Guess I'm 'Distinguished' Now. And No, I Can't Believe It Either

A Life Moment I Will Never Forget: Receiving the 2019 Distinguished Alumni Award from Hope College.
Have you ever caught yourself dying to know who you'll see in Heaven? 

(No pun intended.) 

Most folks expect their parents to be there, I suppose, unless they were abominable human beings. But imagine you've finally made it to the Promised Land, strolling around the indescribably gorgeous landscape, when suddenly you look up in disbelief.

"Whoa –YOU made it?" you exclaim. "Ohmigosh! I totally did not see that coming."

That's the exact feeling I have had since last November, when I was notified by telephone that I was one of two recipients of the 2019 Hope College Distinguished Alumni Award, until the night of April 27 when I received the award in a dinner ceremony during my alma mater's Alumni Weekend.

The Distinguished Alumni Award is the highest honor that Hope, a Christian liberal arts college in Holland, Mich., where I matriculated nearly a half-century ago, can bestow on its graduates. As a former member of the college's Alumni Association Board of Directors, which selects the recipients, I was deeply involved for several years in the discussions over who should receive this accolade.

We debated over the credentials of acclaimed theologians, life-changing scientists, barons of business. My 2019 co-recipient, Doug Van Wieren, Ph.D., is a research fellow at Harvard, founded a school of science and technology in Bosnia, and currently serves as a site engineer for Google.

Me? I can use Google.

After numerous calls and artful questions (I am a old reporter, after all), I eventually came to learn I was selected for a number of reasons: my long career as a journalist and author; my devoted support for and involvement with Hope College; and my commitment to kidney disease issues and organ donor awareness following my 2011 kidney transplant.
Hope Calls Me 'Jimmy Mack!' How Touching!

The official criteria, as set forth by the Alumni Association, includes


• Contributions to society through volunteerism
• Achievements within a profession, and
• Active involvement with the college

Well, well, well. I initially thought "distinguished" was just another word for "old," but the vast majority of old Hope grads don't have one of these, so I am deeply appreciative.

Rarely have I felt the love in any room more than I did that April evening in the college's Haworth Inn ballroom. My birth sister and brother, Jacqui and Lionel, both attended the affair with their families. (I was adopted weeks after being born.) More than a dozen members of my campus fraternity Phi Kappa Alpha, the Cosmopolitan Fraternity, came from as far away as San Diego and Maine to show their support. As Joel (Beeker) Slager, my era's frat president, wrote me, "We have to be there, Jimmy Mack. You know our fraternity. This doesn't happen to a Cosmo every day."

I had to chuckle inside while board member Scott Watson introduced me. "I've been on campus most of this week, and all I've heard about is 'Jimmy Mack,'" he said. "One person told me, 'Don't try to be funny when you introduce him. He will be funnier."

No pressure there.

May I let you in on a secret? I was scared you-know-what-less in the minutes before rising to accept the award. Terrified. 

Now, fear of public speaking is a highly unusual emotion for me, a onetime standup comedian, professional communicator and ordained wedding officiant who performs more than 25 marriages a year. But in those instances, I generally don't know the people I'm speaking to. It's a sea of faceless images, often in the dark. 

This night I knew at least three-quarters of the men and women in that ballroom personally. Together they comprised virtually the entire sweep of my life, they were very dear to me, and the lights were up full. I think I was Hoperventilating.

I don't believe my jitters were obvious. In fact, I felt kind of bad for Dr. Van Wieren, who followed me to the podium. He should have gone first. I had been practicing my acceptance speech in my head since the day I received the announcement, I'm a big ham at heart, and once I took the microphone my entertainer genes went into overdrive. 
My Cosmo Brothers Rallied From Coast to Coast. I Was Overwhelmed!

When I finished, my brother Lionel looked at me with mild astonishment. "Jimmy, I did not know you could sell it like that!" he exclaimed. 

I may have been a tough act to follow.

Because several people have asked, and because I'd like a permanent place to keep it, here's a rough transcript of my distinguished remarks, with notes for clarification in blue. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages — good evening. [I begin every speech and wedding this way. It's my mental trigger to say, "C'mon, Jimbo –– it's showtime!"]

If I may be bold enough to speak for Dr. Van Wieren for a moment, you honor both of us by your presence here this evening.

President and Mrs. Voskuil [interim Hope president Dennis Voskuil, who attended with his wife Betty and received a Meritorious Service Award at the ceremony]… members of the Alumni board… college faculty and staff… Class of ‘69 [celebrating their 50th anniversary]

Family…Friends…Cosmos. Thank you for being with us tonight.

Is this cool, or what? I always said it would be a snowy day in late April before I got an award from Hope College! [A freak spring snowstorm hit Holland that evening; you could see snow falling behind me as I spoke.]

Some of you may not have seen me in a while. This hairy affectation [referring to and touching my gray beard] is the result of being challenged by my teenage son to a No-Shave November competition last year — which I won, by the way — the same month I was notified I would be receiving this award. I saw it as an omen. So I decided to keep it at least until tonight, as my tribute, my homage…to Dutch, mascot of the Flying Dutchmen!

I was going to shave it after tonight, but now my wife, Karen, says she loves it…I don’t know what to do.

And speaking of not knowing what to do, all these months later I’m still more than a bit dumbfounded, because I really do not know why I’m up here this evening. Now Dr. Van Wieren, I completely understand. Why I’m here, I have no idea!

When I received the call last November from [Hope Executive Director of Alumni Engagement] Scott Travis, as fine a young man as it has ever been my honor to know and a true credit to this institution –– and his race –– I remember thinking to myself, 'Scott is an extremely busy man, a dedicated professional with a lot of balls in the air: how does he have the time to call and spoof me like this?'

In fact I remember saying to him, 'Hey, that’s funny, Scott, but really: what can I do for you?' 

You see, for several years I sat on the Alumni Board of Directors that selects the nominees for this highest Hope alumni recognition. We chose world renowned theologians, titans of industry, brilliant scientists. 

I have personally interviewed Kid Rock…and survived.

Look at this man, Dr. Van Wieren, my fellow honoree. He founded an entire school of technology…in Bosnia! He’s been a research fellow at Harvard! He works for Google, for heaven’s sake! Me? And how the heck do you compete with a Van Wieren…at Hope College? [The Van Wieren name is legend at Hope, perhaps led by Glenn Van Wieren, who starred in basketball as an undergrad then coached the team for 33 years.]

It took me 40 years to be hired to write for News From Hope College [the college alumni magazine]. I’ve written for the alumni publications of many colleges and universities I never attended! 

I finally asked, 'Why have you never asked me to write for my own alumni magazine?' They said, 'We thought you were too busy or out of our price range.' Really? Really? Have you never heard of the Dutch discount?

So while I have no idea what you were thinking, my deepest, sincerest thanks to the Alumni Board for this accolade. It should go without saying that it stuns and humbles me more than you can imagine. This I can tell you for sure: I’m not giving It back!

I can think of only one other moment in my life that rivals this one. I was the first — and as far as I know, still the only — graduate from my high school, Spring Lake High in West Michigan (Go Lakers!) to be invited back to deliver the commencement address. 

I hired a limousine — which in Spring Lake, Mich., 30 years ago was no easy task — so I could escort my mother and father [Caribell and Hildry "Mac" McFarlin] to the front door of the school. The high school reserved two seats for them, in the front row right in front of the podium, so I could tell them, in front of an auditorium full of people, how much they meant to me and to thank them for all they had done for me. 

Neither of them made it past the eighth grade, so education was of paramount importance to them. I was going to college! To my knowledge I am the first member of the McFarlin family to attend college. And while they cannot be here in person tonight, I know they are in this room in spirit. Thank you Mom and Dad. I hope you’re proud of me. 

You know, one of the myriad benefits of being a Christian is the heightened perspective you obtain for hindsight. You can look back and say, 'OH, if this hadn’t happened, then that wouldn’t have occurred, and I wouldn’t be here today.' You see the hand of God guiding your journey. 

I had been accepted at Arizona State University, and after growing up engulfed by lake effect snow every winter of my life, four years in Tempe sounded pretty sweet. Although I grew up less than 30 miles from campus, I had never heard of Hope College.

That is, until I received a cold call from a Hope recruiter one afternoon while I was attempting to watch an NFL playoff game on TV. I really wanted to see the game –– the Los Angeles Rams had to play the Minnesota Vikings on the road every December, and I enjoyed watching Roman Gabriel shiver on the frozen sidelines –– but the recruiter just would not shut up

I finally relented. 'All right, I'll come! Talk to my guidance counselor! Set it up and I will visit your campus! Just let me watch the Rams lose!'

I visited Hope the first time on what had to be the heaviest blizzard of that winter. I literally could not see my hand in front of my face! My Hope tour guide would say, 'And over there is our Pine Grove,' and I would reply, 'Yes, that's very nice.' I never actually saw the campus!

I finally was introduced to a professor in the theater department, where I thought I would major. [I eventually became a Communications major, theater minor.] That was the era when the theater department was on the fifth floor of the science building. You had to climb up five flights to see a play. If you weren't knocked over by the scent of formaldehyde from the third floor lab, you could make it to your seats!

I'll never forget, the professor led me to a table with something covered by a large white cloth. 'If you come to Hope,' he said, 'you can be part of this!' He snatched off the sheet to reveal a 3-D model of the still-under-construction DeWitt Cultural Center! He showed me where the theater spaces and rehearsal rooms would be, and declared, 'YOU can be among the first students to build the foundation  of our theater department in this glistening new edifice!' 

That should give you a solid idea of how old I am!

Ultimately I came to Hope because of that new theater building, and because I wanted to be closer to my aging parents. It was the best decision of my life.
The Woman I Literally Would Not Be Here Without: Bewee.

Well, maybe the second best. 

Anyone who saw this year’s Oscar-nominated movie The Wife with Glenn Close understands my next dilemma. My wife, Karen — or as much of America knows her, Bewee, shorthand for 'Best Wife Ever' — admonished me some time ago, 'Do NOT acknowledge me or lavish me with praise in your remarks!' 

'But if I don’t mention you at all, I will seem like an arrogant, ungrateful jerk,' I protested. She said, 'That’s OK, Honey. They know you.'

Dr. Walker Parmelee, my best friend and running buddy since kindergarten, is here tonight with his beautiful wife, Gayle. Happy belated birthday, Walk. Forgot to send your card again. Sorry!

My birth sister and brother, Jacqui and Lonnie, are here tonight. Although we did not grow up together, our bond has grown closer with the passage of time and I am so thankful for that. 

My brother needs a new heart. It appears that body parts in our bloodline wear out before their time. While he has my heart in the emotional sense, an organ transplant is needed, the sooner the better. So, if you know anybody who knows somebody.…
A VERY rare photo: Me With My Siblings, Jacqui and Lionel.

My initial plan had been to invite one or two of my Cosmo brothers who live nearby to represent the whole, so I could thank them here for accepting me unconditionally, without reservation, so many years ago. But anyone who knows the 'Mos knows they can’t keep a secret! Lured by the possibility of a free meal, they have come from coast to coast to be with us tonight. 

Rick Hine, my freshman Pull coach and a dear friend to this day, flew in from San Diego just to be here. You’ll always be Hiney to me, Rick. I think it was Joel Slager, who came tonight from Maine, who RSVPd, 'We have to be there, Jimmy Mack. You know our fraternity. This doesn't happen to a Cosmo every day.' 

My brother Gene Haulenbeek, who has been an extremely talented sketch artist since our college days –– and who remains available for parties and corporate functions –– surprised me tonight with this sketch, signed by many of the people here. The award, I expected. This I had no idea about! This means almost as much to me as the award itself. Thank you so much, Geno.
Geno's Memorial Poster. Is this cool, or what?

My college roommate, Sel Harlow, is here. The great Paul Boddy. Ron, Gary, Marty, Ken, Max, Juan. I’m going to forget someone, but If I do, you weren’t that important to me. But seriously, to all of you: my eternal thanks.

You see, this campus was a very different place in the 1970s. 'Diversity' was a word found primarily in the dictionary. Yet as a fraternity pledge — a very controversial decision back in the day among Hope’s small African American population — the Cosmos treated me just as poorly and miserably as every other recruit. And in this day where Greek life has come under so much scrutiny and derision, I think it’s important to at least note the positive side of fraternities and sororities; these gentlemen will be my brothers for life, and I am so grateful for the role they played in helping me mature from boy to man. 

And now, Marqueeta Abbott, a freshman at Hope whom I met tonight, is already working on a nonprofit to benefit the adult children of adoption. Stand up, Ms. Abbott!

As our incoming 14th president, Matt Scogin, said in his introductory video, which I hope you take the time to watch if you haven't already—with his resumé, he should be a distinguished alumnus ––and I quote, 'What Hope offers is an aspiration. As one professor said to me recently, 'We need to make sure that our name is not only a noun, but a verb.' Every other college or university I can think of is named after a person or a geography. Hope is named after an ideal.' 

And that ideal remains strong, vibrant, and endures across generations.

I received an enthusiastic email of congratulations from Jack Ridl, my freshman English professor and one the great influences of my life and my career. 

I received a handwritten card of congratulations in the mail — the mail! Who does that anymore? — from the amazing Tom Renner, who chronicled life on this campus for generations. 

And whenever I would visit campus and run into him, the late, lovable Norm Japinga, ol’ Bunko, would exclaim “Jimmy McFarlin!” and greet me warmly. I still remember sharing the baseball press box with him many years ago and enjoying a sun-splashed chucklefest. 

To this day, whenever I stroll the campus at Hope, invariably I will hear somebody shout out, 'Hey, Jimmy Mack!' I haven’t been a student here for 45 years! Where else in America does that kind of thing happen? Arizona State? I don’t think so! 

If you think it takes place on every university or college campus, you would be what we like to call, 'wrong.' That’s Hope. 

So I choose to view this award not as a validation, but as motivation; not an achievement, but an aspiration. I pray that I have many years, or at least a few months left, to prove myself worthy, or worthier, of this incredible honor. I want to continue to make Hope College proud of me.

Because you see, there are tens of thousands of people around the globe, many sitting right in this room tonight, who are distinguished alumni in their own right, who love Hope College as much as I do. But this much I can guarantee you: you will never find anybody who loves it more. 

Thank you again for this incredible honor, and enjoy the rest of your evening."

Thank you, too, for the standing ovation. A night I will never, ever forget.