Note from Kevin Carroll

I had been in many elementary schools, middle school and high schools prior to my visit to Errol Hassel Elementary School in Aloha, Oregon, but I had no idea that an unassuming little girl was about to set in motion a series of events, meetings and an eight year (and counting) friendship.

In Mrs. Hess’ fourth grade classroom, students were already assembled: some in desks, some on the floor at my feet and others in the windowsills. Shelby, the girl about to change my life, was quietly seated in the windowsill.

I told my story of battling my circumstances and overcoming neglect as a youngster. I told them how many adults at that time had written me off, assuming I was a child without hope. I told them that it was in a school much like the one we were in where I discovered a love for sports and reading and how both allowed me to imagine a different life for myself. I told them how a red rubber ball became my fuel to propel me to the kind of success that was unimaginable when I was their age. I conducted my own version of show-and-tell and shared items that were significant to me – a red rubber ball, a book (Where the Wild Things Are), a ball made of banana skins from Uganda, a bungee cord to illustrate life’s “struggles and tension” and … a bottle of MAGIC.

Though I was completely unaware of it, the moment I presented that bottle of MAGIC to the class, that relatively disinterested and emotionally detached little girl on the periphery of the room was suddenly upright and had fixed her gaze on the bottle. In that moment of “ohhhs” and “ahhhs” and squeals of glee, Shelby saw an opportunity.

Unlike her classmates who were satisfied to revel in the excitement of seeing a handcrafted cobalt blue bottle with the acid-etched words “MAGIC” uncork the possibilities of something mysterious and unexplainable inside the bottle was what interested her. She was desperate to shift the course of things at home with her brother.

At nine years old, she couldn’t articulate the emotions she felt since her older brother John was stricken with cancer. She really hadn’t understood all that was going on with her brother at first because he didn’t seem sick at all. He was a fantastic and highly decorated swimmer attending his freshmen year of college at Brigham Young University. He came home after preseason workouts and spoke to his parents about his knee constantly giving him trouble during the workouts and his endurance in the pool not being what it should be considering all of the training he had done over the summer.

Turned out that diminished aerobic capacity wasn’t due to his lack of conditioning or the increased intensity of the workouts at the collegiate level – it was more than 100 tumors in his lungs and a massive tumor in his leg. The diagnosis was osteosarcoma, cancer of the bone, and it had spread into his lungs. He was going to need chemotherapy treatments and was scheduled for other tests. Shelby wasn’t clear about all of it, but she knew that her hero – her charming, witty, warm, brash big brother – was in trouble.

Shelby had moved from the windowsill and positioned herself closer to my seat in the front of the room. She watched intently as her classmates received a dose of MAGIC. I poured it over their heads, in their pockets, on their books, and in their book bags. They squealed and cheered. They laughed and smiled. Then came Shelby. Shelby stood next to me with an innocent and sheepish look hoping that the contents in the bottle weren’t all gone. I asked her politely if she would like a bit of MAGIC and she nodded yes. I doused her with a good bit of MAGIC.

“Do you think you could pour some MAGIC on my brother’s picture?” she asked. I didn’t hesitate and began to pour the imaginary potion over her picture of John that she had pulled from her pocket.

“You see, my brother has cancer and he could use some MAGIC.” She said it so matter-of-factly that I was blind-sided. “Thanks!” she said as I finished pouring. “You know, I really think you should meet my brother. I think you two could be great friends.”

I responded by saying, “Sure, that would be nice. You never know, it may happen one day.”

“Oh, it will happen, Kevin. Because you gave me MAGIC!” She beamed with delight because she’s finally received the one thing that all the doctors, specialists, surgeons and clinicians couldn’t provide her hero – hope.

When I received the package of thank you notes from Mrs. Hess’ class, little did I know that Shelby had set in motion plans to bring her hero and me together.

I read Mrs. Hess’ note first since it was on top of the stack –

Dear Mr. Carroll,
Your presentation was super. We are most appreciative of your talents & willingness to share them. It’s great to see my kids light up with a giant “Ah HA”! as they learn new ideas. I think you gave them many “Ah Ha’s” & maybe some of really will be starfish!
Your suggestion that doubt is the enemy of personal MAGIC is very thought provoking. My Shelby needed the extra MAGIC, thanks.
My kids are all asking to write to you hoping you’ll write BACK! We know you’re busy but a short note would be most appreciated!
Joi Hess

All of the letters from the students were wonderful and heartfelt. Of all the letters I received, it was Shelby’s that I found the most intriguing. Shelby only wrote about her brother’s illness. She wrote that John had a surgery scheduled on his leg in May and that she would really like for her brother to meet me. She signed her letter, “The MAGIC Girl,” Shelby Brennan.

That letter was so simple and yet so inspiring to me. I was moved by how she wanted me to find the time to write back and to one day even meet her brother. I felt compelled to do something for her.

I took Shelby’s letter and shared it with some of the people at Nike, where I worked at the time, who were supporting Lance Armstrong’s recovery from cancer. He had won his first Tour de France the year before and he was basking in that success and his triumphant battle against cancer. I thought that it would be great if I could get some piece of memorabilia from Lance to share with Shelby’s brother. I received two wonderful gifts – an autographed poster and a yellow Tour de France jersey.

I wrote to Mrs. Hess to ask to come in and personally thank the students for the letters and check in on them. She agreed. At my visit, I told the class that one of the letters from the students was particularly special and I wanted to present that student with a gift. I asked Shelby to come to the front of the room and I presented her with the gifts from Lance. She smiled a sheepish smile and whispered to me, “These are great and will come in handy to lift my brother’s spirits.” She paused oh so hauntingly and then said, “They just had to take my brother’s leg from him to save his life yesterday. You have to meet my brother because I know you two will be good friends.” she said.

It was at this point I knew that this little girl was going to orchestrate this meeting no matter what. “Let’s make certain it happens soon.” I said. She smiled a grin of “magical” satisfaction.

Soon I received an email from her mother.

After reading the email from Lisa, I felt so compelled to meet her son that I called their home that weekend. Shelby answered the phone and after I said my name, I could practically see the smile on her face through the telephone. I spoke with her for a bit and told her that her invitation to meet her brother needed to happen. She put her mother on the phone and before she released the telephone, I overheard her whisper, “It’s Kevin Carroll and he wants to meet John. Isn’t that cool?!”

We arranged to connect on a Saturday. I planned on showing the Brennan family around the Nike campus with all of its amazing buildings and “odes to sport.” It was a gorgeous Northwest summer afternoon, in the 80s with lots of sunshine. It was fitting that we would get such a radiant day to connect. As I waited for their arrival, I began to get a little anxious about the meeting. I had no idea what to expect. What did we hope to accomplish, I asked myself. I wondered how John might look and if he would be devoid of energy and enthusiasm from the chemo treatments. What about the amputated leg? Did John really even want to come out here and meet with a complete stranger that his little sis had met at her school?

As Shelby and the rest of her family walked toward me, I could immediately see how much they loved John and wanted to protect him. I noticed that they had created a human cluster around him, each of them moving in an unconscious entrainment like troops marching into battle. Because of the human family shield, I could only catch a glimpse of him every few steps. With my first glimpse, I saw a young man barely out of high school who was missing his right leg. The second glimpse revealed that his muscle tone was depleted, but there was no mistaking the broad shoulders of a swimmer. A third glance allowed me to see that his youthful locks of hair were gone. But as John came closer, those weren’t the things that truly caught my attention – I saw wraparound sunglasses on his face and that unmistakable swagger of an athlete.

Even though he was on crutches he moved in the way a self-assured athlete steps into any arena of competition knowing he or she is a force to be reckoned with. John possessed that quiet confidence that screams without a sound. I admired the spirit and mindset emanating from him. He approached me smiling and held out his hand and said, “You must be Kevin!”

As I extended my hand to greet him, I caught a glimpse of Shelby’s bright smile – it was MAGICAL!

Watch John Brennan in action.