Faces of Long Island celebrates the uniqueness of everyday Long Islanders. In their own words, they tell us about their life experiences, challenges and triumphs. Newsday launched this social media journey into the human experience to shine a light on the diverse people of this wonderful place we call home.

‘I’ve learned that I can act as if I can do anything in the very moment — and then do it.’

Huntington Station

“Growing up, I found it very difficult to relate to other children. I suffered from extreme separation anxiety. I also struggled with a speech impediment and a processing delay. I was always ashamed about that.

“Music was a calling for me. It was an itch that needed to be scratched! I was singing ‘Smoke on the Water’ before I could talk. Growing up in the ’90s and 2000s, the dream was to be a Spice Girl while singing Backstreet Boys tunes. Music was always with me because my parents are artists.

“I would listen to my dad’s cassette tapes in the car. Art gave me a voice. My life changed when I started playing the cello at age 10. It was love at first sight. It was the last day of school, and we had to watch the fifth- graders show off their instruments. I ran outside to tell my mother and we told the music teacher.

“Two days later, I was in the Northport summer music program. That instrument gave me an identity and helped me connect with other children.

You have to keep trying until you believe in yourself.

“I got a music scholarship to study at Five Towns College. When I graduated, I didn’t know what to do as a musician, so I unhappily worked for a law firm for seven years.

“Finally, I realized I had to follow my passion. I began teaching privately and playing open mics. I performed songs and posted videos on Facebook. Then I wondered what would happen if I did it professionally.

“Now I play guitar and sing from Northport to places in the New York metro area while going to grad school at Aaron Copland School of Music, where I’m studying to become a music teacher. I also teach cello. I had to embrace my processing delay.

“As a teacher, someone said to me, ‘It’s your superpower.’ It helps me relate better to myself and to children. I try to understand how I can be more understanding and compassionate.

“The hardest thing about my career was walking through that dark tunnel to get to that bright light. I’ve learned that I can act as if I can do anything in the very moment — and then do it.

“I set too many rules for myself. You have to keep trying until you believe in yourself. I’m not perfect, but I’m good enough and I can do this. I teach my students that if they literally pretend in that moment, it actually comes true.”

Interviewed by Iris Wiener

‘For people that are forced into homelessness, it’s not one size fits all.’

Rocky Point

“I was working in higher education in career counseling when in 2010, I had a longing to return to the nonprofit community. I got my master’s in human services leadership, and soon after, I found Maureen’s Haven, which was looking for an executive director to oversee their shelter program and delivery of compassionate services to Long Island’s East End homeless. I immediately knew this was a place I could make a difference and have been here since 2018.

“We’re a hands-on organization interacting with our guests; that’s what we call them. In the winter, that could be 24 hours a day for a full six months, so you really get to know people. The impact you have is often very immediate. A lot of people come here because they’re in crisis. You’re able to make a life-saving decision to ensure they’re safe, have a place to sleep and are getting medical attention and other services. We spend a lot of time forging relationships. They need the same help, support and level of compassion, caring and interaction as everyone. I don’t think people understand that homelessness on the East End is a problem. Because of the pandemic, there are people forced out of their secure housing who now have nowhere to live.

Our mission is to provide compassionate care, and me and my staff, we firmly believe in that.

“A third of my population is over the age of 55. We have undocumented individuals and many people that have been through the system their entire lives. For many of the folks that use Maureen’s Haven, there truly is no other option. I had many sleepless nights throughout the pandemic, but I love it. I would not trade it for the world. It’s been an amazing experience, the people that I’’ve interacted with and the lives I’ve changed.

“Our mission is to provide compassionate care, and me and my staff, we firmly believe in that. For people that are forced into homelessness, it’s not one size fits all. It comes in so many different dynamics. Instead of looking at somebody and saying, maybe this person is a burden on society or maybe not doing their fair share, maybe find a way to better understand them and educate yourself on ways of helping and motivating people and helping them lift themselves out of homelessness. Having the opportunity to work here has made me a much better person.”

Interviewed by Liza Burby

‘For me, setting that goal and starting along the journey to the finish line was such a turning point because up until then, I, like many women, had the unhealthiest inner dialogue that you can imagine.’

East Hampton

“I-tri comes from my own experience. Even though I loved to swim and ride my bike as a kid, I never thought of those as athletic endeavors. They were just things I liked to do for fun. It wasn’t until I was 37 when we were in Block Island and I saw a group of people running down the beach, completing the Block Island Triathlon, that I was inspired.

“I told a few of my friends — we all had young kids at the time — that you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I just signed up for this race next August. A few of them said, ‘Let’s do this together.’ So, we looked up how to train for a triathlon and signed up to swim at the Y. I did one lap and thought I was going to die! But as the weeks progressed, I found myself getting stronger.

“For me, setting that goal and starting along the journey to the finish line was such a turning point because up until then, I, like many women, had the unhealthiest inner dialogue that you can imagine. I was my own worst critic. I often tell the girls today I’d never let anyone talk to me the way I talked to myself.

“While I was transforming my body, I was also transforming my mind and my soul and my spirit. I was working to change my inner dialogue and learning how Olympic athletes use visualization to achieve big goals like this. It was the first time in my entire life that I was actually kind to myself. When race day came, it was unbelievable. But as great as that moment was at the finish line, what I realized was that it was really the journey to get there that was so transformative.

“I became the Pied Piper of triathlons. The next year, I brought 20 people to do that race, and over the next five years, went on to do every race on the East End of Long Island.

“In 2010, my daughter, who was about 6 when I started, was getting ready to go to middle school. I had this sense that if I could have learned all of this at her age instead of waiting until I was in my thirties, it would’ve made a huge difference. That’s where the idea for I-tri came from, to take a group of girls in that most vulnerable middle school age and give them all the tools, training, love and support to achieve a really big goal.”

“I went to my daughter’s school, Springs School in East Hampton, and pitched the idea, and they gave me the green light. That first year we worked with 10 girls in sixth, seventh and eighth grade. I wrote the curriculum that we still use today, training the body, mind and spirit.

“Thirteen years later, we now offer the program to girls at 13 schools from Montauk to Mastic and have had over 1,100 girls cross the finish line! Each week,we do after-school empowerment sessions that include lessons on self-love, visualization and affirmations, followed by a fitness session like yoga and Zumba to make fitness fun.

“On Saturdays, they train to swim and run at training facilities in East Hampton and Riverhead. In the spring, we all come together to do biking in preparation for the race. Then we move to on-course sessions in Sag Harbor.

“To level the playing field and make sure that this program is accessible to girls who can benefit, we provide transportation and all the training, equipment and uniforms at no cost to families. It’s just a magical journey that these kids go on.

“Many come to us not knowing how to swim or ride a bike and in a short amount of time successfully complete our Hamptons Youth Triathlon. It’s open to all kids 10 to 17 and held on the third Saturday of July. It consists of a 300-yard open-water swim, a six-mile bike ride and a 1.5- mile run. Many of our alums come back to coach and become lifeguards and swim instructors.

“We’re not just training them for a triathlon. We’re working on social-emotional learning and mental health. We have an integrated Science of Triathlon curriculum. What better way to explain what an incline plane is than to be riding uphill on a bike? Many of our girls go on to play sports for their schools. Some would’ve done that anyway, but so many of them wouldn’t have had the confidence to try out for a team.

“What I said about my experience on the other side of the triathlon is true for each one of those girls.: They cross that finish line feeling like there is nothing I cannot do. If I can do this, I can do anything! They’ve been taught and have learned that they matter, that their thoughts, their actions and their voices matter.”

Interviewed by Liza Burby

‘They called my parents and said, your daughter’s dying, and you have to come say goodbye now.’

Hicksville

“My journey with transplantation began when I was 13 years old. I made the first girls lacrosse team in Hicksville, and I was a competitive baton twirler, but I started to have these really severe stomach pains. I was going to different doctors, and nobody could find anything physically wrong with me.

“One day I went to the ER, and they told my parents the worst-case scenario was that my ovaries were twisted, which was very hard to hear as a woman because they said later on in life, I couldn’t have children. They said they wanted to do something called exploratory surgery in my abdominal region because I presented with stomach pains. When I went in to do the surgery, I went into cardiac arrest on the table, and they found out that my heart was so enlarged that I was in heart failure. They had actually sent my parents home, but they called them and said, your daughter’s dying, and you have to come say goodbye now.

“They brought my younger brother, my uncle and a family friend who was a priest, who gave me my last rites. There was one doctor there, thank goodness, who said, ‘If I could stabilize her enough, we’re going take her to a hospital from Long Island to Columbia Presbyterian in the city. She’s going to need a heart transplant.’ Everything happened so fast. I woke up to all these different doctors. They stuck something called a Broviac tube in my chest, which is a permanent IV, because I needed medication 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I ended up contracting something called cardiomyopathy, which in the transplant world is a very common thing. You get a virus, and it destroys your heart, and they can’t really pinpoint exactly where it comes from.

“Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, while I waited for a transplant in the hospital. On July 6, 1996, my life was saved by my donor angel, Matthew. About two days prior, they had added different medications, and they told my family to get ready to say goodbye again because I was so sick. The holiday time is sadly a very big time for organ donation because bad things happen. Through tragedy, though, comes life. This 13-year-old boy saved my life because his mother made that decision to donate his organs.”

I got to meet my donor’s mom, and the first thing she did was place her head against my chest and say, “That’s my boy.”

“After the transplant, things went back to semi-normal. I had my transplant July 6, and then by September I was back in eighth grade. I went back to being a competitive baton twirler, but it’s a very fine line. You live in healthy/sick world because you could be really good one day and then the next day you’re not. Still to this day, I don’t have hair because it was one of my side effects. I would have a rejection episode, and I’d be hospitalized a little bit, and then you go back to normal.

“I graduated high school in 2001. I ended up going to Nassau Community College and then Molloy College, where I got my bachelor’s in social work. I’ve been a part of various organizations since I was young. Long Island TRIO, Hearts for Russ, and the United Network of Organ Sharing, as well as the New York Blood Center, because I receive blood transfusions still to this day. I got trained as a women’s heart ambassador at the Mayo Clinic. I just won a Bounce Back Give Back Award with the Chris Klug Foundation Woman of Distinction Award.

“In 2015 on Feb. 14, which is National Donor Day, I got to meet my donor’s mom, and the first thing she did was place her head against my chest and say, ‘That’s my boy.’ And that truly is the power of organ donation. She didn’t even ask me, ‘Did I go to school; did I do anything?’ She just said, ‘How am I feeling? Am I having fun in life?’ She just wanted to see if I was OK. And things change. I had a plan at 13: I wanted to get married, have kids, do all these things. They told my parents after my transplant that I might not make it to my 18th birthday, my 25th birthday, my 30th, but next year I’ll be 40. So that’s an accomplishment to me in itself. I always tell people, if you would say yes to receiving a transplant and you’re not a registered organ donor, then maybe you should think about becoming one. Because if you’re willing to receive, you should be willing to give yourself.”

Interviewed by Hannah Fusaro

‘I want to help the community, and I don’t give up on people.’

Deer Park

“I grew up in Brooklyn’s Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhood when it was mostly Italian, Irish and Jewish. I was usually the only Black child in school. The neighborhood was beautiful when I was little, but it descended into poverty in the late 1960s. That degeneration was disappointing, but it instilled within me the urge to see a Black community cleaned up and for the people within it to have a better life. I first visited Long Island in 1966 because my sister had a house in Brentwood.

“In 1977, after I got married, I also moved to Brentwood. I have always had the inclination to help people in need. From 1977 to 1982, I worked with the Central Islip Psychiatric Center’s various outreach programs. I helped patients who were struggling after being discharged. Some had even become homeless. I remember a time when a female psychiatric patient was thanking me for helping her. I can get uncomfortable when people are complimenting me, and so I interrupted her. She asked me to let her say what she needed to say, explaining that her words were her only way of expressing her gratitude. I learned a lot from that experience. I want to help the community, and I don’t give up on people.

“Over the years, I have been inspired by my experiences enough to author inspirational books. I have learned that once we see other people as human beings, they become three-dimensional rather than one-dimensional. As for the world as it is today, I would like to see more outreach between the African American community and police officers. These individuals need to get to know each other more as human beings, not as stereotypes. Assumptions go out the window when you have the opportunity to get to know a person, and very few people are irredeemable. This is something that I learned while working for a prison as a chaplain during the heyday of the crack cocaine epidemic.”

‘David was eventually released from prison and came home to become a model citizen. He accomplished great things for Wyandanch.’

“I was born into Christianity, but I converted to Islam in 1975. From 1982 to 1992, I served on weekends with Suffolk County Sheriff’s Office as a prison chaplain. One of my most memorable success stories from my time working as a prison chaplain was meeting an inmate named David Bullard. I first encountered him when I was appointed a state mental health chaplain to service the prison on the Pilgrim State Hospital grounds in 1986. I never asked David many questions about his criminal history, but he told me that, before he became a Muslim, he spent many years of his youth in prison for various crimes. David was eventually released from prison and came home to become a model citizen. He accomplished great things for Wyandanch.

“In 1982, I established a mosque in Wyandanch and confronted drug dealers loitering on the street corners. 1988 was a busy year for me because I became the president of the school board in Wyandanch, as well as a deputy commissioner for the Town of Babylon. I used my positions to help secure a new senior center, renovate public pools and funding to build a new library. Still, crime was an ongoing problem. In 1989, I saw an article about our years-long issues dealing with criminal elements in the neighborhood, and a photo of David posting one of our warning flyers to drug dealers onto a pole ran with the story!

“David eventually became an assistant director of the Wyandanch Youth Program. He developed a Little League program and ballfield, improved their midget football program, and with his wife, Patty, he got approval to build the Wyandanch Youth Center. The football field adjacent to Wyandanch Park is called David Bullard Field. Sadly, David died in August 1997. I washed his body and performed his funeral service.”

Interviewed by Meagan Meehan

‘When my brother passed, I just kept making art to cope.’

Melville

“My oldest brother, Marc, was 41. He was a surfer. He’d surf all the time, through the winter and the storms. He was really healthy. He was surfing one day. Two days, later, he thought he had a cold. It was right at the beginning of COVID. He went to a walk-in, and it turned out to be stage four cancer. It was really aggressive. Within a week, he was paralyzed and then hospitalized. Less than two months later, he passed.

“My husband was working as a Critical Care RN at that time, treating COVID patients. It was wild. I think my brain went into survival mode and I just started drawing. I would FaceTime Marc when he was in the hospital, we listened to music and I drew a portrait of my husband in full PPE. That portrait led me back to creating art, really as a coping skill. I didn’t realize it would become something so great from there to now.

“When my brother passed, I just kept making art to cope. We were at the beach a lot. We were doing paddle-outs and memorials. I’ve always been a beach girl. I’ve never walked past a good shell. I was making memory jars for everyone with sand and shells.

“A few months later, it was my friend’s birthday, and I got her a necklace. I was opening the package, and it landed in a shell on my counter. I thought, ‘Oh, wow, I can make her a dish to put her necklace in.’

“After that, someone asked if they could order one as a gift. So I painted the shell and was able to create this process that I’ve perfected over the years.

“I go where my brother surfed in Long Beach and Rockaway and Tobay/Gilgo and I get the shells. I feel really connected to him at the beach. He has 100 percent sent me these shells. I’m not a big sign person, but you can’t deny it. How am I a full-time shell painter? I don’t buy shells; I only get them here on Long Island. My brother did all of this for me.

“About two years ago, I got worried that I would run out of shells because it’s completely out of my control. Sometimes I’ll go, and there will be so many shells the size of my head. I have to leave bags on my path and walk back and grab them. I’ve brought backpacks and wagons. Other times, I just find garbage and clean the beach.”

Interviewed by Tracey Cheek

‘I grew up with my father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather telling stories about the bay.’

Mastic Beach

“I’d already been playing basketball in Europe for 10 years before the WNBA started, but there were whisperings about something happening in America.

“My teammates who were overseas with me were all a very tight group: Teresa Weatherspoon, Cynthia Cooper, Jennifer Gillum, Cindy Brown. We all came back to America together and were so excited to play in the WNBA.

“Playing for the New York Liberty was a huge success. We were so lucky to be in that spot, and we were determined that the league was going to last. We spoke with fans after games and realized how important this movement was to so many women. It was a magical time.

“I knew that every season could be the last one. I played until I was 36 years old, and basketball was the only thing I’ve ever known. I coached and had a startup business. I was dedicated, but I wasn’t passionately engaged.

Who knew I would end up liking my little oyster farm?

“I discovered my passion to work on the water. I feel fully engaged in oyster farming. That’s where my soul fits. Most of my friends are still involved in sports in some way, but I think what we all still have in common is that we’re pursuing something that makes us feel alive.

“Who knew I would end up liking my little oyster farm? Aquaculture, which is the breeding and harvesting of fish and shellfish, is reinventing the bay’s ecosystem. My hope is it makes the bay so healthy that we have a resurgence of baymen, that we have abundance again in the water.

“Most people that are in aquaculture are interested in restoration. We have a Mastic Beach Conservancy here, and our hope is to have parkland, eelgrass plantings, oyster restoration sites and citizen scientists.

“I’m optimistic. I believe in humans. Obviously, they can do super destructive things, but we’re so smart collectively that I think we can figure out any problem. And above and beyond, Mother Nature is a genius. She will fix herself if we don’t figure it out.

“I grew up with my father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather telling stories about the bay. Their love was demonstrated by, ‘Let me tell you a story about this.’ I think by telling me those little intimate stories, they were saying, ‘This is yours and it’s what I loved. I hope you love it, too.’”

Interviewed by Maggie Melito

‘My greatest wish is to live in a world where I can say, “I used to have MS.”’

Plainview

“I go by many titles – I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister and a friend. I have had multiple sclerosis for 22 years. I am proud to be the team captain of Team RoRoRo, the top Long Island Walk MS team.

“In 2001, I was a newlywed just starting my life with the love of my life, David. We were looking to buy our first home and the future was so bright. While trying to have a baby, I got terribly sick. I was experiencing strange symptoms and double vision in my eyes. I went to many doctors to figure out this mystery. I saw a neuro-ophthalmologist and I was told, ‘This isn’t about your eyes; this is behind your eyes. It is your brain that’s malfunctioning.’

“The doctor admitted me to the hospital and ran more tests. They couldn’t explain what was wrong with me. They started me on powerful IV steroids. They also told me that I was pregnant. Here I was lying in a bed on the maternity floor as both sets of our parents arrived to see me. I needed to tell them that I may have a tumor in my brain, but that I was also pregnant. It was bittersweet and frightening.

“They did a spinal tap and an MRI of my brain and saw no tumor. The steroids began to restore my vision, and they released me from the hospital. The doctors told me, ‘Go have your baby. We hope we don’t see you again until you give birth.’

“About seven months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy named Jason. About three months after that, the unusual symptoms happened again, this time harder. After many more tests, the diagnosis was confirmed. I had multiple sclerosis. This time they had found the lesions that were hiding so perfectly. I had a disease for which there was no cure. I was devastated.

“Would I lead a normal life? Could I have more children? Within days of my diagnosis, I called the Long Island chapter of the Multiple Sclerosis Society and learned about the various resources, meetings and support that I could take advantage of.

“I went to a meeting called ‘But You Look So Good.’ It made perfect sense. To the world, I looked fine. But I was hurting physically, emotionally and mentally. I attended several meetings and began to wonder how I could give back to the society and pay it forward.”

Twenty-two years later, we have raised over $650,000 for the MS Society.

“Within days, Walk MS Team RoRoRo was created by me and my husband at my dining room table. We sent out fundraising letters to our friends and family. We were hoping to raise $1,000 towards a cure for MS.

“That first year, I think we raised about $1,800, and we felt like rock stars. As my son grew, he sat alongside us at the dining room table and helped us stuff letters. Three years later, my daughter, Emily, joined the team.

“Twenty-two years later, we have raised over $650,000 for the MS Society. Our team attends the MS Walk at Jones Beach boardwalk in May, rain or shine. We are surrounded by family and friends and are by far the largest team, and we remain the number one fundraising team year after year.

“Each year after the walk, we invite everyone back to our house for a huge celebration, with all proceeds going to the MS Society. I know our efforts have contributed to walkers, wheelchairs, homecare services, costly medication and most importantly, research and development, to find a cure.

“Over the years, I’ve also mentored many newly diagnosed people who have received this difficult diagnosis. I share my story with them and show them MS has not defined me.

“Several years ago, we started a yearly scholarship, the Birns Family Scholarship, at Plainview-Old Bethpage John F. Kennedy High School to give a college scholarship to a senior who has made a difference in the lives of others who battle a chronic illness.

“I still live with the hope for a cure of MS in my lifetime. My greatest wish is to live in a world where I can say, ‘I used to have MS.’ Staying positive makes all the difference. I have good days and some not-so-good days, but I push forward.

“MS did not stop me. It has made me more determined to live the best life possible. I embrace each and every day and take nothing for granted. I am raising two healthy, amazing children.

“I have my amazing husband, David, who has stuck by my side in sickness and in health. He’s been my true love, my best friend, my champion and my rock. Our team motto for the past 22 years has been ‘As long as it takes,’ and that’s exactly how long I intend to keep on fighting.”

Interviewed by Rachel O’Brien – Morano

‘When we do find evidence of the paranormal, people also tend to feel a sense of relief. People think, “Well, at least now I know I’m not crazy.”’

Ronkonkoma

“A lot of times when we do paranormal house investigations, you have a family who’s really scared, and they have nobody to turn to. If you suspect paranormal activity, you can’t call the cops or the fire department, you know? They contact us, and we come in and do our thing, and they’re thankful for it.

“Long Island Paranormal Investigators started when the co-founder and I decided to look up all the different urban legends on Long Island, like Sweet Hollow Road and Kings Park Psychiatric Center. Then we found out that they sell equipment that goes along with some of the paranormal theories. The whole goal was to go out and see if people were really experiencing things at these locations, or is it just all a hoax?

“My favorite house investigation turned out not to be paranormal, which is crazy because people are like, ‘Why is that your favorite case? You’re a paranormal investigator.’ There was this kid who was having nightmares and screaming every night. We came and we investigated with an electromagnetic-field sweep of the whole house.

“While we were investigating, the needle started spinning by the kid’s bed. When we looked underneath his bed, there was a Star Wars light saber, a toy that was just shooting off high electromagnetic waves between 100-199. The normal levels are below two. High levels of EMF can cause hallucinations, fatigue, depression and feelings of being watched. And this kid was being affected by it.

“We removed the toy and told the family we’ll come back in two weeks. Sure enough, we came back two weeks later; he had been able to sleep in his bed ever since.

“And when we do find evidence of the paranormal, people also tend to feel a sense of relief. People think, ‘Well, at least now I know I’m not crazy,’ and the next step usually is, ‘You caught something. Get rid of it.’ But it’s not like “Ghostbusters,” where we bring a trap and shoot the thing. We normally do a cleansing, which depends on the beliefs of the client.

“The goal now is trying to make this field kind of more known and accepted. There is a real science to the paranormal. That’s what the group means to me. I want what we’re doing to push this field it to the next level. I want the next generation to come could kind of look back on all the reporting we did and say ‘Hey, that’s the right way to do it.’”

Interviewed by Maggie Melito

‘Bringing them up alone was difficult; we didn’t have as much as some people we knew, but we made it through and we did it well.’

Dix Hills

“I moved back to Long Island in 1986 with my kids after my divorce, when my son Scott was 4 and my daughter was 6. We were part of a military family, and we had moved around a lot, and I don’t talk about that much, as our lives were so private before Scott’s murder.

“I was born and raised in New York, moving to Roslyn when I was 9 after my family moved there from Queens. By the time I was a teen, I already knew I wanted to go far away to college so I could truly see who I really was. I went to the University of Arizona, and the experience was amazing.

“From ’76 to ’86, I lived as a military wife. I was an elementary school teacher, and I taught in Germany and in four different U.S. states. My kids were born in the South in two different states.

“When I returned to Long Island with the kids, we moved in with my parents for a while until I could afford to find a place of our own, and we moved to Dix Hills. I worked; I had to work, I had no choice, it was tough and I did the best I could.

“Bringing them up alone was difficult; we didn’t have as much as some people we knew, but we made it through and we did it well. To this day, when I walk down the stairs, I feel thankful to be living in a house that’s mine. Before this, I never did, whether it was post housing or renting or my parents’ house.

“The things that you overcome or survive are amazing. I watched my kids flourish here, with both my kids going away to college. Before that, they both went to sleepaway camp. My daughter went to camp first when Scott was 6, and after the hubbub we made about how great camp was, Scott said he wanted to go the next year.

“My dad told me, ‘He’s never getting on the bus,’ but Scott never looked back, and at age 7 was the youngest kid there. He ended up going for 28 years. It was really nice when he became a CIT [counselor in training], so I didn’t have to pay for him to go anymore! He eventually became a counselor and a staff member.

My husband said, “The name is Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School,” and I said, “OK, so?” But he said, “No, no, no, there was a shooting at the school.”

“After college, Scott stayed in Florida. My parents had also moved there, and it’s where my dad passed, just nine months before Scott. My parents would rely on the kids, especially Scott, who would go to brunch with them every weekend, and then when my dad passed, he’d go with his grandma. He was there for them.

“When they were sick, I’d tell him he needed to get them groceries, and Scott would do it in a heartbeat. My daughter ended up in Connecticut, so it was just my husband and me left here on Long Island.

“My husband is the greatest guy in the whole wide world by the way, I got so lucky. He adopted the kids when they were in their 20s; Scott adored him. Scott became a teacher in Florida, but before that he volunteered to teach in South Africa for two months.

“He went with two suitcases, with what he thought he needed to bring, but when he came back, all he had with him was his favorite pillow in a backpack. I thought at first maybe the airline had lost his suitcases, but when I asked, he put his hand up and just said, ‘Ma, you don’t understand. I left my stuff; they need it way more than I do.’ That’s Scott!

“He got a job teaching geography at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School [in Parkland, Florida] in August of 2017. It was really his excuse to go back to camp, I like to say, as he never stopped loving summer camp. We joked that he needed to go into teaching because you can’t just be a counselor at summer camp for three months and get by on that. But seriously, he loved teaching there. They let him teach the way he would liked to have been taught when he was in school.

“On Feb. 14, 2018, I had taken my husband to the doctor early that morning, at 8 a.m., and after bringing him home, I went to work. Around 2:22 p.m., I got a call from him. He asked what school Scott worked at, and I wasn’t sure; I just knew it had a lot of names. I told him, ‘I’m busy. I’ll talk to you later.’ But then he called me back. My husband said, ‘The name is Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School,’ and I said, ‘OK, so?’ But he said, ‘No, no, no, there was a shooting at the school.’

One of the police officers bent over and said, “You know, your son was definitely a hero.” Then two other officers said, “But he didn’t make it.”

“He told me to come home, but I said no because, and it’s my philosophy, you don’t worry until there’s something to worry about. But then he called me again and said, ‘I think you need to come home,’ because he had heard on TV that a geography teacher was shot. So I went home, and I went fast.

“I told my husband Scott was OK, he was probably in the hospital, and we knew we had to go down there. There weren’t seats available on any plane due to a sports tournament, so we chartered one, even though we couldn’t afford it, we didn’t care. I just put it on a credit card.

“We got down there about 8:45 p.m., and we were whisked off to a command center. We know today that they knew at 2:30 p.m. who had been murdered, but we weren’t told until 1:50 a.m. That’s when they called us in.

“One of the police officers bent over, and said, ’You know, your son was definitely a hero.’ Then two other officers said, ‘But he didn’t make it.’ That’s how we found out it was Scott. I know now that Scott did what he would have wanted someone to do for him. He opened a [classroom] door and saved kids. I think he didn’t stop to think about it; it was instinctual.

“After we were escorted out and got back to the hotel, at about 4:20 a.m., my phone rang. It was a voice going, ‘I’m just letting you know that we’re going to be doing an autopsy.’ I pulled the religion card for the first time in my life and explained, ’You can’t. YOU CAN’T,’ based on my beliefs and ‘What can I do to stop this?’ But the voice said, and I quote, ‘Lady, you can get a court order, you can bring it in, nobody will see it until Monday. Your son will be on ice until then. The judge will not grant it, and we’re going to do that autopsy anyway.’

“This was because it was a criminal investigation, but we didn’t know that at the time. I still don’t know who it was that spoke to me like that during that call, but believe me, I am going to find out. I would like to face-to-face with that person and tell him, ‘Please, don’t ever do that to anybody else,’ and that, ‘I’m scarred from what you did to me.’ I understand, Scott was just another person to him, but I don’t want another person, any other person, to ever hear those same words.

I said I will never mourn my son’s death; I will celebrate his life.

“Scott was shot six times, or as the medical examiner explained, it was actually four times, but because the bullets went in, and then went out…we had everything explained to us ad nauseam.

“I never got to say goodbye to Scott. That is the one thing I will never get past. When we had his funeral, I had to bury him in his cap, because the cap would cover the scar on the back of his head where they had cut.

“I haven’t exactly figured out how I’m going to do it, but I want to be able to show the public what an AR-15 does to you. Scott gives me permission, I believe that. I want to publicly show his autopsy pictures. I want to show what it looked like when Scott was murdered.

“When the medical examiner talked about our loved ones and what happened to them, what a bullet does when it goes in … One of the victims was shot and only hurt, and when he put his hand up as the murderer came back, begging, ‘Please don’t,’ the murderer shot this kid through his hand. The bullet went into his skull, and the medical examiner said after that the only thing holding his head together was his scalp.

“People need to see what it does. They need to see. I need to get to Congress and show them what these weapons do. That’s the only way we’ll ever get the assault rifle ban back. I don’t want to take everybody’s guns away, I just want them to be owned legally, and that they go through the necessary steps to own them, like learning how to use them. But an assault weapon? I mean, if you shoot a deer with it, it’s demolished. In my mind, I can’t understand how this is not common sense, so I realize this must be show and tell.

“At his funeral, I had to speak; whoever thinks they’re going to bury their son? I said I will never mourn my son’s death, I will celebrate his life. That’s what I do.

“Some people I’ve met ask me, ‘How do you do it?’ Well, my experiences, really starting once I got to college, are what made me what I am, that’s what makes you who you are. It makes you have choices: Who do I want to be? Do I want to live hiding under the covers because my son was murdered? Or do I want to make sure nobody else has to go through the hell I went through, and I am still going through?

People talk about my son being a hero, but he was a hero in life.

“Two or three days after the murder, we wanted to do something to honor Scott and his legacy, so we started the Scott J. Beigel Memorial Fund. Based on Scott’s loves, we took what happened. The mission is to send at-risk, underserved children touched by gun violence to summer sleepaway camp, because that was Scott’s love, sleepaway camp.

“Our first year, we sent 54 campers to camp. The second year was the pandemic, so we gave a $25,000 grant to a camp that did virtual camp for 400 children. The third year, we gave out 154 camperships. And then this past year, we gave out 212 camperships after raising $283,600.

“I’ve been told I should write a book, but I’m not doing that, even though I feel like I’ve lived four lifetimes. Every once in a while, I wake up and ask myself, ‘Do I have to do life again?’ But when I visit those kids at the camp in the summer, I look at my husband and say, ‘This is why we do it.’ When I see those kids, and I know where they came from, and they look at me and say things like, ‘Will you send me back again next year?’ or ‘I don’t want camp to be over.’ Because that kid doesn’t know who’s picking her up, or they’re going back to a homeless shelter. That’s what it’s all about.

“I was brought up to care. My daughter was brought up to care. Scott was brought up to care. People talk about my son being a hero that day, but he was a hero in life. How could he have ever looked in the mirror again if he hadn’t done what he did? How could he have done any different? In my mind, there’s no other way he could have done it. What was he going to do, close the door and save himself?

“I believe there is a piece of Scott’s heart in every child we send to camp. Those are not just words; I truly believe that. Every kid we send to camp, that’s a piece of my son alive again. It might sound hokey, but I’ve decided I’m going to believe that. That’s how Scott continues.”

Interviewed by Ian J. Stark