Hope blossoms for Klussmann 10 years after crash

Andy Klussmann lost his wife, his career, his athletic ability and — for a short time — much of his mental capacity in a car crash 10 years ago to the day Friday.

A driver, whose blood alcohol level was nearly three times the legal limit an hour after the crash, ran a red light and broadsided the van the Klussmanns were in at an intersection in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Janna Klussmann, 41, was killed, and Andy, then a CSU assistant volleyball coach, was left in a coma with a shattered jaw and traumatic brain injury. He was hospitalized for more than five months and had to relearn to walk and talk.

You certainly couldn't blame Klussmann if he were bitter at the world; if he spent his days wallowing in self-pity.

Instead, he committed himself to his children, realizing he now had to be mother and father to Jack, then 2, and Drew, who turned 1 the day of the crash.

"After the crash, I feel a little mortal," Klussmann said Thursday, reflecting on the June 20, 2004, crash that turned his world upside down. "My boys are counting on me to live."

Klussmann, now 50, gave up alcohol about six years ago, saying he had been a "functioning alcoholic" who would drink numerous beers a day without thinking twice about it. Instead, he focused on taking better care of himself in general. He eats healthier, exercises daily and naps when needed.

He's engaged now, to a telemarketer who heard his story several years ago while asking questions to see if he qualified for some energy-efficiency home upgrades. Five minutes after the sales call ended, Janet Radke called back from her personal phone while taking a break and asked if she could check in periodically with him to see how he and his boys were doing.

"His story just touched my heart," Radke said.

The two spoke on the phone for hours each day for the next month and a half, Radke said. Klussmann bought her a plane ticket to come visit him in Fort Collins, and a week and a half after that, she moved here.

J.J., as Klussmann calls her, has eased his burden tremendously. She's helped him become more spiritual, and together, they read from the Bible each morning. Radke lives with Klussmann and his boys and provides a mother figure and the kind of parental "balance" that Klussmann believes his children need after losing their mother at such a young age.

Drew had some memories of his mother in the months following the crash and went through counseling with a child psychologist, Klussmann said, but he doesn't really remember her now. Jack, who was still breast-feeding at the time of the crash, doesn't remember his mother at all.

"We're negotiating just fine," Klussmann said. "They're very caring, normal, wonderful, beautiful boys. I'm blessed, and I know that their mom's proud of them."

For those who saw Klussmann in the months immediately after the crash, while he worked with doctors at Craig Hospital in Englewood while learning how to talk with a rebuilt jaw and walk with muscles that weren't always getting the right signals from his injured brain, it's hard to fathom just how far he has come.

"We were all being supportive, but we were all very scared about it, at the same time," said Tom Hilbert, Colorado State University's volleyball coach. "He was able to recover to a level where he's really functional."

It certainly wasn't easy.

Janna's sister, Marla Blanton, and her husband, Bill, took turns sleeping on the floor of Klussmann's west Fort Collins home for a year after he was released from the hospital.

"They wanted to make sure I didn't burn the house down and that I paid my bills," Klussmann said.

Klussmann's mother, Helen, then moved in and lived with him for three more years. He returned briefly to his youth volleyball coaching position with the Northern Colorado Juniors club program, just to prove to himself that he still knew how to coach, he said. When his boys are older, he might get back into the game. He was a college star at UCLA and played after college on the pro beach tour before getting into coaching.

"I miss it like crazy, but parenting comes first," he said.

Without a job to go to each day, or two jobs as he has had most of his life, Klussmann has turned the backyard of his west Fort Collins home into a haven.

There's a basketball court, surrounded by a fence topped with volleyball nets to corral errant shots, and hooks that hold skateboards and scooters.

There's a disc golf basket, an in-ground gas fire pit surrounded by benches and a flagstone walkway to a back gate that opens to a park.

There's a pergola covering both the side and back patio areas, hooks for hanging chairs and a tiered hillside. Then there's the large tree in one corner, with a bicycle that looks like the one Dorothy was riding when the tornado carried her away in the "Wizard of Oz" suspended from a lower branch. And "The Dude" — a carved wooden nose, giant sunglasses and a tie-dyed headband — watching over the well-traveled neighborhood path that passes between his yard and an adjacent pond.

Working on the yard, he said, has been therapeutic.

"I put lots of positive energy into this yard, and the boys love it," he said.

"I'll come home, and there'll be six or seven boys playing basketball and one of them will be mine. It's a comfortable place to be, and it's pretty safe. The boys can get to the park without having to cross the street. They can do almost everything they want right here."

Klussmann is receiving enough money in disability pay and from various fundraisers, including an annual sand volleyball tournament, to put food on the table and pay his bills.

There's not much left over, though, after taking care of the basics. Finances, he said, will be an issue for the rest of his life.

His brain continues to heal, too. That will also continue for the rest of his life, doctors told him.

Four of five years ago, he couldn't safely throw a baseball with his kids. Now, he plays catch with Drew almost every day.

The path his life has taken is certainly not the one he would have chosen. But he's making the best of it. He knows how much worse it could be.

"It's been quite a trek to negotiate the last 10 years," he said. "All things considered, I couldn't be much more blessed."

Follow reporter Kelly Lyell at twitter.com/KellyLyell and facebook.com/KellyLyell.news.