Super Gene's Medical Kryptonite

Even Superman gets old and has medical bills...Our Super Gene Smith went into cardiac arrest on Monday and has been in ICU since.  He is recovering well but it is a very slow process and could be in the hospital for a few more days. He will most likely have to have therapy too, so the bills will add up.  I know that any little bit will be helpful to them. Thanks!
Gene is a father to five beautiful children who just adore him, he has a beautiful wife who all need him very much.  He is a principle at Ammon Elementary and is a soccer coach for his kids soccer team.  He has always been very active in the community and loves all those around him.  

Who is Super Gene?? His sister summed it up this way:
SUPER GENE

I remember going to my first soccer practice 
Old, sweaty shin guards up to my knee caps with your name spelled in blue permanent marker on the inside, 
And I was proud to wear them.

The velcro straps were falling apart, 
And I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I was scared, intimidated, and overwhelmed,
But you played, so I wanted to, too.

I remember learning how to snowboard
And when I got the job teaching, I was so excited to tell you because I thought you would be impressed. 
And I hoped I would someday be as good as you.

And before that day, right after I learned, 
I remember you driving me up the mountain in your tan tacoma and your full camo outfit looked so cool. 
And I was so glad I could go with you.

And when I bought my first mountain bike, 
I made you help me pick it out because I knew nothing about it, and you said you were jealous of my bike,
And it was my favorite thing to own.

In college you took me and my friends camping, 
And I jumped into the fire pit and ended up getting second degree burns on my legs, 
Because you loved fire, and I did too.

And in high school you told me about a band, 
That I loved before I even heard them. And then I started listening to them, and I never stopped. 
Because you loved them.

I remember watching my first soccer game on TV. 
And I had zero interest in the players, the play, the strategy, the game. But I sat through the full 90 minutes,
Because I wanted to to be able to talk to you about.

Spending two hot, desert summers outside mowing lawns, 
Fighting with an old push mower, blisters popping on my hands, the smell of gas stuffed up my nose,
Because if you worked hard, so would I.

And when you were in Peru for two years, 
I slept on the couch when I missed you so I could look at the 8x10 graduation photo of you with your letterman’s jacket 
So I could stay up and tell you about my day.

You wrote a poem about not being enough, 
And mom framed it and hung it up in the living room, and after reading it I went to the old computer in the loft and typed out my first lines of poems.
So I could be a writer like you.

When Sarah was held at the border of Canada, 
Or the ref made a bad call against me at a game and you rushed the field and told him he was an idiot and nearly got kicked out of the game. 
I wanted to be strong enough to defend people like you.

And when we drove with the top down in the Suzuki 
Or across the country to New York, where you had to sleep under the awning of the tent and steamrolled us every night. 
I was grateful to be a part of a family with you.

So with big gulps, and soccer balls, 
Indoor cleats and snowboard boots, dirt, and smiles, fire, books, lawn mowers, and bike pedals. Everything that I love the most. 
I was taught to love them by you.