If you live long enough, you see many things pass in your lifetime. You almost always outlive a pet; often we outlive our parents and both losses are fairly traumatic. Your pets are like your family and without the gift of speech, you have only to trust their behaviors and reactions. The loss of a pet is difficult because that pet can't say goodbye or offer closure to the wonderful part of your life that you have shared. When your parents pass, the grief is often huge but can be eventually placed to the wonderful memories shares in your life from moments of youth to celebrations of adulthood like marriages and partnerships and children and grandchildren. Very often we get closure but we almost always get to communicate. Even our careers and jobs pass. It wasn't long ago that I looked around CRMS and thought it won't be too long and I won't be there. That time is approaching rapidly.
Lest you think I am writing about those monumental occasions, I am not. Today as I was driving from some last minute grocery shopping to start the week, I passed by the old Columbia Arena in Fridley, MN. It stands derelict to the play area that once was teeming with youth, rehearsal space, and the local arena that everyone knew and often followed their local hockey teams. As i passed, it made me think about so many buildings in our lives that we leave behind haunted with memories that were at one time were important, vital, or even character defining.
Last summer tornado destroyed my old high school. While high school wasn't the greatest time in my life as most would remember, the destruction of it cut close to home. So many things happened to me and my high school friends there, romances were won and lost, contests, performances, even many of the teachers who walked those halls are no longer with us. With the loss of the that building, we lose Mr. Hall's room or Mr. Burn's art room. Amazing how 3 years of one's life are tied to that building. Your hall where your locker was your space for 3 years. With the quickness and ferocity of a train, the building collapses and so does part of your history.
Going back to my home town and seeing the house where I grew up in a different color and the backyard fenced in and my dad's garden replaced with a swing set told me I was truly no longer a piece of that property's being. I suppose that is true as everyone grows up and away. While some people eventually move into the house they were raised in, for most of us- it becomes a new journey only to visit during celebrations. Those passings are inevitable and force our own journey which whether we like it or not, we have to travel.
My life was built around teaching young people. The first school where I had my first room, chaperoned my first dance, worked my first football game as a teacher, saw the first graduation that I had been part of was removed and made way for a newer building. Fewer bricks of red with more modern conveniences without a worn stairwell made of marble and a wrought iron hand rail. ADA changed so many things about what schools could be and what they had to be, it was only a matter of time. The school officials saw to let pieces of the old building be purchased. Friends of mine got a piece of my first floor and a brick from the old demolished building. While I can no longer walk the 3 classroom hallway which I thought was giant back then, I can still have a piece of the old yellow shellacked floor. While the building is no longer in its original, I have a vital piece to connect with the thousands of memories of those first 6 years. Soon that time will come for me to do the same for CRMS. This marks my 26th year there and have worked from 4 different rooms in that span.
The old Columbia Arena is an eye sore at this point. The building itself has remained too long. The round building where they filmed Mighty Ducks, the 49'er Days' celebrations at the park where you could see the helicopter land for rides, the craft fairs that were once part of the yearly use of that buildings are just ghosts from another time. Ghosts who wander the along the parking lot in disrepair and covered in rogue grass breaking the tar into incomplete patterns. I will not say good bye to Columbia Arena just yet. Some investor will dream and see it rise like a Phoenix along University Ave. Once again vital with the cheers of loyal fans!
Keith
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
What about Bob?
Over the course of the last 5-6 years, we have brought a person into our family who has enriched our lives, become a close friend, almost an older son if you will. So much that Louise refers to him as our older son. While that is another blog, the uniqueness of the situation lends itself for me to talk about another person who has been and continues to be someone of great importance in my life.
If you have followed any of my blogs across this year, you will often hear me talk about Ortonville. It’s hard for me not to think of Ortonville as my hometown for many reasons. During those years of my first teaching job, I really grew up there, found a real family, and really the foundation for whom I have become was set there. I was brought into this terrific family that through the years has blessed my life so richly. It’s hard to imagine even being around let alone a husband, dad, teacher, or a coach without that influence. Among those lifelong influences comes from my friend Bob.
You need to know a few things about Bob-you will never find a man with a kinder heart. You will never find a man with bigger shoulders. You will never find a man who truly believes in the goodness of people. While I would like to think I can do that, I hide in the shadow of this man. Some of life’s greatest lessons I have learned from this man- as well as how to make Taco Salad the right way!
I was excited to get my first job teaching. I had no clue that a small town would be so small (even after growing up in one). Floundering a little to find a place, I immersed myself in everything. I coached jr. high wrestling- can you say sit out? I directed the plays, advised the newspaper and the junior class, challenged the social studies teacher who ran the AV room, and did just about anything I could to get noticed. One Sunday afternoon, I drove up to the football field which I quickly learned was the center of town on Friday nights to engage in some flag football. While not being a jock (the wrestling thing was to impress this overbearing and often inappropriate coach teacher), I figure it would be a good mixer. Some of the other new teachers were going and so I did as well. Instantly, Bob had organized the game, had me on his side, didn’t’ matter that I was the chubby one, and brought me into the Sunday flag football group as though I had been there years.
It was just the start. Over the years I was in Ortonville, Bob not only befriended me but allowed me to be a part of him and his family’s lives. I have to share what a giant of a man this guy is (for sure in my eyes ). Life was often troublesome for me for lots of reasons. Bob saw a way to make them even keel. He found a way to make large things appear insignificant. He never had a moment when he wasn’t afraid to show me how to be supportive to kids, people, and community. I can pinpoint moments that 25 years are as vivid today and as important to me as they were back then, perhaps even more important with time, age, and history.
Here are few across the short time of living in Ortonville are moments that I not only cherish but have built into my character:
Getting the chance to play Flag football and later Broomball. You have no idea of the confidence builder those were, Bob. It showed me that moving out of my comfort zone on some things was good for the character, soul, and body. I am still figuring out golf.
Walks along the lake road that were supposed to be good for us physically were also good for us spiritually. It’s where I knew it was ok to be a Christian Man.
When Ben died and Chuck and I got lost in the cities, you were there to comfort us in spite of just losing your son. I learned that hearts break for lots of reason and people that care about you can heal them.
I remember playing racquetball with you and being beaten. I was so upset with myself and cursed and was a poor sport. I learned to be a good sport that night. You were upset by the behavior, never once telling me so just by how your reactions went from excited to feeling overwhelmed by the bad behaviors.
Cheering kids to success even those that are not yours is important. You were there to support speech and plays, things I’m not sure you knew much about in the beginning, but took an interest cause they were mine. I remember making the cancer patients look ill with your expertise while directing The Shadow Box.
The several times you took me fishing. While you were focused in on the job at hand, it was the unspoken that was louder than words. That has been a valuable lesson for me all my life. I talk if uneasy. Sometimes “no words” is more important than many.
The gift of your family, especially those three boys, taught me what a family is and how you are part of your family no matter its configuration. It was great that I could show that learning back by bringing my own family to you. In fact, the greatest tribute to you and Mary was to have you be Godparents to Zach.
As I have gotten older and have had medical issues that frighten or confuse me, you have been there to be my resource and a support if need be. I remember how frightened you were when you tipped the 3 wheeler and really hurt yourself. I remember how more frightened you were when I tipped the 3 wheeler while we delivered meds in a snowstorm.
In the few and infrequent trips I make to my “ home town” these days, I get all excited when I hit Starbuck. In my mind, I can see the house, I can see the room and the piano and the kitchen where I spent so many moments of my life, It’s where I learned the greatest cook was the Clubhouse when it really was Mary. It’s where I studied for my GRE because some how it was easier at your place. It’s where time and time again I found home.
When I was younger and living in Ortonville, there was a Kenny Rogers song from a Burt Lancaster Kirk Douglas movie called “Tough Guys” . I used to think that how cool it would be to someday think “They Don’t Make Them Like They Used To“ was about you and me, Bob. Here we are and guess what, they don’t.
Thanks for so much for what I’m sure you never knew you gave.
Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
Over the course of the last 5-6 years, we have brought a person into our family who has enriched our lives, become a close friend, almost an older son if you will. So much that Louise refers to him as our older son. While that is another blog, the uniqueness of the situation lends itself for me to talk about another person who has been and continues to be someone of great importance in my life.
If you have followed any of my blogs across this year, you will often hear me talk about Ortonville. It’s hard for me not to think of Ortonville as my hometown for many reasons. During those years of my first teaching job, I really grew up there, found a real family, and really the foundation for whom I have become was set there. I was brought into this terrific family that through the years has blessed my life so richly. It’s hard to imagine even being around let alone a husband, dad, teacher, or a coach without that influence. Among those lifelong influences comes from my friend Bob.
You need to know a few things about Bob-you will never find a man with a kinder heart. You will never find a man with bigger shoulders. You will never find a man who truly believes in the goodness of people. While I would like to think I can do that, I hide in the shadow of this man. Some of life’s greatest lessons I have learned from this man- as well as how to make Taco Salad the right way!
I was excited to get my first job teaching. I had no clue that a small town would be so small (even after growing up in one). Floundering a little to find a place, I immersed myself in everything. I coached jr. high wrestling- can you say sit out? I directed the plays, advised the newspaper and the junior class, challenged the social studies teacher who ran the AV room, and did just about anything I could to get noticed. One Sunday afternoon, I drove up to the football field which I quickly learned was the center of town on Friday nights to engage in some flag football. While not being a jock (the wrestling thing was to impress this overbearing and often inappropriate coach teacher), I figure it would be a good mixer. Some of the other new teachers were going and so I did as well. Instantly, Bob had organized the game, had me on his side, didn’t’ matter that I was the chubby one, and brought me into the Sunday flag football group as though I had been there years.
It was just the start. Over the years I was in Ortonville, Bob not only befriended me but allowed me to be a part of him and his family’s lives. I have to share what a giant of a man this guy is (for sure in my eyes ). Life was often troublesome for me for lots of reasons. Bob saw a way to make them even keel. He found a way to make large things appear insignificant. He never had a moment when he wasn’t afraid to show me how to be supportive to kids, people, and community. I can pinpoint moments that 25 years are as vivid today and as important to me as they were back then, perhaps even more important with time, age, and history.
Here are few across the short time of living in Ortonville are moments that I not only cherish but have built into my character:
Getting the chance to play Flag football and later Broomball. You have no idea of the confidence builder those were, Bob. It showed me that moving out of my comfort zone on some things was good for the character, soul, and body. I am still figuring out golf.
Walks along the lake road that were supposed to be good for us physically were also good for us spiritually. It’s where I knew it was ok to be a Christian Man.
When Ben died and Chuck and I got lost in the cities, you were there to comfort us in spite of just losing your son. I learned that hearts break for lots of reason and people that care about you can heal them.
I remember playing racquetball with you and being beaten. I was so upset with myself and cursed and was a poor sport. I learned to be a good sport that night. You were upset by the behavior, never once telling me so just by how your reactions went from excited to feeling overwhelmed by the bad behaviors.
Cheering kids to success even those that are not yours is important. You were there to support speech and plays, things I’m not sure you knew much about in the beginning, but took an interest cause they were mine. I remember making the cancer patients look ill with your expertise while directing The Shadow Box.
The several times you took me fishing. While you were focused in on the job at hand, it was the unspoken that was louder than words. That has been a valuable lesson for me all my life. I talk if uneasy. Sometimes “no words” is more important than many.
The gift of your family, especially those three boys, taught me what a family is and how you are part of your family no matter its configuration. It was great that I could show that learning back by bringing my own family to you. In fact, the greatest tribute to you and Mary was to have you be Godparents to Zach.
As I have gotten older and have had medical issues that frighten or confuse me, you have been there to be my resource and a support if need be. I remember how frightened you were when you tipped the 3 wheeler and really hurt yourself. I remember how more frightened you were when I tipped the 3 wheeler while we delivered meds in a snowstorm.
In the few and infrequent trips I make to my “ home town” these days, I get all excited when I hit Starbuck. In my mind, I can see the house, I can see the room and the piano and the kitchen where I spent so many moments of my life, It’s where I learned the greatest cook was the Clubhouse when it really was Mary. It’s where I studied for my GRE because some how it was easier at your place. It’s where time and time again I found home.
When I was younger and living in Ortonville, there was a Kenny Rogers song from a Burt Lancaster Kirk Douglas movie called “Tough Guys” . I used to think that how cool it would be to someday think “They Don’t Make Them Like They Used To“ was about you and me, Bob. Here we are and guess what, they don’t.
Thanks for so much for what I’m sure you never knew you gave.
Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
Here is a youtube version of that song!!
Cut and paste the following in your browser to hear the song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zf61NJKQXrQ
If you have followed any of my blogs across this year, you will often hear me talk about Ortonville. It’s hard for me not to think of Ortonville as my hometown for many reasons. During those years of my first teaching job, I really grew up there, found a real family, and really the foundation for whom I have become was set there. I was brought into this terrific family that through the years has blessed my life so richly. It’s hard to imagine even being around let alone a husband, dad, teacher, or a coach without that influence. Among those lifelong influences comes from my friend Bob.
You need to know a few things about Bob-you will never find a man with a kinder heart. You will never find a man with bigger shoulders. You will never find a man who truly believes in the goodness of people. While I would like to think I can do that, I hide in the shadow of this man. Some of life’s greatest lessons I have learned from this man- as well as how to make Taco Salad the right way!
I was excited to get my first job teaching. I had no clue that a small town would be so small (even after growing up in one). Floundering a little to find a place, I immersed myself in everything. I coached jr. high wrestling- can you say sit out? I directed the plays, advised the newspaper and the junior class, challenged the social studies teacher who ran the AV room, and did just about anything I could to get noticed. One Sunday afternoon, I drove up to the football field which I quickly learned was the center of town on Friday nights to engage in some flag football. While not being a jock (the wrestling thing was to impress this overbearing and often inappropriate coach teacher), I figure it would be a good mixer. Some of the other new teachers were going and so I did as well. Instantly, Bob had organized the game, had me on his side, didn’t’ matter that I was the chubby one, and brought me into the Sunday flag football group as though I had been there years.
It was just the start. Over the years I was in Ortonville, Bob not only befriended me but allowed me to be a part of him and his family’s lives. I have to share what a giant of a man this guy is (for sure in my eyes ). Life was often troublesome for me for lots of reasons. Bob saw a way to make them even keel. He found a way to make large things appear insignificant. He never had a moment when he wasn’t afraid to show me how to be supportive to kids, people, and community. I can pinpoint moments that 25 years are as vivid today and as important to me as they were back then, perhaps even more important with time, age, and history.
Here are few across the short time of living in Ortonville are moments that I not only cherish but have built into my character:
Getting the chance to play Flag football and later Broomball. You have no idea of the confidence builder those were, Bob. It showed me that moving out of my comfort zone on some things was good for the character, soul, and body. I am still figuring out golf.
Walks along the lake road that were supposed to be good for us physically were also good for us spiritually. It’s where I knew it was ok to be a Christian Man.
When Ben died and Chuck and I got lost in the cities, you were there to comfort us in spite of just losing your son. I learned that hearts break for lots of reason and people that care about you can heal them.
I remember playing racquetball with you and being beaten. I was so upset with myself and cursed and was a poor sport. I learned to be a good sport that night. You were upset by the behavior, never once telling me so just by how your reactions went from excited to feeling overwhelmed by the bad behaviors.
Cheering kids to success even those that are not yours is important. You were there to support speech and plays, things I’m not sure you knew much about in the beginning, but took an interest cause they were mine. I remember making the cancer patients look ill with your expertise while directing The Shadow Box.
The several times you took me fishing. While you were focused in on the job at hand, it was the unspoken that was louder than words. That has been a valuable lesson for me all my life. I talk if uneasy. Sometimes “no words” is more important than many.
The gift of your family, especially those three boys, taught me what a family is and how you are part of your family no matter its configuration. It was great that I could show that learning back by bringing my own family to you. In fact, the greatest tribute to you and Mary was to have you be Godparents to Zach.
As I have gotten older and have had medical issues that frighten or confuse me, you have been there to be my resource and a support if need be. I remember how frightened you were when you tipped the 3 wheeler and really hurt yourself. I remember how more frightened you were when I tipped the 3 wheeler while we delivered meds in a snowstorm.
In the few and infrequent trips I make to my “ home town” these days, I get all excited when I hit Starbuck. In my mind, I can see the house, I can see the room and the piano and the kitchen where I spent so many moments of my life, It’s where I learned the greatest cook was the Clubhouse when it really was Mary. It’s where I studied for my GRE because some how it was easier at your place. It’s where time and time again I found home.
When I was younger and living in Ortonville, there was a Kenny Rogers song from a Burt Lancaster Kirk Douglas movie called “Tough Guys” . I used to think that how cool it would be to someday think “They Don’t Make Them Like They Used To“ was about you and me, Bob. Here we are and guess what, they don’t.
Thanks for so much for what I’m sure you never knew you gave.
Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
Over the course of the last 5-6 years, we have brought a person into our family who has enriched our lives, become a close friend, almost an older son if you will. So much that Louise refers to him as our older son. While that is another blog, the uniqueness of the situation lends itself for me to talk about another person who has been and continues to be someone of great importance in my life.
If you have followed any of my blogs across this year, you will often hear me talk about Ortonville. It’s hard for me not to think of Ortonville as my hometown for many reasons. During those years of my first teaching job, I really grew up there, found a real family, and really the foundation for whom I have become was set there. I was brought into this terrific family that through the years has blessed my life so richly. It’s hard to imagine even being around let alone a husband, dad, teacher, or a coach without that influence. Among those lifelong influences comes from my friend Bob.
You need to know a few things about Bob-you will never find a man with a kinder heart. You will never find a man with bigger shoulders. You will never find a man who truly believes in the goodness of people. While I would like to think I can do that, I hide in the shadow of this man. Some of life’s greatest lessons I have learned from this man- as well as how to make Taco Salad the right way!
I was excited to get my first job teaching. I had no clue that a small town would be so small (even after growing up in one). Floundering a little to find a place, I immersed myself in everything. I coached jr. high wrestling- can you say sit out? I directed the plays, advised the newspaper and the junior class, challenged the social studies teacher who ran the AV room, and did just about anything I could to get noticed. One Sunday afternoon, I drove up to the football field which I quickly learned was the center of town on Friday nights to engage in some flag football. While not being a jock (the wrestling thing was to impress this overbearing and often inappropriate coach teacher), I figure it would be a good mixer. Some of the other new teachers were going and so I did as well. Instantly, Bob had organized the game, had me on his side, didn’t’ matter that I was the chubby one, and brought me into the Sunday flag football group as though I had been there years.
It was just the start. Over the years I was in Ortonville, Bob not only befriended me but allowed me to be a part of him and his family’s lives. I have to share what a giant of a man this guy is (for sure in my eyes ). Life was often troublesome for me for lots of reasons. Bob saw a way to make them even keel. He found a way to make large things appear insignificant. He never had a moment when he wasn’t afraid to show me how to be supportive to kids, people, and community. I can pinpoint moments that 25 years are as vivid today and as important to me as they were back then, perhaps even more important with time, age, and history.
Here are few across the short time of living in Ortonville are moments that I not only cherish but have built into my character:
Getting the chance to play Flag football and later Broomball. You have no idea of the confidence builder those were, Bob. It showed me that moving out of my comfort zone on some things was good for the character, soul, and body. I am still figuring out golf.
Walks along the lake road that were supposed to be good for us physically were also good for us spiritually. It’s where I knew it was ok to be a Christian Man.
When Ben died and Chuck and I got lost in the cities, you were there to comfort us in spite of just losing your son. I learned that hearts break for lots of reason and people that care about you can heal them.
I remember playing racquetball with you and being beaten. I was so upset with myself and cursed and was a poor sport. I learned to be a good sport that night. You were upset by the behavior, never once telling me so just by how your reactions went from excited to feeling overwhelmed by the bad behaviors.
Cheering kids to success even those that are not yours is important. You were there to support speech and plays, things I’m not sure you knew much about in the beginning, but took an interest cause they were mine. I remember making the cancer patients look ill with your expertise while directing The Shadow Box.
The several times you took me fishing. While you were focused in on the job at hand, it was the unspoken that was louder than words. That has been a valuable lesson for me all my life. I talk if uneasy. Sometimes “no words” is more important than many.
The gift of your family, especially those three boys, taught me what a family is and how you are part of your family no matter its configuration. It was great that I could show that learning back by bringing my own family to you. In fact, the greatest tribute to you and Mary was to have you be Godparents to Zach.
As I have gotten older and have had medical issues that frighten or confuse me, you have been there to be my resource and a support if need be. I remember how frightened you were when you tipped the 3 wheeler and really hurt yourself. I remember how more frightened you were when I tipped the 3 wheeler while we delivered meds in a snowstorm.
In the few and infrequent trips I make to my “ home town” these days, I get all excited when I hit Starbuck. In my mind, I can see the house, I can see the room and the piano and the kitchen where I spent so many moments of my life, It’s where I learned the greatest cook was the Clubhouse when it really was Mary. It’s where I studied for my GRE because some how it was easier at your place. It’s where time and time again I found home.
When I was younger and living in Ortonville, there was a Kenny Rogers song from a Burt Lancaster Kirk Douglas movie called “Tough Guys” . I used to think that how cool it would be to someday think “They Don’t Make Them Like They Used To“ was about you and me, Bob. Here we are and guess what, they don’t.
Thanks for so much for what I’m sure you never knew you gave.
Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
Here is a youtube version of that song!!
Cut and paste the following in your browser to hear the song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zf61NJKQXrQ
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Woman is the mother of the World ( Sorry John Lennon )
Today on Mother's Day, we get the opportunity to celebrate all that is a mother. The celebration knows no age and includes anyone who ever gave birth or anyone who nurtured us. The father of grown children, I don't always take the time to think about my own mother, those that I know are mothers, and those who selflessly allowed me to be a part of their lives. I am the better for all.
I lost my mother many years before, perhaps 10. I know some would fault me for not knowing exactly when my mother died ( I could look it up on the death certificate that resides somewhere in my house), but I really don't remember. I know it was in early December. My brother's family and I had been at my parents' house for Thanksgiving, and the conversation got around to the concern for Mom's welfare in the house and should we be looking at some sort of assisted living for her. Falling asleep while eating, see her deteriorate rapidly that fall, we knew the time would be coming soon that my dad would not be able to take care of her. Ironically, we always had secretly wished my dad would pass first concerned that he would never be able to take care of himself with mom doing the cooking, cleaning, shopping and all of it. Mom went into congestive heart failure, fell asleep at the hospital and passed quietly. While I don't remember the exact date, I remember the details.
My mom never really had the coping skill set she needed to exist in a marriage with an alcoholic. Most of my friends know that I grew up in a tough home. My dad would drink a large chunk of the money he earned working hard at silo cement factory. Mom did various odd jobs; retail, daycare, some sewing to make ends meet from the loss of income to the alcoholism. I remind myself all the time of this when I think back to the life I had growing up. Hers was no better and she had children to take care.
Rather than speak of the difficulties she had let, let me extol about all the amazing things she did, then share about the other wonderful moms I have had. My own mother worked to make sure I had the things that most adolescents had even though there was little money to make the happen. Often depriving herself of needed things, I had a money for new clothes for a dance, a record album I wanted, or even a special meal. Often the money wasn't there to do those things, but somehow or another she made it happen. She was often mother and father to me. She held a house together when sometimes the bills were more than the income. She made sure that when friends came to visit my drunken father was often out of sight, knowing that it would reflect on me. She kept me going to church even when I thought it was for little kids or old people. She knew all the right things to do, did them, and made sure they were available.
When I was older and left home, I found that mothers are mothers everywhere. They have no issue bringing you into their family and the rewards from such a relationship are profound. My first year of teaching was a year of soul searching. I knew what I wanted, I knew what I needed to do, I knew that I probably didn't have all the things I needed to make it happen. I found myself a part of an amazing family- not just one part but all of it. Jay Ross connected to me as a young teacher, saw I was floundering with so many parts of my first year, and became a self less mentor, With Jay, came Gloria. Already a mother of four growing kids, she made room in her heart and home for me. It wasn't long that she was my second mother. She fed me, listened when things were not going well, scolded me when I did stupid stuff, and never ever was without a hug if i needed one. She is an amazing woman, After her kids were almost grown, she went back to school, got a degree, started a career and continues that to this day. One could say her husband Jay is a dreamer. One could say I am very much like him. She was able to hold so many things together. Last summer, like so many other women, Gloria had a cancer scare. I never ever thought there could be a time when she wasn't there. Gratefully, she is well and back to normal and can still work, fish, cook and keep that immaculate house that she does all the time being a grandma too! I love you Gloria!
In that same family, Jay's younger brother, Bob, is married to an equally marvelous lady. Mary is responsible for some many good things in my life. I often refer to my years in Ortonville as the years I grew up. Mary is probably the most responsible for my faith life. I have learned so much about Christian faith from her. She is always patient, kind, and loving, One of the greatest gifts she ever gave me was the chance to be around her sons when they were little. To this day, those guys are very dear to me as is the entire family. Mary is a woman is always gracious- no matter what. She is styled with class, educated, and loves to laugh. I often wonder what my life would be like if God didn't plant her there. Whether her role be friend, sister, mother, the care and love i have for her and her family is so real and rich. This is the stuff of God's promise!
My Aunt Diana remains one the greatest women I have met. She has had her score of troubles and remains undaunted by most things. She never never forgets to laugh! When I get to have a conversation with her, I usually end up feeling 10 feet tall because we have laughed for the entire length of the phone call. Married to my Uncle Rich, whom I wrote about earlier and who was a dreamer and compassionate man, she was the stability in a marriage that had its turns. When my uncle could be impetuous or stubborn, she could find a way to bring a calmness to the situation. When my uncle passed away, I vowed to keep in contact with her. In many families, she would have just been my uncle's wife. She is not just that, she is someone I love, wish I saw more often, and will treasure always. Aunt Diana I love you!
There are others. My friend Doug's mother is amazing. Pat is another woman who could conquer the world if need be. She is kind, loving, incredibly gracious and another woman of faith. I sometimes think of WWPD ( what would Pat do ) in circumstances of frustration with my church and other things in my life. She understands things before they surface, and she has so much common sense. When I get to hang out with friend Doug, I see her grace in him every time we are together! Thanks Pat for taking the time to be involved! Thanks for taking the interest in me and my family. I think you are one of the solid rocks of St. Matthew's.
When the African saying " It takes a community to raise a child" was more popular than it is today, I always understood what it means. God places so many people in our lives it's impossible for His grace not so show through in the women in our lives. We are blessed by the love of all those who day in day out help us get by, survive, and make it a wonderful life!
Thank you.
Keith
I lost my mother many years before, perhaps 10. I know some would fault me for not knowing exactly when my mother died ( I could look it up on the death certificate that resides somewhere in my house), but I really don't remember. I know it was in early December. My brother's family and I had been at my parents' house for Thanksgiving, and the conversation got around to the concern for Mom's welfare in the house and should we be looking at some sort of assisted living for her. Falling asleep while eating, see her deteriorate rapidly that fall, we knew the time would be coming soon that my dad would not be able to take care of her. Ironically, we always had secretly wished my dad would pass first concerned that he would never be able to take care of himself with mom doing the cooking, cleaning, shopping and all of it. Mom went into congestive heart failure, fell asleep at the hospital and passed quietly. While I don't remember the exact date, I remember the details.
My mom never really had the coping skill set she needed to exist in a marriage with an alcoholic. Most of my friends know that I grew up in a tough home. My dad would drink a large chunk of the money he earned working hard at silo cement factory. Mom did various odd jobs; retail, daycare, some sewing to make ends meet from the loss of income to the alcoholism. I remind myself all the time of this when I think back to the life I had growing up. Hers was no better and she had children to take care.
Rather than speak of the difficulties she had let, let me extol about all the amazing things she did, then share about the other wonderful moms I have had. My own mother worked to make sure I had the things that most adolescents had even though there was little money to make the happen. Often depriving herself of needed things, I had a money for new clothes for a dance, a record album I wanted, or even a special meal. Often the money wasn't there to do those things, but somehow or another she made it happen. She was often mother and father to me. She held a house together when sometimes the bills were more than the income. She made sure that when friends came to visit my drunken father was often out of sight, knowing that it would reflect on me. She kept me going to church even when I thought it was for little kids or old people. She knew all the right things to do, did them, and made sure they were available.
When I was older and left home, I found that mothers are mothers everywhere. They have no issue bringing you into their family and the rewards from such a relationship are profound. My first year of teaching was a year of soul searching. I knew what I wanted, I knew what I needed to do, I knew that I probably didn't have all the things I needed to make it happen. I found myself a part of an amazing family- not just one part but all of it. Jay Ross connected to me as a young teacher, saw I was floundering with so many parts of my first year, and became a self less mentor, With Jay, came Gloria. Already a mother of four growing kids, she made room in her heart and home for me. It wasn't long that she was my second mother. She fed me, listened when things were not going well, scolded me when I did stupid stuff, and never ever was without a hug if i needed one. She is an amazing woman, After her kids were almost grown, she went back to school, got a degree, started a career and continues that to this day. One could say her husband Jay is a dreamer. One could say I am very much like him. She was able to hold so many things together. Last summer, like so many other women, Gloria had a cancer scare. I never ever thought there could be a time when she wasn't there. Gratefully, she is well and back to normal and can still work, fish, cook and keep that immaculate house that she does all the time being a grandma too! I love you Gloria!
In that same family, Jay's younger brother, Bob, is married to an equally marvelous lady. Mary is responsible for some many good things in my life. I often refer to my years in Ortonville as the years I grew up. Mary is probably the most responsible for my faith life. I have learned so much about Christian faith from her. She is always patient, kind, and loving, One of the greatest gifts she ever gave me was the chance to be around her sons when they were little. To this day, those guys are very dear to me as is the entire family. Mary is a woman is always gracious- no matter what. She is styled with class, educated, and loves to laugh. I often wonder what my life would be like if God didn't plant her there. Whether her role be friend, sister, mother, the care and love i have for her and her family is so real and rich. This is the stuff of God's promise!
My Aunt Diana remains one the greatest women I have met. She has had her score of troubles and remains undaunted by most things. She never never forgets to laugh! When I get to have a conversation with her, I usually end up feeling 10 feet tall because we have laughed for the entire length of the phone call. Married to my Uncle Rich, whom I wrote about earlier and who was a dreamer and compassionate man, she was the stability in a marriage that had its turns. When my uncle could be impetuous or stubborn, she could find a way to bring a calmness to the situation. When my uncle passed away, I vowed to keep in contact with her. In many families, she would have just been my uncle's wife. She is not just that, she is someone I love, wish I saw more often, and will treasure always. Aunt Diana I love you!
There are others. My friend Doug's mother is amazing. Pat is another woman who could conquer the world if need be. She is kind, loving, incredibly gracious and another woman of faith. I sometimes think of WWPD ( what would Pat do ) in circumstances of frustration with my church and other things in my life. She understands things before they surface, and she has so much common sense. When I get to hang out with friend Doug, I see her grace in him every time we are together! Thanks Pat for taking the time to be involved! Thanks for taking the interest in me and my family. I think you are one of the solid rocks of St. Matthew's.
When the African saying " It takes a community to raise a child" was more popular than it is today, I always understood what it means. God places so many people in our lives it's impossible for His grace not so show through in the women in our lives. We are blessed by the love of all those who day in day out help us get by, survive, and make it a wonderful life!
Thank you.
Keith
Monday, April 25, 2011
I was working in a lab a late one night....
For those of you that know me or are a part of my life, you know that I eat, sleep and breathe speech during the speech season. The season starts about December and runs solidly through end of the school year. This year speechies, you maybe didn’t know this, but you were an experiment. As Coach Tim and talk about speech all year long (yes if drives those that know us crazy), we thought what could we do to make the team grow and make the team a more viable team. Team 10- 11, you are that experiment.
The experiment started back in August when we had incoming seniors organize a speech breakfast to get kids thinking about recruiting new freshman and students. It was a great time to reminisce and to dream. It was great to see how all the current members attached to the idea and ran with it. An August morning at Matthew’s, it took flight.
Through networking via Facebook and cell phones, we kept the pulse beating. We talked to Coach Quinlan about doing a senior retreat to unify the team and get things going. We also talked Q into having a junior captain something I did at Coon Rapids as head coach. The junior captain allows for continuity.
We saw, we met, we elected Ryan, Alex, Karin and our junior captain Andy. The season began with the captains hosting the all team meeting in January and getting us united and heading toward what we hoped would be a banner season. We started with a huge team, dressed them in red, and came a calling. The season was amazing with students from all categories and events having a great season culminating with a 2nd, 3rd, 6th, and 8th at the state tourney.
What did learn from our experiment? First, we have amazing kids who want to do the best they can, and do. We had leadership at all levels, and we had PHIL! Phil was our man; he rallied the team in his unassuming and professional manner. We all grew moustaches! The moustache rally was only one of the ways this time united.
Secondly, we had dedicated students who would not settle for mediocre. Sure it happened, but like a see saw, when one dropped, the others arose. Finally, we had a pride this year that was unrivaled in the past. We wanted to do well for Centennial, the coach, and each other. We held each other up and moved forward.
The seniors are about to move on. We are grateful for your leadership, we are grateful for your competition, and we grateful for you as people. This time is always bittersweet because we know you have to graduate and move forward. We are sad to see you go; we are excited for your new experiences in college and life. We are proud of whom you’ve become.
Lab grade A+
Keith
The experiment started back in August when we had incoming seniors organize a speech breakfast to get kids thinking about recruiting new freshman and students. It was a great time to reminisce and to dream. It was great to see how all the current members attached to the idea and ran with it. An August morning at Matthew’s, it took flight.
Through networking via Facebook and cell phones, we kept the pulse beating. We talked to Coach Quinlan about doing a senior retreat to unify the team and get things going. We also talked Q into having a junior captain something I did at Coon Rapids as head coach. The junior captain allows for continuity.
We saw, we met, we elected Ryan, Alex, Karin and our junior captain Andy. The season began with the captains hosting the all team meeting in January and getting us united and heading toward what we hoped would be a banner season. We started with a huge team, dressed them in red, and came a calling. The season was amazing with students from all categories and events having a great season culminating with a 2nd, 3rd, 6th, and 8th at the state tourney.
What did learn from our experiment? First, we have amazing kids who want to do the best they can, and do. We had leadership at all levels, and we had PHIL! Phil was our man; he rallied the team in his unassuming and professional manner. We all grew moustaches! The moustache rally was only one of the ways this time united.
Secondly, we had dedicated students who would not settle for mediocre. Sure it happened, but like a see saw, when one dropped, the others arose. Finally, we had a pride this year that was unrivaled in the past. We wanted to do well for Centennial, the coach, and each other. We held each other up and moved forward.
The seniors are about to move on. We are grateful for your leadership, we are grateful for your competition, and we grateful for you as people. This time is always bittersweet because we know you have to graduate and move forward. We are sad to see you go; we are excited for your new experiences in college and life. We are proud of whom you’ve become.
Lab grade A+
Keith
Sunday, March 27, 2011
6 ,5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Unite!
This weekend I witnessed a sight that I haven't seen in about 28 years, a state basketball game. In my early years at Ortonville as a young teacher, I followed every game, hung on every shot, cried at every loss, and celebrated every win. Winter 1982, Ortonville went to the state basketball tournaments. We were beaten in our first game by Chisholm ( interesting that I still remember that). While it was devastating, what it did for our community was what every trip to the state tournament does for every community. We put aside our differences, and we became one.
This past weekend I was once again caught up in the proud community swell that is the state basketball tournament. This time we owe Coach Willie and the boy's basketball team from Columbia Heights for that great excitement that is the post season in any high school sport. What we really owe them is a debt of gratitude for uniting the community together behind something so significant as this ballgame. The Target center was a sea of blue and yellow for the three games this past week. Work did not allow me to see the preliminary games, but I know a bus was filled with people from our community, students on spring break got to see the game without missing school, and our fan support base was amazing.
In a sometimes divided community because of our immigration and diversity, all of the that seem insignificant as we cheered our team as they entered the arena to play that game. In my 15 years as a school board member, I have not witnessed such unification of our community even though we have tried, often with limited success, over the last few years. We have had pockets of small gains, but nothing as large as this game. We were not different groups of people, we were Hylanders. We bled blue and yellow. The past few efforts of collaboration will be testaments to the this series of games: when all is said and done, we love our kids, we love our school, we love community. You have heard our Mayor talk about it, you have heard our board chairs and superintendent talk about it, but nothing is as clear as standing together all in one cheering the rouser!
So thank you Willie, you believe in our students and our school. We are grateful and thankful for you and your leadership. Thank you Hylander basketball team and all teams, athletic and academic, you continue to give us reason to be proud of you and of our community. Let's remember the lesson of this weekend. No matter what color or language or place we come from, we are Hylanders and that is enough to believe in. We're going to fight for you our honor, our team so strong and true.
And that's the game!
Keith
This past weekend I was once again caught up in the proud community swell that is the state basketball tournament. This time we owe Coach Willie and the boy's basketball team from Columbia Heights for that great excitement that is the post season in any high school sport. What we really owe them is a debt of gratitude for uniting the community together behind something so significant as this ballgame. The Target center was a sea of blue and yellow for the three games this past week. Work did not allow me to see the preliminary games, but I know a bus was filled with people from our community, students on spring break got to see the game without missing school, and our fan support base was amazing.
In a sometimes divided community because of our immigration and diversity, all of the that seem insignificant as we cheered our team as they entered the arena to play that game. In my 15 years as a school board member, I have not witnessed such unification of our community even though we have tried, often with limited success, over the last few years. We have had pockets of small gains, but nothing as large as this game. We were not different groups of people, we were Hylanders. We bled blue and yellow. The past few efforts of collaboration will be testaments to the this series of games: when all is said and done, we love our kids, we love our school, we love community. You have heard our Mayor talk about it, you have heard our board chairs and superintendent talk about it, but nothing is as clear as standing together all in one cheering the rouser!
So thank you Willie, you believe in our students and our school. We are grateful and thankful for you and your leadership. Thank you Hylander basketball team and all teams, athletic and academic, you continue to give us reason to be proud of you and of our community. Let's remember the lesson of this weekend. No matter what color or language or place we come from, we are Hylanders and that is enough to believe in. We're going to fight for you our honor, our team so strong and true.
And that's the game!
Keith
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Got your nose......
This last weekend, Louise and I were lucky enough to escape the cold and snow to spend some time in Florida. While I could rant and rave about how beautiful the weather was, or that how cool it was to smell smells outside, or see a bee hovering through hibiscus plants, I noticed other things that I thought were more important to write about. When you were little, did your dad or mom play got your nose with you? You know the trick: an adult goes up to a younger person, pretends to grab his/her nose with two fingers, puts a thumb through the two fingers, and tells the little person "got your nose". The little one reacts for a moment, usually laughs after the adult releases the fingers, and for a short moment thinks this is a cool thing.
Always one to observe behaviors and wonder how it all fits into things, I saw this parent/child game happen many times on my visits to Universal Studios and the Magic Kingdom this past weekend. It was usually some parent who didn't anticipate a 45 minute wait to see Winnie the Pooh or ride Dumbo. The child was antsy in the stroller and dad tried to keep the youngster occupied by simple games, rarely successful for more than 20 seconds. Once in a great while, the child would respond in kind to the adult by doing the same with the adult pretending to be shocked at the loss of her/his nose.
Here is what is really cool about the whole thing. The amusement parks in Orlando are microcosms for the world. I can't tell you how many languages I heard in the days we were there. All of us waiting to ride something that would stretch our imaginations or put us on the edge of fear ( OK not the Jaws ride), all of us patiently in line for that great 10 minute escape.
The really remarkable thing on so many levels was that parents of all shapes, ages, genders all had one thing at the fore; they wanted their kids to have a great family memory. For many of us, it started with "got your nose". I can't tell you how many times in those days of visiting I saw "got your nose". I marveled at its universality; it knew no ethnicity. Pacific Islander parents go the nose of their children as did African parents as did Hispanic parents. There were so many noses lost the days at the park that had it been for real we would have generation of kids looking like Voldemort.
So I thought what a marvelous revelation. No matter where you are from, who you are, what you speak or look like, you are part of the silliness that is common to all of us. In the wake of the Japanese Tsunami, the trouble in the Northern Africa, the concerns for issues of the economy in our country, we are all united in a wonderful child's game that made us for a moment giggle and laugh. How cool is that?
Don't look now, got your nose!
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Keith
Always one to observe behaviors and wonder how it all fits into things, I saw this parent/child game happen many times on my visits to Universal Studios and the Magic Kingdom this past weekend. It was usually some parent who didn't anticipate a 45 minute wait to see Winnie the Pooh or ride Dumbo. The child was antsy in the stroller and dad tried to keep the youngster occupied by simple games, rarely successful for more than 20 seconds. Once in a great while, the child would respond in kind to the adult by doing the same with the adult pretending to be shocked at the loss of her/his nose.
Here is what is really cool about the whole thing. The amusement parks in Orlando are microcosms for the world. I can't tell you how many languages I heard in the days we were there. All of us waiting to ride something that would stretch our imaginations or put us on the edge of fear ( OK not the Jaws ride), all of us patiently in line for that great 10 minute escape.
The really remarkable thing on so many levels was that parents of all shapes, ages, genders all had one thing at the fore; they wanted their kids to have a great family memory. For many of us, it started with "got your nose". I can't tell you how many times in those days of visiting I saw "got your nose". I marveled at its universality; it knew no ethnicity. Pacific Islander parents go the nose of their children as did African parents as did Hispanic parents. There were so many noses lost the days at the park that had it been for real we would have generation of kids looking like Voldemort.
So I thought what a marvelous revelation. No matter where you are from, who you are, what you speak or look like, you are part of the silliness that is common to all of us. In the wake of the Japanese Tsunami, the trouble in the Northern Africa, the concerns for issues of the economy in our country, we are all united in a wonderful child's game that made us for a moment giggle and laugh. How cool is that?
Don't look now, got your nose!
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Keith
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
If You Lie With Dogs...
I have had dogs my entire life. If they weren’t living with me, I was close to friends and family that had them, or my own immediate family had dogs as pets. They were all shapes and sizes, old, young, large, and of course, the yippee small ones. It dawned on me the other morning when I get up and my younger dog had nestled himself into a block of lead against my leg that dogs really bring so many of life’s lessons to you. You have to listen of course.
We got Leo after Zach graduated from high school for many reasons. One reason we looked for another was that our older dog Susie had been with Samson most of her life. When he was no longer around, we thought it would be nice for her to have another companion during the long days when no one is there. Another was the concern that Dad would be lonely without the guys around the house. I think that was and still is probably true. I love my sons, and they have enriched my life more than I can possibly write about. I looked and looked in the paper, on line, at the animal shelter websites, and about any other place I could find. I decided I wanted a dog like Susie, our schnauzer-poo, because her temperament is amazing, she sheds little, and is a smart dog. After several attempts, we stumbled upon Leo who was an Iowan farm flood survivor, only 7 weeks old, and very, very small. Zach thought the name Leonidas ( leader of the 300 doomed Spartans) would be fit for a little puppy that had survived so much already.
Enough of the history; here is what I know about what I have learned from my dogs. Samson was our first dog with the boys. A border collie black lab cross, Sam taught me grace in old age. His last few years of life were difficult for him and for us as well as we had to make decisions about the quality of his life. Sam was gentle in the face of pain. He would sleep in the same spot and wake up and wag his tail no matter what. When we made the decision to put Sam asleep, it truly was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. Having buried both of my parents, losing my first dog was heart wrenching. The afternoon when we returned home, the day was full of Sam stories. A fitting tribute to a great dog. The lessons: when you leave, make sure people speak well of you and love is patient.
Susie has always been of great temperament. Even as she gets older and more and more the velvet tube (as she is fondly called after grooming), she hears the garage door go up, immediately senses Louise is home, barks at the top of here lungs, and wags the tail so vigorously that anything close could be battered! She adapted quickly to Leo invading her space and comfortably spars with him over the stuffed toys Rick brings home every now and then. No longer able to jump up on our bed, she has her spot in the hall, back to the wall where she guards all three bedrooms in our house. She has this great floppy eared terrier look that instantly can cheer up the gloomiest of days. As she gets older, we all pay attention to the little changes in her knowing that she has blessed our days with her loyalty and unflinching love. The lesson: love bears, believes, hopes, and endures all things.
From the moment we brought Leo home, he has curled up and nestled against any body that is available. Louise contends that he was weaned too soon and needs that reassurance that his siblings in the litter provided. Every morning when I wake up, Leo is nestled close to me, not matter how many times I may have shoved him aside in the middle of the night; he is faithfully there. From the times when he was a puppy, there has been no other dog that can melt a heart like Leo. He knows how to pose for the camera, has a playfully mischievous look, and can make your day a whole lot better with a simple tilt of his head. He stands guard at the window watching the house like a sentry with a shrill bark. He can take Susie from a complacent older dog to a dog with vigor and gusto by simply grabbing the toy she has, tugging it and running away with it. He has added years to many of us. The lesson: love is not arrogant but perserveres.
The unique thing about dogs is they do all this without being taught to do it. They are inherently loyal, energetic, emotionally manipulative, and undyingly loving. In Marley and Me, John Grogan writes, “A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if you’re rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?”
WOOF
Keith
We got Leo after Zach graduated from high school for many reasons. One reason we looked for another was that our older dog Susie had been with Samson most of her life. When he was no longer around, we thought it would be nice for her to have another companion during the long days when no one is there. Another was the concern that Dad would be lonely without the guys around the house. I think that was and still is probably true. I love my sons, and they have enriched my life more than I can possibly write about. I looked and looked in the paper, on line, at the animal shelter websites, and about any other place I could find. I decided I wanted a dog like Susie, our schnauzer-poo, because her temperament is amazing, she sheds little, and is a smart dog. After several attempts, we stumbled upon Leo who was an Iowan farm flood survivor, only 7 weeks old, and very, very small. Zach thought the name Leonidas ( leader of the 300 doomed Spartans) would be fit for a little puppy that had survived so much already.
Enough of the history; here is what I know about what I have learned from my dogs. Samson was our first dog with the boys. A border collie black lab cross, Sam taught me grace in old age. His last few years of life were difficult for him and for us as well as we had to make decisions about the quality of his life. Sam was gentle in the face of pain. He would sleep in the same spot and wake up and wag his tail no matter what. When we made the decision to put Sam asleep, it truly was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. Having buried both of my parents, losing my first dog was heart wrenching. The afternoon when we returned home, the day was full of Sam stories. A fitting tribute to a great dog. The lessons: when you leave, make sure people speak well of you and love is patient.
Susie has always been of great temperament. Even as she gets older and more and more the velvet tube (as she is fondly called after grooming), she hears the garage door go up, immediately senses Louise is home, barks at the top of here lungs, and wags the tail so vigorously that anything close could be battered! She adapted quickly to Leo invading her space and comfortably spars with him over the stuffed toys Rick brings home every now and then. No longer able to jump up on our bed, she has her spot in the hall, back to the wall where she guards all three bedrooms in our house. She has this great floppy eared terrier look that instantly can cheer up the gloomiest of days. As she gets older, we all pay attention to the little changes in her knowing that she has blessed our days with her loyalty and unflinching love. The lesson: love bears, believes, hopes, and endures all things.
From the moment we brought Leo home, he has curled up and nestled against any body that is available. Louise contends that he was weaned too soon and needs that reassurance that his siblings in the litter provided. Every morning when I wake up, Leo is nestled close to me, not matter how many times I may have shoved him aside in the middle of the night; he is faithfully there. From the times when he was a puppy, there has been no other dog that can melt a heart like Leo. He knows how to pose for the camera, has a playfully mischievous look, and can make your day a whole lot better with a simple tilt of his head. He stands guard at the window watching the house like a sentry with a shrill bark. He can take Susie from a complacent older dog to a dog with vigor and gusto by simply grabbing the toy she has, tugging it and running away with it. He has added years to many of us. The lesson: love is not arrogant but perserveres.
The unique thing about dogs is they do all this without being taught to do it. They are inherently loyal, energetic, emotionally manipulative, and undyingly loving. In Marley and Me, John Grogan writes, “A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if you’re rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?”
WOOF
Keith
Monday, February 28, 2011
"What's guh-guh-guh-guh—...what's happening?
Only the immortal words of Porky pig could put it so well. For most of my life, movies have provided a great escape. I will be the first to admit, while I enjoy a wonderfully well-put together classic film, I am a sucker for a Transformers or a Tron. I am looking forward with great anticipation this summer to Thor and Captain America. While the movies have provided an escape for me, once in a very great while, a film comes along that strikes a nerve and really touches my soul. For me this year, The King’s Speech was that film.
The life struggles that King George VI encountered because of his stuttering are so well played and so close to home that the film for me was a kind of cinematherapy.
I was a stutterer in grade school, and that stuttering and “stammering “ as Sister Mary Margaret called it needed to stop. If you see this marvelous film, you see the impact of stuttering on George’s life. He was content to marry, be in the King’s Navy, and raise his girls all in the shadow of his father and older brother. Quite a shy man, the thrust in the limelight at the abdication of his brother threw him into a position he was not emotionally prepared to enter. The film beautifully shows the brotherhood of George and his unorthodox speech instructor.
As I say to my students, enough plot; get to the discussion. Hi, I’m Keith and I stutter. While this is not a testimony for my stuttering, which I still do upon stressful situations, it is a chance to talk about the importance of the film, and what I can do to help those millions of people who stutter or stammer. Perhaps it’s unique that I ended up being a theatre speech major with my stutter. It really was more pronounced in elementary school where I would stutter, and of course, kids would tease. It wasn’t long that I found one of my best adolescent friends Tom, who stuttered and stammered worse than I did. Sister told me that my brain thinks too fast. That you can’t physically keep up with all the thoughts that you have to say so you stutter because of an intellectual “clog”.
The impact of the time of my life is dramatic. Combine the stuttering with the need to be the center of attention for others reasons provided quite a conundrum. I was taught to make a “square in the air” with my forefinger making the corner of the square a syllable of a word or a single syllable word. The concentration of making the square would slow the brain down and get me to enunciate every syllable of the word, slowing me down to make my speech regular. It was amazing how successful this technique was. I have no clue if Sister Mary Margaret was trained or if she just knew what to do; whatever that reason, it worked.
I still have coping skills for my stuttering in my adult life. It doesn’t happen too much anymore, but my wife jokingly calls it going into my “stage voice”. Yup, that would be one way. Another way I have learned to deal with this is by singing. Singing has set beat pattern and rhythm that keeps you from “ going too fast”.
King George puts it this way in the film:
Lionel Logue: What was your earliest memory?
King George VI: I'm not... -here to discuss... -personal matters.
Lionel Logue: Why are you here then?
King George VI: Because I bloody well stammer!
Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-... That's all, folks
Keith
The life struggles that King George VI encountered because of his stuttering are so well played and so close to home that the film for me was a kind of cinematherapy.
I was a stutterer in grade school, and that stuttering and “stammering “ as Sister Mary Margaret called it needed to stop. If you see this marvelous film, you see the impact of stuttering on George’s life. He was content to marry, be in the King’s Navy, and raise his girls all in the shadow of his father and older brother. Quite a shy man, the thrust in the limelight at the abdication of his brother threw him into a position he was not emotionally prepared to enter. The film beautifully shows the brotherhood of George and his unorthodox speech instructor.
As I say to my students, enough plot; get to the discussion. Hi, I’m Keith and I stutter. While this is not a testimony for my stuttering, which I still do upon stressful situations, it is a chance to talk about the importance of the film, and what I can do to help those millions of people who stutter or stammer. Perhaps it’s unique that I ended up being a theatre speech major with my stutter. It really was more pronounced in elementary school where I would stutter, and of course, kids would tease. It wasn’t long that I found one of my best adolescent friends Tom, who stuttered and stammered worse than I did. Sister told me that my brain thinks too fast. That you can’t physically keep up with all the thoughts that you have to say so you stutter because of an intellectual “clog”.
The impact of the time of my life is dramatic. Combine the stuttering with the need to be the center of attention for others reasons provided quite a conundrum. I was taught to make a “square in the air” with my forefinger making the corner of the square a syllable of a word or a single syllable word. The concentration of making the square would slow the brain down and get me to enunciate every syllable of the word, slowing me down to make my speech regular. It was amazing how successful this technique was. I have no clue if Sister Mary Margaret was trained or if she just knew what to do; whatever that reason, it worked.
I still have coping skills for my stuttering in my adult life. It doesn’t happen too much anymore, but my wife jokingly calls it going into my “stage voice”. Yup, that would be one way. Another way I have learned to deal with this is by singing. Singing has set beat pattern and rhythm that keeps you from “ going too fast”.
King George puts it this way in the film:
Lionel Logue: What was your earliest memory?
King George VI: I'm not... -here to discuss... -personal matters.
Lionel Logue: Why are you here then?
King George VI: Because I bloody well stammer!
Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-... That's all, folks
Keith
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A Winter's Day....
Ok there is great quote from Father Perrault in Lost Horizon that says, “Look at the world today. Is there anything more pitiful? What madness there is! What blindness! What unintelligent leadership! A scurrying mass of bewildered humanity crashing headlong against each other, compelled by an orgy of greed and brutality. The time must come, my friend, when this orgy will spend itself, when brutality and the lust for power must perish by its own sword. For when that day comes, the world must begin to look for a new life. And it is our hope that they may find it, a way of life based on one simple rule: Be kind.”
One of my all time favorite books and movies (yes, even the dismal 70’s musical version has some merit), Lost Horizon talks about a world where we should all be kind and what the future could be for us. With the crisis over collective bargaining in WI that seems directed at certain groups not for the good of all, the shooting in Tucson not long ago, the turmoil in Egypt, Bahrain, and now Libya, a dissertation about the New World Order is in order. But, not today. Today I am going to talk about how a camera can give you an interesting perspective on life via the viewfinder.
President’s Day 2011 was a snow filled day. While the world swirled all over with conflict and turmoil from Wisconsin to the Middle East to North Minneapolis, the snow swirled here as well. Dropping nearly 15 inches of the white stuff on the land where a spring melt took away at least that much. Snow depth at our house can be measured by how much of St. Francis’ statue is exposed. While the day took me to the Minute Clinic (an amazing idea and one worth its own blog) and Target, I took some time in the late afternoon before making supper to take some pictures with my new SLR.
It’s been a great while since I took pictures for the sake of taking pictures. My older brother is a professional photographer with a great eye and much knowledge and has always said I was blessed with a good eye. On that affirmation (along with a few trips coming up), I bought a new SLR. I still have my old Canon AE1 which probably still takes great pictures. I used to love to just go and take pictures with it; yesterday, I did just that.
Driving back from taking Zach back to college after the Minute Clinic visit, I saw this great view of a street in the town where I live. The trees were landscaped so that they created a border for the street in the neighborhood. With the large snowflakes falling, it was this beautiful peaceful winter scene. I had to get my camera and come back. I did just that and took several. I went farther down the road and experimented with the focus and the depth of field getting several views of the same thing. Something we don’t take enough time to do in our real lives. I shot a stark tree as the branches crept toward the gloaming. I captured three light posts that looked like alien periscopes rising out of the snow-covered park. I went quickly home, downloaded them and sat back and just relaxed in the peacefulness of the pictures. It was sort of cool that way. I took one and played with it and messed with its light and shades, capturing an antique look in the same picture. It’s been a really long time since I enjoyed just doing this electronic art. My friends, Mara and Kevin know about pictures and capturing everything. My friend, Lisa who took a picture every day and launched them on facebook knows the way, and I, I put up the serene street scene and a picture of my dog (hey every guy has to have a dog).
Finding peaceful diversions to relax is a script for the busy world. Like Father Perrault, in my viewfinder, I can find that Shangri-La he is talking about and keep an archive of things for my future about my past. “So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time. Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth it was worth all the while”
Smile! Click!
Keith
One of my all time favorite books and movies (yes, even the dismal 70’s musical version has some merit), Lost Horizon talks about a world where we should all be kind and what the future could be for us. With the crisis over collective bargaining in WI that seems directed at certain groups not for the good of all, the shooting in Tucson not long ago, the turmoil in Egypt, Bahrain, and now Libya, a dissertation about the New World Order is in order. But, not today. Today I am going to talk about how a camera can give you an interesting perspective on life via the viewfinder.
President’s Day 2011 was a snow filled day. While the world swirled all over with conflict and turmoil from Wisconsin to the Middle East to North Minneapolis, the snow swirled here as well. Dropping nearly 15 inches of the white stuff on the land where a spring melt took away at least that much. Snow depth at our house can be measured by how much of St. Francis’ statue is exposed. While the day took me to the Minute Clinic (an amazing idea and one worth its own blog) and Target, I took some time in the late afternoon before making supper to take some pictures with my new SLR.
It’s been a great while since I took pictures for the sake of taking pictures. My older brother is a professional photographer with a great eye and much knowledge and has always said I was blessed with a good eye. On that affirmation (along with a few trips coming up), I bought a new SLR. I still have my old Canon AE1 which probably still takes great pictures. I used to love to just go and take pictures with it; yesterday, I did just that.
Driving back from taking Zach back to college after the Minute Clinic visit, I saw this great view of a street in the town where I live. The trees were landscaped so that they created a border for the street in the neighborhood. With the large snowflakes falling, it was this beautiful peaceful winter scene. I had to get my camera and come back. I did just that and took several. I went farther down the road and experimented with the focus and the depth of field getting several views of the same thing. Something we don’t take enough time to do in our real lives. I shot a stark tree as the branches crept toward the gloaming. I captured three light posts that looked like alien periscopes rising out of the snow-covered park. I went quickly home, downloaded them and sat back and just relaxed in the peacefulness of the pictures. It was sort of cool that way. I took one and played with it and messed with its light and shades, capturing an antique look in the same picture. It’s been a really long time since I enjoyed just doing this electronic art. My friends, Mara and Kevin know about pictures and capturing everything. My friend, Lisa who took a picture every day and launched them on facebook knows the way, and I, I put up the serene street scene and a picture of my dog (hey every guy has to have a dog).
Finding peaceful diversions to relax is a script for the busy world. Like Father Perrault, in my viewfinder, I can find that Shangri-La he is talking about and keep an archive of things for my future about my past. “So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time. Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth it was worth all the while”
Smile! Click!
Keith
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Times of My Life
I’ve had the time of my life.
After listening to the new Black Eyed Peas song The Time, it made me reminisce about the original song and the memories flooded back of the summer I moved to the cities and “ Nobody puts Baby into a corner”. It made me reflect on how important music continues to be in my life and how there are milestones in our lives that we can “ stamp” with a song. The first chords of All About Soul by Billy Joel draw a gigantic smile to my face not just for memory but because it’s one of my all time favorite songs.
A while back I posted on Facebook asking people to list their favorite Christmas songs. The radio stations had just gone 24/7 in October with Christmas music, and I thought if I have to hear Feliz Navidad one more time, I would have to commit Hari Kari. Putting the positive spin on the issue, I asked people to list the Christmas music that they could hear over and over again. My number one choice was The First Noel. It has always been and continues to be my favorite of Christmas songs. As a child I was fascinated with the Shepherd part of the Nativity. All these smelly, dirty sheep farmers were in the inner circle. It certainly makes more sense to me today.
The joy of listening to the oldies station is that it becomes your passport to the timeline of your life. I once remember a radio station whose logo was “ the Music of Your Life” and it was. How did they know I secretly jammed to Crocodile Rock when I was 7th grade, or that Jive Talking drove me to college. Carrying my Rufus albums and Marvin Gaye records to high school parties where no one had heard Mercy, Mercy Me or Sweet Thing let alone even know what R and B was
My life was lived according to American Top 40. I was there when Michael and the brothers hit the chart, when Mary McGregor recorded music as a folk singer on Motown, the premiere R and B recording studio. Klaatu and Carpenters introduced me to Aliens in Calling Occupants and of course the monumental impact of the Beatles A Day in the Life.
College brought me to the bar with Disco and my divas Donna Summer, Cher (her third of five recording careers), Gloria Gaynor and one of my all time favorite songs, I’m Doin Fine Now by NYC. U2 got me through my first years of teaching along with the Boss and REO. Jokingly, I suggested we name our first child (gender unknown) Kyrie after a Mr. Mister song popular at his birth. Lucky for him, his mother was not to be swayed by pop radio. The stories go on for at least all of the years I have lived.
Please note that not every song has the great AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH moment attached to it like Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl). I turn anything off that is by the Eagles and Nickelback. I just don’t have the time to waste on those songs. Trust me, there are others.
Thanks to the radio and recorded music, my life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue- thank you Carol King for the great words. You and James have been there the whole time. As I slowly go to Carolina in my Mind, I can bless my 100 years of Wanna Be Startin Something . I am truly a Juke Box Hero who has had The Time of My Life.
You Spin Me Right Round.
Keith
After listening to the new Black Eyed Peas song The Time, it made me reminisce about the original song and the memories flooded back of the summer I moved to the cities and “ Nobody puts Baby into a corner”. It made me reflect on how important music continues to be in my life and how there are milestones in our lives that we can “ stamp” with a song. The first chords of All About Soul by Billy Joel draw a gigantic smile to my face not just for memory but because it’s one of my all time favorite songs.
A while back I posted on Facebook asking people to list their favorite Christmas songs. The radio stations had just gone 24/7 in October with Christmas music, and I thought if I have to hear Feliz Navidad one more time, I would have to commit Hari Kari. Putting the positive spin on the issue, I asked people to list the Christmas music that they could hear over and over again. My number one choice was The First Noel. It has always been and continues to be my favorite of Christmas songs. As a child I was fascinated with the Shepherd part of the Nativity. All these smelly, dirty sheep farmers were in the inner circle. It certainly makes more sense to me today.
The joy of listening to the oldies station is that it becomes your passport to the timeline of your life. I once remember a radio station whose logo was “ the Music of Your Life” and it was. How did they know I secretly jammed to Crocodile Rock when I was 7th grade, or that Jive Talking drove me to college. Carrying my Rufus albums and Marvin Gaye records to high school parties where no one had heard Mercy, Mercy Me or Sweet Thing let alone even know what R and B was
My life was lived according to American Top 40. I was there when Michael and the brothers hit the chart, when Mary McGregor recorded music as a folk singer on Motown, the premiere R and B recording studio. Klaatu and Carpenters introduced me to Aliens in Calling Occupants and of course the monumental impact of the Beatles A Day in the Life.
College brought me to the bar with Disco and my divas Donna Summer, Cher (her third of five recording careers), Gloria Gaynor and one of my all time favorite songs, I’m Doin Fine Now by NYC. U2 got me through my first years of teaching along with the Boss and REO. Jokingly, I suggested we name our first child (gender unknown) Kyrie after a Mr. Mister song popular at his birth. Lucky for him, his mother was not to be swayed by pop radio. The stories go on for at least all of the years I have lived.
Please note that not every song has the great AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH moment attached to it like Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl). I turn anything off that is by the Eagles and Nickelback. I just don’t have the time to waste on those songs. Trust me, there are others.
Thanks to the radio and recorded music, my life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue- thank you Carol King for the great words. You and James have been there the whole time. As I slowly go to Carolina in my Mind, I can bless my 100 years of Wanna Be Startin Something . I am truly a Juke Box Hero who has had The Time of My Life.
You Spin Me Right Round.
Keith
Monday, February 7, 2011
A Bowl of Lucky Charms
Some of you know this and others not yet because I felt if I let the cat out of the bag, I would somehow jinx the success of my venture. I have been losing weight since last May 17. It started as a lark with a desire to have some vegetables in my lunch. From there it sprang into a full fledged attempt. To this date, I have lost 41.7 pounds. While that is cool, more amazingly cool is the fact that I am not using insulin in the mornings, and I have diminished my evening use by half. That in itself would be great, but even more is the fact that I am following through.
While it looks like I am probably going to write about that, wrongo! I am going to write about the hope that springs forth in times of need. The reference to the bowl of Lucky Charms is this: while I deprived myself of many of my favorite things during the last eight months, I decided to give myself one of my favorite all time foods, Lucky Charms cereal. Sunday night after a long day of catching up from my speech trip to Duluth, I poured myself a heaping bowl of Lucky Charms, added just the right amount of milk to be colored by the marshmallows, and ate away. It was truly magically delicious.
While all that seems really silly, eating the bowl of cereal was really rooted in many of the things I noticed last weekend at the speech meet in Duluth, which can easily be summed up in "hope springs eternal". I moved forward with eating the beloved cereal because hope says that one foray into the world of yellow moons and green clovers was not going to halt the direction I had been traveling for so many months. That realization came after hearing so many kids who didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of breaking finals saying, " I'm gonna final today."
For those you not privy to the nomenclature of speech, beyond taking first, breaking finals is about as good as it gets. It puts you in the elite group; the group of the best. They believed that even though the odds were insurmountable, they were going to final! Next week, the same will be heard echoing through other hallways as the kids make their way to their rounds, "I'm gonna final this week." even though they didn't come close the weekend before.
Hope springs eternal. What a valuable lesson for us all. In those times that try us, hope springs eternal. When we are not sure what we're doing, hope drives us on to the right path. When we've run out of hope, hope like a phoenix rises to carry us through.
Tonight as I finish my second bowl of Lucky Charms, feeling quite good about the whole thing. I can't help but buoyed up that message.
On another note, Henry Oertelt died last week. A notable Holocaust survivor, Henry's book, An Unbroken Chain, has been a part of my curriculum for many years. Via his podcast on iTunes and his well written book describing his survival of concentration camp life, many of my students learned that one thing from Henry and his ordeal, hope springs eternal that the world will NEVER know the atrocities of the Third Reich ever again. Rest in peace Henry!
Over and out.
Keith
While all that seems really silly, eating the bowl of cereal was really rooted in many of the things I noticed last weekend at the speech meet in Duluth, which can easily be summed up in "hope springs eternal". I moved forward with eating the beloved cereal because hope says that one foray into the world of yellow moons and green clovers was not going to halt the direction I had been traveling for so many months. That realization came after hearing so many kids who didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of breaking finals saying, " I'm gonna final today."
For those you not privy to the nomenclature of speech, beyond taking first, breaking finals is about as good as it gets. It puts you in the elite group; the group of the best. They believed that even though the odds were insurmountable, they were going to final! Next week, the same will be heard echoing through other hallways as the kids make their way to their rounds, "I'm gonna final this week." even though they didn't come close the weekend before.
Hope springs eternal. What a valuable lesson for us all. In those times that try us, hope springs eternal. When we are not sure what we're doing, hope drives us on to the right path. When we've run out of hope, hope like a phoenix rises to carry us through.
Tonight as I finish my second bowl of Lucky Charms, feeling quite good about the whole thing. I can't help but buoyed up that message.
On another note, Henry Oertelt died last week. A notable Holocaust survivor, Henry's book, An Unbroken Chain, has been a part of my curriculum for many years. Via his podcast on iTunes and his well written book describing his survival of concentration camp life, many of my students learned that one thing from Henry and his ordeal, hope springs eternal that the world will NEVER know the atrocities of the Third Reich ever again. Rest in peace Henry!
Over and out.
Keith
Sunday, January 30, 2011
In the Bleak Midwinter
Tomorrow the reports of more snow have infiltrated the airwaves. It's the mid of winter, and while the days seem to be getting longer, the snow remains. More tomorrow. The winter doldrums have set in. A rather disheartening week at school with a lot of my students not ready for their presentations. While choosing a poet to discuss is not the most exciting area of literature studies for many students, there IS always the quirky lifestyles of Poe and Ginsberg, the dark suicidal days of Sexton and Dickensen, the inspiration of Kipling and the Brownings to get them through. I sometimes forget how rich a good poem is whether it comes from the dark minds of Eminem or Poe or of flowing words like Tupac, Frost or Sandburg, the words are so powerful, so awesome (using the real word here not the contemporary connotation of it). Through gentle words Frost takes us on a journey through a wood or the importance of swinging on birch trees. "Nothing gold can stay."
Always in the bleak midwinter, we start our musical at church. We are auditioning for Brigadoon, and it's amazing what talent finds it way to be involved in our rag tag productions. As I read the script again and again trying to find the director's muse, it's great fun to imagine how it will all play out, how getting the right people in the right spot at the right time will happen. I am always tentatively saying to myself' "You putz, why did you do this again? Wouldn't it be nice to be without play rehearsals for ONE spring?" I can't do it- there is something the drives that feeling to " Hey Kids, let's put on a show!" Brigadoon- be there this April.
Christmas finally came down today at my house- once again a sign of the bleak midwinter. The time of brightly colored lights and festive decorations gets packed away for another year. My wife works very hard to make the house incredibly festive for the Christmas season- she truly makes Christmas at our house. From the moment you walk in and through the house, the bathroom, the bedrooms, Christmas is everywhere. It's an amazing transformation, and it's all her creation, and it's all her work that gets repacked into the 20+ boxes of Christmas decorations and tradition. I miss all the lights already!
In the bleak winter, my uncle passed away three years ago today. I indulged myself last week, but this week, I am wallowing in the blessings of that man's life. His wife, my Aunt Diana, is hilarious. I have the greatest conversations with her. They make me laugh (a lot) and cry. I understand why he loved her all those years. I need to call her more. It gave me my cousin, Michelle, who is equally amazing! She is bright, energetic, loving, and also as funny as her mom. How rich my life is because of her. I am told that that there is a picture of her dad and me in 1968, anxious to see it! His life gave me heritage- who I am and who I will always be! His influence made a huge impact on me- I am sure in heaven he is barking out something that I needs to get done with the wink of his eye and his cocked up turned smile.
I went to this unique worship service again on Saturday night at Oak Hill Baptist called The Point- truly a rock and roll spiritual experience Sat. night Christian rock concert with a sermon and simple honesty. While I miss absolution and communion, I was renewed in the service. Pr. Jeremiah Rice is a one of those honest ministers who lays things on the table without wallowing in pretense. Thanks Pastor- was awesome.
Always in the bleak midwinter, we start our musical at church. We are auditioning for Brigadoon, and it's amazing what talent finds it way to be involved in our rag tag productions. As I read the script again and again trying to find the director's muse, it's great fun to imagine how it will all play out, how getting the right people in the right spot at the right time will happen. I am always tentatively saying to myself' "You putz, why did you do this again? Wouldn't it be nice to be without play rehearsals for ONE spring?" I can't do it- there is something the drives that feeling to " Hey Kids, let's put on a show!" Brigadoon- be there this April.
Christmas finally came down today at my house- once again a sign of the bleak midwinter. The time of brightly colored lights and festive decorations gets packed away for another year. My wife works very hard to make the house incredibly festive for the Christmas season- she truly makes Christmas at our house. From the moment you walk in and through the house, the bathroom, the bedrooms, Christmas is everywhere. It's an amazing transformation, and it's all her creation, and it's all her work that gets repacked into the 20+ boxes of Christmas decorations and tradition. I miss all the lights already!
In the bleak winter, my uncle passed away three years ago today. I indulged myself last week, but this week, I am wallowing in the blessings of that man's life. His wife, my Aunt Diana, is hilarious. I have the greatest conversations with her. They make me laugh (a lot) and cry. I understand why he loved her all those years. I need to call her more. It gave me my cousin, Michelle, who is equally amazing! She is bright, energetic, loving, and also as funny as her mom. How rich my life is because of her. I am told that that there is a picture of her dad and me in 1968, anxious to see it! His life gave me heritage- who I am and who I will always be! His influence made a huge impact on me- I am sure in heaven he is barking out something that I needs to get done with the wink of his eye and his cocked up turned smile.
I went to this unique worship service again on Saturday night at Oak Hill Baptist called The Point- truly a rock and roll spiritual experience Sat. night Christian rock concert with a sermon and simple honesty. While I miss absolution and communion, I was renewed in the service. Pr. Jeremiah Rice is a one of those honest ministers who lays things on the table without wallowing in pretense. Thanks Pastor- was awesome.
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
Christina Rossetti
Over and Out
Keith
Sunday, January 23, 2011
My Uncle Rich
Three years ago this week, I lost someone who was as influential as anyone in my life. My uncle passed away after an incredibly valiant fight against leukemia. His first diagnosis didn't offer much hope, but we as a family locked arms and decided that we would help my uncle fight this dastardly illness. My uncle lived a colorful life, every day a new experience sometimes walking on the edge of a razor blade and sometimes nestled into a blanket falling asleep on the couch with his dog curled up with him a can of Busch on the end table.
My Uncle Rich was the last son of my grandmother Rose, A hardened woman from tough immigrant stock, she raised my uncle and his brother and sister without the help of their father. My grandfather died of alcoholism when Rich was an infant. As the story goes, he died during DT's while holding his baby, my uncle. Being a last child and knowing that spoiling a last child seems to be a birthright, my uncle had it easier than his sisters, my mom and my aunt. His older brother also had life pretty difficult. My grandmother worked very early mornings in a bakery in a tough part of East St. Louis to make ends meet and keep the small two bedroom house she owned near Jones' Park. That same house that Rich and my Aunt Diana would move into and where my cousin Michelle was born.
Making sure that all of her children had a strong Catholic upbringing was very important to my Grandma Rose. The kids went to Catholic School and on to Catholic HS where my uncle tried every way possible to get out. Eventually leaving school to join the service, he did have his share of "stories of youth" that I so loved to hear him tell.
I was the youngest of 4 kids in a blended family. My sister and brothers were all about my uncle's age. It was a natural fit for Rich and I to be close. I shadowed my young uncle all the time. His sister who as a young woman took care of him and my family would make sure that we were fed and that we didn't leave anything on the table. She knew the difficult time of growing up with a single working parent. Rich would always find a way to distract my aunt so I could ditch a plate of beef liver or some strange concoction that Rosalie would make for us. She would return and the plate would be cleaned with her believing that I ate all the hideous food at the table. My uncle would wink at me behind her back and later would give me a cookie or something sweet knowing I would be hungry from not eating supper.
My uncle and his friend George were inseparable. Even to his death, George was there. A lanky kid, George was the natural sidekick to my handsome uncle with his bright eyes and winning smile. Neither minded if " Keithy" would come along on various jaunts and escapades. He once said that girls thought the four year old ( me) was cute, and they would want to meet this young man who loyally looked after his nephew. A favorite story of mine was when I four, I was standing between my uncle and George in the front seat of my grandmother's car. I said, " Gee Uncle Richie you drive good." Moments later, he ran into a tree and I quickly said, " Gee Uncle Richie, you' drive bad." Certainly corny at best, but was a story I heard so many times in my life as he and I reminisced.
Growing up with my father was a difficult time. My father drank way too much and there was often anger and fighting in my house. I wanted to live with my uncle. He was smart to say, you spend school years there and you can come spend time with me in the summer. Little did his new wife know that she would have this "other child" in her life as well as the one she was soon to deliver.
The summers I spent at my Uncle's house were full of life, and I was in heaven. He was a charming man, funny, loving, self righteous, devoted to his causes believing that justice was only seen through his eyes. He worked damned hard during his weeks finishing concrete highways and often drank too much when he was home. He was as loyal as you would want and would help anyone with anything that was asked of him.
The summer I spent babysitting my cousin Michelle was a summer that made a lifetime. In a small house in Cahokia, Illinois haunted by the family that was murdered years before and protected by the spirit of my Uncle Sonny ( My Mom and Rich's brother who died many years before), I spent part of my 19th summer after college. My cousin Phil and I would drive ride with Michelle standing the way my uncle and George did with me. We would coerce her to say dirty things and repeat them to adults. My aunt would shake her head, my uncle trying hard to discipline us found it hard to do through the laugher.
As my cousin grew, we continued to grow closer and closer. To this day, she feels more like a little sister than a cousin. My uncle still held this special place in my heart and head. The most important events in my life have been shared with my uncle. As I grew older and more involved in my own life, our time spent was less and less. Upon his 40th birthday, I surprised him at his party at St. Albert's. I arrived and what a joy to see a tear in his eye as he was so excited to see me as well.
Upon the news of my uncle's illness, we were convinced he could beat this. He survived a disastrous car accident in Europe in the 60's, a dangerous blow to the face by another Richard ( both his name and a euphemism), and various incidents as a union man that could have led to dangerous situations. We knew he could over come this as well. My cousin and I were on the phone constantly with updates. She did all kinds of research learning about this kind of cancer and how it manifests and how is grows. I would call my uncle when ever there was the chance to say keep fighting and I love you, Uncle Rich. It felt like I couldn't say it enough given the probable outcomes of aggressive cancers. He fought hard. He gave it everything. He didn't want to, he was scared and sometimes he felt death was so much easier than the fight.
My family had a wonderful opportunity to spend a week with him the summer before he died. My sons adored their Uncle Rich as much as their Dad adored him. My wife took to him the first time they met. That summer, my sons were grown men, and we got spend some relaxing time with him and my aunt. They remembered the first fish they caught off his dock behind his house and how he would make them laugh and try to be stern as well. He and they laughed as they watched some trivia game show in the living room. He was spending time on the computer and was talking about trips and fishing, and it was an incredible moment!
The news came from Michelle on cold somber day in late January three years ago. We knew that he wouldn't survive even after marrow transplants given by his sister, by the continued search for new avenues of treatment by his doctors, and by the constant prayers of his family and close friends. That day is like a memory caught in a glass bubble. I remember little of what happened other than a part of me died that day as well. The fight had been valiant and long, and in the end, my uncle passed from this life peacefully. I wish I had been there. Those are moments that mark our lives, He had given so much to me in my life often without even knowing that he had given.
My Uncle Rich bought me this Coca Cola Santa when I was four. He was a check out boy at a neighborhood grocery store. Every Christmas, Santa comes out and the memories flood back.
Today, this has been an indulgence for me. I think about him all the time. I feel his presence all the time, his pride for me, his pushing and prodding, his gladness in my relationship to my cousin and her family, and his love.
Over and out
Keith
Monday, January 17, 2011
Raising Tyler!
I have always waited for the muse. Sometimes, she lights on my head with great regularity- the first week of the new year she was visiting with great insistence. Since then, she has taken the Carlson Wagonlit charters anywhere but here.
Raising Tyler, you might think, is an interesting title. It comes from a conversation I had with Tyler today about his pneumonia, school, and what he should do. It made me think about how important and how blessed is the network of the lives of the people we touch. Throughout the course of my time (ages though it seems), I have been able to connect to the lives of so many young people whose lives I hope are richer for knowing me. Mine certainly is from knowing them.
I kind of think, sometimes at my age, you get permission to be a dad to whomever you want. Tyler started in my classroom as an observer, then student teacher, and has grown to be a tenured teacher in my school. Tony, this year's student, followed some of that track. I look at the things they have both done with a certain paternal pride, knowing full well they both have active dads in their lives. Someday, I hope they get to know the joy those experiences bring. Technology allowed me to keep up with these new teachers and stay connected.
I used to think the adage " it takes a village to raise a child" was corny and trite. I don't believe that now. Some much of my "family" is more than just the immediate sons I raised (and am extremely proud of) and my wife. I shared with you the story of two of the several student teachers with which I have shared my classroom. I approach with great pride when my speech kids get up and stand before strangers opening themselves to criticism every weekend. WOW! That is amazing. My coaching staff as well; they make me proud to see them give themselves to students. They understand the buyback.
I know who is to blame for this great "tribal" father role. Bob and Jay- sounds a lot like a comedy team and sometimes they are. I learned that although grown, there is room in everyone's life for people to care about them. They did, they do, and hope they will continue to care about me in the way I care for those young staff who work so hard. You guys know who you are- constant working to make school a great place for kids of all backgrounds and abilities. People in this community I live in who work hard for kids, all kids to be the best they can be in spite sometimes of insurmountable odds.
Oh yeah, one last truism- Father knows best!
Over and out.
Keith
Raising Tyler, you might think, is an interesting title. It comes from a conversation I had with Tyler today about his pneumonia, school, and what he should do. It made me think about how important and how blessed is the network of the lives of the people we touch. Throughout the course of my time (ages though it seems), I have been able to connect to the lives of so many young people whose lives I hope are richer for knowing me. Mine certainly is from knowing them.
I kind of think, sometimes at my age, you get permission to be a dad to whomever you want. Tyler started in my classroom as an observer, then student teacher, and has grown to be a tenured teacher in my school. Tony, this year's student, followed some of that track. I look at the things they have both done with a certain paternal pride, knowing full well they both have active dads in their lives. Someday, I hope they get to know the joy those experiences bring. Technology allowed me to keep up with these new teachers and stay connected.
I used to think the adage " it takes a village to raise a child" was corny and trite. I don't believe that now. Some much of my "family" is more than just the immediate sons I raised (and am extremely proud of) and my wife. I shared with you the story of two of the several student teachers with which I have shared my classroom. I approach with great pride when my speech kids get up and stand before strangers opening themselves to criticism every weekend. WOW! That is amazing. My coaching staff as well; they make me proud to see them give themselves to students. They understand the buyback.
I know who is to blame for this great "tribal" father role. Bob and Jay- sounds a lot like a comedy team and sometimes they are. I learned that although grown, there is room in everyone's life for people to care about them. They did, they do, and hope they will continue to care about me in the way I care for those young staff who work so hard. You guys know who you are- constant working to make school a great place for kids of all backgrounds and abilities. People in this community I live in who work hard for kids, all kids to be the best they can be in spite sometimes of insurmountable odds.
Oh yeah, one last truism- Father knows best!
Over and out.
Keith
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Inspiration! Get it and Share it!
Over the past several days, a multitude of ideas have ambled through my head for blog two. Trying to whittle down to just one idea was extraordinarily tough for an old ADD man like myself. Trying to keep things positive and inspiring will be my footprint in this week's footnote.
Being blessed with a career of 30+ years in education, I have a story for any occasion of those students who have passed through the hallowed halls of Mr. Roberts' room. Among the greatest was the lab tech poking my arm for a blood draw reminding me that she was my former student and not a very good one at that. Feeling a little bit vulnerable at the time, I quickly asked, "Did you like me?" "Oh yes, everyone did back then" Reassured, the poke in the arm went smoothly and all was well. Whew.
I keep a mental and physical "Mr. Holland's Opus" container of notes and comments that I have gotten over my years of teaching. The stories are great and too many to relate here in this short format. Suffice it to say, I have been blessed with an amazing career and amazing students over the years. I have witnessed an 8th grade miscreant become a chemical engineer with a new baby. I have seen a creative young man go on to teach English at the college level and write his own science fiction novel. Almost every day, I get to see a young man who struggled in school coach our speech kids with dauntless energy and inspire a whole new group of students every year. Perhaps in the next few years I will get to teach of the son of former student who confused a few lines on stage in a play, left it in tears and hopefully, reassured by me to know that she had done her best. I was very proud of her. Doing your best should be expected and is all you can give.
Who inspires me today? Which of those students will be the next lab tech or chemical engineer to come up to me and say " Do you remember me Mr. Roberts? " The answer will always be, "of course, but can you help me with the name?" I have learned that you never can tell who will leave your room for the high school and move toward great things. I have a young man who told me he wants to play basketball for Ohio State. Doing nothing in the fall, he has become this terrifically respectful student even calling me sir! He doesn't always work his hardest, but he tries. I hope to watch him play ball someday! I have four girls who sat together last year in a " pod" who ALWAYS strive to do the best job they can with this incredible positive attitude- and they will end up somewhere doing the best job they can. I would be remiss not to mention a young lady who would like to imagine she is married to a pop idol who is not only an amazing student but has an energy and a vitality that mixed with her intelligence inspires me to continue to challenge my students, every class period, every day.
I do have peers that inspire me as well. I work with an SLA (you work out the acronym) who is so giving and accepting of ALL kids. I wish I had her ability to do that. Another, after experiencing amazing personal tragedy last year, continues to give her best every day and has this incredible upbeat attitude even in the face of overwhelming work and poor morale. She knows she will be missed when she retires this spring.
Aspiring to inspire- that should be our goal.
Signing off
Keith
Being blessed with a career of 30+ years in education, I have a story for any occasion of those students who have passed through the hallowed halls of Mr. Roberts' room. Among the greatest was the lab tech poking my arm for a blood draw reminding me that she was my former student and not a very good one at that. Feeling a little bit vulnerable at the time, I quickly asked, "Did you like me?" "Oh yes, everyone did back then" Reassured, the poke in the arm went smoothly and all was well. Whew.
I keep a mental and physical "Mr. Holland's Opus" container of notes and comments that I have gotten over my years of teaching. The stories are great and too many to relate here in this short format. Suffice it to say, I have been blessed with an amazing career and amazing students over the years. I have witnessed an 8th grade miscreant become a chemical engineer with a new baby. I have seen a creative young man go on to teach English at the college level and write his own science fiction novel. Almost every day, I get to see a young man who struggled in school coach our speech kids with dauntless energy and inspire a whole new group of students every year. Perhaps in the next few years I will get to teach of the son of former student who confused a few lines on stage in a play, left it in tears and hopefully, reassured by me to know that she had done her best. I was very proud of her. Doing your best should be expected and is all you can give.
Who inspires me today? Which of those students will be the next lab tech or chemical engineer to come up to me and say " Do you remember me Mr. Roberts? " The answer will always be, "of course, but can you help me with the name?" I have learned that you never can tell who will leave your room for the high school and move toward great things. I have a young man who told me he wants to play basketball for Ohio State. Doing nothing in the fall, he has become this terrifically respectful student even calling me sir! He doesn't always work his hardest, but he tries. I hope to watch him play ball someday! I have four girls who sat together last year in a " pod" who ALWAYS strive to do the best job they can with this incredible positive attitude- and they will end up somewhere doing the best job they can. I would be remiss not to mention a young lady who would like to imagine she is married to a pop idol who is not only an amazing student but has an energy and a vitality that mixed with her intelligence inspires me to continue to challenge my students, every class period, every day.
I do have peers that inspire me as well. I work with an SLA (you work out the acronym) who is so giving and accepting of ALL kids. I wish I had her ability to do that. Another, after experiencing amazing personal tragedy last year, continues to give her best every day and has this incredible upbeat attitude even in the face of overwhelming work and poor morale. She knows she will be missed when she retires this spring.
Aspiring to inspire- that should be our goal.
Signing off
Keith
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Year's resolutions and the blog!
Last year, my resolution was to read/reread 10 Steinbeck novels. While I must admit that worked slowly through the big re-reads, it was a lot of fun to rediscover Cannery Row, Tortilla Flat, and Sweet Thursday. The crucial discussion of euthanasia in Of Mice and Men continues to challenge our thoughts of what is right given situations outside our grasp. I liked the idea of a realistic resolution that would better me and allow me to delve back into the things I used to love before time grabbed me and made me an old man. My resolution this year is something like that. I am going to presumptuously move forward with the idea that I have something important to say- at least important to me. Perhaps, the blog can shed some light on things as I see them, on those influences which shape or have shaped me, or act as a bully pulpit for commentary that I believe is important. My resolution is to try and write something once a week. This, no doubt, will be as tough as re reading The Grapes of Wrath!
Many of you who know me know I teach; I have been at it a long, long time. I love my job- I always have loved my job. I am not sure that I would have loved my job had it not been for influences that shaped my early years as a teacher. Those years were in Ortonville, MN and were key as to who I am and how I teach today. I hold those years fondly, and as I get older and look at retirement, the desire to reconnect to the people and place that is Ortonville becomes more and more an important draw. A recent trip this summer upon the 30th class reunion of the first group of seniors I taught took me back to a time when all that mattered was who was going to work the home football game, what time were we leaving to get to the basketball game, could I get my speech kids ready for another season and would the town like the musical I chose to direct. Simple things really, powerful in their simplicity. A trip to the Matador for supper with its white battlements, dinner from the golf clubhouse, a house party by the lake with former students made for a rethinking of the memories that still thrive there. Lunch with an dear friend Joe reminded me of how far we had come and how important our jobs are. I could write about that place forever. I won't. To the people who remain there, you are a part of me always. You have given me strength, wisdom, and love, the greatest being love.
Tomorrow I return to school to start the 2011 portion of the 2010 -2011 school year. I am anxious to see the kids who will come in with their finery from break and the experiences of the weekend tournaments, the crushes, and the movies who will in a wink of time will be writing their own blogs about growing up in Coon Rapids with maybe a nod to an old man teacher they had. Two young men started calling me coach this year instead of Mr. Roberts; I like that. I don't really teach as much as I coach and lead. Another Monday, another year, another resolution. Life's pretty sweet don't you think? Only 51 to go!
KR
Many of you who know me know I teach; I have been at it a long, long time. I love my job- I always have loved my job. I am not sure that I would have loved my job had it not been for influences that shaped my early years as a teacher. Those years were in Ortonville, MN and were key as to who I am and how I teach today. I hold those years fondly, and as I get older and look at retirement, the desire to reconnect to the people and place that is Ortonville becomes more and more an important draw. A recent trip this summer upon the 30th class reunion of the first group of seniors I taught took me back to a time when all that mattered was who was going to work the home football game, what time were we leaving to get to the basketball game, could I get my speech kids ready for another season and would the town like the musical I chose to direct. Simple things really, powerful in their simplicity. A trip to the Matador for supper with its white battlements, dinner from the golf clubhouse, a house party by the lake with former students made for a rethinking of the memories that still thrive there. Lunch with an dear friend Joe reminded me of how far we had come and how important our jobs are. I could write about that place forever. I won't. To the people who remain there, you are a part of me always. You have given me strength, wisdom, and love, the greatest being love.
Tomorrow I return to school to start the 2011 portion of the 2010 -2011 school year. I am anxious to see the kids who will come in with their finery from break and the experiences of the weekend tournaments, the crushes, and the movies who will in a wink of time will be writing their own blogs about growing up in Coon Rapids with maybe a nod to an old man teacher they had. Two young men started calling me coach this year instead of Mr. Roberts; I like that. I don't really teach as much as I coach and lead. Another Monday, another year, another resolution. Life's pretty sweet don't you think? Only 51 to go!
KR
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