New Year's Wish

AS the New Year approaches, I take the time to reflect on the important things in my life. Last week, my youngest son was in an automobile accident. He came out, most importantly, alive. He had some soreness in his arm and belly and a large abrasion on his neck from the seatbelt. Otherwise, he was unharmed. From the extent of the damages to the van, and to the tree it hit, things could have been unthinkably worse. I am thankful that we were able to continue with our Christmas plans. We were all very lucky. It made me take a close look at the value of the things dear to me. It made me think about my wishes for those special people. To those dear to me, both friends and family, I wish these things for you in the coming year: I sincerely wish that
. . . you are now, and continue to be healthy.
. . . you want for nothing.
. . . your year be filled with joy and love.
. . . you share a least one true friendship.
. . . you lose no one who is dear to you.
. . . no tragedy befall you.
. . . your life be touched with all that is good.
. . . you remember all that is dear to you, and be thankful.
Happy New Year, dear ones. May it bring you all that I wish for you, and all that you wish for yourselves.

The Rainy Day

With list in hand, I loaded my four year old son into the van, and headed toward the grocery store. As I turned the corner it began to pour. It was raining so hard, that it was difficult to see. I cautiously head on. I truly needed to do the shopping. We were out of just about everything. As I drove along, I thought about the miserable weather. I thought how crowded the store would be, and how certain I was, all of the carts would be wet. I grumbled to myself as I found a parking place that was, of course, half way across the lot. I turned around to tell my son that we were there, and wouldn't you know it? He had fallen asleep! With an exasperated sigh, I filled my pocket with paper towels and got out to retrieve my sleeping child. I picked him up and hurried into the store. Shifting him onto one hip, I began to attempt to pull the paper towels out of my pocket, so that I could dry the seat for my son. I struggled with them, and managed to get enough out to start drying off the seat. Suddenly, a young woman touched my arm. "Here. Let me do that for you." She said with a smile. She took the paper towels from my hand, and began to dry the cart. "Thank you." I said. "This is very nice of you." I began to lift my son into the cart. She gently lifted his feet, so they would not get caught on the back of the seat, while holding the cart so it did not slip away. She told me that no thanks were necessary; "It is just a small thing. I am a mother too." Small? Not to me. This kindness made what could have been a difficult task, much easier. "You are kind." I told her. Her response? She shook her head. "People have been kind to me in my life. The best thing I can do, is to do the same." She wished me a blessed day, and went on about her own shopping trip. I walked through the aisles, selecting the things I needed as my son slept, peaceful and dry. As I walked along, I could not stop thinking of the young woman, and the kindness she shared with me. I thought about the difference that the small thing" had made. I did not learn her name, and felt I had not thanked her enough. So, I will do as she had said. I will do the same. I will share a kindness with a stranger. I will touch someone's life today. I will make a difference.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

What are you thankful for?

I am thankful that I grew up in a home full of love. I am thankful that my parents love one another, and that they love me. I always had enough to eat, a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I am thankful I had medical care. I am thankful I was healthy. So many children today, in my country, my state, my town, and in my own classroom do not have all of these things.

What are you thankful for?

I am thankful that I grew up in a safe place. I am thankful I made it through high school and college without gong crazy. I was able to get both a bachelor’s and master’s degree from a good college. I am thankful for my education. So many people never have the chance to get a solid education.

What are you thankful for?

I am thankful that I am able to do what I love. Once, while in church, the lesson was on service. The bishop spoke about how our lives should be lived for the greater good, for service to those in greater need. I am thankful that I can give this service, every day of my life.

What are you thankful for?

I am thankful that I have three wonderful children. My daughter and my sons bless my life every day. They are like air, sunshine, and warmth. They make the stars in my skies shine brighter. It took having them, to know the love my own parents feel for me.

What are you thankful for?

I am thankful for the special friends that have given me more than they could ever know. They have been there when things were good, and when things were bad. They have seen me at my worst, and at my best, and love me just the same. One or two have known me for most of my life. One knows me better than I know myself. I am thankful they are part of my life.

What are you thankful for?

Each of us has things that we are thankful for. Each of us knows that these things make our lives beter. Each of us knows that it should take more than Thanksgiving day to make us remember. So, I ask you now . . .

What are you thankful for?

Have you ever been to a corn maze? Recently, my family and I went to a big corn maze, called Tom's Maze, in Germantown, Ohio. The maze was divided into 12 numbered sections, and a different colored ribbon marked each section. There was a path around the outside, marked by another color, that led you all the way out from any section you were in. Hidden inside each section of the maze, was a mailbox. Inside the mailbox was a piece of the big map. Once you had all the pieces, you had a completed map. As we walked through the maze, I could not help but think how our lives were much like the corn maze …

At start of the maze, we had nothing. We did not now which direction to go, or where the paths might lead us. The children were close by our sides. We chose a direction, and began to follow the path as it wound around the field. Every little bit along the way, there was a turn. We had to make a choice as to which way we were going to go. At times, it was difficult to stay within the colored sections. Sometimes, we wanted to go back through the previous parts, and sometimes, we wanted to skip ahead to the next piece of the maze. We were always looking for the mailboxes, which were hidden in amongst the rows. Once we found it, and affixed our map piece to the whole, part of the maze became a bit clearer. It helped us work our way to the next section. In the center of the maze, we found an observation bridge. From its highest point, we could see the entire maze – where we started, where we had been, and where we were going. As we went along, the children took the lead. Each section was different from the last, yet, somehow familiar. All in all, we were able to complete our task. After about an hour and a half, we emerged from the maze, having discovered all of its secrets – tired, but exhilarated, and none the worse for wear.

Isn’t this, so very much like life? We start out new. We have no experience, and we follow along with our parents. As time goes on, we begin to make our own choices, yet still not knowing how our lives are going to turn out. We go through, following a path, find some answers, and begin to put the pieces together. Each new thing we learn is like a piece of the larger map, each new turn, a decision to be made. We begin to take the lead.

Much like the bridge, there comes a time when you can see things ever so much more clearly than before. You can look back, and reflect on what you have done in your life. You have some experience, to help you to see where you might go next, and how it all might conclude.

There are the times when we wish we were younger again, to go back, and find a different way through. Still, there are the times when we want nothing more than to skip ahead, to not make those turns, even if the puzzle remains unsolved.

Some of us chose an easier path. We simply walk around all obstacles, making no choices, and ending up, inevitably, at the end of the journey, having gained nothing at all.

Some of us find our way easily. Somehow, an internal compass shows the way to go. The correct turn seems simple, and the maze is solved with good speed, and with pieces intact.

But, for most of us, we will wind our way in and out of the paths of our lives, making mistaken turns along the way. We will walk the same paths more than once, and get lost within the maze. We will make the poor choices along with the good, and we will keep going. As we travel through the sections, and gain pieces to the puzzle, we will learn. We will try and find the answers, and make choices based on the information we have. It may take us longer, and we may be a bit more worn, but we will make it.

In the end, we will reach the end just as everyone else did. We will be victorious, yes. But maybe, we will be a bit fuller, and maybe, a bit wiser for the journey.

Stories

How many ways can you think of to tell a story? Reading a book out loud? Reading to your self? Watching a movie? How about on the radio, and even pod-casts? Our daily lives are inundated with media, and information in more forms than ever before. People are finding more and more ever creative ways of telling stories. Long ago, stories were shared verbally. Stories were shared each evening, as the entire village gathered around the fire.

Recently, there has been amazing coverage concerning the story of the passing of Lisa Moore. If you do not already know, Lisa is a character in the comic strip “Funky Winkerbean” by Tom Batiuk. Lisa had been battling Cancer, and lost the fight on October 4th, 2007. This story, beautifully expressed by the artistry of Mr. Batiuk, played out fully in the daily comic strip. This story has touched millions of lives. I have followed it closely myself, and have been very impressed by the coverage it has received. This fictional account of one woman’s battle with Cancer, and the lives she touched, has brought the topic of Cancer to a possibly previously un-reached audience.

Last week, National Public Radio’s “Talk of the Nation” interviewed Tom Batiuk. It was very interesting. People from all over called in, and e-mailed thoughts and comments. Most of the people thanked Mr. Batiuk for his story. Thanked him for giving them a way to relate, to understand, or to deal with their own losses. Some, were not so favorable. There were some people who said they thought the “funnies” should be funny. That it was not the place to be serious, and discuss real life, important matters. I disagree.

Comics. What a wonderful medium! Using the comics, millions of people can be reached every single day. Important subjects or anything you want to talk about can be presented. An interest in all kinds of topics can be discovered, and people can be inspired to learn more. This is a gateway to literacy. They allow you to reading a story, every day, just a little bit at a time. With a comic strip, you can inspire people to read – to themselves, to their children, to their classes.

“Funky Winkerbean” is not the only strip that has braved this frontier. Lynn Johnston has done it with “For Better or Worse”; we have read about teachers with disabilities, older mother pregnancy, and stroke. Doonesbury, by G.B. Trudeau, has talked about addiction, marriage, and war.

With comic strips such as “Funky Winkerbean”, we can watch the characters grow and change; just as we ourselves are growing and changing. It is not static, but becomes almost a living thing. We become invested in the characters lives, and want to know what is going to happen to them next. They almost become real, become people we know and care about, become friends.

If you are among those who believe the funnies should be funny, you can choose to read strips that stay “safe”. Garfield will continue to eat lasagna, and drive Odie insane. Hagar will continue to drink, Beetle will still run away from Sarge, and Marvin’s biggest decision will be that of white vs. chocolate milk.

As for the rest of us, thanks to artists like Tom Batiuk, we will continue to follow the lives of our newspaper friends. We will invest in literacy though the sharing of their stories. They will remain in our lives through the gift of words and images. We will read their stories, and share them with others.

Take a moment to think about all that this medium can offer. Take a chance. There are stories yet to be told. Open up the paper, and join us ‘round the fire.

Something New

I wrote a poem, selected a few of my father's photographs, and put some music with it using photobucket.com
Let me know what you think ....

Where were you when . . .

Every generation has one – One of those days that is frozen in time, and stays with you forever. It becomes a kind of conversation starter. You find yourself standing next to someone in a social situation, and before you know it they ask, “Where were you when …”

For my Grandparents, it was “Where were you when they announced the end of the War?” For their children it was “Where were you when President Kennedy was shot?” That was the day of my Aunt Bobbe’s 16th birthday party. It did not turn out to be much of a birthday that year.

I had heard this questioned asked growing up, and I was always fascinated by the answers. It impresses me that each person knew exactly where they were, what they were doing, and could tell you exactly how they felt even decades later.

I would have thought mine would come later, but, just as for my Aunt, I was 16. I was a Junior in High School in Odessa, Texas. That morning, there was an assembly in our gymnasium. All 2,100 students and all the staff were in attendance. I remember watching on the giant screens as the engines were lit, and remember watching as the great vehicle roared to life. We watched the smoke bellow below it, and all spoke together as we listened to the countdown – 10…9…8…7… The Space Shuttle rose toward heaven amidst our hoots, cheers, and clapping. Then, all of the sudden, flames! Smoke! The Challenger, was gone! There was a silence, the heaviest silence I have ever heard. Time was suspended, and the silence remained unbroken for several minutes until we started to gasp, to scream, and to cry. I will never forget that feeling.

I am an adult now, and have my own children. I had often wondered what my daughter’s moment would be. She is 11, and hers has already happened. She was just five years old, and in Kindergarten. It was September, just a few weeks into the school year. A day that seemed like any other. A day that would change the world forever. It was the morning of September, 11th. She still remembers how afraid everyone was. She still remembers not understanding what was going on, but knowing something terrible had happened.

I reflect on this now as we come upon the 6th anniversary of the attacks. I wonder about what our future has in store for us. I wonder what will happen next. I have two boys, who are four and six years old. What great or tragic events will fill their lives? When they grow up, and find themselves in a social situation, who will ask them “Where were you when…” and what will their answer be?

I cannot even imagine.