Saturday, August 23, 2014

Taming Each Other

When second graders come into the classroom at the beginning of the year, that moment is so filled with excitement.  They have special friends they haven’t seen in two-and-a-half months.  That is a long time in the life of a seven year old.  Oh, some have had play dates, but for most – the summer is a time of waiting to catch up with their buddies again.  Some kids, when they meet up again, are shy for a few moments.  They can see that friends have changed, right?  Some have lost teeth.  Some grew new ones.  ALL have gotten bigger.  Second grade faces don’t look quite the same as first grade faces.  Hair gets that summer shine.  Many are wearing new clothes.

The shyness wears off soon and they are back to being the best friends they left behind so long ago.  Disney, camps, daycare, soccer, baseball, the pool, vacations.  It pours out like a stream. 

And with me there is a shyness that I know will wear off soon.  There are several children whose brothers and sisters have been in my classes in the past.  And some I know just from being around our small school.  I went into their classroom at the end of first grade a few times to break the ice.  Since these children were all in the same classroom last year, they all remember.  We sang some songs.  “She’ll be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain When She Comes”, “Tools Was a Baby Rabbit”, “Puff the Magic Dragon”.  They will become the first songs we sing together this year. 

But our time together at the end of their first grade year was just to get acquainted.  We are essentially strangers.  Strangers who must spend two years together reading, writing stories, solving challenging problems.  We will laugh together and cry together.  There will be joy and naughtiness, hard work and laziness, magic moments as well as boredom. 

At the beginning of our time together they must put up with me telling them about our routines and rituals.  They have to learn how to share a bathroom with another class, how to put books back where they came from and how to put up chairs without clonking someone on the head.  They will be reminded of how to cough and sneeze safely (into the elbow, toward the floor), and must come to know what it means when they see the quiet sign. 

Because I have done this so many times (35 new school year beginnings to be exact) I can see the potential here.  I know we will catch lizards on the playground field and watch butterflies emerge from chrysalises. We will share who we are and as well as our dreams.  We will come to know each other’s favorite animals, colors, shows, and families. I know we will write the stories of our lives together.  I know the potential of our friendships.  Will come to love each other.  We will tame each other.  They will learn to trust me and I will trust and depend on them. 

It is quite like this passage from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-ExupĂ©ry where the Prince meets the fox…

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."

I know that being a teacher of little kids at the school where I teach makes me the luckiest guy around.  I get to share my favorite books with my best friends and work together solving problems and learn about how the world works and how to try to change it to make it better.  

I get to bear witness to the most amazing thing the world has known – human growth and development.  I will see them develop as readers, writers, mathematicians, singers, scientists, historians.  I will be a part of the growth of humor, capacity to care for others, and awareness of national and world events.  I will watch them grow their hair long and then cut it short, I will see little teeth come out and big old teeth come back in their place.  I will see shoes get too small and get to compliment them on their new shoes, bought just a little too big with room to grow (I’ll bet you can run fast in THOSE…). 

I can look ahead and see the time when we have tamed each other.  I see the potential energy in our relationships.  I can predict the trust and bonds that will take place in a while.  Because I have taught little ones for so long, I have faith that this beautiful group of children will learn to rely on me and have faith in my decisions. 

Now I am still a stranger.  We have not tamed each other.  Ah, but we will.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

34 Years

Saturday, August 9, 1980 -

Most people spend more on just their flowers than we spent on our entire wedding.  Far more.  It was simple.  Elegant.  Heidi was the most beautiful bride ever.  Her dress was uncomplicated.  She didn't need anyone to pull her dress around when she walked up the aisle and got situated in front of me.  I had a band collar shirt.  No tie.  My brother Dan stood up with me.  He wore a simple suit.  No tux.  Heidi's sister Paula stood up with her.

We wrote our vows.  Our friends played the music.  I played and sang on a couple too (Oh, Happy Day).  We didn't mash cake into each other's faces.

When I was a kid I didn't think I'd even live to be 34 years old.  And now to be married to Heidi Mills for 34 years...

We were best friends.  Thing is, we still are.  I feel like the luckiest guy who ever walked the face of the earth.  And while more days are behind us than lie ahead, I look forward to each one, waking up next to this woman who is as beautiful in her heart as she is on the outside.  And everyone who knows her knows it.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Who Says You Can't Go Home Again?

Music and shooting pool,
First kisses and a brother
Who died too young.
Cars, first jobs, and parents
Who have passed on.
Paper routes and sandlot baseball.
Crushes and ping pong.
Adventures and crazy old teachers,
And yes, our current lives.
 Families and kids and jobs.
A lot of looking back but also
Our dreams of what lies ahead.

Basketball, football, soccer, kick-the-can and
We only spent a short part of our lives together.
A little while, a long time ago.
Ah, but those were important years.
We helped each other to grow up.
To be the ones we would become.

We talked of
Mutual childhood friends and family.
Who had become cops
And professors,
Drug addicts and nuns.
Of how our parents passed away
And what they passed on to us.

While our hair has grayed or gone,
And our faces are lined,
It was the eyes that I remembered most.
Those eyes got us back to our shared history.
Those looks that made us laugh or mist over.
The eyes brought us back to the depths of our friendship,
Beyond the old acquaintances we had become.

Almost forty years had passed
Since we last sat in each other’s company.
Half a lifetime without looking into each other’s eyes.
When I heard Ed’s voice on the phone
For the first time since the early 70’s
I didn’t recognize it.
He could have been any middle-aged man
From the mid-west.
But when I saw those eyes I knew.
I remembered.
I was taken back in time.
To campfires in Maysack’s Woods and paper routes,
And altar boys and talk of girls,
And sneaking smokes and playing pranks,
And slugging shoulders and Catholic school haircuts,
And older brothers and sisters we looked up to.
And dreams.

When Geno and I reconnected after Rick died –
Those stilted emails and condolences –
It was so artificial. 
But when he got out of the car
I asked him to take off his sunglasses.
I needed to see those eyes.
Those cunning, teasing, laughter-filled eyes.
“Why are you hitting yourself?” and
“Let me show you how it’s done.”

For three hours we laughed and reminisced
And riffed and joked and shared our story.
About wives and kids and grandkids
Whose paths we have not yet crossed.

Sun in our faces,
Baseball caps and laughs.
The sound of Lake Michigan waves and laughs.
Cigar smoke and seagulls
And sunstars on the surface of the water
And laughs.

Our lives, once as connected as tin can telephones
Strung from house to house,
Had been separated by miles and lifetimes.
But three older men
Sat on one a picnic table on a beach
And looked into each others’ eyes
And made each other laugh.

Before those two grown men
Got into that fancy car
On that warm and sunny Lake Michigan day
Heading back into lives and people
I’ve never known,
Gene called to me,
“I still love you Timmy.”

And somehow-
After all that distance,
Scars, lovers, fears, laughter, children, tears –
Somehow that’s who I was.  Timmy.
And these two old friends
Showed me that
In some small way
It is still
A part
Of who
I am.