Hello from Williamsport,
I have been here in Williamsport more in the last 10 days than perhaps in the entire time I lived in Bloomsburg (16 years). Between meeting with Pennsylvania College of Technology, helping some with Social Security issues, and now getting my Real ID, I could probably put my car on autopilot to get to the Basin Street exit. I like the downtown area of Williamsport; it is welcoming, clean, and quaint.
Over the past couple weeks more than once I was asked if I remember dreams. Generally the answer is no. There are a couple of exceptions, and sometimes, I might have a fleeting glimpse of what might I have dreamt, but then it is gone. And there there is a different aspect of the word dream that I believe is perhaps as essential to the nightly things that drift through our minds or psyche as we sleep. Those are the hopes or aspirations we might have. This morning I listened to someone’s thoughts about those things that might propel us forward. We were all asked at some point, and probably more often than we might realize, what do you want to be or do when you grow up? The only thing I remember want to be when I was growing up was a funeral director, which mortified my adopted mother. When her 8 year old rushed to get the daily afternoon paper to read the obituaries, it caused her some serious consternation. The irony that I ended up working with funeral directors often as a parish pastor does not go unnoticed. And yet, I am not sure I ever had a dream or hope that corresponded with some vocational goal.
And now as someone retired, it might be worth asking what are my current dreams, hopes, or aspirations. Somewhat amazingly, as I ponder, I think my dreams were always more about actions or character than job or some level of achievement. Even as a very young person I was always questioning the why of something, but more often than not, it was the why about the why? I remember when I had my second major abdominal surgery at Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, AZ in April of 1991. While staying with my Great-aunt Helen, my grandmother’s elder sister, and that grandmother being my mother from ages 2-5, I spoke of things I remembered as a small child. My great-aunt was stunned telling me that I was barely two. And yet somehow, I remembered. She told me that her recollections of me at that point were that I was always happy, and I wanted others to be happy. There is a significant consistency in that attitude as almost 7 decades later I abhor drama, and I work diligently to keep things on an even keel. In an effort to be transparent, I did have a period in my life I did not manage that, but I think that was more in response to others than emanating from or originating in me. Even now, I work intentionally to minimize disharmony in any circumstance I encounter.
Somewhere within my time teaching here in Bloomsburg, someone asked if I could give them my life’s philosophy. My initial response was “In 30 words or less?” Yet, I responded rather immediately, and said, “If my life makes other lives more meaningful, I make my own life more meaningful.” I still believe that was an answer with the help of the Holy Spirit, but that sentence has remained with me since that first articulation. And as I write this it seems that is also my dream – to simply make the lives of those around me better. I think making the lives of those I meet more enjoyable is fulfilling the most gracious thing, the most impossible dream I could ever hope to accomplish. There is no real materialism or financial gain, but there is a profound emotional, a significant mental, benefit. Growing up in a household that always had me walking on eggshells was difficult. And it taught me how I did not want to live. This is not to say I have no standards or preferences. And in fact, I struggle mightily at times with both my own OCD and propensity for perfectionism. In fact, two good friends tease me regularly about how I set my own personal dining space before I eat.
What I realize now is that I have never been profoundly intent in becoming rich or important. Most certainly I appreciate nice things, but my father’s admonishment of “if you pay for it take care of it.” has served me well. My second notable characteristic is my willingness to give. I must admit it gets me in trouble (and has). I remember a bank branch manager telling me if I wrote another check loaning money, she would close my bank account. What I learned in all of that is if you cannot afford to lose the money, do not lend it. I will not reveal how much I have provided, but it is significant. Even when I left Bloomsburg, the number of things I gave away was extensive. But my reason for doing so was simple: if someone can get good use of those items, why not do it? Lydia, my Austrian neighbor, used to chide me for being too kind. When I told her there was no such thing or I had no complaints, she would respond in her Austrian accent, “That’s disgusting.” I would tell her regularly I was brought into her life to counter-balance her pessimism. Optimism is for me a sort of dreaming; it believes in possibilities; it hopes for things not yet realized. It is akin to the verse that describes faith in Hebrews 11:1. It is acting in a manner that makes the world immediately around you better. I choose to dream. When I was growing up, my sister, who was an incredibly talented pianist, used to play this song and we sang it together. What a memory that is. The initial picture is one of the earliest I have of my sister and me.
Bless your dreams, may they come to fruition, and thank you for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 