Hello from the bus-build,
The morning was not really stellar. I had thought last fall as I pre-ordered things I was making good choices, the morning proved that to be less than accurate. Diesel heaters, what I thought I ordered for my hot water heater (e.g. electric – what I intended – rather than gas). What I have been pushed to realize is I am so outside my element I feel like a pre-schooler. There is so much I respect from others now. I wish I had a mentor to walk me through it all. Some things are progressing, but to say it is more complicated and more slowly than anticipated would be the epitome of understatement.
And while all of that is tangentially related to the title, it is more where I am at the moment as I consider the age I have achieved. While the age is a number as the cliché goes, it is, nonetheless, significant. For the first time in my life, I can imagine not reaching the next decade. That is not said to be morbid, just honest. Few is my relatives were octogenarians, and as I ponder life and a new decade, what I realize is how blessed I am to merely be here to write this post. As I’ve noted in the decade+, since initiating this blog, my very life is a miracle, the incredibly premature child of a 15 year old. I was born at 26 weeks and weighed 17 ounces. I fit in the palm of your hand. The Chair of Neurology at Geisinger, after looking at MRIs and other neurological testing, said candidly, “That you were not born with CP or that I did not have serious mental deficiency was a miracle (his words about mental disability was much more politically incorrect).” When I spoke with a nutritionist/pharmacist to get my Type II Diabetes more under control a little over two years, ago, she noted, “When I read your medical chart and all you have endured, I do not expect to see someone looking so healthy in my office.” Both medical responses remind me of how resilient the human body is and demonstrates how fortunate I have been to have the medical care I’ve received over the decades.
Health is a combination of genetics and self care, and learning to advocate for yourself in our medical system is not always easy. However, in my life, finding the voice to do so was fundamental to my survival. Much has been written about nature and nurture, and, again, as I have often noted, there were ways and periods I lacked both, and yet as I face this new decade, I am neither bitter nor feeling somehow deprived. I have made things work; I have found a way in which I believe moving forward no matter the obstacles, is always a possibility. More importantly, it is the way you can succeed, even when the outlook is less than optimal. It is easy to feel sorry for one’s self. It it is easy to ask the why, but in both cases, there is really no adequate answer.
While I did not really excel in elementary or high school, I was a capable student and when I put my mind to it, I did quite well. It was not until I enrolled as a 24-year-old freshman at Dana College did I seriously apply myself to becoming educated. It is the success of which I am incredibly proud, but not everything in that endeavor was successful either. There were instances where, in spite of hard work, I would have less than great consequence. What I know now, as I review my various places I worked and professed, my position at UW-Stout was one of those periods. While I did some good work there, and I made a significant difference for both students and colleagues, I had so much yet to learn about being an academician. Those difficult lessons prepared me well for the time I would spend in Pennsylvania. Even my first teaching position at Suomi College was a very mixed bag, and my learning on the job would have serious growing-pains. Perhaps the most profound thing necessary is to be consistently working in a diligent and humble manner to improve, to never believe you have made it, but rather to realize there is so much you can do to develop and refine what you do. Perhaps what I realize and find most gratifying is I am both a teacher and a storyteller. I wrote and preached teaching sermons. When I waited tables or managed a restaurant, I taught both servers and guests things they could do to enhance, to boost their interaction with the person who walked in the door. I taught the guest how to do more than merely eat. I helped them enjoy their meal. My mantra was, and is (even in the last year), dining must be an experience. What I know about myself is that my best work occurred when I am interacting with another in a manner that creates a memory and makes a difference.
And yet, as implied by my title, there have been failures also. Again, perhaps most apparent, and certainly painful, are two marriages. Managing that role as a husband is something that required more than I seemed capable of supplying. Looking back, the reason(s) for each marriage’s dissolution are different, but I am the common denominator. I have noted over time some of what effectuated those events, but I believe it was because I was more selfish than I realized, and too often that selfishness, the actions based on what was ultimately self-interest eroded the trust necessary to maintain a healthy spousal interdependency, certainly a big word, but a necessary one. And yet, much like my eventual successes in the classroom, I believe today I would be a much better partner than I was earlier in life. While I still care deeply about my own goals and needs, I see how they can still be met, without there having to be at the expense of the other. Perhaps it is my own maturity emotionally that provides such a viewpoint.
And perhaps most often, my life falls somewhere in the realm of in between. I will never be the perfectly successful individual at anything. And it is hoped I ever experience such a profound failure that one might see it as the quintessential loss. No, most of my life falls somewhere in the middle. This is not to imply I am merely average because I do believe my life has been eventful, and most often quite fulfilling. In spite of my divorced, there are times I hope both of us were happy and hopeful. It was the maintaining of that where the failure occurred. While I believe I was overwhelmingly beneficial to others as a professor, there were individual days that did not happen. And early in my career, there were entire specific classes where I failed my students. Fortunately, the individual class period ends or the semester is completed. I worked to become a reflective practitioner. And I learned to listen to critique without being destroyed by it.
Living the majority of my life in the in between provided an impetus to improve, to never rest on what was accomplished. Much like the current task at hand, there is so much I need to do, but much of it is believing that this project will happen, that it is okay to feel overwhelmed and inadequate. It is okay to see and experience how under/prepared I was and am. The path forward is a bit frightening, and the logistics are more challenging than I anticipated. And yet, the two working with me are patient and kind. They even said they admire me for doing this at this age. This age . . . once upon a time I could not have imagined being this age. Once upon a time I remember my great/niece telling 55 was ancient. I remember the daughter of my first host family exclaiming loudly, “Thirty!” when I answered her question about my age. And yet, it is here and life with all its successes, failures, and in betweens continue. It’s a gift for sure. Welcome 70.
Thank you as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 