thewritingprofessor55

Hello from my snowy little corner.

This past weekend saw the first major snowstorm of the season for Bloomsburg.This was true when I first began this post at the end of January. It is now early April, and in spite of a mild winter I am flying back into the probability of 2-4 inches of snow this evening. Back to the original post.

For me it meant the literal dusting off of the snowblower, and the reality of dealing with a redesign driveway and sidewalk wish necessitated much more snow removal than previous winters. I spent somewhere between three and four hours behind the snowblower, but that did little more than remind me of my time in the upper peninsula where snowblowing was a daily task. So the nearly a foot of snow that fell was nothing more than a nuisance, but not really that much of a nuisance because it was neither cold nor windy. In fact, after the first two hours snowblowing eperience, I came in soaked from sweat rather than soaking through layers because of the snow. Furthermore, in comparison to most of the East coast, and some as little as 60 miles away, the approximate for the snow we got seems to be merely a dusting. It did make the roads a bit slippery, but a little common sense driving while going to the grocery store or out for my colleagues and friends to celebrate their birthday, was no big problem. . . . It is a week later since that snow and the fact I have not gotten any further on this blog is a clear indication of how the last week went. The fact that somehow this blog was never completed demonstrates a pretty clear picture of the semester. The other diffidence is that I have found myself going to bed earlier than I ever imagined possible. I have been in bed by 8:30 some evenings.

Mondays and Wednesdays are busy to begin with, but this past Monday I was once again called to speak with the Scott Township Zoning Board.  The attempt to merely get a variance continues and has continued even longer because an attorney missed the meeting. My neighbors, who are unparalleled by any imagination of a modicum of mutuality, regaled themselves in full force once again, but I appreciated their presence. The local press was there and so, after yet another meeting, they should have quite an interesting story to tell. If even an inkling of this circus would have been apparent back in the spring, I am sure I would have done things very differently. The adage of live and learn is certainly apropos at this point. One of the three are like little kids in a sandbox; if they don’t get their own way they will complain and whine, threatening to take the toys home. The second generally act kind to your face, but are having conversations up and down the block, complaining about the new person in the neighborhood. The third of the group seems reasonable and had been for the most part willing to speak and to listen. For my part, I have been very unreasonable because I widened the driveway to make it easier for the first of the three to back things up and into their yard. For the third, I am sure my irrational behavior is because I signed a right-a-way so they could get a gas line to their house. The second of the neighbors is three doors down the street; so it is profoundly apparent why a one-car, one-person, apartment should be such a tremendous hardship on them. The logic of all of this, in spite of my trying to understand the struggle, escapes me. I am quite sure whatever happens, there will be repercussions. It is the first time in 60 years I have ever struggled with neighbors. Then again, I have never felt so disrespected. The other evening they huddled together and refused to even speak to me. I know they will say I did not speak to them, but I felt a little gained up on: 6-1 is certainly not conducive to handshakes. As you know, if you have been reading, the variance was granted, the next couple pieces are pro forma at best. I will say that there have seemed to be few repercussions at this point in the neighborhood. As I turn back to the original posting, the following sentence has been proven true beyond my wildest imagination. The loss of Bekah at the early age of 38 still seems to be something contrary to reality, but it is painfully true. The loss of other’s who are parents or grandparents seems to be occurring on an alarmingly regular basis.

There are certainly more important things than this continued foolishness. Work is tremendously busy. I already have papers to grade and blogs to read. I am supposed to go to an event tonight, but I have too much on my plate and I need to go into this week on top of things. I could probably pull an all-nighter this evening to be optimally prepared. Tomorrow, again, to the chagrin of the trying-trio, I am having a gathering of students who were on the Poland trip at the house. Car-pooling will be optimal and I will work hard to manage the parking. Today I shopped for various and asundry items and yesterday I ordered food. I think it should be enjoyable. I am going to do some of my own cooking, but the majority I am having brought in. If you are reading now you are probably wondering if you entered a time warp. I have decided to resurrect this post. . . . So if you have been able to follow this sort of Faulkneresque posting, indeed I jumped back and forth from when I originally wrote in late January and early February to the first weekend in April. As I write now, I am descending into Philadelphia and they are warning of turbulence. Indeed, it has begun. It was a bit bumpy, but I survived as you see because I am still writing. By the time I got home tonight I had more excitement as a former colleague decided to stop by. That is a sad and entirely different story for another time.

It is already the middle of the week and I am not finished with my work. I guess that illustrates clearly that l am working diligently, but sometimes not as successfully as I would like, to manage all the pieces. It is always the case at the end of the semester. I need to keep my head down and manage what is coming. It is life and everyone has these times. I think it is time to head out and publish this. Dinner tonight with the Polish students is the next thing on the agenda.

As always, thanks for reading.

Dr. Martin

  Good early morning from a van (traveling with students to NYC), 

Needless to say I am not driving. It is a bit ironic that I wrote an earlier entry much like this March of 2014, but I was on my way back from NYC with José, Melissa, and Jordan after seeing Stomp. Today I am going to see The Crucible. Sunday was Easter and that holiday is so different from when I was a parish pastor. Easter might be the most attended service of the year for many churches and it was the finale of a very long week in terms of number of services and energy needed to manage the week. I have to admit there are things I miss and things I do not when it comes to that week. This Easter I had 10 people for dinner (including myself) and spent significant time making paella and a variety of other things for Easter dinner. It turned out pretty well and I worked to accommodate palates and preferences. I have learned that it is pretty easy to be flexible. 

By the end of the day I was tired, but content. What I have noticed is that I have begun to be in bed (with relative frequency) by 9:30 or even earlier. I will almost always wake up at some point, often around 2:00-3:00 in the morning, and I am up for some time reading, but I usually go back to sleep. . . . When I was in Ireland a couple weeks ago, I became aware of the approaching Centenntial Celebration of the Easter Uprising. It was hard to not want to be in Iteland to see how they would commemorate this. There were a number of posters and other  placards noting a variety of events. For those who are unfamiliar, this uprising is really the beginning of Irish Indepedence.   I did not realize that such a significant event was so close to my visit. Ireland is an amazing country. The beauty of its land land and the warmth of its people are hard to describe because of the depth and degree of its reality.  The accent is sort of the icing on this emerald cake. I could listen to their speaking everyday and not grow tired of it. I’ll tell us (please re-read the previous lines in your best imagined accent.). Since coming back, not a day has passed that I have not thought of the scant or brief 5 days I was there in Corcaigh. I am wondering how such a significant holiday as Easter, as both religion and independence, would change my perception of that holiday. I was also shocked that Ireland as a Republic was so young (there was the mistaken perception because we were considering a Eurpoean country, independence was something more from the Middle Ages. Perhaps it was because Scotland is such a different situation. 

As I moved into Monday, the reality of the week ahead and the fact that the semester is rapidly drawing to a close sort of slapped me square along side my head, much like a sixth grade teacher did to me when I failed to listen to her instructions once upon a time in my life. Today, the teacher would have been in trouble. Back then it was me who was in trouble and any call to a teacher would have been to confirm my impetulance. Things have certainly changed in terms of requiring accountability. I got a phone call early Monday morning and the mother of a college classmate (a bit broadly speaking) passed unexpectedly. What I have been reminded of yet again is the giftedness of the days we are granted. In part because we know not how long we have, but more importantly because we are given so many opportunities to make a difference, but we seldom notice or take the time to do so. While the interaction had been merely beating on each other in Trivia Crack, connecting the dots in the 30 years since Dana has been an unexpected gift. The opportunity to have students attend another performance On/Off Broadway is always a great experience. The students yesterday were mostly honors students, and not surprisingly were attentive, inquisitive, and thoughtful. Seeing Arthur Miller’s The Crucible was quite a remarkable afternoon. The entire Puritan/witch-hunt craziness amazes me, but more importantly it causes be great pause. Stunning how the perception of a few powerful males could turn an entire social order upside down, demonizing women because of ignorance and an unbelievably skewed scriptural hermeneutic. What is more frightening is we have not learned much in 350 years. Arguments made this week by the person, whose name will not be spoken, concerning abortion and a woman’s right to privacy are simply shocking. It is because of the money that gives license to speak such absurdity? Is it because the media continues to salivate, like Pavlak’s dog, waiting for the next profoundly stupid utterance, reporting it wide and far and thereby keeping this imbecile on the front page? While I am probably as aware  of the comparisons as some, and perhaps more deeply connected to those comparisons than most, how did the German people react to the vilification of anyone whom Hitler deemed unworthy of being part of his Aryan clan?

When I was in Poland in January, and particularly when we visited the Jewish Quarters or Ghettos, or while standing in the midst of Nazi flags in Schindler’s factory, or even a second spine tingling visit to Auschwitz, it is hard to fathom how the rhetoric used by the Third Reich was so unparalleled in its persuasion. Yet, I listen to what I find to be tremendously vulgar, horrifyingly stupid, and simply bizarre and yet tens of thousands flock to listen, and are seemingly bewitched to blindly strike out in violence and hate. I am sorry, but what is happening is more than anger. I believe, as a white Midwestern male that too much of this reaction is an attempt to return us to a pre-women vote, pre-civil rights era of Good Ol’ Boy political corruption. These battles were fought and significant progress was made when I was in elementary school. Are we, after a mere half century, willing to undo the progress made? Mob mentality vilified the Jews in the 1930s and 1940s. A lot of that vilification came from the political power of the time. I too see more parallels in Donald Trump and his goons and the fools who seem to see him as the current Aryan savior. It frightens me beyond anything I have witnessed in my sexteganarian-aged existence. I am hoping that as the seemingly unequalled string of vitriol continues to fall out of his Editwild-haired head, all of the people maligned will gather to prove that we do not have to be a people who are coerced by the lowest common denominator of our humanity.

Today, two years ago, Jennifer, my niece, was visiting and presenting to my classes. About three years ago, Dan Riordan, my mentor and friend, was here to evaluate a program. Last year, I had just come back from visiting my best friend in life for one last time and I remember speaking with two people in Tampa about ALS treatment. Unfortunately, Peter did not live much longer. Facebook’s offering that allows us to look back at what was happening provides an opportunity to see a continuum of events that, when viewed together, create a rather unique, but enormously instructive sense of what we have been doing. It is striking how these kairotic snapshots can provide such a clear block or two of our quilted existence. So today, for those of you who read my blog with any regularity will not be shock that I am flying once again. Right now I am between Detroit and Des Moines (not trying for aliteration, but it is there) at probably 32,000 ft. Going to a funeral where I will see some people I have not seen in 30 years, half my life ago. Perhaps life is not as disjointed as I thought. 

Thank you as always for reading. 

Michael (aka Dr. Martin)

Good evening from Filet,

The stress of both 8 months and the last two weeks sort of culminated in the same afternoon and evening (a spans of about 5 hours). When I tried to renovate a barn (circa 1880) and after deciding in consultation that it could not be saved, I began a project that seemed to be a reasonable (and helpful) upgrade. After eight months of roadblocks, a lot of painful actions on the part of others, and more money and paperwork on things I could have not imagined in my wildest dreams, the desired outcome was achieved. It is still not a case of winning because feelings have been hurt and relationships have been strained. That was neither my intention nor anything that leaves me feeling like this is a great thing. I have never been one to desire confrontation, but on the other hand I do not like being bullied. I am pretty sure that the initial intention was not to be drawn out. I know that it surprised both the builder and my eventual attorney. Yet, there is still more to accomplish. I am not exactly sure when it will finally be completed, but it appears the most difficult part is finally behind me. There are still some survey issues, but I have left it to the attorney to figure them out. I too will be speaking with Multi-County Abstract.

In my last post, which was begun after this initial writing and posted before the writing in this paragraph, I noted the connection I feel between writing and thinking. If you have followed my blog with any regularity, you know that I am always pondering, questioning, imagining, and yet reflecting. On one of the building on campus (called the Ben Franklin Building) above one of the lintels is the following quote (one by Franklin? I am unsure, but it would be logical), “Wisdom is the fruit of reflection.” It is both a truism as well as something which inspires me. Wisdom is what academe is about. It is a foundational tenet of what we should be doing as professors. Again, I remember my first trip to Europe with Dr. John W. Nielsen. I was 25 years old, but he provided a thoughtful sort of homily on the word professor. He noted insightfully and passionately that the title itself meant more than merely teaching. It was the actual action of professing something, but it was all encompassing. It was not merely what one did, but it was who they were (btw, I am aware that some will argue an agreement issue here, but what is standard/acceptable in this context is evolving). I remember the conversation clearly, but I am not sure I imagined needing to reflect on it in such a vocational manner. There is a difference, however, in the role of the academic today versus when I was in college in the early 80s, and even more so as I walk into a classroom today. From what we need to know and for what we must prepare our students to how we deliver it in and out of the classroom, the evolution of the academy has been dramatic. As I sit in a class right now, I have tasked my students with coming up with a PowerPoint progress report of what they have done up to this point in the semester. This is not something they were aware of, and that was done intentionally. First, it is something that could happen in a real professional setting if one is working for a company or on a contract. Second, it pushes the students to realize exactly where they are in their process and that is important because the end of the semester is coming more quickly that they actually expect. It is easy to get lulled into some sense of comfort. The end of the semester is coming more quickly that they probably anticipated.

This past week has been a week of students seeming to find it difficult to come to class. I think they are still psychologically (academically) and, in many cases as exhibited by their absences, physically.  This is always frustrating to me, and I am not even entirely sure why that is the case. Perhaps it is because I did not skip classes regularly when I was a student, at any level (there was one exception, but I will not elaborate on that here). I do  believe I work hard to create classes that make a difference and where students walk out, particularly in the program courses, with valuable and life-long skills that help them be fundamentally more successful. From cover letters to resumes, from proposal writing to memos, from instructors to usability testing and reporting, all of these things happen in my technical writing courses. Everything builds on what happens before and to fail to participate regularly affects both the student and their group. This is one thing that always frustrates me more than anything else. It has shown up in more areas of my life as of late than I would care to imagine. While I am certainly not perfect, and I drop the ball at times, I am usually willing to take accountability for that mistake. My willingness to help is coming back to bite me and I am going to spend most of the morning trying to put all of that together. I know that situations happen; I know that the unforeseen can mess up our best laid plans. Yet, it seems I have a propensity for being willing to jump in to save before I consider all of the consequences. Those who know me, even a little, are probably shaking their heads, both in agreement and in a kind of dismay that I make similar mistakes again and again. I am learning, but as I often say, “I am a SLOW learner.” – and that is certainly the epitome of understatement. The struggle with that is I get myself in trouble because I stress myself out over the consequences. The work I need to do today to manage all of this is going to keep me up for the next couple nights to try to gather all the paperwork to put the pieces together. Idealism is a dangerous thing. My wanting to see the good and believe there is good in all people has been a downfall at times. In spite of what I write here, I am not bitter, but merely battered about a bit. It will be a long rest of the week, but hopefully, I will get it figured out. The other difficulty for me is that these things can overwhelm me and then I shut down. However, I am not in a position to shutdown. There is too much to do and too many people depend on me doing what I am supposed to do. I think it might be a 24 hour work marathon if I am to get all my ducks-in-a-row. The Statler Brothers’ song, “Class of ’57” comes to mind at the moment.

When I came to Bloomsburg, it was a beginning of my life in a very different way. It is hard, at times, to imagine that I have been here for 6 and a half years. I was mentioning just yesterday that it was the longest I have ever lived in one place since I graduated from high school. I do not think I believed I would have had a rather nomadic life that it has turned out to be, but that is what has happened. I have, a number of times, realized that I am probably destined to be more like my Uncle Clare than I might have imagined. I have to admit there are moments that such a prospect for the end of my life frightens me. Yet, in spite of his seeming curmudgeonly demeanor, he was genuinely grateful for things and people. What I think most amazed me about him to this day was his love for reading, and I think he taught himself to read. Second, it would be his knowledge of plants and animals. In today’s world he would have been a conservation officer or a game warden. I think he would have been terrific in such a position. There are times I still miss him and I smile when I think of him driving around his 1965 Chevrolet Impala. I think he might have had a car after that, but somehow, I do not remember what it was. I think about coming in his back door and his house always looked the same. I think there were things he never changed from when Gladys, his wife (and my father’s eldest sister) passed in 1960. He was born in 1896 (I had mistakenly thought 1892) and was 93 when he passed. He was still as clear as could be and as cantankerous as one could ever fear. I am pretty sure I will not be that clear. I forget more things than I want to admit (keys, checkbook, what I went into a room for, where I put things, and planning a sort of laundry list of things and not remembering some of it immediately afterwards).  I must admit that some of this scares me. When I consider my genetics (as an adopted person), I am not exactly sure what my propensity for Alzheimer’s or dementia is. If I consider my adopted family, which is still part of my biological family (again a long story that I will not attempt here), I know that if I follow their traits, I am in deep trouble. I do wonder at times with my other history if I will make it to the point where I might have to experience such a difficulty, but then again, as noted, it seems there are already some red flags. It is something upon which I need to focus, and probably sooner rather than later.

Significant time has really passed since I first began this post, and my initial title still stands. There is so much I understand, but there is still much more that I seem to witness and experience that causes me pause. I do wish I had more figured out, but somehow, the infamous when I think I get something squared away, circles are more in vogue. What I do know is there are no guarantees and just when something begins to make sense, something else will change. I cannot remember who said this, but something like (paraphrased) the only thing constant is change itself.” It seems there are some truthful clichés out there after all.

Thank you for reading.

Dr. Martin

 

 

Hello from my upstairs,

If my older brother were alive, he would be 65 years old, old enough to collect social security. It is late on the 9th of February as I begin to compose this latest post, but I am pretty sure I will not finish it tonight. Part of that is because it is after 10:00 and more importantly, I am tired. . . . it seems I was a bit more prophetic than I anticipated. It is now Wednesday morning and while it started a bit ordinary with a snowy February morning and the use of the snow blower, since then it has been anything but. I got things finished and planned to meet my cleaning person at Dunkin’. However, she, uncharacteristically was not there. I waited for some time and she did not show. More about that in a bit . . . and the irony of it.

What I was to note here was that I was a student much like the ones I was lamenting in my last missive about those paying to be educated. I was a student at Iowa State University and while I thought I had some idea about the ins and outs of being a student, I was mistaken. During that January into February of 1977 my older brother, Robert (aka Bob or Barney to his friends),  was struggling to hang on to life after a construction accident in which he fell and hit his head. He had a massive brain hemorrhage and was in a coma. He was so different than I was. He was a whiz at math and physics and he was even more gifted as a musician. In high school he was part of a band (much like the first CTA, if you know that album before they had to change their name or like BS&T and again, if you are not sure of these bands, you will have to Google away). This basement/garage-beginning group of high school friends had created a following that got them noticed by Mid-Continent and before it was all completed, they had an East Coast tour. Through a wide array of jobs following the band and now being a husband, he was back in our home town of Sioux City and he had been accepted into the apprenticeship program to become a journeyman electrician like our father. He and I were different in other ways. He was a product of his late 60s teenage years and was certainly much like others who had sat in their living rooms wondering about the lottery and if they might be drafted. As I have mentioned before, had his number required induction, I think he would still have a different accent be cheering hockey for the Oilers or Canadians. He was actually quite shocked when his undersized, squirrely, and rather lazy brother somehow enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.

Most of that quarter I sat in Ames, Iowa while he laid in an intensive care ward at St. Vincent’s Hospital (now Marian Health Center). While I was registered for classes, I seldom if ever attended and was content to spend my afternoons burning herbal substances and evenings in a bar called “The Lucky Cue” which was located on Welch Avenue between the Towers and campus. It was a cold winter and that was often the reason we used to not go to class, but making it to the bar down that wind-tunneled street, which was only about a block or more from campus seemed to offer no hardship. Go figure. February 10th was a Thursday that year, 39 years ago and for whatever reason – I really do not remember what the reason was – I traveled home to Sioux City. I think it was because someone was headed that way that I knew and could catch a ride. My brother was of slight build and not overly tall, about six foot, and during the spans of time since his accident (January 4th to February 10th) being in a coma that entire time had emaciated his slender build. He looked worse than some of the Holocaust survivor pictures I have seen in my life. From the surgery to release pressure on his brain to the loss of weight (he weighed less than 100 pounds), from the taping of his eyes to allow them to close at least for some time to the skin that started to deteriorate, this shell of a body that was once brilliant and talented was my first experience to help me realize that death could be compassionate. I remember holding his hand and trying to speak to him. I was the last of the family to actually see him. The vigil and corresponding pain that my mother and father and my sister-in-law, Carolyn, had held and endured at his bedside was beyond my comprehension. While I was overwhelmed I felt left out because I had not been there. I felt guilty I think. Yet in my selfishness, I was too proud to admit my mistakes or be accountable for the time I had wasted in Ames.

We are told that in spite of the inability to respond that the human brain is capable of processing information even in a state where there seems to be little or no activity. I remember trying to talk to him and being at a loss for words. My sister-in-law, whom to this day is one of my best friends, and my mother and I were there at his bedside that night doing what we could with our mere presence. The complications he had endured since that seemingly simple fall and hitting of his head were legion. He contracted meningitis; he began to have seizures; and his lack of mass left him with very little to battle against these complications as he wasted away. To this day I can actually feel the shock I experienced as I entered his little cubicle. I also remember the nurses being terrifically kind. Then he began to have one seizure after another and we were scurried out of his room. We gathered in a family room and called my father who had decided to stay at home that evening because of a cough. By the time he got to the hospital, maybe a half hour later, my brother, his eldest son, a husband, and a father to three young children had passed away. My father, much as was always his way, shook his head as his eyes welled up in tears and stated softly, “It is better this way.” His body started to tremble and he began to cry. It was the first time I had ever witnessed him in tears. I was smaller then than I am and I struggled to hug him. I felt so inadequate. Carolyn, my amazingly beautiful and now 25 year old widowed, sister-in-law, merely sat there in the chair. She did not cry; she calmly and simply sat. The weight of the past six weeks and what her life was to now be seemed to crush any response she might have hoped to make. Three young children, who had not seen their father since the accident, would never see him again. There would be no closure for these little ones. There would only be our words trying to help them understand that Daddy was not coming home again. I was 21 and I was selfish and self-absorbed. I wanted to help because I felt inadequate and underprepared. I was struggling with some of my own issues, and what I know now is that I was aimless and lost. My anger had gotten the best of me in a couple of ways and there were consequences for that anger. It was something I would have to learn. Within months, that year, my grandmother, who was my hero, would also pass away. It was an unbelievably difficult time for me and I wondered in a Jobian manner if God had left me. I wondered how I could manage such grief and loss. What I would learn is those losses would prepare me for other things I had to yet experience. There was when a high school friend would lose his brother and I understood. There was when I was in a chaplaincy situation and I could understand the loss of those who were in the hospital.

There was this morning when I found out that the reason my housecleaning person missed her coffee time with me. Bekah, my amazing cleaner, came into my life by accident. I was washing clothes at the laundromat that day and she was cleaning. She was industrious, careful, and she was beautiful. The beautiful was not necessary, but it was stunning. I asked if she cleaned outside of this professional situation and she said, yes. As the saying goes, the rest is history. She has been my cleaner for the better part of 5 1/2 years. I loved coming home after she came to clean because the house smelled fabulous. Long story short. Bekah has suffered with heart issues for most of her life, and over the past year there were appointments and different doctors and different hospitals. I encouraged her as strongly as I could, without being an enormous pain, to please get something figured out. She had not gotten all the pieces together and on Tuesday of this week she had an episode. Without giving out too much information, she is in very critical condition and some of my experiences that were mentioned here are now in play again, 39 years later. Life is so incredibly normal and simultaneously fragile. We are so resilient and then with a slight change, unbelievably delicate. The veil that keeps us in this life versus the next is much more sheer than we generally realize. We seem dimly as Paul wrote, but when we are faced with the concreteness (versus the abstract) of our mortality, that veil comes crashing down and we are left to wonder how it all happened. We wake up every morning with a plan (sometimes more and sometimes less) and we expect it will just happen. Yet in the last 48 hours a family, a daughter, a mother and father, a sister, sister-in-law, and so many other friends, acquaintances, and others are left to the memories of the past and wondering painfully what the future might hold. I thought she was coming last week to clean and because I had been gone she had shuffled some things. I expected yesterday would begin as always. She would show up in her relatively new (at least to her) white bug with her gorgeous eyes and captivating smile, needing her morning coffee. We would chat about the newest drama in her life (there was always some drama, mostly because she had an incredible ability to care) and we would confer about health issues. After catching up, I would follow her to the house and she would let me know what I had forgotten as far as cleaning supplies, yet again and to work she would go.

In the last two days, I have been to the hospital each day and spoken with her parents. I have imagined all of the possibilities. It is what I do. I have prayed my prayers, asking God to do what is best. We as humans do not know what is best at times. We have our selfish preferences, and understandably so. We have the things we hope can occur. She is an amazingly strong woman and has had to be. As I write this, I know she is fighting as she always would, but how does one fight against such odds. I only wish I might have seen her one more time to remind her of how she brightens my day, of how blessed I am that she has been in my life. I am not sure what the night will bring or tomorrow. There are no promises and even fewer guarantees. What I do hope she knows, even as she seems to sleep comfortably is that so many people are in her corner. What I know she knows is that she has made a profound difference in so many peoples’ lives. What I hope she knows simply is she is loved.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin

 Good early afternoon from Starbucks in Selinsgrove,

I quick trip over to check at Best Buy to replace a cord I have lost (actually I lost an entire bag of things), and I can see Melissa, Jordan, and their father merely rolling their eyes and shaking their collective heads. This loss might be one of the more frustrating ones. Currently, I got a couple things needed and I am sitting in SB in Selinsgrove because it is the one place I can collect my free drinks. Today I have been reading about the Bulletproof diet. It seems to have a number of reasonable things, but a couple of the suggestions sound a bit extreme. Anyone reading this that has tried it?

I have another post started, but have decided to hold off on it. Part of that post is still germane, but I think I will wait a bit, as more a rhetorically appropriate thing than what I would prefer doing, which means in spite of a year or more of mistreatment, and a bit less from another, I will hold my tongue even a bit longer. The selfishness of some goes beyond what I could even imagine, but it is yet another lesson about those my father noted we could just as well do without. I am quite sure there is significant frustration on the part of the other as both immediate neighbors, at least I n terms of proximity, have little use for either the attitude or games he has chosen to play. Karma will come back, I am quite sure. The manipulation and selfcenteredness is actually quite impressive until you are on the receiving end.

This past week I have watched the debates from both parties. I think on a bad day, both “the Bern” and “Hil-yes” are more likely to understand that American public than any of the characters on the right side, save perhaps Governor Kasich, and I have to note that I appreciate Jeb Bush much more than 43. I was a bit surprised that Marco Rubio got as schooled by Governor Christie as he did in last night’s foray. I posted a quote from the Canadian Broadcasting Company on my FB page yesterday, and I have gotten quite a bit of traction from that posting. What I noted is Donald Trump has some intelligence, and I believe that, but he has no sense of appropriateness; he has no decorum and he is a bully and a terrible example of everything we teach about manners. I am reminded of what a former roommate said to rich roommate once when he seems to have no sense of his connectedness or responsibility to those with who he lived. He said, “Did you mother not hug you enough . . .?” Maybe that is the Donald’s problem. That million dollar starter loan did not make him happy for why they ignored him. I can understand if he asked like that growing up why they would want to ignore him. I can even understand that some people like him because he gives a voice to their anger about American politics. I am a bit angry too, but that does not mean I want someone with such behavior representing me on a world stage. The imminent domain exchange demonstrated again, he is a bully and can only act ridiculously when cornered with something for which he had been made responsible. While I have joked about moving if he becomes the president, I am not sure I am joking.

During the first three weeks of the semester, while I have been generally pleased with my students, I have heard comments in the hallways and walking around campus that always boggle my head. I am a senior, I should not have to read something that is so difficult (a paraphrase, but it does certainly cover the jist of their comment). I just didn’t know the answer; I didn’t study and they made the exam too hard (again a paraphrase). I have decided to not retake a class from you because it is too hard for me (again a paraphrase). There is a connecting thread, however, in these comments. Heaven for it that I should have to work hard in college to get ready for the world in which I will soon find myself. Have we honestly raised a generation of slackers? In two of the cases, I know the speakers and I know them well. My father’s admonishment of the average ringing in my ears, I know that critical thinking is so accurate. When is that point when it finally becomes clear that we are owed nothing? I note this often with my students when I speak to them about the fact that the money they pay for tuition guarantees nothing. The feminist poet, Adrienne Rich, spoken about this clearly and eloquently at Rutgers University more than a decade ago, speaking about what it means for one to “claim an education.” Merely getting by in classes, doing the C is for credit or D is for diploma, is completely asinine. What a waste of time and money. If a C is the best you can do on a given day, that is different. If you failed, but honestly tried, I am okay with that F. When you attitude is it is good enough, I have a different F for you – get out and go the F home. Don’t waste my time.i know that sounds, and is harsh, but there is so much we could give to those who are sincere, but instead I am reading papers of those who barely go through the motions. This is the problem with most 18 year olds. They are not mature enough to be in college. Yes, societally we talk them adults. Yet most of them call home almost everyday. That does not ring true of being one ready for adulthood to me. Before you see me as one who dislikes  18-21 year olds, that characterization would be inaccurate; however, I do see what many have the propensity to do. If they drink, the goal is to get drunk, and I mean seriously inebriated. Many cover letters and resumes reveal students who have little idea of how the world works or how to make their entry into it. Many see their technology as something they can expect and use however or whenever they want, without consequence. What a rude awakening when that selfie or ridiculous post comes back like the Ghost of Christmas Past. They should fear that Spector.

And yet, I cannot completely blame my students for their sometimes less than realistic outlook. Our public schools regularly give something much greater than what was earned. The consequence is setting today’s student up for a serious beatin’ of their behind. Parents’ phone calls, emails, or visits to teachers and administrators which do little more than abdicate student accountability do little to help prepare that little angel for the world that is 90 days beyond graduation. The number of students that tell me high school did little to prepare them for college is staggering,  but I am unwilling to blame it all on our school system. I think an important part of making education work begins at home. It is the parents who must instill the importance of receiving an education, but it also includes teaching and modeling respect for others. It includes supporting the school rather than blaming it for your sons’ or daughters’ failures. It means that we quit vilifying our teachers and faculty, which is a national epidemic, and believe that education is an investment in our country’s future. Where did we lose all of this and decide that testing tells us everything that is wrong? Sometimes I am glad I am well beyond middle-aged. And yet again, before I seem too cynical, I see students who work tremendously hard daily. I spent time with a thirteen year old on Saturday who asked amazingly wise questions, and coming from her, it did not surprise me. I spent time in Poland with some phenomenal students, one whose inquisitive nature and wonder provided a sense of hope beyond what I have witnessed or felt in some time. I saw one of my former youth kids from Lehighton on Saturday. She is now 38. She is a beautiful, successful, and stunning person. She understood what she needed to do for her life at the end of high school and simply did it. Just when I find myself lamenting my circumstance, I am jolted back into reality by the goodness or  kindness of another, reminding me that there is much for which I can rejoice and give thanks. Sometimes I feel like there is a sort of battle that goes deeper than we readily realize. The battle is for the collective soul of our humanity.

It is easy to wonder what if, but those are possibilities. For now, I find it more important to manage my realities. The what if can provide hope,  but dealing with reality, and doing it successfully, creates satisfaction. I guess I need both.

Thanks for reading,

Dr. Martin

Hello from my office,

When we wake up a year from now, the United States will have a new president spending their first full day as the leader of an immensely diverse populace that will have somehow determined that he or she (and at least at the moment that seems to be a distinct possibility) should be trusted to lead us into the next four years. If it were only up to that person, hard to imagine what the country would be (a monarchy or something else with a leader with such power), but there are times it would appear to be more simple. In addition we will elect (or unfortunately it seems, re-elect) the majority of the Congress once again. While I am a strong proponent of exercising my voting duty or responsibility, it is not that difficult to understand why so many people might feel disenfranchised in our current climate. The role of money, the propensity, it seems, to merely work to get reelected versus actually govern, and the increasing sense of a total lack of decorum from the great majority of our national leaders is disconcerting, maddening, and downright disappointing. I must admit that I am not as surprised as I once was when I hear my students say they do not want to pay attention to politics. Yet, when I take the time to step back, perhaps that is exactly what the majority of the asses in Washington want. If we fail to think or pay attention, they can continue to do what they are doing. Jose, it seems once again, you are more correct that I initially give you credit for being. This morning I was speaking with a former student, one to whom I give some credit for being able to think and have some sense of the world around her. When she told me she had no idea of the email issue with Hilary Clinton, I was a bit shocked. There is so much going on to which we all need to pay attention. There is so much that happens in the world that directly affects us, but as Americans, too often, we believe we are above of or immune to. If 911 did not do anything else, it should serve as a profound lesson that such a philosophy is flawed. While I am willing to believe we are certainly one of the most influential and powerful countries on the earth, to believe we are privileged in a manner as such, is short-sighted, foolish, and just plain ignorant. The adage “to whom much is given much is expected” is seemingly apropos. As I write this, it appears that the belief that Donald Trump would somehow stub his toe in a way that will hurt him has certainly not happened. If former Secretary of State Clinton thinks she is a shoo-in for the Democratic ticket, latest polls seem to illustrate that Bernie Sanders has more staying power than she might have thought possible. I have, in my own little world, thought Marco Rubio would be more poised to take control than as happened for the Republicans, and I believe that the Clinton campaign has more potential issues than they might have thought. So what does that say? Simply, I am not sure who will be inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States.

What concerns me more is that I once believed that this person could provide a sense of direction or hope for the average person like me. I honestly believed that when President Obama was elected in 2008. It was the first time I felt passionately about the electoral process. What the last 8 years has proved to me is that the amazing checks and balances system created by the founders of this country hit its limit. The legislative branch of our government is simply obstructionist. They care little about the American people and they are beholden to one thing: getting reelected. The Judiciary seems to be actually live and well. While I do not agree with every decision that has been handed down, there seems to be a reasonable balance of voices and they actually do listen to one another. I am not sure I have always felt that way. I have to think about that some more. The rhetoric of the different branches is something to consider. While this President has been persuasive at times, he has not been nearly as successful at implementing some things that need to happen as I had hoped. First, let me say that I do believe that if our educational system is not broken, it is certainly not working well. I think of the students I had in summer classes and that of 22 only a third of them are back for their second semester of college because they were so underprepared in so many ways, from emotionally to academically, from financially to psychologically. It is devastating to see what I saw in the fall. There is also the consequences of their choices in the long-term. Most have no idea what that semester has done to them. I have noted this before, but it seems we have great intention of offering these opportunities, but there is little that the students understand about the opportunity or how to manage it, and the university is woefully poor at actually doing what is needed. It so frustrates me because I feel we end up, too often, exploiting the student versus helping them. I have spoken with a number of my colleagues across the colleges and departments, so I know that I am not an island in this perception. Again, this gets back to the educational system we have, and it is suspect at all levels, and I say that as part of it. Even when I was in Europe with students during the break. There are certainly some very qualified and good students, but the lack of problem solving skills or critical analysis is frightening to me. I see too many students studying to be teachers themselves and they are mediocre students at best. This does not bode well for what will be coming. Before I sound too negative, I know that I was certainly not a stellar student at one point in my life and it took me a lot longer to mature and figure out things than most. I really do believe I was stunted in this area, and some might argue I still am. I am well aware of my propensity for wanting to see the best in the other and giving them chance upon change and that creates difficulties for me and gets me used. There is certainly a pattern for that. I am learning; it may be slowly, but I am learning.

It is ironic that one of my former summer students came in about an Undergraduate Student Research Appointment and she is looking at some of the very thing I have noted here in this blog. She is a very capable student, but is a student who was told she was less than because she is an ACT101 student. Fortunately she has never accepted that moniker or believed in that stereotype, so she has demonstrated that she is terrifically capable, but she understands the struggle of breaking out or not being limited by the perceptions of being one of “the other.” A blog that I follow here, (quartervida.wordpress.com) addressed  some of this in her blog today. I would encourage you to follow her blog as she is a thoughtful and passionate young Latina person from the city. She is worth reading. It is interesting that I have learned so much more about my own culture by trying to see the view points of those who are outside my WASP background. It might be some of the most important learning I have done in my life, a life that is committed to learning. If you read my blogs from a little more than a year ago, I was struggling with trying to understand how to manage this concept because of the struggle I was having with someone so dear to me. I have to give her a great deal of credit for helping me to get beyond my own insecurities and dependencies. It was a painful learning experience for  me, but one of the more necessary life-lessons I have probably received in the past 15 years. Tough lessons are always the most difficult, but probably the most important. I wish there was a point where we could say we have learned them all, but I know that is simply not the case. What I do wish is I could offer others more completely the (at least hopefully seen as) wisdom that 60 years have brought to those who are not close to those life experiences as of yet. There is one student in particular that I wish I could help them see some things they do not see. Their heart is the most incredibly kind heart, and there are times they write things that are insightful and demonstrate some really keen ability, but too often they do not put the time into their work that is necessary. Too often they play the helpless or less than brilliant and think that will work. Those things drive me crazy! It perpetuates the stereotypes of too many, and many of those stereotypes are gender specific. During the trip to Europe I saw such a wide array of responses to things. I know that the cultural learning was as important as the academic, and it is certainly the thing that will stay with some of the students a lot longer. It is also the thing that is, perhaps, most important. To understand another person’s culture and history is one of the most important things one can do, and it does not have to mean a trip to Europe, though that is certainly a nice option. I am still processing all of the trip myself,  but I know that what it did was whet my appetite once again to travel and learn. That is something of which I could never grow tired. That is not to say that it cannot or is not, at times, exhausting, but the positives so outweigh the negatives.

At this point, I am neck-deep into the new semester and we are only three days in. Amazing how fast it comes. I do think I will be out to eat with a colleague shortly and then I will be back in the office for a few hours yet this evening. It needs to happen and it is already necessary. So . . . while I began wondering what the next year will bring, I cannot consider those things beyond a certain point. I must first consider the rest of the day and manage it. It is neither boring nor predictable beyond a certain point. It is merely another day in my life. I am content, yet harried; I am hopeful, yet anticipatory; I am busy, yet feeling strangely calm. Alanis Morrissette, I am thinking of you and that is ironic.

Thank you for reading as always,

Dr. Martin

Good morning from Costa and Kraków.

We are down to the last 48 hours in Kraków and I got up early to do some work. Students have the morning off, though, as usual, some did not read the syllabus and were clueless about the morning schedule. Others are certainly sleeping in as I heard their frivolity as they got home about 1:45 or so this morning. Costa, by the way, is a British owned coffee company along the lines of Starbucks. I have to admit I have had coffee while I have been hear, but I have had more water and juice than anything. The weather this morning is chilly, but I heard yesterday that we might get snow by day’s end. At the moment, the sun is radiant, but deceiving as it offers little warmth. At least from my little window seat in Costa, it appears that the morning is welcoming. Both the students and I have noticed how quickly in the afternoon it becomes dark – by 4:30 or so. It makes for long nights. I am sure it is, in part, where we are in the time zone.

It is a bit early, but I am going to bed shortly. It is a day since I began this post, but I would like to finish one last posting before I pack the computer away for the trip. It has been an outstanding trip. Students have done work and managed the classes, which were not gimme classes in any way. They have been engaged in significant learning about Eastern/Central Europe and even today was another phenomenally different experience for them. They received a certificate of attendance and this award or certificate ceremony was in one of the most prestigious places in the university. As I sat in this room, it was certainly possible to feel both insignificant, but profoundly humbled to be in a place where some of the brightest and best of Europe have sat and decided things about philosophy, theology, law, medicine, astronomy, and the list could go on. What was more impressive is the Vice President of the entire Jagiellonian University spoke with our students in a personal and appealing way to encourage them to take what they had learned in the past three weeks and pay it forward to their colleagues back in the states. The warmth and camaraderie that was exhibited by these amazing gentlemen was an amazing gift. I was proud of the group, but humbled to be in this place. Again, I will post pictures from the day. Our two scholars, Dr. Annamaria Orla-Bukowska and Dr. Maciej Stroinski were also in attendance. They worked so intentionally and kindly with our students. I was blessed to sit in the presence of both these outstanding academes. There is so much I have learned and will take with me, in both an informational way, but more importantly in a cultural way.

When I was in Poland last year, it was for a brief 5 days. This time I had three weeks. If I got an appetizer last time, this time I was blessed to have a three or four course meal. Yet, it is not enough. I want to return and do some of my own work. I have spoken with the Director of the University, Dr. Piotr Horbatowski, and he has graciously given me the name of a history professor to do some work with. In addition, he is going to work with me to take an intensive Polish language class this coming summer. So I have a lot of work to do to set all of this up,  but I am incredibly excited. So much to learn and so little time. This is where  my title comes in . . . we are often provided opportunities. Thrown a rope, if you will, that allows us to experience, learn, and grow in ways never anticipated. There were four or five students in particular, on this trip, who astounded me with their academic acumen. This is in no way to say that I did not expect such a possibility, but rather, I have not been blessed enough to have them in classes. Two are political science and Russian students, one is Microbiology, one is accounting, and another is marketing. I think I have it correct. Each one of them asked important and thoughtful questions at times. Each one of them managed their academics and cultural experiences in a way that both the university and their parents should be proud of them. It was a joy to watch and listen to them; it was outstanding to see their smiles and their interactions; they give me hope that the world has the possibility of being in good hands in the next couple of generations. They were thrown a rope. There were moments they needed it to manage the balance, but for the most part, they were willing to provide that same rope for another person, both in class and out and about. While there were moments that they will remember for a lifetime, there are other moments where they had to learn things, but that is one of the most important things that can happen when one is over 4,000 miles away and the language is unknown. There were other very capable students too and as I glanced at papers as they were returned, there was some keen insights into what they have both heard and experienced. There were some good connections between what they experience as students and citizens of the United States and what they were seeing, hearing, and immersing themselves in (on a daily basis) here. Of all the students, there was one whose face lit up in ways beyond description as they walked from place to place and as they experienced the beauty that is Krakow, Prague, and beyond. They so reminded me of myself when I did my first similar experience 35 years ago at this same time. That first trip to Europe as a student was life changing and I believe the same will happen for some others. It is something that comes over one gradually. As I did 35 years ago, I felt the historical significance of so much as I listened, wandered and observed. Building over a millennium in age, borders that have been negotiated and redrawn, hallways and rooms where some of the greatest minds of all time have walked and studied: it all has a way of creating a sense of awe and wonderment that is beyond any words.

As I write this, I am in my little room with things packed and wondering what the last few hours of the trip might bring. There is little that can be done to predict. One of the students had brought a blanket from home and at 5:30 this morning I got a knock on my door because she had a fishhook embedded in her lower side. What the heck are the possibilities of such a thing? So Dr. P spent another few hours in the emergency room with yet another student. Fortunately, he is Polish/Ukrainian so language is no issue. How do you plan for such an incident? You don’t, you just manage the circumstance. That is life. It just is. My Dominican brother always says, “This is the life” (But you need his accent to really make it work :)). As I get ready to return to the States there is so much to consider and the memories of the trip will almost instantly be pushed into the recesses and other more pressing issues will take precedence. There is only about 48 hours after the return that I will be back in class and in front of people. There is a lot to do and then there is managing being away from Bloomsburg for three weeks to begin with. I know if I come back there are so many logistical things I will have to plan and manage. I have my little ear-buds in and I am listening to Irish music sitting in Poland. If I do accomplish getting back here, which I do intend to do, I think a trip to the British Isles will have to be in the mix as well as a trip to see Elena in Murcia. That was certainly a highlight of this trip. To meet face to face with my former student and see how much she has grown and to learn more about her life as a city engineer was such a wonderful gift to me. She is such an outstanding and fun person. She is serious, but has this playful side. Watching her in the snow was magical.

So how do we use the rope we are offered in life? How do we use it as a lifeline for those around us? How do we use it to bind ourselves to one another for the common good? Those are things I have wondered as I have listened to the millennial-old plight of the Hebrew people. What does it mean when they have been discriminated against because they value literacy? What does it mean when they have been discriminated against because they value their faith and the promise given to them by their creator? What does it mean when they have been discriminated against because their faith required washing and food that kept them safer than most from the infamous plague that swept Europe in the 13th and 14th centuries? I so admire my Jewish brothers and sisters in ways I could have never before this class and the amazing overview provided by Dr. Annamaria. Her knowledge and insight is second to none. It seems even yet it would take a miracle to change our human propensity to fear the different, to ostracize the other. I am reminded as I listen to Celtic Woman once again of this song.

How do we make this change in our own lives? One of the things that currently gives me hope is so many of my students are willing to accept diversity in ways my generation could or would not. It is such an interesting dichotomous behavior. I watched them need to speak with their parents on almost a daily basis, which is something most 18-22 year olds of my generation could not imagine, and yet they are willing to understand the complexity of humanity in ways we could not fathom. This is the rope that binds us together as a community, a community of humans, of brothers and sisters who are related by our DNA and not our color, our faith, our orientation, or language. These are the things that give me hope. And with that, I will offer yet a second video from this amazing group that brings me back to my ethnic roots and expands my desire to visit that Emerald Isle in ways I cannot begin to verbalize. To Jaclyn, Meredith, Illiana, and Nick . . .  this is for you.

To the others, thank you as always for reading and use that rope to care and help the other.

Dr. Martin

Hello from the bus once again,

We have completed our two days in the Czech capital of Praha (the Czech spelling of Prague). Yesterday we were in various areas of Prague, the new area, the palace area, and we walked through some of the lesser area. Today we spent most of our time in the Jewish area (known as Josefov). While I thought I had some understanding and appreciation for Jewish culture, the humility and admiration I have for them now is exponentially increased. Their history is so complicated, so tortured, and simultaneously so consistent, so understandable, if one merely considers it and the repeating scenes with some sense of continuity and analysis. Because of my background with Hebrew and my study of Biblical scholarship, what I have come to realize is how narrowly I was seeing them. Even though I had a pretty strong sense of how their faith was (and is) connected to their identity, I have come to realize that there is so much more there. From their language to their study of scripture, from their ritual requirements throughout their daily lives from birth to beyond death, from the cultural stigma imposed upon them to their important contributions to any society where they might end up living, the giftedness the Jewish community offers to the whole is tremendous. That is merely the beginning of what both the classroom and the larger contextual classroom had taught me. I wish I would have been much better in my learning Hebrew in seminary than I was. If I had done even 50% as well as I did in Greek the trip would have been even more amazing than it has been.

Today I had the opportunity to visit another Jewish cemetery and these visits are once more something that humbles me, but connects me to the centuries of life that has preceded me. To know that some of this was from as year as the 14th or 15th centuries means that the continuity of Judaism cannot be discounted nor ignored. At the same time Luther was questioning the Catholic Church, this Jewish community was maintaining a life and tradition that began with Abraham, Issac and Jacob. As Christians, be they Roman, Orthodox, or Protestant, try to understand their two-millennium  history, the Jewish people with their promise to Abraham in Genesis 15:6 had already been faithful to their God for over a millennium. It is those sort of realizations that move me to want to study and understand even more about that faith upon which other monotheistic faiths must see as their religious parent or ancestor. If other monotheistic believers truly consider their foundations, the fact that the Jewish faith continues to be so maligned should be  ludicrous, at least to me. . . . By the time I got back to the room from our bus trip back to Krakow, I had no energy to finish this posting and today has been a bit hectic, It is now early morning on the 12th, but I want to get some more things written. Today, gratefully, we spent more time in the Eastern European Culture course examining the history of Judaism and, more specifically today, its expansion from what would now be referred to as orthodoxy to some of the changes that would become both part of the Hassidic movement as well as the reformed movements within the Jewish faith. Learning the differences as well as their subsequent points in a historical dating was quite helpful to me. I am thoroughly mesmerized by what I am learning about this faith of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Tonight was another night at dinner and that was yet another dining experience. I love listening to, and learning from, students. What makes the quartet of dining experimenters so enjoyable is a profound appreciation for good cuisine and being willing to step outside a comfort zone. It takes a mature and thoughtful person, especially when it comes to food, to take those chances. There are so many people who miss out on amazing options. Food, after language, is, for me, the most truthful and culturally appropriate way to learn about another person and their identity. Our choices about, and our preparation of, food say so much about what we value as well as where we see ourselves in the world. Paul Mabrey, a food blogger, writes, “Food is part of our identity performance. What you eat, how you eat it, where you eat it, where your food was produced; each aspect is part of your identity. Taste might a great example of the relationship between food and identity performance. Taste, like any of the characteristics of our identity, is not natural. Taste does not come from our genes or biology. Taste is taught, learned and performed. Tastes change” (You are what you eat). The name of the posting is certainly a bit cliché, but nonetheless, I believe that Mr. Mabrey is spot on in what he notes about our eating habits. Some of you know that I tried to eliminate processed sugar from my diet. I did quite well for about 14 or 15 months, but it is time to double-down and renew my efforts. I also need to get back on the regiment that I was one pretty carefully for more than a year. One thing that has been good is I have walked more in the last two and a half weeks than I probably did in the previous year. I think what amazes me is I am continuously bombarded by beauty at every turn. It is not that every sight I observe is gorgeous, but rather that the comprehensive experience of all the senses offers this sort of time-travel through more than a millennium. It is both realistically and virtually impossible to process all of it. This morning in the basilica (and this was my second visit) all I could think is I need to come back yet again to truly appreciate the overwhelming beauty of this place of worship. I have posted pictures on my FB page and will put together an album on Instagram yet today. All of this takes longer than anticipated, however, because the use of the internet is so different here than what we are used to in the United States. (It is actually Wednesday almost midnight here as I continue to write this and two sentences before, it was about 36 hours earlier.) Yesterday, we took a tour of a section of Krakow called Nowa Huta (please see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nowa_Huta). This area of Krakow was a city actually planned out and designed by Stalin as the ultimate socialist experimental city. We spent a good part of the afternoon there and while some of us were on a sort of luxury mini-bus, others took turns being driving in Trabants, a little car built in the former East Germany. It was a little two-stroke pregnant roller-skate little thing that was loud and soot-bellowing in its exhaust. It was supposedly able to hold four adults and luggage, but you better pack lightly.  I think it would be a serious hoot to have one of these things. We did get a tour around the town, which was put together outside of a steel factory, which is still in operation. The town itself has about 200,000 inhabitants, but was built as the model socialist city. We went into a typical apartment and a restaurant. It was like stepping into a history book.

Today, Dr. P. and I had the opportunity to meet with the Director of Jagiellonian University. I spoke to him about my research and writing project and he was quite supportive in helping me see if I can get someone in the history department to work with me because it would take archival work. He also spoke really specifically about my working on learning Polish, which would be amazing. I think it would be an interesting spring and summer and beyond. This is so exciting for me. The world is both complex, but amazingly manageable if one will take the time to communicate and listen. I think that is the problem for many. There is noise being made, but little actual communication . . .  and that does not even begin to address the issue of listening. It is one thing to hear someone; it is something quite different to truly listen to them. This is something I essentially say when I note in the writing process that understanding audience is so much more than “saying or writing want you want.” It is much more important to realize what it is they need to hear or read. One of the things I am working on is to listen more and speak less. That is not an easy thing for me because sometimes (way too often) I let my mouth get in front of my brain. That is not the easiest thing for me to admit, but  it happens. I am reminded of a woman who did my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) rotation with me and she (her name was Anna Clock-truly it was) wrote in her final evaluation of me that I needed to speak less and listen more. She was correct and probably still is. She was an amazingly wonderful colleague that summer of CPE, the summer of 1984. It is actually the first time I have thought of her in many years. There is another complexity of our lives. People come in and they move out. Sometimes it is merely geography; sometimes it is because of other things. However, each one leaves something for us, but all too often we fail to see those minute, but significant gifts their presence brings. At times, we are fortunate enough, blessed enough to reconnect. That has happened to me as of late. In fact, as I am writing this, I am also messaging a former classmate. She was a person for whom I had more admiration and interest than known at the time. It has been such a joy to merely write back and forth and share insights and reflections. I am reminded of my friends, Lee and Judy Swenson. Judy once told me that she had probably loved more than one person in her life with whom she could have been happily married to that one, but the timing was not right. She is such a wise lady. They are an example of two people who even now inspire me. They have taught me more and guided me more than they will ever realize. Little did I know that the summer of 1978 would bring two such amazing people into my life. We have so little idea of what will influence or change us. We have so little control of who comes and who goes. There is a complexity in that, but there is also a remarkable simplicity in that. All we need to do is take the time to observe, listen, and process.

There has been a lot of that for me in the past three weeks as I have traveled with 30 students and a wonderful colleague. While there have been moments of amazement for a plethora of reasons, there are so many remarkable and capable students on this trip. It has been inspiring and there have been wonderful moments of realization and joy. As the hours are ticking off and soon, the time that was Europe with be a memory for these students. It is also a life-changing event for me because I am better off by their collective experiences and sharing with me. I know that my life was changed 35 years ago during another January as I traveled to Europe. It is amazing that I am on the other side of that equation today, but I am just as amazed and excited as I was then. The initial picture is of a seriously-customized little Trabi . . .  not quite like the ones we were in yesterday, but I would love to have one.

Thanks for reading!

Dr. Martin