thewritingprofessor55

Unexpected – Safe Harbors

Good early morning,

I began this last night on my iPad, but it seems that each device has something unique to it and until I put together a post on it and figure out some things, I will invariably erase what I have written. Fortunately last night it was only a paragraph or so. I think it was a good paragraph, but nonetheless, it has been transformed into anti-matter and I must begin again. I do know that what I began with last night was “I must not listen as attentively as I think I do or that my comprehension skills are certainly much less adept that I realized.” I came to realize that I made a serious mistake in the use of my hermeneutical abilities or perhaps much like things can be reassessed or reconsidered, there has been a change in plans or intentions. It is always interesting in how we come to perceive a particular situation and then there is the “really understanding it”. What I know about myself is that I have this, perhaps unfortunate, problem of believing that other people’s intentions are honorable or admirable. In spite of being proven wrong time and time again, I seem to fall into that trap.

I think it is because I did not want to live my life suspicious and unhappy. I did not want to believe that everything had a price tag and that nothing was ever done without some ulterior motive. I grew up around that and it was toxic. I believe it is toxic. When we spend our entire lives making sure no one gets the best of us, that is precisely what happens. No one ever sees what is best in us because we hide it away afraid to show it because of the potential hurt. As a consequence we miss opportunities to really shine and we allow the real goodness in us to be swept away or shoved into a closet never to be found, until like some dusty artifact or remembrance, someone stumbles across it. However, much like a corroded penny in a junk drawer, there is no luster and it appears to be less valuable than it really is.

It is even more amazing to see how that sort of mindset robs us of our potential and keeps us from accomplishing that of which we might actually be capable. I might go as far as to say I am stunned as I ponder how, in spite of this fundamental lack of trust, one appears to manage things with such a sense of grace, decorum, and beauty. I wonder if there is any limit to what one is capable when such giftedness seems to be merely common place for them. I want to believe the good intentions, but my logical side scream out for me to remember the humanness in all of us, that we are not altruistic; we are certainly not unconditional. Is being safe selfish? Probably not . . . at least when one is trying to maintain safety out of fear. But when being safe is a conscious mindset or lifestyle does it become selfish? Again, perhaps not, but the consequences of it can most assuredly seem selfish or appear so. When words are measured and ambiguity under the guise of trying to be fair or see both sides happens, it seems what we have created is a convenient way out of any situation. I am reminded of a quote by William G.T. Shedd. He said, A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for.” It is such a true statement, but we as humans are so frightened to take chances, or important chances. We will take chances on foolish things or spur of the moment things, but when it comes to something of substance or importance, we shy away. In fact, perhaps we run away.

I just had a great chat with my niece in Iowa. She is such an insightful and enjoyable person. She also has some first hand knowledge of the situation so it was helpful to hear her perspective on my last 18 hours. She helped me see it from a different perspective. It is a perspective that I know and, to some extent, I understand, but it is getting caught off guard by it. I think that is what overwhelms me at moments. I would like to believe that I am intelligent and insightful, but then moments like this last day occur and I find myself questioning if I understand or know anything. One of the things I have gotten better at it to write and wait a bit before I hit send. I wrote a pretty lengthy, what has become “ein typisch schrift”, but I will ponder it. The other thing I have learned is to become more protective of myself. While I am still not where my mother was, I think I am a bit more careful. In speaking with my niece, she reminded me of a number of things, but she sees it everyday in her own life, so it is commonplace for her. My being alone for so long has isolated me from some of that and my lack of experience in certain realms is certainly apparent to me, but I guess I cannot instinctively know everything about everything, but I sure wish I could. I noted in my last posting that some of the relatives and colleagues are coming to visit. When I wrote the last post, I did not have dates. Now I do. It seems July just got a lot busier. It will be nice to have them here.

I wonder how I was perceived when I was twenty-something? I do remember my older brother really laying into me one day when I had not done somethings I should have done around the house (I was just out of the service) and I had to be 20 or almost 21 because my brother was still alive and it was late summer. My father was out mowing the yard in the heat and humidity and I should have been doing it. I was taking my father for granted in a way, most likely without realizing it, but it was because I was pretty self-centered at the time. I had my agenda and I did not really consider how my actions affected the others around me. Unfortunately, if I am to be really honest in my assessment of myself then, I am not sure I really worried too much about it. On the other hand, later in my life, I think I worried too much about it. Now I am trying to moderate and find that happy medium. I am not sure I accomplish that as well as I would like, but I am making small steps.

What makes us safe? What keeps us safe? These are questions I will ponder for the next couple of days. Perhaps I might find an answer and write about it soon. The next blog will be to do what I promised Sr. Galán I would do. That one will take some thought and some soul-searching, but a promise is a promise.

Thanks for reading.

Michael

Wondering How and When

Good morning,

While I woke up at my usual early time, I did not get up as soon after awakening as I often do. I finished on night out on my porch and must have fallen asleep in one of the rocking chairs. It seems I must be one of the more elderly members of The Walton’s . When I came in I just crawled into bed and went to sleep. I was hoping for a restful night, but it seems my body had different plans. Between another round of fevers and an unhappy digestive system, it was not one of my more pleasant beginnings to a day. I am still quite sure that I detest vomiting (sorry) more than most anything.

Last weekend was one of the nicest three day periods I have had in a very long time. To celebrate the day in another way with the gifts offered by all of the Galán’s meant more than any words could begin to express. The PowerPoint created by Jordan and Melissa was both hilarious and meaningful; the wine-themed gifts for the house are awesome; and the simple, but profound words, both in speech and writing, still create a lump in my throat. I am blessed.

I think a morning earlier this week might be a preview of what is to come, but I am trying to figure out the balance. Balance is such an important thing and something to which we often pay too little heed. What gives one a sense of balance is ever-changing and for that reason it might be something that is all that more fleeting or hard to accomplish. In addition, I think it is even harder to maintain. I want to manage that balance the best I can in the given situation and that means trying to merely go on doing what I do, but it seems that my body and I are a odds. I am reminded of the Ghost of Christmas Future in The Christmas Carol when Scrooge exclaims, I fear you more than any specter I have yet seen.” I do not think it is the end of which I am afraid, it is more the not knowing exactly how and when. I imagine we all struggle with that idea.

This past week I have had the opportunity to speak with my cousin and I think she is coming to visit. That will be a wonderful thing. I am not sure on the dates, but I am sure that it might be sooner rather than later. That makes me happy. My former colleague, her husband, and son are supposed to come soon also. Though I have not heard the exact dates. There is a lot occurring in the next couple weeks between visits (hoped for) and yearly celebrations, I think there is a lot to prepare for. I think that might serve me well. I am also excited that all the Deckers will be back in town this coming week. I have missed all of them more than words might express. As is often the case, I might not really understand the depth of my missing of them all until they are here and I have a chance to catch up with them. I am still supposed to consider a trip to Spain, but I am not sure because of the larger picture how to manage that. Today is a day where I feel I could sleep most of the day, but that is not how I want to spend my days.

I do have some things I want to get accomplished today, including cleaning the house, cleaning the refrigerator, and I need to go over to the other house and do a little work. I think it is again a question of balance. I need to get somethings done and while I have probably been the most laid-back I have been in years for the last month, I also struggle with that sense of guilt for being lazy. Again, it is always interesting how the head and the heart are not always on the same page (for me it seems they are seldom there). I have so much I still want to accomplish yet this summer, but how much of it will make a difference in the long term? That is always a question for me: what ultimately makes a difference for another person? What might profoundly affect him or her in a manner that their life is significantly (and hopefully positively) changed? I was reflecting on the conversation I had with Sr. Galán yesterday and what he shared about his life and what he thinks about life at this point. It is always interesting to listen to another perspective (and particularly when the person has such passion about life and truth). He has so much to consider. I feel like my life is pretty simple. I merely have to go about my work and my life. Sure, others are affected by me, but not in the same way. Much like when I left Wisconsin, there was one person in particular whose life was profoundly affected, but otherwise, that town is not really any different. I think it is the reality be ultimately being a single person and a person who never had children. While I am sure that a few people might lament my absence, in the long-term or the larger picture, life will continue and I am not so arrogant or prideful to believe that other’s lives will be profoundly altered by my presence or absence. Perhaps that is the most important gift that I or anyone can offer in a profound way. I merely hope that people can go on with their lives.

There is one person in particular that I wonder what it might have been like had she lived longer and that is my grandmother, Louise. I wonder what we might have thought of each other later in life of how we might have interacted. What I do know is that I did not visit her the last time I promised to do so. I remember calling her from a phone booth on Highway 71 (I think that is the highway going into Atlantic, IA). It was next to a Hardee’s Fast Food Restaurant and I called an apologized for not coming to see her. That was the last time I actually ever spoke with her I think. I still have a sweater that she bought me the last Christmas she was alive. I have never been able to part with it. What I know is that I loved her as much as I have ever loved someone, a relative and someone who actually made a profound difference in my life. I wish I still had all the letters she wrote to me in the service. I remember one in particular where she apologized for having to give my sister and me up for adoption. She knew of the abuse we endured and she felt terrifically guilty for subjecting us to that. I am not sure I have ever said this, but Grandma, I forgive you. I love you. What I know now and this is through a pretty amazing conversation I had last week, that I need to forgive more and try to understand more. That will be in a forthcoming post.

While there is certainly more on this version of a “convoluted mind”, I think I will pause.

Thanks for reading.

Michael

La atención a los detalles

Buenas días de Hazleton,

Last night I had an opportunity, thanks to the gift of a ticket, to see the USAF jazz band at the old senior high school in Hazleton, PA. I went with Señor y Señora Galán y Melissa. The ticket was a gift from their other daughter, Mery. The venue was simply outstanding. The music was superb and they played to a full-house. At the end of the event they called attention to veterans of the various services and we were asked to stand when our particular branch’s song was played. It was quite moving as a veteran to be among other veterans. Most of us, myself included, do not really call attention to our service on a regular basis. It is something I did when, as I have previously noted and for all practical purposes, I was still a boy. I sometimes do reflect both on what I did during that time (the same time most young people are now in college) and how it affected me. I would like to say I was an amazing Marine, and while I did do some important things and was even meritoriously promoted, for the most part, I merely did my job. I think of my friend who lost his life, in fact, right next to me. He was a hero, and yes, a19 year old boy like me. I have from time to time felt guilty that I am still here almost 40 years later and he is not. Then I am reminded of a refrain that now rings through my ears on a regular basis: everything happens for a reason. There is only one problem with that statement. I WANT to KNOW the reason and I want to know NOW.

As I sit and write this I am listening to elderly gentlemen speak about the concert. We began to chat about it. That was very cool. After the concert, I went grocery shopping and at this point I try to listen and comprehend what is being spoken (en Español) around me. Unfortunately both because of my (way too) limited vocabulary and limited experience of listening (and the speed of their spoken words) I miss much more than I catch. It is good experience for me nonetheless. I did get a chance to meet some other people last night that might offer more opportunities to work on this acquisition of yet another language. Perhaps I need to start putting in about 4-6 hours a day. That would be helpful. In addition, maybe I need to just take my chances and go to Spain like I had planned. Something to ponder. If I do not, I think I will regret that decision. On the other hand, there is a certain risk in traveling at the moment. As usual, no decision is made in a vacuum.

The paying attention to detail, the title of this post, it something that was a basic tenet of existence in the Marine Corps and something that has never really been far from how I practice my life ever since. It is that attention that might be why I am still alive. As I noted earlier, I still have moments where I remain with a sense of guilt or questioning why it was not me that was killed that day. It is both interesting to consider and then to talk about it a bit after not really thinking, and certainly not talking, about it for a long time. Sometimes I think my life has been merely ordinary, and then there are times I am not so sure. What is ordinary?

Hoy fue otro día en el que tengo la suerte de hacer más recuerdos. Fue un día de compartir con uno de mis hijos sustitutos. Fue un tiempo para hablar de cosas que son importantes y que dan cuenta de la realidad de nuestras vidas individuales. Pasamos todo el día (y la noche) a hablar de una amplia gama de temas. Él es más como una esponja que su hermana. Aunque desde luego empapa las cosas, yo creo que él guarda las cosas para un día de lluvia para reflexionar. Él es más tipo el Pablo Friere’banking ‘en la forma en que recoge y procesa las cosas. Es muy diferente de su hermana. Ella, por su parte, reflexionó y procesos inmediatamente (si es posible, que es el procesamiento antes de que incluso golpea el reino de la realidad). Mientras que él está dispuesto a dejar la mayor parte todo al azar, que es diametralmente de contrario. Sin embargo, hay otras maneras en que usted podría pensar que eran mellizos. Como señalé mucho más temprano en la primavera, su amor por los demás es realmente una alegría para experimentar.

It is now Sunday morning and I am up and out early. In spite of sitting up and chatting until after 1:00 a.m., I was awake at 5:35 a.m.. So I am up and running some errands. I have been asked to remain here today and it is Father’s Day, so I want to get something for Sr. Galán. I also need to reflect a moment, and then some, about my own father, Harry Martin. He would be 99 years old right now, is he were still with us. He was my adopting father, but he never once treated as anything less than his own. I was blessed, and have continued to be so, because he wanted to bring me into his home. Thank you, Dad. I still love you and I miss your indefatigable smile and love; I miss your wisdom and wit; I hope I have made you proud. I think I will stop because I am sitting in McDonalds with tears streaming down my face.

Jordan y Melissa, gracias por permitirme experimentar en cierto modo el don de ser un padre sustituto. Es el más cercano siempre vendré a la comprensión de este día desde el otro lado.

Thanks for reading.

Michael

41 Years and a Walking Oxymoron

Good evening, good morning, good next day,

I am sitting in my study after a day of working on cars and bikes and doing some cleaning, a day of planting and working in the yard, and a day of washing clothes, some planned and some unplanned. While I was up pretty early, that is the norm for me. I cannot sleep the day away, but I have always been that way from the time I was a small child. When it is light, I am up; it matters not if I went to bed only a few hours before, I will be awake and the idea of falling back to sleep is not within the realm of possibility. I will admit to my usual 45 minute power-nap later in the day. I got most of what I wanted to get done in the yard and around the house completed, so that is a nice feeling. I have spent that last hour and a half working on my Spanish, both with the computer and with flashcards. I need to work harder than I have. I have a lot I want to learn in the next weeks.

It is hard for me to believe that it was 44 years ago that I was confirmed at Riverside Lutheran Church by our interim pastor, the Reverend T. P. Solem and that it was 41 years ago today that I walked across the stage as a member of the first graduating class of West High School in Sioux City, Iowa. I was such a little boy at that time. Even though I had already enlisted in the Marine Corps, I was certainly not ready for what would come some 27 days later as I took my first flight from Omaha to Denver and Denver to San Diego. Amazing the changes I have undergone. I think the most significant change or realization is what I deem important. I have often said what I thought was important (and now I might say 41 years ago) at one point does not seem so very important now and things I thought were “not” so important have begun of the utmost importance. I have learned that you can have all the “stuff” in the world, but none of that really matters. In the 30 years that I have been fighting this Crohn’s issue, I have learned that when you do not feel good or when your health is not good, nothing else really matters because you are not able to enjoy those things, whatever they might be. There have been days and even some weeks where I was in so much pain or so ill that I merely existed. That is not really life; it is just going through motions of living. Again, all the stuff or money in the world will not change that. I often think of the way that life changed for the late Christopher Reeves because of a chance-accident. He was successful, wealthy, handsome (he was Superman), and in an instance, it all changed.

Okay, so as often the case, I started this post, but did not get it completed. So it is now Tuesday, and I was awake earlier than I wanted, but that might be the new norm. It might be good that I waited a few days before I finished this as I have a better perspective on a couple of things. Over the last couple days I did some work to help a student for whom I have some great appreciation. That situation has forced me to consider why people go to college and whether college (or at least the undergraduate aspect of it) should really be considered mandatory. Even as a college professor I cannot answer this query in the affirmative. When we allow under-prepared students for whom the university receives a lot of money, come with little chance of succeeding, I believe we are guilty of exploitation. It is wrong and it is unethical. That is the situation in which this student currently resides, if you will. Something better must happen or the student ends up 10s of thousands of dollars in debt with little chance of ever obtaining a degree. Furthermore, because of that debt, their chance of ever getting to return is minimal at best. It is my hope that we have come up with a better option.

People often lament that they wish they could know what they know at some point later in their life and go back and re-do or start over. I am not one of those people. If I would have known all that would happen to me, I am not completely sure I would have wanted to continue. In addition, and I do understand the following statement might make me sound even older than I am, I am certainly sure I would not want to be venturing out into the world as a “20-something” right now. As I write today I find myself trying to understand some new version of what or who God is. Nothing significant, right? I am imagining how Anselm must of struggled with that question. I am struggling with wanting to know what will happen in the next weeks, or hopefully months, and then not wanting to know anything at all. However, as I was reminded in a conversation again last night: “everything happens for a reason”, and their somewhat logical extension of that was ” then there are no miracles”. I see some truth in the progression of those two ideas, but perhaps the question is must we disregard, or do we then lose appreciation for that which appears miraculous, because we are unaware of the reason? If we jettison the miraculous, does that affect our ability to hope? I think that might be the next conversation. Or at least a starting point. As I pondered the two days of conversations, it seems to be another form (and I am not really comfortable with that word) of a sort of religious humanism, a different strain of rationalism, but one that demonstrates a more profound appreciation for the numinous. By the way, it is now Wednesday morning and I am still writing. That might be a new record for blog-procrastination. The picture is of me on my ordination day in my religious trappings, if you will.

I will say this, I am continually amazed by Melissa’s thought processes. Certainly not typical of someone her age, or at least of the overwhelming majority of people her age. I have teased that she is a 50 year old in a 22 year old body. After being around her the last few days, she also has a part of her that is about 70. I am sure she’ll appreciate that, but it is there. I also know she won’t ask me what I mean even though she does read this. Escucharle y reloj como su proceso de pensamiento trabaja es realmente una alegría. Si sólo una gente más tomara el tiempo para hacer lo que usted hace, creo que nuestra sociedad estaría en un mejor lugar. Gusta me realmente su postura que tenemos la capacidad, y estoy de acuerdo que hay un tiempo y un lugar cuando la gente podría entender finalmente esto. Lo que es milagroso es que usted lo ha hecho tan temprano en la vida. That is why I think she is a walking oxymoron. There are so many ways she is way beyond and seems to be an older soul, but when listening to her music or some of the other things she says and watching what she does or does not do, it is not logical to me. Of course, it is not her job, nor anyone’s for that matter, to be such. However, as she noted last night in her questioning, why does everything have to be logical? I guess she is right. Perhaps it is because I find comfort in logic. Maybe we all just walking oxymorons.

Thanks for reading.

Michael

One More Time

Good early morning,

I have gone to bed for the day, but my brain seems to be in overdrive. It is
early morning now . Part of that is due to life’s circumstance, part of it is because of the night’s conversation, and, yet again, part of it is because of my reflecting on the death of Dr. Maya Angelou, one of the more influential voices of this time, or perhaps the last generation. I remember reading many of her pieces in both my second Master’s process and during my doctoral work. One of my best friends, and one who has allowed me to serve as a mentor, posted the following quote on her Facebook timeline earlier today. “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time” (Angelou).

Poets have the ability to reach inside our souls and reveal the thoughts or words we are too frightened to think much less speak. I am always amazed by the person who says ” I don’t need to read that poem or play or story or novel or . . . often to be followed by the idea that they cannot relate to it or it has no relevance to their life. I must again thank all the professors at Dana, who taught in the humanities program, especially Luella Nielsen and Norman Bansen, for helping me see that relevance. I think of my colleague now, Jerry Wemple, who takes the seemingly ordinary from the annals of his life and history and gives them relevance and beauty. There is beauty in each of our lives, real and profound beauty. Yet too often it goes unnoticed because we get caught up in “the other”.

Is it we get caught up through necessity, through a misguided sense of importance? What must happen for us to reorient our focus? I think that answer varies from person to person. Sometimes that impetus comes from within, but more often than not, I believe it is thrust upon us, either knowingly by others who care for us, or by a sort of crashing together of events or things, perhaps seemingly random, but maybe more determined that meets the eye. The how and why is not really as important as the what we do with that impetus, with that opportunity. What is perhaps more important, once again, is whether or not we can see the value in the event.

This is where the importance of rhetorical strategy and delivery take center stage. Too often the delivery or the circumstance in which the message is given or received can overshadow the significance of the message. There have certainly been times in my life where all the best intentions in the world could not allow the message being either offered or taken in have a “snowball’s chance” because either I spoke ineffectively or listened even more poorly. I have most undoubtedly been the victim of my own limitations this past semester. Amazing to see how one event (perhaps even somewhat salvific in nature) has caused me to reconsider a number of things . . . And that event is in the chance meeting of yet another, not in some profound news or information.

We are provided chances or placed in circumstances on a regular basis where we are offered the chance to make a difference. Too often we allow them to pass, either because we are unaware or because we are too frightened to do something. I have missed chances due to a number of reasons. Somehow, I have been given yet one more time, an opportunity. It might seem a bit of a stretch, but I am reminded of Eninem’s theme song from the movie, 8 Mile. Of course, when I worked for Chrysler in the Detroit area, I had the occasion to drive up and down that road. We have a chance an opportunity. Unfortunately, contrary to the rather specific lyrical line about “failure”, too often we do. But what is failure? Is failure permanent or something passing? If we learn from the past, from those things less than successful, have we still failed? Perhaps that is a topic for another posting.

One of the more profound things I heard last evening (and this has been a regular mantra) was “I try to be fair. I try to see all the sides.” What a wise thing, and an exceedingly complex thing, to do. It is certainly not something most do easily or if at all, and particularly when the issue strikes close. Too often our emotions cloud our vision or our ability to think. Clarity of either vision or voice is a struggle. However, it is amazing how this is the rule rather than the exception in this case. So yet, one more time, there is an opportunity for hope (esperar). I have learned the word in Spanish means both wait and hope. How appropriate. There can be no hope without a process and without hope there would be no reason to wait. Waiting, expecting, believing: each require patience; each can offer hope.

So one more time I will say thanks for teaching me. Thanks for mentoring me; thanks for tutoring me. I am glad to be a student of yours.

Thanks for reading. It’s 4:30 and time to sleep a bit.

Dr. Martin

Creating Memories

Good morning on a cloudy and humid day,

This morning began early 4:23 a.m. to be exact. It seems an aspirin taken to manage a fever last evening decided to raise havoc with my stomach. So after a bit of puttering around the house this morning, including a load or two of laundry, I went to the diner for breakfast. I thought some food might alleviate the upset stomach. No such luck. I am afraid this morning is a harbinger of what is to come. I detest throwing up more than most anything in the world.

I worked on a number of necessary tasks yesterday and today will be more of the same. This afternoon I am meeting with a Lutheran Brotherhood (my old school term)/Thrivent agent to make sure some things are in order. I want to try to make sure that some day I leave no debts or problems for others to have to manage. This past week, the fact that my sister did not do this so well came back to haunt me. It is one of those moments when I am aware that I am almost 60 and then I am trying to figure out how I got this old. I know that 60 is not old, but when I was in my teens or even perhaps my early 20s, it certainly seemed a long ways away.

As those who really know me are aware, I am a process person. I have to figure out how things work and why they work that way. I wish I had answers for some of that now? “Why am I still here?” is one of those questions. I have been told by more than one doctor “you are a miracle”. I have never really felt that miraculous. Perhaps a bit of an anomaly, but that is I guess because I think that I think differently. I have been trying to figure that out. How and why did that happen? I think merely trying to live each day as a someone who wanted to make some small difference kept me most often from thinking about who I was or what I was about. I don’t really think most of us are that different. We merely go about our lives.

That brings me to my focus (the title of today’s post). Some of my earliest memories are of my grandparents and living at their house as a little boy. The best memory is of breakfast and soft poached eggs, a half of grapefruit, and a piece of some kind of toast (from the various bread options from her bakery). What is perhaps the most important memory or realization of my living at or visiting my grandmother’s house was that she loved me, and she loved me regardless. I am still amazed by her capacity to love and give. She, in spite of her difficulties, never quit giving. I remember the summer I lived at her house between my junior and senior year of high school. I think I grew up more that summer than I have actually realized. I worked at the bakery from 5:00 or 5:30 in the morning until about 3:00 in the afternoon. Then I went to a second job and worked from 5:00 in the evening until midnight or so . . . and I did that 6 days a week. It is actually one of my favorite summers. I was all of 16 years old and I never felt like I was working too hard or had it rough. I bought my first car and I learned that hard work was an okay thing. I am not sure I always remembered those lessons as well as I might have.

In my elementary and into middle school (as they call it now) years, I think my best memories are being in the Sioux City Children’s Community Theatre and in the Sioux City Children’s Choir. A fellow member of both groups was a girl named Miriam Oesper. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She was the first person to kiss me. I was so amazed and frightened. She was an amazing person. I still remember her birthday (March 3rd). Her family moved to Des Moines (Urbandale to be exact) and I never saw her again. I did actually catch up with her by email a few years ago. Amazing how the memories and even the feelings of she must be wonderful were still there somehow. However, unlike some I know, if it is in the past, it is probably best to leave it there. There was also another person from that group and her name was Carolyn Wayman. She was another person I found to be wonderful: smart, funny, and beautiful. I have wondered from time to time about many of those theatre persons. I realize that experience was more important to me than I ever imagined.

When I came home from the service, there are memories, and perhaps the most important one immediately was meeting the Peters family. David and I still communicate until this day. His sister, Barb, was the first person I might have really loved. I remember this picture of her (it was a school picture) with the most amazingly beautiful long hair. I can still see it clearly. I also learned an important lesson to never like your best friend’s sister. However, emotions are seldom rational. There are certainly memories from beyond high school and into college and other places, but they sometimes seem to blur together and I am not sure that there is something that really jars my memory or emotions the same way. Perhaps my trip to Europe with Dr. Nielsen during the January interim class of 1981. Interestingly, again, when I think about the events, there are so many things that flood back . . . . Lutheran Youth Encounter (LYE) team, summer Greek class, East Germany, Oberammergau, Denmark, Garmisch Partenkirken, meeting biological relatives, college, graduate_school). Over the past week, I have connected with my cousin to chat about things. I noted her in my last post. She has been kind and texted me almost every day since our talk last week. She noted that I am the one who really understands her. She is one of the few who has always accepted me. The memories . . . Grandpa’s, Firefall, The Marina, the white Buick Regal or the green Cadillac.

As I noted, I have a number of tasks to try to manage today and some time will be spent in my office organizing and getting things off my plate. I also have to go to the bank and get some more things managed there. I am merely hoping for a productive day. Over the weekend I had the opportunity to spend Memorial Day with Mr. and Mrs. Galán. I had the most wonderful food and the greatest conversation on a number of levels. At one point, Mrs. Galán and I spoke for about 45 minutes. She does not really speak English, though I think she understands more than most might think. My Spanish is nascent at best, but we were able to communicate and understand each other for the most part. It was actually quite amazing and it created another important memory for me. It meant a lot for me because it required me to use my beginning skills, but I hope that she realized how important I believe she is also. Too often I believe she is marginalized because of the language issues and that is not acceptable for me.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to create another memory. It was unplanned, but it was poignant. Muchas gracias por los 45 segundos en la mesa y la mirada en su cara. Gracias por sus palabras y sus rasgones. Soy bendito usted está aquí. Nunca olvidaré. Well, it is time to do some work. Thank you for reading and for those who have commented, thank you also. I am fortunate you are in my life.

Michael

Beset by Irony

Good evening,

As I write this there is a group of students working on their Odyssey of the Mind project in the next room. I have watched the movie, The Last Samurai, for the umpteenth time, but it is a movie that inspires me. It inspires me to work to be a better person and to be someone who digs deep to try to improve. I wish I had the discipline that those amazing men must have had. I guess my being in the Marine Corps offered some of that. It is interesting that the Marines talk about honor, discipline and tradition. Once before I wrote about the Japanese group of warriors called Samurai. They have a code by which they lived called Bushido. It was based on principles and those principles , or that code, is something that I wish I could adhere to better than I do. These eight virtues are still the principles of Japanese culture in the 21st century. There is something to be said for a code of life based on honor and respect. To live a life of rectitude and loyalty is quite admirable. It is actually the respect the movie seems to have for the Japanese culture that most resonates with me. I am not a huge Tom Cruise fan, but I must admit there are times in this movie I respect how he goes about his craft. His work to use the Japanese language and demonstrate a sense for the Samurai culture was impressive. There is a scene at the end of the movie after the final battle, where Algeran (Cruise’s character) presents the sword of the Samurai leader to the emperor. The emperor, realizing some important cultural issues at hand, asks Algeran to tell him how this amazing warrior (played excellently by Ken Wanatabe) died. Algeran answers, “I will tell you how he lived.” Such an important statement. It is not who we are, it is much more about how we have conducted our lives that is important. Those who have children leave more than heirs, they leave examples of their life. We are the products of the lessons we have been taught.

I have thought about that a lot lately. What do we leave behind. As I noted in an earlier post, if I have no children have I lost out on a legacy? Yes, perhaps in the most profound way, but I do hope that things I have taught in my classes has an influence. I do believe I have had an important influence on at least one of my nephews or nieces. I am relatively confident that I have. I was once told if you profoundly influence 3 or 4 other people in your life you were successful. I am not sure I can claim that, but I would like to believe I have made some difference in the lives of my students. I have been told that my classes are difficult, but that when a student walks out of my class knowing that they learned something of importance. I think of it as he or she got the education they have paid for. This is important, especially when the cost of an education has become so prohibitive for many. The amount of debt they will carry for the next twenty years or more is substantial. What has a person learned in the time they are in college. It is certainly more than what their books offer. It is my hope they have begun to understand who they are and why what they do matters. So many are focused on only the piece of paper. College is so much more. Life is so much more.

So much of my life I have worried about what others thought or about what others wanted me to do. I am confronted with choices once again, but they are choices of consequence. They are choices of eternity, and again I can hear my colleague Dr. Lee arguing that idea with me. I have to decide the best course of action to take. I spoke with my cousin today. She is one of the couple people I trust implicitly. She is a person I love deeply. She is a person who has cared for me almost 2/3s of my life. She is a nurse in California. She has been there for me on two other occasions and I remember crying with her on the phone. Today there was a third time and she was as supportive and caring as she has always been. It meant a lot to hear her words. She is a wise woman and she has been through a lot, but in her own words, her plate is large and she can handle a lot. I am grateful for her counsel. While I have not made a final decision about the course of action I will take, I am certainly leaning toward a particular course. It is a course that allows me to take charge of my life. It is a choice that allows me to move forward with my own understanding of dignity.

What I know is I have a lot to accomplish yet and I will work diligently and intentionally to accomplish those things. I wonder what it might be to have some small measure of peace, a peace that I believe “we all seek, but few of us ever find” (The Last Samurai). I wish at times I was a better person, a more profound and intelligent person, a person who made some significant difference, but I know such ideas are a bit foolhardy. They are selfish and self-serving. I do believe I am merely a person who found his way into the world, a bit by accident when you consider my beginning. I am a person who has defied death in, through, or by my very birth. That along with some of the other things that have occurred merely remind me of the blessings I have received so many times and in so many ways. I am still blessed. I have friends, and I have a family, albeit an unexpected one. I have my extended family and I have amazing colleagues and a great place to work. All of those things together give me much more than many have.

I am not exactly sure what the next weeks and months will bring and, again, I am not sure what my decision about these newest issues will be. I will have to ponder and process. I am good at that. I am pretty comfortable pondering and wondering about the “what if” questions. As I have noted, that has always been part of my life. It will continue to be so. The picture is of me a few weeks before I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, which eventually turned out to be Crohn’s. It is one of the last “pre-IBD” pictures I have. My hair was certainly a different color back then.

As always, thanks for reading.

Michael

Laughing at Mistakes

Good Monday evening,

I am in my study after a rather random weekend. As I noted in the last post, I did attend the Art Garfunkel concert Saturday night. While I went by myself, I did find out that another person I knew was headed to the concert also and she and her friend actually sat almost directly in front of me, we did catch up afterwards for a cup of coffee and a nice conversation. The concert was very nice, rather intimate, and, unfortunately, a bit short, but in spite of its length, it was certainly worth the time and the money. I still remember the first time I was listening with regularity to Simon and Garfunkel. I was in late elementary school or junior high and I had the Bridge over Troubled Water album. I think I had every track memorized and it is one of those albums that instantly puts me back into the time in my life. I think I was out of the service and back in Sioux City and I bought the Breakaway album, which is the only Garfunkel album I think I ever purchased, but, once again, I think I had every track on the album committed to memory. I think Art Garfunkel might have one of the purest voices I have ever heard.

While I was, at least, vaguely aware that he had suffered a vocal chord paresis a few years ago, I guess I did not really consider that fact when I found tickets available. I will say that his voice has certainly lost some of that phenomenal quality that I remember, it was still quite amazing and a combination of his songs, the songs made famous by the duo, and the intimate setting of just him and an acoustic guitar was quite impressive. What I did not realize what how important poetry was to him. I guess it makes sense as a song writer, but what he did throughout the concert was to interject the reading of one of his poems. There were two interesting elements here. First, each poem seemed to be scribbled on a business size mailing envelope; and second, the poetry was very good. It was always introduced to provide some context and then he would just read it.

There was a certain vulnerability in his work both in that fact that his voice was not what it once was and that he shared such personal insights through his poetry. At one point that vulnerability took on a different aspect when he was in the middle of a song and he forgot the lyrics. It was rather amazing as well as a bit amusing. As someone who once did his own guitar and vocal gig, I know of this difficulty. That is why I always had the lyrics in front of me. I had no doubt that I would forget something and look monumentally foolish. He was about a third or more through the song and, at first it seemed that he had merely missed the timing and as such an entrance into a next verse. He got a bit of a puzzled look on his face, but soon that look became ever more concerned. After 45 second or so, he got up off the stool upon which he was sitting and looked at the crowd and simply spoke, “I forget the words.” Everyone clapped and was gracious as was Gunfunkel himself. It was quite amazing to see such a famous person with 50+ years on the stage forget lyrics, but it also made it more real and honest. All-in-all, it was a very enjoyable and nostalgic evening.

As I noted in the title, I think it is necessary to be able to laugh at our mistakes. Perhaps more importantly, it is necessary to be able to admit them. If we learn from our failures, I am not convinced they should be called mistakes. I think they are learning moments or life’s lessons, and yet I hesitate to use those terms because they seem cliche. Yet, if we learn from our mistakes or take things in a different direction because of them, then they are still a positive thing. Perhaps we need to see them as strengths and weaknesses, but more importantly we need to be able to not only admit them, but be comfortable with them. Can we be comfortable in our own skin? Most often, I think the answer to that question, which is not intended to be merely pondered, is “no”. We are not comfortable when we feel that something reflects less than brightly or positively upon us. The consequence is we hide behind our frailties and our seeming inadequacies, most often afraid to consider or confront them. We ignore the things we should perhaps most often ponder and when we perceive someone else is pondering those things about us we either become defensive, soon to be followed by angry, or we merely avoid and run away. The consequence of that is a lot of unnecessary pain.

I spent more than an hour on the phone with a student about whom I care deeply this morning. At the end of two semesters and a summer in college, because of remedial work, he has less than a semesters-worth the credits and that GPA is abysmal. To go along with that he has probably 15K worth the debt, and people are trying to convince him he needs to come back to college. Certainly there are other factors that play into those decisions, but what is fair to the student? What is possible for this student? Who decides? Who will be honest with the student? Too many times, I believe the academy is selfish and self-centered. They receive financial aid for a student, but is the student really capable of doing the work? I think it is unconscionable and it is certainly not ethical. Of course, there are the stories or the reasons given for less than stellar grades. Too often it is everyone’s fault except the student. What a crock!! I know this all too well from my own beginning semesters of college. I was pretty damn worthless, at least as far as my performance as a student. I remember being sent home. It was something that needed to happen. In speaking with another person yesterday, we chatted about falling on our noses and then picking ourselves back up. That is an important thing to learn. It is such a fine line and it is different for each person. How much do you help and when do you allow them to fall? I am not comfortable with the one-size-fits-all approach, but it is something that most need to learn. Again, can you laugh at those learning moments, those AFGEs, as we called them in seminary? That acronym stands for “another F$*()$ growing experience”.

Well, today is the first day of my summer and I am working on a schedule and a plan for the weeks. The relaxation I spoke of in my last post is something to ponder for another time. I do want to build in some down time each day and I still have plans for the summer. However, another option has presented itself over the weekend that I want to manage. I am working through that at the moment. More on that as it transpires. I am not sure what I even have here today, but I do know that the weekend concert was a really significant event for me. It brought back childhood memories; it reminded me of our humanness and how we often take things for granted. No voice when you are a singer is an issue and Art Garfunkel picked himself up and did not quit. There is a lot to say about that. It is always interesting when we are hit with things that create substantive changes or require us to carefully consider our humanity.

Thanks as always for reading.

Michael

When does one relax?

Hello from my office,

I have finished grading for the semester and turned in those grades, I have managed a couple of items that need to be managed to get ready for the summer and I actually have a bit of time where I could relax (whatever that means) and perhaps merely take some downtime. However, as soon as I consider such a prospect, I feel guilty. Why is that? Why is it not okay to take some time for myself? Is it because I struggle with ever doing things well enough? Is it because I generally feel that there is so much more that I “should” be doing? These are larger questions, and while they are related to the simpler questions or necessary things at the moment, they certainly do inform the larger questions of when have I done enough? What is enough? Who decides? I do feel like I should be getting even more organized and doing more work. Perhaps it is because sometime I merely seem to putz around with things. I get little things accomplished, but nothing of substance. I must admit, getting my tenure work done second semester was more than something small, but I just about had a meltdown doing that. Is it because I am older and I do not feel like I have as much time left?

I was chatting a bit about retirement the other day, but I am not even sure what I think about such a possibility. I told them I would probably drive myself crazy sitting around. I got at least a taste of that the fall of 2012 when I was on a medical leave from school. I realize the bigger issue for me is simply priorities. I need to get certain things done and it is not a question of if: it must be done; second it is not a question of when: it is now. That pretty much prioritizes it. I think there is a certain irony because that task or need of which I am speaking is that I need to write. I am, of course, ironically, writing here, but it is the sort of writing that is about publication. I do have some things done, but I feel so inadequate about the quality of them. I am feeling better about the one about the program because I do believe that there are things there that set the professional writing program here and the process apart from most other programs. It has been pretty successful and I think that is because I have amazing support in the department and at the college level. I think that actually goes up to the Provost’s office, but I think it is a really significant thing.

As I have been working in my office this morning, once again I have been checking things off the list. One of the things I did was write a recommendation for a former student, a long-past former student. She is actually going back to the very program I was in. She is one of the most outstanding students I have ever known and I did not even have her in class. However she hung out with a number of the graduate students in the RTC program and she was exceptionally intelligent, and it did not hurt that she had an amazing wit and a total sense of irreverence. It was really a joy to write that recommendation. Sometimes we get asked to write ones that are a bit more difficult. I am always pleased when really committed students do well. I get almost as much out of their success as they do. That happened with another student this week as grades have come out. Dean’s List is no small accomplishment and with only a bit more hard work, I believe that graduating with honors should certainly be attainable. I did not do that in my undergraduate. I was close, but a Physiology and Anatomy course, which was a med school weed out course, and one which I took for “something to do”, doomed that chance for me. While I do not really regret it now, I sure did at the time.

I remember once telling a counselor that I double-majored, double-minored, worked 20 hours a week, did not do summer school and graduated in four years with a 3.74 (we needed a 3.75 for honors) and he asked if I thought that was normal. I said, “certainly.” He said, “probably not.” I did not think about it as any sort of abnormal thing, it was merely what I needed to do to accomplish what I had set out to do. Graduating with a major in History/Humanities and a minor in German/Religion was a far cry from thinking about working cutting hair once upon a time. I think of Lee and Judy Swenson in Newton, Iowa, my first host family when I was on the Lutheran Youth Encounter team. It has been an interesting journey since that summer of 1978. Interestingly, one of their children, who was four when I first met her is now a college professor also.

I guess the more important thing for me is to figure out how to manage the life I have. What happens when we find we are older than we thought (whatever that means)? What is old again? I have begun to believe Lydia is old, but I do not think I will ever make it to 90. I am not sure I want to do that seeing what I have saw over the past 3+ years. What I have had to ponder again is how do I manage the life I have. I have been told many times I am a miracle from the beginning I had. I guess that is true. But when it is your life, you merely manage what you have. When you learn things about your background or your life that have long-term consequences, it might be easy to blame or be angry, but I learned long ago that such anger is really bitterness and I have no time for such behavior.

I do hope to relax some or at least do some things I want to do this summer. I think this will be important for me. I was thinking about the movie, Bucket List, a couple of times lately. I have never really considered the need to make such a thing and I still don’t, but I do want to live without regretting things. I think that is why some of the changes in my life as of late are so important to me. If you have been reading for sometime, you know that I am learning yet another language (which I want to be fluent in yesterday), I have taken some chances with people and have been more blessed than I could have anticipated. It is a bit surprising to me how the meeting of people can make such a profound change, but I think it has been a good change. It is something like the change that Bloomsburg brought from Stout. I have said in the past three for four years maybe my reason to go to Menomonie was not to work at Stout, but rather to meet and care for Lydia. While Stout certainly prepared me for Bloomsburg, maybe the reason I came back to PA was because of the Decker family. Maybe it was about teaching in the summer where I think I have had some of the most profound effect on some students who questioned whether or not they were “college material.” Well, if someone comes here with even an average ability, if he or she works hard, it can be accomplished. Some might need more help than others, but there is a lot that can be accomplished with the correct situation and support.

Next week I have some doctor’s appointments along the second half of gum surgery. Before you shudder too much, the first half of the surgery was not too terrible. I am doing a laser process with the acronym of LANAP. It is pretty amazing. The biggest difficulty is merely managing only liquids and soft food for two weeks. More weight will magically disappear. Not a bad thing. Well, hard to believe it is Friday. Tomorrow night I am going to see Art Garfunkel. I am quite excited by that. Unfortunately, no food, but I am looking forward to the evening and the concert. All in all, things are reasonable. While I am not totally relaxing, I am not sure I know what that means. I’ll work on it over the weekend. Thank you as always for reading.

Michael

Carente de Sentido Común

Good Morning,

It has been a long few days since I last posted. Late last week I made a quick (and somewhat brutal) trip to Wisconsin and back. I made it 2000+ miles in about 66 hours (and 36 hours of not really driving). The trip there was not that bad, but the last two hours of the return trip that was not the case. I had to stop at two rest stops and wash my face and try to remain coherent. A couple of rumble strips and a realization or two that I think my eyes had closed sufficiently frightened me. I tried to call one person who told me I could check in with him, but got no answer. Texts, of course, do not really work, so that did not really help me. Some would question whether I resemble the title of my blog, but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. By the time I got home on Saturday evening my body was literally shaking and I could not make it up my steps to the bedroom. I actually rested in the chair in my living room for an hour or so before I could get my legs to work. I think that is the closest I have been to total exhaustion in a very long time. Amazing how once upon a time I thought road trips were fun. Perhaps there is some wisdom in my deteriorating brain even in its exhaustive state. Unfortunately, this also took its toll on my body in other ways. Three bags of fluids this time and, unfortunately, blood work revealed some larger issues. I was trying to get into the gastroenterologist in the near future. I guess I will get in a bit sooner. That is positive.

While I was in Wisconsin I was confronted by the consequences of health and aging in yet another dramatic fashion. There were more times than not (for the first time) that Lydia did not really know me nor was she cognizant of my presence, even though I was sitting right next to her. On a positive note, she did recognize me when I walked in on Friday. However, when the later events happened that day, I actually had to walk away because I began to cry. I have known this day is coming, but the reality of it for more than a moment was difficult for me to manage. I am always amazed that the students who do not really take the time to know me believe I am just a “hard ass” merely because I want them to do their work. What they do not realize is how much a really do care about most everything. As two of my non-traditional students at MTU once said, I am a smoosh. The second issue was all of Lydia’s property and the maintaining of all of it, which is my legal duty. I have tried to work with it in a way that I believed to be prudent and careful. I have allowed people to put in security and other things, which seemed reasonable, but most of it is not working as optimally as I want or believe it should for the money invested. It is not my area of expertise and the failure of it working or being managed is frustrating to me. I also understand that that management requires on-site work and that is not always easy. Then there is the maintaining of the house on a daily basis. I am too kind and willing to be put on the back burner than I should be. Then I end up angry, both at the situation and at myself. If I actually did follow through on some things I am afraid people would really think I am a jerk.

Another frailty that I was made aware of again is my nephew who is struggling with some health issues. He is the second of the five to have significant health issues. Both he and his older brother (while their issues are very different) struggle and will struggle with for the remainder of their lives. For the elder nephew, it is an issue of maintaining a sense of health with a device. I actually understand that more than he realizes, and as noted a the previous paragraph, I continue to fight it. Sometimes I get tired, and there are always questions about how to fight or combat. There is also the option to no longer fight and, at moments, even that seems like a reasonable option. Perhaps I say that because I am content with my life and believe I have accomplished most of what I hoped to do. Of course, there is the question of what do we set out to do? Do we even know? Is there some grand plan about what makes someone successful or not? Do we reach a point where we merely will allow what is to happen merely happen because it is the best plan? That is not to say that we should not plan or work with the cards we are dealt. In fact, I set up the appointment at the attorney this morning. I will have my ducks-in-a-row. Before you think I am being fatalistic, not completely . . . . more realistic. I still have plans and I still have hopes and dreams.

Yet that brings me to the third of the things that happened while I was in Wisconsin. Over the past 10 years, both Lydia and I have worked with a particular contractor regarding concrete and stonework. I have had another project on the back-burner with him for more than a year and I called him while driving back on Saturday. What I got on the other end of the phone call to the question of “how are you?” totally blew me away. He responded, “Do you really want to know?” and I answered, “Yes.” His response was that his 48 year old wife had passed way about 10 days before. I was stunned. In spite of all the time I had spent with him over the years, it was always professional and not personal. I did not know that his wife was both a firefighter and paramedic for the Eau Claire, Wisconsin Fire Department. In the spans of barely over two months, she went from becoming ill to dying of colon cancer (http://www.leadertelegram.com/blogs/christena_obrien/article_d75bfc38-d61d-11e3-a306-0019bb2963f4.html). I know this disease and I know what it does. While many can manage it with reasonable testing, when it occurs like this, there is little that can be done. When it ravages a body that is already compromised from an IBD or something, it is a very different animal. I am so sorry for Greg and his and her family. Yet, it reminds me again that our time is limited. We really do not know what lies around that next corner.

I think that is why I have tried to live my life to the fullest I can. While I have not really thought that much about it, as I ponder now I realize that I have been blessed in so many ways, from places and people, from experiences and opportunities, from the love and care of others. To each of you who have played a significant role both in the past or now . . . . simply, thank you. I am grateful and I am looking forward to more times to continue to create my own personal quilt or picture. I think that is my understanding of sentido común. While some might believe me to be lacking this essential element (and my father said that it was neither), I do believe realizing who we are and what we have is perhaps the most profound understanding of it.

Thanks for reading.

Michael