Kariotic Moments and Small Potent Gestures

Good early morning,

Over the last hour or so (it’s 4:30 a.m.), the first fall wind and rain storm blew through. It was windy enough to wake me, and not totally unexpected because it was breezy as I made my home after last night’s late class to a grown wind and latte summer humidity. It was warm enough to open windows upstairs before going to bed and I might have left a door or two open also. The wind for the even cooled the house nicely. I love fall storms because they remind me of my time in Houghton and up in the Keweenaw, where the power of the largest of the Great Lakes made it readily apparent how minuscule our human strength against the fury of nature was (and is). As I listened to the gusts this morning, which were quite evident, I tried to imagine what 170 mile winds of Hurricane Maria might be like. I cannot begin to fathom it . . . the minutes turn into hours, and the hours into days, and then to weeks . . . again, I am still hoping to work on this. It is about 48 hours later and a lot has been accomplished. I am about  95% caught up in my grading. I have a bit to do tomorrow, but one of those kairotic times is upon me. Promotion materials are due next Wednesday and I am not even close to being where I need to be, so the marathon begins this evening. I got some other things done and the few remaining will be breaks as I move forward in this process to move to the next level.

I remember doing this for tenure a few years ago and just wanting it all done. It is something I need to slog through and it is simple as that. So . . . in my typical fashion, I am clearing my head before I have to concentrate on this daunting task. I know that people do it. I know people are doing as I am. There are moments that stun us, moments that leave us speechless, and moments when we are confronted with the reality of our lives (or the lives of those around us), which force us to step back and realize what matters the most. I have had two of those events this past week. I am always sad when people are dealt a hand that seems overwhelming, certainly unfair, and can only elicit one response when we hear the news . . .  something like “Shit . . . are you kidding me?” and you know deep in your gut there are no words, no emotions and quite simply nothing that is adequate in any communicative response. That was what I heard from a student this morning. It is how I felt when I read about two of my former students who have faced either illness or accident that has changed the course of their lives. It is at those times, the voice of the Psalmist rings out most clearly to me, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” It seems that if such words were adequate for Jesus on the cross, perhaps they are  the best I too can utter at such a time. As we need into the fall season, I am reminded through the longer enveloping darkness that there is a coldness that will come. There is both a sense of longing for the light, but, more generally for me the appreciation, of a sort of melancholy that accompanies a windy, autumn evening. As I noted the other night it was a sort of storm . . . gusty winds and rain, but a coldness and reminder of what is yet to come in these Northern climates.

It was a milder summer than I can remember here in Northcentral Pennsylvania. The grass is still quite green and that is months longer than usual. It has also cost me much more than usual to keep things on the acre looking reasonable. Actually the leaves are just beginning to change, but the colors seem a bit more muted than usual. I guess that is okay. What I am realizing with the hectic schedule of the fall, I have not made it to Jim Thorpe once, and my somewhat yearly tradition of the Elysburg Haunted House might be broken this year too. Why? The Kairos of Promotion as I will call it. What has happened in the almost 5 weeks since Shiama left is I have used home again as a place to sleep, shower, and collect mail. It is amazing how when someone is in my house, I feel much more balanced and healthy. Those who have been reading know I had some significant vitamin issues earlier this year. I am almost two months without a B12 shot and I can tell. I just took my first Vitamin D in over a month and again, I can tell. It just seems like my office, which I love, becomes a black hole that keeps me from getting as much done as I should. I think much of it is certainly my own fault in that I need to prioritize and do what many of the other faculty do . . . guard my time a bit more carefully, but I have not really figured out how to do that effectively. I still struggle to say I cannot do anymore. I do not think it is about letting people down, but rather it is about lifting people up and trying in some small way to make a difference for them as others have done for me. This is what Cynthia Selfe, the chair of the Humanities Department at Michigan Technological University when I was a graduate student there, called “small potent gestures.” They are those thing that occur at that kairotic moment which make a profound and noticeable difference in the life of “the other.” I have been so blessed to have people do those things for  me in my life, often when unexpected and most certainly mostly when undeserved.

This past week, whether people imagine it as such, and there will certainly be discussion as to whether this address deserves such attention, but I believe it does. For a sitting Senator to question the leadership of the President of their own party in such a public way is unprecedented. I did some  research and the last time a Senator stood in such stark contrast to another within their own party was not about the President, but about another Senator. In 1950, Senator Margaret Chase Smith (ME-R) took on Senator Joseph McCarthy (R-WI) during the Communist Accusations, which led to the filing of what was called the “Declaration of Conscience.” While I am not a Senator Jeff Flake fan, and mostly because I do not fit the AZ conservative Republican mold . . . really, you ask?? 🙂 . . . I do think some of what he said about what we need to do in terms of our discourse and the urgent need to be more civil in what happens being it individually or nationally rings true for me. It pains me to see how we have become so uncaring, so self-centered, so unwilling to look beyond our own selfish hopes and desires. Whether it being something as simple as holding the door open for the other, offering someone a hand when their hands are full, or giving out of our simple having when the other does not have, it matters. It is that small potent gesture that might give another hope when they feel hopeless. What pains me is the willingness to attack the person with whom we have a disagreement rather than be willing to understand why they might see the issue differently than we do. This rude, callous, and despicable behavior, which I must agree does seem to emanate from the very person we have elected to represent us, does more than embarrass me. It has the ability at time to leave me disillusioned. I fight that daily, but there are times I find myself questioning if we have been debased to the degree there is no return. It is interesting that two Senators used that very work this past week, both Republicans.

At the very least, Senator Flake should cause us pause. What do we hope for ourselves as a nation? What sort of world do we leave for our children or our grandchildren? I might say, it does not matter because I have no children, and hence no grandchildren. I might say it does not matter because I have accomplished so much more than I ever imagined I could. I might be tempted to say I have done my work and as such, I can leave it up to those who will follow, but that is not how I roll, to use the vernacular. It brings be back to something that has found its way into my cranial pondering as of late. What do I have yet to accomplish that is not self-serving or perhaps selfish? More important in such a question is who decides? Again, I am reminded of how lives change and paths unpredicted become the norm. On Monday when began this blog, I can recollect, and perhaps pause in anniversial (is that a word???) manner. On the 23rd of October 1988, I was ordained a Lutheran pastor. As many know, much has happened since then, but today’s encounter with a student and health reminded me of that caring role and hope that often is such a part of pastoral care. It is 29 years since that ordination. That day I was so overwhelmed with the reality of the event and what or who I was, I was physically ill. Interestingly, the 31st, it will be 500 years ago that Luther nailed his 95 thesis on the Castle door at Wittenburg. I remember it was the 500 anniversary of his birth when I was in East Germany to visit that place. Luther knew his gesture was potent, but I doubt he understood just how potent it was. That Sunday in October of 1988, I remember clearly as my fellow classmates, already ordained, as well as the Rev. Frederich Peters and the Rev. Dr. Greg Witte laid their hands on my head and I listened to those words. I remember my best friend, who is no longer alive, singing John Michael Talbot’s “Prayer of St. Francis” and my listening to those words. The kairos of that moment is not something I will ever forget.  I am grateful for my friends, particularly Susan, who has always supported my identity, even after leaving the clergy roster, to see me as someone still called. More than a small gesture on her part, more than she might begin to fathom.

This past week as I walked around, I felt a certain loneliness. I felt a certain sadness in a sort of failing way. While the creating of the map assignment for my students was difficult for some of them, it allowed me to see just how many, in spite of their imperfect and perfectly human families, cared and loved their parents so deeply. Certainly there were families in which estrangements are occurring; certainly I heard some things that cause me to see how complicated their lives often are, especially outside the confines of my class. Yet, even for those who struggle with things, the love and care I felt in some of their words give me hope. Perhaps there is more to the world than the discord that seems to cover every inch of a news source, be it online or hardcopy. Perhaps people do think beyond the 140 characters that epitomizes the verbal capacity of our somewhat frightening leader . . . to those who support him (and I support and respect the office, but I am struggling to do the same because of some of what he has said and done) please accept my apology. What I know is in spite of all the good and less than, I have been blessed and amazed by the grace of that which I do not always understand. For the moment, that is good enough. With that, I leave this version of that amazing song for you to hear. This specific video of the song generally brings me to tears.

Again, as always, thank you for reading.

Dr. Martin

 

Farewell my Friend

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Good Sunday morning,

It is very early and I am awake. I left town yesterday because of the yearly block party (I refuse to use it as a proper noun – pun intended). It was a wonderful day in Jim Thorpe and a beautiful day to be walking around. Early yesterday morning, I got a call from Stephanie informing me that Peter, the life-long friend whom I have noted as of late, had passed away earlier Saturday morning, ending his battle with ALS. It is a bitter-sweet thing to say I am both relieved that he no longer needs to suffer, but I am so profoundly at a loss because someone who has been my friend since the beginning of my life, and someone even younger (albeit only a year, almost exactly), has left this earth. As I noted a few posts ago, this is a very different feeling than the feeling I had with Lydia. While losing Lydia is still part of my daily thoughts, she was 90 and had lived an amazing life. Peter was 58 years old. At one point I might have considered that old. That is undoubtably not my reality now.

When I went to see Peter three weeks ago, he noted that he never really expected to grow old. That statement caught me off guard, but I noted that he probably did not expect to have to battle such a vicious and uncaring disease as ALS. I want to talk about the memories of this most amazing, yet profoundly human, friend of mine. Our mothers were best friends all of our lives and our families did most everything together. Peter, James, and John (Biblical sounding) were the three Goede boys and Robert, Michael, and Kris (I am the Michael, not trying to state the obvious) were the Martin children. Peter’s mother was our church organist and our two father’s, Jake and Harry, pretty much ran Riverside Lutheran Church when we were small. To walk into my house and see Marge, Peter’s mother, at the kitchen table having iced tea with my mother was as common as breathing. To see our fathers working on something at church was a common as listening to Pastor Anderson or Ofstedal, our two pastors from childhood through high school preach every Sunday. If it was the 4th of July, we were at McCook Lake and the Ike’s Club to celebrate with fireworks and picnics. When I was 17 years old, Peter saved my life when I almost drown in that lake. If he had not swum across that lake, I am am quite sure I would not be writing this post and he would be joining me rather than I being one of the many who has lost him.  His older brother, John, was instrumental in really creating a strong church youth group  and that youth group was a significant part of my growing up. I remember when the famous Beatles song, “Let it Be” was the theme of our homecoming growing up. It was that song and Pete’s singing of it that got his voice noticed and began a life-long gig with the garage band, The Establishment, who were eventual inductees into the Iowa Rock -n-Roll Hall of Fame, that would in someways identify Peter for the rest of his life. Whether it was their gigs or his grandmother meticulously braiding his almost waist-length hair; whether it was traveling to another high school homecoming dance or a weekend in Spencer, Iowa, where we spent hours listening to the latest 45 trying to figure out the lyrics to “Rocky Mountain Way”, his voice was in the process of becoming legendary. Growing up I walked beans on their farm; I spent moments driving around in our cars; hanging out wherever we might decide like the Runza Drive-in on Riverside Blvd. When I left for the Marine Corps after graduation, our actual time together was significantly less than our childhood years, but eventually, I was best man in his wedding and he was the same in mine. When I ended up in seminary, Whitney, their daughter was born and I sang at her baptism. He would sing at my ordination and he sang at my sister’s funeral. Our fathers passed away within two months of each other.

Even though our lives when through a myriad of changes, there was never the need to figure out who the other one was or who they had become. I remember going to Whitney’s high school graduation reception and what he told me that day was a bit shocking, but he was even then taking a sort of inventory of his life and what had happened. Peter was an unequalled when it came to working hard and not giving up on things. In the early days of he band he would buy their PA equipment, taking out loans in his own name to make sure they had what was needed and he and Flood Music became sort of business partners. He was one of the first to get into the hardware/software/networking area and he did very well. Even when it required changing companies and learning a new gig or thing, he was up to the challenge. Yet, he was a human and sometimes the habits we learn early never leave us. There were things he battled and as with many of us, he could be his own worst enemy. I understand this malady all too well. A couple of years ago, I sent him a letter. It was a letter that I had written as I was recovering from complications of yet another surgery and a letter than reflected much as I am now. As I battled yet another serious health crisis, I called and read him the letter before I even sent it. I cried that evening as I cry now. I am now more than grateful that I took the time to write to him and to Stephanie at that time. I am glad that I took the time to visit him three weeks ago. I am grateful for the conversations we had that day and the opportunity I had to speak with Stephanie a few weeks before that. We take so much for granted.

Later today, I will spend time watching a student be inducted into the national honor society. Quite a change from the beginning of their college tenure, but what it demonstrates is someone not taking anything for granted, but realizing it takes work and that no one owes us anything. That is such a difficult lesson. There is no promise of a long life; there is no promise of success, even with hard work. Each day is a gift and coming to terms with that is something that takes most of us a long time to realize, if we ever actually come to that realization. Each time I am shocked or jolted into this reality, there is little that can be said. It is yet another forced realization. To use the word “forced” demonstrates that we are so easily lulled into complacency or a sense of expectation. We have our plans (and heaven knows we need to plan), but we have little comprehension, nor do we want it, that the line between life and death is much more tenuous than we care to consider in any regular manner or given moment. I think some of our occupations require us to do so (medical or health care workers), but generally we make our long-term plans merely believing that those things will happen. I am quite sure that neither Peter nor I expected to incur some of the things that we have in the 40 years since high school. I do think he expected to have Stephanie in his life, and I am grateful to her for being the amazing person she is. I know the last time he and I spoke he talked about how important his children were and how proud he was of them. His daughter and son, while I do not know them as well as I might wish, are certainly incredible people. They are successful, but more importantly, they are also good people. What I know my friend is that as I think about our lives, I would not be the person I am without some of the things we shared and all the ways our lives were intertwined growing up. You have taught me what true friendship is. We remained friends during your entire life. When I told you three weeks ago that I loved you, I meant that from the bottom of my heart. In spite of your fragile condition, you were as gracious as you could be and we had a nice day together. We laughed and we cried. The tears streaming down my face now are tears of relief. They are tears of sadness and also tears of graciousness, for gratefulness, that we had the opportunity for some sense of closure. I promised I would come see you as soon as school was finished for the semester, but that was not to be. Instead, I am honored and humbled for the opportunity I have had to share together with you our lives, sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes at a distance, sometime with a passage of time, but regardless it was a friendship that abided change of time, distance, jobs, and anything else that might have happened.

I am not sure what the schedule will be this coming week, but I know that I am headed back to see you again, sooner than I imagined. This time to be there for your children and for Stephanie and to share with all the people who loved you. As I write this, ironically, I am listening to iTunes and “Dream On” came on. Your voice and your ability to be the show person you were will always amaze me. I hope you have a wonderful stage on which you can share. I know your parents and grandmother are there to welcome you. I am glad you are no longer suffering, but I will miss knowing that you are there in Eagan. I love you, Stephanie, and I love you my friend.

Bless you.

Thanks for reading.

Michael (Peter’s friend)

P.S. I have to add that I have now heard “Let it Be,” “Stairway to Heaven,” and “Free Bird”. Thanks for the messages, my friend.

Traditions of Christmas

Scan 757Hello on the day retailers go into the Black,

I am probably not helping them make any goal today and I am grading and attending to matters that somehow once again seem beyond my control. I do not plan to do much shopping, if any today, and I have other things I want to try to manage. I sometimes wonder if my attention to detail is something wrong or merely something that causes me difficulty, or perhaps both. The picture here is of two of my seminary friends when they came to Pennsylvania when I first lived in this state a quarter century ago and was a parish pastor in Lehighton. They are in the house I lived in and their names are Tim Christensen and Sandra Van Zyl. I miss them, but still know where they are (in Montana).

I did have a nice Thanksgiving, though a bit untraditional and a bit traditional. I spent part of it on the road taking my Midwest guests back to the airport and spent some time in a traffic jam. Then I went to a family’s house for dinner. They had extended family there and it was nice to meet them. It always it interesting to be around a group at the holidays. I listen to comments and conversations and one learns so much. It was the “cousin” comments which taught me the most and gave me new insights.

I didn’t finish all of this yesterday and last evening (it is 4:00 a.m. and I have been awake for over an hour, so I write) I was at the Decker’s. I had a nice time watching Grace in a parade and seeing Caroline and Rose scramble for candy. Mary always brightens my day because of her amazing love and beauty. Max, Mark and I played a card game following the parade (which Max beat us both) and Ethan, Christian (the Clark nephews who were visiting), and Gayle worked on a jigsaw puzzle (which they pulled an all nighter and I just got the completed picture as a text). It was interesting that advice both Mark and I gave Grace last night, I need to take for myself. It really dawned on me as I was saying it. In fact, I noted that point and Mark and Grace both noted it back to me.  It is a bit ironic how we tell others not to put up with what we ourselves are putting up with. So, now comes the hard part: doing it and continuing to say that impoliteness is not reasonable nor acceptable, regardless of what the other does to justify. I realize that I put up with a lot more of this than I should and then when the consequence is my generosity or kindness (in any form) is taken advantage of, I am always surprised (I should not be). What I am learning is what I offer or think about a person’s intentions or character is not as pure as I want to believe. If one’s heart is not selfish, it is almost impossible to act selfishly. This is the adage I must remember.

Tonight when I got home I pondered (yes, again I am pondering) why it is that Christmas music so profoundly affects me. I am not sure if it is because I grew up singing from the time I was small. I am not sure if it is because I remember recording an LP (do your remember those things?) with the Sioux City Children’s Choir. However, it was actually trying to listen to Christmas music on Thanksgiving evening and a comment from the cousin that gave me the most insight into things I have watched, but perhaps did not really understand. In addition, it also got me thinking about the music. The station I was listening to was probably the most traditional of any Christmas station one could ever hope to find. John Rutter and Robert Shaw have probably done more arranging and composing of Christmas music than any other two people in the world. It is their Pandora stations that play the most amazing Christmas music one could ever hope to hear. Check it out; I am quite sure you’ll be glad you did.

This coming Wednesday, I am going to see Mannheim Steamroller’s Christmas concert in Bethlehem. I have not seen them live since I was in seminary. I got two tickets way last summer, but the plans I thought of have changed pretty dramatically, and I am really fortunate to be going with a former colleague. She has a “bit of a musical appreciation” so going to see the concert with her will be amazing. She is also one of the people for whom I have great admiration. I am looking forward to it. Next weekend I am going to hide out in Jim Thorpe for the weekend. I plan to see the Bach and Handel Chorale there (and probably do some grading).

When I grew up every Christmas was at my Grandmother’s house. This is the same person with whom I lived until I was about four and a half. I have mentioned her in my blog many times, and she is my hero. She is probably the most loving and giving person I ever met. She had a much more difficult life than I have really taken the time to imagine. She grew up on a farm in the depression and the dust bowl years in South Dakota. She did go to college, at least for a period of time, but she did not finish. I never learned the story behind that. I’m not exactly sure how she ended up married to my grandfather, but I think that deeply loved each other. He died when she was only 45 years old. So what I’m realizing that she spent the rest of her life, the next 19 years, as a widow. Another one of those ironies, Lydia has been alone also for 19 years. I think with me this is me the most about my grandmother is that she overcame her alcoholism. I did not know she was an alcoholic, but I remember as a small child going to the liquor store with her. From what I understand, my grandfather also had a drinking issue. It was really after I became an adult that I understood what it happened. Long story short, AA changed her life. I think she quit drinking when I was seven years old and she never drank again. For the rest of her life, she focused on her ownership of the bakery and she was active in Eastern Star. She eventually was the Worthy Matron of her chapter. I remember in high school being amazed as I watched these elegant women do the things they did at installations. It reminds me of someone, a person who worked at the bakery. I wonder where she is today.

Christmas at my grandmothers house was amazing. She owned a bakery – the one I worked at from the time I was 12 – and everything that was made there was delectable. Both she and her older sister, Helen, where the most amazing cooks in the world. So between her bakery and her culinary skills Christmas dinner has never been equaled. However, that was only the beginning. Grandma pulled out all the stops at Christmas and her generosity was unparalleled by anyone. I do not come close for those thinking I am like her. I only wish I was. I can still remember her kindness, her smile, and how happy she was that everyone was in her house. Perhaps the best part of Christmas was that we got to stay at her house the week that followed. My favorite breakfast every day consisted of two poached eggs, a half a grapefruit, and toast. Hanging out at the bakery is a small child and working later in my life was something that I love to do. I still remember the present of a toboggan and sliding on her hill. The house she lived in the rest of her life with the house I had spent my first years in. It was a place of safety; it was a place of love. Perhaps that’s the most important gift she gave me the gift of unconditional love. While I’ve tried to emulate her all too often I fail miserably. However I still have her example to remember and to cherish.

In spite of the craziness at the end of the semester, regardless a number of things that can get in our way, it is the time to remember the things that matter. No matter how busy we are or how much we have on our plate simple acts of courtesy and kindness or what Christmas and traditions are about. I am blessed by my traditions from earlier my life and the memories I have. I’m grateful for the things that I have learned this past year. I’m not sure what the future will bring or how long with future is, but I do know that I have been blessed. Even when I don’t understand all the reasons or even the actions of others, I can still find some blessing in those experiences. I’m grateful for my traditions, for my heritage. While I will not leave children behind, I was reminded again this week by an email that somehow I make a difference. While I love the traditions of Christmas perhaps my most important legacy is in the classroom. It is one of the places my gifts really shine. I hope you can find time to create new traditions and begin new things. I’m looking forward to Christmas and having some people at my house to share to learn together, and perhaps create a new tradition, at least once. Well, it is 5:30 a.m. – time for a nap.

The link is from one of my favorite group, the concert I will see this next week. The song is titled “Traditions of Christmas”. I hope you find it as meaningful as I do.

As always thank you for reading.

Dr. Martin

Learning Continuously

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Good Sunday Morning,

Yesterday was hectic and yet manageable, and I am feeling also successful. If you have been reading my blog this past month, you are aware that I have struggled both personally and professionally. The great majority of those struggles have been self-induced, not necessarily because of the actual events or changes, but because of my response and reaction to them. I have created more stress for myself than was certainly needed. While I do not really desire stress as part of my life (I do not like drama because I was married to that at one point.), I am learning my fragility has a way of inducing it. By taking things more personally than I should, I create dilemmas that are unnecessary and ultimately hurtful. That is some of what I have begun to understand more precisely in the last weeks, and particularly this last week. While I was stressing about this conference, the other was pulling all-nighters because of all the things on her plate. I was too concerned with my own stuff to think more carefully about the bigger picture. For that I owe Melissa an apology and, so Melissa, I ask for your forgiveness. Seems I have needed to offer more apologies than usual lately (and for the most part to the same person). Humility is an important thing and it seems I have been humbled quite a bit as of late.

Last night in the preparation and taping for the OSCLG Conference, I had a wonderful opportunity to consider what has happened to me this year. I reflected last night after we had finished and I was not quite asleep on a text from March that noted it was going to be a good year. I cannot agree more when I consider all of the things that have happened. I have learned more about myself, both positive and not so much, than perhaps any time period in my life. The taping of the presentation was really enjoyable and it was revealing for me. I learned so much more about these messages and Melissa’s insight into how to manage both the content in that event as well as her insights into the texts left me in awe. She is really quite brilliant. I have always assumed that, but it has been an assumption because I have not really ever worked with her. We have worked around each other, but never actually with each other in an intentional way. She is focused (not surprising); she is effective and efficient (again, not surprising), but she is also much more of a scholar than I believe she gives herself credit for being. She is an outstanding student as is shown by what she has accomplished, but grades and application are something quite different. I am really excited to finish up the presentation and present it at the conference this week. I am thinking that in someways what we recorded might be more effective than if we would have been there together as originally planned. Ironic that the conference is titled “Engendering Technology” and we used some pretty sophisticated camera equipment for the filming last night. I am indebted to her father and Jorge for their willingness to come on a Saturday and spend most of their late afternoon and all of their evening to do this. It was also nice that Maria was there also. She always brightens my day.

I should note it is now Sunday afternoon and before I get to work on some other things, I am sitting in Jim Thorpe working in a coffee shop. I needed to stop by my nutritionist’s shop and pick up some things and chat with her about how things are going. Now I am sitting in an amazing place called “Strange Brew” (and no the Mackenzie Brothers are not to be found. Bummer!) and drinking apple cider and working. I love coming to Jim Thorpe. I think it is a place I can relax also. It is not quite as far to travel as Placerville. That is a good thing. Even though I have been coming to Jim Thorpe the entire time I have been back in Pennsylvania, I am still stunned at the transformation this town went through from when I left here in 1992 and when I came back in 2009. There is very little that could connect you with the town it was in the late 80s and 90s. It is now quaint (yes, I will admit “touristy”), Victorian, and quite appealing. It is a wonderful place to come in the Fall during their Foliage Festival or during the Christmas Holidays. Now I can enjoy being here by myself or bringing someone to experience the ambiance of the town for the first time as is happening today.

I have really been reflecting on what I have learned in my life in a really specific way and thinking about from where some of those lessons have come. As I have been listening to music today, those of you who know me well are aware that I have a somewhat encyclopedic memory for songs, lyrics, bands, when a song was released, and other minutia about whatever song I know. I am not sure where or how that happened, but I think at least part of it is being blessed (although not always a blessing) with a pretty phenomenal memory. So as we are sitting in the coffee shop, I am listening to the music, singing along, and this is happening with almost every song. I am getting some rather puzzled looks, a look like “you know this one too?” It just happens. Music has been such a central part of my life. I have been singing my entire life. I guess one of the good things about music now being “clouded” is I cannot lose it. When I was divorced from Susan, I lost probably 1,000 albums; CDs were justing coming in, but I lost a significant number of those too. When I left Terri, I lost a boatload of CDs and a pretty kick-ass stereo including my Bose Acousti-mass speakers. Now I have a boatload of music on iTunes and I use both iTunes Radio and Pandora. I have to give Jordan and Melissa credit for bringing me into the current decade. I think the entire DJ movement is such an interesting development when one considers issues of composing, intellectual property. These are the things I think about; these are the things I want to understand and learn more about. Technology as created such amazing opportunity, but how does it change the artistic process and what it means to compose? How does it change the interaction between vocals and instrumentation? These are some of the things I have my students investigating right now as they are working on their papers. For me it is about learning more. I cannot merely walk through life oblivious to what is happening around me. It is essential to me to be always asking why. The why is not mean to question validity nor even to agree or disagree, it is to understand; it is to be able to carry on a meaningful and thoughtful conversation with others.

I think the specific moment (or short period) that I finally understood that learning was absorbing versus memorizing was when I was traveling in Europe in January 1980 with Dr. Nielsen and the interim class where we had read books by Ernest Hemingway and Thomas Mann. As I walked through Western Europe I felt like I was walking through a history and it was my task to soak up every possible molecule of knowledge I could. What I learned was I loved to learn, not merely for some sort of recitation, but rather for trying to understand the world in which I live and how it has become that world, and to understand this, or even or scratch the surface, one must return to our roots. I have those study guides and all those materials from my humanities class in my office right now. It was during those semesters that I had the opportunity to travel to Europe. Now it is 35 years later, and I am still trying to understand it all. I want to know everything I can. I know that might sound a bit ridiculous to some, but to me it merely learning. It is absorbing and reflecting. It is trying to see where I fit in this complex and jumbled world. It is hoping (and last night helped me to understand that I do :)) that I make a difference. Yet, it is not about what I do, but rather what I might leave behind. That is what matters. It is hoping that what I do makes other peoples’ lives better. It is realizing that when I learn, I teach more effectively. It is realizing that learning rejuvenates me. It is believing that somehow helping others to understand both the world and themselves makes their part of the world a better place. I know that I have a limited time, but I am okay with that.

Es la parte de lo que realicé en las 24 horas pasadas cuando trabajamos juntos pensativamente e intencionadamente. Es lo que realicé y aprendí cuando le miré estudiar detenidamente nuestro proceso y reunir un juego profundo y revelador de preguntas que creo proporcionará una presentación asombrosa para aquellos que asisten a nuestra sesión en San Francisco. Mientras usted no está allí en la persona, usted está allí de un modo mucho más profundo. Su brillantez mostrará por sin el resplandor físico usted ha proporcionado mi vida. Gracias tanto.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin