Friday, February 22, 2008

Resolution/Revelation

At a recent teacher’s inservice based on Parker Palmer’s The Courage to Teach, I was given time to write a resolution to myself–a resolution to have teaching become a sustainable career. All embarrassment of my sentimental gushiness aside, it was a well-timed, (perhaps career-saving) workshop, where I uncovered some important revelations, which I realize are now within my grasp to attain:

I commit to sustain, better yet, to cultivate my life- to dirty my hands in my yard, to prepare my grass to be played on, run on, camped on- to prepare my little plot of earth for fruit trees- plums, apples and pears- to build a strawberry tower, and fill it with bulbous fruit.

I commit to drinking a good red wine with my wife, while we sit and swoon on our back porch that is strung with paper lanterns and hanging flower baskets.

I will play catch with my sons whenever they ask me to. I will see every inning and cheer at every game. I will write to live, and live to write, reclaiming my body on Misery Ridge. I will remember every ridge that I have balanced myself upon and take the time to be silent.

And in that stillness, I will remember a story worth telling; no, beyond telling. I will hone my craft, and show my students the power of their stories. I will show them how to speak for themselves- show them the power of so many other stories, so that some day, in a time of great need, those stories mingled together with their own will have the power to transform their lives for the better.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

For Ron (and for those we lost):




I’ve just had the distinct pleasure of reconnecting with one of my dear friends from elementary – high school. He had just found out about a mutual friend of ours, named Chris, who died of an accidental drug overdose several years ago.

For those of you who know me well, what I am about to tell you will speak volumes. Ron was one of the key players on our Red Shirted Little League team sponsored by the Rock Creek Tavern. He is one of the autographed names on my stepfather’s baseball which is displayed in a place of honor in his office in Portland. But more importantly, the end of our childhoods spent on that West Union baseball diamond are etched into the fondest memories of my life. Ron even remembers when my father saw my first and last ballgame I’ve ever played, when I struck out in epic whiffing fashion while my father was trying to photograph me in the batter’s box. So in honor of our time together, and in memory of the teammates we lost, (Another of our teammates is in prison) I present the revised version of my story “Son of Abraham” in the next entry.

Bruce Cockburn once sang, “To be held in the heart of a friend is to be a king…” Ron is my friend from long ago, and it is so good to reconnect with him.