240. Weather Days

After a couple of years of being trapped at home, unable to do much, it might seem strange that I write about this as something I love about America, but I do love the occasional rainy day or snow day where you are just forced to change all of your plans. These are the kinds of things that force you to go out and shovel snow instead of going to work. You might have to stay inside and binge watch some television or some movies. You might take the opportunity to read that book you’ve set aside because you couldn’t find the time to read it. Maybe the power has gone out and you have to light some candles and rethink all of your meal plans because you can’t cook inside on your electric range.

These kinds of days—the days that make you rethink your plans—happen at any time of year. The weather has a way of making us realize that all of our plans and scheming aren’t really that important or that we didn’t really think them through. I’m retired, so I didn’t think these sorts of days would really happen much anymore, but then the rains of May and June started happening, the kinds of rain that make it impossible to get your yard work done, the kinds of rains that make your garden plot a mud hole that you can’t possibly till or plant. These are the days that force me to do that writing I wanted to do but kept putting off. These are the days when I start baking cookies in the afternoon because I can’t get much done outside. These are the days that are unexpectedly welcome because I have to remember that all of my plans aren’t really that important. What is important is that we are lucky enough to be alive to do things, like meaningless things that somehow have the capacity to remind us that it is the life that is important, not the activities.

Some people get distraught over these sorts of days because they get behind or simply have to give up on things. I learned sometime ago to embrace them and use the rainy days, the snow days, the sick days as a time to be thankful. I love them.

 

239. The Church

Another obvious thing that I love and have yet to write about is church. So much of my life has been organized by church because I have always enjoyed attending. There’s so much that I have learned about my own faith in church, besides the obvious fact that it has completely shaped my faith. It’s true that I don’t always fall in line with what others at my local congregations have chosen as dogma, but I have never placed myself in a congregation that fully goes against my thinking. I have always had room to believe and express my own opinions within my Christian faith. My faith is in God and the church has helped guide me in that faith but it is made up of human beings and we aren’t always the most reliable. So I don’t rest my faith in the church.

But the Christian church is the cultural shape by which our society in the west is structured. We have Christmas in the winter and Easter in the spring and even the most secular organizations recognize that structure either through respect or habit. And those of us who truly practice the faith, we go to services on Sunday. Maybe even other days in the week. So much so that our lives are structured around church and work.

Of course, for me the church is also the place where I have made hundreds of friends and committed myself to helping people. It has also committed me to the belief that no matter how bad things might seem there is something bigger than all of it in charge of making the things the way He wants them and I don’t need to worry. While I certainly haven’t put my faith in the church as an institution, I have put my faith in the God that it has pointed me to and I have dedicated my life to serving that God. Everything about the Christian church has shaped the person I am, even as, at times, I watch in dismay its hypocrisy. I still believe in the redemption and forgiveness of our God and I know that is fully extended to His church so I will continue to work toward its redemption. We’re all products of dysfunction and sin but that’s who we are, now we have to work to fix that. I love the church.

 

238. Planting

When I started writing this entry I was about a week behind in my planting of the garden. It has been rainy and cold and my rototiller wasn’t working so I had to get it repaired. I had already started pumpkins, winter squash, and zucchini plants in the garage. I spread manure on the garden space and bought tomato plants, tilled and finally planted when it wasn’t raining. I love doing all of that planting. I will probably be replanting some of the beans, but the corn seems to have come up wonderfully. Probably the only part I enjoy less as I age is the spreading of manure and tilling. I know I’ll be sore from those efforts and I don’t bounce back as quickly any more. But placing seeds and checking the plants every day just anticipating their germination is a hoot. Seeing that miraculous combination of compost, seed, sun, and water turn into garden produce that we can eat is just fun. Getting it all ready, while a little bit of work, is something that I love doing.

I anticipate what I want to grow and where I’m going to plant it in the late winter or early spring. Since we built our new garage I start seeds inside in March and April. I bought a moveable workbench table that I place below the single window in the garage. I have a heating pad that keeps the soil warm so that the seeds are quick to germinate. I did it once without a heating pad and had minimal success, probably because it doesn’t get all that warm in the garage in the spring. It’s definitely more fun to watch the seeds germinate up close. I also have the ability to baby them along and I love doing that. I control how much water they get so that they are never deluged with a spring rain. When they get big enough I transfer them to pots that I still keep in the garage and expose them to cooler temperatures. Then a day or two before I plant them in the garden I set them outside for a couple of nights, still monitoring them closely before finally setting them in the garden where they will hopefully produce fruit for the summer and fall. I just love the process of planting.

 

237. Monuments

On Memorial Day weekend around here it usually rains. No exception this year. So many people around here go camping, stopping by cemeteries to lay flowers on the graves of loved ones. We typically don’t camp, but we often visit a cemetery or two. That did not happen this year because we spent a week in Connecticut doing just that at the beginning of May. But one thing about the holiday that has struck me is the beauty of all the monuments we have in this country and how they help us stop and ponder the events that our nation has endured or enjoyed in the past.

I can’t say I think all monuments, in and of themselves, are wonderful. All of the monuments to confederates that were erected well after the southern states were reentered into the union are monuments to traitors that lost in their cause to rip our nation apart. I fully understand the desire to topple those by anyone who loves this country. Monuments are things that make my family cringe when I see them because I always want to stop and read them, and they are everywhere.

Monuments are historical markers of events and people that were and are important to their communities. These are everything from tombstones to roadside historical markers. They are the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Statue of Liberty. They are the Golden Gate Bridge and the sign at the park remembering Riverside Dance Hall and all the famous bands that came to play there. Sometimes they have poems like “Send me your tired and weary,” or “Here lies the body of…” Sometimes their markings are very prosaic, mentioning very simply the event or person they stand for. Sometimes you get enough information from the monument and sometimes they leave you hanging so you have to research their purpose. Sometimes they are just stones, while other times they are entire structures or buildings. Monuments are incredibly diverse, but they cause us to remember things and people that might easily be forgotten. Monuments are vital to our continuing understanding of ourselves and I love that.

236. Hope in America

 

I started this aspect of my blog—a list of things about America that I love—out of anguish over what was happening, the seeming rending of the fabric of our being so that we don’t even recognize each other anymore. It’s helped me realize even more how much I love my country and the great hope that Americans have for this nation of ours in spite of our sometimes irrational fears of what is happening or might happen to it. Sometimes when you are opposed to someone’s way of thinking you equate them to something evil and you want to eradicate that evil. That’s what has been happening with us from the foundation of our country. My hope, and the great hope of all Americans, is that we as a people get to the place where we live in harmony.

I am a firm believer in debate and finding common ground through that negotiation process. I believe that seeming polar opposites can find respite in the equators of our united existence so that we no longer inhabit long periods of darkness and long periods of light. America has a dark tumultuous existence, not because of our past but because of our humanity. But we have always had to reckon with our selves and, whether we like it or not, look at who we are and the ideals we hold. They have never matched, yet we strive to make that happen, to truly deliver “liberty and justice to all.” We believe—I believe—that we can achieve that goal. Just what liberty and justice are, just what our inalienable rights are as human beings, still has to be wrestled with every day. But Americans wrestle diligently and arduously with those ideas. Of course, we fail with it when it comes to racism, but we continue to wrestle it out. #Blacklivesmatter #Alllivesmatter And are those oppositional statements? Is one good and the other bad? Or are they both good and bad because they come from human anguish? Can we reconcile them? Let’s hope we can. Let’s try. Yes, I get despondent about my country but then I see the hope that we all strive for and I truly love it.

Commencement 2022

            Thank you, class of 2022, for asking me to be your commencement speaker. It’s an honor to be asked by you, because of all the classes I have spoken for in the past, you are the one class that I had for the shortest period of time. Not even a full year, really. My student teaching experience was almost as long. The icing on the cake for me, though, happens to be that I student taught only sophomores and my first two years of teaching were only sophomores. There was never a year in my 35 plus years of teaching that I didn’t teach sophomores.  Wise (Sophos, from the Greek) morons, the literal definition of sophomore. So Randon, this is why I became known as the openly rude teacher who willingly, albeit affectionately, called my students morons. Really, everyone does, they just don’t think about it quite the way I did.

I will admit that I have jokingly referred to you as the class, sophomores at the time, who forced my retirement. But, as you know, that was not the case at all. You weren’t even a tough class. In fact, you were down right nice to me all the time. Not exactly sophomoric. And you still are nice to me, asking me, of all people, to speak at your graduation, even after I called you morons. Of course, we were robbed of that last quarter when the real monotony of school begins. Will, would all of your teachers from the past two years say you were nice to them all the time? Brady, you were always nice, weren’t you? Most teachers are fairly forgiving, so you’ll be all right if you weren’t. But at any rate, I digress. You’ll forgive me if I seem to ramble a bit as I go. I’ll pull it together for you in the end. Josie, I’m not one to follow my advice on writing an essay with an up-front thesis statement in my speeches because that’s not really how conversation works. Speaking of conversation, Patrick, you and I need to talk. We have a lot in common because of all the people we know here and in Deary even if we don’t really know each other.

            But back to you as a class. The tail end of your required formal education has been highly unusual compared to past years. Some will say you might be hopelessly behind because of test scores (as if any of that EVER mattered). They’ll cite any possible deficit they can, because, well… Becca, you might have noticed, we have a lot of Chicken Little’s in the world, always worried that the sky is falling. Most of those Chicken Little’s seem to hold public office. But we human beings are resilient, and you all will prove that even more so. You’ll have all kinds of Pandemic stories to tell your children, but, if past generations are any sign of how that works, your children will probably know nothing about the pandemic. I never heard Spanish Flu stories as a kid, yet my grandparents all lived through it. There’s no doubt that it has probably colored your view of the world, maybe people as well. All those lessons on polite behavior seem to have been lost on some of us older folk, while, hopefully Dawni, you’ve observed the “do as I say, not as I do” attitude with a bit of a smirk.

            Much has changed in the past few years and the pandemic sped some of that up. Two years ago I had never heard of Zoom, and while I had Face Timed a couple of times, I felt that it was an art in holding the phone at such an angle that I didn’t have to worry whether I’d trimmed my nose hairs. So I preferred texting or old fashioned talks on the phone. I’ve had to get over that. Now most meetings are held over Zoom or some hybrid. You can now be a part of your local church congregation and never even physically attend the service. That kind of stuff is not going away. Henry, I hear you’re into all this new e-sport thing. This is your time, as long as you can survive murderous peanut shenanigans of the likes of Levi. While me, I’m guessing I was the last teacher to actually use chalk in this building. I know I am the last to have taught in it without walls. And many of your parents were right there with me. We’re of another era, but you are here. So you see what I mean about people being resilient. We survive the most idiotic ideas (no walls in a school?) and some of the bleakest of times when we need to.

            We took my dad back to Connecticut this last month. In fact, I was in Boston getting ready to come home when Emma texted me to ask if I would speak here today. We were at the Paul Revere House when I got her text. My dad was born in Connecticut, but hadn’t been back since 1949. The reason they moved out here was one of those bleak stories of cancer and death but incredible resilience as well. Anyway, we visited family and saw his old stomping grounds and literally begged him to tell us stories about a very different Connecticut. We ate it up because he’s the last in his generation of our family. And we visited lots of cemeteries, MacKenzie.  It dawned upon me then, as it did again this last Memorial Day when I was just getting over my own bout of COVID, that we are the blessing of all those family members buried there. We, the living, Jack, are the blessings of the dead. All of their strivings were for us. Those cemeteries in Connecticut are old, but there are a lot of really new graves from these past two years. I’d say it’s more noticeable in more populous areas, but maybe the pain of loss is more acutely felt here where we all know each other and just one person leaves a gaping hole. Just our country alone has lost over one million people. I know we haven’t made it unscathed, and how behind students are in school is probably the least of the after affects.

            Misinformation, conspiracies, and lies are not new to us, but they seem to flourish in this climate. They can really cause harm. You have to look at facts to determine what is right. You have to turn off the voices that tell you not to believe the facts. Sometimes you just have to dig really deep to find the truth, and you have to let go of things that you thought were right when you find out they aren’t. You have to have faith that there is something bigger than all the mess of humanity with it’s fears and lies. If there weren’t something bigger, how could we be so resilient? How could we overcome the onslaught of diseases that have plagued us forever? We could not.

            We educate our children because we believe that there is something worth living for, something more beautiful than the dark whisperings we find even ourselves speaking. And it’s not because we want them to continually break themselves, Mr. Quiring. And it’s not just to help them see the sunlight in June on the green of the Palouse. It’s not just these tremendous gatherings we hold at the end of the year that say you made it. It’s to help you decipher lies from truth whether that be in the sciences or the arts or the humanities—all of those studies, no matter how mundane they have undoubtedly become, help you decipher the truth from the lies. And right now there is a whole contingent of people that doesn’t believe that’s possible, that maybe you have somehow been indoctrinated with some falsehood, that no one has taught you to think for yourselves. Those people, Olivia, deserve one of your spikes right in the chops. I already know that you are quite able to think for yourselves. Not that you always do it. I’ve watched you in groups at the crosswalk down here at Scenic 6 just keep talking and walk into the street assuming someone else looked for cars, and I’ve heard the screeching of car brakes at that cross walk. That I’ve only had one heart attack, Dominic, is more proof of human resilience. We all have done that group think in one way or another, even though we all know to look both ways before crossing. It’s important, even in our groups, to look both ways. I mean that both literally and metaphorically. We are, after all, Americans. No, Mr. McGuire, there is nothing wrong with thinking independently.

            We have come through a pretty turbulent time and now we have to clean up some of the mess that comes after a violent storm. We are here for a reason and we celebrate that together now, as the blessings of those who have gone before us because we are continuing to live, the thing that our ancestors wanted for us from the very beginning. And sometimes life is just messy and people are people, full of fears and doubts. We forget to just look up away from the ugly messes that come from whatever reason and have faith. But really, look up. Breathe. Maybe use one of your hobbies to get your head in a good place. I hear Austin plays a mean guitar. That’s a great thing. Things like that help us know there is something bigger and we are a result of that. We need to not think the world revolves around us, and let go of those trappings that hold us back. We also need to forgive others for being so human, so like us. I can’t tell you how often I have seen people hold grudges over really stupid things. It’s not worth it because it only hurts you, not the person you can’t forgive. So let it go. That’s the best way to carry on and find happiness in life. Be kind. Be forgiving. And don’t be afraid to remind yourself of that over and over. You see a stupid post on social media that really just burns you? Scroll past it. It doesn’t help you feel better to leave a nasty comment just because you have some anonymity.

            You have beautiful friends and family here witnessing your accomplishments. And it wasn’t easy for us. We learned, Kenzie, that the internet is really crappy around here, didn’t we? Do you remember those goofy videos I did to try to explain Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar to you? You had to read that alone and watch a very poor internet version. Did you read it, Sierra? Don’t worry, I’m not kidding myself. You all learned enough to fake it till you made it on those essay tests, so at least I accomplished something with you. Just remember to “Beware the Ides of March,” and figure out if your friends really think you might be getting too ambitious. History shows us that people have a way about them that isn’t always the best. I could have just told you the Romans had 10 months, but they added July for Julius Caesar, August for little Gus Caesar and to watch your backs and you would have had the gist of the importance of the whole play without all the “This was the noblest Roman of them all,” malarkey. (If you wonder, yes I do have that whole thing memorized, it’s the one constant I taught for 36 years to you wise morons!) But you got less of that and got to watch me hike in the woods and talk imbecilically to my phone and post it on Classroom. And Izack, you still found ways to sell me things! We all not only survived, we are thriving, hence the funky gowns you have on. Good job! We are, indeed, resilient.

            You aren’t getting an easy life handed to you like some of us Boomers. I remember being advised that to buy a home you should have an income that equaled at least half of what the cost of a home would be so that you could afford the payments. Let me tell you, you guys ain’t buying a new house too soon. Little starter homes in Potlatch are selling for a quarter of a million and you won’t find jobs starting at $150K around here right now. But, in spite of that, you do have a great resource in this community and we will help you in any way we can. So Brandon, don’t forget your roots here in Potlatch. Your friends and family, Jessica, the ones who both love and irritate you, are the ones to hold close. That’s exactly why I say you have to remember to forgive. Because sometimes, well, we’re just stupid. That’s part of our humanity and I’m sure you’ve noticed it. But you needn’t say anything about that, Logan. Remember what I said about comments on social media? That applies doubly when you are in person. What’s to stop us from slapping you upside the head? Remember, I am retired now. But Odin you’re safe. I’m not stupid, even if you are easy going, I’m not tempting fate.

            So here you are. Maybe you aren’t feeling all that resilient, but you are. You aren’t those little smart—excuse me—wise morons anymore. You aren’t even Seniors anymore. In fact, you have quite a few years left to regain that title (the sophomoric Tyson is saying, “ok Boomer” after kissing my bald spot--ewww). Now, remember that there is something bigger than you, than any of us. Have faith in that and hold on to it. People are not faithful or honest, so since you are a person, forgive people for being ridiculously human, because with all of those weaknesses we are still very resilient. We also have a way of making big messes with our actions because we lack foresight. It’s your job now, to tackle those messes. That’s why we are the blessings of all those ancestors who aren’t here with us anymore. We get to clean up their messes. So roll up your sleeves, class of 2022, because you have work to do. Commence living in all your beautiful resilient humanity. We love you.

 Find the spoken version here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17Gj7h4PY-s