A year ago this week I was down to just a few days of school left in my 36 years in the classroom. It was a huge decision for me. I have missed the classroom and my students but have embraced my new life. The first time I heard myself say, “I was a teacher,” it sounded like a grammatical mistake to me. I had never said that before. For all of my adult life I had said, “I am a teacher.” I am a real estate agent now and am enjoying my new life. I like the different schedule, the different work, and the new challenges. I feel good about the work I do for people. They appreciate my work and my communication and I like that. Still, as I complete my first year of full time real estate sales it gives me pause for some reflection. There are so many things I would like to say now while I take time to reflect on the past year. As this year has progressed I have been very aware of what I would have been doing if I was still in the classroom. So many things, to remember, so many things… I think often of My Alumni and certainly thought often of the amazing junior class I finished with and what they would have been like as seniors. Again there are so many things I would like to say as I reflect but think I would use up all the space eBlogger allows you to have if I said it all. I decided to publish an email exchange as a way of trying to “summarize” some of my thoughts and reflections and to show what I miss most.
With Bill’s permission I am publishing the exchange between the two of us. He sent me an email in April 2008 asking me some questions and also saying some moving things that I really appreciated. He sent me the email again in February 2010 and asked for answers to questions again.
Bill begins in February 2010 and references an email from 2008. He says:
I keep old e-mails so I can follow up on things. Both professional and personal. At the bottom of this e-mail I sent to you just under 2 years ago; I had some questions. Some rhetorical, some not.
I would like some answers...
Going Out the Out Door?
How does a 36 year career conclude?
Are you going to wear a tie or work out clothes?
Will you cry? Laugh? See the faces of friends new and old? Will Kate be with you?
Will you still have boxes in your room or will it be cleaned up already?
Will you leave the lights on or the doors open?
Will you visit the old room one last time?
Will you exit down the long front drive of MPHS slowly over the speed bumps or zip out the back way twisting through the shade go past the old wooden Marysville Pilchuck sign?
Will the world stop? Will they know what just happened? Or will the world miss this major event from occurring? Will CNN cover it live? King 5? The Marysville Globe? Will the annual have a page about you in it?
Is it the end of compassionate education? Or just a sign of it?
From: Bill Fortunato
Date: 4/14/2008 12:37:51 PM
To: jkpankiewicz@comcast.net
Subject: My Teacher: Mr. P
I have been thinking about this quite a bit over the last week. I have been meaning to send you an e-mail since our dinner last week. Currently I am heading down to San Diego for the day to meet with a client. It is one of the joys of modern business. You can get anywhere on the west coast and back the same day. But it is tiring.
(My flight just returned to SeaTac because we had a fire warning light. Instead of being on the ground in SD for 9 hours, I will be on the ground for 6 hours. Yippy)
On making a difference and changing the world.
I heard you and Becky talking about this over dinner. My wish is that you never doubt yourself for one second. Through the years, it is clear to all that you have made a difference in so many students. It is not one student a year. Not one a quarter. Not one per period. You don't pick a favorite kid. Not a favorite class of kids. It is your goal change each of them. You not only teach, you inspire, mentor, and encourage.
Hundreds came before me and hundreds came after me. I don't believe any of your alumni would claim they felt like the class, events or teachings were routine. You never began to coast or let up.
It is said that it is worthwhile to be in education if you make a difference in one person's life. I am glad that you did not stop after just one. You have changed the world for hundreds of us.
Mr. P's Small Learning Community
School within a school. Learning communities. All this sounds familiar to me. Didn't you already achieve this in your classes? A smaller group within the school. It gives the student a sense of belonging. An area of interest that they can explore in depth learning.
Why is it this has to be administered from the top? Does it to have to be branded, labeled, analyzed, measured, metered and tracked to make sure it is good. Why can't it be good on its own?
Does it have to be wrapped up as the complete answer to all?
Is "no child left behind" an achievable goal? It is almost like 100% employment for a nation. It is a grand concept, but not a reality. My feeling is some are always left behind. Some have to be. Some choose to be. The ones that choose a different path are not bad or wrong. If we all took the same path, the world would be uninteresting. Flat, dull.
The community you build in your program should be the goal of the current model. It makes me sad that a model would be heralded as the solution to all would discourage someone that already provides this to his students.
My Path
I can't say my path was radical. Took the collage bound path all the way. Knew I was going to be an engineer in my junior year. Not a tough path to figure out. Went to a four year college and finished in four years. Pretty linear.
One thing I did do that would take me a different direction would be to drop French and take a class called Senior Sales and Marketing. To this day, I draw from the lessons I learned in an elective class. A class that I was told would not help me get scholarships or elevate my academic standing. I can't remember most of the lessons from high school. Not saying that I don't remember anything. This non-scholastic class was the one the stands out more than any other in high school.
Mostly I remember what it was like to be a part of the community we build that year. Hugs, high fives, tears, pounding. We believed it. Pounding. Believed it everything we had. Pounding. Believing.
My DECA Beads of Honor mean more to me than graduating "with honors" ever would have.
Going Out the Out Door?
How does a 36 year career conclude? Are you going to wear a tie or workout clothes? Will you cry? Laugh? See the faces of friends new and old? Will Kate be with you? Will you still have boxes in your room or will it be cleaned up already. Will you leave the lights on or the doors open? Will you visit the old room one last time? Will you exit down the long front drive of MPHS slowly over the speed bumps or zip out the back way twisting through the shade go past the old wooden Marysville-Pilchuck sign?
Will the world stop? Will they know what just happened? Or will the world miss this major event from occurring? Will CNN cover it live? King 5? The Marysville Globe? Will the annual have a page about you in it?
Is it the end of compassionate education? Or just a sign of it? The Marysville School District will not be the same. Nor will the state of education.
Perhaps a little dramatic. Yes, the sun will rise. Children in Marysville, Washington will go to school. The kids will likely not even know there is anything missing. I hope and pray there is another in the district that may match what is being lost.
In 14 Months
To you my friend, I hope I get invited to whatever event is held in your honor. Or at very least, I would feel honored to carry a box or two.
All the best to you. Much love.
Billy
Bill Fortunato, P.E.
PACLAND
1505 Westlake Avenue N, Suite 305
Seattle, WA 98109
Office: (206) 522-9510
Fax: (206) 522-8344
This is my reply to Bill in February 2010. It includes my answers to his questions.
Reply |Jim Pankiewicz to Bill
show details Feb 27, 2010
Good morning My Young Friend,
It touched me quite a lot to reread your email. You know, I still think about school every day. Not in the way I once did but I still do nevertheless. I still hear myself talking to kids; I can still see their faces. I don't think much anymore about the adults, not by any conscious choice, it just seems to have happened. Yesterday, I got a thank you note from a parent of a kid I had in class last year. It still gets to me. Thinking about kids in general is sort of like background music in my head and heart now. When I think about specific individuals that's different particularly if they still are an active part of my life.
How does a 36 year career conclude?
I haven't thought much about that last day for some time. Your email prompts me to recall.
There are so many ways to answer the question. It concluded on June 16, 2009 at 2:20. It was a day, like any day; it was a day like no other.
Many years ago we went to a finals schedule for the end of the year. One hundred minute periods. A one hundred minute, period six final on the fourth to the last day, with the remaining classes at about 30 minutes. One hundred minute finals for periods 5 and 4, on the third to the last day. Periods 3 and 2, on the second to the last day. And just period one on the last day.
The retirement party had been on Saturday, June 13. It was supposed to be the day after the last day of school. We had two snow days so we were back at school on Monday and Tuesday. It was a bit weird to be in school after the party. I had had seniors in periods two and three so I had no kids on Monday. I spent a good deal of time just getting rid of things.
On Tuesday, June 16, 2009, I had only my first period. I gave a final because that is what I'm supposed to do and because I wanted to read the answers. There was no way I was going to let what they wrote take all 100 minutes. I asked "regular school" questions like, "List the steps of the sale." "Give an example of steps 1, 3, 4, 5." "Write five feature/benefit statements for each of the following products and services." "Explain each of the elements of promotion and how we used them in a large scale project." Etc., I also asked a couple "not regular school" questions. I want, or wanted, kids to be able to say what they learned. I can still hear a couple teachers saying some years ago, "Why would you ask a question like that--how could they possibly explain what they learned?" Maybe they were right and I was wrong. Maybe if they can't explain or show what they learned then heck, maybe they didn't learn anything. I don't know if someone can always explain what they learned. Either way I asked, "What did you learn? Explain in your own words. If you put that you didn't learn a single thing I will give you credit for answering the question. Just don't be sarcastic please." And then I asked, "Okay, it's 10 years from now, it's 20 years from now. You have never been back to the MP campus. You don't remember much about high school. Much of it is a blur. Think about what you just said you learned in the previous question. Does it still matter to you? How have you used it for these past 10 or 20 years? If you have, how will you continue to use it?" Some of their answers brought tears.
I read all of the finals, I graded them, and I even wrote comments on virtually every one of them. Old habits die hard. Some kids told me they would come back to and get their papers later in the day. A few actually did. I entered them in the electronic gradebook, entered comments and submitted final grades for the last time.
They knew that I remembered the name of the first kid who walked in my room 36 years ago. Suzanne Paine. They knew that I remembered the name of the kid whose paper I first corrected. Radie Smutek. Some of them held their papers so that they could turn it in last so it would be the last one I corrected. It got a bit silly so I just shuffled them and told them to just turn theirs in because I wasn't finished with class. Finally there was a last paper.
I had really bonded with this class. It was all juniors. Twenty-six of them. They were really quite extraordinary. In terms of native intelligence they were honestly a room full of kids. Some were behind on credits, most were doing fine in high school. There wasn't a kid in the room with a 4.0. I believe the highest GPA was a 3.6. In so many ways they were just a bunch of ordinary kids. Their responses to things, their commitment, their repeated willingness to risk and to care was what made them so extraordinary. Both individually and collectively they felt, and acted on, an amazing sense of empowerment. They were special. Very, very special.
They were, for an aging teacher, a wonderful class to have on the last day. While they were angry with me for retiring what they felt was one year early, they were very pleased to be that last class.
After the final, we sat in the circle one last time. We had made time for any of them who wanted to speak to do so. Many of them did. It was moving. And then, I did "a few words" one last time. It was very emotional for me. It was comfortable, it was familiar, it was eerie. Do you know, even on that last day, after so damn many years, I was still nervous to do it? Not just nervous to be finishing but nervous to do the few words. What can I say...
The period ended and it was time to say goodbye. I stood at the doorway and said goodbye to each one of them. I hugged anyone who wanted to hug. They all did, even the boys.
A few of them lingered because they wanted to be the last one to walk out the door. The last three finally walked out together.
There was an end of the year faculty luncheon in the small cafeteria. We say goodbye to staff leaving for any reason. The person gets a card and a gift and someone presents it. Several people were leaving. Some had been pink slipped, some were just quitting education, some were transferring to another school or moving to another city. One was retiring after 36 years and he was last. Mr. Stokes had been asked to present the gift and say something. I have to say he was eloquent. I wish I had a copy of what he said. He got very choked up and had to stop a couple times. I was definitely moved. I don't even remember what the gift from the staff was. It was a gift certificate but I don't remember to where. Ted's I think. I think people expected me to say more than I did. I simply said, "Thank you Mr. Stokes, thank you very much." We hugged. Then I said, "Thank you staff. I leave Marysville-Pilchuck with a deep, profound, and enduring sense of gratitude for the privilege of having been a teacher. Thank you very much." And then I sat down. Some people shook my hand and said a few things to me.
Is it the end of compassionate education? Or just a sign of it?
I went back to my room to finish things up. I really expected to just have the rest of the afternoon kind of to myself to throw out the last few things. Several staff members stopped by to say goodbye. I appreciated all of them. A few seniors who had just graduated the week before came by to say goodbye. I think I was the most surprised by Mr. Kittle. He is a young teacher--I think about 8 or 9 years in the classroom. He is also the girl’s soccer coach. I have never had more than a brief hello type of conversation with him. I have never had the same lunch as him and never sat next to him in a meeting. So I was surprised when he came in; I guess I was surprised at what he said. He said congratulations on a long and successful career and things like that. That was nice of course since we really don't even know each other. Then he told me how much he appreciated the way I work with kids and that I was the teacher he aspired to be like. I got wide eyed and said thank you of course but also chuckled a bit and said to him that we had never really talked so I hoped he wasn't making me into something I wasn't. He chuckled back and explained that he had a lot of my kids in his classroom and several of his soccer players were in my classes through the years. He said that he appreciated the types of things we took on and how it benefitted the school and the community. He said that kids talked about me in ways they didn't talk about other teachers. He even said in passing that he thought his girls might even be a little better soccer players because of the program. I said that we did unusual things but no soccer drills. I thanked him very much and said, "Young Mr. Kittle, you had the heart to come over here and say what you did to an aging teacher you don't know. Take that heart and use it to risk in the classroom. Not just with your team but in the classroom too." We shook hands and I said thanks again and he left.
I started this response early this morning. I had two meetings with clients so now I am getting back to it.
Are you going to wear a tie or workout clothes?
In 1986 I couldn't stand one of the administrators at the time. An opening came up at Woodinville HS and I applied. I had an interview with Bob Boesche, the vocational director. He was thrilled that I was interested. We talked for 2 hours. He said that I was his first choice but that the principal still had to interview me and give his approval. I was interviewed by the principal, Dave Rumppe, along with two vice-principals whose names escape me. He told me early on in the interview that he was reluctant to hire me because he said that he didn't want the DECA program to get too big. I told him that I didn't want it to get too big either. I was only with the principals for an hour. A few days later Bob Boesche called me to say that they had chosen another candidate over his objections. I pouted for four days. I thought about the juniors I had that year and knew that I would have a good year with them as seniors the next fall. I resolved to make the best of things with the administrator I didn’t like. As it turned out he left that October and his replacement was great. Had I got that job in Woodinville I believe I would have liked it and done well. Still, I would not have met so many other amazing kids at MPHS so I am very grateful to Mr. Rumppe for not hiring me. I would have never known you for instance. After that, I pretty well knew that I would retire from MPHS. So I can say that since that point I always knew what I would wear on the last day. A white shirt and a red tie. There just wasn't any question.
Will you still have boxes in your room or will it be cleaned up already?
I had been getting rid of things for months actually. Doing it a little at a time helped me with the transition and it helped me manage the workload. I actually brought very little home. My yearbooks, my pictures, some speech notes, and a few awards, are all that made it. Loads and loads of stuff went in the dumpster. On that last day there were still some things to get rid of and I still had to take a few things out to my vehicle. Because several people came by to say hello or goodbye I was a bit later getting finished with these things than I thought I would be. I had expected to have an hour to just sit quietly and think. As it was I only had a few minutes but that was fine. The chairs were up, the room was neat, everything was off the walls, the file cabinets were empty, books were stacked and in order; things were ready for the new teacher. I wrote him/her a short note wishing him/her the best and left it on the desk.
The last day of school is early dismissal for kids but it is a full day for the teachers. Reality is that people leave as soon as their grades are turned in and the rest of their summer checkout form is completed. By 1:00 the campus is pretty darn empty except for the secretaries, the principals, and the custodians.
For years I had got to school early and left late. I still got to school at 6:30 on that last day and still stayed until 2:20. I just needed to do that.
I did have the chance to sit for a few minutes and reflect. I was not willing to leave before my contract day was over but I didn't want to stay until it was dark either. I had made up my mind some time before that I would leave precisely at 2:20. It helped me to know when it was the end. At 2:20 I got up, walked over to the door, turned and faced the room, kissed the wall, thanked God out loud for the privilege, and stepped out of the room with my face to the classroom. I locked the door and walked over to BE-6, my old room, the one you had class in. I let myself in and spent a few minutes remembering. Then I went over to the office to turn my keys in. It was a solitary moment as I guess it should be. We all had to turn our keys in the year of the strike. Other than that I had never turned my keys in for the summer before. I got a little light headed when I took them off the ring. I hugged the two registrars who took my keys and said goodbye to them. I walked out to my vehicle and just headed down the driveway at a normal pace. Certainly I was aware that it was the last time. I knew I was no longer Mr. P.
It was, as you know, a difficult decision. It is one about which I have no regrets. I have embraced my new life. In fact, this afternoon I listed the home of one of my alumni. I will be inputing it into the Multiple here shortly.
I appreciate you sending me this email again Bill. I have reread it several times. Thanks for asking me the questions again. I value your continued friendship and am thrilled for you that you have a new daughter. I look forward to meeting her.
With love,
P
That is the end of the email exchange. I spoke with Mayor Kendall two weeks ago. We talked for half an hour about a lot of things. He knew the end of the school year was coming up and while he asked me if I missed the classroom it was more like he volunteered what it was he knew I missed most of all. He said, "You miss the realationships, don't you." It wasn't really a question. Yes, I miss the relationships and I appreciate the relationships I have with Alumni with whom I am still in touch even if is just casual exchanges on Facebook.
Looking back over this year I miss the classroom. I would repeat what I said to the staff. I leave (left) Marysville-Pilchuck with a deep, profound and enduring sense of gratitude for the privilege of having been a teacher.
To all of my Alumni, one year later, thank you so very, very much
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Forgiveness: Part III
I started this post months ago. I have drafted something, revised it, thought about it, deleted it, and started it all over.
At age 59 I have to admit that sometimes I'm just not as good at forgiving as I should be or could be. Depending on circumstances I have excuses and in some cases I have some very good reasons to not forgive.
I find myself, reminding myself, and relearning that sometimes the best reason to forgive someone isn't because they deserve it. Sometimes they don't deserve forgiveness. Maybe the best reason for me to forgive someone is for my own peace of mind and peace of heart.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
At age 59 I have to admit that sometimes I'm just not as good at forgiving as I should be or could be. Depending on circumstances I have excuses and in some cases I have some very good reasons to not forgive.
I find myself, reminding myself, and relearning that sometimes the best reason to forgive someone isn't because they deserve it. Sometimes they don't deserve forgiveness. Maybe the best reason for me to forgive someone is for my own peace of mind and peace of heart.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Gary and Josh
The Everett Parks Department sponsors a kid’s fish-in at Silver Lake each May. The Evergreen Fly Fishing Club, which I am a member of, helps with the event. There is a net pen full of fish set up near the shore and kids who come can catch up to two fish each. Fishing poles, reels, and bait are provided for the kids. It is a popular and well attended event every year.
At our fly club meetings part of our agenda is for each of us to give fishing reports and for officers and committee chairs to give reports.
At our last meeting, during the fishing reports, one our members Gary talked about the fishing he had done since the last meeting and then said that he wanted to talk about a kid he had helped at the fish-in. The boy, Josh, came with his grandpa. Gary said that as they approached he saw that Josh had a white cane so he knew working with him was going to be different. Gary explained that besides being blind Josh was also autistic so he didn’t say much at all. Gary handed Josh the fishing pole and explained to him what he was holding and had him feel the whole thing. Josh had never fished before. Gary also had him touch the reel and turn the handle and then feel the line and the hook. Gary baited the hook for him and cast it out. In short order Josh had a fish, his first ever, and he reeled it in. Gary picked up the trout and let Josh feel it and stick his fingers in its mouth. Gary set him up again and Josh caught a second fish.
This time of year the guys in the club do a lot of fishing so almost everyone has a fishing report. Some of the reports are lengthy and some are short; most are interesting. Of all the reports that evening going away I enjoyed Gary’s story of helping Josh more than anything. I was moved that Gary was so careful to take Josh for who he was and to help him have a good experience.
It gets too easy for me sometimes to complain and be cynical about the world. As soon as Gary was finished talking I put both my arms in the air, kind of like the touchdown signal, and then did two thumbs up towards him. I appreciated so much hearing this story of one human being reaching out to another who he had never met. I appreciated how Gary treated Josh with respect and dignity. I take inspiration from things like this; it encourages me to want to be a better person.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
At our fly club meetings part of our agenda is for each of us to give fishing reports and for officers and committee chairs to give reports.
At our last meeting, during the fishing reports, one our members Gary talked about the fishing he had done since the last meeting and then said that he wanted to talk about a kid he had helped at the fish-in. The boy, Josh, came with his grandpa. Gary said that as they approached he saw that Josh had a white cane so he knew working with him was going to be different. Gary explained that besides being blind Josh was also autistic so he didn’t say much at all. Gary handed Josh the fishing pole and explained to him what he was holding and had him feel the whole thing. Josh had never fished before. Gary also had him touch the reel and turn the handle and then feel the line and the hook. Gary baited the hook for him and cast it out. In short order Josh had a fish, his first ever, and he reeled it in. Gary picked up the trout and let Josh feel it and stick his fingers in its mouth. Gary set him up again and Josh caught a second fish.
This time of year the guys in the club do a lot of fishing so almost everyone has a fishing report. Some of the reports are lengthy and some are short; most are interesting. Of all the reports that evening going away I enjoyed Gary’s story of helping Josh more than anything. I was moved that Gary was so careful to take Josh for who he was and to help him have a good experience.
It gets too easy for me sometimes to complain and be cynical about the world. As soon as Gary was finished talking I put both my arms in the air, kind of like the touchdown signal, and then did two thumbs up towards him. I appreciated so much hearing this story of one human being reaching out to another who he had never met. I appreciated how Gary treated Josh with respect and dignity. I take inspiration from things like this; it encourages me to want to be a better person.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pearl Harbor
About a month ago Katy and were in Hawaii. We toured Pearl Harbor on the island of Oahu. It was quite moving. On a Sunday morning, December 7, 1941 this was the site of the Japanese attack on the U. S. Pacific Fleet.
Many of us have seen the movie Tora, Tora, Tora or the movie Pearl Harbor. For many years I have wanted to see this place. I have wanted to tour the Arizona Memorial. I can’t explain why but I have particularly wanted to see the hill that the first wave of Japanese planes flew over. There is a line in the movie Gladiator just before the Romans attack the last stronghold in Germania, where as General Maximus gives the command to attack, he says to Quintus, “Unleash hell.” As Commander Fuchida led the first wave of the attack over the mountains to begin bombing, he realized that the Japanese fleet had achieved total surprise. To communicate that to his fleet he broke radio silence and yelled, “Tora, Tora, Tora” and in a matter of moments they unleashed hell.
A bomb went through the forward deck of the Arizona and exploded an ammunition magazine. The ship was sunk in the harbor and still rests there. 1,177 died on the ship and many are entombed with the wreckage. Oil still leaks from the Arizona. I spent some time reading the names on the list of men who died on the Arizona. Several times I saw the same last name; in some cases there were three and even four men with the same last name. I felt that this couldn’t all be coincidence so I asked a tour guide about it. We learned that there were 37 sets of brothers on the ship. Twenty-three sets died that day.
When we worked on and built our Veteran’s Memorial at Marysville-Pilchuck we learned what a gold star family is. A gold star family is one who has lost a son or daughter in combat. What would it have been like to lose all of your sons in one minute? I found myself remembering Kristen Hendrix, MPHS 2006 reading the dedication along with Gold Star Mom, Betty Pearson. I remembered Katey and Kelly Robertson walking Hazel Hammond out to the memorial where she very gently touched the name of her KIA son, Jack Hammond. I thought about Marine Corporal, Jack Elkins, from Washington State who survived the Bataan death march. I remembered his grandson, Marine Lieutenant Brian Hensarling. I remembered Marine Veterans, Greg Chiaravalle and Brian Johnson, who show their respect by volunteering to maintain the Memorial.
We also toured the battleship Missouri where the Japanese formally surrendered. Again, it was all very moving.
As you walk up to the spot where you board the ferry to the Arizona Memorial there are 18 display boards on the path. Board number 16 gives information about the first wave of the attack and has a picture of Commander Fuchida.
Walking by I saw an elderly Japanese man reading this board. He was crying. It wasn’t the kind of crying where he had just a moment of being choked up with a lone tear; he was crying hard, the kind of crying you can hear not just see. I wondered what he was thinking and feeling. Was he feeling shame for the carnage his ancestors caused that Sunday morning almost 70 years ago? Was he related to one of the sailors or aviators involved in the attack? Was he related to someone else who fought in the war? Almost for sure he is; I am. Was he feeling the lifetime of pain that the families of the dead would feel? What about those families who lost all their sons in one morning? Was he feeling shame? I wondered if maybe he was crying so hard because he might even be related to Fuchida. I also wondered if maybe he cried so hard because he had family who died when the Enola Gay dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Did he have family in Hiroshima or Nagasaki? Was he feeling a intense, seething anger for these attacks? Did he have friends and family who fought and died in the war? What was that old man feeling?
I wonder if he was feeling almost all of those things.
No matter what he thought about the past I wondered if he was feeling tremendous gratitude. All he had to do was purchase a plane ticket and show a passport to be able to stand on American soil. If I want to go to Japan all I have to do is purchase a plane ticket and show my passport. That we could both stand there did not happen without tremendous sacrifices. Maybe he was moved by those sacrifices. I surely was.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cares carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Many of us have seen the movie Tora, Tora, Tora or the movie Pearl Harbor. For many years I have wanted to see this place. I have wanted to tour the Arizona Memorial. I can’t explain why but I have particularly wanted to see the hill that the first wave of Japanese planes flew over. There is a line in the movie Gladiator just before the Romans attack the last stronghold in Germania, where as General Maximus gives the command to attack, he says to Quintus, “Unleash hell.” As Commander Fuchida led the first wave of the attack over the mountains to begin bombing, he realized that the Japanese fleet had achieved total surprise. To communicate that to his fleet he broke radio silence and yelled, “Tora, Tora, Tora” and in a matter of moments they unleashed hell.
A bomb went through the forward deck of the Arizona and exploded an ammunition magazine. The ship was sunk in the harbor and still rests there. 1,177 died on the ship and many are entombed with the wreckage. Oil still leaks from the Arizona. I spent some time reading the names on the list of men who died on the Arizona. Several times I saw the same last name; in some cases there were three and even four men with the same last name. I felt that this couldn’t all be coincidence so I asked a tour guide about it. We learned that there were 37 sets of brothers on the ship. Twenty-three sets died that day.
When we worked on and built our Veteran’s Memorial at Marysville-Pilchuck we learned what a gold star family is. A gold star family is one who has lost a son or daughter in combat. What would it have been like to lose all of your sons in one minute? I found myself remembering Kristen Hendrix, MPHS 2006 reading the dedication along with Gold Star Mom, Betty Pearson. I remembered Katey and Kelly Robertson walking Hazel Hammond out to the memorial where she very gently touched the name of her KIA son, Jack Hammond. I thought about Marine Corporal, Jack Elkins, from Washington State who survived the Bataan death march. I remembered his grandson, Marine Lieutenant Brian Hensarling. I remembered Marine Veterans, Greg Chiaravalle and Brian Johnson, who show their respect by volunteering to maintain the Memorial.
We also toured the battleship Missouri where the Japanese formally surrendered. Again, it was all very moving.
As you walk up to the spot where you board the ferry to the Arizona Memorial there are 18 display boards on the path. Board number 16 gives information about the first wave of the attack and has a picture of Commander Fuchida.
Walking by I saw an elderly Japanese man reading this board. He was crying. It wasn’t the kind of crying where he had just a moment of being choked up with a lone tear; he was crying hard, the kind of crying you can hear not just see. I wondered what he was thinking and feeling. Was he feeling shame for the carnage his ancestors caused that Sunday morning almost 70 years ago? Was he related to one of the sailors or aviators involved in the attack? Was he related to someone else who fought in the war? Almost for sure he is; I am. Was he feeling the lifetime of pain that the families of the dead would feel? What about those families who lost all their sons in one morning? Was he feeling shame? I wondered if maybe he was crying so hard because he might even be related to Fuchida. I also wondered if maybe he cried so hard because he had family who died when the Enola Gay dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Did he have family in Hiroshima or Nagasaki? Was he feeling a intense, seething anger for these attacks? Did he have friends and family who fought and died in the war? What was that old man feeling?
I wonder if he was feeling almost all of those things.
No matter what he thought about the past I wondered if he was feeling tremendous gratitude. All he had to do was purchase a plane ticket and show a passport to be able to stand on American soil. If I want to go to Japan all I have to do is purchase a plane ticket and show my passport. That we could both stand there did not happen without tremendous sacrifices. Maybe he was moved by those sacrifices. I surely was.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cares carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Phone Calls: Part III
Phone Calls: Part III
You are asleep. Just as your alarm goes off and you start to wake up you realize your phone is ringing. You answer the phone before your alarm goes off. It’s that same voice again. Morning, after morning; it’s always the same voice. There’s a pause, just a very brief one; it is almost imperceptible. In that brief second you wonder if today the voice will criticize you relentlessly, complain at you in a dull, tired sort of way, talk to you angrily, or maybe even have some good things to say. Don’t you wish you knew before you went to bed what you would hear in the morning? Heck, you might even sleep better if you knew what you were going to hear in the morning phone call. What if when you went to bed the last thought you had was that tomorrow’s phone call was going to be great?
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cares carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
You are asleep. Just as your alarm goes off and you start to wake up you realize your phone is ringing. You answer the phone before your alarm goes off. It’s that same voice again. Morning, after morning; it’s always the same voice. There’s a pause, just a very brief one; it is almost imperceptible. In that brief second you wonder if today the voice will criticize you relentlessly, complain at you in a dull, tired sort of way, talk to you angrily, or maybe even have some good things to say. Don’t you wish you knew before you went to bed what you would hear in the morning? Heck, you might even sleep better if you knew what you were going to hear in the morning phone call. What if when you went to bed the last thought you had was that tomorrow’s phone call was going to be great?
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cares carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
Friday, April 2, 2010
Swimsuits and Swim Trunks
Katy and I are going to go to Hawaii. She went once before we were married; I have never been. It’s a big adventure for us.
When the kids were little I would chase them around the back yard with a squirt gun. Then they would chase me. It’s a great summer memory from 20-25 years ago. I took them swimming at the “Y” back then too. To do these things I wore swim trunks. I still have those trunks. They’re green. The kids are much too old to chase around now and plus I couldn’t catch them anymore so I haven’t worn the trunks in a long time.
Katy and I have been talking about what we are going to do in Hawaii. We talked about doing some snorkeling. We both liked the idea but realized we don’t have swimwear. Well one of us doesn’t; I still have my old green swim trunks. I took them out of the bottom of my shirt drawer, kind of shook them out, put my thumbs inside each edge and pulled them apart a little. The elastic crackled and didn’t go back; they just sort of stayed pulled apart. (I feel that way some mornings.) Okay, the swim trunks are 30 years old, big deal. That meant that Katy and I are both in the market for new swimming stuff.
Katy started looking at Lands End. I didn't want to think about it particularly or have to make any complicated choices like color or style. I would be just fine having a pair of swim trunks like the ones I had except with new elastic in the waistband. That would be more than enough “shopping” for me. We had a print catalog of swimwear that had just come in the mail. She was leafing through page after page of “girl stuff”. I think there were two pages of “boy stuff”. That’s fine with me because I don’t want to think about it anyway.
After she saw a few she liked, or maybe that she was at least open to, in the catalog she went online to look. I heard her laughing so I came over to the computer to see what was funny. There were pull down menus with hundreds of choices, yes hundreds, for all of these things: size range, specific size, color, bra type, body shape, control, and best of all, “anxiety zones”.
Excuse me but what the heck does that mean? She pulled down the “anxiety zone” menu several times and laughed at the six choices every time. If you pick something off the anxiety zone list do you get less anxiety or more anxiety with the swimsuits in that section? Are you choosing a swimsuit to reinforce your anxieties? Do they mail the anxiety with the swimsuit and do you apply it before wearing it? How many times is the anxiety good for? Does the anxiety wear out as the swim suit gets older? I’m wearing out as I get older so maybe anxiety does too.
I got on the computer and clicked over to swim trunks. I found one that looked the same as my retired green ones and that was that. But then I started to feel left out. How come I only get to choose color and inseam? Some have pockets so that’s a choice too but how come I can’t choose from some anxiety zones too?
Oh the hell with it. We are going to Hawaii and we’re both excited! We are both going to put on swim wear for the first time in decades and we don’t give a damn about anxiety zones. We are probably going to look funny and we just don’t care. So there. We both ordered swim wear and decided not to order any anxiety with it.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your car carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
When the kids were little I would chase them around the back yard with a squirt gun. Then they would chase me. It’s a great summer memory from 20-25 years ago. I took them swimming at the “Y” back then too. To do these things I wore swim trunks. I still have those trunks. They’re green. The kids are much too old to chase around now and plus I couldn’t catch them anymore so I haven’t worn the trunks in a long time.
Katy and I have been talking about what we are going to do in Hawaii. We talked about doing some snorkeling. We both liked the idea but realized we don’t have swimwear. Well one of us doesn’t; I still have my old green swim trunks. I took them out of the bottom of my shirt drawer, kind of shook them out, put my thumbs inside each edge and pulled them apart a little. The elastic crackled and didn’t go back; they just sort of stayed pulled apart. (I feel that way some mornings.) Okay, the swim trunks are 30 years old, big deal. That meant that Katy and I are both in the market for new swimming stuff.
Katy started looking at Lands End. I didn't want to think about it particularly or have to make any complicated choices like color or style. I would be just fine having a pair of swim trunks like the ones I had except with new elastic in the waistband. That would be more than enough “shopping” for me. We had a print catalog of swimwear that had just come in the mail. She was leafing through page after page of “girl stuff”. I think there were two pages of “boy stuff”. That’s fine with me because I don’t want to think about it anyway.
After she saw a few she liked, or maybe that she was at least open to, in the catalog she went online to look. I heard her laughing so I came over to the computer to see what was funny. There were pull down menus with hundreds of choices, yes hundreds, for all of these things: size range, specific size, color, bra type, body shape, control, and best of all, “anxiety zones”.
Excuse me but what the heck does that mean? She pulled down the “anxiety zone” menu several times and laughed at the six choices every time. If you pick something off the anxiety zone list do you get less anxiety or more anxiety with the swimsuits in that section? Are you choosing a swimsuit to reinforce your anxieties? Do they mail the anxiety with the swimsuit and do you apply it before wearing it? How many times is the anxiety good for? Does the anxiety wear out as the swim suit gets older? I’m wearing out as I get older so maybe anxiety does too.
I got on the computer and clicked over to swim trunks. I found one that looked the same as my retired green ones and that was that. But then I started to feel left out. How come I only get to choose color and inseam? Some have pockets so that’s a choice too but how come I can’t choose from some anxiety zones too?
Oh the hell with it. We are going to Hawaii and we’re both excited! We are both going to put on swim wear for the first time in decades and we don’t give a damn about anxiety zones. We are probably going to look funny and we just don’t care. So there. We both ordered swim wear and decided not to order any anxiety with it.
It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your car carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourself whole physically and emotionally.
P
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