The above image is a painting done by an artist friend. In his work I am struck by the use of color, light, and reflection. An ordinary colored glass still life becomes a piece of magic by his brush strokes creating reflection and shadow. Recently he has taken to creating small works, dividing them into equal size panels, and then recreating the small work one panel at a time blindly by covering each panel as he completes it, resulting of a much larger work consisting of 16 panel divisions of the smaller work. It is remarkable, I marvel at his ability to do this. I also envy this ability and the gratification he receives with the much deserved praise he gets. Even though this may seem a long painful at times process to him, there is gratification in not one but two finished projects. Looking and considering his work turns my mind to my life in education. I have always tried to unlock what was in my students by reflecting their lights and not spotlighting mine. It has been a long slow process and one at times not filled with much gratification. Recently losing my place and platform threw me more in a downward spiral than I was already in. It is through these pages that I hope to reclaim and reclimb. This of all the pages may seem the most self-indulgent with original writings and pieces of others that I admire, but so be it. Pass this page by. There are others I will be more objective but always try to be honest and do no harm. People behind masks rarely can afford to. As my artist friend who also teaches might agree with me......whether it is the solitary work of the artist with his brush and paints, or the words and actions of the teacher....the end and most important result is to connect.
My Dad: I12:50 October 6-08
My dad died 28 years ago this Wednesday.
He was a quiet, gentle man who hit me only once…
At 12, I called him a son of a bitch
When my cat got caught in the motor of his car and died.
I got caught in his belt…….
My dad was a simple man.
He liked to fish.
Tuesdays, his day off, in the summer,
We would sometimes fish all day.
I hate to fish now………
My dad loved to read. Zane Grey………
Other westerns...He read a lot
Until glaucoma robbed him.
I read a lot, still sometimes
I worry I’ll be robbed too, one day.
My dad loved the movies. The one
Theater in town changed movies weekly. Most
Sundays we went, no matter the movie.
Sometimes my mom would go. It didn’t matter
My dad and I would go.
My dad when a young man
Drank...a lot….Every weekend
Drunk ….and then back to work on Monday.
When my sister was born in ‘38, he never
Drank again. I never saw him drink, nor he me.
My dad took naps on his day off.
He slept upstairs, my mom downstairs…
In summer I would pass his door
And see him sleeping naked.
I snore like him and like to be naked, too…..
My dad was proud of me, I think…
I wasn’t a jock, I couldn’t play sports--
An overprotective mother saw to that--
But I think there were other things
My dad was proud of me for.
My dad cussed…..shit damn hell were
Favorites of his. My dad teased and
Was teased. People loved my dad.
He was a fixture at the A&P 20 years…
I worked at the A&P 5 years.
My dad and I went to church together
After he retired and I came
Home from college. Sunday School
And then sometimes church, too. For a while
I taught his Sunday School class..my mom never came.
My dad was hit by a car crossing the road
In front of the house—Crossing the road
To the store—like any other day
Except that day, he didn’t
Make it to the safety of the grass…
My dad was put in the hospital
With a broken hip….something easy
To fix..3 or more days he lie there, not eating
Not really doing anything but lying there--
Surgery was postponed.
My dad coded one morning while
I was visiting on my way to school.
I was pushed out in the hall alone
I remember sinking to the floor, then
Someone holding me as they wheeled my dad pass to ICU.
My dad was in ICU 2 days…
My mom got a call one night She called me
I was in bed with my girlfriend making
Love—By the time I got to
The hospital—my dad was gone…
At times growing up—I hated my dad…
At times growing up—I disrespected my dad…
At times growing up—I wondered if my dad loved me…
At times growing up—I just wanted him to tell me…
At times growing up—I never even knew the man he was
My son...at 24… does he know the man
That is his dad? Does he remember
Things we did together. Does he
Remember the time I spanked him and the
Reason I stopped...
does he remember when we were best friends
My son and my dad. They never
Knew each other. How I wished
They had. My son and my dad
Such huge parts of me...I wish
They really knew me.
My dad died 28 years ago this Wednesday.
He was a quiet, gentle man who hit me only once…
At 12, I called him a son of a bitch
When my cat got caught in the motor of his car and died.
I got caught in his belt…….
My dad was a simple man.
He liked to fish.
Tuesdays, his day off, in the summer,
We would sometimes fish all day.
I hate to fish now………
My dad loved to read. Zane Grey………
Other westerns...He read a lot
Until glaucoma robbed him.
I read a lot, still sometimes
I worry I’ll be robbed too, one day.
My dad loved the movies. The one
Theater in town changed movies weekly. Most
Sundays we went, no matter the movie.
Sometimes my mom would go. It didn’t matter
My dad and I would go.
My dad when a young man
Drank...a lot….Every weekend
Drunk ….and then back to work on Monday.
When my sister was born in ‘38, he never
Drank again. I never saw him drink, nor he me.
My dad took naps on his day off.
He slept upstairs, my mom downstairs…
In summer I would pass his door
And see him sleeping naked.
I snore like him and like to be naked, too…..
My dad was proud of me, I think…
I wasn’t a jock, I couldn’t play sports--
An overprotective mother saw to that--
But I think there were other things
My dad was proud of me for.
My dad cussed…..shit damn hell were
Favorites of his. My dad teased and
Was teased. People loved my dad.
He was a fixture at the A&P 20 years…
I worked at the A&P 5 years.
My dad and I went to church together
After he retired and I came
Home from college. Sunday School
And then sometimes church, too. For a while
I taught his Sunday School class..my mom never came.
My dad was hit by a car crossing the road
In front of the house—Crossing the road
To the store—like any other day
Except that day, he didn’t
Make it to the safety of the grass…
My dad was put in the hospital
With a broken hip….something easy
To fix..3 or more days he lie there, not eating
Not really doing anything but lying there--
Surgery was postponed.
My dad coded one morning while
I was visiting on my way to school.
I was pushed out in the hall alone
I remember sinking to the floor, then
Someone holding me as they wheeled my dad pass to ICU.
My dad was in ICU 2 days…
My mom got a call one night She called me
I was in bed with my girlfriend making
Love—By the time I got to
The hospital—my dad was gone…
At times growing up—I hated my dad…
At times growing up—I disrespected my dad…
At times growing up—I wondered if my dad loved me…
At times growing up—I just wanted him to tell me…
At times growing up—I never even knew the man he was
My son...at 24… does he know the man
That is his dad? Does he remember
Things we did together. Does he
Remember the time I spanked him and the
Reason I stopped...
does he remember when we were best friends
My son and my dad. They never
Knew each other. How I wished
They had. My son and my dad
Such huge parts of me...I wish
They really knew me.