God has shown me very directly several times in my life that I am not the center of the universe. He has shown me how to be humble. I was kind of miserable in pain and discomfort in a bath room of the recovery room at Mo Bap when I heard my oldest cousin Rick had died. I immediately thought of Janice and her boys, Joe and Sam, and Emily her daughter and what their morning must be like. You never really know what to do when you hear news that will change your life. Maybe the answer to every question IS compassion. When I heard the news about Rick, I regret that I did not immediately hug my sister, Mary. My mind for a moment left Janice and her family, and thought of my poor mother sitting at home. I know she was anxious about my surgery and she was spending the morning, praying and waiting for news. As she is focused on prayers for me, all of a sudden she gets run over by this news of her oldest nephew. Later that day my dad checked his phone and notice he had received a text from Rick at 7:30 a.m. Rick texted, "Our prayers are sent back to you and John today. All my good wishes are with you. Let me know if I can do anything other than pray. Love you guys." So the last interaction between my cousin Rick and my dad (and me) was a selfless act of love for me. Thanks God, I got the message. And also thanks to Rick for your act of love.
I don't know when I first met Emily, I think she may have been 11 or so. She was pleasant and laughed like any kid would. A new kid in the family, when we did not have too many, this is cool I thought. Janice, I do not have to remember exactly when I met you. This is because in the last 20 years, your greetings to me are always the same. Janice would always greet me with a smile and ask me how I was doing. Then she would ask me a question about Uganda or about my job search or about school. It was obvious she was keeping up on my life and genuinely cared about me and wanted me to do well in whatever I was doing. It had to be tough for Janice to come into our family, because it was pretty much settled at the time, and not everyone at that time was as welcoming as I would have liked them to be. Or a better choice of words, I wish all my blood relatives had welcomed Janice into our family the way she welcomed all of us. I was just a cousin and was not as close. But now, I do know the path I will take from here on out. I want to always welcome Janice and her family the way she welcomes me. I want to Janice Janice.
I think this goal will be easy to do, as I will have Emily on my side. Actually Emily is on every one's side. She stepped into the hole that Rick's passing created and immediately started talking to people, posting on Facebook (this seems silly, but I have learned that communicating your feelings through FB sometimes can proclaim your love to a wider audience--so it has to be good, right?) and just setting up some of the small details. For example, it was Emily who said Jeannie Magee needs to be the singer for the funeral. It was Emily who saw my breakfast post a couple of days ago and instantly made plans for the six of us to be together. Emily, I cannot tell you how impressed I have been in the last month with your wisdom, your kindness, and your ability to pull all of us together during this tough time. And I know by some of your words, this loss is as big for you as it is for any one. It will not get easier, but you will learn to live with your grief a little better, you will get used to the sorrow that is in your heart. My Faith tells me this bit of comfort -- Rick is watching all of this. I cannot even begin to fathom how much his love for you, and his pride in just who you are grows as he gets to watch you.....simply be you. You have taken some of the best qualities of your mother and added them on to your soul and your words that give others strength will eventually give you strength also. I also know you will be a great big sister to Joe and Sam when they need it the most. I have the best older sister in the world, and I know in my most trying times she is always there with me.
It is the little things that I notice as a teacher, that tells me something about parents. After a pretty long wait for breakfast, when it was time to order, all three little ones sat up straight, looked the server in the eye, and clearly told her what they wanted to eat. (Although, the oldest was correct later when he told us that she did not get his order correct). This seems like a small thing, but a busy server working hard to feed hundreds of people in the restaurant does not have time for whiny or off focus children. The order of the kids were given just as quickly as the 3 adults at the table. This politeness and I would say maturity is learned behavior. Emily taught them this. I wonder who Emily learned it from.
My friend, Steve Friskel, taught me this year that he does not have a "half-brother" or a "step-brother", in his family he just has a brother. I do not share a bloodline with any of the five at this breakfast, but from now on they are just my cousins. Much simpler and much easier. Family is often just meeting your family where they are and loving them the best you can at that moment. I hope it is obvious that I feel I have received more from my cousins than I have given. (Sidenote: I always buy the breakfasts, but in this case and 65 other times, I have definitely been on the plus side of these breakfasts. Yesterday morning, I received so much more from my cousins than the cost of a couple of breakfasts). By the way, the oldest, the nine year old ate his dinosaur pancake without question even though he had CLEARLY ordered a regular pancake. I am proud of my little cousin. With Janice and Emily there was never any conversation lulls or awkward pauses, we talked about many things and it was great. I know this will continue. Good conversations. A few inside stories. Stories of Rick. Just like family. This IS what family looks like.
I sometimes write very serious descriptions of people I meet for breakfast. I want you to see these incredible people through my eyes. Just like in this story, I hope I have been successful. Now I am going to share a deeply personal story about myself. My entire life I have wanted to be married, and I definitely wanted to have my own kids. (Especially a little girl who I could shove elbows with as we waited for pancakes). My cousin Rick pulled off my miracle and he was always an inspiration for me. Very late in his life, when most would say the game was done, He met Janice and Emily and then came Joe and Sam. He achieved the happiness that I always longed for. In the end, I am not jealous but just so damn happy that Rick got his family and his loving, incredible wife. For those of you who remember the movie, I see Rick carrying Janice off the floor of the factory, and I shout as loud as I can, "Way to go, Paula, way to go."
Arnold, Missouri is not my home. I have never been to this restaurant tucked into the mall. I think I made an illegal U-turn to get there. So here is my advice to all, go away from your home, meet new people, laugh and share a meal. I had an incredible breakfast with my cousins. I look forward to more.
Thanks, Rick.
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Saturday, July 28, 2018
Breakfast 65 -- Bill Elliott
I recalled fondly in a previous post, how they were certain students, definitely a lot of Nerinx girls, but also John Duvall and Greg Anderson, and many others that would just do whatever I asked with a smile on their face. I have many life long friends that would jump into whatever I am trying to accomplish (hint: No Place Like Home 5k, October 6th) and just help me. But in the last 10 years I have a new group-- dads who just signed up for a service trip with their daughter. I can understand a little bit more the first two groups, but I am talking people I have just recently met doing incredible things, just because I asked them. They are all aware of the bigger picture and help many in our community. Here is what I know, all I have to do is ask and there are now about a dozen people who would jump to help us. One of the very first of the Super Dads was Bill Elliott.
Bill Elliott and Scott Barnes still have the distinction of leading one of the best projects we have ever accomplished in Biloxi. These two men and about a dozen of the best young workers ever started with a 20' x 30' plywood base and had all the wall up and the roof trusses within a week. It really was an amazing project. Jessi Pachak started it out by literally digging under the house and removing all the debris. The all-star team was there Amelia, Sam and Megan, Jessi, Kelly, Amanda, Melanie, and so many more. The best picture I have of this group is all of them hoisting the south wall in the air, so I cannot see any faces. Bill was the de facto project manager of this group with Scott Barnes as his trusty sidekick. They were incredible in their knowledge, their work ethic, and seriously instructing the young volunteers to get the job done. They were a very cohesive group. This is what community looks like. Bill did get shot in the upper thigh, by a nail gun, but Amelia maintains it was an "accident"/
Since that time, Bill and his crew at Kenrick Design have always been a willing participant to anything I asked him to do. He is very deliberate talker and thinker and I listen to his words carefully, because I always learn something. I think Bill always puts a thoughtful effort into what he is going to say, so I always listen. The next year was one of the times, we went to Biloxi with over 100 volunteers. I had traveled down there on Spring Break to line up more work, Back Bay only had room for so many helpers. We worked with a organization that was trying to help people, but had neither the expertise or the history of Back Bay Mission. They decided they could do the best for people by doing a very unique almost impossible rehab. It could not be a new construction, because there was no government money for new stuff only rehab. So Bill and his crew, had to replace the floor and the floor joists while the building was still standing. If you want to try this at home, try putting on a pair of dress shoes while standing and not being able to bend down. Go ahead and try it, well Bill Elliott with Haley Hunter and Lizzie Puzniak and Camille Todd and many others did it. But they did it with a house.
I am trying to remember how many times Bill went to Biloxi with us, because it kind of seems like in a small way he is always there. He has gladly welcomed several groups of brand new high school girls into his business and spent an afternoon showing us how to use the tools and just as importantly why we build the way we do. On more than one occasion, he also lined up a talk by the professional organization of women in construction. I have not seen Bill for a little while now, and so when I was thinking of breakfasts, he was definitely on the list. There were some old people at Breadco involved in a discussion that was a little bit wrong, so I was eavesdropping on them when Bill walked in. Thirty seconds later, we were talking like two old friends and we shared stories about Biloxi and what is new.
It turns out a lot is new for Bill and his wife as they have taken the church at Bompart and Tuxedo that was built in 1885 and turned it into a Bed and Breakfast. So if you have out of town guests, you should definitely look to the Elliotts for hospitality. I am trying to think right now of something I have done for Bill Elliott, I am kind of drawing a blank. When I think of what he has done for me, I could easily list a dozen impossible (upside house) favors that he did for me with a smile on his face.
I know Bill's daughter, Amanda, who has started her own family is very proud of her dad, and would say great things about him. I think one of the biggest tributes I could give to Bill is this. We often tell the new students about the jobs we have completed, sometimes we drive them by the house on Wisteria. The students will ask Megan Manuel, "How did you build that house?" Megan will just exhale happily and say, "Well, we had Mister Elliott." I think Haley Hunter would use similar words, Amelia (Shooter) besides trying to kill him thinks the world of him.
Tomorrow night I will see my brother-in-law Gary Mindel. Gary was at Breadco conducting a job interview and I introduced him to Bill. Gary will ask me, "How do you know Bill Elliott" and I get to say the most wonderful four words in the world.
He is my friend.
Bill Elliott and Scott Barnes still have the distinction of leading one of the best projects we have ever accomplished in Biloxi. These two men and about a dozen of the best young workers ever started with a 20' x 30' plywood base and had all the wall up and the roof trusses within a week. It really was an amazing project. Jessi Pachak started it out by literally digging under the house and removing all the debris. The all-star team was there Amelia, Sam and Megan, Jessi, Kelly, Amanda, Melanie, and so many more. The best picture I have of this group is all of them hoisting the south wall in the air, so I cannot see any faces. Bill was the de facto project manager of this group with Scott Barnes as his trusty sidekick. They were incredible in their knowledge, their work ethic, and seriously instructing the young volunteers to get the job done. They were a very cohesive group. This is what community looks like. Bill did get shot in the upper thigh, by a nail gun, but Amelia maintains it was an "accident"/
Since that time, Bill and his crew at Kenrick Design have always been a willing participant to anything I asked him to do. He is very deliberate talker and thinker and I listen to his words carefully, because I always learn something. I think Bill always puts a thoughtful effort into what he is going to say, so I always listen. The next year was one of the times, we went to Biloxi with over 100 volunteers. I had traveled down there on Spring Break to line up more work, Back Bay only had room for so many helpers. We worked with a organization that was trying to help people, but had neither the expertise or the history of Back Bay Mission. They decided they could do the best for people by doing a very unique almost impossible rehab. It could not be a new construction, because there was no government money for new stuff only rehab. So Bill and his crew, had to replace the floor and the floor joists while the building was still standing. If you want to try this at home, try putting on a pair of dress shoes while standing and not being able to bend down. Go ahead and try it, well Bill Elliott with Haley Hunter and Lizzie Puzniak and Camille Todd and many others did it. But they did it with a house.
I am trying to remember how many times Bill went to Biloxi with us, because it kind of seems like in a small way he is always there. He has gladly welcomed several groups of brand new high school girls into his business and spent an afternoon showing us how to use the tools and just as importantly why we build the way we do. On more than one occasion, he also lined up a talk by the professional organization of women in construction. I have not seen Bill for a little while now, and so when I was thinking of breakfasts, he was definitely on the list. There were some old people at Breadco involved in a discussion that was a little bit wrong, so I was eavesdropping on them when Bill walked in. Thirty seconds later, we were talking like two old friends and we shared stories about Biloxi and what is new.
It turns out a lot is new for Bill and his wife as they have taken the church at Bompart and Tuxedo that was built in 1885 and turned it into a Bed and Breakfast. So if you have out of town guests, you should definitely look to the Elliotts for hospitality. I am trying to think right now of something I have done for Bill Elliott, I am kind of drawing a blank. When I think of what he has done for me, I could easily list a dozen impossible (upside house) favors that he did for me with a smile on his face.
I know Bill's daughter, Amanda, who has started her own family is very proud of her dad, and would say great things about him. I think one of the biggest tributes I could give to Bill is this. We often tell the new students about the jobs we have completed, sometimes we drive them by the house on Wisteria. The students will ask Megan Manuel, "How did you build that house?" Megan will just exhale happily and say, "Well, we had Mister Elliott." I think Haley Hunter would use similar words, Amelia (Shooter) besides trying to kill him thinks the world of him.
Tomorrow night I will see my brother-in-law Gary Mindel. Gary was at Breadco conducting a job interview and I introduced him to Bill. Gary will ask me, "How do you know Bill Elliott" and I get to say the most wonderful four words in the world.
He is my friend.
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Breakfast 64 -- Terri Gaffney
The first thing you have to know about these breakfasts -- they truly are in a somewhat random order. I did not take my own mother to breakfast until number 55. And now Terri is clocking in at number 64. If I was ranking women in my life, they would both be top 10. They share a common characteristic, both of them are very excited about this breakfast project and I knew I could count on both of them to go to breakfast at the very last minute. They would both accommodate their own schedules to be there for me. This is not once or twice, this is every day of their lives. They are always putting others first. Terri, I cannot think of a better person to compare you with then my mother. I now believe that there is something of real value in these breakfasts. My two big takeaways are: (1) being intentional about your actions and (2) working hard at giving time to your friendships. But even in these breakfasts or this project was worthless, Terri would still be on my side supporting me. I could tell Terri Gaffney that I was carving the entire senate out of zucchinis and she would be excited for me. "Have you done Blount yet? That is a great McCaskill, John," she would tell me. "I don't know it does kind of look like Jeff Flake, the senator of Arizona." I could be doing something that means nothing to her or she knows nothing about, but she would be supportive of me and would brag after a softball game that John Magee has carved 65 senators out of zucchini this summer. You should see us together at the Wheel of Fortune slot machines in a casino.
Somewhere on one of the computers, I have in the past tried to depict all the different ways that the Gaffney family has inspired me over the years. Terri will play softball tonight on Field 3, a place she has been a fixture at for more than two decades. Here is what will make Terri a little unique tonight, she will truly want all 20 players on the field to have good games. If I kid her about it tonight, she would be somewhat surprised that other people do not want their teammates and opponents all to do well. Terri would like Team Bud to win, of course, but she would like every play for the other team to be an extra base hit where they are thrown out at third by great fielding plays by her own beloved, Team Bud.
I know a lot of good, helpful, and handy people in my life, and Tim and Terri fit that bill, and speaking about fitting the bill.. . . . If they knew my kitchen faucet was not working (nobody move -- it is working fine), they would be over tonight to fix it. Somewhere along the way they would realize that they needed another part. Either Tim or Terri would go out, buy the missing faucet part and come back and fix my faucet. Then when it was done, would not even let me pay for the part. Ask around I bet many could tell these same stories.
I need to get in shape, and probably should have gotten over to Terri's pool for some lap swimming. I would have showed up in the middle of the day and there would have been some people in the middle of the day that I did not recognize. Somehow, Terri has invited the world to her house and her pool and thinks nothing of it. I have known Terri and Tim for over 20 years now, and I would not recognize tomorrow the people at the pool. There seem to be an infinite amount of friends that Terri and Tim have that I barely know. And guess what, every year more people get added to that Gaffney friends list. I have done Blackthorn Softball much longer than the Gaffneys and I recognize people when I see them in different places, but for the most part I only see these people in the summer. Terri and Tim are like best friends with people on 13 or 14 different teams, and that might be an understatement.
With all of the Biloxi trips, I have noticed that Terri is not an early riser and not a morning person. It kinda does not fit with the rest of her. I finally figured it out as I drove home from Tower Grove Park tonight. Terri puts about a day and a half of working, being there for friends, being there for family, and being there for strangers into every single day. I think she just needs all of her sleep because she is doing so much each and every day. Next time you see Terri ask her what she is doing this week. It will include: working as a travel agent, giving swim lessons to youngsters, being Grandma at least a couple of times a week, being the hostess/greeter/head cheerleader for Adam's smokehouse, umpiring softball every Tuesday, playing and organizing softball every Thursday, being a good friend, being a good mom. taking care of Tim (I think Tim is very high maintenance--big sarcasm here) and always being ready to do anything for me at a moment's notice. Grammar police, sorry for the run on sentence--but Terri Gaffney's life is a run on sentence. So yeah she might get a little tired.
Tonight in the middle of this description, I went over to do an odd job for mom and dad. My mom was genuinely happy after reading the first paragraph that I compared her to Terri. She sees Terri about twice a year, and every time Terri sees my mom they greet like they have been friends their entire lives. My mom was quite flattered that I compared her to Terri.
Sam and Megan and Shelby and Hayley and Emily and Maggie and Mary Grace and now a whole lot more are wonderful examples that a woman can do anything she wants to do. Each of these young women charge into their lives with confidence. They also make sure that they are always thinking of other people. Each of them has spent hours watching Terri and a bit of who they are, as women who will serve and conquer our world, comes from the example that Terri has shown them.
This is what community looks like.
Somewhere on one of the computers, I have in the past tried to depict all the different ways that the Gaffney family has inspired me over the years. Terri will play softball tonight on Field 3, a place she has been a fixture at for more than two decades. Here is what will make Terri a little unique tonight, she will truly want all 20 players on the field to have good games. If I kid her about it tonight, she would be somewhat surprised that other people do not want their teammates and opponents all to do well. Terri would like Team Bud to win, of course, but she would like every play for the other team to be an extra base hit where they are thrown out at third by great fielding plays by her own beloved, Team Bud.
I know a lot of good, helpful, and handy people in my life, and Tim and Terri fit that bill, and speaking about fitting the bill.. . . . If they knew my kitchen faucet was not working (nobody move -- it is working fine), they would be over tonight to fix it. Somewhere along the way they would realize that they needed another part. Either Tim or Terri would go out, buy the missing faucet part and come back and fix my faucet. Then when it was done, would not even let me pay for the part. Ask around I bet many could tell these same stories.
I need to get in shape, and probably should have gotten over to Terri's pool for some lap swimming. I would have showed up in the middle of the day and there would have been some people in the middle of the day that I did not recognize. Somehow, Terri has invited the world to her house and her pool and thinks nothing of it. I have known Terri and Tim for over 20 years now, and I would not recognize tomorrow the people at the pool. There seem to be an infinite amount of friends that Terri and Tim have that I barely know. And guess what, every year more people get added to that Gaffney friends list. I have done Blackthorn Softball much longer than the Gaffneys and I recognize people when I see them in different places, but for the most part I only see these people in the summer. Terri and Tim are like best friends with people on 13 or 14 different teams, and that might be an understatement.
With all of the Biloxi trips, I have noticed that Terri is not an early riser and not a morning person. It kinda does not fit with the rest of her. I finally figured it out as I drove home from Tower Grove Park tonight. Terri puts about a day and a half of working, being there for friends, being there for family, and being there for strangers into every single day. I think she just needs all of her sleep because she is doing so much each and every day. Next time you see Terri ask her what she is doing this week. It will include: working as a travel agent, giving swim lessons to youngsters, being Grandma at least a couple of times a week, being the hostess/greeter/head cheerleader for Adam's smokehouse, umpiring softball every Tuesday, playing and organizing softball every Thursday, being a good friend, being a good mom. taking care of Tim (I think Tim is very high maintenance--big sarcasm here) and always being ready to do anything for me at a moment's notice. Grammar police, sorry for the run on sentence--but Terri Gaffney's life is a run on sentence. So yeah she might get a little tired.
Tonight in the middle of this description, I went over to do an odd job for mom and dad. My mom was genuinely happy after reading the first paragraph that I compared her to Terri. She sees Terri about twice a year, and every time Terri sees my mom they greet like they have been friends their entire lives. My mom was quite flattered that I compared her to Terri.
Sam and Megan and Shelby and Hayley and Emily and Maggie and Mary Grace and now a whole lot more are wonderful examples that a woman can do anything she wants to do. Each of these young women charge into their lives with confidence. They also make sure that they are always thinking of other people. Each of them has spent hours watching Terri and a bit of who they are, as women who will serve and conquer our world, comes from the example that Terri has shown them.
This is what community looks like.
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Breakfast 63 -- Doug Callahan
Doug is loyal, friendly, kind, reverent, trustworthy, helpful, friendly, cheerful, courteous and ...... Okay so I missed 4 from 1974, not bad. The ones I missed were Obedient, Thrifty, Brave and Clean. I think that is a psychological profile as I seem to have trouble with those 4 characteristics. Oh and I wrote friendly twice. Those are the 12 parts of the Scout Law. Doug is an Eagle Scout and has spent most of his adult life being a professional Boy Scout. Here is the crazy thing, he really does live these qualities most days. He loves a cigar and beer and Irish Whiskey, but those just give him character as he is truly one of the best guys I know. I think I do a good job of praising and encouraging my students, but Doug does this with adults all the time. He knows a wide variety of people and every time I am with him I meet someone new. He is great at making sure everyone knows each other and always introduces me to others with a little bit of my resume. He will praise me as a teacher or as a service trip worker or as a missionary to Uganda. I always get introduced with an accomplishment. And I always meet people with one of their accomplishments, Bob runs a great furniture business, Steve has the best landscaping service, this young man was on the Dean's List. I always thought we can make this country great by just everybody working very hard to be the best neighbor they can be. Doug is America's neighbor or at least the neighbor of all of COMO.
I really should take a course in writing, because I always bury the lead. The lead is that Doug is the most loyal person I know. He always has my back. No matter what. If I told him an old lady tripped me, he might just say let's go get that old buzzard. Sometimes when times are tough, you don't need any more people telling you what you should have done or you should do this. Sometimes, it just feels really good knowing that someone is behind you supporting you all the way. Doug and I have some great conversations and we talk about life and directions and path, but when I need him and he knows when I need him -- he just supports me 100%. As I sat down to write this, I just had a movie scene in my mind. I ride over to Doug's place on a horse, Doug hears me approach and walkds out and I just give him the nod. He looks at me from under his cowboy hat and says, "I'm ready." He walks back into his place and starts grabbing his rifle and his guns. Sue comes running out and says, "Don't go, Doug, don't go!!" As he hops onto his horse, she is still pulling at him. He touches her gently and says, "I'll be back." And we ride off together to face down the bad guys. It really would not matter how many of the outlaws there are, Doug would be with me. And he would certainly find his way back to his wife and family. Doug is Loyal and he looks pretty good in a cowboy hat.
I see a lot of my friends parent their kids. I usually am smart enough to let them love their family, raise their family, and guide their family without my help. I know as a teacher, one never knows the full story and sometimes when we think strangers in a crowd are being awful parents we do not know what happened that day. Also, I know that I have never really been a parent and probably will not have that joy in my life. So it is a great pleasure to see Doug be a dad. He seems to have just the right guidance on the most complex and chaotic of situations. In the midst of the chaos, Doug seems to know exactly what is going on and often things about what an 11 year old or a 9 year old is thinking. Using another western picture, he has hold of the reins, but holds them in a way that his children always have the freedom to choose their own path. Doug's two children are both amazing in their own ways, but they are two distinct children. Doug has had to be a different Dad for each, but he is the best Dad he can be for Sean, and he is the best Dad he can be for Megan. Both of them are old enough now, to realize all that he has done for them. They are not old enough yet that they do not still need his guidance (Sean, Megan my mother and father still sometimes steer me in a different direction). And his children and his wife and myself have all felt that loyalty that he gives to so many. So it is easier for him to be a Father, because they know how much he cares for them and makes big sacrifices in his time to do things for them and with them.
Doug has promised me that when I die, he will steal my body, put it in a rowboat on Wilmore Park lake and light it on fire, giving me a Viking funeral. Several people know this story and they laugh and they kind of think it is a joke. I would not be surprised if it actually happens, so for my funeral do not send flowers, hold onto your money, Doug may need some bail money. By the way, don't ever send flowers to my funeral, unless they are artificial and you made them out of colored duct tape.
I never thought for a moment that Doug and I would not have breakfast together even though we live 2 hours away, maybe even more with awful I-70 traffic today. So that friend that lives too far away. Grow up. Hop in your car and go visit. Over the past couple years I have learned that at times I just hop in my car and drive to Columbia. I sometimes have other agendas, but usually there is always a moment, actually probably at least a half hour where Doug and I connect and renew our friendship. I know his couch is always open for me. I also know that I probably won't spend any money on food or beer, Doug is always the consummate host. The food is always amazing, usually eaten in a parking lot under the shadow of the Irish flag, but as good as that food tastes, it is so small compared to what Doug gives me as his friend--his compadre.
The Deacon -- although not an official deacon of the Catholic church, Doug has that nickname from his Columbia pals. It is easy to find fault with the Church, it is easy to make noise that a 2000 year old organization is slow and does not keep up with the times. It is a little harder to be there every Sunday and speak your voice from within. Doug does this. He has proudly raised his kids Catholic and is proud of both his Jesuit tradition and the new traditions he started with his support of Bishop Tolton high school. I think it is a little easier to hold true to a path when you are holding a compass, but it also takes a lot of hard work. It is hard to hold on to that compass, but it gets easier the more regular you make your habits. Doug hops in a car to come to St. Louis when he is needed by his mother or his extended family. He still comes once a year to sell hot dogs at the school picnic so he can keep alive a tradition started by his father. That could have easily died when his father passed, but it was important to his mother and his family, so he hops in a car after a full day of work and sells hot dogs once a year.
So for the people who are reading this or I have taken to breakfast that I see far too infrequently, I am going to strive to do better. I am going to channel my inner Doug. But guess what you can do this too, take someone to breakfast or hop in a car and go visit that old friend. Or meet halfway in Warrenton, the Waffle House is okay.
I am blessed by the Grace Doug gives me every time I see him. I hope you have a friend like Doug also. And if you don't I will probably drive to Columbia a couple of times during football season. I guarantee it will only take a game and a half, but Doug would be your friend too.
I really should take a course in writing, because I always bury the lead. The lead is that Doug is the most loyal person I know. He always has my back. No matter what. If I told him an old lady tripped me, he might just say let's go get that old buzzard. Sometimes when times are tough, you don't need any more people telling you what you should have done or you should do this. Sometimes, it just feels really good knowing that someone is behind you supporting you all the way. Doug and I have some great conversations and we talk about life and directions and path, but when I need him and he knows when I need him -- he just supports me 100%. As I sat down to write this, I just had a movie scene in my mind. I ride over to Doug's place on a horse, Doug hears me approach and walkds out and I just give him the nod. He looks at me from under his cowboy hat and says, "I'm ready." He walks back into his place and starts grabbing his rifle and his guns. Sue comes running out and says, "Don't go, Doug, don't go!!" As he hops onto his horse, she is still pulling at him. He touches her gently and says, "I'll be back." And we ride off together to face down the bad guys. It really would not matter how many of the outlaws there are, Doug would be with me. And he would certainly find his way back to his wife and family. Doug is Loyal and he looks pretty good in a cowboy hat.
I see a lot of my friends parent their kids. I usually am smart enough to let them love their family, raise their family, and guide their family without my help. I know as a teacher, one never knows the full story and sometimes when we think strangers in a crowd are being awful parents we do not know what happened that day. Also, I know that I have never really been a parent and probably will not have that joy in my life. So it is a great pleasure to see Doug be a dad. He seems to have just the right guidance on the most complex and chaotic of situations. In the midst of the chaos, Doug seems to know exactly what is going on and often things about what an 11 year old or a 9 year old is thinking. Using another western picture, he has hold of the reins, but holds them in a way that his children always have the freedom to choose their own path. Doug's two children are both amazing in their own ways, but they are two distinct children. Doug has had to be a different Dad for each, but he is the best Dad he can be for Sean, and he is the best Dad he can be for Megan. Both of them are old enough now, to realize all that he has done for them. They are not old enough yet that they do not still need his guidance (Sean, Megan my mother and father still sometimes steer me in a different direction). And his children and his wife and myself have all felt that loyalty that he gives to so many. So it is easier for him to be a Father, because they know how much he cares for them and makes big sacrifices in his time to do things for them and with them.
Doug has promised me that when I die, he will steal my body, put it in a rowboat on Wilmore Park lake and light it on fire, giving me a Viking funeral. Several people know this story and they laugh and they kind of think it is a joke. I would not be surprised if it actually happens, so for my funeral do not send flowers, hold onto your money, Doug may need some bail money. By the way, don't ever send flowers to my funeral, unless they are artificial and you made them out of colored duct tape.
I never thought for a moment that Doug and I would not have breakfast together even though we live 2 hours away, maybe even more with awful I-70 traffic today. So that friend that lives too far away. Grow up. Hop in your car and go visit. Over the past couple years I have learned that at times I just hop in my car and drive to Columbia. I sometimes have other agendas, but usually there is always a moment, actually probably at least a half hour where Doug and I connect and renew our friendship. I know his couch is always open for me. I also know that I probably won't spend any money on food or beer, Doug is always the consummate host. The food is always amazing, usually eaten in a parking lot under the shadow of the Irish flag, but as good as that food tastes, it is so small compared to what Doug gives me as his friend--his compadre.
The Deacon -- although not an official deacon of the Catholic church, Doug has that nickname from his Columbia pals. It is easy to find fault with the Church, it is easy to make noise that a 2000 year old organization is slow and does not keep up with the times. It is a little harder to be there every Sunday and speak your voice from within. Doug does this. He has proudly raised his kids Catholic and is proud of both his Jesuit tradition and the new traditions he started with his support of Bishop Tolton high school. I think it is a little easier to hold true to a path when you are holding a compass, but it also takes a lot of hard work. It is hard to hold on to that compass, but it gets easier the more regular you make your habits. Doug hops in a car to come to St. Louis when he is needed by his mother or his extended family. He still comes once a year to sell hot dogs at the school picnic so he can keep alive a tradition started by his father. That could have easily died when his father passed, but it was important to his mother and his family, so he hops in a car after a full day of work and sells hot dogs once a year.
So for the people who are reading this or I have taken to breakfast that I see far too infrequently, I am going to strive to do better. I am going to channel my inner Doug. But guess what you can do this too, take someone to breakfast or hop in a car and go visit that old friend. Or meet halfway in Warrenton, the Waffle House is okay.
I am blessed by the Grace Doug gives me every time I see him. I hope you have a friend like Doug also. And if you don't I will probably drive to Columbia a couple of times during football season. I guarantee it will only take a game and a half, but Doug would be your friend too.
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Breakfast 62 -- Dan Higa
Be Reliable. Be Faithful. Finish what you start.
I once had 15 girls at Nerinx wanting to help me finish building a wooden bus after school. I have always been able to find a group of students who would do anything I ask. It could be a 5 minute job or 3 hours of hard work. If I ask them, they trust me. They also know I will be working next to them until the task is done. It is a heavy responsibility to know kids will walk through walls with you, if you ask. I think all of this started out at Priory, probably in Room 6 or the computer room with a group of eager 7th graders.
Be Reliable. Be Faithful. Finish what you start. This is Marian Wright Edelman's 24th lesson out of 25 that she wanted to share with her sons. I cannot think of a time when Danny Higa would not be ready to do anything I ask to help others or to make his school, Saint Louis Priory better. He was the real deal and a very conscientious kid, but he always had a smile on his face and was ready to do what was needed. He told me today, that the first thing I said to him was that I had seen his 7th grade science test and I knew he could do better. I like teaching math and I think I am good at it. But I think my biggest strength as a teacher is to be the coach and cheerleader at the same time. And to have high standards for all of my students. I remember Dave Winkler, my eighth grade teacher, and he never let me rest. Sometimes I would get a 90 on a math test and he told me that I could do better. I did this enormous book report on Ladislaw Faragow's book, Patton: Ordeal and Triumph. It was all because Dave Winkler challenged me to be better or really to be the person I was capable of being.
Danny Higa, never disappointed, he never disappointed. He was always there just on the outskirts doing the right thing. Trying his best to be the best he could be. He was the first real soccer fan I knew, and there was no doubt that his allegiance was to -- Argentina. I don't remember why we did it, but at one time I led about 50 7th and 8th grade boys on a parade to the soccer field. Danny had helped me get the recording to Alle ! Alle! Alle! That was before the internet or even iTunes, but somehow we found it. It dawns on me right now, that I had no skin in the game, I should have been cheering for Argentina, just for Danny. Sorry, Dan.
Dan told me early on that he wanted to be an airline pilot. I remember introducing him to my dad at some kind of event. My dad was an airline pilot. The cool thing about Dan is he never stopped pursuing that dream. He has been an airline pilot and is now a corporate pilot to spend more time with his family and his kids. I told him today that it was cool that he fulfilled his dream that he had from the 7th grade. He corrected me, I wanted to be a pilot since I was three.
I am so glad that Dan is living his dream and he is flying. I am not kidding I liked this kid from the first time I met him and he was always there with a smile or a laugh. I made it obvious about my interests and Danny and the other 7th graders would give me trouble about Marquette or basketball or something else. I bet if I had tapes of my teaching or leading a prayer service at Priory. Dan Higa was always right there with that slim smile of approval. He made me want to be a better teacher and I always wanted to know more so I could be a better teacher for students like Dan.
Father Boyle says, "We see in the students (homies) what they do not see in themselves . . . until they do." I kind of always Dan knew the game and knew his abilities, but I realize now he was just a small 7th grader with a lot of doubts and a lot of uncertainties. I am so damn proud of who he is today. I saw Dan at my Quik Trip just a little while back and we talked for just a minute, but I did not tell him how happy I was on that drive home up Laclede Station. I just kept laughing out loud, because I was so proud and so happy for him.
I have never seen Dan with his family, I think I was introduced to his wife once, yet I know for sure that he is a great Dad. He is kind, he is supportive, he is selfless, and he is always thinking about others.
Dan likes to fly and I am the proud son of a pilot. I think this poet is a distant relative, but I want you to read the poem and savor the words and think about a young man I know flying high. Tonight on the way home, I opened up my windows in the dark and let the wind blow in my face. I turned the radio off and started singing an old Harry Chapin song. It was not the same, but for a moment I thought I was flying.
High Flight
"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined
I once had 15 girls at Nerinx wanting to help me finish building a wooden bus after school. I have always been able to find a group of students who would do anything I ask. It could be a 5 minute job or 3 hours of hard work. If I ask them, they trust me. They also know I will be working next to them until the task is done. It is a heavy responsibility to know kids will walk through walls with you, if you ask. I think all of this started out at Priory, probably in Room 6 or the computer room with a group of eager 7th graders.
Be Reliable. Be Faithful. Finish what you start. This is Marian Wright Edelman's 24th lesson out of 25 that she wanted to share with her sons. I cannot think of a time when Danny Higa would not be ready to do anything I ask to help others or to make his school, Saint Louis Priory better. He was the real deal and a very conscientious kid, but he always had a smile on his face and was ready to do what was needed. He told me today, that the first thing I said to him was that I had seen his 7th grade science test and I knew he could do better. I like teaching math and I think I am good at it. But I think my biggest strength as a teacher is to be the coach and cheerleader at the same time. And to have high standards for all of my students. I remember Dave Winkler, my eighth grade teacher, and he never let me rest. Sometimes I would get a 90 on a math test and he told me that I could do better. I did this enormous book report on Ladislaw Faragow's book, Patton: Ordeal and Triumph. It was all because Dave Winkler challenged me to be better or really to be the person I was capable of being.
Danny Higa, never disappointed, he never disappointed. He was always there just on the outskirts doing the right thing. Trying his best to be the best he could be. He was the first real soccer fan I knew, and there was no doubt that his allegiance was to -- Argentina. I don't remember why we did it, but at one time I led about 50 7th and 8th grade boys on a parade to the soccer field. Danny had helped me get the recording to Alle ! Alle! Alle! That was before the internet or even iTunes, but somehow we found it. It dawns on me right now, that I had no skin in the game, I should have been cheering for Argentina, just for Danny. Sorry, Dan.
Dan told me early on that he wanted to be an airline pilot. I remember introducing him to my dad at some kind of event. My dad was an airline pilot. The cool thing about Dan is he never stopped pursuing that dream. He has been an airline pilot and is now a corporate pilot to spend more time with his family and his kids. I told him today that it was cool that he fulfilled his dream that he had from the 7th grade. He corrected me, I wanted to be a pilot since I was three.
I am so glad that Dan is living his dream and he is flying. I am not kidding I liked this kid from the first time I met him and he was always there with a smile or a laugh. I made it obvious about my interests and Danny and the other 7th graders would give me trouble about Marquette or basketball or something else. I bet if I had tapes of my teaching or leading a prayer service at Priory. Dan Higa was always right there with that slim smile of approval. He made me want to be a better teacher and I always wanted to know more so I could be a better teacher for students like Dan.
Father Boyle says, "We see in the students (homies) what they do not see in themselves . . . until they do." I kind of always Dan knew the game and knew his abilities, but I realize now he was just a small 7th grader with a lot of doubts and a lot of uncertainties. I am so damn proud of who he is today. I saw Dan at my Quik Trip just a little while back and we talked for just a minute, but I did not tell him how happy I was on that drive home up Laclede Station. I just kept laughing out loud, because I was so proud and so happy for him.
I have never seen Dan with his family, I think I was introduced to his wife once, yet I know for sure that he is a great Dad. He is kind, he is supportive, he is selfless, and he is always thinking about others.
Dan likes to fly and I am the proud son of a pilot. I think this poet is a distant relative, but I want you to read the poem and savor the words and think about a young man I know flying high. Tonight on the way home, I opened up my windows in the dark and let the wind blow in my face. I turned the radio off and started singing an old Harry Chapin song. It was not the same, but for a moment I thought I was flying.
High Flight
"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined
the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds -
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
A poem by John Gillespie Magee
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
"Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God." I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
A poem by John Gillespie Magee
Monday, July 23, 2018
Breakfast 61 -- Frank Corley
Fathers and sons, fathers and sons, I just saw Ramon Poncedeleon interviewed on TV. A little over a year ago, he got a call that his son was hit by a baseball and was in critical condition. Tonight, a dream come true, watching your son pitch in the major leagues. And what did his son do, he pitched 116 beautiful pitches and no-hit the Reds through 7 innings. Mike Shildt had a decision to make let the kid pursue one of the most illustrious prizes in sports or think about his long term career and "save" the kid for more down the road. Neither of these scenarios is certain, a year from now this kid could be great or he could be out of baseball. He might have thrown a no-hitter or he may not have. His father watched on as his other father "Mike Shildt" tried to make the best decision he could make.
I once took a road trip with Frank Corley where he was trying to be the best father he could be. I will not forget his strength and the calm he maintained on the inside, when I know he had to be just churning up inside. In an earlier blog, I talked about the real translation of the Greek word for compassion. It means the same thing with an extra twist, you literally feel it in your gut. On that day, Frank felt something in his gut, today for a couple of hours my father was concerned and felt something in his gut, and then I watched Ramon. Fathers are pretty amazing.
God told Frank Corley to be a father twice, Frank said back to God, "Did you mean two dozen?" Rick and Cate and Whitney and Josie and Jimmie and Deion and Devon and Mark and.... and.... and. Frank and his wife Teresa keep answering the call, "Yes!" even when no one is asking the question, they find the answer to be "Yes!"
There are times now when I would rather talk about a math problem with Frank Corley than anyone else on the planet. Especially when neither of us knows the answer, then it is the pursuit that is the joy and actually when one of us solves it-- the thrill is gone. It is not like fishing, I wish we could catch and release, but our brains now know the path and so the pursuit and the fun is gone. I italicized the word now because I think the two of us would rather talk about a math problem with our Jedi Master J Brian Barry.
Because we are both SLUH boys, too smart and too arrogant, we have sometimes bumped heads in the past. I do not know how Frank comes back to the middle, back to our friendship, but I know how I do. It is Josie... and Naomi... and Pedro... and Anayadwe. I don't know the names, I know Frank and Teresa do, but they would have to think about it. They would have to remember being there as Mom and Dad for kids without for kids who needed help or needed a hug.
The wonderful poem by Ina J. Hughes, "We Pray for Children"
here is a taste.....
We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, Who sleep with the cat and bury goldfish, Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money, Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, Who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert, who have no safe blanket to drag behind them, who watch their parents watch them die, who can't find any bread to steal, who don't have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser, whose monsters are real.
Frank has been that dad for the second group. I guess he is called a Foster Dad, but as John Friskel's brother taught me, I am just going to call him Dad. I sometimes am annoyed at Frank on small things he does, the small choices he makes, or just when he was my boss. Then I have to remember the LARGE things has done as a Dad. Frank has come very close to perfect. I have seen him do it. When I think of our small quarrels, I just remember when I have seen him close to perfect.
Frank has many joys and many laughs, but there have been those moments that no one should have. When you realized you have done your best, and there is a child out in the world somewhere who has chosen to fight monsters on their own. Frank told me years ago when this happens I just say, "Lord, I have done my best and tried my best, but this one is out in your world now, so it is your turn to look after him.... her." I was a Foster Dad for 14 months in my life. I am so proud of that young man and hope to have breakfast with him soon. But Frank and Teresa (sorry T this is Frank's breakfast, I love you and are equally proud of you.)
Today they interviewed Ramon Poncedeleon and I did not hear a word. I just thought about my friend Frank who has always been there for children. Children who have no one else. In today's political climate, we are debating separating children from parents. We are debating this: like there are two side. There are not two sides, if you think there are go talk to Frank or Teresa who have seen children cry because they feel lost and abandoned. Those are different cries. There is a different sound to those cries. So here is one answer. Compassion. Father Boyle tells us just to assume the answer to every question is compassion. The compassion we feel in our gut. There are two people that I know Tim Milford and Frank Corley that I have seen pick up a baby, it literally could be any baby, and they just hold on and hug them. I have to find that picture of Tim Milford holding the baby at First Missionary Baptist of Biloxi, MS. To show you what I mean. But I have also seen Frank Corley hold a baby like there was nothing else going on in the world. His focus was just on loving the child in his arms.
So if I had my niece, Nora making this movie, we would right now show a picture of a large house drawn by a child. It would have so many windows, and in each window there would be a picture of a child smiling or waving. If you want to see the real house it is just up the street from the Black Thorn, just 3 blocks?? north and make a left.
This is what community looks like. Thanks Dad.
I once took a road trip with Frank Corley where he was trying to be the best father he could be. I will not forget his strength and the calm he maintained on the inside, when I know he had to be just churning up inside. In an earlier blog, I talked about the real translation of the Greek word for compassion. It means the same thing with an extra twist, you literally feel it in your gut. On that day, Frank felt something in his gut, today for a couple of hours my father was concerned and felt something in his gut, and then I watched Ramon. Fathers are pretty amazing.
God told Frank Corley to be a father twice, Frank said back to God, "Did you mean two dozen?" Rick and Cate and Whitney and Josie and Jimmie and Deion and Devon and Mark and.... and.... and. Frank and his wife Teresa keep answering the call, "Yes!" even when no one is asking the question, they find the answer to be "Yes!"
There are times now when I would rather talk about a math problem with Frank Corley than anyone else on the planet. Especially when neither of us knows the answer, then it is the pursuit that is the joy and actually when one of us solves it-- the thrill is gone. It is not like fishing, I wish we could catch and release, but our brains now know the path and so the pursuit and the fun is gone. I italicized the word now because I think the two of us would rather talk about a math problem with our Jedi Master J Brian Barry.
Because we are both SLUH boys, too smart and too arrogant, we have sometimes bumped heads in the past. I do not know how Frank comes back to the middle, back to our friendship, but I know how I do. It is Josie... and Naomi... and Pedro... and Anayadwe. I don't know the names, I know Frank and Teresa do, but they would have to think about it. They would have to remember being there as Mom and Dad for kids without for kids who needed help or needed a hug.
The wonderful poem by Ina J. Hughes, "We Pray for Children"
here is a taste.....
We pray for children
Frank has been that dad for the second group. I guess he is called a Foster Dad, but as John Friskel's brother taught me, I am just going to call him Dad. I sometimes am annoyed at Frank on small things he does, the small choices he makes, or just when he was my boss. Then I have to remember the LARGE things has done as a Dad. Frank has come very close to perfect. I have seen him do it. When I think of our small quarrels, I just remember when I have seen him close to perfect.
Frank has many joys and many laughs, but there have been those moments that no one should have. When you realized you have done your best, and there is a child out in the world somewhere who has chosen to fight monsters on their own. Frank told me years ago when this happens I just say, "Lord, I have done my best and tried my best, but this one is out in your world now, so it is your turn to look after him.... her." I was a Foster Dad for 14 months in my life. I am so proud of that young man and hope to have breakfast with him soon. But Frank and Teresa (sorry T this is Frank's breakfast, I love you and are equally proud of you.)
Today they interviewed Ramon Poncedeleon and I did not hear a word. I just thought about my friend Frank who has always been there for children. Children who have no one else. In today's political climate, we are debating separating children from parents. We are debating this: like there are two side. There are not two sides, if you think there are go talk to Frank or Teresa who have seen children cry because they feel lost and abandoned. Those are different cries. There is a different sound to those cries. So here is one answer. Compassion. Father Boyle tells us just to assume the answer to every question is compassion. The compassion we feel in our gut. There are two people that I know Tim Milford and Frank Corley that I have seen pick up a baby, it literally could be any baby, and they just hold on and hug them. I have to find that picture of Tim Milford holding the baby at First Missionary Baptist of Biloxi, MS. To show you what I mean. But I have also seen Frank Corley hold a baby like there was nothing else going on in the world. His focus was just on loving the child in his arms.
So if I had my niece, Nora making this movie, we would right now show a picture of a large house drawn by a child. It would have so many windows, and in each window there would be a picture of a child smiling or waving. If you want to see the real house it is just up the street from the Black Thorn, just 3 blocks?? north and make a left.
This is what community looks like. Thanks Dad.
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Breakfast 60 -- Nora Jane Thiemann
I am double writing tonight, busy weekend. So for the Sepers, I was reminded of the Antje Duvekot song, "Merry-Go-Round." Listen here
Someone is tossing petals in a stream
Somewhere someone is standing at the foothills of their dreams
Someone got a paintbrush, is painting over doubts
Someone opened up his eyes and saw the sun coming out
Someone was captive and found the courage to get off
From a boulder in the well, somewhere the rain has stopped
Someone is finding the place where they belong
Someone is tossing petals in a stream
Somewhere someone is standing at the foothills of their dreams
Someone got a paintbrush, is painting over doubts
Someone opened up his eyes and saw the sun coming out
Someone was captive and found the courage to get off
From a boulder in the well, somewhere the rain has stopped
Someone is finding the place where they belong
So now everything in this song makes me think of Nora. She "is standing at the foothill of her dreams." And the thing is right now, I do not know what the future will hold. And then I took a break and watched the petals in the stream and the little kid drawing the foothills of her dream. And a lot of ducks, I will have to ask Nora what she thinks about this film, and the editing, and the choices. Nora is getting in to making films and shooting pictures and making choices. She is almost the youngest in the larger Magee family. But man, as an old man to be at the foothills of your dreams, fills me with joy, and makes me so happy for Nora.
Nora rolls with the punches, and just takes what the world gives her (some severe allergies) and just figures out how to live with it. She is the kid sister and makes all of her brothers and sisters happy. I think there is some campaigning where Nora will begin her big girl life. I think both of her sisters would like her in their city. Chicago to Los Angeles is not a possible daily commute, so who knows. Grandma Jane wants her close and still probes for me to recount the entire breakfast conversation as she could live the rest of her life hearing about her grandchildren.
Last year after a Mizzou football game and a night at Doug's I made plans to take Nora to breakfast. I told her to bring her roommates. One came--Anna Fiordelisi, the niece of my good friend. I do not know how much that breakfast caused me to want to do 60 of them, but I remember enjoying our time together and our conversation so much. The Irish call it Craic, just the telling of stories. All three of us took turns telling stories. It was great. I vaguely know Anna's parents and nothing about her wonderful being surprises me. Nora and Anna were so good at just being okay with a long wait at IHOP and they were not even bothered. While others rolled their eyes, and the crowding of a small lobby had every one on edge, the three of us laughed. We could not believe the amount of complaining and the drama we were one table away from.
I think that might be Nora's super power. To see the realities of the situation, and not be flustered or worried about things she cannot change. She is always easy going, ready for the next bump or obstacle. Sometimes the youngest gets forgotten. I think if that happened Nora would just laugh and then have a wonderful story to tell. I do not know what the future holds for my niece. I know she will make me laugh and smile for as long as I am here. I know she will be kind. I know she will not forget the forgotten. She will continue to be a good sister and a great friend. The kind of friend you can just hang with, when times are bad or when they are good. Nora will be there.
Now, Shhhhhhhhh. Pass the Popcorn the movie is starting. I don't want to miss this one.
(the camera pans from the petals on the pond to a majestic mountain capped with snow, a woman with a soft voice begins to sing. the credits begin to roll.
a film by Nora Thiemann
Breakfast 59 -- Linda and Mike Seper
So you can get on Ancestry.com and start or connect to your family tree. Since I have been doing this breakfast, the friend tree to me is more interesting. Tom Kutz did this on his basketball pool once and tracked how everyone came to join in. If it was not for Holly Dame and Mary Kay Gorman, there might never have been good friends Sarah and Michele. If it was not for Shona Clarkson, well pretty much everyone in Uganda and all my T/EX friends which means no Brooklyn Rose baby this past year at my parent's house.
Back a decade or so ago, we would have 50 or 60 freshmen students try out for Nerinx basketball. It was one of my favorite days of the year, on one of those big days, I met a skinny, goofy laughing kid named Lauren Lampe. She would instantly become one of my favorites. Short story, she once got poked in the eye during a game and refused to come out. Then while still blinking and holding her eye, she called for the ball because she was open for a 3. She made the shot.
I met Andrea Seper her best friend through Lauren and soon they were both signed up and ready to go to Biloxi. I remember I gave Andrea the nickname "Kickster" and Lauren busted her chops on the nickname, because she called Andrea the least likely to ever be a kickster. I remember how that whole conversation went down. You could tell they had known each other for a long time and this was just going to be one more laugh to share.
Mike Seper was one of the dads over the years who decided he was going to join his daughter in Biloxi and take a week off of work, (never easy for anyone, but HOLY COW the work that dads have done to be with their daughters on this week is amazing). Mike was always a guy ready to pitch in, the group was so large then, I do not know if Mike has any skills or not. I just know he was always ready to do more, to work harder, and to add that extra special touch. We were working on a house on Heidenheim. Right down the street from a house, we helped build from the ground up. There was a lot of green algae or growth on this house, and our job was just to make everything look better. Mike noticed that the front porch had a wood railing and exactly one spindle or vertical piece was missing. He then made it his mission to find this piece, paint it up and get in installed. I do not always see the special touches that over 100 parents have added to this trip, but I remember quite a few. Mike was relentless in getting this right and making it look good. I am not sure how many stores he went to or how many trips it took, but it was going to get done. With just a lot of power washing, some new green paint, and Mike's spindle. This house looked immensely better in just a couple of days. There was a Bank of America commercial that advocated service a couple of years ago. They used a song from Antje Duvekot that used the line , "someone got a paint brush and is painting over doubt." hear it.
We all need a paint brush, a good coat of paint on the worst house brings promise and hope, it gets rid of doubt. Maybe no one saw the spindle, but maybe this small kindness "tossed petals in the stream" for someone and started a ripple that gave someone their worth. I know stories and their next chapters for a lot of people that we work with in Biloxi, but what we try to do is just share kindness and treat people like the wonderful people they are-- on their best day.
I know that Mike Seper has been Facebook friends with my parents for some time. They often laugh at his posts or his puns. When I told them that I was going to breakfast with the Sepers, they had forgotten all about the Biloxi connection. I think I might have been the branch for the Linda and Mike Seper and Jane and Jack Magee to connect. I know that every time the Sepers saw my parents at St. Dominic Savio Mass, he walked up to them, greeted them with a smile, and wished them well. He then would tell them how good they looked, sometimes this was after hospital stays, new hips or some kind of health problems. I know his words made my parents feel loved. This is the parish that is no more. Mike and Linda are kind of a half generation between me and my parents. I think of the friends that my parents had at St. Dominic's, there was the Holyoke bunch and the old neighbors--friend for more than 50 years, but there was also new friends like Mike that they had met somewhere along the way. Who knows whose Faith was increased just a little by the example of Jane and Jack Magee. Maybe just a couple, maybe more and who knows how many older people living alone who go to Mass each week because Mike Seper or Linda will say hi to them. This is what community looks like. Sadly that is over for the people of this parish.
I am a teacher...but because I stepped up either foolishly or compassionately I have had many different jobs in the last 10 years. Mike told me at breakfast, many of the different things he has done over the years. The last being a short, but wonderful stint at Tower Tee. (damn, another part of my youth that is gone). Linda watched young children and Mike kept working trying their best to do their best for their two children. I do not know their son, but I know Andrea and she is moving forward and now starting her own family. She does not have to look far for examples on how to live or how to love.
Mike Seper is a good guy. That is how I would introduce him if I was called to. He sold cars, he loves hockey, he has his own sense of humor. My friend Tony and I met the new boyfriend of a young woman we knew. As we left the bar he said, "That's all you want out of a guy, to be pleasant and to tell a couple of good stories." Mike and Linda told a couple of good stories while we enjoyed breakfast together. I am glad they both are in my life. Somewhere in the conversation, Mike said he had been married 45 years? and was quite happy. It was just an off the cuff remark about loyalty and love. I think they both know what they have -- a wonderful marriage where they both worked hard to do their best for their children. Now they get to sit back and see the smiles of their grandkids and watch their own children build their lives. I am jealous, I would like to be Mike Seper for a week.
Back a decade or so ago, we would have 50 or 60 freshmen students try out for Nerinx basketball. It was one of my favorite days of the year, on one of those big days, I met a skinny, goofy laughing kid named Lauren Lampe. She would instantly become one of my favorites. Short story, she once got poked in the eye during a game and refused to come out. Then while still blinking and holding her eye, she called for the ball because she was open for a 3. She made the shot.
I met Andrea Seper her best friend through Lauren and soon they were both signed up and ready to go to Biloxi. I remember I gave Andrea the nickname "Kickster" and Lauren busted her chops on the nickname, because she called Andrea the least likely to ever be a kickster. I remember how that whole conversation went down. You could tell they had known each other for a long time and this was just going to be one more laugh to share.
Mike Seper was one of the dads over the years who decided he was going to join his daughter in Biloxi and take a week off of work, (never easy for anyone, but HOLY COW the work that dads have done to be with their daughters on this week is amazing). Mike was always a guy ready to pitch in, the group was so large then, I do not know if Mike has any skills or not. I just know he was always ready to do more, to work harder, and to add that extra special touch. We were working on a house on Heidenheim. Right down the street from a house, we helped build from the ground up. There was a lot of green algae or growth on this house, and our job was just to make everything look better. Mike noticed that the front porch had a wood railing and exactly one spindle or vertical piece was missing. He then made it his mission to find this piece, paint it up and get in installed. I do not always see the special touches that over 100 parents have added to this trip, but I remember quite a few. Mike was relentless in getting this right and making it look good. I am not sure how many stores he went to or how many trips it took, but it was going to get done. With just a lot of power washing, some new green paint, and Mike's spindle. This house looked immensely better in just a couple of days. There was a Bank of America commercial that advocated service a couple of years ago. They used a song from Antje Duvekot that used the line , "someone got a paint brush and is painting over doubt." hear it.
We all need a paint brush, a good coat of paint on the worst house brings promise and hope, it gets rid of doubt. Maybe no one saw the spindle, but maybe this small kindness "tossed petals in the stream" for someone and started a ripple that gave someone their worth. I know stories and their next chapters for a lot of people that we work with in Biloxi, but what we try to do is just share kindness and treat people like the wonderful people they are-- on their best day.
I know that Mike Seper has been Facebook friends with my parents for some time. They often laugh at his posts or his puns. When I told them that I was going to breakfast with the Sepers, they had forgotten all about the Biloxi connection. I think I might have been the branch for the Linda and Mike Seper and Jane and Jack Magee to connect. I know that every time the Sepers saw my parents at St. Dominic Savio Mass, he walked up to them, greeted them with a smile, and wished them well. He then would tell them how good they looked, sometimes this was after hospital stays, new hips or some kind of health problems. I know his words made my parents feel loved. This is the parish that is no more. Mike and Linda are kind of a half generation between me and my parents. I think of the friends that my parents had at St. Dominic's, there was the Holyoke bunch and the old neighbors--friend for more than 50 years, but there was also new friends like Mike that they had met somewhere along the way. Who knows whose Faith was increased just a little by the example of Jane and Jack Magee. Maybe just a couple, maybe more and who knows how many older people living alone who go to Mass each week because Mike Seper or Linda will say hi to them. This is what community looks like. Sadly that is over for the people of this parish.
I am a teacher...but because I stepped up either foolishly or compassionately I have had many different jobs in the last 10 years. Mike told me at breakfast, many of the different things he has done over the years. The last being a short, but wonderful stint at Tower Tee. (damn, another part of my youth that is gone). Linda watched young children and Mike kept working trying their best to do their best for their two children. I do not know their son, but I know Andrea and she is moving forward and now starting her own family. She does not have to look far for examples on how to live or how to love.
Mike Seper is a good guy. That is how I would introduce him if I was called to. He sold cars, he loves hockey, he has his own sense of humor. My friend Tony and I met the new boyfriend of a young woman we knew. As we left the bar he said, "That's all you want out of a guy, to be pleasant and to tell a couple of good stories." Mike and Linda told a couple of good stories while we enjoyed breakfast together. I am glad they both are in my life. Somewhere in the conversation, Mike said he had been married 45 years? and was quite happy. It was just an off the cuff remark about loyalty and love. I think they both know what they have -- a wonderful marriage where they both worked hard to do their best for their children. Now they get to sit back and see the smiles of their grandkids and watch their own children build their lives. I am jealous, I would like to be Mike Seper for a week.
Friday, July 20, 2018
Breakfast 58 -- Tim Kaufmann
I have several rules that I try to follow for each breakfast. Number 1 is be on time, which to me means 15 minutes early. Today I showed up 10 minutes late, I think Tim was 10 minutes early. I saw it a little bit this year when John Duvall talked about his teaching. I also saw it in Biloxi when Hayley Kuehner had donations for the food pantry, organized the food pantry buying group, and then had her team load the food pantry. I was not needed. I hope I have this feeling more often. Today, Tim was on it. He was definitely ahead of me. I think he asked better questions than I did, and it was his style and friendliness that guided the whole breakfast. Tim, in just an hour, impressed me very much. It might be time for me to move to the right lane, and let some of the talent of this next generation pass me by.
Tim was the high school quarterback and was the BMOC on the campus of Priory, which has an extra level of adulation as the 7th and 8th graders at the school get to see the older kids, they have their heros. Tim was a good quarterback on good teams and he was always ready to be loud and get his team pumped up. He loved football and being part of that team. As a high school teacher, you often see immature young men make bad decisions and you just kind of wince and sometimes lead them back to the right path, and other times leave them to their own devices so they can figure it out. I am racking my memory and I do not remember a hiccup like this from Tim. He was also very good to the young students who would come up and want to talk to him. In America, it seems a certain percentage of people hate the high school quarterback, sometimes when the kid is a Tom Brady type, the disdain should happen. But there are also the Kurt Warner types who is very real to the person that he is. I think Tim was always real. He was enthusiastic and he loved talking to both the coaching staff and his teammates. This team and this feeling was real to Tim and he loved it. This is what community looks like. Tim also reveled in the idea of team sports as much as anyone I have taught or coached. He was always cheering for Priory to to do better whether it was his team or another one. I also enjoyed the Field Days with Priory students, I was young enough to compete with them, often beating them, in different sports. Tim is one of those guys who always figured out a way to play a sport and come out on top. Tim was not a golfer in high school, but he told me today he is becoming better. He might be one of those guys who keeps learning more and is a better golfer at 48 then he was at 28.
Most of all, Tim Kaufmann is a gamer. There was never any doubt whether we were playing a great team or a not so great team, that Tim would do everything possible to compete, to make his teammates better, and in the end to win. Right now, if I was playing Ultimate Frisbee or Pickleball, I would want Tim on my team, because he would compete whether he knew the sport or not.
I often have to tell my former students that they are adults and they can call me John. Tim greeted me with "Hi, John." and it felt really natural. Tim is in the commercial real estate business and seems to be doing well, but I will tell you right now that Tim is in the people business with a minor in Commercial Real Estate. I do not think it is an accident when the Golf Pro at his club needed someone to play with a Country Music star in town, the golf pro chose Tim. I think right now, I could put Tim in any situation and he would not only make every feel welcome, he would also be in complete control of the meeting.
Holy Cow, I felt like the old veteran who gets passed up by the rookie phenom, but that is the wrong analogy. Tim is the wise veteran and I guess I am an old coach. In passing, Tim mentioned that he was on some sort of charitable board. After being on several boards, I would want Tim on my board, he would definitely bring value to an organization and also be the person at the board meeting who would bring up a salient point or a new solution that no one else had thought about.
I hope like many of these breakfasts that I find ways to continue this and make time for these wonderful people. I feel I could sit down and have a 4 hour conversation with Tim and always be interested in what he is talking about. I also like the fact that Tim talked to me about growing and making sure he is a better version of himself every couple of years. He has a 3 month old now and another kid. He is going to make a great dad and I predict he will be an even better dad in 2028 than he was in 2018.
Tim, just like I was late for breakfast, I might have missed telling you how proud of you I am. I hope we get together soon. Maybe even at a 5K. Ha. Ha.
Tim was the high school quarterback and was the BMOC on the campus of Priory, which has an extra level of adulation as the 7th and 8th graders at the school get to see the older kids, they have their heros. Tim was a good quarterback on good teams and he was always ready to be loud and get his team pumped up. He loved football and being part of that team. As a high school teacher, you often see immature young men make bad decisions and you just kind of wince and sometimes lead them back to the right path, and other times leave them to their own devices so they can figure it out. I am racking my memory and I do not remember a hiccup like this from Tim. He was also very good to the young students who would come up and want to talk to him. In America, it seems a certain percentage of people hate the high school quarterback, sometimes when the kid is a Tom Brady type, the disdain should happen. But there are also the Kurt Warner types who is very real to the person that he is. I think Tim was always real. He was enthusiastic and he loved talking to both the coaching staff and his teammates. This team and this feeling was real to Tim and he loved it. This is what community looks like. Tim also reveled in the idea of team sports as much as anyone I have taught or coached. He was always cheering for Priory to to do better whether it was his team or another one. I also enjoyed the Field Days with Priory students, I was young enough to compete with them, often beating them, in different sports. Tim is one of those guys who always figured out a way to play a sport and come out on top. Tim was not a golfer in high school, but he told me today he is becoming better. He might be one of those guys who keeps learning more and is a better golfer at 48 then he was at 28.
Most of all, Tim Kaufmann is a gamer. There was never any doubt whether we were playing a great team or a not so great team, that Tim would do everything possible to compete, to make his teammates better, and in the end to win. Right now, if I was playing Ultimate Frisbee or Pickleball, I would want Tim on my team, because he would compete whether he knew the sport or not.
I often have to tell my former students that they are adults and they can call me John. Tim greeted me with "Hi, John." and it felt really natural. Tim is in the commercial real estate business and seems to be doing well, but I will tell you right now that Tim is in the people business with a minor in Commercial Real Estate. I do not think it is an accident when the Golf Pro at his club needed someone to play with a Country Music star in town, the golf pro chose Tim. I think right now, I could put Tim in any situation and he would not only make every feel welcome, he would also be in complete control of the meeting.
Holy Cow, I felt like the old veteran who gets passed up by the rookie phenom, but that is the wrong analogy. Tim is the wise veteran and I guess I am an old coach. In passing, Tim mentioned that he was on some sort of charitable board. After being on several boards, I would want Tim on my board, he would definitely bring value to an organization and also be the person at the board meeting who would bring up a salient point or a new solution that no one else had thought about.
I hope like many of these breakfasts that I find ways to continue this and make time for these wonderful people. I feel I could sit down and have a 4 hour conversation with Tim and always be interested in what he is talking about. I also like the fact that Tim talked to me about growing and making sure he is a better version of himself every couple of years. He has a 3 month old now and another kid. He is going to make a great dad and I predict he will be an even better dad in 2028 than he was in 2018.
Tim, just like I was late for breakfast, I might have missed telling you how proud of you I am. I hope we get together soon. Maybe even at a 5K. Ha. Ha.
Breakfast 57 -- Malik Farmer
705 Summit Avenue in East St. Louis is where I have gone in the past for Grace, kindness, and often the hard kernel of truth that I need to push myself forward -- to stand up and finish the journey. I have the most wonderful conversations with a woman who lives her Faith every day , year after year. Recently, my 86 year old parents got pushed aside when the Catholic Church decided to close St. Dominic Savio. Over the years, I often find myself being the liberal who defends the Church. But I have been fortunate to see the true beauty of the Church "and awe came upon every soul". Acts 2:43. I don't quote a lot of scripture, but Father Boyle uses this line and when I see what Catholic priests and sisters do. Then definitely awe comes upon me. It could be Father Leonsyo in northern Uganda, it could be Father Braun many sundays, or it could be Sister Carol on the East Side. This is the Church I love. This is what guides my Faith. I have to figure out a way to have breakfast with this remarkable woman, who spreads her love to families, and to me every time I see her. Years ago, Sister Carol saw there were opportunities for young men in her community to be educated at Loyola Academy. It meant the 11 or 12 year olds would have to walk to a bus, take the bus to Metro Link, take Metro Link to Grand, take the Grand Bus to Lindell, then walk two blocks. She had a dream for Micah and Eddie and Calvin and Malik.
This is Malik's story, the kid who actually put in the work and got to school this way for three years. On cold days and hot days, days with snow, and days with rain, Malik go to school. A lot of battles can be won with your head and your heart, but do not ever forget your feet have to be in the right place also. Loyola remains a treasure tucked into a corner just north of Saint Louis University. Where 60-70 young men go to school from early morning until dinner time and then come back for six weeks during the summer. It is designed to give young men like Malik a chance. But the work has to come from each young boy, and the work is hard, and the hours are long.
When I was there as a teacher and Malik was there as a student. We preached that we wanted each young boy to become a Loyola Man. It was important to know what a man is, and often young boys in this country get many different views of what this is. Malik had a good smile, a head full of dreadlocks, and a propensity to be polite or to help out. He was also a 6th grader, so at times those great skills of stepping forward were harder to carry out in practice. I remember Malik even years later, when he would come back to help as a high school student, could be one of the most helpful young men in the school. The Jesuits talk about a "Man for Others". Malik came back to be there for the young students as an alumni.
This morning when I first saw, Malik he was different. The dreads were gone, and he was no longer a skinny little kid. He was a man. I was seated across the table from a man who is working two jobs and working to move forward, to build something with his life. He has the experience of 3 years at Loyola, and even more important the years of mentoring at the Family Center, but Malik worked hard and continues to work hard. As we talked, he was trying to make the restaurant he works at -- a better place. I think of Amos working just as hard as Malik on the other side of the world, and I wish somehow I could bring Amos here. I think Malik and Amos would get along fine. And I think Malik would be the perfect host, giving of his own time to make sure our visitor felt welcome. I am going to have to buy one more lottery ticket-- this dream is too perfect.
Malik could be strong in his viewpoints and argue passionately. We both forget what the bet was about, but somehow I bested him in a wager, and he still owes me one of his dreadlocks. One of the best and most enjoyable experiences I had at Loyola is when I would occasionally drive the East Side kids home. They loved it, because it meant door to door service instead of their usual 5 vehicle way home. I loved it, because the conversations were so real and so honest and they would do their best to tell me about their home. They would not be shy about telling me the realities of growing up in East St. Louis. And even at our breakfast, Malik casually mentioned about moving across the river and staying downtown.
I do not remember why or how it happened, but I do remember a day when it was Malik and Calvin and I and we stopped at the Taco Bell along I-64 and there were literally nothing but fields surrounding the restaurant. We walked over to one of the fields and did our best to create a 3 man football game. I think we played for about an hour, and I had the best time. I still enjoy it when I make up rules to a new game with my friends of 40 years. I will have to remember to do that in a couple of weeks when we travel to Pittsburgh. Kids everywhere should have a time and a place to play. To throw a football and not to worry about anything but catching the pass, and then of course to make up an elaborate and spontaneous touchdown dance.
Malik told me today, how much he and his classmates enjoy seeing each other when they stumble upon each other in their daily lives. I have to remember to make the Christmas reunion this year, I am not intentional enough about attending. Malik told me that the students at Loyola, his classmates, are his brothers. Maybe if they learned nothing else, and they did have a strong educational experience, they learned this-- how to be a brother. This IS what community looks like.
I dropped Malik off at his job, and right away he started working and trying to make things better. Malik is moving forward. He is a man now. He is a Loyola man, and I am so damn proud of him and who he is. A woman who lives her Faith named Carol started the ball rolling and Malik has now found his own momentum and his own path.
This is Malik's story, the kid who actually put in the work and got to school this way for three years. On cold days and hot days, days with snow, and days with rain, Malik go to school. A lot of battles can be won with your head and your heart, but do not ever forget your feet have to be in the right place also. Loyola remains a treasure tucked into a corner just north of Saint Louis University. Where 60-70 young men go to school from early morning until dinner time and then come back for six weeks during the summer. It is designed to give young men like Malik a chance. But the work has to come from each young boy, and the work is hard, and the hours are long.
When I was there as a teacher and Malik was there as a student. We preached that we wanted each young boy to become a Loyola Man. It was important to know what a man is, and often young boys in this country get many different views of what this is. Malik had a good smile, a head full of dreadlocks, and a propensity to be polite or to help out. He was also a 6th grader, so at times those great skills of stepping forward were harder to carry out in practice. I remember Malik even years later, when he would come back to help as a high school student, could be one of the most helpful young men in the school. The Jesuits talk about a "Man for Others". Malik came back to be there for the young students as an alumni.
This morning when I first saw, Malik he was different. The dreads were gone, and he was no longer a skinny little kid. He was a man. I was seated across the table from a man who is working two jobs and working to move forward, to build something with his life. He has the experience of 3 years at Loyola, and even more important the years of mentoring at the Family Center, but Malik worked hard and continues to work hard. As we talked, he was trying to make the restaurant he works at -- a better place. I think of Amos working just as hard as Malik on the other side of the world, and I wish somehow I could bring Amos here. I think Malik and Amos would get along fine. And I think Malik would be the perfect host, giving of his own time to make sure our visitor felt welcome. I am going to have to buy one more lottery ticket-- this dream is too perfect.
Malik could be strong in his viewpoints and argue passionately. We both forget what the bet was about, but somehow I bested him in a wager, and he still owes me one of his dreadlocks. One of the best and most enjoyable experiences I had at Loyola is when I would occasionally drive the East Side kids home. They loved it, because it meant door to door service instead of their usual 5 vehicle way home. I loved it, because the conversations were so real and so honest and they would do their best to tell me about their home. They would not be shy about telling me the realities of growing up in East St. Louis. And even at our breakfast, Malik casually mentioned about moving across the river and staying downtown.
I do not remember why or how it happened, but I do remember a day when it was Malik and Calvin and I and we stopped at the Taco Bell along I-64 and there were literally nothing but fields surrounding the restaurant. We walked over to one of the fields and did our best to create a 3 man football game. I think we played for about an hour, and I had the best time. I still enjoy it when I make up rules to a new game with my friends of 40 years. I will have to remember to do that in a couple of weeks when we travel to Pittsburgh. Kids everywhere should have a time and a place to play. To throw a football and not to worry about anything but catching the pass, and then of course to make up an elaborate and spontaneous touchdown dance.
Malik told me today, how much he and his classmates enjoy seeing each other when they stumble upon each other in their daily lives. I have to remember to make the Christmas reunion this year, I am not intentional enough about attending. Malik told me that the students at Loyola, his classmates, are his brothers. Maybe if they learned nothing else, and they did have a strong educational experience, they learned this-- how to be a brother. This IS what community looks like.
I dropped Malik off at his job, and right away he started working and trying to make things better. Malik is moving forward. He is a man now. He is a Loyola man, and I am so damn proud of him and who he is. A woman who lives her Faith named Carol started the ball rolling and Malik has now found his own momentum and his own path.
Thursday, July 19, 2018
Breakfast 56 -- Debbie Christanell
I have now had breakfast with two of the very first students I saw in homeroom, the very first day I was a teacher. I wish I could win the Mega Millions, because I think I would just start my own reunions!! Every day could be a entire class, the original homeroom W15, Algebra I in E14 at Nerinx, the freshmen honors geometry class at Priory room 197, my eighth grade class at Loyola the day of 9/11, my advisory table at Loyola, the advisory group at Nerinx, when we made Lasagna and had an Italian dinner while the other students bought subway. So many great memories.
So I started teaching at Nerinx when Debbie was a sophomore. At the same time, I was coaching St. Dominic Savio in a CYC high school league. So Holly, Mary Kay, Berta, Michele, Gina, Colleen, and Julie were on my team we played against St. Michael's and Debbie was playing on that team. Every time she saw me she laughed out loud. The ball went out of bounds and she got close to me and laughed. That was when I nicknamed her the Happiest Kid In America. She has kind of always been that to me. Now I know she has had her own struggles and her own obstacles, but she still greets many people in her life with a smile or a laugh. That is selfless. Selfless. Knowing that things are not always perfect, but you present yourselves to others with a sweetness and a smile, so their day will be okay or maybe just a little bit better.
I try to smile at everyone I see, especially at my most usual hangout Quik Trip. I think it is important now in a divided country to greet every one the way Debbie would. I know I am not close to Debbie in smile or laughter, but I concentrated hard during breakfast and I am going to try to Ninja steal her personality and her smile. Of course, she won't lose any of her power, she is Debbie.
Another moment of Grace in my life. So I think it was 1998, and I was getting in my car outside of Humphrey's and on the other side of the street (the great side--the Cold Beer, No Flies side) Debbie was doing the same... or maybe she was just walking down the street. I know exactly where she was, she greeted me with a laugh and a smile. She knew she was HKIA at this time, and I asked her how the Happiest Kid in America was. She laughed and told me that she was going to spend a year as a Jesuit Volunteer in the JVC. Of course she would. For those of you who don't know the JVC's live in community and work with people on the margins in different cities.
They locate themselves "with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.”
I think Debbie was probably getting $50 a month at that time for her service. It really is a wonderful step into adulthood. This is what community looks like.
Anyway back to Spring and Laclede, I asked Debbie when that started and she said "August." I said great that means you can work for me at Aim High for six week this summer. I have hired about 35 people in my life, and Debbie was the best person I have ever hired. And just like the Biloxi girls a decade later, she exceeded my very high expectations. Aim High was a six week Academic Enrichment program for students in the Maplewood and St. Louis City school districts. We had classes, and sports, and activities and all kinds of stuff. Debbie was my assistant and was constantly making me a better director and a better person for all of the middle schoolers. Debbie also had the ability to reach out and hug the crying kid or just listen to the students some time and encourage them to stay in school and be the best version of themselves. John Duvall was a high school student at the time. He knew what Debbie brought to the program. She did a great job of making the high school volunteers do their best and encouraged them also. It helped that a very cute college graduate was encouraging high school boys, but she did much more than that. I remember the last day when we had put the students on the school buses and some of our volunteers realized that Debbie would be unable to come back next year. I think one of them said, "How is this ever gonna work." We all needed Debbie. I often drove my car around campus to get to places quicker during the day. One of Debbie's task was just letting me know where my car was. She always knew, I almost never did.
Debbie's oldest is 13, which means I will have to keep going to Biloxi until she is 16 or 17, because I would love to see what her daughter would do to help those that need a smile, or watch her listen to the homeless as they tell their stories. I am expecting that the apple does not fall very fall from the tree. Biloxi 2022 I am counting down the days.
So I started teaching at Nerinx when Debbie was a sophomore. At the same time, I was coaching St. Dominic Savio in a CYC high school league. So Holly, Mary Kay, Berta, Michele, Gina, Colleen, and Julie were on my team we played against St. Michael's and Debbie was playing on that team. Every time she saw me she laughed out loud. The ball went out of bounds and she got close to me and laughed. That was when I nicknamed her the Happiest Kid In America. She has kind of always been that to me. Now I know she has had her own struggles and her own obstacles, but she still greets many people in her life with a smile or a laugh. That is selfless. Selfless. Knowing that things are not always perfect, but you present yourselves to others with a sweetness and a smile, so their day will be okay or maybe just a little bit better.
I try to smile at everyone I see, especially at my most usual hangout Quik Trip. I think it is important now in a divided country to greet every one the way Debbie would. I know I am not close to Debbie in smile or laughter, but I concentrated hard during breakfast and I am going to try to Ninja steal her personality and her smile. Of course, she won't lose any of her power, she is Debbie.
Another moment of Grace in my life. So I think it was 1998, and I was getting in my car outside of Humphrey's and on the other side of the street (the great side--the Cold Beer, No Flies side) Debbie was doing the same... or maybe she was just walking down the street. I know exactly where she was, she greeted me with a laugh and a smile. She knew she was HKIA at this time, and I asked her how the Happiest Kid in America was. She laughed and told me that she was going to spend a year as a Jesuit Volunteer in the JVC. Of course she would. For those of you who don't know the JVC's live in community and work with people on the margins in different cities.
They locate themselves "with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.”
I think Debbie was probably getting $50 a month at that time for her service. It really is a wonderful step into adulthood. This is what community looks like.
Anyway back to Spring and Laclede, I asked Debbie when that started and she said "August." I said great that means you can work for me at Aim High for six week this summer. I have hired about 35 people in my life, and Debbie was the best person I have ever hired. And just like the Biloxi girls a decade later, she exceeded my very high expectations. Aim High was a six week Academic Enrichment program for students in the Maplewood and St. Louis City school districts. We had classes, and sports, and activities and all kinds of stuff. Debbie was my assistant and was constantly making me a better director and a better person for all of the middle schoolers. Debbie also had the ability to reach out and hug the crying kid or just listen to the students some time and encourage them to stay in school and be the best version of themselves. John Duvall was a high school student at the time. He knew what Debbie brought to the program. She did a great job of making the high school volunteers do their best and encouraged them also. It helped that a very cute college graduate was encouraging high school boys, but she did much more than that. I remember the last day when we had put the students on the school buses and some of our volunteers realized that Debbie would be unable to come back next year. I think one of them said, "How is this ever gonna work." We all needed Debbie. I often drove my car around campus to get to places quicker during the day. One of Debbie's task was just letting me know where my car was. She always knew, I almost never did.
Debbie's oldest is 13, which means I will have to keep going to Biloxi until she is 16 or 17, because I would love to see what her daughter would do to help those that need a smile, or watch her listen to the homeless as they tell their stories. I am expecting that the apple does not fall very fall from the tree. Biloxi 2022 I am counting down the days.
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Breakfast 55 -- Mom
Breakfast 55, the MOTHER of all breakfasts. I remember the Loyola boys always arguing that their mother was better than another student's mother. Well quite simply, they would have lost. At my advanced age, I present my mother Jane Francis Furrer Magee as the GREATEST of all-time.
Today would start the way most of Jane's days have started -- with Mass. My mother has started most of her days with Catholic Mass. Recently this past year, when one priest decided that his way was correct and all others had to toe the line, I actually did the Math for my mom. She went to Mass at St. Dominic Savio over 18,000 times. It really is incredible. Right now I feel pretty accomplished, that I have bought someone breakfast 55 straight days. I worked hard to do this, I worked hard to make this happen, sometimes putting others first to make breakfast happen. Somewhere in the 1970s, my mom had a year where she would have gone to Mass 200 straight days with maybe in the same year a streak of over 80 and over 60. No matter what her commitment was that day: God was first and her family a very close behind second. But that is kind of unfair, because she spent the entire Mass praying for our family and many others.
We turned right onto Watson, "Clear on the left, Clear on the Right" my mom still tells me how to drive and cannot help herself from joining in. We drove under the Frisco bridge and the conversation stopped. I knew what she was doing, every single time she passes Resurrection cemetery (we lived literally right across the street most of her adult life), she starts praying for her own list of dead. My cousin Rick who died this month has to find a place on this list. If you ask her, she will tell you exactly where he fits in. It is the same list every day, until sadly she adds another. She adds a name on purpose in an exact spot, so tomorrow she will remember. There is an order to her prayers and she does not miss anyone. The most special name on her list will always be her grandson, who died the day he was born. He is buried in Resurrection. She includes her parents, her brother and sister, a young boy from the parish who died way too young, at times the list even included an actress from Days of Our Lives I think. I feel like I almost should not be in the car as this moment of my mom praying is too Holy, too perfect, too reverential. Somewhere on Mackenzie, we have made the turn (still driving along Resurrection Cemetery) and she starts talking again, I know her prayers are over for now.
To be safe on her journey to her new Church, Seven Holy Founders, my mom drives right by St. Dominic Savio. Now tragically empty leaving its loyal parishioners to scatter into the wind, never really get a chance to share, to wave, to say goodbye. This is NOT what community looks like. I sometimes defend the Catholic Church to people. It is very hard to defend the action of one stubborn priest. Now that he has his vision in a new combined parish, he might just see that it is nothing like he envisioned, it is broken, tragically broken and parishioners of both parishes are not happy. The diaspora of St. Dominic Savio parishioners wander the churches of south county never again having their own homeland.
We carefully walk into church from the parking lot, my mom holds onto my hand for balance for the short journey. It is nice. In 1965, she held my hand as she walked me into St. Dominic Savio 1st grade. I was unsure of each step and I held onto her hand to make sure I would not fall. Each step was an adventure, up Holyoke, down Navajoe, up Pebble Hill to the parking lot and then across the parking lot and up the steps. This probably only happened once as the next day it was my sister's Mary's job. Wow, today we have video of everything, I would love to see video of that day.
We entered into Seven Holy Founders, and my mom pointed out a man I did not know. That is Wayne Nolan, she said, a member of the diaspora. Quickly my mind races, I think of my Ugandan friends in America and how they clung to each other for strength. I think of the refugees on the borders and just when they needed their mother for strength. We separated them. We separated them. I want to hold my mother's hand even harder, and she has already began her preMass prayers. A very organized way to get more prayers into this time than just the Mass. Making the ordinary--extraordinary.. That is my mother -- Jane Magee. But I think about it now as I write these words, I am even angrier over the family separations, then I have ever been. Maybe holding hands with my mother makes me realize how truly cruel this punishment is.
My mom greets total strangers with such ease and comfort. It is amazing, because she is sometimes fearful about our world and our city, but she will greet total strangers with a wave and a smile. I know years ago, when she went to Dierberg's her response to "Paper or Plastic?" was "My son is teaching math in Uganda." Now all these people are her friends. On Saturday, I had to hug the Cake Lady Teresa, because of course Teresa is praying for me, so is the Deli Lady, and the checkout lady, and the receptionist at the Podiatrist. She connects quickly to all these people. This IS what community looks like.
Last night, my parents erased episode 3 of Yellowstone. I was short and unforgiving to my father when he explained what had happened. Why? Why? I drove to Wehner Park in Shrewsbury and walked across the soccer field. Both of my parents were not in their chairs, this is unusual. I grabbed an iPad, google the question, and soon had Episode 3 on the Paramount app, I then chromecasted it to their TV. This was regular TV, but soon I watching Boobs, with my mother, still a strange experience. Usually you have to be careful when you rent a British DVD. I still remember telling my mom and dad that Hear My Song was a great movie. Somehow, I totally forgot the full frontal nudity in like the VERY FIRST SCENE. Sorry for the diversion, Boobs still do that to me. The selfless act of getting their TV show for my parents was not me. It was Jane. I sometimes realize that when I do something so completely selfless, it is really just my mother inside of me. WWJMD. And hear is the thing, it only takes a few minutes. Literally, often less than 5 minutes to help another human being. My effort on all of this TV problem was maybe 12 minutes, and I was not doing anything else anyway.
My mother is 86 and she refuses to slow down. Her entire life is for her husband and her kids and her grandkids and of course for Ollie, the first great grand kid. She is completely happy and lost in her service for others. It is not really about Jane. I think she taught herself to like chicken legs, because every bucket of Chicken for 40 years she took the piece that no one wanted. And I have not even told you about her "giving things up". My niece had a peanut allergy attack as an infant/toddler. My mom loves chocolate, so she did not have one piece of chocolate until Nora's first communion. Like seven years with no chocolate. Extraordinary for some people, ordinary for my mother. I remember once, when I was unemployed I asked her if she wanted an ice cream drumstick. She made some excuse, but I knew right then she had given it up until I found a job. She went to the store bought a pack of 12 drumsticks knowing she would not have one of them. I made her promise before I gave her my latest health diagnosis, that she could only give up something for 2 weeks. Rwotcamo is the Ugandan expression for the "Chief eats last" meaning only after everybody was fed, did the Chief eat. I have adopted that as my mantra in big groups and also in Biloxi. There is a some selfishness in it, as I know I can then grab as much as I want. My mom has lived Rwotcamo in everything she does her entire life.
I just saved this piece, because I realize I am going to keep writing. You may want to take a break and come back.
"You have to have a sense of whimsy, John" are some of the best words my mom has shared with me. And she says this several times a year. To me, it means to have the courage to be weird, to have the courage to be your own self. Let your freak flag fly. I hope that I have passed this through to my students. I know Frank Hellwig revs up my whimsy. I know Kate Sellenriek charges up my whimsy. I know my niece Kelly shakes her head but always laughs at my whimsy. Of course, my mother would embroider the nicknames of hundreds of Biloxi girls onto bandanas. I cannot tell you how many times I have walked in the front door of her house with a weird idea. Sometimes she does not even understand my idea, but 5 minutes later she is helping me or in the case of the bandanas doing it all herself. She supports my whimsy more than any other. My mother was right next to me (of course, on her dining room table) when I made my duct tape sport coat. My dad just sat in his chair shaking his head, who are these two weirdos.
My mother was my Den Mother is Cub Scouts, I think my brother was in that den but I cannot remember. For a Christmas meeting with all of the parents, each den had to sing a Christmas Carol. That was too simple for my mother, so she made us practice and taught us one in French. "Il est nay, le divine enfant, joo a see bow, a see la musetta." Those words are still in my head.
Il est ne, le divin Enfant,
Jouez, hautbois, resonnez, musettes;
Il est ne, le divin Enfant;
Chantons tous son avenement!
(we never knew how to spell them, we just learned the words)
A bunch of nine year olds sang it flawlessly. In my mom's den there was a young man named Mark who had some emotional and behavioral problems. He was harmless, but acted out and was just really his own spirit. This was before 1970 and there were not as many resources for kids like Mark. I remember Mark stealing the afternoon newspapers from every lawn on Holyoke on his way from school to my mom's house for a den meeting. My mom saw this and fixed the problem, I do not remember how she fixed it, but she did. Mark was usually off task from the rest of us and my mom always steered him back in such a kind and loving way. He might have been an outcast or a weirdo in another group, my mom made sure Mark was one of us.
It was simple--she just loved him every minute she was with him.
I am crying now, tears are streaming down my cheek. I stop to catch my breath.
Could it be that every single thing I have given to my students, every act of kindness was because years ago my mom loved Mark?
Yesterday, I had lunch with two of my favorites, Holly and Michele. I know they will read this. So for them and all mothers, just remember every act of kindness, every act of selflessness, every act of compassion ripples through the pond. Years from now your children will walk your same steps effortlessly, because they saw your stride. Hayley and Shelby your kindness, your steps are because you saw your dad take those bow-legged steps your entire life. I know you follow the steps of your mother also. Molly Milford how can you not be kind after you saw the example of Tim and Rita. I can literally write a hundred examples here, and if I write this tomorrow, it might be different with other loving parents I have seen.
I was prepared to write more, but in the end we can do no better than loving each other. I am thinking the way my mom loved Mark is the cornerstone of this entry. We need to love the people in our lives especially the ones who may need our love just a little bit more.
In my 30s, I found out that there was school that you could go to become a film maker. I did not know these schools existed when I was 18. I think deep down we all want to be film makers and tell our own story. I do not have the song for the end of this movie yet, but it is sung by an angel, (maybe if I think about it, I will add it later).
The camera catches the back of us, as my mother and I walk to church this morning. As I help her step up onto the sidewalk from the parking lot, the film dissolves into her walking me up the steps of St. Dominic Savio, I am wearing a suit. We bought it from Sears! A young boy named Mark is there and she greets him with a smile and a hug. He laughs. Then as she lets go of my hand, she sees an 8 year old girl... maybe from Guatemala, my mom is herself again. The camera catches the back of an 86 years old taking each step slow, she says softly to the young girl, "It will be okay, let's go find your mother." They continue to talk and the young girl turns to my mom and smiles.
Today would start the way most of Jane's days have started -- with Mass. My mother has started most of her days with Catholic Mass. Recently this past year, when one priest decided that his way was correct and all others had to toe the line, I actually did the Math for my mom. She went to Mass at St. Dominic Savio over 18,000 times. It really is incredible. Right now I feel pretty accomplished, that I have bought someone breakfast 55 straight days. I worked hard to do this, I worked hard to make this happen, sometimes putting others first to make breakfast happen. Somewhere in the 1970s, my mom had a year where she would have gone to Mass 200 straight days with maybe in the same year a streak of over 80 and over 60. No matter what her commitment was that day: God was first and her family a very close behind second. But that is kind of unfair, because she spent the entire Mass praying for our family and many others.
We turned right onto Watson, "Clear on the left, Clear on the Right" my mom still tells me how to drive and cannot help herself from joining in. We drove under the Frisco bridge and the conversation stopped. I knew what she was doing, every single time she passes Resurrection cemetery (we lived literally right across the street most of her adult life), she starts praying for her own list of dead. My cousin Rick who died this month has to find a place on this list. If you ask her, she will tell you exactly where he fits in. It is the same list every day, until sadly she adds another. She adds a name on purpose in an exact spot, so tomorrow she will remember. There is an order to her prayers and she does not miss anyone. The most special name on her list will always be her grandson, who died the day he was born. He is buried in Resurrection. She includes her parents, her brother and sister, a young boy from the parish who died way too young, at times the list even included an actress from Days of Our Lives I think. I feel like I almost should not be in the car as this moment of my mom praying is too Holy, too perfect, too reverential. Somewhere on Mackenzie, we have made the turn (still driving along Resurrection Cemetery) and she starts talking again, I know her prayers are over for now.
To be safe on her journey to her new Church, Seven Holy Founders, my mom drives right by St. Dominic Savio. Now tragically empty leaving its loyal parishioners to scatter into the wind, never really get a chance to share, to wave, to say goodbye. This is NOT what community looks like. I sometimes defend the Catholic Church to people. It is very hard to defend the action of one stubborn priest. Now that he has his vision in a new combined parish, he might just see that it is nothing like he envisioned, it is broken, tragically broken and parishioners of both parishes are not happy. The diaspora of St. Dominic Savio parishioners wander the churches of south county never again having their own homeland.
We carefully walk into church from the parking lot, my mom holds onto my hand for balance for the short journey. It is nice. In 1965, she held my hand as she walked me into St. Dominic Savio 1st grade. I was unsure of each step and I held onto her hand to make sure I would not fall. Each step was an adventure, up Holyoke, down Navajoe, up Pebble Hill to the parking lot and then across the parking lot and up the steps. This probably only happened once as the next day it was my sister's Mary's job. Wow, today we have video of everything, I would love to see video of that day.
We entered into Seven Holy Founders, and my mom pointed out a man I did not know. That is Wayne Nolan, she said, a member of the diaspora. Quickly my mind races, I think of my Ugandan friends in America and how they clung to each other for strength. I think of the refugees on the borders and just when they needed their mother for strength. We separated them. We separated them. I want to hold my mother's hand even harder, and she has already began her preMass prayers. A very organized way to get more prayers into this time than just the Mass. Making the ordinary--extraordinary.. That is my mother -- Jane Magee. But I think about it now as I write these words, I am even angrier over the family separations, then I have ever been. Maybe holding hands with my mother makes me realize how truly cruel this punishment is.
My mom greets total strangers with such ease and comfort. It is amazing, because she is sometimes fearful about our world and our city, but she will greet total strangers with a wave and a smile. I know years ago, when she went to Dierberg's her response to "Paper or Plastic?" was "My son is teaching math in Uganda." Now all these people are her friends. On Saturday, I had to hug the Cake Lady Teresa, because of course Teresa is praying for me, so is the Deli Lady, and the checkout lady, and the receptionist at the Podiatrist. She connects quickly to all these people. This IS what community looks like.
Last night, my parents erased episode 3 of Yellowstone. I was short and unforgiving to my father when he explained what had happened. Why? Why? I drove to Wehner Park in Shrewsbury and walked across the soccer field. Both of my parents were not in their chairs, this is unusual. I grabbed an iPad, google the question, and soon had Episode 3 on the Paramount app, I then chromecasted it to their TV. This was regular TV, but soon I watching Boobs, with my mother, still a strange experience. Usually you have to be careful when you rent a British DVD. I still remember telling my mom and dad that Hear My Song was a great movie. Somehow, I totally forgot the full frontal nudity in like the VERY FIRST SCENE. Sorry for the diversion, Boobs still do that to me. The selfless act of getting their TV show for my parents was not me. It was Jane. I sometimes realize that when I do something so completely selfless, it is really just my mother inside of me. WWJMD. And hear is the thing, it only takes a few minutes. Literally, often less than 5 minutes to help another human being. My effort on all of this TV problem was maybe 12 minutes, and I was not doing anything else anyway.
My mother is 86 and she refuses to slow down. Her entire life is for her husband and her kids and her grandkids and of course for Ollie, the first great grand kid. She is completely happy and lost in her service for others. It is not really about Jane. I think she taught herself to like chicken legs, because every bucket of Chicken for 40 years she took the piece that no one wanted. And I have not even told you about her "giving things up". My niece had a peanut allergy attack as an infant/toddler. My mom loves chocolate, so she did not have one piece of chocolate until Nora's first communion. Like seven years with no chocolate. Extraordinary for some people, ordinary for my mother. I remember once, when I was unemployed I asked her if she wanted an ice cream drumstick. She made some excuse, but I knew right then she had given it up until I found a job. She went to the store bought a pack of 12 drumsticks knowing she would not have one of them. I made her promise before I gave her my latest health diagnosis, that she could only give up something for 2 weeks. Rwotcamo is the Ugandan expression for the "Chief eats last" meaning only after everybody was fed, did the Chief eat. I have adopted that as my mantra in big groups and also in Biloxi. There is a some selfishness in it, as I know I can then grab as much as I want. My mom has lived Rwotcamo in everything she does her entire life.
I just saved this piece, because I realize I am going to keep writing. You may want to take a break and come back.
"You have to have a sense of whimsy, John" are some of the best words my mom has shared with me. And she says this several times a year. To me, it means to have the courage to be weird, to have the courage to be your own self. Let your freak flag fly. I hope that I have passed this through to my students. I know Frank Hellwig revs up my whimsy. I know Kate Sellenriek charges up my whimsy. I know my niece Kelly shakes her head but always laughs at my whimsy. Of course, my mother would embroider the nicknames of hundreds of Biloxi girls onto bandanas. I cannot tell you how many times I have walked in the front door of her house with a weird idea. Sometimes she does not even understand my idea, but 5 minutes later she is helping me or in the case of the bandanas doing it all herself. She supports my whimsy more than any other. My mother was right next to me (of course, on her dining room table) when I made my duct tape sport coat. My dad just sat in his chair shaking his head, who are these two weirdos.
My mother was my Den Mother is Cub Scouts, I think my brother was in that den but I cannot remember. For a Christmas meeting with all of the parents, each den had to sing a Christmas Carol. That was too simple for my mother, so she made us practice and taught us one in French. "Il est nay, le divine enfant, joo a see bow, a see la musetta." Those words are still in my head.
Il est ne, le divin Enfant,
Jouez, hautbois, resonnez, musettes;
Il est ne, le divin Enfant;
Chantons tous son avenement!
(we never knew how to spell them, we just learned the words)
A bunch of nine year olds sang it flawlessly. In my mom's den there was a young man named Mark who had some emotional and behavioral problems. He was harmless, but acted out and was just really his own spirit. This was before 1970 and there were not as many resources for kids like Mark. I remember Mark stealing the afternoon newspapers from every lawn on Holyoke on his way from school to my mom's house for a den meeting. My mom saw this and fixed the problem, I do not remember how she fixed it, but she did. Mark was usually off task from the rest of us and my mom always steered him back in such a kind and loving way. He might have been an outcast or a weirdo in another group, my mom made sure Mark was one of us.
It was simple--she just loved him every minute she was with him.
I am crying now, tears are streaming down my cheek. I stop to catch my breath.
Could it be that every single thing I have given to my students, every act of kindness was because years ago my mom loved Mark?
Yesterday, I had lunch with two of my favorites, Holly and Michele. I know they will read this. So for them and all mothers, just remember every act of kindness, every act of selflessness, every act of compassion ripples through the pond. Years from now your children will walk your same steps effortlessly, because they saw your stride. Hayley and Shelby your kindness, your steps are because you saw your dad take those bow-legged steps your entire life. I know you follow the steps of your mother also. Molly Milford how can you not be kind after you saw the example of Tim and Rita. I can literally write a hundred examples here, and if I write this tomorrow, it might be different with other loving parents I have seen.
I was prepared to write more, but in the end we can do no better than loving each other. I am thinking the way my mom loved Mark is the cornerstone of this entry. We need to love the people in our lives especially the ones who may need our love just a little bit more.
In my 30s, I found out that there was school that you could go to become a film maker. I did not know these schools existed when I was 18. I think deep down we all want to be film makers and tell our own story. I do not have the song for the end of this movie yet, but it is sung by an angel, (maybe if I think about it, I will add it later).
The camera catches the back of us, as my mother and I walk to church this morning. As I help her step up onto the sidewalk from the parking lot, the film dissolves into her walking me up the steps of St. Dominic Savio, I am wearing a suit. We bought it from Sears! A young boy named Mark is there and she greets him with a smile and a hug. He laughs. Then as she lets go of my hand, she sees an 8 year old girl... maybe from Guatemala, my mom is herself again. The camera catches the back of an 86 years old taking each step slow, she says softly to the young girl, "It will be okay, let's go find your mother." They continue to talk and the young girl turns to my mom and smiles.
Monday, July 16, 2018
Breakfast 54 -- Michele and Holly
Holly has a daughter Lucy, who is in 4th grade or entering 4th grade. Either way it is now a complete generation since I met Holly Dame. Excuse me, H. T. G. Holly used to make little kids on her street call her Holly the Great. That is the kid I met so many years ago. My sister Katie and I had replied to an announcement in the bulletin that they needed coaches for grade school basketball teams. We called a phone number, because that is what you did then, a man, Ken Sloan?? told us he would get back to us. When the dust settled, I think they found some dads, but there was only one team left, a girls' combined 3rd and 4th grade team. Katie looked at me with support and said sorry because she knew I wanted to coach older boys (who knew how my life would change) and for a moment I was going to let her coach the team by herself. Then I said, let's just do it together.
The girls played in the Epiphany league and it really was designed to be a starter league, but all the games were Friday night. So we practiced once a week and had a game every friday. This was the 1980s and the gym was always full of parents of about 5 or 6 teams. There were extra 10 years olds that just seemed to run around and slide on their jeans between stoppages in play ( I am still convinced it was cheaper than babysitting, just dump your kids at the gym for a couple of hours and then pick them up later). Oh and it had one more ingredient, cold beer was served liberally and cheaply throughout the entire night. Parents of the 6 p.m. games did not go home right away, that ordered a couple of more beers and watched the games of total strangers. The game scores were like 12-10 and every basket was a big event to the raucous crowd.
Holly was the star guard on that team. We coached Holly all the way until the 12th grade. For some reason, several of these girls should have played high school ball, but those were the days when 60 freshmen would try out for basketball and let's just say good kids were missed. Because of that introduction, I decided I was enjoying my evenings more than my day time job as an engineer and ended up at Nerinx as a sub when Holly and Michele were sophomores.
I drive Holly crazy, and she makes me laugh. It has been that way when she was 11 and surprise, surprise had a little bit of sass to her. And it is also this way all of these years later. Holly after she graduated from college, came and was one of our teachers at Aim High that summer. I knew I wanted to hire her, because she was my friend and I am always loyal to my students. I had no idea the care, prMIeparation, and professionalism she would bring to that job. I am so happy I got to see Holly be a teacher that summer. I know now when she talks about her kids and their games and their school that she is putting her best passion and care into what she is doing as a mother.
There are now just a few moments every time Holly and I meet where we talk serious like adults and check in on one another. We both always say we are okay, because we are. And then, back to the teasing and the taunting and all those conversations that give us joy. We have compiled a whole book full of stories that will make either of us laugh. Beavis and Butthead had an episode where the xeroxed nickels and tried to pass them off as money. Every time the clerk said it was just paper and no good, Beavis would slip him another paper nickel and say, "maybe this'll change your mind." Pure stupid humor, but I have said that so many times to Holly she would be rich if she would have kept my money.
Katie and I laugh because we are still good friends with about 3 girls on that first team. Katie got the nice one, Maureen and I got the two obnoxious ones, Holly and Mary Kay. I love the obnoxious ones, btw MK is not really obnoxious, but pleasantly goofy and was the perfect foil to HTG.
Somewhere in the middle of Holly's high school years, Michele started coming around. A sweet, smiling kid with a quiet demeanor. Holly set me straight later, "Michele is not that nice." It is funny how things evolved, but Holly found a guy and I got Michele and Leane and Sarah and we traveled together, told the same bad jokes, and went to an awful lot of Cardinal games or outdoor festivals or concerts. MIchele is flat out funny, but also tells jokes that you would not expect out of her. A classic misdirection so to speak, the nice girl told THAT joke.
Eventually our girls on our coed softball team all started having families and we were always in desparate need for more women. Then Holly and Michele and Mary Kay and Sarah and Leanne became the Dancing Moose lineup. Holly was the pitcher, she was a good athlete, but spent most of the game heckling the batters and the other team. Big strong boys did not know what to do when they were heckled by the small loudmouth pitcher. We became successful and won the title a couple of times. That is because we had St. Dominic Savio people and we only had to beat St. Gabriel people.
Michele went to seek her fortune in the big city of Chicago and has not really ever come back to St. Louis. She married and went to San Francisco and now lives in Philadelphia with two of her own children. I have to disagree with Holly and I think Michele is that nice, and she is currently devoting her time to her two little ones. It is such a joy to see her when she returns to St. Louis, and we all have work to do, because there is a fifty-fifty chance her kids might end up as Royals fans. So keep the prayers coming.
I could tell you all kinds of stories about these two, but when we tell them to each other we skip a lot of details. Simply because we know the stories. We could just sit around kind of like we did today and say Taco Bell, we are on the 5, and Potato. That would be enough. I have seen Holly laugh so hard she had to hold onto something so she would not fall. I do not know when this started, but at weddings, Paddy O's after a ball game, or any large crowd; Michele would act like she pulled a Hacky Sack out of her purse. We would then do tricks with our invisible Hacky Sack, including swallowing it and spitting out, and spins and all kind of things. People actually thought we had a HackySack. Holly hated when we did this and would "catch" the HackySack and "throw" it as far as she could. I would then usually run after it, often crawling under tables to get it, and apologizing to people as I retrieved it.
Michele always greets me with a warm and loud, "Johnny." One of my favorite greetings. Holly usually just smirks and gives me a half laugh, she acts like she is always annoyed to see me. I love it.
Old friends, they mean much more to me than the new friends,
Cause they can see where you are,
and they know where you've been. Harry Chapin.
The girls played in the Epiphany league and it really was designed to be a starter league, but all the games were Friday night. So we practiced once a week and had a game every friday. This was the 1980s and the gym was always full of parents of about 5 or 6 teams. There were extra 10 years olds that just seemed to run around and slide on their jeans between stoppages in play ( I am still convinced it was cheaper than babysitting, just dump your kids at the gym for a couple of hours and then pick them up later). Oh and it had one more ingredient, cold beer was served liberally and cheaply throughout the entire night. Parents of the 6 p.m. games did not go home right away, that ordered a couple of more beers and watched the games of total strangers. The game scores were like 12-10 and every basket was a big event to the raucous crowd.
Holly was the star guard on that team. We coached Holly all the way until the 12th grade. For some reason, several of these girls should have played high school ball, but those were the days when 60 freshmen would try out for basketball and let's just say good kids were missed. Because of that introduction, I decided I was enjoying my evenings more than my day time job as an engineer and ended up at Nerinx as a sub when Holly and Michele were sophomores.
I drive Holly crazy, and she makes me laugh. It has been that way when she was 11 and surprise, surprise had a little bit of sass to her. And it is also this way all of these years later. Holly after she graduated from college, came and was one of our teachers at Aim High that summer. I knew I wanted to hire her, because she was my friend and I am always loyal to my students. I had no idea the care, prMIeparation, and professionalism she would bring to that job. I am so happy I got to see Holly be a teacher that summer. I know now when she talks about her kids and their games and their school that she is putting her best passion and care into what she is doing as a mother.
There are now just a few moments every time Holly and I meet where we talk serious like adults and check in on one another. We both always say we are okay, because we are. And then, back to the teasing and the taunting and all those conversations that give us joy. We have compiled a whole book full of stories that will make either of us laugh. Beavis and Butthead had an episode where the xeroxed nickels and tried to pass them off as money. Every time the clerk said it was just paper and no good, Beavis would slip him another paper nickel and say, "maybe this'll change your mind." Pure stupid humor, but I have said that so many times to Holly she would be rich if she would have kept my money.
Katie and I laugh because we are still good friends with about 3 girls on that first team. Katie got the nice one, Maureen and I got the two obnoxious ones, Holly and Mary Kay. I love the obnoxious ones, btw MK is not really obnoxious, but pleasantly goofy and was the perfect foil to HTG.
Somewhere in the middle of Holly's high school years, Michele started coming around. A sweet, smiling kid with a quiet demeanor. Holly set me straight later, "Michele is not that nice." It is funny how things evolved, but Holly found a guy and I got Michele and Leane and Sarah and we traveled together, told the same bad jokes, and went to an awful lot of Cardinal games or outdoor festivals or concerts. MIchele is flat out funny, but also tells jokes that you would not expect out of her. A classic misdirection so to speak, the nice girl told THAT joke.
Eventually our girls on our coed softball team all started having families and we were always in desparate need for more women. Then Holly and Michele and Mary Kay and Sarah and Leanne became the Dancing Moose lineup. Holly was the pitcher, she was a good athlete, but spent most of the game heckling the batters and the other team. Big strong boys did not know what to do when they were heckled by the small loudmouth pitcher. We became successful and won the title a couple of times. That is because we had St. Dominic Savio people and we only had to beat St. Gabriel people.
Michele went to seek her fortune in the big city of Chicago and has not really ever come back to St. Louis. She married and went to San Francisco and now lives in Philadelphia with two of her own children. I have to disagree with Holly and I think Michele is that nice, and she is currently devoting her time to her two little ones. It is such a joy to see her when she returns to St. Louis, and we all have work to do, because there is a fifty-fifty chance her kids might end up as Royals fans. So keep the prayers coming.
I could tell you all kinds of stories about these two, but when we tell them to each other we skip a lot of details. Simply because we know the stories. We could just sit around kind of like we did today and say Taco Bell, we are on the 5, and Potato. That would be enough. I have seen Holly laugh so hard she had to hold onto something so she would not fall. I do not know when this started, but at weddings, Paddy O's after a ball game, or any large crowd; Michele would act like she pulled a Hacky Sack out of her purse. We would then do tricks with our invisible Hacky Sack, including swallowing it and spitting out, and spins and all kind of things. People actually thought we had a HackySack. Holly hated when we did this and would "catch" the HackySack and "throw" it as far as she could. I would then usually run after it, often crawling under tables to get it, and apologizing to people as I retrieved it.
Michele always greets me with a warm and loud, "Johnny." One of my favorite greetings. Holly usually just smirks and gives me a half laugh, she acts like she is always annoyed to see me. I love it.
Old friends, they mean much more to me than the new friends,
Cause they can see where you are,
and they know where you've been. Harry Chapin.
Holly's dad turned 75 several years ago. Because it was Holly's dad and Holly we got the idea to tee pee his house. So I tee peed a house when I was over 40, and I am really glad about that feat. I am also happy when Bill Dame enjoyed it the next day as much as we did doing. This is what community looks like. Now both of them are just trying their best to be great moms for their children. I know they will be. And I hope someday 10 years or 15 years from now, I get a text from one of their children asking me to Tee Pee Holly's House (it is funnier than Michele's House).
I already have the paper bought.
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