All It Takes Is A Little Love

Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived an enchanted life. She had a beautiful mother whose smile lit up the family home all day long. Her father was a handsome man who read stories and poems to her and told her that she was capable of doing anything that she wanted to do. Sadly like so many fairy tales real life interceded and took her father away, leaving her family struggling to stay adrift but hers was a hero’s journey filled with brave and caring souls who seemed to arrive to save her and her family on cue. Along the way she learned how to be an optimistic warrior much like her mother had to become.

The little girl knew what she needed to do because her father had already tutored her before he left this earth. She watched the courage of her mother who never seemed to lose her bright outlook on life no matter how dire situations became. And so the little girl grew into a woman and met a handsome prince who was kind and loving so much like her father. She married him and the two of them began a beautiful life together but as all stories go even with true love times can become difficult and so it was with them. Luckily the young woman knew what to do, how to navigate the difficult times. She had watched and learned from her mother and was able to navigate through the roughest of seas, including a time when her charming prince became so ill that is seemed that he might die young just as her father had done. 

Good fortune was on her side. She cared for her two small children while doctors performed miracles on the prince. Soon he was well even as he had grown thin and pale during his illness. The family carried on surrounded by loving friends who encouraged them to move forward into the future. And so it was that time seemed to go by so quickly as the young couple grew into their middle ages with two beautiful daughters who had also learned the lessons of the challenges and delights of life. 

The prince was a modern man who encouraged the woman to seek more knowledge and to use her skills to be successful both inside and outside of the home. As she soared he never once felt a need to pull her back into the confines of an imagined role or to suggest that she was somehow breaking the rules of a good marriage. He was proud of her accomplishments and so too was his mother who had often longed to expand the dimensions of her own life. And so the woman whose father had told her to reach for the sky did just as he had instructed her and life was so good. 

The woman’s story has been a saga just as is true for anyone who has ever lived. She has encountered heroes and villains and found herself in battles for life and truth and all that make life wonderful. Time and again good has conquered over evil just as the fairytales foretold that it would be. She had learned that happy outcomes did not come from magic but from the hard work of millions of people of goodwill. She saw that the stories that her father told her were written in the long ago to show children how to have good faith in the kindness of the vast majority of humans. Those stories were parables about how to push forward and be resilient even in a world that feels ugly and unfair. 

The woman had learned that we do indeed have fairy godmothers and godfathers, people who come into our lives at the very moment when all seems lost. They are the kind souls who nurse and nurture us, shield us from harm, encourage us to keep moving forward. She saw that humans have pushed forward by being forced backward from the beginning of time. She was no different from any of the characters who had provided images that showed her how to overcome the monsters who seem to invade every person’s life. 

The woman had learned patience and unrelenting kindness from her mother. She understood that it was not silly to be happy even when there did not seem to be any reason to be so. Her mother had shown her that the sun always shows up again, the hard times that challenge us only help us to grow in strength and adaptability. So the woman found ways to keep calm and carry on even when it felt foolish to do so. 

Now the woman and her prince are old. Their daughters are middle aged. Their grandchildren are creating their own stories. The woman hopes that they have learned the secrets to a good life just as she had from her mother and father. Times are tough in the moment. Life seems to be littered with problems. Some days are more difficult than others but the sun keeps rising even when it rains. Hard work and goodness have never gone out of style in the long reach of history. The stories have new characters but the themes rarely change. Good will triumph over evil even in the worst of situations. Patience and unrelenting goodness are never out of fashion even when it seems to be so.

The kings are in their counting houses hoarding their gold. The people are struggling and dreaming of better days. The old woman and the aging prince have faith that this too will pass as long as we don’t all give up on honor and loyalty and love. The story continues. 

I joke with my dentist that I hate snakes and dentists. My phobia has nothing to do with his skill. He has never hurt me like one of my previous dentists did. He has a gentle touch that I greatly appreciate. What I really hate is the fact that I have never had dental insurance and every dime I have ever spent at the dentist came from my own funds. I seriously do not understand why teeth and eyes are not considered part of our bodies when it comes to medical insurance. I mean who thought of those things as somehow being different?

I’ve been seeing dentists since I was a toddler. The first one who kept my teeth in good shape worked with only children but he was quite brutal with me. For some reason I had lots of cavities even though I rarely had sugary treats and my mother insisted on keeping my oral hygiene at the forefront of my daily routines. In spite of her efforts to keep me cavity free I seemed to require one filling after another with great regularity. 

My mom did not realize that the dentist would yell at me during the examinations. I was too quiet and shy to say anything about his abusive behavior but I learned to dread visiting him in a way that has followed me into my adult life. It was not until he went after me when I brought my rosary into the examination room that I was able to be freed from his anger. I was only praying that the event would not be as painful as it always was and for some reason the dentist became belligerent at the very idea that I thought I needed divine intervention. He called my mother into the room and demanded to know what was going on. The entire episode showed Mama that he was definitely not the person who should be taking care of children. She removed me immediately and never again took me back. 

The next dentists I had were all quite good, patient and mostly pain free. Sadly the trauma of my youth never left me. Surprisingly I did not seem to have as many cavities with the new guys. I pretty much went through life with good bills of dental health until it was time to take out my wisdom teeth, an act that terrified me and should not have. The dentist I had at the time had a magical touch. The teeth were out before I even knew he was getting started. Unfortunately one of the four that I had was twisted around a nerve and so it has never been taken out lest I end up with damage that would leave my mouth eternally numb. 

That wisdom tooth has been the source of cavities, root canals and eventually a major need for an implant. That procedure was months long because I needed a bone graft before the implant would be successfully placed. All along the way the dentists who have worked with me have been incredibly professional and understanding of my fears. I have never once been hurt by any of them but my dread of dental work stays firm. Perhaps it is the cost of the procedures that fills me with horror for I have never had dental insurance. Tens of thousands of dollars have been invested in my teeth when buying promising stocks would have been a better way of using my funds. Sadly I had no choice but to keep my mouth healthy. 

What has never been adequately explained to me is why my teeth as well as my eyes are not covered by regular health insurance. Surely they are part of my physical body and whatever happens to them will have an effect on my general health. It has been clearly documented that dental health or lack of it is closely related to heart troubles. It makes no sense to have these two aspects of my anatomy classified as nonentities when it comes to health insurance. Who came up with that idea and why haven’t we as citizens raised the roof about the unfairness of this strange kind of thinking?

I had a dear German friend who would go back to Bremen each year to have all of his dental needs provided. He laughingly noted that getting such services for free paid the cost of his flight. He not only did not understand why Americans had separate insurance for teeth and eyes but he was totally confused as to why we did not have universal health insurance for everyone. He found it quite interesting that we seemed to be so adverse to the idea of a national health insurance program. 

The truth is that American healthcare is really upside down and inside out. Doctors’ offices are filled with elderly people on Medicare and some poor people on Medicaid but the average working person who is purchasing health insurance can only afford to see a doctor for the most serious reasons. As a senior citizen I can see my gastroenterologist for twenty dollars. If I need an endoscopy or colonoscopy the total bill will be way less than one hundred dollars. Sadly my grandson who is experiencing some concerning health issues will have to pay six thousand dollars for his tests even after his health insurance pays its portion. This bill does not even include the fees that he will ultimately have to pay to the anesthesiologist.

Why do we Americans hold on tightly to a system that seems to be so unfair? The cost of health insurance is skyrocketing and in many cases people can’t afford to use it until symptoms become frightening. We pay extra for our eyes and for our teeth and see that as being natural when citizens in other advanced nations are enjoying the health perks that my German friend used with regularity. Perhaps it is long past time to repair our system that doesn’t always make sense instead of staying with the old ways out of fear that trying new ideas will be even worse. Surely there is a better fairer way for all. None of us should hate dentists and snakes simply because dental work is so expensive.  

“I’m tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. I’m tired of never having me a buddy to be with to tell me where we’s going to, coming from, or why. Mostly, I’m tired of people being ugly to each other. I’m tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world…every day. There’s too much of it. It’s like pieces of glass in my head…all the time. Can you understand? …”  Stephen King, The Green Mile

Stephen King is masterful at putting words together in such a way that we can viscerally feel them. Right now I find this quote from The Green Mile speaking to how I feel on some days. I too am tired of people being ugly to each other. It is contrary to who I am as a person and yet it seems to have become so pervasive in our society of the moment. The most horrific peddler of ugliness is our President of the United States who enjoys insulting people over and over again, most especially women and people who have the temerity to disagree with him. 

I am so tired. I have enjoyed a good life and for most of my days on this earth I found ways to be optimistic even during the most trying times. I seriously had no idea that there was an underbelly of pain in the world so horrible that it would one day reveal itself in the poisonous taunts of a man whose job should be to help us live together, listen to one another, and find mutually created ways to insure that all Americans enjoy the fruits of our democracy. Instead I watch the horror of the undoing of our common decency and willingness to work together while seeing the growth of the hatefulness that no longer festers in the dark. 

I recently returned from a sojourn in Maine, the home of Stephen King. I was enlivened there in the beauty that seemed to to surround me. I stayed in a little cabin with the windows open both day and night so that breezes swept across my face. I heard the wind whispering through the pines and listened to the everyday voices of people staying nearby. I had a bed, a two burner stove, a small refrigerator, a bathroom and a heater to chase away the cold at night. I realized that it was all that I really needed to feel comfortable and happy and I began to wonder why we humans seem to require more and more luxury to feel the joy that I realized in that tiny place that took me back to the basics of what we humans need. It made me realize that all of us may a be a bit too selfish in terms of sharing our good fortune. 

I thought of how that small cabin might become a haven for someone who is homeless. I realized that most of us only need a tiny bit of the riches that we have to feel safe and secure and satisfied and yet we fight over the idea of contributing for the welfare of all. We want to keep as much of our wealth as possible even as it becomes more and more apparent as we grow old that we cannot take any of it with us. 

I stood on a rocky shoreline not far from that cabin and witnessed the glory of nature as a strong wind from the ocean blew across my face. I thought of the thousands of years that those rocks had been weathered by forces that carved and changed them. I wondered about the people who had once stood where I was in the long ago. I somehow believed that what they wanted from life was probably not that different than my own desires. Somehow as our lives became easier than ever before in history we seem to have become too focused on artificial ways of being happy, methods for medicating our feelings with things. We party in extravagance while somewhere in the world there is great poverty and suffering and we only shrug at the suggestion that maybe we might spend less on frivolities and more on lifting others out of the horrific situations that seem to be drowning them. 

I suppose that I am a far too serious person. I lost the innocence of my childhood when I was eight and my father died. I felt the yoke of responsibility descend over me. I became more and more aware of how the people around me were feeling. I was able to channel my old soul into the profession of teaching where I shared my hopes and beliefs that everyone has the right to a safe and secure life. 

I felt good in that little cabin in Maine. I thought of Stephen King while I was there and understood how that place has always provided inspiration for him. Life was slow enough and simple enough to rest and clear my head. It is only in returning to the hubbub inflicted on the world day in and day out by a wealthy bully who somehow became the leader of our nation that I grow weary again. I witness his ugliness and how it inspires an underbelly of our society to be just as cruel and and I feel that glass in my head. I too am tired of the pain. Can you understand?

I am and always will be a teacher. I found so much joy in my profession even on the very worst of days. Ultimately my students were foremost in my mind. Of course I wanted them to be proficient in mathematics but more than that I wanted them to know how deeply I cared about them and their futures. I think of them to this very day and while I may not instantly recall every single name I see their faces yearning for understanding and someone to really care about them. 

Teaching was more than just a job for me. it was a vocation and along the way I was my own worst critic. I analyzed every lesson that I presented and determined what seemed to work and what fell short. Along the way I improved my craft always with the humanity of my students as the forefront of how I worked with them. 

Eventually I became a Dean of Faculty. I witnessed teachers who were captivating and some who struggled to understand the needs of their students. Mostly I saw genuinely dedicated individuals who gave their hearts and their souls to the young people who sat before them. Only those who have experienced the world of teaching will ever fully understand how truly caring most teachers are. The students become their extended family that grows and grows the more years that they partake in the joy of spreading knowledge. With my own lifetime of being a teacher and Mama B to thousands of students a short documentary on YouTube caught my eye. It is called The Last Class which features Robert Reich teaching his last semester of Public Policy at UC Berkeley.

While I initially believed that the film would feature the ideas of Robert Reich it soon became apparent that it was more of a tribute to his time as a teacher and the philosophies of education that defined his style of inspiring young men and women to think. Rather that expecting them to regurgitate facts Reich challenged them to study and understand how to define their own beliefs. His was a class in truly critical thinking about how and why each of us view the world. 

More than anything the film emphasized the joy that teaching brought to Robert Reich and his students over the course of forty years at many different universities. For Professor Reich teaching was as much a part of his being as breathing and even though he will no longer be formally in that business, he knows that he must continue spreading information and insights for the rest of his life. Teachers retire from the day to day presence in a certain classroom but not from the vocation that seems to almost define them. 

I greatly enjoyed the film and hung on Reich’s every word about his profession and his students. It was as though he was speaking for me in a way of understanding what it means to teach that those who have never stood before a group of students will never fully understand. My emotions rose to the surface as he expressed his love for his students and spoke of the difficulty in actually hanging up his hat and officially retiring. I too have felt those same feelings and as of this moment have been unable to fully refrain from working with young students. 

From the time that I worked my last day in a school until this moment I have tutored and worked with homeschooled children. Over time my responsibilities and energy forced me to cut down the number of hours each week that I reserved for the young people who were in a sense my last students. Now in the coming year I will be down to three youngsters and maybe a couple of students who need tutoring. Part of me wants to recruit new students and part of me knows that as I move toward my eighties I am not as hardy as I once was and I tire more easily. Nonetheless being with students invigorates me like no other activity. 

I began my career in the long ago with a rather challenging schedule. I look back and wonder if I gave the best of myself to my first students. I was experimenting with them and they were lovely enough to go along with me. Over time I became better and better but still had the sense that I might have done even more. I think of the students whose hearts I touched and those that I fear I did not reach. I love them all, even the ones who tested my patience. 

I remember one particular moment when one of my favorite students was discovered to be the thief of computers and possessions of other students. As he confessed he broke down in tears and asked if I hated him for his crimes. I told him that I only hated what he had done but would always love him and hope that he had learned enough to turn his life around. I felt that way about every young person who ever sat looking at me as I tried to help them make sense of mathematics and the world around them. They were my children and all I ever wished for them is that they develop the ability to navigate life with critical thinking and a way of using knowledge for the betterment of the world. 

I agree with Robert Reich that teaching is a noble profession and one that burrows into our hearts such that we never really give it up. It is a truism that only those who can, teach! 

I’ve always enjoyed working outside far more than doing the chores inside the house. When I was just a child my mother gave me and my brothers regular duties to perform to keep our household in good working order. My brothers had to take out the trash and keep the lawn mowed. My jobs included washing the dishes by hand (we did not have a dishwasher) and helping with the housekeeping chores. My mother taught me early on how to clean a toilet that would pass the white glove test. Somehow whenever I was on bathroom duty I felt a sense of envy that my brothers were outside in the open air taking care of the lawn. It never occurred to me that they were pushing a mower with no engine so that their labor must have been exhausting. I just wanted to be outside rather than being relegated to traditional female chores. 

Once I had my own home I literally volunteered to take care of lawn duties. I had a much better lawn mower than my brothers had pushed around and I reveled in being outside. For many years I joined the neighborhood men in Sunday afternoon trimming and edging and weeding. I supposed that my love of such work came from my farming ancestors and my desire to keep my yard looking tip top from week to week. 

Eventually I grew older and less energetic so that the joy of giving the lawn a haircut week after week waned to a point that made me dream of cleaning toilets once again. When my trusty lawnmower lost its mojo as well I decided that it was time to hire someone to do the job that had entertained me with joy for so many years. 

I often found flyers from individuals offering to take over on the outdoor duties so it was not difficult o find someone to do the job that I had done for so many years. Soon a man named Mario was faithfully beautifying my yard in less than a tenth of the time it had always taken me to complete the task. Amazingly not only was Mario fast but his efforts were far more impressive than mine. Thus I never again considered the idea of purchasing a lawnmower or suggesting that my husband might want to join the other men of the neighborhood in the weekly drill. 

Eventually we moved to a new neighborhood and Mario felt that it was too far away from his territory so I had to find a replacement quickly. A friend from work who lived in the same area had glowing praise for a man named Jose and so I forged new relationship with a very talented man. 

Jose has kept our lawn looking wonderful week after week since January of 2005. He is reliable and incredibly talented in his work. Whether we are in town or not I know that Jose will trim our lawn so well that I will never receive an angry letter from the HOA. He has had different sidekicks over the years and teamwork makes the job so fast that it is unimaginable. Over time other neighbors in the cul de sac have employed Jose and now he also takes care of my father-in-law’s property. 

I listen for the sound of his arrival each Saturday morning and smile when I hear him buzzing away with his string trimmer. He is as masterful as an artistic sculptor with that tool. He can weed a flowerbed in under five minutes and when he plants new shrubs or flowers for us they thrive. He feels like a member of the family even though we exchange few words. He keeps his head down and works quickly because he has many homes to visit and has to keep going before the sun goes down. 

As my husband and I have grown older many of the chores related to our yard have become too much for us. We used to mulch our flower beds but now Jose completes that task. We move our potted plants from the patio to the garage each fall to keep them safe during freezes. This year we surrendered that task to Jose. A job that took us hours only lasted about fifteen minutes with Jose. When spring came he brought the same plants back outside in record time and placed them exactly where they needed to be. 

Jose has been reliable and honest and superb in his work. Not once has he asked for a raise. I had to think of doing increasing his wages when prices began to rise. He never complains about any request we make no matter how strange and unrelated to yard maintenance it might be. If we need to move a heavy object upstairs he comes to the rescue. He even volunteers to hang and take down Christmas lights for a very small price. 

It is important to note that Jose has a regular job during the week. He fits in yard work during times when he is not busy at his main source of income. Based on what I know it is probable that he works seven days a week and sometimes does extra jobs on weekdays when the sun stays out until late at night. 

I would never underestimate the value of a man like Jose. He is exemplary in his work and I frankly can’t imagine not having him in our lives. I try to convey my appreciation of him but I’m not sure that I have been successful enough in showering him with enough well deserved praise to do that job. 

I hear so many derogatory comments about people who do hard laboring jobs like Jose. Some folks make ugly comments about people like him, insinuating or even saying outlaid that they need to go back to whatever country from which they came. I know that Jose is an American citizen but I suspect that his dark skin and thick accent leave him prey to pejoratives that he should never have to endure. He is a valued person and a good American who daily demonstrates the very traits that we all attempt to instill in our children. He is a treasure not just to me but to the many people for whom he so diligently works week after week, year after year. He is an exemplar for al that is good and I just hope that he understands how greatly we appreciate him.