Month: October 2022

Several years ago my daughter and grandchildren were visiting my home during their summer vacation. We saw the sights around town during the day and usually settled in to watch a movie in the evening. I noticed a film that I knew nothing about called Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. It is a movie based on the true story of a famous dog in Japan named Hachika who was so loyal to his master that even after the man had suddenly died, the pup waited for him each afternoon at the train station just as he always had. Hachika continued his loyal watch for nine years and in the process became a celebrity of sorts in Japan. The movie transfers the story to the United States but the theme of the pup’s undying commitment to his human companion is the same. 

I’ve always been fascinated by tales of determination to reach a destination or accomplish a skill or a certain task. I have the highest regard for people who refuse to give up even when failure seems inevitable. Literature is replete with heroes like Ulysses who kept their eyes on goals of one kind or another. Whether fictional or factual the individual who creates a goal and sticks with it regardless of obstacles is a source of great inspiration to me. 

I suppose that I might be considered to be a bit of a romantic when it comes to life, not so much in the sense of finding a true love, but it the belief that each of us is capable of accomplishing great things if we are steadfast in our willingness to keep trying even in the face of failure and disappointment. Sometimes the most remarkable people are the ones who initially appeared to be fools for believing that they might achieve something that seemed beyond their grasp.

In the world of education we call this kind of determination “grit.” I’ve seen that grit is one of the best indicators of future success. The young man who struggles with mathematics but works tirelessly to finally understand may not have the most natural talent, but he has something even better. He is a person who will hit a wall and then find a way around it. This is someone who will ultimately succeed while others are simply accepting what they see as their fate. 

I was often the last person to turn in my tests. It made me question my intelligence because my brain seemed to work so much more slowly than others. Sometimes my fellow students would even groan a bit as they had to silently wait for me to finish my work. I had to learn to ignore not just the implied pressure being place on me, but also my internal doubts about myself. I took my time and allowed my mind to work at its own unique pace. I always did well, but the lingering thought was that somehow I just was not as bright as the people around me. It took me years of growing in confidence and studying how humans learn to realize that I was not less than, just different. 

As a society we have a tendency to rank almost every aspect of life. We like to quantify everything from intelligence to happiness. In doing so we forget that numbers really cannot define an individual. While swiftness is critical for a race, it should not be a metric for determining the value or rank of a person. What does it rally matter if someone is able to learn how to simplify radicals in ten minutes or ten days as long as each person ultimately understands the concept? Some of my very best students, who are now also the most successful adults among their peers, were the ones who chose to come to every one of my tutoring sessions because they had been unable to master concepts during the confines of a single lesson. 

One such student became the valedictorian of her class. Graduated with high honors from college and slowly but surely worked to earn a PhD. I still remember other teachers commenting that she wasn’t the brightest person in the class but was simply someone who worked hard. Somehow they made her deliberate determination sound like something bad. Instead it was an early indicator that she is a person who is willing to push herself no matter how difficult the going may become. Isn’t that how we should actually be urging everyone to be? Having a willingness to work hard to accomplish something is the most noble of goals. Our loyalty to excellence should demand that each of us pushes ourselves just a bit more and then a bit more with everything that we attempt to do. 

I see the faces of students who overcame bonafide learning difficulties, poverty and even abuse by never becoming complacent. Some of them may have taken years to earn college degrees but they never gave up. Then when they found jobs their willingness to work harder than anyone else just as they had always done became a valued trait. They spent so much time learning that they never stopped and eventually even in a world of ranking, they emerged at the top. 

When we see the child who struggles in the beginning, but refuses to simply cease the effort, we need to commend him/her. In fact, that person is demonstrating exactly the kind of grit that makes leaders, inventors, creators. Watch for them in your midst and treasure them, for they are the ones on whom our future depends.  

I suppose that each of us has fantasized about winning the lottery or learning that we have a long lost relative that we never knew about who left us a fortune in his will. Like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof we wonder if it would ruin some vast eternal plan if we were to suddenly become wealthy. We imagine being recognized with monetary gifts for our musical talent or the book that we wrote. We get excited thinking that our hard work and great ideas might launch us into the world of the rich and famous. Who hasn’t thought about what they would do with a grand windfall?

I certainly have dreamed of such things a time or two. I’ve thought about how I might dispense my fortune and how wonderful it would feel not to worry about the bottom line of my finances. Then I realize that even the richest of the rich have to be careful with their spending and sometimes they even become so obsessed with wealth that it becomes the daily driving force of their lives. They carefully watch the stock market and stew over their investments. They have a lifestyle and image to maintain and that in itself is all consuming. Like Ebenezer Scrooge they seem almost greedy in the protection of their fortunes. In truth it sometimes almost seems that there is never really enough money for anyone. 

There is a restaurant in a little town that my husband and I often visit that offers a meal that they call “Just Enough.” It’s an apt description because it is not too little or too much. Instead it is just right. I feel that about my own financial situation. I can’t be profligate with the funds that I have, but they generally prove to be adequate for taking me through the day to day demands of living with just enough to cover emergencies. Most of the world’s population is not nearly as fortunate as I am. In fact, the vast majority of people live on the edge of financial disaster. It does not take much to leave them homeless. They probably dream of living like me. I am the rich person in their minds. I try to remind myself of that often.

I recently went to a gathering of friends and we discussed many things over lunch. One of the members of our party is from another country and he noted without judgement of any of us that we Americans do not fully appreciate the lives that we have. He feels that we take our good fortune for granted and are often unsatisfied. He said that from the outside looking in it is difficult to understand why we are not the happiest people on the planet. 

His comments made me think of the old fairytale of the fisherman who led a subsistence life. His home was tiny and rundown, but he and his wife were actually quite happy. He went fishing each morning and enjoyed the ocean breezes and the freedom of working outdoors. His work gave him just enough money to have a home and food to eat, but luxuries were out of the question. 

One day the fisherman caught a magical fish who promised to fulfill any wish of the man if only he agreed to throw the poor creature back into the water. After asking that he and his wife get a nicer home with a bit more money to enjoy a few extras, the fisherman let the fish go. When he returned home he found a beautiful little house with his wife smiling in a new frock. 

It was a wonderful surprise, but the joy did not last as his wife berated the fisherman for not asking for more. She urged him to keep fishing until he had caught the magic creature once again, and so he did. Time after time the fisherman rejoiced when the fish appeared on his hook and time after time he made a new deal to free the creature if he would increase the man’s power and riches. Somehow it was never enough to satisfy the greed that overtook his household. He and his wife were consumed with thoughts of palaces and treasures that they might have if only they asked. Covetousness stole their joy. When it became apparent that the man and his wife would never be satisfied the magical fish took everything away and returned them to the state in which they had originally lived. 

I always thought of that magical fish as the symbol of a spiritual leader who wanted to help the fisherman. In the end his lesson for the man was that riches do not bring us the satisfaction that we seek unless we first know what is really important. The man and his wife forgot about the joy they felt with each other in their simple life. They mistakenly equated materialism with comfort and contentment. They lost the ability to appreciate the world around them without all the trappings of wealth.  

I suppose that I learned the art of being happy with whatever I have from my mother. I do indeed work to earn extra funds for my frivolous fun, but I long ago quit dreaming of being wealthy or being envious of those who have more than I do. In fact, I understand that there are obligations that come with being rich. Those people living in mansions are scrutinized more than I am. Their lives are often ruled by unspoken rules that do not apply to me. I don’t think I would want to walk in their shoes. 

I find it amazing that my mother who had so little in material riches, was one of the happiest, most content people that I have ever known. She always managed to deal with unexpected emergencies by sacrificing and using her ingenuity. She found joy in people and nature, not things. Relationships were what mattered to her and in that regard she was one of the wealthiest people in the world. Her status was measured in her generosity and compassion. People still remember her as someone who shared her wealth of kindness. Perhaps that is the kind of goal that we should all be desirous of achieving. Money is not magic, but love is.

My doctor recently told me that I was the youngest looking and acting senior patient that he has. Of course I smiled at that description, but inside my heart skipped a beat because I still don’t think of myself as being old. The visage I see in the mirror seems out of sync with who I am and how I feel. Nonetheless it has become a regular feature of my life to learn of yet another person in my age group who has died. I’ve been to more funerals and memorials in the past three months than I usually attend in a year. The fact is that I am getting older and I never know when it will be my turn to take my last breath. From the standpoint of probability there is a kind of certainty that it will happen sometime in the next twenty-five years.

Many of the deaths of friends and family members have reminded me that the end of life often comes suddenly and unexpectedly. There is no assurance that I still have many years ahead despite my continued energy and enthusiasm for living. If I were wise I would begin to prepare for what may lie ahead instead of leaving things to chance and the good will of my surviving family members. The death of a loved one is difficult enough without having to plan the final goodbyes, and I have done little to let my family know my wishes. 

I suppose that I put off such things because I don’t do death well  and I don’t like to talk about it. I tend to pretend that all is well when the reality is that I would prefer to avoid grief even as I know that it is unrealistic for me to think that such inaction is healthy for me or the people around me. I would do better to prepare for my eventual demise beyond having a will so that my children need only use my directions to complete the final celebration of the circle of my life. 

I always remember my mother struggling to find a plot in which to bury my father and then planning his funeral. She was in no frame of mind for such things and yet it fell to her. When she died it was much easier for me and my brothers because she had already made her wishes known, even in what kind of flowers she wished to adorn her casket. We knew the songs that she liked for the funeral and she already had a gravesite next to our father. We were able to grieve more than conduct business. We also knew without questions what had been most important to her in her life, so writing an obituary that adequately described her legacy was not difficult. 

I have avoided doing those things or having discussions with my family. I have not told them who I want them to contact if I die. I have many friends that they do not know. I need to provide them with list of people who have been integral to my life. I want my daughters to know that there are aspects of who I am that are incredibly important to me. Obviously my immediate family is at the center of my universe, but my brothers and their wives and children are also at the heart of who I am. I have cousins that I love like sisters and brothers. I have longtime and recent friends. There are students who were like my children. 

I treasure the learning that I received at Mt Carmel High School and the University of Houston. I am incredibly proud of my teaching and all of the schools where I worked. I even served for a time as the Director of Education at one of my churches. I come alive when I write. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I also use it at times as a vehicle for the causes that are important to me. I am an advocate for justice, the environment, education, democracy, refugees and those who struggle to defend themselves. I sometimes get into trouble for voicing my views, but it is something that I feel compelled to do. 

I suppose that one’s legacy in life is not so much what they want it to be, but what others think it should be. It’s possible that when people consider my life they may not see what I have accomplished in the same way that I do. They may think me a fool to espouse some of the beliefs that I have. They may wonder why I did not better use my talents or leave more of a financial nest egg behind. I understand that I have often marched to a drumbeat that is different than many individuals, making it difficult for them to comprehend why I have lived the way I have. 

I mostly hope that everyone understands how much they have meant to me. There is nothing more important to me than people, and not just those that I know. I have tried to project my feelings, but I know that there have been times when my fervor has been totally misunderstood. I also know that I have lost patience or come across as unkind even as I was attempting to be compassionate. I suppose that this is the fate of all humans. No matter how hard we try, we will not please everyone. 

I tend to believe that everyone leaves a remarkable legacy in one way or another. Mine is about average in the grand scheme of things, but all I can really say is that I tried with all of my heart to be kind and to love. If even a few of the people I have encounter understood this, then I have led a successful life and perhaps I have enough years left that more good things are yet to come. 

The children now love luxury; they have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders…So it was that Socrates complained about the youth of his era. It’s a commonplace reaction to the younger generation that seems to echo throughout history. As a Baby Boomer I clearly remember how my generation was regarded as hippies, ungrateful and spoiled brats. The fact of the matter is that history is replete with examples of the older generation blaming youth for many of society’s problems. 

It’s nothing new to hear that young folk are “know it alls” who have yet to experience life enough to form a valid opinion about how things should be. Older folk boast about the good old days when we walked five miles uphill in snow to get to school. They seem to forget the days when they too were approaching adulthood with risky behaviors and lots of experimentation. In fact, few people in the United States realize how very young many of our Founding Fathers actually were. James Monroe was only eighteen when he joined the revolutionary cause. Aaron Burr, Nathan Hale and Alexander Hamilton were only twenty-one. James Madison was twenty-five. Fighting for independence was in reality a young man’s cause. So many of those with major influence on our Constitution make today’s icon of youthful political thought, Alexandria Ocasio Cortez, appear to be an older woman. 

The hue and cry about the younger generation is as vocal these days as ever. I hear people constantly voicing concerns about their work ethic, their lack of critical thinking skills and their propensity for addiction to video games, social media and drugs. While there are some youth who very much struggle to demonstrate maturity or at least an attempt to grow wise, the truth is that they are the exception rather than the rule. The vast majority of teens and young people in their twenties and thirties are not only hardworking but they are also filled with the kind of wonderful ideas that transform the world for the better. They earnestly look at life with vision and optimism that sometimes has been beaten down in older people who grow weary and simply want to return to times that are more familiar to them. The young see possibilities and are willing to try new ideas and ways of thinking while their more conservative elders sometimes cynically insist there is no hope unless we return to days gone by. 

Perhaps the best approach is to trust one another without the constant tension between old and new that permeates history. Our young are actually working quite hard to be prepared for their future. As someone who has spent a lifetime in education I am acutely aware of how advanced the process of learning has become. Today’s students are tackling topics in high school that were once reserved for college. The negative tropes about our schools and the students inside of them are very wrong because we only hear about the minority of bad situations rather than the day to day incredible work that is happening all across America. 

Young men like David Hogg, who became a political spokesperson after the shooting, at Parkland High School in Florida, are reminiscent of those impulsive youngsters of 1776 who were willing to literally risk their lives to create a new nation free from the constraints of a tyrannical king. They were no doubt roundly criticized by the one third of the colonial population that had no desire to revolt and the other third that remained silent out of fear. They were a minority that was not always appreciated by the more mature folk who preferred the imperfect status quo to political experiments. 

I suppose that there will always be a tension between the young and the old, the risk takers and the conservatives. It is the way we humans tend to be. I suspect that we become more cautious as we age because we no longer have the emotional or physical energy to keep changing. We become set in our routines and when we see our young agitating for new ways of living we become uncomfortable. We begin to look backward instead of forward because the past is more familiarly comfortable than the uncertainty of the future. We fall into outmoded regimens even as we sense that there probably is a better way of doing things. We just don’t want to try those things anymore. 

Most of the great inventions have come from young men and women. Many of the finest works of art and thought are the products of young minds. They challenge the status quo and ask us to consider that there may be better ways of doing things. Much of the world in which we now live is the product of ideas that came from young people who envisioned hope and change. Those kinds of things should not be so frightening to those of us who have settled into the comfort of our later years. We would do well to respect our young people the same way we ask them to respect us.

I actually have the highest regard for young people today. I do not see them in the negative way in which they are all too often depicted. Most of them are working hard in an uncertain world that may leave them with a future riddled with problems. They are already considering solutions and appealing to their elders to help them make the changes we need to survive. Instead of wasting air space with complaints about how they do not measure up to the way we imagine ourselves to have once been, maybe it’s time to actually consider that they are our hope for a future that they are more than willing to tackle no matter how difficult it may be. Let’s trust them for a change.

I remember being frightened to enter an elevator when I was a child. I held on tightly to my mother’s hand as I jumped over what seemed to be a massive gap between the main building and the tiny enclosure that moved up and down. I suppose that I thought that I might fall through that tiny opening in the floor and fall to my death. I was also concerned that the doors might suddenly close and crush me if I were still in the way. 

My mother always assured me that there were mechanisms designed to make elevators as safe as can be. When years later a man literally got crushed by elevator doors that unexpectedly shut on his body I wondered what other things my mother had told me had actually been a bit inaccurate. Hearing the constant admonition to “mind the gap” when exiting elevators in London also made me realize that I may not have been so silly at all with my childhood anxiety about that little space that always seemed larger than if actually was. 

One thing that never really concerned me was the idea of being trapped in an elevator. I simply assumed that the little box would move up and down as planned, but indeed there have been occasions when people found themselves stuck between floors when the power in a building suddenly went out. Since I tend to become anxious in closed spaces I don’t think I would do well if such an occasion were to arise. I suppose that I would rather use stairs or escalators when possible to make certain that I will never find myself in a situation that would no doubt cause my heart to beat a bit too fast. On the whole I need to have a way to escape on my own power rather than relying on an electric mechanism that keeps things operating as they should. 

If such an event did indeed occur I suppose that I would have to breathe deeply and attempt to divert my thoughts for however long I was trapped. Even though I would generally prefer to be alone with my fears, this would be one occasion when companionship with other humans would actually be helpful, but not too many. If I were squeezed into a tiny space I’m afraid that I would freak out and hyperventilate. Having enough room to move around and maybe even sit down for a time would make it at least a tiny bit bearable. 

I suppose when I think of such possibilities of entrapment my mind drifts to thoughts of slaves packed in the bottom of a ship, chained up as though they were property rather than humans. I imagine those cattle cars on trains filled with souls headed to concentration camps. I associate tight spaces with cruelty and hatred.

We humans have some very bad tendencies to rank other people as though some types are superior and other are inferior. I’m not sure what causes us to do such things, but it is fact that has happened for centuries. It’s why the Israelites were enslaved by the Egyptians and people are trafficked for profit even in modern times. I sometimes wonder if my aversion to being confined comes from my empathy with those who have been degraded, trapped and confined by other human beings throughout the course of history. 

It has always been difficult for me to understand why people ever thought it was proper to steal land from people native to a certain region or to classify persons of a certain description as being inferior and yet it is a fact of history that these things have happened over and over again. Even my Slovakian immigrant grandparents and their children were taunted and ridiculed as being dirty and somehow subpar to the people around whom they lived only because they were from a certain part of the Europe that was thought to be inferior. I think of my grandparents traveling across the ocean in search of freedom in the tightly packed steerage of a ship only to be unwelcomed when they arrived. I feel suffocated by the mere thought of what they patiently endured without complaint just to earn a place in America. 

So if I were trapped inside an elevator I would hope that I would be able to get control of my claustrophobia and be calm and pleasant with whoever was in the situation with me. I’d want to work together to free ourselves from the confinement and maybe make a joke about our situation or tell each other stories about who we are and why we happen to be in the same place at the same time. It would be the only way that I would be able to endure my fate without overreacting and thinking about what imprisonment of any kind must be like. I’d remind myself that people before me have endured far worse. 

The odds that I will ever find myself stranded inside an elevator are slim to none so it’s unlikely that my courage will be tested inside such an enclosed area. I’m more likely to come unglued in a closely packed moving crowd. Mosh pits and I will never come together, nor will I put myself in the middle of hundreds of people moving together at the end of an event. Thankfully I have total control over the situations in which I place myself unlike refugees so desperate to flee from oppressive governments that they will squeeze into the back of a windowless van to die from heat and suffocation. Still I wonder why some humans are still so cruel. Surely history has taught us to be better.