Last year my children were unhappy because they had very little money to buy me a present. I told them that it wasn't about the material things but rather I would appreciate them making something for me. It could be a collage of pictures, a letter to me, a poem, a song, a drawing, or any creative endeavor.
Christmas morning came around, and both of my teenagers had envelopes to hand me. My daughter had made a collage of funny pictures of herself, and on the top of the pictures she wrote, "I wouldn't be me without you! I love you mom!" and it was fantastic. It was exactly the kind of thing I wanted.
My son had decided to write me a letter. As I began to read it, I got all misty-eyed, and by the middle of the letter, I was sobbing. He wrote about the day when I lost my job, and how scared he was. He didn't know what would happen, but then he saw that while I, too, was shaken by the experience, I never gave up my faith that somehow it would be OK. And of course, I was right. I found a terrific job, then another parttime work from home job, and within 2 years I was actually able to buy our very first house.
When he said that I was the hardest working person he knew and how proud he was of me, I was so surprised. I am always praising my children, encouraging and supporting their efforts, and rarely do I expect any similar treatment from them. But this meant the world to me, and was the best Christmas gift I ever received.
What was your most surprising gift? You can participate in a contest at:
http://www.twittermoms.com/forum/topics/what-was-the-most-surprising
Also, be sure to check out all the great holiday decorations and craft supplies at Target, my very favorite store.
http://www.target.com
javascript" language="javascript" src="http://www24a.glam.com/appdir/getscript.jsp?view=profile&iid=14009&aid=104510405">
Be sure to let me know about your most surprising gift!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Holly Near
I admit it. I never had heard of Holly Near until 5 years ago. People who sang in the same women's choir with me talked about her as if she were a rock star. Who?
Why do we kill people who are killing people
To show that killing people is wrong?
What a foolish notion, that war is called devotion
When the greatest warriors
Are the ones who stand for peace
Then I sang her songs. They are the songs that sink into the very marrow of your bones. The words she writes are so real, so true, so powerful, that you cannot help but remember them as you go on with your life. The melodies of the songs she writes are easy, folksy, uplifting or melancholy. Still don't know her? Let me give you a little background.
I ain't afraid of your Yahweh
I ain't afraid of your Allah
I ain't afraid of your Jesus
I'm afraid of what you do in the name of your God
I ain't afraid of your churches
I ain't afraid of your temples
I ain't afraid of your praying
I'm afraid of what you do in the name of your God
Holly Near was a singer and performer from a young age. She grew up with parents who were passionate about their world and their country. Holly had many musical experiences, including a time in "Hair" on Broadway. When she was in her early 20s, she met some of the most well-known political activists and expressed her own anti-war sentiments through her music.
Send in a thousand grandmothers
They will surely volunteer
With their ancient wisdom flowing
They will lend a loving ear
Not only was she singing for peace, but she also sang for equality. Civil rights, women's rights, and gay and lesbian rights were the themes of so many of her pieces. Holly didn't stop at just standing on hilltops, singing the folk songs she created. She became involved, participating in forums, in conferences, marches and protests for so many of those who needed the brave and strong to stand up for them. She has been doing that for over 35 years.
Imagine my surprise!
I love that I have found you
But I ache all over wanting to know your every dream
Imagine my surprise!
To find that I love you
Feeling warm all over knowing that you've been alive
Yet Holly's voice rings out, in a unique way that lets the listener know she loves to entertain and to sing for you. Her face, her hair, her eyes are mesmerizing. You open your heart a little when Holly walks into a room and begins to sing. You know these songs have meaning.
I am open and I am willing
To be hopeless would seem so strange
It dishonors those who go before us
So lift me up to the light of change
Enough? No? Go, look up her up online. Listen to her music. Buy a CD if you can. But know, above all else, that here is a woman of integrity in a time where lesser women are making strides in changing the world. Fall in love a little bit with a woman you may not know. And then go on with the rest of your day, singing about foolish notions, about 1000 grandmothers, and about how you ain't afraid.
Why do we kill people who are killing people
To show that killing people is wrong?
What a foolish notion, that war is called devotion
When the greatest warriors
Are the ones who stand for peace
Then I sang her songs. They are the songs that sink into the very marrow of your bones. The words she writes are so real, so true, so powerful, that you cannot help but remember them as you go on with your life. The melodies of the songs she writes are easy, folksy, uplifting or melancholy. Still don't know her? Let me give you a little background.
I ain't afraid of your Yahweh
I ain't afraid of your Allah
I ain't afraid of your Jesus
I'm afraid of what you do in the name of your God
I ain't afraid of your churches
I ain't afraid of your temples
I ain't afraid of your praying
I'm afraid of what you do in the name of your God
Holly Near was a singer and performer from a young age. She grew up with parents who were passionate about their world and their country. Holly had many musical experiences, including a time in "Hair" on Broadway. When she was in her early 20s, she met some of the most well-known political activists and expressed her own anti-war sentiments through her music.
Send in a thousand grandmothers
They will surely volunteer
With their ancient wisdom flowing
They will lend a loving ear
Not only was she singing for peace, but she also sang for equality. Civil rights, women's rights, and gay and lesbian rights were the themes of so many of her pieces. Holly didn't stop at just standing on hilltops, singing the folk songs she created. She became involved, participating in forums, in conferences, marches and protests for so many of those who needed the brave and strong to stand up for them. She has been doing that for over 35 years.
Imagine my surprise!
I love that I have found you
But I ache all over wanting to know your every dream
Imagine my surprise!
To find that I love you
Feeling warm all over knowing that you've been alive
Yet Holly's voice rings out, in a unique way that lets the listener know she loves to entertain and to sing for you. Her face, her hair, her eyes are mesmerizing. You open your heart a little when Holly walks into a room and begins to sing. You know these songs have meaning.
I am open and I am willing
To be hopeless would seem so strange
It dishonors those who go before us
So lift me up to the light of change
Enough? No? Go, look up her up online. Listen to her music. Buy a CD if you can. But know, above all else, that here is a woman of integrity in a time where lesser women are making strides in changing the world. Fall in love a little bit with a woman you may not know. And then go on with the rest of your day, singing about foolish notions, about 1000 grandmothers, and about how you ain't afraid.
My German Phone Call
I had just moved to Germany to work as a teacher for the American Department of Defense schools. My language training had been only in Latin, both in high school and in college, so my knowledge of German was very minimal. I decided right away to take a conversational German class so I would be able to communicate, even just a little, with my neighbors and shopkeepers.
I had one or two classes under my belt. I knew how to say, "Ja,"[Yes], "Sprechen Sie Langsamer, Bitte" [Speak slowly, please], "Wir machen eine pause, bitte", [We are taking a break], "Konnen Sie das bitte wiederholen? " [Can you repeat that please?], "Meine name ist Fraulein Piper" [My name is Miss Piper], "Verstehen Sie Das?" [Do you understand me?] and probably a few other words and phrases. (note: my spelling, translation, and grammar are quite likely not correct, but this is the general idea.)
The phone in my new home rang. Excited, I answered, "Hallo?" and a man began speaking rapidly to me in German. I listened to all the words, and finally, I heard the word, "Name." Recognizing this, I said, in German, "My name is Fraulein Piper" (note: Piper is actually pronounced as "Peeper" in German.) The man repeated my name, I said, "Ja, ja, ja, " along with him and we had a good laugh. I have no idea why, but I was pleased that I was conversing! The mostly one-sided conversation continued, peppered with an occasional "Ja, ja, ja" along with polite laughter.
Finally, I just had to slow him down. So, I asked him to "Sprechen Sie Langsamer" and he said something about "Langsamer?" which I responded with more "Ja, ja, ja" answers. He laughed, I laughed, and on he went. Sometimes he would pause, as if waiting for me to say something, and I would say, "Konnen Sie das bitte wiederholn?" Again, he would repeat it, laughing, and I would sputter out my "Ja, ja, ja." Whenever I would say anything, I would ask him if he understood it, in German, and he would also "Ja, ja" me in return.
At one point, I realized that this was getting me nowhere, so I pulled out my last phrase, which was in German that I needed to take a break now. This was met with dead silence, and then in a low voice, he said, "Pause?" and I again told him yes. After another sentence or two, quieter talking, and more pauses from his end, I heard him say in a sentence the word "Schwanz."
I was familiar with this term, as the German vulgarity for "Penis" had also become an American slang term. All of a sudden I stopped listening to his talking and finally realized that what, indeed, I had been a part of was an obscene phone call. In German. And I was telling him my name, asking him to repeat things and speak slower, lots of "Yes, yes, yes" and finally that I needed to take a break.
Embarrassed, I hung up the phone. My friends call me Fraulein Peeper to this day.
I had one or two classes under my belt. I knew how to say, "Ja,"[Yes], "Sprechen Sie Langsamer, Bitte" [Speak slowly, please], "Wir machen eine pause, bitte", [We are taking a break], "Konnen Sie das bitte wiederholen? " [Can you repeat that please?], "Meine name ist Fraulein Piper" [My name is Miss Piper], "Verstehen Sie Das?" [Do you understand me?] and probably a few other words and phrases. (note: my spelling, translation, and grammar are quite likely not correct, but this is the general idea.)
The phone in my new home rang. Excited, I answered, "Hallo?" and a man began speaking rapidly to me in German. I listened to all the words, and finally, I heard the word, "Name." Recognizing this, I said, in German, "My name is Fraulein Piper" (note: Piper is actually pronounced as "Peeper" in German.) The man repeated my name, I said, "Ja, ja, ja, " along with him and we had a good laugh. I have no idea why, but I was pleased that I was conversing! The mostly one-sided conversation continued, peppered with an occasional "Ja, ja, ja" along with polite laughter.
Finally, I just had to slow him down. So, I asked him to "Sprechen Sie Langsamer" and he said something about "Langsamer?" which I responded with more "Ja, ja, ja" answers. He laughed, I laughed, and on he went. Sometimes he would pause, as if waiting for me to say something, and I would say, "Konnen Sie das bitte wiederholn?" Again, he would repeat it, laughing, and I would sputter out my "Ja, ja, ja." Whenever I would say anything, I would ask him if he understood it, in German, and he would also "Ja, ja" me in return.
At one point, I realized that this was getting me nowhere, so I pulled out my last phrase, which was in German that I needed to take a break now. This was met with dead silence, and then in a low voice, he said, "Pause?" and I again told him yes. After another sentence or two, quieter talking, and more pauses from his end, I heard him say in a sentence the word "Schwanz."
I was familiar with this term, as the German vulgarity for "Penis" had also become an American slang term. All of a sudden I stopped listening to his talking and finally realized that what, indeed, I had been a part of was an obscene phone call. In German. And I was telling him my name, asking him to repeat things and speak slower, lots of "Yes, yes, yes" and finally that I needed to take a break.
Embarrassed, I hung up the phone. My friends call me Fraulein Peeper to this day.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Mikey
I wish I would have known him.
As I sat with the grieving family, these were the first words I thought as I looked at Mike's body, so still and quiet in front of me. I felt a connection to him, a "kindred spirit", in what I was able to learn about him, his family, and his too-short life. While I never spoke to him, I left that day feeling like he had changed my life, and I think he would have been happy to know that I felt like that.
Michael Talarek lived his own life. He didn't always follow the rules that so many of us wearily obey, day after day. He did indeed make choices, and sometimes others would wonder what on earth he was thinking when they would learn of his decisions. I think that Mike was OK with the consequences. He was a good guy...someone who had a best friend who knew him very well and joined with him in more than their fair share of laughter. He was a likable fellow, with a crooked grin that was nearly irresistible. He had a big heart, willing to give whatever he could spare to someone he felt needed it more than he did. He was devoted to his large Polish-heritage family, lighting up the room when he entered his parents' home for holidays, celebrations, and dinners. Mikey had a spark that was unexplainable, a sense of "happy go lucky" that made strangers like him when they first met him.
He wouldn't have believed it if he would have been able to sneak in and see all those who showed up to pay their respects at the funeral home where his empty body was placed. He was modest and genuine, not wanting a big fuss. Even this might have been a little more than he would have liked if he could have made the arrangements...a toast to the "joie de vivre" of his 50 years on earth would have suited him just fine, and then a mass exit to watch a game of his beloved White Sox, if they were on TV, sprinkled with some funny jokes and lots of playful teasing.
Mikey would also want his children to know that he lives on in them. The smiles on his face in the pictures where he is holding Danny, Chrissy, and his little grandbaby, Abbey, testifies how much he loved having these wonderful children. After the incredible sorrow passes, he would love to be remembered in stories about some of the good times they all shared together. Sometimes it wasn't easy for him to be a husband or a father, but that didn't mean that it meant any less to him. He had to live his own life, his way, and he expects and wants nothing less for Danny and Chrissy. Have fun, work hard, love large. Remember who you are.
Because Michael lived alone in an apartment before his death, one might believe he was a lonely soul. But Mikey was never lonely. If he needed to be around someone, there were legions of friends nearby who would gladly meet him for a cold one or just to hang out together. His family lived nearby, and he was always welcome back at home. Mike liked a good time, but then, he didn't mind to have moments of peace and solitude where he could just relax. Sometimes details some of us would fret about would be sorted through, and sometimes it was easy to push them to the back of his mind, but that was OK with Mike.
Mike would want all of us to take that spark of life he used to bring into a room, and every now and then, just do something you ordinarily wouldn't do. Play hooky. Give away the money in your wallet. Go to a baseball game on a work day. Flirt a tiny bit with a little old lady. Visit a pet store and smile at the puppies. Send a funny post card to a friend you haven't seen in years. Watch The Three Stooges on a Saturday afternoon. Take a long drive in the country.
I think that we all want to be able to look at our lives and know two things for sure: 1) Did I ever truly love someone in my lifetime? Mikey definitely loved the women in his life, his parents, brother and sisters, his dear friends, and especially, his children, and also, 2) Was I truly loved? It was clearly evident to me, someone who had never met Michael Talarek, that he was indeed, truly loved by so many.
Maybe eternal life means that our memories live on the lives of those we touched, and if that is the case, then Michael Raymond Talarek will live on forever. Those who mourn him have a hole in their lives, and wonder why his life ended too quickly, for indeed, it was not long enough. Maybe it shouldn't be they only had him for 50 years, but rather, that they were blessed with Mikey for 50 years, and how lucky are they to have known him.
I wish I would have.
As I sat with the grieving family, these were the first words I thought as I looked at Mike's body, so still and quiet in front of me. I felt a connection to him, a "kindred spirit", in what I was able to learn about him, his family, and his too-short life. While I never spoke to him, I left that day feeling like he had changed my life, and I think he would have been happy to know that I felt like that.
Michael Talarek lived his own life. He didn't always follow the rules that so many of us wearily obey, day after day. He did indeed make choices, and sometimes others would wonder what on earth he was thinking when they would learn of his decisions. I think that Mike was OK with the consequences. He was a good guy...someone who had a best friend who knew him very well and joined with him in more than their fair share of laughter. He was a likable fellow, with a crooked grin that was nearly irresistible. He had a big heart, willing to give whatever he could spare to someone he felt needed it more than he did. He was devoted to his large Polish-heritage family, lighting up the room when he entered his parents' home for holidays, celebrations, and dinners. Mikey had a spark that was unexplainable, a sense of "happy go lucky" that made strangers like him when they first met him.
He wouldn't have believed it if he would have been able to sneak in and see all those who showed up to pay their respects at the funeral home where his empty body was placed. He was modest and genuine, not wanting a big fuss. Even this might have been a little more than he would have liked if he could have made the arrangements...a toast to the "joie de vivre" of his 50 years on earth would have suited him just fine, and then a mass exit to watch a game of his beloved White Sox, if they were on TV, sprinkled with some funny jokes and lots of playful teasing.
Mikey would also want his children to know that he lives on in them. The smiles on his face in the pictures where he is holding Danny, Chrissy, and his little grandbaby, Abbey, testifies how much he loved having these wonderful children. After the incredible sorrow passes, he would love to be remembered in stories about some of the good times they all shared together. Sometimes it wasn't easy for him to be a husband or a father, but that didn't mean that it meant any less to him. He had to live his own life, his way, and he expects and wants nothing less for Danny and Chrissy. Have fun, work hard, love large. Remember who you are.
Because Michael lived alone in an apartment before his death, one might believe he was a lonely soul. But Mikey was never lonely. If he needed to be around someone, there were legions of friends nearby who would gladly meet him for a cold one or just to hang out together. His family lived nearby, and he was always welcome back at home. Mike liked a good time, but then, he didn't mind to have moments of peace and solitude where he could just relax. Sometimes details some of us would fret about would be sorted through, and sometimes it was easy to push them to the back of his mind, but that was OK with Mike.
Mike would want all of us to take that spark of life he used to bring into a room, and every now and then, just do something you ordinarily wouldn't do. Play hooky. Give away the money in your wallet. Go to a baseball game on a work day. Flirt a tiny bit with a little old lady. Visit a pet store and smile at the puppies. Send a funny post card to a friend you haven't seen in years. Watch The Three Stooges on a Saturday afternoon. Take a long drive in the country.
I think that we all want to be able to look at our lives and know two things for sure: 1) Did I ever truly love someone in my lifetime? Mikey definitely loved the women in his life, his parents, brother and sisters, his dear friends, and especially, his children, and also, 2) Was I truly loved? It was clearly evident to me, someone who had never met Michael Talarek, that he was indeed, truly loved by so many.
Maybe eternal life means that our memories live on the lives of those we touched, and if that is the case, then Michael Raymond Talarek will live on forever. Those who mourn him have a hole in their lives, and wonder why his life ended too quickly, for indeed, it was not long enough. Maybe it shouldn't be they only had him for 50 years, but rather, that they were blessed with Mikey for 50 years, and how lucky are they to have known him.
I wish I would have.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Guess who I met?
On Friday, February 15th, I was invited to attend an "intimate gathering" with Hillary Clinton. Being a supporter, I jumped at the chance and brought my friend Laura along. We waited in the cold, then waited inside, but realized we were amazingly lucky that we were seated just feet away from where Senator Clinton was going to be sitting. To top it off, we were also on the side of the room where she was to enter, so we knew there would be a photo opportunity as well as possibly the chance to shake her hand.
No matter who you support in the upcoming race, to be this close to someone who has represented our country for many years, and who is creating history as possibly the first woman candidate was amazing. The excitement I felt was huge.
She finally arrived, and sure enough, she shook hands, signed autographs, talked to each person she could, including an elderly clergyman near me who wanted to talk to her for quite some time. She held my hand as she spoke to this gentleman, and even took his worn business card when he offered it to her. She looked each person in the eye, patient and smiling, and moved to her spot at the front of the room.
Hillary spoke for about an hour about the problems facing Ohioans and our country. For each problem she mentioned, she also proposed a solution on how she would handle the problem. I know that she has had a rough road for many years. People love to hate Hillary, often for no real reason when cornered. But as she continued to speak to us, passionate about America and getting us back on track, I gained even more respect for her. I am proud to be an American woman. I am proud that someone like Hillary Clinton is willing to face the criticism, to face the name-calling, to face the attacks on her beliefs, morals and ideas, and yet keep on going. I believe that she has proven that she can be tough but she also has proven that she is smart...and we really need a president we consider smart! Aren't we tired that the entire world makes fun of our current leader?
When Hillary was done talking about the economy, about mortgage foreclosures, about energy and jobs, and about making life better for the middle class, she proceeded to come back around to where we were. She posed for pictures with us, and listened to me talk about my life, about my dreams and how I believed she could help us. She looked at me as I told her how proud I was of her, and she said, "Bless you." I knew as I looked at her that our country would be in wonderful hands if Hillary Clinton becomes president.
The rest of the day we wore the "Hillary for President" stickers we were given at the gathering (which ended up being 150 people, not so intimate as the 50 I was originally told.) Everywhere we went someone talked to us about Hillary. Laura and I felt we were campaigning for Hillary ourselves as we spoke about Hillary's solutions to change our country.
One woman said, "I just don't get why she didn't kick out her husband when he cheated on her." This comes up over and over. First, Hillary didn't do it...Bill did. Sometimes a spouse cheats, and the right thing to do is move on. But sometimes you believe so much in your marriage, you feel such love and commitment, that splitting up is not what you want. Sometimes you want to work through this breach of the promise, forgive the one who hurt you, but stay together because you believe completely in the vows you made. Was it wrong what he did? Of course! Is lying ever right? No! Have all of us told a lie at some point? I expect we have. Have all of us forgiven someone who did us wrong? I hope so. There are reasons that are none of our business why Hillary stayed with her husband. It was amusing to our country to poke fun at their marriage, but I expect to Hillary, there was nothing funny about the public humiliation. I think at times she wanted to hide and never be seen again. However, we know, that is not what she did and now look at the possibility awaiting her. You have got to give her credit for having more courage than many of us!
People also say she is not electable. However, I think if we put Hillary up against John McCain, which is quite likely, she has a greater chance of winning the presidency. Hillary has already beat a very powerful, very well-funded candidate in New York for the senate. She also has never had her patriotism questioned unlike the other candidate, rightly or not.
I do believe in what Hillary Clinton has to say. I hope that enough of her supporters get up and vote on Tuesday, March 4th, so this race can continue. No matter what, however, January 2009 cannot get here fast enough.
No matter who you support in the upcoming race, to be this close to someone who has represented our country for many years, and who is creating history as possibly the first woman candidate was amazing. The excitement I felt was huge.
She finally arrived, and sure enough, she shook hands, signed autographs, talked to each person she could, including an elderly clergyman near me who wanted to talk to her for quite some time. She held my hand as she spoke to this gentleman, and even took his worn business card when he offered it to her. She looked each person in the eye, patient and smiling, and moved to her spot at the front of the room.
Hillary spoke for about an hour about the problems facing Ohioans and our country. For each problem she mentioned, she also proposed a solution on how she would handle the problem. I know that she has had a rough road for many years. People love to hate Hillary, often for no real reason when cornered. But as she continued to speak to us, passionate about America and getting us back on track, I gained even more respect for her. I am proud to be an American woman. I am proud that someone like Hillary Clinton is willing to face the criticism, to face the name-calling, to face the attacks on her beliefs, morals and ideas, and yet keep on going. I believe that she has proven that she can be tough but she also has proven that she is smart...and we really need a president we consider smart! Aren't we tired that the entire world makes fun of our current leader?
When Hillary was done talking about the economy, about mortgage foreclosures, about energy and jobs, and about making life better for the middle class, she proceeded to come back around to where we were. She posed for pictures with us, and listened to me talk about my life, about my dreams and how I believed she could help us. She looked at me as I told her how proud I was of her, and she said, "Bless you." I knew as I looked at her that our country would be in wonderful hands if Hillary Clinton becomes president.
The rest of the day we wore the "Hillary for President" stickers we were given at the gathering (which ended up being 150 people, not so intimate as the 50 I was originally told.) Everywhere we went someone talked to us about Hillary. Laura and I felt we were campaigning for Hillary ourselves as we spoke about Hillary's solutions to change our country.
One woman said, "I just don't get why she didn't kick out her husband when he cheated on her." This comes up over and over. First, Hillary didn't do it...Bill did. Sometimes a spouse cheats, and the right thing to do is move on. But sometimes you believe so much in your marriage, you feel such love and commitment, that splitting up is not what you want. Sometimes you want to work through this breach of the promise, forgive the one who hurt you, but stay together because you believe completely in the vows you made. Was it wrong what he did? Of course! Is lying ever right? No! Have all of us told a lie at some point? I expect we have. Have all of us forgiven someone who did us wrong? I hope so. There are reasons that are none of our business why Hillary stayed with her husband. It was amusing to our country to poke fun at their marriage, but I expect to Hillary, there was nothing funny about the public humiliation. I think at times she wanted to hide and never be seen again. However, we know, that is not what she did and now look at the possibility awaiting her. You have got to give her credit for having more courage than many of us!
People also say she is not electable. However, I think if we put Hillary up against John McCain, which is quite likely, she has a greater chance of winning the presidency. Hillary has already beat a very powerful, very well-funded candidate in New York for the senate. She also has never had her patriotism questioned unlike the other candidate, rightly or not.
I do believe in what Hillary Clinton has to say. I hope that enough of her supporters get up and vote on Tuesday, March 4th, so this race can continue. No matter what, however, January 2009 cannot get here fast enough.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Pan Am Flight 103
20 years ago this December 21st, 270 people were killed on Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. 11 of these people were citizens of Lockerbie. All of the passengers on board the plane as well as all of the crew also died. They were victims of a terrorist bomb from Libya. Many were Americans, and many were young. One such young person was Tony Thomas. His full name was Arva Anthony Thomas. He was one of my students at Hanau American High School in Hanau, Germany. He was living with a family member who was active duty military, but was from Detroit. No one really called him Arva at the high school.
Tony was a funny guy. He hadn't been at Hanau very long, not being a traditional military brat like most of my students. The very nature of schools operated by the Department of Defense is one of acceptance and quick inclusion. Students come and go in such schools, based on whatever is necessary involving the troops around the world. So, while Tony was a city boy, with a little air of the urban street still encircling him, he became a member of the school community easily.
I was a computer teacher, and everyone ended up taking my class at some point because it was a requirement for graduation. It wasn't particularly hard, and back then I was a young, well-liked teacher and the students enjoyed being part of my class. Being a teacher in such an environment was different than teaching back in the States. There was a sense of "we are all in this together" from the faculty as well as the student body, and it wasn't unusual for students and teachers to be seen at the same community events, even enjoying each other's company. I loved it and knew I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to experience this kind of life.
Tony would often joke with me as he entered or left the classroom. In 1988, I was planning to come home at Christmas time to Columbus, Ohio to see my family. I had moved to Germany in 1985 to work for the Department of Defense, and never expected to stay more than the agreed upon 2 years of service. However, I really was having the time of my life and wanted to stay as long as I could. I missed my family, however, and my beloved grandmother had died during the previous year, so Christmas with my family had an even stronger sense of poignancy for me.
Tony and I talked about flying back to the US together, since he was going to Detroit and I was going to Columbus. However, I always flew TWA then because of accruing frequent flyer miles. I also was leaving sooner than the 21st in order to be at home as much as possible during my two week vacation. We did joke, however, about how funny it would be to step off the plane in Columbus together. My father, a rural Ohio farmboy, was not terribly open-minded about mixed racial couples. Tony was a fairly dark-skinned black young man, and I was a red-headed white woman. Playing a joke on my father that Tony and I were a couple made me laugh...it wasn't anything I really would have done, but Tony and I discussed a couple of times about the imagined looks we would get, especially if I could hold a wrapped up object like a baby in my arms when coming into the airport.
On Wednesday, December 21st, I had been home for a day or two, and was already in bed at my parents home when the phone rang late at night. My mother answered it, and then called me to the phone. It was an old college friend who heard about the Pan Am crash on the television, and immediately thought of me. I had no idea at the time that anyone I knew was on the plane, although it definitely shook me up. Flying back and forth from Germany to the US was something I did at least once or twice a year, and it never really entered my mind that there could be terrorists involved. The next day I received several more calls, all wondering if I was home safely. I still didn't know about Tony's death.
I went back to Germany to start the school year after the New Year. When I got to school, I heard the news that Tony had been on the plane. I couldn't believe that this 17 year old boy, going home for Christmas after being away from his family, was killed. The school held a memorial service for him, and his brother came to speak to us all. I remember crying in the auditiorium, and students looking at me. His brother said that Tony had been found in a field, not a mark on his body, looking quite peaceful. I think that it had to be terrifying, but from what I have read, many of the passengers lost consciousness right away when they were sucked out of the plane, and never knew what happened.
Tony lost his life at such a young age. He was only 17! Who knows what the future held for him? I expect the residents of Lockerbie will never forget what happened on the day "Death rained down" upon them 20 years ago. I know the family members of all 270 people killed will mourn them forever. The terrorist who put the bomb in the suitcase, transferring it to the flight and now serving life in prison in Scotland, cannot forget. But, I, too, will always remember Tony Thomas and his smile.
Tony was a funny guy. He hadn't been at Hanau very long, not being a traditional military brat like most of my students. The very nature of schools operated by the Department of Defense is one of acceptance and quick inclusion. Students come and go in such schools, based on whatever is necessary involving the troops around the world. So, while Tony was a city boy, with a little air of the urban street still encircling him, he became a member of the school community easily.
I was a computer teacher, and everyone ended up taking my class at some point because it was a requirement for graduation. It wasn't particularly hard, and back then I was a young, well-liked teacher and the students enjoyed being part of my class. Being a teacher in such an environment was different than teaching back in the States. There was a sense of "we are all in this together" from the faculty as well as the student body, and it wasn't unusual for students and teachers to be seen at the same community events, even enjoying each other's company. I loved it and knew I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to experience this kind of life.
Tony would often joke with me as he entered or left the classroom. In 1988, I was planning to come home at Christmas time to Columbus, Ohio to see my family. I had moved to Germany in 1985 to work for the Department of Defense, and never expected to stay more than the agreed upon 2 years of service. However, I really was having the time of my life and wanted to stay as long as I could. I missed my family, however, and my beloved grandmother had died during the previous year, so Christmas with my family had an even stronger sense of poignancy for me.
Tony and I talked about flying back to the US together, since he was going to Detroit and I was going to Columbus. However, I always flew TWA then because of accruing frequent flyer miles. I also was leaving sooner than the 21st in order to be at home as much as possible during my two week vacation. We did joke, however, about how funny it would be to step off the plane in Columbus together. My father, a rural Ohio farmboy, was not terribly open-minded about mixed racial couples. Tony was a fairly dark-skinned black young man, and I was a red-headed white woman. Playing a joke on my father that Tony and I were a couple made me laugh...it wasn't anything I really would have done, but Tony and I discussed a couple of times about the imagined looks we would get, especially if I could hold a wrapped up object like a baby in my arms when coming into the airport.
On Wednesday, December 21st, I had been home for a day or two, and was already in bed at my parents home when the phone rang late at night. My mother answered it, and then called me to the phone. It was an old college friend who heard about the Pan Am crash on the television, and immediately thought of me. I had no idea at the time that anyone I knew was on the plane, although it definitely shook me up. Flying back and forth from Germany to the US was something I did at least once or twice a year, and it never really entered my mind that there could be terrorists involved. The next day I received several more calls, all wondering if I was home safely. I still didn't know about Tony's death.
I went back to Germany to start the school year after the New Year. When I got to school, I heard the news that Tony had been on the plane. I couldn't believe that this 17 year old boy, going home for Christmas after being away from his family, was killed. The school held a memorial service for him, and his brother came to speak to us all. I remember crying in the auditiorium, and students looking at me. His brother said that Tony had been found in a field, not a mark on his body, looking quite peaceful. I think that it had to be terrifying, but from what I have read, many of the passengers lost consciousness right away when they were sucked out of the plane, and never knew what happened.
Tony lost his life at such a young age. He was only 17! Who knows what the future held for him? I expect the residents of Lockerbie will never forget what happened on the day "Death rained down" upon them 20 years ago. I know the family members of all 270 people killed will mourn them forever. The terrorist who put the bomb in the suitcase, transferring it to the flight and now serving life in prison in Scotland, cannot forget. But, I, too, will always remember Tony Thomas and his smile.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Meaning of Life
I am not going to presume that I have the answer. But I do have the answer that is right for me. I did not think of it myself, but rather, was inspired by a priest at an opening school mass where I used to teach. The message resonated completely within me, and at last, I no longer had to dwell on this particular topic.
The meaning of life probably never enters some people's minds. Perhaps existance on this planet has no real meaning. Evolution caused the combination of Carbon and Oxygen, and ta-da! Life is.
For other people, life is intertwined with religion or spirituality. The meaning of life to them is whatever the church says for them to believe...maybe it is spreading the word, converting others to their way of believing, or even bigger, getting ready for heaven.
My favorite Bible verse is "He who loveth not knoweth not God, for God is Love." I also happen to believe that God is everywhere and loves everyone. This matters in my explanation of the meaning of life because it centers around love.
Wait...what? That's it! The meaning of life is knowing I have loved during my time here, as well as knowing that I was truly loved in return. Too simple?
Love comes in many forms. It's the love we have for our parents, often starting as a special love for our mothers who nurture us and feed us even before we are born. It's a love that never leaves us, if we are lucky, even when our parents are long gone. I used to cry at night as a girl, worried that my father might die. When he actually did die, too young as a man still in his 60s, I was devastated. I will never get over the loss of my father, but yet, I still have love for him. Isn't this really amazing? I can love someone who isn't even alive!
I remember falling in love with someone for the first time. It took some time for me to realize that was what it was. I wanted to be sure it wasn't just hormones, or lust, or wanting to be like everyone else, but when it lingered and grew, I knew I truly loved him. I dreamt of him, my every teenaged conversation was about him, and I couldn't wait to see him even through one high school class at a time. I'd get a hall pass to the restroom and saunter by his classroom, just to have a quick look and a smile from this boy I was crazy about.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, a good friend told me, "There are two things no one can ever really tell you about having a baby. One, it really hurts. You can't imagine the pain you will experience when you have this baby. Luckily, the pain goes away not long after, or no one would have more than one baby! Two, you have thought you have loved before. But no love compares to the love you will have when you see your baby for the very first time. It is the kind of love you would kill someone about." She was absolutely right! It did hurt, more than my dry socket after my wisdom teeth were pulled. And I fell in love with that little baby in a way that cannot compare to any other feeling I have ever had. Then I was blessed with a son, and I had the very same love for him in the very same way. There is no limit to the love we can have.
People use the word love in so many ways, and each version of love really means something completely different. I love my cat. I love my partner. I love ice cream. I love my favorite movie. I love to sleep. Aren't they all different? And then we use the expression, "Making Love." Which often has nothing to do with love in the first place, does it? Can we make love? I wish we could. Every girl with a skin problem left alone on prom night eating her tube of cookie dough in front of the TV with her ear glued to the telephone rants of other lonesome and leftout no-beauty queens wishes there was a way to make love.
Love also dies. How does this happen? How can I have love, real love for someone, and then one day, realize I don't have that love anymore? And no matter how hard I try, I just cannot feel the same way. Where does love go?
So. Back to the meaning of life. I am blessed with having been in reciprocated love more than once in my life. I am loved still today, and I love in return. My children know they are loved, which was my number one vow when my children were born. And, most days, my children love me too. My cats love me, especially the big fat male who knows I will feed him and pet him every day. There are others, family and friends mainly, who also love me. There are many people long gone from this earth who loved me as well. There are people I never see who may still love me, just as I love them.
I believe on my last day, I will not be afraid. I will be able to go to my Maker, having been with Him all along after all, in the love that I have had in my life all of my days. God is love.
The meaning of life probably never enters some people's minds. Perhaps existance on this planet has no real meaning. Evolution caused the combination of Carbon and Oxygen, and ta-da! Life is.
For other people, life is intertwined with religion or spirituality. The meaning of life to them is whatever the church says for them to believe...maybe it is spreading the word, converting others to their way of believing, or even bigger, getting ready for heaven.
My favorite Bible verse is "He who loveth not knoweth not God, for God is Love." I also happen to believe that God is everywhere and loves everyone. This matters in my explanation of the meaning of life because it centers around love.
Wait...what? That's it! The meaning of life is knowing I have loved during my time here, as well as knowing that I was truly loved in return. Too simple?
Love comes in many forms. It's the love we have for our parents, often starting as a special love for our mothers who nurture us and feed us even before we are born. It's a love that never leaves us, if we are lucky, even when our parents are long gone. I used to cry at night as a girl, worried that my father might die. When he actually did die, too young as a man still in his 60s, I was devastated. I will never get over the loss of my father, but yet, I still have love for him. Isn't this really amazing? I can love someone who isn't even alive!
I remember falling in love with someone for the first time. It took some time for me to realize that was what it was. I wanted to be sure it wasn't just hormones, or lust, or wanting to be like everyone else, but when it lingered and grew, I knew I truly loved him. I dreamt of him, my every teenaged conversation was about him, and I couldn't wait to see him even through one high school class at a time. I'd get a hall pass to the restroom and saunter by his classroom, just to have a quick look and a smile from this boy I was crazy about.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, a good friend told me, "There are two things no one can ever really tell you about having a baby. One, it really hurts. You can't imagine the pain you will experience when you have this baby. Luckily, the pain goes away not long after, or no one would have more than one baby! Two, you have thought you have loved before. But no love compares to the love you will have when you see your baby for the very first time. It is the kind of love you would kill someone about." She was absolutely right! It did hurt, more than my dry socket after my wisdom teeth were pulled. And I fell in love with that little baby in a way that cannot compare to any other feeling I have ever had. Then I was blessed with a son, and I had the very same love for him in the very same way. There is no limit to the love we can have.
People use the word love in so many ways, and each version of love really means something completely different. I love my cat. I love my partner. I love ice cream. I love my favorite movie. I love to sleep. Aren't they all different? And then we use the expression, "Making Love." Which often has nothing to do with love in the first place, does it? Can we make love? I wish we could. Every girl with a skin problem left alone on prom night eating her tube of cookie dough in front of the TV with her ear glued to the telephone rants of other lonesome and leftout no-beauty queens wishes there was a way to make love.
Love also dies. How does this happen? How can I have love, real love for someone, and then one day, realize I don't have that love anymore? And no matter how hard I try, I just cannot feel the same way. Where does love go?
So. Back to the meaning of life. I am blessed with having been in reciprocated love more than once in my life. I am loved still today, and I love in return. My children know they are loved, which was my number one vow when my children were born. And, most days, my children love me too. My cats love me, especially the big fat male who knows I will feed him and pet him every day. There are others, family and friends mainly, who also love me. There are many people long gone from this earth who loved me as well. There are people I never see who may still love me, just as I love them.
I believe on my last day, I will not be afraid. I will be able to go to my Maker, having been with Him all along after all, in the love that I have had in my life all of my days. God is love.
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