When I talk (every chance I get) about the workshop I’m going to attend this summer, my listening victim often orders, “Take pictures!” Well, someone did at the one held in June.
I’ve also received the “curriculum” for the workshop. The primary instructor also happens to teach high school, so my educator mindset is comfortable with how things will unfold. At the risk of bragging, I was also pleased at how much of the content I’m familiar with after years of watching ox pulls.
Stay tuned!
Some would say that subtle changes are the best ones. It’s no secret that human beings like predictability. Visit the grocery store and discover that “they moved” where certain things are. Or discover that the store has changed its hours. When did that happen?
For some reason, this year, I’ve been more keenly aware of the changes taking place with the way we celebrate Memorial Day. The irony doesn’t escape me that I’m remembering how we used to celebrate this day by remembering military personnel who died serving our country.
When I was a young child, Memorial Day was a big deal. Preparations started long before the day itself. I accompanied my Dad on multiple trips to the cemetery, making graves “look good.” We also would retrieve heavy rifles stored at the then-legion hall for some spit and polish in anticipation of the big parade that everyone in town attended. Mom spent a lot of time fussing with Dad’s dress blues. I got to wear my very own sailor’s cap on the day itself.
I don’t remember any cookouts or family picnics, although I’m sure we had them. One of my favorite photos of Dad is him in full uniform kneeling in a pasture on my uncle’s father’s farm. I think he stayed in uniform most of the day—at least that’s the way I remember it. Dad always seemed to stand a little taller and straighter on Memorial Day. I tried to be like him.
The overriding word for that day was “pride.” at seven years old, I didn’t fully understand it, but I felt it.
Seventy years later, I wonder what today’s seven-year-olds are thinking and feeling.
I listened to a George Patton speech (not George C. Scott!) last night. He described the trail of the Third Army and Eighth Air Force as “marked by forty thousand white crosses, forty thousand dead Americans.” That mattered. He cared about them.
Memorial Day does not celebrate those deaths. It does not celebrate war. It is perhaps more accurately a celebration of human potential and of human commitment.
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
George S. Patton
When did it become difficult to find a parade to watch on this special day? When did we stop visiting the cemetery to place flowers and straighten flags?
The least we can do today is stand a little taller and straighter.
Walter Bruce Boomsma, Sr.
S1 USNR
World War II
September 29, 1926 – June 24, 1954
“Don’t ever be ashamed of loving the strange things that make your weird little heart happy.”
Elizabeth Gilbert
I suppose it goes with the territory of “aging,” but for some reason, this past week, I noticed some strange things that make me happy. One was stumbling onto Elizabeth’s quote and realizing my heart is weird.
One thing that’s making me happy is my email inbox is approaching a record low of under 100 emails. The delete button is showing signs of wear. That also makes me happy.
Late yesterday afternoon I went to Nightengale’s Dairy to pick up milk. I always stop to say “thanks” to the girls and scratch the interested ones behind the ears and under the chin. Seeing them look expectantly at the truck when I drive in makes me happy. I like to think seeing the truck makes them happy.
If I seem a bit obsessed with bovines, I can offer “We’re Already Here” as an explanation that a summer road trip to Michigan includes a four-day commitment to learning how to train and drive a team of oxen. That will make my weird little heart happy.
Speaking of cows, my Amish friend Rachel in Pennsylvania made a sign for us: “Money can’t buy happiness. But it can buy cows. Cows give milk. Ice cream is made from milk. Ice cream makes me happy.” We gifted it to a friend who loves cows even more than I do, but I think I love ice cream more than she does.
And speaking of Amish, I love my occasional visits with my Swartzentruber friends in Corinth. During a recent stop, the boys and I compared suspenders. It started when they found mine with clips fascinating (weird?). It became a bit of a “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Their suspenders come from a harness maker, are made from leather, and button inside their trousers. That we can share our differences makes my weird little heart happy.
The oldest boy just finished his first year of school, so he now speaks English well, although his Mom had to help us with the word horse–“paard” in Pennsylvania Dutch. I like to think we are learning to celebrate–to love–our sometimes strange differences.
After all, we don’t all love the same kind of ice cream.
I suppose this screenshot puts me at some risk of landing in Facebook Jail, but it’s worth it. According to poster Becki Cassidy, it’s a visual representation of her real estate career in “stress squeezer form.”
Sales Agent Course Alumni may recall that I furnished these to students taking the course’s final exam. The idea was that you would have an extra brain to “squeeze” the information from. (Some data suggests that fidgeting (squeezing) improves focus and concentration.)
I really like Becki’s question, “Anyone getting a Wizard of Oz vibe?” I did–on several points. I’m not in Kansas anymore, having left teaching real estate and “repotting” myself. And, of course, “If I only had a brain” is an irresistible hum.
Maybe I’m enjoying this too much because of the fact that the brain is next to a heart, possibly suggesting some important synergy. Brain, heart, and courage do seem to be vital to personal success.
Thanks, Becki. It’s great to know my brains are still out there. Of course, they are now your brains. (Whenever UPS delivered a shipment, I would act excited while taking the box and exclaiming, “My brains came! My brains came!” ) The idea of brains existing outside the body can be fun.
I am humbly trying not to think of myself as a wizard, although we all have some wizard in us. We can “give” others helpful thinking and care and help create courage.
Following the yellow brick road is also not a bad idea. We all would benefit from having and better using our brains, hearts, and courage.
I’m off to see the wizard. Care to come along?
I’m honored to be part of a powerful collaboration to confront escalating suicide rates. RSU 19 Adult Education, American Legion Post 73, and I are joining hands to offer a free workshop to raise awareness and encourage the prevention of this growing healthcare crisis.
It is up to all of us—educators, veterans, families, and community members—to unite in this significant cause. Through education, support, and open dialogue, we can contribute to reducing the stigma associated with mental health issues and work towards a future where everyone feels valued, supported, and empowered to seek help.
Pre-registration is strongly encouraged by calling RSU 19 Adult Education at 368-3290. Doors open at 5:30 pm and the Post will be providing light refreshments.
For additional information and FAQ regarding the workshop content and attendance visit this page.