Last evening, Pat and I went to a picnic. Here were a lot of old friends, people I knew from my days as a teacher, and many of whom I've kept contact with since. There is a good comfort in having old friends, people who will come to meet you sometimes. If we just let our mind slip past that ordinary state of simply carrying on, past simply surviving each hour, we do reach another more transcendental realization that not only have we once mattered, we still do. I think we're like Birches, bent by the winds and by the kids swinging from our lives, but still standing here.
2 comments:
Absolutely! Every one of us there last night has mattered to many of our students.
As important, we matter to each other. What the teachers in Bridgeport have is due to the work of those who came before us. Whether that was as the son of your teaching / bridge playing buddy or as a negotiator whose efforts protect and provide for us still, you amd many others have done these and many other "goods" that endure.
Don't underestimate your birchyness.
Mike
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Thanks for the nice thoughts, Mike.
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