It is good to commemorate the life of our fellow teacher, our friend Denise. It is also good to celebrate the life of Denise. But we would do her the greatest disservice if we did not pause to consider a little of what we have learned from Denise. It seemed like it was just a few short days ago we gathered to tell her thank you and to recall with much laughter and gratitude all the hundreds of things for which we remembered her. Sadly, the time for thanking Denise face to face is gone, the time to stop and recall the things she had to teach us is not gone. And that is because those lessons are that part of Denise that lives on in all of us.
*
After growing up for 45 wonderful years as a Baptist, it has been my joy to have spent the last decade as an Episcopalian; sort’a Catholic-Lite if you will. And yes, it is true that where you have four Episcopalians you will also find a fifth. But one of the elements of our faith journey, which I love, is to offer thanksgiving prayers to God for those who have gone on before me. And every morning as I drive to school I am saying my morning prayers on the Broken Arrow Expressway. As a Baptist I prayed with my eyes closed, but when driving, I pray Episcopalian style with my eyes open. Still, I’m sure that between my praying and driving I prompt many other drivers to say their prayers, too. But as I pray, it is to offer God thanks that He allowed loved ones like Denise to have touched my life and in touching my life, have taught me to serve Him better AND how to be a better person. And walking with Denise, even these few years, has made me a better person.
*
In light of this as I thought of Denise while visiting with others who taught with, lived with, walked with and were touched by Denise, one descriptor that kept coming to the top was her dedicated, focused passion. As we all know, Denise was passionate…in whatever she did. But it wasn’t haphazard passion; it was a dedicated/focused passion.
*
You may not know this, or want to know this. I know you don’t want to picture this, but every morning at 5:30 I’m in the swimming pool at St. John’s Health Club. Yes, I jump in and someone yells, “Thar she blows!” Still I jump in that pool with passion. I kick with passion. I stir up a huge amount of froth and foam with passion. But in that passion I go nowhere, because I have yet to learn the focus and dedication to the correct method for effective forward motion. On the other hand, the skilled swimmers, jump in with just as much passion, but because it is dedicated and focused up the proper techniques they have learned, their passionate kicking causes them to slice through the water like motor boats.
*
Denise had passion, and it was focued and dedicated towards her goal. Furthermore she was able to focus on a goal that was, first) global and broad in spectrum and, second) she was also able to focus and dedicate her passion to the small details, necessary to make the broad, global goals possible. I like to say that Denise taught us to approach life like a comic book picture. She saw the big picture as well as the tiny little dots that make up that big picture. We all know gifted people who dream the big picture, but they require the detail people to work out the details that must be attended to before the big picture comes together. Likewise we know gifted people who are focused so passionately on the tiny details, the little spots of the picture, that they are not able to organize them into the big picture. Well Denise taught us that you could do both. Her big picture was teaching students to becoming thinking, educated adults. Her big picture was to make the workplace a better place for her fellow teachers. Her room was organized with just the right furniture, (which she had purchased with her own money) lessons were planned. Classroom order was kept and procedures were explained! Deadlines were met. The team functioned as a team.
*
But she also taught us that to accomplish the big picture, there were hundreds of little details that needed attention: name tags on the doors, candy, the right candy in the dishes, a microwave and salt shakers in the lounge, bus passes that were laminated, pictures and movie screens hung, doors painted and messages put on the marquee. And in all of this, her passion, focus, organization, attention to the big picture and detail she was teaching us that we are called to make this life better for our passing and touching. She wanted a better world and she dedicated her self passionately to making every footstep and life touched, better because she had walked that way.
*
To succeed in teaching us her lessons, she set the bar high, very high and she was dedicated in reaching that bar herself. First to arrive every morning, last to leave every afternoon she did not leave until everything was in order, so that after dedicating herself to an evening of preparation at home, tomorrow’s lesson plans were ready to deliver. She could, would, and did get upset if others did not accomplish at an expected level of competence. It was not a pleasant encounter when one experienced her well-articulated evaluation for poor production, but God help you if you failed because you had not given your best effort. Before the Army ever came up with the slogan “Be All You Can Be” Denise had been living it and teaching it for years. Yes, those of us who knew her, believed that Denise was indeed an Army of One. She gave nothing but her best and taught us to do the same. If it was going to be done, she taught us that it should be done right. If it was served, it was not served half baked, if it was turned in it wasn’t turned in half-done, if it was to be built it wasn’t built half-aaaaaaaa,……. in a half-way manner. No, with Denise, it was half-assed!
*
Yes, she could make mistakes, Denise was not perfect and she was the first to admit her imperfections, but as one of our most esteemed colleagues observed, “If Denise made a mistake, you know it was made for the right reasons.” Denise made Lewis and Clark a better school, because she taught us to be better teachers, better administrators, better students, better people.
*
Let us not allow this lesson to go unlearned. Denise taught us to see the big picture, she taught us to see the little details that had to be attended to, to succeed with the big picture. She taught us to set the highest goals and pursue them with passion, so that this world will be better for our passing and our touching.
*
Friends, Denise Gandy may have left the building, but her lesson is still on the board…..and yes, we will be tested on this!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Monday, December 14, 2009
Stockley Family Christmas Letter, 2009 Edition
Nice to hear about your Grandkids. Please don’t take it wrong but ours really are cuter and smarter.
*
Yours did what? They did? Well, Mr. Laird’s 2nd grade football team won the West Monroe Tackle Football Super Bowl. Top that. And Emma Lou danced the Turkey Tango at her dance class and they said it was the best they’d EVER seen. Don’t feel bad.
*
You got a new grandbaby? We got one, too. Cutest one on Facebook. If you don’t think so we’ll put a picture of yours up next to Edie Hope’s (Edith Hope Christlieb, born March 29) and we’ll take a poll. She’ll spank your little possum like a redheaded stepchild.
*
Your kids? Yea, yea, yea. Well Josh is on radio, in the paper, getting papers published and is probably the greatest Poli-Sci professor ever at ULM. However, since opposing the Louisiana Baptist Minister’s encyclical suggesting that President Obama be called “Boy” rather than “Mr. President”, he’s been hated by every Rush Hannibeck disciple in Redneck Town. And April finally got him to put up a Christmas Tree and has got them all settled in to their fabulous new house with white pillars, two back doors and their own private forest preserve in the back yard. Oh, yea. We’ll I’ll bet our kids got more pillars than your kids.
*
Rachel and Dave are happy in their extremely luxurious condo, what with Dave being such a famous lawyer and semi-professional poker player and with Rachel being the best 3rd grade teacher and momma ever. Dave will probably be out in Vegas again kicking butt on Doyle Brunson, Scottie Nguyen and Phil Ivey. He’s also taught Edie to never bet a medium strength hand on the river.
*
And, oh, yea, about your trip to Australia, Lichtenstein and hiking the entire length of the Great Wall of China, well, WE went to the Quad Cities to see Lynn’s Mom and Joe and to Chicago to tear up Ashkenaz’ Kosher Deli and Flip’s Italian Beef. Steve committed gluttony in two Maid Rites, Whitey’s, Lagomarcino’s and three Vienna Red Hot joints. Oh, yea, we saw Rachel, Dave and Edie Hope.
*
Besides that, Steve went to Wheaton for his 40th High School Reunion. Every young lady fit into her senior prom dress, sported their high school hair tones untouched by Miss Clairol and escorted a young man in his senior athletic form. Steve of course fit right in. They voted on which literary figure classmates had grown to be most like. Steve was unanimously voted to be most like Moby Dick.
*
Our 37th Fall Pilgrimage to Eureka Springs found Two Dumb Dames still making the same great fudge and Steve and friend Lonnie still puffing fragrant billows of Cuban incense in the park with the fortune tellers, jewelry peddlers and blue-haired ladies in matching craft fair sweatshirts.
*
We’re both still accruing seniority with Tulsa Public Schools, having more fun than if we had paying jobs. Steve is 6th grade dean and has worked himself up to the office closest to the parking lot door. Lynn’s a high school counselor and finally enjoys working for a principal with principles. Steve’s principal has principles, she just wishes her 6th grade dean did also. In addition to all that we had the thrilling events of one birthday each and a 37th Anniversary. Our excitement just doesn’t end.
*
So comparing letters, I think we come away with the prize even without going into details such as cleaning the garage and pulling weeds in the back yard. Steve wears his literary honor proudly and is happy to report that the trainer yells out, ‘Thar she blows when Steve jumps into the pool. Lynn gets her exercise planting potatoes on her farm in Farmville and occasionally visiting the gym. She's discovered that visiting is much more fun than working out.
*
So we’d love to visit more but there are more Christmas letters to burn ah, er, read, potatoes to plant and garages to clean.
*
From our Uncle Mott to you, “Just remember who wins the Christmas Rat Race - the rat. So take a few quiet minutes to see if you can hear a mother in a stable singing quietly to her newborn baby. It might just bring back that feeling that got crushed in the line at the check-out counter. Then have a Blessed Christmas.”
*
Merry Christmas 2009
From Wee'uns to You'uns
*
Yours did what? They did? Well, Mr. Laird’s 2nd grade football team won the West Monroe Tackle Football Super Bowl. Top that. And Emma Lou danced the Turkey Tango at her dance class and they said it was the best they’d EVER seen. Don’t feel bad.
*
You got a new grandbaby? We got one, too. Cutest one on Facebook. If you don’t think so we’ll put a picture of yours up next to Edie Hope’s (Edith Hope Christlieb, born March 29) and we’ll take a poll. She’ll spank your little possum like a redheaded stepchild.
*
Your kids? Yea, yea, yea. Well Josh is on radio, in the paper, getting papers published and is probably the greatest Poli-Sci professor ever at ULM. However, since opposing the Louisiana Baptist Minister’s encyclical suggesting that President Obama be called “Boy” rather than “Mr. President”, he’s been hated by every Rush Hannibeck disciple in Redneck Town. And April finally got him to put up a Christmas Tree and has got them all settled in to their fabulous new house with white pillars, two back doors and their own private forest preserve in the back yard. Oh, yea. We’ll I’ll bet our kids got more pillars than your kids.
*
Rachel and Dave are happy in their extremely luxurious condo, what with Dave being such a famous lawyer and semi-professional poker player and with Rachel being the best 3rd grade teacher and momma ever. Dave will probably be out in Vegas again kicking butt on Doyle Brunson, Scottie Nguyen and Phil Ivey. He’s also taught Edie to never bet a medium strength hand on the river.
*
And, oh, yea, about your trip to Australia, Lichtenstein and hiking the entire length of the Great Wall of China, well, WE went to the Quad Cities to see Lynn’s Mom and Joe and to Chicago to tear up Ashkenaz’ Kosher Deli and Flip’s Italian Beef. Steve committed gluttony in two Maid Rites, Whitey’s, Lagomarcino’s and three Vienna Red Hot joints. Oh, yea, we saw Rachel, Dave and Edie Hope.
*
Besides that, Steve went to Wheaton for his 40th High School Reunion. Every young lady fit into her senior prom dress, sported their high school hair tones untouched by Miss Clairol and escorted a young man in his senior athletic form. Steve of course fit right in. They voted on which literary figure classmates had grown to be most like. Steve was unanimously voted to be most like Moby Dick.
*
Our 37th Fall Pilgrimage to Eureka Springs found Two Dumb Dames still making the same great fudge and Steve and friend Lonnie still puffing fragrant billows of Cuban incense in the park with the fortune tellers, jewelry peddlers and blue-haired ladies in matching craft fair sweatshirts.
*
We’re both still accruing seniority with Tulsa Public Schools, having more fun than if we had paying jobs. Steve is 6th grade dean and has worked himself up to the office closest to the parking lot door. Lynn’s a high school counselor and finally enjoys working for a principal with principles. Steve’s principal has principles, she just wishes her 6th grade dean did also. In addition to all that we had the thrilling events of one birthday each and a 37th Anniversary. Our excitement just doesn’t end.
*
So comparing letters, I think we come away with the prize even without going into details such as cleaning the garage and pulling weeds in the back yard. Steve wears his literary honor proudly and is happy to report that the trainer yells out, ‘Thar she blows when Steve jumps into the pool. Lynn gets her exercise planting potatoes on her farm in Farmville and occasionally visiting the gym. She's discovered that visiting is much more fun than working out.
*
So we’d love to visit more but there are more Christmas letters to burn ah, er, read, potatoes to plant and garages to clean.
*
From our Uncle Mott to you, “Just remember who wins the Christmas Rat Race - the rat. So take a few quiet minutes to see if you can hear a mother in a stable singing quietly to her newborn baby. It might just bring back that feeling that got crushed in the line at the check-out counter. Then have a Blessed Christmas.”
*
Merry Christmas 2009
From Wee'uns to You'uns
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Mr. Carter, Just One More Song
I’ll never forget the first time I heard him sing the notes of praise that gently and joyfully filled the hallway. I rounded the corner to discover the source of my concert coming from a slightly rotund man directing two special needs students to the bathroom. I stood and stared as the door closed. Still the words “Oh my Jesus...” wafted down the hall.
*
I had met Reggie Carter: Para-professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. Someone who I would call my friend. Every day, Mr. Carter and Larry would pick up the recycle paper. Larry has downs syndrome, is a full fledged character and loved nothing more than escaping Mr. Carter’s watchful eye and running to momentary freedom down the hall. Larry laughing in escape. Mr. Carter laughing in pursuit. Captured and returned, Larry and Mr. Carter singing, pushing a cart of recycle paper. Mr. Carter succeeded in potty-training Larry, and never lost his song.
*
Mornings, I’d see Mr. Carter sitting at a table with four students, helping one to eat, encouraging another to feed himself, singing a praise song in response to the temper tantrum of a third. Carrying trash for those who could not. Encouraging those who could not.
*
At lunch Mr. Carter walked backwards with outstretched hands to make sure Donnie did not spill his plate. Donnie is autistic. Mr. Carter was filling the cafeteria with a spontaneous song celebrating Donnie’s success in carrying his plate. And did they celebrate. Donnie carried his plate all the way from the lunch line to his seat. We were treated to a song and a dance! Hurrah! The next day, Donnie took two steps and the plate fell from his trembling hands to the floor. Mr. Carter cleaned it up with a smile and started a new song of encouragement all over. From the beginning. Because in another week or two weeks or month, Donnie would again carry his plate all by himself all the way to his table. And Mr. Carter would then sing and clap and dance and celebrate Donnie’s new success.
*
Some days I’d arrive at school to see Mr. Carter sitting on the steps, awaiting the bus, reading his Bible. I was greeted to another day with a smile, a laugh and maybe the last line of an old joke we had shared a hundred times before.
*
The writer of the Book of James said, you tell me of you faith by your words, I will show you my faith by my deeds. Had James the brother of our Lord met Mr. Carter, our Bibles might well have read, Mr. Religious stuffed shirt, you may tell me of your faith with your words, but Mr. Carter will show you real faith by his deeds.
*
He saw no color. He helped others see no color. Ready to use, refusing to abuse working relationships he made everyone seem like a special friend, and I think we were. He’d sing a song, say a prayer and then look at a coworker with a twinkle in his eye and they’d say together, “Super Twin Power Activate!”, no child, no tantrum, no crisis could withstand this united assault of super-power twin love. If Satan was autistic, Reggie Carter would have stormed the gates of Hell with a water pistol, firmly believing he could have brought him God’s love, a song and the expectation that Old Scratch would indeed clean up his act before the bus came.
*
Never a discouraging word, never a negative comment, the answer was always the same; “I’m just too blessed to be stressed.” And always a song.
*
If there is a tragedy in Mr. Carter’s life it is that the upper and middle management powers at the District Big House had time to make contradictory policy, in-effective rules and pointless programs, but they never had time to get to know God’s Ambassador in their own department. Had these anointed leaders watched this precious servant, they would have been reborn as true leaders. It never happened.
*
I could go on with a hundred more stories in the classroom and on the playground. A hundred more songs: playing in the gym and getting on the bus. But let’s just say Reggie Carter lived a life of ministry in every setting, in every circumstance and he always did it armed with a smile and a song. Suffice it to say, Mr. Reggie Carter preached as eloquent a sermon while pushing a recycle cart as the best paid minister has ever preached from the highest pulpit in a downtown church.
*
As soon as I am done writing these words I will return to the same school, the same halls. There will be Donnie. There will be Larry. There will be a cart of recycle paper. There will be students eating in the cafeteria. But there will not be a song or Mr. Carter.
*
I am glad Reggie Carter has gone to sing in the halls of Heaven. But I am sad that we have lost Para professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. I am sad I have lost my friend. I am sad, Mr. Carter, that I can’t hear you sing just one more song.
*
I had met Reggie Carter: Para-professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. Someone who I would call my friend. Every day, Mr. Carter and Larry would pick up the recycle paper. Larry has downs syndrome, is a full fledged character and loved nothing more than escaping Mr. Carter’s watchful eye and running to momentary freedom down the hall. Larry laughing in escape. Mr. Carter laughing in pursuit. Captured and returned, Larry and Mr. Carter singing, pushing a cart of recycle paper. Mr. Carter succeeded in potty-training Larry, and never lost his song.
*
Mornings, I’d see Mr. Carter sitting at a table with four students, helping one to eat, encouraging another to feed himself, singing a praise song in response to the temper tantrum of a third. Carrying trash for those who could not. Encouraging those who could not.
*
At lunch Mr. Carter walked backwards with outstretched hands to make sure Donnie did not spill his plate. Donnie is autistic. Mr. Carter was filling the cafeteria with a spontaneous song celebrating Donnie’s success in carrying his plate. And did they celebrate. Donnie carried his plate all the way from the lunch line to his seat. We were treated to a song and a dance! Hurrah! The next day, Donnie took two steps and the plate fell from his trembling hands to the floor. Mr. Carter cleaned it up with a smile and started a new song of encouragement all over. From the beginning. Because in another week or two weeks or month, Donnie would again carry his plate all by himself all the way to his table. And Mr. Carter would then sing and clap and dance and celebrate Donnie’s new success.
*
Some days I’d arrive at school to see Mr. Carter sitting on the steps, awaiting the bus, reading his Bible. I was greeted to another day with a smile, a laugh and maybe the last line of an old joke we had shared a hundred times before.
*
The writer of the Book of James said, you tell me of you faith by your words, I will show you my faith by my deeds. Had James the brother of our Lord met Mr. Carter, our Bibles might well have read, Mr. Religious stuffed shirt, you may tell me of your faith with your words, but Mr. Carter will show you real faith by his deeds.
*
He saw no color. He helped others see no color. Ready to use, refusing to abuse working relationships he made everyone seem like a special friend, and I think we were. He’d sing a song, say a prayer and then look at a coworker with a twinkle in his eye and they’d say together, “Super Twin Power Activate!”, no child, no tantrum, no crisis could withstand this united assault of super-power twin love. If Satan was autistic, Reggie Carter would have stormed the gates of Hell with a water pistol, firmly believing he could have brought him God’s love, a song and the expectation that Old Scratch would indeed clean up his act before the bus came.
*
Never a discouraging word, never a negative comment, the answer was always the same; “I’m just too blessed to be stressed.” And always a song.
*
If there is a tragedy in Mr. Carter’s life it is that the upper and middle management powers at the District Big House had time to make contradictory policy, in-effective rules and pointless programs, but they never had time to get to know God’s Ambassador in their own department. Had these anointed leaders watched this precious servant, they would have been reborn as true leaders. It never happened.
*
I could go on with a hundred more stories in the classroom and on the playground. A hundred more songs: playing in the gym and getting on the bus. But let’s just say Reggie Carter lived a life of ministry in every setting, in every circumstance and he always did it armed with a smile and a song. Suffice it to say, Mr. Reggie Carter preached as eloquent a sermon while pushing a recycle cart as the best paid minister has ever preached from the highest pulpit in a downtown church.
*
As soon as I am done writing these words I will return to the same school, the same halls. There will be Donnie. There will be Larry. There will be a cart of recycle paper. There will be students eating in the cafeteria. But there will not be a song or Mr. Carter.
*
I am glad Reggie Carter has gone to sing in the halls of Heaven. But I am sad that we have lost Para professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. I am sad I have lost my friend. I am sad, Mr. Carter, that I can’t hear you sing just one more song.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Are Right-Wing Christians Christian or Just Right-Wing?
One: The United States has enough money to blow Iraqis and Afghanistanis to Hell in little pieces. Two: The Rush Hannibekis say we don’t have the same amount of money to heal the poor and needy in the United States. Three: Why do we have the money to kill but do not have the money to heal?
*
One: The majority of right-wing conservatives claim to be Christians. Two: Jesus (the guy who held the original copyright on Christianity) healed multitudes and killed not a single Roman, Samaritan or Canaanite. Three: Upon what moral grounds does the majority of right-wing Christians support spending for war and oppose equal spending for healthcare?
*
One: Most Christians claim the entire Bible is the word of God. Two: From the prophets to Jesus Christ, God condemns the religious and self-righteous who refused help to the poor and needy. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds does the religious right-wing damn health care?
*
One: Christians took the lead in the fight for free, government paid public education for all. Two: Although late in coming, Christians finally took the lead in the governmental eradication of slavery. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds are right-wing Christians sitting on their wallet-protecting hands while opposing government healthcare for the poor and needy?
*
Are Right-Wing Christians Christian or Just Right-Wing?
*
One: The majority of right-wing conservatives claim to be Christians. Two: Jesus (the guy who held the original copyright on Christianity) healed multitudes and killed not a single Roman, Samaritan or Canaanite. Three: Upon what moral grounds does the majority of right-wing Christians support spending for war and oppose equal spending for healthcare?
*
One: Most Christians claim the entire Bible is the word of God. Two: From the prophets to Jesus Christ, God condemns the religious and self-righteous who refused help to the poor and needy. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds does the religious right-wing damn health care?
*
One: Christians took the lead in the fight for free, government paid public education for all. Two: Although late in coming, Christians finally took the lead in the governmental eradication of slavery. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds are right-wing Christians sitting on their wallet-protecting hands while opposing government healthcare for the poor and needy?
*
Are Right-Wing Christians Christian or Just Right-Wing?
Monday, October 5, 2009
Obama-Haters. Your Slip is Showing!
Rush Hannibecks and their hate-mongering ilk dropped all pretense of civility, principle and patriotic loyalty when the 2012 Olympics was awarded to Rio de Janeiro. Right-Wing think tanks erupted into applause. Rush Limbaugh jumped up and down in giddy joy as he chortled “The Ego Has Landed!”
*
These hypocritical vipers, who claim their opposition to Obama isn’t personal, but based on “Principle” were silent to the last one when George Bush voiced his support for Chicago’s Olympic bid.
*
Said Bush, “They say that the Olympics will come to Chicago if we are fortunate enough to be selected. It’s coming to America. I can’t think of a better city to represent the United States than Chicago. This country supports your bid strongly."
*
The Rush Hannibecks, who wrap themselves in the flag and self inflated patriotic pomposity, rejoice gleefully when the United States loses the Olympic bid. American looses and they give standing ovations. For this they have no defense. What kind of twisted gutter-dwellers claim patriotism, while laughing, applauding and cheering when the country their lips claim – loses? The people who justify themselves by listening to their broadcasts are little better.
*
They hid behind their lies, but their true nature burst out in such brilliant clarity, they can hide their true intent no longer.
*
These hypocritical vipers, who claim their opposition to Obama isn’t personal, but based on “Principle” were silent to the last one when George Bush voiced his support for Chicago’s Olympic bid.
*
Said Bush, “They say that the Olympics will come to Chicago if we are fortunate enough to be selected. It’s coming to America. I can’t think of a better city to represent the United States than Chicago. This country supports your bid strongly."
*
The Rush Hannibecks, who wrap themselves in the flag and self inflated patriotic pomposity, rejoice gleefully when the United States loses the Olympic bid. American looses and they give standing ovations. For this they have no defense. What kind of twisted gutter-dwellers claim patriotism, while laughing, applauding and cheering when the country their lips claim – loses? The people who justify themselves by listening to their broadcasts are little better.
*
They hid behind their lies, but their true nature burst out in such brilliant clarity, they can hide their true intent no longer.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Where Have You Gone Henry Bellmon? Our State Turns Its Lonely Eyes to You.
I loved the times, when as a child, the family would sit in my grandparents’ living room. It was customarily after a holiday get-together. Dinner dished had been washed and put away. Grandma often passed a box of homemade candy and talk would go to “back in the day”.
*
Ancestor stories and legends from days gone by were told with relish and glowing descriptors. We knew every one by heart, but loved to hear them again: the times Grandpa and Uncle Melvin would stir up a skunk’s nest every time they didn’t want to go to school, the day Great Grandfather Jackman caught Grandpa and Uncle Melvin running around the yard in the schoolmarm’s bloomers, or the time Grandfather saw Teddy Roosevelt and got to shake the President’s hand.
*
We also heard great stories of steadfast men and women who took courageous stands for the right, whether it was popular or not. People who suffered hardship, personal loss and ridicule because they stood for the right, not the popular. As my family was keen on honesty, the stories never became exaggerated or changed. We knew they were stories to believe.
*
At he end of the evening, Grandfather or Grandmother would bring the benediction with the blessing, “Well, those were the days. We could sure use people like that today”.
*
I felt that way when I heard the sad news that former Governor and Senator, Henry Bellmon had lost a courageous fight with Parkinson’s disease. Henry Bellmon was just plain good. He was a statesman, not a politician and refused to walk in the sewer of back room politics. He was polite, forthright, honest and always tried to do what he felt was right. He refused to settle for political expedience when his morals demanded thee right decision. Shunning the hardliners he took difficult stands in voting to return the Panama Canal to Panama and pushing through monumental Public Education legislation which stands yet today as the Legislature’s historical public education high watermark.
*
Uppermost, Governor Bellmon was a man of deep spiritual faith. Refusing to wear his religion on his sleeve, his beliefs were never prostituted for political gain. Simply put, he lived his values, he didn’t pimp them for votes.
*
Naturally these traits, his moderate views, private religious values and sincere personal respect for philosophical opponents alienated him from his own party. Aborted by right-wing fanatics, he was shunned by those who had so much to learn. It sad that Democrats are in no position to cast stones across the aisle.
*
Saddest of all is that Henry Bellmon’s life takes its place among the ancestor stories of great statesmen, “Back in the day.” Mr. Bellmon, we already miss you.
*
Ancestor stories and legends from days gone by were told with relish and glowing descriptors. We knew every one by heart, but loved to hear them again: the times Grandpa and Uncle Melvin would stir up a skunk’s nest every time they didn’t want to go to school, the day Great Grandfather Jackman caught Grandpa and Uncle Melvin running around the yard in the schoolmarm’s bloomers, or the time Grandfather saw Teddy Roosevelt and got to shake the President’s hand.
*
We also heard great stories of steadfast men and women who took courageous stands for the right, whether it was popular or not. People who suffered hardship, personal loss and ridicule because they stood for the right, not the popular. As my family was keen on honesty, the stories never became exaggerated or changed. We knew they were stories to believe.
*
At he end of the evening, Grandfather or Grandmother would bring the benediction with the blessing, “Well, those were the days. We could sure use people like that today”.
*
I felt that way when I heard the sad news that former Governor and Senator, Henry Bellmon had lost a courageous fight with Parkinson’s disease. Henry Bellmon was just plain good. He was a statesman, not a politician and refused to walk in the sewer of back room politics. He was polite, forthright, honest and always tried to do what he felt was right. He refused to settle for political expedience when his morals demanded thee right decision. Shunning the hardliners he took difficult stands in voting to return the Panama Canal to Panama and pushing through monumental Public Education legislation which stands yet today as the Legislature’s historical public education high watermark.
*
Uppermost, Governor Bellmon was a man of deep spiritual faith. Refusing to wear his religion on his sleeve, his beliefs were never prostituted for political gain. Simply put, he lived his values, he didn’t pimp them for votes.
*
Naturally these traits, his moderate views, private religious values and sincere personal respect for philosophical opponents alienated him from his own party. Aborted by right-wing fanatics, he was shunned by those who had so much to learn. It sad that Democrats are in no position to cast stones across the aisle.
*
Saddest of all is that Henry Bellmon’s life takes its place among the ancestor stories of great statesmen, “Back in the day.” Mr. Bellmon, we already miss you.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Freedom Lost a Champion and Friend
Mary Travers, sexy symbol of folk music and tireless conscience of civil and human rights finally lost her heroic battle against cancer. The outspoken, harmonic champion of justice, freedom and love between our brothers and sisters died at the age of 72. Never flagging in her zeal for righteous causes, she had sung against Apartheid in Africa, the War in Vietnam, worker exploitation from coal mines to tomato fields and hatred around the globe.
*
Mary joined Peter and Paul at the dawn of the 60’s. “Blowin’ In the Wind”, “If I had a Hammer” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” engraved their permanent spot in the American folk tradition as early as 1962/63. Forty years later they were still on the cutting edge with “Have You Been to Jail for Justice”, “Jesus on the Wire” and “Don’t Laugh at Me.” Perhaps their best know song, “Puff the Magic Dragon” that was a classic triple entendre which told of a little boy and a dragon, innocent imagination or smoking a ‘doobie.’ (Take your pick.)
*
The group’s artistic genius was displayed by the immense variety in their musical message. Humor, folktales, moral stories, funny sing-a-longs, seasonal classics and themes of protest were all within their 20 album repertoire. Few groups have had had the ability to elicit rapt attention, anger, motivation, laughter and tears – sometimes all within a single album.
*
Mary Travers, who spoke the least of the three on stage, was still sharp with her wit, and definitely the one who took center stage in the eye of the camera and audience. (She was even the role model for Jim Henson’s blond singer in his Muppet’s Band.) Personally close to each other, PP&M’s chemistry permeated the stage, their public protests and most of all, their music.
*
I shall never forget the concert I attended in Tulsa’s Brady Theatre. Packed with hippies, used-to-be-hippies, three piece suits, moms, dads, grandparents and the curious we recalled dreams of the past and were rekindled in our commitment that that dream must never die. We stood with tear-streaked faces and raised our hands in honor as we joined in a spiritual pledge that we would remain true to “the hammer of justice, the bell of freedom and song of love between our brothers and sisters – all over this land!”
*
God bless you Mary Travers. I celebrate your life. I weep at your passing. I laugh at your smiles. I promise I will never let the dream die!
*
Mary joined Peter and Paul at the dawn of the 60’s. “Blowin’ In the Wind”, “If I had a Hammer” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” engraved their permanent spot in the American folk tradition as early as 1962/63. Forty years later they were still on the cutting edge with “Have You Been to Jail for Justice”, “Jesus on the Wire” and “Don’t Laugh at Me.” Perhaps their best know song, “Puff the Magic Dragon” that was a classic triple entendre which told of a little boy and a dragon, innocent imagination or smoking a ‘doobie.’ (Take your pick.)
*
The group’s artistic genius was displayed by the immense variety in their musical message. Humor, folktales, moral stories, funny sing-a-longs, seasonal classics and themes of protest were all within their 20 album repertoire. Few groups have had had the ability to elicit rapt attention, anger, motivation, laughter and tears – sometimes all within a single album.
*
Mary Travers, who spoke the least of the three on stage, was still sharp with her wit, and definitely the one who took center stage in the eye of the camera and audience. (She was even the role model for Jim Henson’s blond singer in his Muppet’s Band.) Personally close to each other, PP&M’s chemistry permeated the stage, their public protests and most of all, their music.
*
I shall never forget the concert I attended in Tulsa’s Brady Theatre. Packed with hippies, used-to-be-hippies, three piece suits, moms, dads, grandparents and the curious we recalled dreams of the past and were rekindled in our commitment that that dream must never die. We stood with tear-streaked faces and raised our hands in honor as we joined in a spiritual pledge that we would remain true to “the hammer of justice, the bell of freedom and song of love between our brothers and sisters – all over this land!”
*
God bless you Mary Travers. I celebrate your life. I weep at your passing. I laugh at your smiles. I promise I will never let the dream die!
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