Sunrise, Sunset

Everyone has a favorite teacher or two growing up. I have a handful of gems that I look back on very fondly. People who treated me like they saw something special in me and wanted to help me achieve great things…

Mrs. Little and I shared our favorite books after school. She was my 5th and 6th grade teacher. I recently visited my old elementary school in Woodland and it looks more or less the same, just smaller like everyone always says. Wandering around the empty campus on a Friday afternoon I was stopped by a current teacher who appeared to be close to my age. She questioned why I was wandering around an elementary school and I explained I’d graduated from there 25 years ago. She got very excited and wanted to show me all the new things, the amphitheater that was flattened and the new multipurpose room in its place, the tetherball courts they are taking out this summer (no!) and the new soccer field. I only wanted to know what had become of Mrs. Little. I learned she is now teaching in another city nearby. That made me happy. I believe one of her sons still has a library book of mine that is seriously overdue.

Mrs. Castle was my core teacher in 8th grade. I was a new kid at a new school for the second year in a row and wasn’t making friends easily. She purposely pronounced my name wrong every day for a week until on Friday a girl named Aimee exasperatedly said, “Mrs. Castle, it’s not that hard, her last name is Mac-in-tire. Really, it’s not hard.” Mrs. Castle winked at me, agreed, and never got it wrong again. Neither did anyone else. She encouraged us all to write and gave us some of my favorite assignments. My most memorable was a movie review of the Gregory Peck classic, To Kill a Mockingbird (which I recall I titled “How To Kill a Book” and upon further review, I’d like to issue a retraction).

In college my favorites were Dr. Madison and Dr. Merrifield (Andy, really), and they both made my little world a lot bigger. Dr. Madison taught me that a dot on the map (Burundi?) is just as important to its people as any in the largest empires. Everywhere is home to someone and home is always worth fighting for. Andy was just Andy, the sounding board for all of projects, my path for my future and biggest critic of the pajamas I wore to his morning classes. My only regret there is not being more open and expressing myself more because I think he was interested in what I had to say, but my shyness won every battle. At graduation he told my parents that I’d been a wonderful, thoughtful student but that I was too quiet and hadn’t found my voice (for the record my step-dad couldn’t have disagreed more about me being quiet).

This brings me to the big one; the teacher who taught me the most about myself and probably wasn’t even trying. Mr. Schroeder was the band director at Loara High School for as long as anyone I know can remember. This is a man who was able to make hundreds of kids arrive early for 6:45am practice, in the misty fog on a cold morning (ok, in So Cal so it wasn’t that cold). There were days we stayed after school until the stars started appearing the sky. We marched in the blazing sun, in the dirt, in the mud, in high heels (!), in the most uncomfortable uniforms ever created (we were rarely cute and the Zorba getups were the absolute worst), and we gave up every weekend for the priviledge to do so. With a very few exceptions we never came in first, always took home the little trophies (if we took one home at all – and court doesn’t count), and still we gave him hours and hours of our precious adolescence. We rode in busses to competitions all over Southern California and to this day I still remember secrets I learned on the ride to Mount Carmel in my sophomore year. In a time in my life when I didn’t have a well-developed father figure in my daily life, Mr. Schroeder was always there. He was my conscience (that man had some serious rules!), and he forced me to make decisions about what I really wanted, pushed back when he thought I was making the wrong decisions, then commended me for sticking to them. I still have a bond with every BG I’ve found since then that comes from the shared experiences and how much we loved every bit of it, even when we hated it. There really were blood, sweat, tears, a separated collar bone, and a concussion that knocked me out of AP English my senior year – and it was all worth it.

Mr. Schroeder retired last week and over 100 former students showed up at his retirement party (with a little warning I would have flown across the country to be there). I really can’t imagine how he can be leaving as he was in his 40s when I knew him and I’m still a kid, aren’t I? Realizing almost 20 years have passed is harder than I thought. Seeing what that means to that school, the program, those kids – that really made my heart hurt a little bit. I have no idea how the new generation of BGs have fared because like everyone does, I grew up and moved on, leaving Mr. Schroeder right where I left him to watch over the new kids, the practices, the initiations, the uniforms, the run-throughs (let's do it again!), the camps, trips, competitions – the next waves of BGs. I was lucky to have him in my life and know those kids lost something last week. I congratulate him on a career of actually reaching kids and making them care about something bigger than themselves, and more importantly, each other. Thank you Mr. Schroeder, from the bottom of my 17-year-old heart.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

Merry Christmas Everyone!



My new year's resolution will be to stop by here more often. In the meantime enjoy the boys from IU. My family has deep roots back to Indiana. I can't take credit for them, but I can make sure everyone gets to enjoy them.

Mary Had a Little Lamb

My NC friends know that this is a wonderful area to live in. If I ever have children of my own I want them to be raised in an area like this. If you live here you know the pros and cons (weather, friendliness, proximity to mountains, beaches, sports, theater, blah, blah, blah). Where else can you have 80 degrees of steam and then snow in the very same week? If you don't live here you won't be swayed by a few glowing remarks. You just have to experience this place to understand.

My CA friends think I live in some God-forsaken area where I may be the only person who knows how to read, conjugate a verb correctly or count to 100. I think when Kim and her family arrive next month they will be happily surprised to learn that I have indoor plumbing...and shocked to learn I have more bathrooms in my house than they do in theirs.

So, last week my coworker and I are playing the "this headline says it all game" (some headlines on CNN and MSNBC just don't need to be read further) when one pops up on CNN that said something like "Man Arrested with 80 Sheep in House." We laughed at it and went on with our day. Later I learn he lives in Apex (a suburb of Raleigh). No wonder my friends think I'm nuts.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

New Year's Eve has never been my favorite holiday.  It just has too much responsibility.  When you are young, there is this big built up expectation to go out and get crazy.  More often than not, that didn't really work out.  Don't get me wrong -- I have had some great ones -- but I also had many that involved arguments and misunderstandings and tears.  Not the best way to wipe the slate clean and start over.

 

Then there's the whole kissing thing.  If you have someone to kiss at midnight it can be a sweet, romantic moment.  If you don't, it can be heartbreakingly lonely.  You can be surrounded by people you love (or maybe just people you really like) and if there isn't one there just for you...well, sometimes it requires a "buck up camper" moment or two.

 

This year, as I have in several years past, I'll be heading out to the RBC Center to watch a hockey game.  I love this developing tradition (this is my 4th year) because even though it's just another game, the atmosphere is more potent and you are "doing something" on New Year's. 

 

Being the nostalgic person that I am, there will be thoughts of nights spent at the Golden Horseshoe (is it still open?) or in an apartment high over Central Park.  A night in Kelly Henderson's living room and a hotel room watching the sun rise in Virginia Beach.  I welcomed in the new millennium with 18 thousand others...and James Taylor.

 

Lots of memories made and many more in the new year.  I hope wherever you are or whatever you are doing tonight that you are going to have a good time.  And I hope you have someone to kiss at midnight.

It's Not Easy Being Green

So, I've not been writing much lately, but it's not because I don't have anything to say. Work has been extra-challenging for the last month, I was dealing with some minor medical stuff, and I've spent the last several days away from home. I've noticed most of my other friends with blogs haven't written much lately either, so I'm not alone!

I found this cute test -- it seems to be true, about me anyway. I'll write much more soon -- hope y'all are staying cool.

You Are Scooter

Brainy and knowledgable, you are the perfect sidekick.You're always willing to lend a helping hand.In any big event or party, you're the one who keeps things going."15 seconds to showtime!"

The Muppet Personality Test

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Anyone who knows me well knows I am a big old geek about figure skating.  I can admit it -- I know far too much about who the coaches are, where everyone trains, and old school Russian grudges that go back for decades.  I know the difference between a toe loop, an axel and a salchow (hell, I know how to spell salchow).  It's just something I've always loved.

 

Last week I went to see Stars on Ice -- it's my favorite day of the year.  This was my 10th show -- it has changed so much over the years but never disappoints.  There is a moment in every show that something so beautiful happens that no matter how my life is, I am so glad to be there in that moment.

 

The Olympic year is a special one.  You have your favorites and you watch them succeed or live to compete another day.  Today is that day.  The World Championships are this week and I'm spending a perfect night watching some spectacular programs (Evan Lysacek) and some devastating tumbles (Johnny Weir), while also watching the NCAA tournament (Duke just lost, Memphis just won).  I'm wearing my fuzzy slippers and my flannel pjs with a fire going in the fireplace and a stack of magazines to catch up my reading.

 

As much as I know about skating, I just do not understand Stephane Lambiel's costume.  Surely it's got to mean something -- surely the Swiss can't be that fashion challenged.

Devil In A Blue Dress

The madness has begun and I have to say I get pulled in a little more every year.  Before I moved to a place that considers itself the center of the college basketball universe, I had only a peripheral knowledge of what this time of year was about.  Now, when I hear a band playing Devil in a Blue Dress, I know Duke must be playing well.  Sweet Caroline does the same for Carolina -- hey Beth, is there a song for State?  A note for my Pac10 area friends:  Duke is a evil as USC, Carolina (UNC Chapel Hill) is like UCLA and NC State is like maybe, any Cal State school, but all of them are within about 30 miles of each other and there are rivalries that pre-date the mouse setting up shop in an orange grove.  Here, generations of people have deep-seeded, inherited hatred, at least a couple of days a year.  None of them are more pronounced than the days of the Duke-Carolina games or the ACC tournament.  My friend Beth even takes the Friday of the ACC tournament off every year to celebrate the games like her own personal Super Bowl.  It's infectious and it's fun and for me, it's a good warm up for what is yet to come when my Canes start the playoffs in April.

 

The brackets will be announced later today and I'll spend the next 3 days tearing my hair out, trying to figure out how far Gonzaga might go and how to pick the games where both teams are unknown to me.  I know that the prevailing opinion is that you shouldn't pick a school because you went there, or your parents went there, or your best friends second cousin went there, but when those choices include Maryland and UCLA, how can I cross them out?  The first round is a crap shoot -- once I've picked all my obvious choices (ACC and Pac 10 schools, NC schools, California schools, all the remaining #1s, #2s, #3s & #4s) I start with the weird tie-breakers -- directional schools, those that start with vowels, or which mascot would win in a brawl.  Wish me luck!

How Much is That Doggy in the Window?

This is not going to be a blog about my dog. I swear. But on occasion there will be stories. Sometimes she does something that is so darn cute that I can't help wanting to talk about her. I have a guest bedroom upstairs in my townhouse and it faces the street where I park my car. I know she sits up there most of the day, looking out the window and probably seeing nothing (because dogs are supposed to have really, really bad vision) but she seems very happy there. She has 3 other beds of her own, 2 couches, a doghouse...but she spends all her time on that bed, looking out the window. That is, until I get home. I put my key in the door when I get home from work each day and ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump -- she races down the stairs to see me, doing her happy dance and wagging her body because she has no tail. She basically tap dances across the kitchen. It is the best feeling in the world -- knowing she is that happy to see me. I know she would do the same thing for a burglar too, but I don't care. Today's happy dance is for me and I'm just as happy to be home to hang out with her.