Category Archives: Writer’s Block

Written words on everything else.

A Poem for Granddad

Granddad,

We are proud to say that we are your
Future. Your spirit is now in good hands.
We are the living life lessons imparted
From a very special, resilient man.

We value your industrious example,
And your inventive approach.
In every conversation,
You reflected the shared dignity
Of whomever you engrossed.

Granddad,
We are now the speakers of your stories,
Listeners who recorded your treasured past.
We captured every compelling message,
From a life that was both varied and vast.

You told us stories of the circus.
A Depression-era runaway,
Venturing just to be.
You told us how you jumped from planes.
Circling in on the earth,
Young and free.
You told us how you escaped the Ardennes.
And left the battlefield
Questioning the hurt,
That war forces us to see.

Granddad,
Do not worry, do not fear.
The love amongst us all
Will always keep you near.
We built many memories together,
Like you built your family and
Riverview store.
They are vast and lasting,
Touching us all to the core.

Together,
We rode in your blue truck,
And played on your warehouse floor.
Together,
We watched basketball games,
And cheered for a Blue Devil score.
Together,
We walked the sandy beaches
And ventured on an Italian tour.
Together,
We did so many things
We had never done before.

Together,
We charmed Charm City,
As you searched the Inner Harbor
For the perfect gift.
Wanting to buy something special
For the sweet wife that you missed.

Granddad,
Head of our family tree.
We couldn’t have had a better
Promoter, teacher or friend.
You showed us love,
And all that it means.

We are proud to say that we are your
Future. Do not fret,
Your lovely wife is in good hands.
We are stewards of your teachings,
Passing on all that you helped us understand.

Granddad,
We love you.

1968: The Year the Country Broke

D-Day InvasionMy appreciate for all things history comes naturally. I’ve always been drawn to stories from the past. Perhaps it stems from the tales my Granddad often shares from his World War II days. The fact that I can draw a straight line from his surviving the Battle of the Bulge to my own upbringing mystifies me to this day.  Looking back at history also requires one to have an opinion. My Granddad is never shy to give his viewpoint about what was right and wrong about that war.  From his admiration of Eisenhower to his disdain for Patton, he emphasized the need to go beyond simple glorification for those that called the shots and sent young men to die. For instance, he is often critical of the senseless brutality of the D-Day invasion. Too many historians take for granted the lives that were permanently disrupted in that first wave of Nazi gunfire. In doing so, my Granddad argues, they offer very little counterpoint to the operation’s necessity.

Williams classroomOn this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I am again thinking about history and that line I can trace backwards. As a teacher I enjoyed helping students discover the historical line that connects them to the nation’s past.  Unlike my Granddad, I kept my opinions out of the classroom conversation in favor of giving the students the forum to say what needed to be said. I never put bumper stickers on my car or let them know my political leanings. As a teacher, I felt it was necessary to allow students to test the waters of critical thinking without my interference.  Besides I always found that, with a little prodding and devil’s advocacy, students would cover all the angles when debating historical issues and events.  From the timing of the Emancipation Proclamation to the dropping of the bomb on Hiroshima, my students always gave their all to prove a point.

Only once did I break my class rule about the brokering of opinions. It came in an ad-libbed discussion of 1968.  A year that opened with the Tet Offensive and the mounting failure of Vietnam. It was a year when political protests turned violent and Chicago’s Democratic National Convention was cracked open with police bully clubs. The year Richard Nixon was elected by one of the thinnest margins in American history. And most importantly, 1968 was the year that brought an end to the much-needed leadership of Dr. King and Robert F. Kennedy.

Put simply, I told my students that 1968 was the most pivotal year in United States political history. It represented a fork in the line. The country could have gone in one direction but instead events on the ground forced it to choose another. I talked about what both men stood for. I talked about King’s Poor People’s Campaign and his discussion of issues, like Vietnam, that went beyond his advocacy for racial justice.  I talked about Kennedy’s platform for President.  How it sought, in its own way, to mediate the impending crises that were about to rock the nation.

I am today announcing my candidacy for the presidency of the United States. I do not run for the presidency merely to oppose any man, but to propose new policies. I run because I am convinced that this country is on a perilous course and because I have such strong feelings about what must be done, and I feel that I’m obliged to do all I can.” -Robert F. Kennedy

AR 7993-B (crop)I told my students that their deaths ensured that the nation would stay on the more perilous course.  A course we can all trace our current national upbringing back to. And while their martyrdom has inspired many to look beyond themselves and ask how they might be of service to the nation’s greater good, their deaths represent the fact that we have lost a portion of our moral center.

That moral center was firmly established in our addressing the nation’s ills head on. We combatted the Great Depression by striking at the heart economic injustice. We helped preserve democracy during World War II by leading the world against tyranny. This made our nation a beacon of light for the world to see and, in turn, emulate. We then expanded on that light when our nation took up the struggle against segregation and enshrined an individual’s civil and political rights into law. That light, however, became more fleeting with the deaths of Dr. King and Robert Kennedy. I told my students our country has searched for its moral center ever since. On occasion, we find it. We do the right thing. It seems, however, that center doesn’t quite hold any more.

Booby and Ethel Kennedy. MLK Funeral.At the tail-end of my diatribe, I caught myself. I paused. I had let myself do too much of the talking. I had let my opinions flow as freely as my Granddad does during our Sunday get-togethers. I must admit it felt good.

It was then that I decided to return the stage back to the history makers themselves. I asked my students, “Did you know Robert Kennedy delivered the eulogy at Martin Luther King’s funeral?” They responded that they had not.  I told them I was an admirer of the speech but that I preferred the unscripted words Kennedy spoke the night he found out about the assassination. It reveals him to be a remarkable and poetic man. I played them the YouTube clip (an amazing teacher tool) of that lonely night’s remarks. My students were captivated. They saw the fleeting light I spoke of Kennedy’s fatigued face, a man truly devastated by the news. They then heard the echoes of that light in his conciliatory and heart-felt words.

“What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness, but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice towards those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black” – Robert F. Kennedy

MLK monumentOn this day of  Martin Luther King remembrance I choose to trace myself back to that moment in 1968. The moment encapsulated by those words. They serve as a challenge to us all to remember that we need not be divided. A reminder that we can rediscover our moral center by working together. By loving one another. It may seem fleeting at times, but we can still connect with others despite our perceived differences. It is the hallmark of union. Jefferson, Lincoln, King, Kennedy (and many others) improved this country by focusing on the promise of togetherness and equality. We can, too. All one has to do is trace the historical line backwards that connects them to the men and women that populate the past. We should all be inspired by the progress that they have made on our behalf. With inspiration as our guide, we should in turn add our own contribution to the national timeline, helping it move forward as we on occasion look back.


 

Thank You Doctors Without Borders

I recently wrote about my family’s tradition of charitable giving.  As an addendum to that article, I’d like to share a letter/ video Doctors Without Borders sent to me via email. It basically covers the impact of their efforts, all made possible by the kindness of others.

It is my hope that we will see less conflict in the coming year, but the prospects for that already appear grim. It is heartening to know that my contributions are helping reduce the pain of those who find themselves in harm’s way.

I count my lucky stars that I am blessed with a supportive network of loving family and terrific friends. The crises I have had to live through are small in comparison to what some people on this Earth face. For this reason, I do not measure my fortune in terms of dollars and cents.  I have won the lottery in my life countless times over.  I have great parents, one really awesome brother and some really great friends and colleagues.

My ultimate lottery winnings, however, center around what I come home to every night.  A loving wife and a beautiful baby boy.  With that in mind, I will always count myself as a member of the fortunate ones.  I will continue to celebrate my terrific luck by loving those I’m with and giving to those who are without.

Here is the thank you message I referred to at the top of the page.  Each doctor, nurse and support staff member who works with the patients in the video are a verifiable blessing to humanity. May God watch over and protect them in the coming year:

Thank you.

In 2013, you helped our doctors, nurses, logisticians and other staff have a powerful impact in the lives of people all over the world, many of whom had nowhere else to turn.

I hope you’ll watch this short video to see just how far your support has gone.

It is only because of independent support from donors like you that we are able to be in so many places where others cannot go – from the most remote islands of the Philippines to the frontlines in Syria and South Sudan. In these places and in more than 70 countries around the world, the medical care you make possible has meant the difference between life and death for hundreds of thousands of people.

I know our teams will be tested by new crises and challenges in the months to come and I couldn’t be more grateful to have you at our side as we do whatever it takes to bring lifesaving care to the people who need it most.

On behalf of our entire staff, I wish you health and happiness in 2014, and thank you once again for everything you do to support our efforts to save lives and end suffering.

Gratefully,

Sophie Delaunay, Executive Director

Sophie Delaunay
Executive Director

A Christmas Memory: A Dad’s Tale

Good story tellers never tell all their stories all at once.  For this reason, I will be sharing several Christmas memories leading up to the big day.  May all your families find peace and happiness in the New Year.

simple treeMy Dad, Brother and I are often referred to by other family members as “the boys.” The boys have enjoyed Christmas in many places.  We have celebrated in a tiny apartment across from my brother’s old middle school.  Our hearts forever closer than the walls that surrounded our merriment.  We have even spent Christmas in an old yellow VW bus. Hurling down the highway towards Grandma’s house, opening presents along the way.

Our favorite place to celebrate Christmas is Reidsville. Every year we boys share our holiday spirit at our Grandparent’s house. We celebrate with our Uncle Steve, Aunt Mary Lynn, Cousin Kellie and Cousin Neal. The whole family band marveling at the blessing of family as our Grands entertain us all.  Now that band has grown to include spouses and great grandkids. Needless to say, the merriment multiplies infinitely with the company of our youngest celebrants.

Of all the places we have celebrated Christmas, there is one setting that is truly special. It is special not for place but instead for the holiday memories forged there. The year my Dad bought his first house, we enjoyed a holiday that had all the hallmarks of a classic Christmas.  And like all great Christmases it centered around the securing of our new home’s first tree.

“You have to have a Christmas tree!” my Brother and I exclaimed in unison as we arrived on my Dad’s doorstep. With those magic words we coaxed our Pops to take us out to add the last essential decoration to our new home.

The three of us piled into the old suburban just hours before Christmas day and headed out to find the perfect tree. My Dad never let on that this was not the most ideal time to find such a tree. I suspect my Brother knew. I, however, was the innocent, gullible believer. My confidence ran sky-high.

Alas, once we hit the road my confidence took a hit.  All the tree traders had packed up and left town.  In their wake were giant worn patches of grass and empty parking lots.  If you looked close enough you could still see the specter of smiling families and happy hucksters.  We were too late.

Despite all this my Dad never showed discouragement. My Brother never signaled to me that our endeavors were a lost cause.  And so we persevered.

Then came the miracle. One more lonely parking lot. One more missed opportunity. One more Christmas tree!

The tree laid smack dab in the middle of that empty lot as if waiting for rescue. In unison we rejoiced! We would have our Christmas tree after all.  With giddy delight we all jumped out of the suburban and surrounded the tree.  We took in the moment. We marveled at our luck.  It was a scrappy looking thing. Not too far off from the tree Charlie Brown rescued in Charles Schultz’s classic tale. And like that my Dad scooped the tree up and secured it to the roof of our car.  With our spirits again riding high, we made our way back home.

Finding the tree, however, was just the beginning.  It was the catalyst of some of my fondest Christmas memories.  My Dad rescued some Christmas lights from an old box. He found some ornaments in an old tin. My brother and I cut out snowflakes and strung together popcorn. We attached garbage ties to cereal box prizes and G.I. Joes. We hung them right next to the few Christmas balls my Dad had managed to scrounge up. And of course we added a make-shift star to top it all.

When we stood back, the tree was no longer the scrappy loner we rescued. Transformed, it glittered in ideal form. There would never be another tree like it. In the future we would not press our luck when it came to finding a tree. In the future we would add more traditional ornaments. No future tree, however, would resemble the miracle we had erected in our new home. To this day I do not remember what presents I opened that Christmas. What I do vividly remember is the feeling of us all working together to make our quaint little tree shine.

Little G OrnamentThat first home has long been sold, but it still occupies a special place in my heart.  It was a place where the boys grew up. Dad, brother and me. Learning from one another.  Loving one another. Celebrating birthdays, graduations and all sorts of moments in between.  But in many ways it all started with that first Christmas tree. We were bound together by the miracle. The miracle of family. The miracle of togetherness. The miracle of a life worth living.

We continue to celebrate Christmas in a variety of new and exciting places.  From the new homes made by my Dad, Brother and me to the grand gathering in Reidsville. We come together.  We break bread. We open presents. We hug and laugh. We remember loved ones long gone. We, the boys, celebrate Christmas.

A Christmas Memory: A Mother’s Story

Good story tellers never tell all their stories all at once.  For this reason, I will be sharing several Christmas memories leading up to the big day.  May all your families find peace and happiness in the New Year.

Stocking and chimneyAfter the luminaries along the driveway had been lit. After little Katie dog was secure behind her fence. Secret laundry room shots taken. The turkey and ham cooked to perfection. After my Uncle Clyde lead the neighborly gathering in prayer. My Aunt Lollie’s dressing finally served.

After people filled their plates and broke bread.  After everyone who came finally went home.  Silent Night echoed throughout midnight mass. The candle wax cooled and an empty house welcomed us home.  After all of this, my mother prepared us for bed. She prepared us for Santa. She prepared us for life. She read us  A Christmas Memory.

My brother and I nestled in with my mom on the living room couch. Sometimes on my double bed.  Santa’s milk and cookies set.  The story began.

Mom read to us Truman Capote’s holiday story about Buddy.  Young Buddy and his dog named Queenie. Buddy who had a caretaker and sweet, old friend named Sook.  Mom read to us about the pair making whiskey-soaked fruitcake. She told us about how one of those 31 fruitcakes went to Franklin Roosevelt.  How the White House stationary received in return connected Buddy and Sook to the world beyond their tiny, impoverished kitchen. The tale of fruitcake connected my Mom, brother and me to Buddy and Sook.  It connected us to Christmas. It connected us to the prayers of the outside world.

Mom read to us about the chopping down of Buddy and Sook’s Christmas tree. The cutting of a tree that healed the wounds inflicted on Sook by scorning relatives.  A tree, according to Sook, that was too unique to sell.  In truth, we are all like that tree.  Special in our own way. Precious to those who love us most. Not worth betraying, no matter the cost.

Mom read to us about the pair making kites for one another.  How both Buddy and Sook longed to buy something grander. In the end they settled on gifts crafted from their own hands.  Presents infused with the heart’s love. Surely these handmade kites still fly high, intertwined like the purest of friendships. Mom told us about one such friendship. The friendship of Buddy and Sook.

Unfortunately, people separate. Sook and Buddy separate. Life separates us all. But memories hold us together. They are pure. They are simple. They are ideal.

I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.

Santa figurineMy mom reads this story to us every Christmas Eve. Year after year the tale holds us three together. Mother, brother and me.  Christmas Eve holds us together. No matter the distance we must travel. No matter what disappointments a year might bring. We gather with family and friends. Love and fellowship renew us. It binds us tight. We will always have one another. We will always have our Christmas memories.