While chaperoning the homecoming dance at Colerain High School, I realized the most dramatic dance I was witnessing, was a dance of friendship.
The evening began with the arrival of the students wearing outfits that sparkled almost as much as their anticipation which bounced around the helium balloon-filled air. As a teacher, it is a treat to see the students in the strobe-light of a social function like this. Even the ones that may have given me a heavy dose of teenage attitude over a missing assignment’s penalty the day before, run over to me at the dance, seeking approval of their beautiful new dress. It’s also fun to see who is friends with whom. It’s easy to assume the student who sits in my class knows only the other students from that class. School-wide functions make it possible to see the chains of friendship that extend way past the block schedule of a typical school day. Taking my place in the back of the decorated gymnasium, I watched the interactions taking place amid the pulsating sound-track of their generation. I watched as individuals would arrive without their group, desperately hunting for where he or she belonged. I smiled as groups of students circled around each other mirroring one another, as if they were watching themselves in the reflection of their friends. And in so many ways they were. My gaze was caught by two sturdy teenage boys who began dancing a goofy fast dance across the back of the room, laughing as they mocked each others’ moves. I couldn’t help but to wonder how they found someone so like themselves in this great big world. Then, I looked over and saw two other teenaged young men who had obviously practiced the choreography of their dance for hours and were now debuting it for an appreciative audience of clapping young ladies. Again, I smiled and thought, how great that they, too found each other. And in the middle of the gym, swayed the others, all packed together, being as fun-loving and goofy as possible, having the time of their lives. At just the right time, they had found each other. That night reminded me how amazing it is that we find the people we find in our lives. Sometimes we forget how incredible it is that we have one very good friend, let alone others, who like what we like, laugh when we laugh, cry when we cry. And when we are truly blessed, we find people who not only don’t make us feel silly when we act that way, but they’re also more than willing to act silly right there beside us. Dancing to our own beat may be important. But finding people who can stay in step with us makes this big dance of life even better.
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Delmar Gethers loved his garden. For years he had a garden that would put other gardeners to shame. It would put others to shame except for that fact that even more than he loved gardening, Delmar loved sharing the fruits (and vegetables!) of his labors with everyone. And he shared and shared.
Sharing was a big part of Delmar’s life. After losing his wife, his “Babe,” of 59 years, many expected him to fade quickly thereafter. Their love was just one of those you hear of where when one goes and the other is soon to follow. But somehow Delmar carried on. He fondly spoke of his “Babe” and how he would be ready to meet her again whenever the good Lord decided it was his time. He continued on, keeping up his house, his garden, his life. He mowed the grass throughout his eighties and tended that garden in the spring and summer, even shoveling snow in the winter. When he was asked how he was, he would always cheerfully answer, “I can’t complain. No one wants to hear complaints, anyhow.” And he never did complain either. The closest he ever got to admitting aging wasn’t a walk in the park was when he once admitted, at the age of 93, “Compared to the eighties, these nineties are a whole new ballgame.” One might conclude that his gardening know-how taught him what he needed to know in order to age so gracefully. From his garden he learned, you have to plan ahead. If you are expecting something good today, you better have planted the necessary seeds early enough. From his garden he learned, it takes a lot of hard work. It’s never easy, but it’s always worth it. From his garden he learned, things don’t always go the way you intended. Sometimes, no matter how well you planned and tended your garden, the other elements affect the outcome more than you wanted. From his garden he learned, patience. You really do reap what you sow. From his garden he learned, you need to enjoy what you have today. And Delmar Gethers did just that. This morning, the good Lord decided it was his time. So at the age of 94, he is once again united with his “Babe”. We couldn’t be happier for him. The tears we shed now are simply a gentle rain, and every gardener knows how beneficial rain can be. Yes, Delmar Gethers loved his garden. But he loved his family even more. And we’d have to say those seeds were the best seeds he ever planted.k here to edit. The sight of the horse and buggy on the country road awakened the interests of my kids that the ninety-minute car ride had deadened.
"What is that?" my (then) six-year-old was the first to notice and question. I smiled at the sight that I had seen many times before when visiting my grandparents in Belle Center, Ohio. "There are Amish people who live up here and that is the way they travel." "Cool!" came the response from the backseat. The closer we got to the slow moving mode of transportation, the more the questions arose about the Amish life style. To kids who had just been complaining about not having a cell phone, the idea of such a simple lack of modern day conveniences seemed not only unheard of, but downright antiquated. "Do they know what they're missing?" my son questioned as we slowly made our way past the buggy. The plainly dressed gentleman smiled as he nodded and waved while holding onto the reigns. We returned his courteousness and waved, continuing on our way to Grandma's house. I couldn't help but to think of that scene when I was awakened to the news of another school shooting last week. This time the shooting took place in the humble dwelling of a one room Amish school house in Pennsylvania . It breaks our hearts anytime we hear of a school shooting ---and there have been more times lately than we can wrap our broken hearts around. But there was something even more sinister in this choice of victims: a community that is known for such simple-God fearing ways; a people that remind us of a time so long ago. Hostage situations and multiple murders here seem even more of a deplorable violation to the rest of the world. But now the rest of the world is sitting back with a sense of awe in what happened next in the community. The afternoon of the murder, the families involved led a walk to the house of the murderer to show forgiveness to the family he left behind. When asked about this, an Amish gentleman answered, "It's just our way of life." Peace. Forgiveness. One mother who lost her daughter was overheard saying it was a horrible tragedy that should never happen. But if it had to happen, "...it was probably best that it happened in our community, where we are prepared to leave this world for the next." The simple people with the plain clothes have spoken so profoundly. We do tend to look at their way of life as being antiquated, almost backward in thought. It appears, though, they are better futuristic thinkers than most. To answer my son's question, they indeed, appear to know what it is they are missing in their chosen lifestyle. The better question, though, just might be: Do we? here to edit. The picture made me smile.
It was an old picture of my daughter, not even two years old giving me one of her “squeezy hugs” --the kind where she would obediently hold on so tightly, we would have to say from time to time, “Okay ---you can let go now”. She was holding on to me so sweetly in the picture, I had to smile. I had to smile to keep from crying. Because I see the new pictures of that not-so-little girl, are her in a white dress walking across a stage to receive her high school diploma. And the pictures after that will be of her walking out the door to attend Miami University and the rest of her life. My head knows it is supposed to be this way. All babies, even the ones that give big “squeezy-hugs” eventually do grow up. But my heart isn’t being that rational right now. My heart is feeling a “squeezy hug” like never before. You see, my heart remembers the first time I felt a hint of this feeling. My heart remembers this very same girl learning to ride a bike. In my over-zealousness I had her five year-old body wrapped in every protective gear available at that time. Helmet, shin guards, knee pads, elbow pads. It was a wonder she could even pedal. But she is my first born and that’s just part of the package with first borns. And even though I had her so overly protected, I still worried as I watched her learn to go forward on her own. Faster and faster. Further and further. And just like she’s supposed to, she’s beginning to move further away everyday ---sometimes merely by inches, sometimes by leaps and bounds. Only now I have no protective armor to cover her in as she rides off for this next incredible step of her life. Somehow she’s so ready. Somehow, I’m so not. So I smile at the 16 year old picture that seems like it was taken just yesterday. Remembering it all. Only now the roles have changed a bit. Now, the grown-up voice I hear is hers, as she begins to turn to me and say, “Okay ---you can let go now.” |
Tamara Bundy
Some musings on being a mom, teacher, writer ..or maybe just being. Archives
November 2020
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