Friday, July 19, 2013

Teaching Post Available

It's hard to say why I stay at this.

Are there better ways for me to spend my time?  Yes, thank you, there are.

That old worn-out tractor isn't going to sprout a new solenoid, shedding the old one cicada-like, ready to mow anew, now is it?

That old guitar ain't gonna tune itself and start singing John Prine tunes.  It never has before.

That half-finished novel will only get finished if the characters mutiny, pull themselves from the literary limbo in which they are entrenched, and finish their own damn story, you know?

That first Reds game after the All-Star break isn't going to be won unless someone watches, drinking beer and dreaming about youth and perfection.

The floors need scrubbed and the walls painted and I need to get on that guy about my truck cap, but it's too late now 'cause I forgot about it because I was thinking about something else.

I am often unable to afford myself the luxury of thinking about something else, but, and here's the thing, when I do, I frequently think about what I'd like to do here, with you, for them.

You see, I'm still engaged here.  I've learned a lot.  I've learned more, honestly, than I have given.  The karmic balance is decidedly one-sided.  I hope that with time it will equal out and all will be fair.

I've learned to keep my eyes and ears open, noticing the minutiae, the little stuff, the important stuff that happens all the time as the big stuff plans itself, and marveling in it.  A figure in construction paper, baffling, a bit androgynous until the child who made it says:  "Look, I made a paper Jesus!"

I've learned to bend over, to look under, to flip over and to not ask questions, even if a little boy with "x" eyes is on a little piece of a shim and a little girl coaxing the sun up is on the flip side:

I've learned to decode, even when, after serious analysis, all that is revealed is "cheek Rufus Lucky kings BONes":

I've learned to accept a pirate ship with feather sails soaring through timeless space, happily adrift, and to recognize the dreamy wonder it represents.

I've learned to help with the important stuff, and print them out if necessary:

No splashing or running.  It's important.

I've learned that this is a Dream:

 That this is a Hope:

And that this is a Prayer:

Oh, and that this is Corky Miller:

That reminds me, there's a Reds game on.

Thanks for stopping by, come back again, I'll be here...


  1. Damn you for making me all thoughtful and reflective on a Saturday morning!

    But seriously, great stuff. Poetic, even. Gonna share it with my Mom.

    1. Thanks for stopping by, Brent. I know, I know, we all hate "thoughtful and reflective." Poetic is good, right?

  2. Thanks for giving me a new way to see my kids own' drawings.


    PS...though I'm a lifelong Yankee fan, I will never forget the hospitality and generosity of the Cincinnati Reds, who let my entire family in to see a game for free from field level in 2011 - for no reason whatsoever other than being nice to my step-son while on a road-trip through Cincy. And for having a boy with Down Syndrome as your batboy. The Reds are a class-act.

    1. Thanks for coming around, LBD. Our boys are Reds fans and it's so nice to have a decent, caring franchise showing them how to love the sport.

  3. You've done it again Bill. Your words and your kids art really makes me realize what I have here too. It came at the right time because like you said "This stuff is hard" but obviously so rewarding in so many ways. Since my team sucks, I am pulling for the Reds too.

    1. Always glad when you stop by, DNC. It really is about realizing what we have, isn't it?