Dad's Umbrella

Dad’s Umbrella

One rainy summer day, I grabbed an umbrella from the coat rack and strolled out to get the mail. My mailbox sits at the end of a long driveway, so I had time to enjoy the beautiful umbrella protecting me. It was my father’s umbrella decorated with a depiction of the angels in Raphael’s Sistine Madonna. 

You’ve seen these cherubs. They gaze upward on many posters, mugs, and t-shirts, their golden ringlets and colorful wings framing their wistful faces. It’s a beautiful painting. As I walked, I thought about how my father gave me two wonderful gifts – his love of beauty and his protection.

Dad loved beautiful things. He traveled the world for his job and in every place, he sought out something beautiful to bring home. Asian carpets, French paintings, a bit of Italian sculpture, a gossamer scarf, a delicate necklace, or a piece of poetry, anything which captured his eye or his heart, he packed up or shipped home. Nothing expensive – just beautiful. 

Of course, if you asked him what he considered most beautiful, he would not hesitate to answer – Marie, his wife and the mother of his six children who were next in line on his scale of beauty. An amateur photographer, he took every chance to immortalize us in pictures. He photographed our eyes, our smiles, our tears, and our triumphs. His photos evoke memories, laughter, and tears as we remember the beautiful moments we shared.

Dad loved all things beautiful. His rose garden boasted 50 bushes with some varieties of his own cultivation. He named these after his beloved wife or rambunctious children. His record collection included opera, Broadway shows, and Shakespeare. We listened. We sang. We absorbed their beauty into our souls. 

Dad loved poetry and prose. He recited epic poems for us and Shakespeare soliloquies. He introduced us to classic literature – beautiful words which enlightened and delighted us. He shared his love of comedy and drama, giving us laughter and tears. He took us to church where we learned the great mysteries and assurances of faith. 

He wanted us to find beauty in the world, so he protected us from things which were ugly. He steered us away from prejudice, anger, fear, and hatred. He guided us toward acceptance, joy, security, and love. He showed us beauty in his actions and his words. He covered us like an umbrella, sheltering us with his love. 

My father left this world in 2014 but his gifts remain with me still. I see him in the roses in my garden, in rainbows after a storm, in the smiles of my children and grandchildren, in the heart of my husband, and in the love of my siblings. He shaped our hearts.

Dad is still teaching us about beauty. He is protecting us still. Like his umbrella, he left us behind. But when we gaze upward, with wistful glances, we see beauty and feel his love shielding us still. 

Delicacy

Delicacy

Quick! Think of a word to describe American politicians today? What comes to mind? Argumentative? Brazen? Crass? You could probably continue on to the end of the alphabet with nary a complimentary adjective. How about delicate? Not a word that springs to mind.

Dr. Frank Crane, a Presbyterian minister and inspirational writer from the early 20^th century wrote a series of Four-Minute Essays which focused on positive thinking. His writing encompassed almost every topic of the day. These essays, which I found in a tiny little book at a library sale, have a lot to say about today too.

Dr. Frank considered delicacy to be the “flavor of all the virtues.”  By delicacy, he meant not fragility but gracefulness. “It is not goodness; it is goodness filtered through modesty. It is the gentle hand of the courageous heart.” Crane felt that this quality of delicacy was required for any man to be a gentleman and any woman to be a lady. He warned that a “lack of delicacy has spoiled many a man’s career.”

A delicate person thinks first. She weighs her words carefully. She considers the feelings and opinions of others. She holds others’ points of view as no less valid than her own. She may argue, but she doesn’t berate, accuse, or demean.

Abraham Lincoln would never have been described as delicate in body. Standing well over six feet tall, he seemed to have little control over his gangly legs and enormous feet. In fact, when he first met his wife-to-be, Mary Todd, he told her, “I want to dance with you in the worst way.” For years after, Mary reported to friends and family, that that is just what he did!

But Mr. Lincoln was the model of delicacy in his life and with his words. He wrote some of the greatest speeches of any time, asking Americans to be guided by “the better nature of our angels” to forgive our former enemies, to not avenge but to aid. He realized the true intention of our nation’s Constitution, that America was “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men were created equal.” He knew that no person could be free unless all were free. He went against popular opinion to do what was right.

Dr. Crane lists some qualities which are “fatal to delicacy.” His list includes egotism, smugness, vanity, selfishness, lack of respect for others, insolence, and most telling, insincerity, and satisfaction. Which of these might we apply to our politicians? Which of these might we ascribe to ourselves? 

Insincerity plagues our political system today. Don’t take a stand; take a poll!  See where others sit on that fence before choosing a side to land on. And what is satisfaction? Satisfaction means letting the status quo of your own personal life dictate the lives of others.  I’m OK. Why should I worry about anyone else? 

Lincoln was OK.  He had a thriving law career and a growing family. But he gave it all up for a bigger cause -- to assure that all people could be OK too. He suffered. His family suffered. The nation suffered. But America grew stronger and more delicate too. He taught us to think about the OK-ness of all in our nation and eventually, the entire world.  

“[Delicacy] cannot be explained to you; you must absorb it. It cannot be learned; it must be assimilated.” It must become part of the fabric of our lives if we are to “make virtue victorious.” Dr. Frank admonishes us to practice delicacy so that “the strong [will be] tempered with kindliness, wisdom [will be] suffused with modesty, conviction [will be] balanced with toleration.”  

If, like Lincoln, we want “the gentle hand of a courageous heart” to govern our nation, we need to assimilate delicacy and practice it daily. Let us hope our politicians embrace it too so that when we get to the letter “D” in our list of virtues, we know what quality will define our leaders, that virtue that flavors all others -- delicacy.

(Quotations from Four Minute Essays; Vol. IX  by Dr. Frank Crane, 1919.)

Distractions

Distractions

Once upon a time, I had a student named Charles. One day, as Charles worked at his desk, the principal announced an emergency dismissal over the loudspeaker. All of my students leaped up to grab their school bags, shrieking and rushing about bumping into each other as I tried to restore order. Charles sat placidly at his desk working away.  

About five minutes into this scene, Charles looked up. I caught his attention and told him that he had better pack up. “Oh,” he said and gathered his belongings obediently.

Charles is memorable because he was an unusual student. He was an average student with average abilities and average looks but in one thing he was very strange: nothing distracted him.  

What distracts students? 

Everything. 

You name it; they’ll be distracted by it. I have seen girls spend days gazing at the fingernails they glued on for a flower girl stint, picking them off one by one, arranging them in patterns, holding them up to catch the light, coloring them with markers and pasting them on pencils.  

A ruler is a magical toy. Not only can you measure things with it, but it also serves as a propeller, a drumstick or a weapon to bop your neighbor on the noggin.  

Any and every item in a desk can draw attention for some kids. One of my guys loved to arrange his pencils, crayons and erasers in battle formation. Another pulled apart each page of her notebook to make feathers of paper. These she rolled and stored in her pencil box for future experiments. A laugh in the hall, a bird swooping by the window, a sniffle, a burp, a gust of wind, all pull eyes and minds away from a lesson. Don’t even mention what happens when the first flakes of snow flutter down.

Teachers work hard to keep attention. We plan dazzling lessons filled with wonderful learning tools. Unit blocks are great for teaching place value. Unfortunately, they also encourage tower building. Plastic clocks help students learn to tell time; but isn’t it fascinating how the hands go round and round? Highlighters boldly mark important facts and also connect to make really long and colorful pointers. Glue works great on paper and fingers. What fun to peel it off!  

Kids see the world in a wholly different way. Where adults see a tool, kids find a toy. Scotch tape offers endless possibilities. Wrap it around a pencil for a unique grip. Tape six crayons together and draw a rainbow. Pull it over your lips and make your friends giggle. Stickers can decorate a nose or an ear or become a finger-tip puppet. 

It’s a magical and distracting world. I found myself banning bracelets, hair ribbons, watches, pencil-sharpeners and key rings. Keep them home I cautioned. Put them in your school bag. Look at the board. Focus on your book. Listen. Watch. Pay attention.  

But it is a losing battle. Kids will be distracted. I find it amazing that they learn as much as they do. With all the wonderful diversions the world offers, a student somehow still learns to read, to figure, to write and to wonder. What a wonderful brain a child has! 

A friend of mine taught in a rural school in Africa. Whenever a truck or tractor rumbled by, her students rushed over to the windows to watch. Motor vehicles are rare in that community without roads and her students would debate make and model and discuss possible destinations. It always took awhile to refocus attention on her lesson.

One day, a donkey cart rambled by. The students rushed to the windows. 

“Wait a minute,” said my friend.  “Surely you’ve seen donkey carts before.”

  

“Yes,” her students agreed.  “But we have never seen that one.”

Hats On

Hats On!

Hats On!

    I do not like to wear hats -- but I wear one every day. Let me explain.

When I was young, hats were de rigueur – required in polite society. We wore bonnets to church, beanies (yes, beanies) to school, caps for sports, hats for clubs, wool hats in winter wand sunhats in summer. Hats were fashionable. We removed our hats to show respect and put them on to show allegiance. Hats were in.

But I hated to wear hats! I rebelled vociferously! Hats gave me a headache. Hats gave me hat-head. Hats limited my view. I looked terrible in hats. I didn’t care how stylish my hats were – I didn’t want anything to do with them. Most of the time, I put them on to please my hat-knitting grandmothers, to stay out of trouble at school, and to remain a member of the team, but I grumbled.

My mother, however, loved hats (read that LOVED hats). She had a hat for every occasion, and, if there wasn’t an occasion, she made one up to fit the hat! She had birthday hats, Santa hats, Halloween hats, Easter bonnets, and leprechaun bowlers, stove-pipe hats for patriotic holidays, and hats related to family events. She had hats from every corner of the globe. She had hats that sang and hats that danced. She wore them even while her six children ducked their heads and grimaced behind her. 

Today, she has a huge collection of hats. She carefully chooses one to wear each day. They make her happy. They make others happy too. People grin when they see her coming. Her Christmas tree hat with the blinking lights make children’s eyes light up. Her leprechaun hat brings smiles to more than Irish eyes. You can be sure that if it is your birthday --even if you are on the other side of the world -- Mom will have a hat on her head in your honor – complete with “flaming” candles. 

The smiles her hats inspire are mirrored by the smile on Mom’s face. She likes making people smile. She radiates joy. Even though her world has gotten smaller in the last few years, the happiness she shares with her smiles and her hats continues to spread.

So why do I wear a hat every day? Well, for practical reasons, of course. Hats keep the sun out of my eyes and off of my face. But more importantly, when I put a hat on my head, I think of my mother and smile. 

I remember how she smiled as she cared for her children, her husband, her mother, and her father-in-law – all ten of us who shared our family home. I remember how she welcomed every new neighbor as if they were family. I remember how she made friends with everyone she met. I remember that she continues to share this joy every day and in every place. How can I not smile with a mother like that?

So every day, when I put on my hat, I think of Mom and smile. I actually hope to get hat-head because if wearing hats make you as happy as Mom, I’m going to put one on. And, when I see you coming, I’m going to smile. I hope you smile too. 

Seeing With Your Heart

Seeing With Your Heart

            I do not remember when I first realized that I was different from other people….

Everyone knows the story of Helen Keller’s life, at least the story of her early life.  She was born in Tuscumbia, Alabama on June 27, 1880 a perfectly normal child. She was very bright and had even started speaking by six months. But at the age of nineteen months, she contracted an illness that left her deaf and blind plunging her into darkness and silence.  

Helen grew into a wild thing, terrorizing her household with her tantrums. Her family placated her because they pitied her and felt helpless. Most handicapped people in those days lived hopeless lives in institutions. But Helen showed an extraordinary intelligence.  By the age of five, she had invented sixty signs for communicating.  

Her parents took her to see Alexander Graham Bell who was working to develop aides for deaf people.   Helen remembered, “He understood my signs and I knew it and loved him at once.”  Graham suggested that a teacher be sent for to help Helen.  That’s when the miracle happened.

Annie Sullivan came to teach Helen but first she had to tame her. She understood the Keller’s pity but knew that they were making a mistake. Helen had to behave before she could learn. The battle began.  

Annie prevailed but Helen won. She learned to behave and through Annie’s teaching, Helen’s dark, silent world opened wide: “My teacher… touched the darkness of my mind and I awoke to the gladness of life.”

Helen made enormous strides and learned to read and write and even speak.  She attended Radcliffe College along with her teacher who spelled every book and lecture into her hand.  Helen graduated and went on to lecture all over the world. She appeared in films and vaudeville. She wrote books and became an advocate for the handicapped. She said, “… the great need of the blind was not charity, but opportunity.” She met every President from Grover Cleveland to John Kennedy. She became a symbol of courage and hope for the world.

My students were amazed by Helen’s accomplishments. They enjoyed trying to read Braille. When Helen was asked who her favorite pal was, she replied, “ [books] they tell me so much that is interesting about things I cannot see. And they are never troubled or tired like people.” They were fascinated to learn that Helen could tell one flower from another by touching the petals and smelling them. They loved that she could feel the vibrations from a piano and touch music. She read lips and learned geography, German and French.  She didn’t like Arithmetic. She loved to laugh.

Helen said, “Keep your face to the sunshine.”  She never felt sorry for herself.   She said, “Life is a daring adventure.”  She did not let her circumstances decide how she would live or what she could accomplish.  She learned to read the world, not only with her hands but with her heart.  She said, “ I was dumb; now I speak.  I owe this to the hands and hearts of others.” 

Helen Keller was named one of the one hundred most influential people of the twentieth century.  She changed our world. She opened our hearts and hands to others by her example. She lived her life in hope so that we could too. 

All quotations are from Helen Keller by George Sullivan.

I Know YOU!

          Ana:  Is it true that his parents are getting a divorce.

          Nia:  Yeah.

          Ana:  Gee, I hope my parents never get divorced.

          Nia:  They won’t. They’re a good couple.

          Ana:  But you don’t even know them.

          Nia:  Yes, I do.  I see you draw them all the time.

I overheard this conversation between two of my second graders. I was struck by this little girl’s insight into her friend’s life. Nia knew her friend. She had seen pictures Ana had drawn and somehow felt the love that radiated from that family.

All children love their families and draw wonderful pictures of them. They love to name each member and explain how and why they drew them as they did. Pets are always included.  

A child’s family is the whole world for many years. Even after starting school, the family is a child’s anchor. Families differ, yet whatever the make-up, each is complete. Even a splintered family unites in the heart of a child.

And what confidence children place in that family! Nia just knew that Ana’s parents would not divorce. They were a ‘good couple’ she concluded. They would stick together and take care of her friend. Ana didn’t need to worry. Her drawings said it all.

Of course, the real world outside of the drawings is a bit more complicated. Pressures take their toll on the happiest of families. The smiles in the drawings remain while the smiles on the faces in reality dim. 

But I think Nia was even more perceptive. She knew Ana’s family from her drawings, and she also knew Ana. Ana represented her family. She was a happy, confident kid. She had her homework done and signed. Her shoes fit and her clothes were clean. She helped her friends and was respectful to her teachers. She was a good kid, so she must have a good family.

Children do represent their families. A happy child reflects a happy home. A sad or sullen child may indicate a troubled home or an unhappy relationship. Of course, every child has his or her own personality, but these personalities are magnified or stunted by the tenor of the home in which they live.

Psychologists have been analyzing children’s drawings for years. According to them, symbolism is present in the earliest scribblings of toddlers. Circles and sunbursts speak volumes about the psyches of our smallest artists. Dark colors mean one thing, bright colors another. Drawings of people with missing limbs, features, or smiles indicate something missing or out of tune in a child’s life.

And, while psychologists analyze kid’s drawings, kids analyze their families. Subconsciously, children know when someone is worried, restless, or dissatisfied. They surf along on happiness; they sink with despair. 

Let’s hope Nia analyzed well. Ana’s pictures show a smiling family and, while a picture may be worth a thousand words, every child is worthy of a happy home. Take a snapshot of your own. What will your children draw?

"I Was There!"

“I was there.”

Since 1986, we have been celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday as a national holiday. Even in kindergarten, all the kids know the basic facts of Dr. King’s life.  But every year they come to understand just a little better what his life and actions meant to our country and what these mean to them today. 

In a west African story-telling tradition, it is the custom for children to interrupt the speaker by chiming in “I was there!” Then the child tells what he sees, hears, smells and feels at that point in the story. We tried this with the story of Martin Luther King, Jr.

           

Martin was born on January 15, 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia.  

“I was there,” sings out Harry. “His mommy wrapped him up in a warm blue blanket because it was so cold that day. His daddy was so proud. He ran out and told all his friends.”

They named him Michael Luther King after his father but later changed his name to Martin.

“That’s so they could tell him and his daddy apart,” says Jeana.

Martin loved learning. He especially loved big words and asked his father to teach him new words. He soon learned to read. 

“I was there!” crows Nick. “Martin asked his momma for a dictionary so he could look up really big words. He wrapped his mouth around a new word every day. He made his mommy and daddy laugh.”

           

Martin had a best friend who was white. They did everything together until it was time to start school. Then his friend’s mother wouldn’t let them play anymore.

“I was there,” says Eli. “I saw tears running down Martin’s cheeks. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t play with his friend anymore. His mother hugged him and told him it was OK but Martin still felt bad. I’d feel bad too.”

Martin did really well in school and went to college. He wanted to be just like his father who was a minister. Martin studied hard and graduated and became a minister too. 

“I was there!” shouts Carson. “Martin loved helping people. He visited them in the hospital and told them stories about the Bible. He had a big voice and sang out strong in church. One of his favorites was We Shall Overcome. I can sing that one too.”

           

Martin got married and had four children. He was happy at home, but was unhappy about what was happening in the world.

“I was there,” says Nina. “Back then, black people weren’t allowed to go to the same schools or movies or churches as white people. They even had different bathrooms and water fountains. One lady named Rosa Parks got arrested for sitting in the front of the bus. She was just tired of all the rules. Martin heard about it and he and his friends tried to get the rules changed.”

           

In 1963, Dr. King led many protests for equal rights. He got arrested too. He told people that even though the rules were wrong, they should be peaceful. He gave a speech in Washington, DC on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

“I was there!” yells Josey. “Martin stood on the top step. Right behind him was the big statue of Abraham Lincoln. Abe looked tired. Lots and lots of people came to see Martin. Martin wanted them all to be friends. He said he had a dream that white and black children could go to the same schools and play together. Martin looked tired too.  He was tired of the bad rules. He just wanted peace.”

           

Martin worked really hard for peace and in 1964 he won the Nobel Peace Prize. 

“I was there,” says Maria. “There were lots of important people there all dressed up. Martin’s family was so proud. Martin was proud too, but he still looked tired.”

           

Martin still had lots of work to do. He organized voter registrations and boycotts. He protested segregation rules. He led people in marches. 

“I was there,” says Travis. “Sometimes people threw things at the marchers and yelled really bad words. The police didn’t help. Lots of people got put in jail. But Martin told them not to fight back. He said peace was more important.”

Peace was most important to Martin.

“I was there,” calls Curtis.  “Martin loved peace.  Lots of people got mad at him.  I didn’t though. I told him to keep trying. He did.”

Martin never stopped working for peace. That’s why we remember him today. The children look around and see the changes Martin made. 

And all of them, black and white, sitting together as friends say together, “I was there.”