She lived in my home...

“The past is done, the 

future's a choice.”

-        Anonymous

 

As we sat eating Thai food for dinner, I couldn’t help but wonder at this woman with whom I had journeyed my entire life. In fact, she is the only person who has known me from birth – the last one!

 

I appeared when she was two, like an alien from an unknown world. It was 'household interruptus.' She had to share parental time!

 

A little background…

Growing up, I didn’t know my maternal grandmother. She departed the planet sometime before I arrived. I did know Martha Jackson, my paternal grandmother. There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the woman. A lioness, protector of the Pride. She was a force of nature, always seeming to know exactly what to do. The men in her orbit were weak by comparison. Indeed, she never seemed intimidated by anyone of that gender.

 

For all the sound and fury of my Nana Jackson, the women of my mother’s family appeared comparatively docile. That would be if you didn't know them. There was little apparent outward drama in their lives, but in their own ways were forces of nature. At a time when women were expected to be in the background and subservient to men, they carved out their own lives.

 

Mother’s family was eight. Three boys and three girls…My mother, her fraternal twin, and an older sister all significantly impacting my life.

 

Our family was five. Two girls and me. My sisters carried on the tradition of the women from which they emerged. They were bright and strong. My late sister Nancy invariably stood at the bow of her life's ship, and anyone who met her knew it. Wind in her face, there seemed nothing she couldn’t do. Losing her was like losing a part of us.

 

Then there was my dinner partner on this warm summer's evening in Columbia, Maryland – my sister Anne.

 

Following her heart…

Like the women that preceded her, Anne cut her own path. From an early age, she was drawn to the world of music. Something in it touched her deeply, and as the future came for her, she mastered a professional craft within which she labored, lived, and thrived. 

 

Anne is a teacher of music – voice to be specific – and singer. One might think that mastering this art craft would take all of her energies, but one would be wrong. She is a lover and student of nature - among many other things. For example, she can identify multitudes of birds by their songs. A veritable encyclopedic resource, she knows their origins and migration patterns. 

 

She is an excellent cook and a compassionate, profoundly committed mother/grandmother. She has two adult children – a boy and a girl. If you ask about them, be prepared for sparkly-eyed stories of how amazing they are.

 

She is not loud, nor in my view, particularly outgoing. But those entering her orbit soon discover she is a bottomless source of wisdom, inspiration, and knowledge. In her late seventies, she is a seemingly indefatigable creature who time and again comes to the aid of others, regardless of the cost to her. If you talked to the students in her stable, you would discover she is so much more than a voice teacher…she is a teacher of life!

 

How we got to dinner…

Anne and I have taken quite different paths in our lives, and while we shared a home and a brief time at university, we were fully occupied going about the business finding ourselves and growing up. 

 

Over the years, due to geography, substantial family responsibilities, and vastly different career paths, we were never as close as we desired. We saw each other from time to time when I had business in her area, but these were brief visits. 

 

Despite growing up in the same home, it is probably accurate to say, I didn’t know her very well. But, life has slowed in my seventies, and I desire to know and understand her better - not as siblings but as friends.

 

She took the initiative during the Covid as if she had tapped into the universe and found my feelings. I got an email suggesting we make a Zoom lunch together. What a great idea! We did a couple of them. They led to phone calls and to deeper communication with one another.

 

Oh! The dinner…

Anne lives in Vienna, Virginia, a community near Washington, D.C. She was going to visit an ill friend near Philadelphia. I was visiting my niece and her family in Columbia, Maryland, so she practically had to drive by the house. 

 

I suggested dinner, and here we were. We laughed, told stories, and reminisced about many things related to our time as children, sharing household and life. We had barely scratched the surface when it was time to head home. 

 

Anne decided to spend the night, and after breakfast, I tried to get her to stay a while longer, but she had a schedule and time commitment. So we decided to set regular ‘talk times’ and put them on the calendar.

 

Is there a point here?

I've tried not to take people for granted in my life, yet I had done so with my sister. 

 

In the blog reminder I send, I write that if we care about someone, we should tell them…the undercurrent being we all need reminding we have worth. 

 

Whenever my sister and I communicated over the years, I ended by saying, "love you." There is a difference, however, when the personal pronoun ‘I’ precedes the expression.

 

To be clear, to this woman who has always known me and is the holder of many of my secrets…

 

Anne, life is short...I covet your breath! 

 

Je t’aime…I love you!

 

- ted

Companionship? It's built in...

“One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do. 

Two can be as bad as one, it’s the loneliest 

number since the number one…”

- Harry Nilsson, 

American Songwriter

 

Our species are social creatures. Regardless of our education, gender, culture, or economic status, we want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. Maybe it’s a church group, a club, a professional organization, the military, or even a gang. We seek other people with similar interests to become part of a larger mission.

 

What do we share? What do we look for?

 

A few of us have artistic talents…art, sculpture, music. Even if we don't have these kinds of gifts, most of us can tell a story. We want to plant an image and feeling in our minds to another person.

 

The stories might be big, or little, or something common.  They could be about an unexpected event, what happened during the day, a trip we took, or an unexpected meeting with someone that made an impact. Social interaction often comes through telling one another tales. The good ones move us and stick with us. They’re more than just the facts, often sprinkled with irony, humor, and verbal images that add texture. We do this to find a shared space with other human beings.

 

An insight (at least for me)…

I've been back in the classroom for the past few years. Early on, it was a struggle just to stay ahead of my students. But like most things we keep at, ideas and thoughts began to emerge that could not have come without the grind…meat on the bone as it were.

 

In this past summer’s class in anatomy & physiology (A&P) I was struck by the idea that our desire for social connection is much more organic that I appreciated. The pieces that make up the whole (anatomy), and the way the pieces interact (physiology) create the body that you and I inhabit. I say inhabit because 'we' – our consciousness, is housed in the billions of neurons in our brain. The is where 'we' live. Thinking about all of the interactions, caused me to think about the way even our physical bodies have interactive needs.

 

Building the house… 

The job of our physical body is to take completely different systems combing them into a complex piece of physical machinery that carries our brains around. Putting stuff in our brains, builds a different kind of body, one that is equally, and possibly, more complex.

 

Let’s talk about the construction.

 

An A&P course begins with a bit of chemistry – mainly discussions of a few atoms. These tiny elements become components that build into successively larger pieces:  Atoms > molecules > cells > tissue > organs > organ systems > fully integrated functioning bodies.

An atom has energy. It is made up of a nucleus with electrons buzzing around it. But atoms by themselves are pretty lonely. They are hungry to interact and bond with other atoms, some of their own kind (molecules) and others with different elements (molecular compounds). 

 

As with the atom, however, molecules, by themselves, are meaningless unless they combine into something bigger, something with a greater purpose. Organic (and some inorganic) molecules become parts of cells.

 

We have trillions of cells, and while many of them look different (e.g., nervous, muscle, fat, liver, etc.), they all contain the same things. Each has little organs (organelles) that eat, drink, digest, dispose of waste, breathe, reproduce, and other things just like we do. In many ways, they are sort of like little people - microscopic people. The nucleus of the cell and its inner part, the nucleolus, carry DNA, the genetic code, like an orchestral conductor, that contains growth instructions for pretty much everything.

 

Like atoms and molecules, cells are drawn by a predetermined blueprint to join something greater than themselves. As they genetically differentiate, they form distinctive types of tissue (e.g., skin, muscle, lung, digestive, etc.).

 

That is good news, but even those tissues have a need to be part of something more too. As they grow, they clump (non-science term) together to form organs (e.g., heart, lungs, kidneys, etc.).

 

Now we're cooking! And yet…and yet, organs have little meaning until they interact with other organs into a working system. That working system is a coordinated body – a living creature, and in this context – us – human beings!

 

The epiphany for me was that from an atomic level on up, there is a genetic drive to interact with similar as well as different parts of the system.  More than a metaphor, this is probably a biologic precursor for our drive to interact in shared experiences with other people - to be a part of something with greater purpose. When one group interacts with another, a social fabric begins to develop.

 

The prophet Ezekiel had a vision of a "…wheel in the middle of a wheel…" (Eze 1:16). A wheel, or circle, has no beginning and no end. It is a metaphor for the blueprint into which we have emerged. The cycle that uses atoms as building blocks to a fully realized body is completed when the atoms return to the dust from whence they came, recycled to begin the process again. They built a house to allow our minds to seek out things greater than ourselves - a miracle!

 

I believe when we shed the mortal coil within which we live, we become part of something greater - primed to be a sentient part of the fabric of the universe - God's mind. Like Ezekiel’s wheel, we become part of something which has no beginning nor end.

 

But that’s just me…

 

- ted

Old friends...

“If we were completely unalike, we would be unable

to communicate. If we were completely alike,

we would have nothing to say.”

Jonathan Sacks: Not in God’s Name

 

Wednesday had been busy…the morning, the flight to San Diego, a baseball game, dinner, and a soft landing into the evening. The following few days included walks, meals, and quiet evening conversations as the California sun disappeared below the western horizon.

 

The chats were casual and intimate. You know, the kind…old friends don't need much ‘pump priming’ to slip into well-worn patterns and rhythms. The cadence polished by years of knowing one another…no need to find a space. It was already there. 

 

We live very different lives, but none of that really matters in the ebb and flow of our conversations. We understand the important things are not about our professions but our minds that have allowed us to grow and mature.

 

In the thirty-five years, we have known one another, Scott has become a successful businessman. A strategic planner, thinker, deep listener, and diligent note taker…he doesn’t give much of his thinking away. Most folks don’t see the hours of thought he puts into his work until…until they see the results. What a lucky guy, some might say. He would respond we make our own luck – I would say…we make our own lives. 

 

It's all about choices, isn't it?

So here we were, stealing a few days in southern California, doing what we have become accustomed to…exploring different experiences, life, family, spiritual things, and gratitude for the life God has given us. 

 

Gratitude…that’s it. It comes from medieval Latin, meaning pleasing or thankful. We might describe gratitude as 'deep,' 'profound,’ or ‘heartfelt.’ Yeah, that’s the kind of gratitude Scott and I feel when we are together – heartfelt gratitude.

 

Many years ago, we found we shared some common professional mentors. Three men who had impacted the lives of millions of people took us into their confidence to teach and guide us. In the early days, we often asked each other how we could be so fortunate. The question that emerged then and continues to this day: with lives so deeply blessed – what is our obligation…our responsibility? What do we do with what we have been given? 

 

A good example is the parable of the talents in the scripture (Matt 25:14-29). 

A man leaving on a journey gave three servants some talents (1 talent = approximately 75 lbs/34 kilos of gold). To one five. To another two, and to the third one. When he returned, he found the servants to whom he gave five and two talents doubled the investment. The third to whom he gave one buried and returned the same amount he had been given. The first two received further rewards for their faithfulness and diligence. The one who had done nothing got nothing and was cast away.

 

The lesson...

Our capacity increases when we work and grow what we have been given. The more we do, the more we can do. Like the parable, life doesn't compensate for good ideas, visions, or dreams. Instead, it returns and builds on the things that we do. That is the message of the parable. That is the message for life.

 

Scott and his wife Genny have created a foundation called ‘Live4Legacy.’ That’s the way he gives back. Reaching out to those less fortunate with a hand up…it’s always a hand up, isn't it?

 

My way of giving back? The classroom. I teach life lessons under the pretext of an academic course. However, the principles are the same…a hand up...showing young people how to prepare for the course material...more importantly, life.  

 

Better to teach how to fish than serve a meal.

 

Sunday morning arrived with the flight home. It had been, as it had always been, timeless, sharing back and forth in a dialogue of life. We are different, Scott and I, but we consider that a strength in our relationship and the worlds (minds) in which we live. As Jonathan Sacks said: “…If we were completely alike, we would have nothing to say.” 

 

Scott and I have a lot to say…

 

Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?

 

- ted

And then there were four...

 “Quality, not quantity, is my measure.”

- D.W. Jarrod, 19th century writer

 

Monday afternoon, we strike the set, as the cycle of teaching anatomy and physiology (A&P), to which I have become accustomed, ends once again. 

 

It's one of those deals where there is a process like in theatre. The audition, the rehearsals, the performance, the striking of the set, and in the end, exiting stage right. In this case, it's submitting a syllabus for review, assembling the material (quizzes, tests, and labs), rehearsing the flow, and stepping into the room or virtual room for the performance to begin.  

 

The typical semester run for this course is sixteen weeks. That's a convenient because there are sixteen chapters of material for students to review and absorb. Nonetheless, it comes with considerable speed, as these chapters cover nearly six hundred pages of content-dense material in the text.  

 

In the summer, courses don't generally follow the sixteen-week path but rather five or eight weeks. 

 

A year earlier…

Last summer, I taught this course's pre-nursing level. It included four lectures (4hr 25min) four days a week. It was a mind-numbing experience for all involved – teacher and student. Twelve of the twenty-five who started dropped the course in the second week. They had the impression it would be easier and less content rich in the summer than in the sixteen-week semester. They were wrong! 

 

The students that stayed quickly understood success would come from eating, drinking, sleeping, peeing, and pooping anatomy and physiology. Daily labs, daily quizzes, and exams every week. It was a load! The ‘galloping horses' that did remain performed remarkably well. I was amazed at what students could do when they understood what was required, put their heads down, and got it done. I was equally impressed their teacher survived the punishing ordeal.

 

‘Survived’ was the operative word. I vowed I would never teach that course again!

 

This summer…

Once again, I was offered a five-week summer course, but this time it was entry-level needed by students interested in ancillary health care (e.g., x-ray tech, pulmonary tech, social work, etc.) or public safety work (e.g., police, firemen, border patrol, etc.). The five-week course required a minimum of six students for it to run, with a single two-hour thirty-minute lecture per week.

 

Two weeks before the start date, there were six. The week before, there were five. 

 

When I pray, I ask God to stop me if I lean in on something He doesn't want me to do. I had agreed to teach the course, but it looked like it would not have enough students to go. I was already planning what I was going to do with the time.

 

I dropped a note to the Dean just to confirm my July and early August would be free. Much to my chagrin, Friday ahead of the Monday start, she indicated she was willing to run the course with five…WHAT!!??

 

The day cometh…

“Hey,” I suggested to the Creator of the Universe, “I thought we had a deal. I was moving forward, but there weren't enough students…how come, this?"

 

Resigned to my fate and a little bit grumpy, I headed to class on Monday afternoon to meet the five students who had enrolled. I might not have been hap, hap, happy about this, but I wasn’t going to let them know.

 

Let's get on with this...

There are three things I do at the beginning of each new class.

 

First, I ask my students, "Who is better than you?" They always hesitate like, for some reason, it's a trick question. I give them about fifteen seconds and say, "You waited too long! NOBODY is better than you." I remind them they are not better than others, but belief in themselves is an essential ingredient for success in life. It's surprising how few positive messages my students have gotten in their lives.

 

Every day, a slide goes up with a header asking the question: Who's Better than You? Additionally, on that slide, each day is a different quote. For example: "Don't believe everything you think…." "Beware of simple solutions…." "You should have strong opinions, loosely held…." "Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better…."

 

Second, they are asked to share a little something about themselves - which in this case, didn't take long. Did I mention there were only five students? 

 

Third, I learn their names on the first day and always greet them by name when they arrive. Names are meaningful icons. Mentioning them provides an unconscious level of respect and familiarity – in this case, not too hard with five students...yeah, I think I mentioned that.

 

Another thing I like to do is play fifteen minutes of music before class starts. Once they know this will happen, I ask them to recommend what they would like to hear. Over the past few years, I have been introduced to interesting music selections and artists from various cultures and countries. Thanks to these students, my playlist has been expanded considerably.

 

Another one bites the dust…

Two weeks in, one of the five dropped the course, and now I was left with the smallest group of students I have had. Okay, I grumbled a little more. But then something began to happen. It wasn't purposeful because I still harbored the loss of five weeks of freedom. 

 

But in an homage to the Three Stooges, “Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch…” I found I was looking forward to seeing these young people. The formal slide, discussion, and slide format turned into systems discussions. I wasn't instructing them; they were letting me teach. They cared about the material and engaged in dialogue.

 

The course I didn't want to teach…the class I was confident God had canceled because of too few students, turned out to be one of the best teaching experiences I have had. I had pulled a cognitive trigger, thinking not teaching was what God wanted...you know, because it was what I wanted.

 

This week, I will spend the last couple of hours with these young folk for whom I have developed affection, as I always do. We'll review for an hour in the classroom and strike the set in a local pizza parlor.   

 

I hope they will think they got something from me, and I suppose they have. But what they don't know, nor will they fully appreciate, the gift they have given me.

 

Four indeed!!   Note to self, "Don't believe everything you think."  

- ted