Just Passing Through.
The Little Things.

Typically I don’t post things like this but I thought the idea of this story was nice.  This exercise would be great for classrooms.

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. ‘Really?’ she heard whispered. ‘I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!’ and, ‘I didn’t know others liked me so much,’ where most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn’t matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in
Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.


As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. ‘Were you Mark’s math teacher?’ he asked. She nodded: ‘yes.’ Then he said: ‘Mark talked about you a lot.’

After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

‘We want to show you something,’ his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket ‘They found this on Mark when he was killed.. We thought you might recognize it.’

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark’s classmates had said about him.

‘Thank you so much for doing that,’ Mark’s mother said. ‘As you can see, Mark treasured it.’

All of Mark’s former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, ‘I still have my list. It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.’

Chuck’s wife said, ‘Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.’

‘I have mine too,’ Marilyn said. ‘It’s in my diary’

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. ‘I carry this with me at all times,’ Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: ‘I think we all saved our lists’

That’s when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don’t know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

Death as an act of creation.

Tom Creo: There you are. 
Izzi: Hey, what are you doing here? 
Tom Creo: Babe we have a 
[inaudible
Tom Creo: at three. 
Izzi: This is an actual Mayan book. It explains the Creation myth. You see that’s first father. He’s the very first human. 
Tom Creo: Hum. Is he dead? 
Izzi: He sacrificed himself to make the world. 
[pause
Izzi: That’s the tree of life bursting out of his stomach. 
Tom Creo: Hey come. 
Izzi: Listen. His body became the trees’ roots. They spread and formed the earth. His soul became the branches rising up forming the sky. All the remained is first father’s head. His children hung in in the heavens creating Xibalba. 
Tom Creo: Xibalba. The star, eh, 
[corrects himself
Tom Creo: nebula 
Izzi: So what do you think? 
Izzi: About? 
Izzi: That idea. Death as an act of creation. 
Tom Creo: [looks away, withdrawing] I’ll pull out the car and meet you out front.

Goodbye Grandma

           Life is full of unknowns.  Unexpected paths, surprising challenges, various hardships, and in contrast the most precious moments.  Everyone experiences each of these things in various forms and sequences, but what really makes them all validated, worth wile and treasured is family.  Family comes in all shapes sizes and structures and in our family, the more, the merrier.  This fact is fortunate considering there is more than a handful of us. 

            In the past few years I have come to find that my family is unique and exceptional.  Talking to my friends I have learned that large close-nit families are hard to come by.  Mine has been one of the few that has stuck together through thick and through thin.  I for one have been blessed with two families like this.

            Over the years grandma, or Luella, has been the glue holding us together.  She’s taught us to always gather more than enough food (and multiply that times ten), to gather as often as possible, celebrate for the sake of celebrating and to not be afraid of being our loud, sometimes obnoxious, colorful and Polish selves.  She fed us with love in as many ways as one could think of, most commonly in several kinds of dessert.   She kept us in line when we got out of hand, and gave us advice when we needed it.  Most importantly this incredible woman taught us how to hold ourselves together starting with the base of her tenacious adhesive.  At the time we didn’t realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun. 

            Grandma led a long and fulfilling life and while I will miss her dearly I am set at ease with the fact that I can only hope a fraction of my life could mimic hers. With the support she built for us we will persevere and continue to pull together the way she taught us, with unswerving love, carrying her with us every step of the way.  Family get togethers and feasts will never take place without her there in spirit, always, and I would never have it any other way.

Rest peacefully amazing lady. 

“Then I realize what it is. It’s him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.”

“Then I realize what it is. It’s him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.”

Post Secret had some pretty good ones this week.  :) (click on them to see them better)