I was in the middle of making lunch today when my phone let out a "ding-dong" announcing an incoming text. What I got wasn't a text, but a picture... in fact, a couple of pictures. Technology is so amazing that I was receiving (almost) real-time photos of an event in (delayed) progress taking place almost nine hundred miles away. A short phone call later and I found myself outside thinking about all the people I have met so far in this thing called life.
My world use to revolve only around a little town and not much farther than that. I laugh when I tell my kids about how I never ate Chinese food until I was twenty-one and in the service (they think it's funny because for the most part, they love Chinese food). The Air Force took me to a few places I would have never otherwise been where I met some interesting people. I remember a guy from New Orleans that had an accent I never did quite figure out, another from California who was without a doubt a typical surfer dude, a girl with poofy blonde hair from Georgia who called any kind of carbonated beverage a Coke, and yet another girl from Wisconsin who really did love cheese. I found all of these people interesting and am certain they found me something of a backward puzzle... I never could come up with a good answer on why I insisted words like "wash" and "Washington" were pronounced with an R (warsh, Warshington... get it?). Anyway, that short-lived experience was one of my first to other people outside of my small town circle. I will never forget those people I met.
Then came my days as a teacher. I know, I know... teachers aren't suppose to have favorite students, but don't students have favorite teachers? At any rate, I have enough sense to keep such things to myself and treat everyone the same so any comments or helpful advice on the issue can be saved for another time. When you have those students, though, that remain close to your heart long after their year with you has gone... well, those are the ones that stick with you. You're always curious to know how they're doing in school, what kind of friends they have, what their plans are after graduation... that kind of thing; just a general interest in their well-being. I had one girl who hated math to the point it made her sick, a couple who loved horses with a passion (and still do), one girl whose smile and enthusiasm could influence an entire classroom, a girl who loved McDonald's pies so much she stashed them in her lunchbox, a boy who matched his tennis shoes to his shirts, another who experienced random nose bleeds... good grief, I could go on and on. Whether from the Midwest or the South, I've got stacks of ribbon-tied cards, pictures, and notes buried deep in my cedar chest.
You know how some books are so long that they are not only divided into chapters, but also into parts? Sometimes I wonder if that is how life is. Is it wrong for me to hope, to pray, that this particular "part" is about to come to a close so another can begin? I know things can never go back to how they used to be, but we can certainly take experiences back to where we were. To be fair, I have met some interesting people in this part of life as well: a neighbor who became like a grandfather to our kids when they needed one close by, for instance. I have fallen in love with a thing called Carolina bar-be-que that I am pretty sure I won't find anywhere else. Our kids have been introduced to the Atlantic Ocean and the Smoky Mountains. I've experienced Civil War history in a way I never would have before. Those are the kind of things that make this part of life worth it.
So back to that "ding-dong" today that started this whole thing. A girl in the midst of a marriage proposal. Yes, she was a student of mine some time ago whose joy could win over an entire classroom. Earlier this year I got news of another engagement concerning another former student that I had the honor of teaching for four years and can still remember when she got her first horse. It's just something a bit unreal to watch these kids that you use to teach arithmetic and geography to embark on the whole grown-up-thing called life. My daughter will think I'm crazy and sentimental for writing these things and I suppose some feelings are hard to transcribe into something that makes sense. If my life were a book, though, it would be full of stories about the people close to my heart and forever in my thoughts.
And yes, Mom, there would be an entire "part" devoted to you.
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