MORE THAN JUST A COACH

I was fortunate to see him coach his first game

at that time I didn’t know

how fortunate I really was…34 years ago.

Watching his manner, his patience, his kindness, 

his calmness…his overall approach

I quickly learned this man…was much more than just a coach.

He was a teacher, a counselor a psychologist…

so many professions intertwined

He was a chauffeur, a motivational speaker

a reader of young minds.

Wearing all these hats I saw him coach my daughter, 

her children…(my grandchildren too)

I watched him coach for many years

I learned from his point of view 

I watched his teams win…they won often

I’m sure all his players are glad their paths have crossed

as he showed them how to be winners…even when they lost.

When they won, he praised their achievement.

When they lost he did the same.

Teaching them about the complexities of life

from a simple volleyball game

34 years ago I watched him coach his first game

but time moves on so fast

and yesterday…I found myself

watching him coach his last….

Sitting there I thought of all games I’ve watched him coach

all the time together we’ve traversed…

and I felt just as fortunate watching his last game

as I did watching his first.

THE COLOR OF OUR SKIN

Here’s an interesting fact about the color of our skin:

the section that holds the color is unusually thin.

I imagine to our creator…it was a snap…a finger flick

making the section with our pigment only a millimeter thick.

I’m sure she had her reasons…perhaps it wasn’t even functional

Perhaps she just wanted to make our world a little more beautiful.

Perhaps even though he was the creator he was inquisitive

perhaps he wanted to see how people of different colors live. 

Perhaps after creating in us similar brains, and eyes and hearts

he wanted to give us a simple way of telling each other apart. 

Perhaps she wanted us to look both outside as well as in

and see there is so much more to who we are than the color of our skin.

Perhaps her belief in her creations was both resolute and strong…

and she never guessed there would be reasons we would not get along…

My guess is he didn’t think it important…the color of our skin 

which is why when creating all our pieces she made our color part so thin.

Perhaps our creator hoped…from the moment our life begins

We would use our brain, our eyes and our heart…to see past the color of our skin.

After all, if our creator made color such a small part of you…

and such a small part of me

If she didn’t think it that important…

I wonder…

why do we?

MY TEACHERS

There is a wise old saying…an ancient Chinese gem: 

When three people walk together my teacher is among them.

We had a simple dinner with some friends and the first thing I was taught

was if you listen but a little…you’re bound to learn a lot..

I learned a lot about sadness

sadness that our basic foundation seems destined to destroy…

I learned if we are ever to survive that sadnesses

we must discover joy. 

I learned a lot about how the sadness of a natural disaster, 

of divorce

of sickness 

of wars that never seem to end

can be offset by the joy that floats around a table

filled with family and friends. 

I learned in the midst of a sad world

there is more joy than one might think

as I watched the laughter, support and wisdom 

of people sharing food and drink. 

As luck would have it other friends came into the restaurant

It was like a holiday!

They were celebrating their 5th grandchild…

born earlier that day.

I learned although weakness can come from sadness, 

meant to injure, to bruise…to annoy

our courage, our determination…our strength

comes from our faith, our love…our joy.

I learned this simple lesson which I will from this day forward now employ….

I shall not close my eyes to sadness

but I shall open them more…to joy…

Any ancient Chinese scholar sitting in that restaurant would have smiled…

It would have been easy for he…or she…to see

there was more than one teacher in that room that night…

In truth…they were surrounding me.

HEY MOM

I love working in the bookstore where I am constantly surprised 

as I get to watch slices of life play out before my eyes…

I heard them before I saw them…a mother and her daughter too.

“Hey Mom”, I heard the daughter say, “let me hold the door for you”.

The daughter stood there smiling while opening the door wide…

as her mom, now using a walker, slowly stepped inside.

“Hey Mom! Do you want to look for a book?” her daughter ask her twice.

"Come to think of it”, her mother said, “a dictionary would be nice.”

I showed them a used dictionary, the mother’s face turned red…

“It’s just like the one you had growing up!”

“We’ll take it!” the daughter said.

“Hey Mom, do you want to look for another book?” the daughter asked

“If you want…you know you can.”

“No, I’m tired dear I think I’d like to sit down and talk to this young man.”

(I looked around the store, no other customers did I see

I happily concluded as this mother smiled…she was talking about me!)

She sat, we talked together in voices kind and calm

Meanwhile throughout the store we heard her daughter call “Hey Mom”.

“Hey Mom, are you sure you don’t want another book?” 

“Hey Mom, here’s something you don’t want to miss.”

“Hey Mom I remember reading this when I was young.”

“Hey Mom take a look at this.”

The mother smiled as she heard her daughters questions, her calls…her pleas…

“It’s nice to have a daughter.” she said, “who takes good care of me.

“Hey Mom, do you want to get some ice cream?” the daughter asked as they headed out the store…

“Hey Mom, watch your step…be careful as you’re walking out the door.”

I love how life is cyclical because as the mother finally cleared the door

another mother held it for her daughter as she ran into the store…

“Hey Mom, can I get a book?” her daughter asked…

“there’s so many in here I haven’ t read…

Her mother smiled as she looked at me..

“Of course you can.” She said.

And as the Mom passed by the counter…

With grace…with confidence…with aplomb

A voice rang out from the back of the store…

“Hey Mom! Come here!…”Hey Mom!”

THE FLOWER OF FRIENDSHIP

I pass this lovely bougainvillea every day and am happily aware

how a bush this bright and beautiful can exist with oh so little care.

It is a fact of nature…one we can’t dispute

how the bougainvillea doesn’t need much tending…once it’s taken root.

The other day an old friend stopped in the bookstore, 

one I hadn’t seen in years

and I was reminded how old friendships 

in spite of time and distance still endear.

Seeing him was a wonderful surprise…it gave my heart a thrill.

We talked as if it was yesterday…as if somehow time stood still.

Friendship has a unique way…when it comes to time…

to circumvent…

for when old friends meet…any time that’s passed…becomes irrelevant.

It was just a short visit and after he left I joyfully conceded

how to keep our friendship going…this was all the time we needed.

I paused by the bougainvillea on my way home…

happily aware

how a friendship bright and beautiful can exist with oh so little care.

For it is another fact of nature…one we certainly can’t dispute

how a friendship doesn’t need much tending…once it’s taken root

NOT JUST A RETIREMENT PARTY

We attended a retirement party or a friend who won’t be teaching anymore.

He’s been teaching at the same school…since 1984.

We sat in the back and watched the people sharing laughter…sharing tears

with the man who has been changing lives for the last 35 years.

I watched him hug one person after another…I watched as other hands he clutched

and I thought here is a room full of people whose lives this man has touched..

I have no proof to back this up…but in my heart I believe it’s true

whenever a person touches your heart…a piece of that person stays with you.

When compassion, generosity and kindness between two people are exchanged

though they may not realize it at the time…both of them are changed.

And as I looked around the room…and listened to what was said…

I realized in its simplest form…this is how love is spread..

One drop in the ocean might not seem like much…but in reality

that one drop, that simple drop…can find it’s way across the sea…

I’m not sure how far his drops have traveled…how far his drops have roamed

but as I watched him at his retirement party…they found their way back home.

They returned to him in a smile, 

in a hug, 

in a poem

in the many ways he was caressed….

And as I watched countless people celebrate this one man 

I thought…

We all should be so blessed.

WHAT'S YOUR HOUSE WORTH- A REMIX

Once a year it comes in the mail…a kind of annual rebirth

It’s a card…it’s from a realtor…asking…

“What is your house worth?”

This year’s card again got me thinking…and I’m sure Deborah would agree

the value of our house is different for the realtor than it is for Deborah and me.

A realtor might pause in front of that bedroom door and frown

wondering who in their right mind could have hung it upside down.

She could not know I worked on that door for almost an entire day

and though it is a little different we kind of like it hanging that way.

A realtor might want the writing on our closet door erased…

He might not realize it’s part of our family’s lore…

that our children’s and grandchildren’s every changing heights are written on that door.

A realtor might see the lights in the kitchen…she might laugh or scoff

wondering why to turn them on…you actually turn them off.

She’d have no way of knowing…the switch will stay that way forevermore

having been installed by the same person who hung that bedroom door.

A realtor might want that swing in our backyard replaced…its old and shows its wear

He couldn’t know our children and grandchildren grew up swinging out there. 

A realtor might see the cracks in the ceiling and become enraged.

She wouldn’t see them as we do…wrinkles that come with age.

Yes, a realtor might look at out house and see imperfections behind every window and every door

Never comprehending, in our house, 

it’s those imperfections we adore

To a realtor this is just another house as in search of houses to sell they roam 

but a long time ago it became more than that, 

when it became our home.

So back to the question of the moment, how much is our old house worth?

The house that has seen us through sadness and joy; through marriages and births.

The house where for over 30 years our family has laughed and cried and sat...

The answer is quite simple, you can’t put a price on that.

At least that’s what I was thinking as I read on the card the realtor would pay cash!

And why I smiled so contentedly…when I tossed it in the trash.

LOVE AND HUMOR

How do we explain love…should we even try?

It’s a complicated intermingling of our hearts our brains…our eyes…

I suppose the best definition…when all is said and done

is that love is a universal feeling that’s universally different for everyone.

Which reminds me of my first year of teaching…over 40 years ago

I wanted two teach my Autistic students about humor…I wanted to help them grow.

I thought, ‘who better to teach them?’…after all I am a funny guy.

They would be learning from the master…how the principles of humor apply.

On an easel in front of me was a comic strip from the newspaper…

In front of each student was the same.

My goal was to explain the humor…while going frame to frame.

It seems humor when explained this way is not an easy concept to see…

In the investigation…in the analysis…It loses it’s spontaneity 

Not one chuckled…no one laughed…

my students had no sense of humor as far as I could tell

that is until they erupted with laughter…when I tripped on the easel…and fell.

My students showed no comprehension of humor…

not even the littlest giggle sound

Until they heard my high pitched scream…and I was face down on the ground…

There are two possibilities why this experiment failed:

The first…perhaps humor cannot be taught

The second, and my money’s on the first one here, 

I’m not as funny as I thought.

Or perhaps there are some things in life we’re not meant to fully understand

That are designed to make us wonder…to be mysterious…and grand

Which brings me back to explaining love…

Perhaps the best explanation of all

Is that love is a lot like humor

And the best way to experience it…

is when you fall.

I HAD A DREAM

I had a dream last night…

I know dreams aren’t always as they appear…

this one had me teaching……and I’ve been retired for 6 years.

For me to remember a dream…is extraordinarily rare

and I don’t remember this entire dream…just bits and pieces here and there.

When I awoke on the other side of my dream…ready to begin my day

I had to stop and wonder what my dream was trying to say.

Perhaps it was reminding me…trying to make me comprehend

that even in retirement…teaching never ends.

That there is always someone out there…someone I can reach

someone with whom to share my wisdom…someone I can teach.

Another reason for my dream was easy to discern…

to remind me I will always be a student…who has a lot to learn.

Reminding me in life through adventures big and small

no teacher…no person in this world…

ever knows it all.

Reminding me in life…through my successes and my flops

if I’m lucky…if I’m truly blessed

my learning never stops

Reminding me wherever I go…east, west, north or south…

A good teacher is one whose ears…get as much exercise as their mouth…

Yes, I had a dream last night…

that I was still teaching

and still learning too…

and I woke up this morning realizing…

that dream keeps coming true.

NEVER TOO OLD

When she was young…just a little girl

when life was more innocent and free

she believed in castles in the sky

in fairy tales…and fantasy.

She believed from the sparks of a campfire fireflies were born

She believed in happy endings

in mermaids and unicorns… 

She believed in houses made from gingerbread

that every sentence ended in rhyme

She believed rubbing a lamp could summon a genie

She believed long hair she could climb.

When she was young she believed in Santa Claus.

She believed her grandparents lived in a world of black and white.

She believed in the magic of a kiss.

She believed her blanket would protect her at night.

When she was young she’d play outside for hours.

She’d come home with scraped up knees.

She believed she could see the entire world when she climbed to the top of a tree.

And when she grew up she still believed… 

In happy endings..in fantasy…and play

but the duties and responsibilities of life often got in the way…

Which is why now that she is older

she loves to find moments when her fantasies are reborn…

moments when she revisits her fairy tales…

and finds her unicorn.

A LITTLE DNA

Just the other day I had a chance to run my DNA

and was pleasantly surprised at what I found.

Other friends and family say they’ve also run their DNA

and ended up surprised if not spellbound.

For once my DNA was scanned…at this point I began

to understand we are all a little more related than we think.

How quickly I did see how many different people make up me

and how it seems with everyone I have a link.

A little DNA shows there is a flood….a mix of people in our blood

made up from lands both near and far…

who across these many years…somehow it appears

have had a hand in creating who we are.

If we trace our bloodline back…we may find that we are black

all from a little DNA

We might come to know…in our blood is Latino

and I imagine some people in our past were straight and others gay. 

Which makes me wonder if members of the KKK should ever run their DNA

Would they dismiss this fact or be enthralled….

could they possibly conceive…despite what they believe

We are not one race but a mixture of them all!

Would they be upset…would they be angry…feel mad

to think how we are all one symmetry? 

Or would prejudice slowly melt away… due to a little DNA

and would we begin to see the end of hate and bigotry.

People of the world refuse to unite…we continue our wars and fights

despite what our spiritual thinkers say…

Wouldn’t it be great…if what ultimately makes the world cooperate…

is just a simple little bit of DNA?

FIRST IMPERSSIONS

When we meet somebody new…perhaps with a different point of view

We know not the things their eyes have seen.

We don’t know a thing about he or she…we only know what we can see…

We know not the many places they have been.

When at first we choose to meet…we know their story’s incomplete

We know not if their’s is a life of silence or one of noise.

It’s hard at first to ascertain…to get inside their brain

when we know not their sorrows or their joys

Perhaps we smile, shake their hands….unable to fully understand

how many times in life they may have cried.

We try to read their face…wondering what has brought them to this place

and are they showing us humility or pride

It is within our own discretion…to form a first impression

not knowing how many times they may have been confused…

And though first impressions can be strong… they also can be wrong

for we know not if or when their hearts have been abused.

So what are we to do…when we meet somebody new?

What would be prudent, sensible and wise?

Perhaps it would be great…to make our first impression wait

to try to see the world through someone else eyes.

To make a point each day…not to push others away

for this is not, I hope, what we’ve been taught.

For once we see life through their eyes…I think we’d be surprised

and realize we have more in common than we thought.

WHEN YOU SEE

When you see a person in wheel chair?

Have you ever thought about their plight?

Thought about their daily struggles…about how they sleep at night?

Wondered though they may be paralyzed…if they feel any pain?

Wondered how they get around in snow or sleet or rain

Have you ever thought of all the pathways in this world that slant?

When you think of all they places you can go…

Have you thought about where they can’t?

When you see a person without sight…

have you ever thought about their plight?

Thought about how they navigate the world…or live in constant night.

Wondered how they choose their toothpaste or the clothes they wear?

Wondered if they mix up day and night and how difficult are stairs?

When you see a sunrise, sunset, or the colors of a flowering plant

When you see the beauty all around you…have you ever thought…they can’t

When you see a person who is deaf

Have you ever thought about their plight?

What it’s like not to hear the melodies of the day…or the harmonies of the night?

Wondered if they feel more danger, more anxiety more fear

living in a world of sounds…but sounds they cannot hear..

When you hear someone call your name, or sing or scream or chant

as you listen to the music of life, have you ever thought…they can’t.

Have you ever thought of all their families 

helping those who cannot walk or see or hear

and of all the unseen ways they show their love…

every day…

of every year.

What if those of us who are lucky…

who can walk and hear and chant

take a moment every day to think of those who can’t… 

To help in any way we can…

for love has many ways it can be shone

knowing the weight of any burdens is less

when we don’t carry it alone.

COURAGE AND BEAUTY

Is there anything more beautiful

than a smile

that rises out of tears…

or more gratifying

than courage

that emerges out of fear?

The moment we find the courage

that beautiful moment when we dared

to act in the face of danger

even though we may be scared.

And the truest form of courage

of beauty ever made

is facing our fear when we’re the only one

who knows we are afraid?

WATER INTO WATER

I recently left some water on the table…only half a cup

but I was thirty so I took the water pitcher and quickly filled it up…

As I poured water into water it became obvious to me

when the water from the pitcher met the water from the cup…

they blended easily.

And once the two waters joined together

once they were completely blended 

I could not tell where one water began 

and where the other water ended.

And I thought it doesn’t matter where this water comes from 

out of my spigot or across the sea

when I pour water into water…they blend so easily.

And I thought it doesn’t matter the color of the waters

because it’s easy to comprehend

when water is mixed with water…

how easily they blend.

In fact the colors blend quite beautifully

without having to be taught

when one water is a color…and the other one is not.

When two colors of water come together

both colors are transformed…

and from two separate colors

a new color is formed….

It led me to think about water…and humans

and it suddenly occurred to me

If humans are mostly made up of water

shouldn’t we blend more easily?