Bamber Hauenstein Wright, 1919-2012

My dad died yesterday.  I don't think he was in any physical pain and I hope that he was not afraid or sad.  I want to think that he died with my mom welcoming him to heaven in that gentle way that she had.  I can hear her saying, "gees, Bam, what took you so long?"

I have been most blessed in my life by the generous and good men who have filled it.  From my childhood, Dr. Jack Gunn, Phil Smith, Clayton Smith, Dr. Paul Howard, Floyd Ouderkirk, Denzel Kallenbach, Dewey Kallenbach, Bill Lawson, Jim Clark;.my teachers, Dr. Charles Jones, Mac Green, Charles Kendrick, Dr. Jesse Wheeler, Ted Tarkow, Walter Schroeder...my friends, Dale Schmidt, Larry Habel, Walter Bowman, Stuart Bintner, Bob Mobley...my family, Uncles Carroll, Cecil, Sam and Bud, my brothers Phil and Jack.  The best of these good and gracious men from whom I have learned so much was my dad, Bamber Wright.

In many ways he was a simple man.  He worked for Anchor Milling Company for over forty years, under the thumb of his wealthier, older cousin.  He enlisted in the Air Force at the dawn of WWII, dropping out of the University of Missouri.  He dreamed of becoming a pilot; but, he became instead a part of a combat mapping squadron in the little known China, India, Burma theatre.  When he returned from the war he meet and wooed my mom, Marcella Schell.  Their courtship last seven years and was in many ways tumultuous; but, somehow they persevered, despite his parents' misgivings about marrying a Catholic.  He watched as mom took us each Sunday to church at Sacred Heart in Eldon.  Dad went his own way, a deacon at the Tuscumbia Christian Church.

He was a faithful son who visited his mother each night.  My brother Jack repaid these visits, in part, during the last year when he faithfully trekked each evening to the nursing home to help dad with his teeth and to turn down his bed.   He was a devoted brother of Barbara and Betty, Betty who called each night when he could hear, ending their two minute talks with "I love you little Sister."  "I love you, Big Brother," she always responded.

Dad was a good husband.  He and my mom were married for fifty-six years.  He missed her desperately in the last few years.  When mom wanted to move to Jefferson City, dad moved, even though we all knew it was hard for him.  He missed the house he and mom had built before they married, pouring the foundation as he always told me on July 4, 1952.  Mom shared that more than once as their wedding date approached she thought of calling off the whole thing; but, then she remembered she had $2000 invested in the new house.

Dad was a terrific father.  I don't remember that he ever spanked us and he rarely raised his voice.  I never heard him swear in anger at my mother or any of us.  Somehow, we always wanted to please him.  We were good kids; how much trouble could one get into in Tuscumbia in the 1960s?  Dad took us on endless "cat arounds" to give our working mom a few minutes of peace on a Sunday afternoon.  Often these trips ended at the "station" under the hill with an ice cream for everyone.  Almost every summer night, Dad took us to the Eldon Pool where he and Vic Luetkemeyer talked and we swam for hours.  Dad and Vic undoubtedly consumed a fair amount of Jack Daniel in these sessions.

Dad liked butter brickle ice cream, red roses, Old Spice cologne, the music of Jim Reeves, and the stories of Louis L'Amour.  He always drove a red pick up and he drove after he retired for Belt Chevrolet in Eldon.  He loved to drive and when he couldn't, he didn't complain, although I know it bothered him and dampened his irrepressible spirit.

Dad took us on vacations that are still some of my best memories of time spent with him.  We traveled to Disneyland, Boston, Colorado, Wyoming, Michigan, Tennessee, visiting friends and family.  Every summer we trekked to Iowa and even as late as 2009 he made the trip in his pick up, me worrying at every mile.

Dad was a great story teller.  He could remember everyone's name, thinking that we would remember them too.  "You know", he would say, "X was the salesman for Lone Star Cement, Weyerhauser, etc."  Even recently, dad could remember long lost family from Tuscumbia and Miller County.

Bamber was a good friend and he had friends of all ages.  The closest friends of his youth, Judson Berry, Phil Smith, Omer Goode, are gone now too...I have an idea that they are sitting around a celestial fire ring, toasting each other with a good glass of bourbon, dad's "bellywasher."  Other friends were faithful visitors to dad in Jefferson City and later at the nursing home.  He would regale me with stories of visits by Jim and Nancy, Jimmy Mays, the family of Lessie and Bill Jenks, Alan Wright and Joe Pryor.  Children loved my dad and he loved children, especially his eight grandchildren.  Even last week when I visited he wanted to know "how are the kids?" and he smiled with pleasure as I reported the antics of my three and their respective jobs and romances.

It is difficult to sum up the rich, full life of my dad.  He lives in my heart and in the smile of my son, Matthew. I see him in the hug and wry humor  of my brothers Phil and Jack.

Say hello to mom for me.  I miss you.  I love you.  My dad, the best man I've ever known.

Mary and Marla

It's Labor Day weekend and I have been reminded, once again, of the fragility of life and the sadness that loss brings to family and friends.  Mary Downs and Marla Harris never met each other but they died on Thursday and I knew them, albeit not well.  Mary was the wife of long time teacher, Terry Downs, and over the past twenty years (or so), I have talked with Mary at the odd faculty gathering.  I remember when she gave birth to Sara and her son, Brian, a current sophomore at O'Hara.  Just last May I marveled at the fact that she was driving the kids to and from O'Hara, having suffered for many years from some kind of a neurological, seizure disorder.  I talked last with her at the faculty gathering in May.  Diagnosed with cancer in July, Mary had only a short battle with the vicious disease.

Marla was the mother of  Megan, Becca's first college roommate and still dear friend.  I bonded with Marla over the travails of moving our two freshmen into a 8 x 10 room at Creighton and shared stories that first semester at Parents Weekend.  Megan decided to transfer at semester and Marla and I shared a Mexican meal with the girls at Habeneros as they parted.  Megan and Becca have remained fast friends with numerous road trips between Sedalia and Kansas City by both girls.  And, I kept up with Marla through Megan, from the devastating diagnosis of leukemia, through last Thursday.

And, so, although I did not know Mary or Marla very well, I do know their children, and I happen to believe that it is possible to learn a lot about a woman when one knows her children.  I know that Mary had incredible determination and faith because her daughter, Sara, showed that each day at O'Hara as she took the stage for various plays and served as a leader for our senior Kairos retreat.  That determination and faith live on in Sara and in Brian, who is just beginning his sophomore year at O'Hara.  And, I could see the enormous capacity for love that was Marla's gift to Megan.  Throughout her battle with leukemia, Megan started "Hope for Marla", a prayer campaign complete with wristbands.  Megan carried on at Mizzou and spent as much time as she could with her lovely mom.  A warm and caring woman, Marla had a quick smile for everyone she met and it was like meeting an old friend when I learned that she had grown up in Jefferson City.  So, we bonded about growing up in a small town in central Missouri.

I feel so deeply for the Downs and Harris families.  I so cherish my adult time with my own mom, and I feel sad that Sara, Brian, Megan, and her brothers have been cheated of that experience with their own moms.  But, the gifts of their moms will live on in them.  And, so I am reminded of how precious and fragile life is.  We are here but for a short time.  Please don't waste that time arguing with your mom or wishing your child could be this way or that.  Hold on to each other.  Cherish each moment, even the arguments over hair length and curfew.   I know that I will do so.  It's especially important on this weekend.  Twenty years ago I gave birth to my last child, Matthew.  His name means "Child of God" and each day I thank God for bringing him (and his sisters) to us.  I plan to spend a little more time with these "gifts" because none of us knows what the future might bring.  I hope to live to be a very old grandma, but that is in someone else's hands.  What I can do is live life fully, in appreciation and joy.  

Advertising...Why Can't It Be a Force for Good?

While enjoying my morning tea, I was catching up on some Olympic coverage of the amazing Serena Williams, and thoroughly relishing the fact that I had nothing pressing to do for the next couple of hours.  And, then, a commercial from Arbys flashed on the screen.  It features a young man enjoying the newest Arby's promotion, Snap and Rock.  Evidently one snaps a picture, texts Arby's, and wins, according to the ad, every time.  As the young man was reveling in his rewards, he was proceeding to walk down a street destroying mirrors and other property set outside an antique store.  For his reward, he was narrowly missed by a piano falling from an upper window.  

Even my modern advertising standards, this commercial is bad.  It appears to endorse wanton destruction of someone else's property and ends in the fable that somehow one can escape misfortune by snapping pictures of Arbys food.  Ridiculous and irresponsible.  So, I promptly got on the web, located the "contact us" button for Arbys and fired off an email.  If more people would take the time to register indignation, corporate America would pay more attention.  They get away with this kind of outrageous message because we let them.  Let's wake up!  Corporate America is only as good as the Americans who watch the ads and buy the products.

Change the World

As I was looking through my twitter feed today, a teacher I follow, Kay Connors, had posted a story from CNN called "Give a Child A Camera and Change the World."  "Give a Child a Camera"Of course, I was hooked and I went on to read the story on CNN.  Four college students got the idea to travel to distant parts of the world to teach children how to use a camera, the idea being that these children would take pictures of their day to day reality, pictures that could then be posted and eventually sold.  The money from the sales would go to "boots on the ground" organizations in these countries that would help the children.  The CNN story shared the details of an orphanage in Sudan where the money earned from the pictures helped build a fence and secure reliable transportation.  The college students eventually turned their idea into a non-profit and have gone on to work in New York and Cuba.  100 Cameras   As I read the article, I was cheered.  Young people, probably close in age to the young man who opened fire on the movie theatre in Colorado, had an idea that they could make a difference for good in the world and they found the courage and the means to make their idea a reality.  It happens that their actions fit nicely into my personal philosophy which I have explained to my students and my own kids.  Summed up it is simply you are either a part of the problem OR you are a part of the solution.  There's so sitting idly by, watching the world go by.  If you can read about stories of injustice and poverty and NOT feel compelled to do something, anything, then, in my view, you are a part of the problem.  The college students highlighted in the CNN story are working toward a solution.  As the comments on the CNN story indicate their work is not without its critics.  Several people noted things that ran along the lines of, "you can't solve this big a problem with cameras," "how do you know the organizations are giving the money back to the children?"  While some of these criticisms may be legitimate, I put these naysayers firmly in the "part of the problem" side of the world.  Yes, there are probably lots of problems with this idealistic view that if you give a camera to a child in poverty then you can somehow change the world.  But, isn't it wonderful in our too cynical world, where some young people open fire on innocent movie goers, that some college students decided THEY could make a difference.  What made them newsworthy is that they did it.  May all of our young people feel so empowered.  That is, after all, one of the most important goals of education in the Lasallian tradition, helping people realize that they can be a force for good in the world.  To sit on the sidelines is to be a part of the problem.  Don't sit on the sidelines.  Choose to be involved in the world.  The rewards for all are immeasurable.

Saturday

It's Saturday.  It's the day when I used to get all the chores done that had piled up during the week like grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning, dusting, etc.  Most Saturdays though I go to Jeff to see my Dad.  I'm not sure how much he enjoys my visits because they are always really short, but Jack told me that it helps him when I do go, so I've gone every Saturday since Dad moved into assisted living back in October.  Except today.  And, I'm feeling a bit guilty.  Life is like that, though.  It's one giant juggling act between what we need to do and what we want to do.   I decided to stay home today and do some of the things that have been piling up.  I started painting the deck today.  I have it over half finished, but I ran out of paint, so will finish later in the week.  The kids are all gone this weekend.  Matt's with the Freelands, Becca went to Hays with Corey, and Sarah is in Columbia with Joe.  I miss them, but it's been fun cleaning and organizing without anyone but Grady under foot.  The dog got a little paint on his nose because he got a bit too close to the action this morning.  And, now I just have to finish the myriad of tasks I've set for myself before my precious Saturday is gone.

Summer

I have been thinking a lot about the summers of my childhood.  And, a variety of memories have surfaced, each poignant and delightful, each bittersweet in its own way.  I remember...The Tuscumbia Picnic.  It wasn't actually a picnic...it was more like a, Lees Summit Downtown Days. . .a carnival came to down replete with rides and sideshows. . .the PTA hosted a delicious chicken dinner....there was a dance...square dancing...a beer garden that parents strongly discouraged...there were swimming lessons at the Lake of the Ozarks...my mom's garden...I think we ate wilted lettuce every night for at least two months...my Aunt Betty who came to visit in late June and stayed until August...the 56 Chevys...the bookmobile...there were nights swimming at the Eldon Country Club...our annual visit to Iowa to pick up Grandma Wright who had gone for a visit to Aunt Barbara's and stayed for three weeks, or more...my brothers' birthdays...both born in the summer...vacations with the Smiths to San Diego, Wyoming and Colorado.  Who could forget camping in the wilds of the Snake River during August when the temperatures dipped into the 40s?  My dad, having a "bellywasher" with Phil Smith, on the banks of the Snake....we picked blackberries with my grandmothers Tilly and Lizzie.  My brothers and cousin Ron collected minnows at Gum Creeek while I...read...ah, the books...Ah.  It was a simpler time.  I hope that my children's memories of summer are as rich...

A Reading Life

On my way to work today (Friday), I decided to stop by Neighbors' Cafe in downtown Lees Summit and treat myself to breakfast.  Of course, I had a book to keep me company, although my children would be aghast at the thought of me eating alone.  Since it's 105, or it seems like that, I ordered an ice tea instead of my usual coffee and sat down with "I Wish I'd Been There", a book I've assigned for summer reading.  As I began, I checked my email and I had a new post from the Nerdy Book Club blog that I follow.  Today's post was about developing a habit of reading over a lifetime.  As I sat with my breakfast, I reminisced about how I became a reader.

The easy answer is that I'm not sure.  I remember loving to learn to read in Mrs. Hazel Schulte's first grade class room.  We read from the "Dick and Jane" primer series and I can still remember the magic as I decoded the first words, "See Dick run."   Mrs. Schulte also taught phonics but I missed about 1/4 of my first grade year so phonics never really "took" and I became a sight reader.  I still today have some trouble pronouncing words that I have never heard (or seen) before.  In Third grade, Mrs. Kallenbach read to us every day after recess.  Here I heard Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer and Strawberry Girl.  Sometimes I think I should read to my AP class, just a few pages every day of some good work of fiction.  Perhaps I will this year, despite the rigors of the AP curriculum which has us running from Columbus to Clinton in just 9 short months.

By 3rd and 4th grade, I was a voracious reader.  Sometimes I attribute my love of reading to the fact that I grew up in the country.  My best friend moved to Tucson when I was in 4th grade and I remember the rest of that year and the following ones, until she returned in 8th grade, as lonely.  My two brothers were busy building forts in the back yard and catching minnows and I was more than content to curl up on the sofa with a good book.  My mother fed my love of books.  I still remember that she would walk to the Jefferson City library on her lunch hour and with the help of the young adult librarian, select a stack of books for my reading  pleasure.  She did this every week, especially in the summers.  And, then there was my Grandmother Lizzie who loved to read.  She started me on the Little House series and I read all of them and then later read them all to my own girls from the same set she had given me.

Mom turned me on to the Zane Grey series and for a while I read only westerns.  Then, grandma introduced me to the fiction of Frances Parkinson Keyes and I became immersed in the world of the antebellum south.  I read all the Nancy Drew books and eagerly awaited new titles.  These were the only books I bought until I was much older.  I also read the entire Hardy Boys series and Trixie Belden, solidifying my current love of mysteries.

It was great fun in the summer to go with Grandma (who couldn't drive) and my aunt (who visited all summer) to the bookmobile.  I still remember climbing into the van and having such fun selecting books.  I read everything.  Books about raising puppies and books about gardening and novels and histories.  Grandma and I would each emerge with a stack to enjoy until the bookmobile came around again.  I posted its scheduled and eagerly awaited its arrival.

Later in high school, I read through virtually every book in our tiny library, enjoying for the first time the work of Kenneth Roberts.  His Northwest Passage still is one of the best works of historical fiction that I have read.  Our English teacher, Pam Breedlove, encouraged my love of reading and urged me to read in genres that I had not explored.

As a young mom, I read all the classics to and with my kids.  Goodnight Moon was a perpetual bedtime favorite as was Runaway Bunny, the Velveteen Rabbit, and Go, Dog, Go.  And, although my kids enjoy reading, they are most definitely not members of the Nerdy Book Club, pulled in other directions by the allure organized sports.  It remains one of the great mysteries of my life why I, who love to read, have children who do not.

Today, I am surrounded by books.  On my summer reading list and nightstand are the books I've assigned to my AP class, (Devil in the Shape of a Woman and the aforementioned I Wish I'd Been There), the books that our Honors Sophomores English students are reading (Bean Trees and Cold, Sassy Tree)
the Hemmingses of Monticello, a Pulitzer prize winning tome by Annette Gordon-Reed, Devil's Brood,
a fictional tale of the family of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, and some professional education books, required for my current coursework.    I have books stacked up in my Kindle and am eagerly planning to purchase a Nook.  I read on my iPad through the Kindle app and I Tunes books.  I read the Christian Science Monitor and Time and some of the Washington Post each day.  I'm listening to Fallen Giants on my android phone and generally have at least one book tucked into my purse and another few on tape in the car.

Books have shaped my life and are one of the great joys of my life.  Trying to encourage my AP students to read widely and for pleasure, as well as for education, remains one of my most important goals each year.

Happy Reading!