the lost is found

Well, this was the shortest game of hide-and-seek ever. Or the longest. I'd wondered about Mr. Stanko for years, but as soon as I blogged about him, presto! His comment appeared! (Thanks in large part to my friend, Dove.)

Yesterday, the day of the post, I had an idea to e-mail a coach at the high school where I knew Mr. Stanko had coached. This morning the coach answered, saying he thought he could help ... he did know Mr. Stanko and perhaps could get me a phone number.

But within minutes, John Stanko's comment appeared and we enjoyed an exchange of e-mails. He still lives in Connecticut, is semi-retired and has a life-long passion for education. I'm not sure John really remembers me, a mediocre student from his earliest teaching days, but he affirmed my memories of his love of e.e. cummings and his tortuous writing expectations. He's also glad that I remember his influence.

Hey, find and thank a teacher. I'm pretty sure it'll make his or her day.

thank you, Mr. Stanko

Some people fade in our memory while others stick in our mind for a very long time. There's someone in my past who keeps coming to mind, and I'd like to find him and thank him.

He was Mr. John Stanko, my 8th grade English teacher. He seemed like an older guy then, but he was probably only in his mid-twenties. Mr. Stanko was portly, loud, and unpredictable: a sort of dark-haired, literary Einstein who tinkered with the potential in his students. He loved coffee: the air around his head smelled of it. He sometimes brought his coffee cup with him to class, a man ahead of his time.

Mr. Stanko was passionate about his subject, and writing in particular. So passionate that he required us 13-year-old dweebs to write something EVERY SINGLE DAY of eighth grade. At the time, I thought this to be cruel and unusual punishment. "Come on, Mr. Stanko, just one day off?" we'd whine. My girlfriends and I had more pressing concerns, like passing notes during class.

"NO!" he'd bellow, pacing and waving his beloved e.e. cummings collection over his head. "You will learn to write this year, so you will write! Now write!" And we'd put pencil to paper.

Over the months, a curious thing happened. I began to like writing more and more. And I began to look forward to Mr. Stanko's critiques of my work. One day he handed back my essay on winter. His brief, generous comment: "worthy of Frost." That essay is tucked in a box of my childhood treasures.

Mr. Stanko, you taught me well. You made me remember you and what you were about. Your purpose was not to make a student happy or her learning easy. From you I learned to catch a love of words and uncover a passion that might have remained buried.

Thank you, Mr. Stanko, wherever you are.

happy birthday, Katie!

My one and only and favorite daughter, Katie, is turning 19 today. At 4:24 p.m., to be exact. I remember the time because we'd only arrived at the hospital here in Delaware an hour before her birth. The doctor didn't make it in time, so Bill and two nurses delivered her. I think Bill had attended more births than one of the nurses.



Let's go for an acrostic for Katie's birthday:

K - kind-hearted. I can't imagine a more compassionate, humble heart than Katie's.
A - Adventurous. I think if we gave her a suitcase and unlimited airline tickets, we'd never see her again!
T - Temperate. Katie's so even-keeled. Or as my mom used to say, "she's very good-humored." (Mom said the opposite of me.)
I - Inquisitive...about things that interest her, like photography. Amazing what Katie has learned on her own. Another 'I' word to describe her is introspective. Katie does a lot of quiet thinking about what's important to her life. This is a solid attribute for anyone.
E - Empathetic. Katie is attuned to the struggles and needs of others, especially the "little guy."

I wish you a very happy birthday, my dear Katie. We're excited that we'll spend part of the day with you!

With Katie's 19th birthday comes the realization that we'll have a teenager for just one more year. I'm not really sure how this happened, but our teens sure flew out of here in a hurry.

happy birthday, bro'!

My brother Pat has a birthday today. I can't believe how old he is, and how old all of us are. I remember back to when we were kids ... it doesn't seem like 45 years ago! Pat was - and is - my much-smarter big brother. He always earned better grades in school, probably because he cared and worked harder and I didn't care and didn't work hard. He was focused and planned his future; I just went with the flow.

There was one incident where I wondered about his intelligence. On a snowy day in Connecticut, he went sledding down a hill in the woods behind our house. I'm talking LOTS of trees. Pat slammed head-first into a tree on his sled. I don't know what it did to his brain, but he still seems smart.

Happy birthday, Pat. Watch out for the trees.

wanderlust

Our family, well most of us, is seriously into the Amazing Race ... and season 14 is now underway.

If, unbelievably, you're unaware of this show, here it is. Eleven pairs of people embark on a round-the-world race, hopping country to country and scary challenge to scary challenge. Each week, the pair to arrive last at the pit stop is eliminated ... until there are only three pairs left. First ones to the finish win a million dollars.

OK, ok, it's reality TV. And your point?

My kids have been talking about The Amazing Race for years now. Katie, especially, dreams of pairing up with one of her brothers and being selected as a participant team. We've discussed who would make the best pair: Katie has some travel smarts and Dan's a fast runner. David's got an analytical mind and Mark's Mr. Cool. Then there's the question of throwing Bill or me into the mix. After all, every season there are at least a couple of middle-agers to make it interesting.

On Sunday's episode, the team who arrived first at the pit stop is a mother-son pair, Margie and Luke. That's them in the photo above, getting 50-pound cheese wheels down a slippery slope in Switzerland, the first country of the race. What will make this team interesting is that Luke is deaf. He and his mom communicate by signing.

Once you catch it, it's hard to get the travel bug out of your system. Given the chance, I'd join the Amazing Race with no second thoughts. I probably can't imagine the grueling nature of it, but I'd still go. My backpack is ready!

a little romance

It's Valentine's Day: for some a day of high hopes, of flowers and chocolates and dinner out.

All that is fine, but after many years of marriage and living, I've come to appreciate the day-to-day expressions of love and affection that have come my way. I don't think I'm the easiest person to live with. Sometimes I'm moody, cranky and just want to be left alone. But my husband looks past all that and loves me. Let me count the ways:

- loading - and emptying - the dishwasher.
- he doesn't hog the remote.
- makes grocery store runs.
- waits until I'm up to make the coffee. He knows I hate stale coffee.
- suggests we go out to eat just because, not because it's Valentine's Day.
- remembers that Tuesday is trash day and takes care of it.
- squeegies the shower.
- vacuums dog hair off the stairs.
- lets the dog out and in, over and over again. Wipes her feet, too.
- makes a fire in the fireplace even though it's a pain.
- lets me be me.

No, he isn't much into flowers and jewelry, but that's ok. It means more to me that he looks for little ways to show love throughout the year. A lot of women should be so fortunate.

Of course, Paul probably said it best to the Corinthians, the poor souls who needed to get it right. He said of love:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

1 Cor. 13:4-7 The Message

Way to go, Paul.

He creates the wind

High winds arrived the other night. And as I settled into bed, the wind beat against our house: the massive, creak-the-house, heaving sort of wind that to me is just a little scary. I would guess that Wednesday night's winds were nearly as fierce as those of last September.

As day broke, we peeked out to check for damage. Those winds packed a wallop, all right, taking down a 50-foot pine tree out back.

I find the realness of God in such a storm. He breathes his power through the wind and I am awed by it.

He who forms the mountains,
creates the wind,
and reveals his thoughts to man,
he who turns dawn to darkness,
and treads the high places of the earth --
the Lord God Almighty is his name.
Amos 4:13