Write Now

Finally. Now maybe I can make more time to write.  

Two weeks of high stakes testing can wear you pretty thin.  Schedules had to be worked out for the gen ed kids, ESL students and those with IEP.  The whole affair to a ton of planning and sharing of resources across my grade level.

I probably, I could have, I should have been writing more.  I was just exhausted.  There, I think I’m finished making excuses now.  Let me get one more good night’s sleep and I will get back on track.  

Thanks,

Rick

My Writing friend, Stacey, got me thinking about the good ol’ days of baseball.  She wrote about her visit to Yankee Stadium.  The stadium will be imploded in the near future.

That got me to thinking about the old Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, PA.  I have lived in a lot of states in my life, but the baseball days of my youth were spent in Altoona, PA. and everyone there was a Pirates fan.  In 1960, I was going on 11 years old and facing my last year of Little League.

My buddies and I decried the Yankees as mortal enemies of the Pirates.  We all had our individual heroes on the Pirate team; Smokey Burgess, Whitey Ford, Dick Groat, Bill Mazeroski, and Roberto Clemente to name a few.

I remember that we gathered at different houses after school to listen to the games on the radio.  None of us had televisions.  We didn’t need them.  We knew what our heroes looked like from the Newsreels.  We immitated their styles of play.  We never played ball using our own names.

Our joy became complete that October.  Bill Mazeroski smacked a two-run homer in the bottom of the ninth to clinch the title.  We walked tall that day.  And even now, I can’t help but smile.

Well, my friends, this may take a while.  I have been blogging for some time on my .mac account.  When that was switched to .me, you lost your ability to comment on my posts.  I need your feedback.  Your comments are my course corrections as a writer.

So please be patient with me.  I will continue my journey here and work on transfering some of my favorite posts from the past.  Thanks for your encouragement.

Rick

September 11, 2001 is a tough day for a lot of folks.  It has a special meaning for me as I am a retired firefighter.  Three hundred forty-three of my brothers lost their lives that day.  The story of where I was and what I was doing will be the topic of another post someday, but not today.

September tenth I was reviewing my lesson plans at the end of the day.  It struck me that my students were only two years old when the planes went down.  How could I help them understand?  I recalled that I had spoken at a memorial service a year ago.  In my speech, I paid tribute to the families and children of the fallen firefighters.  I dug it out of my files.

The next morning, after the Pledge of Allegiance, I read it to my kids.  I wept from beginning to end.  I told them that as their teacher, I would keep them safe in my classroom.  I told them that as a firefighter, my friends and I would teach them to be safe and that we would be there for them in an emergency.  I showed them a book that had letters and pictures from children to the children of the firemen.  

I could not tell if they understand my explanation.  I gave them paper and colored pencils.  They began to write.  They began to draw.  I sat at my desk and covered my eyes with my handkerchief.  I sensed, I did not see the kids coming and going around me.  No one said a word.  

Time passed – twenty minutes or so.  I opened my eyes.  My desk was strewn with letters and pictures.  My aide took the kids to P.E.  I read the letters.  I looked at the pictures.  I wept again.  I still weep when I think of them.  I think I weep because of their loss of innocence, because of the expansive depths of their understanding, because of their compassion.

I have each of their letters and pictures.  I know exactly what I will do with them.  I will tell you next week.

Peace,

Rick