A month of thankfulness, Part Four

I want to share these posts with you, to help you consider what you are thankful for. Perhaps some are identical, perhaps some are analogous, perhaps some are completely foreign to you. But the thing that should stick with you is having an ATTITUDE of GRATITUDE, always. Just this one simple change in your life, on its own, can transform you.

Some of the details of these posts are rather personal; obviously, I'm not revealing anything i don't want to reveal. At this late stage, my life is an open book for reading and enhancement of others. But it also means there may be things which don't make sense because you don't know my background. Hopefully it will be clear enough in context, but leave a comment if there's something that's unclear, and I'll clarify. May God bless you in this season of thankfulness. 

A month of thanks. No different than any other month, except the thanks are on here as well as in my prayers.

Nov 15. I am thankful for the mother of my children. Although in the last eight years she has tested the requirement I have as a Christian of "love thy neighbor as thyself" more often than anyone else, I was married to her for almost fourteen years, most of them successfully. She always had my back during those years, and was unwaveringly supportive of my career. We shared virtually all of our child-rearing philosophies, made a great team when it came to money, social life, and the like, and I've got to say, when the two of us were both in a good mood, we made the most uproarious comic duo in public or private. She was smart, funny, attractive, and with the exception of shoe purchases grounded.

And it's because of her that we have five living children who are unfailingly praised for every imaginable characteristic. Hamilton, Sutherland, Rutherford, Dorothy and Charlotte are as wonderful as I could imagine having for children; our late Emerson was just as beautiful and undoubtedly would have been everything else his siblings are as well. Her pregnancies were ferocious; she bore them (and the children) more bravely than I would have. Thank you, Wendy.

A month of thanks. It’s no different than any other month except that it’s on this blog.

Nov 16. I am thankful for the field of music education in America. Across thirty years, I was privileged to work with some of the most dedicated teachers and students the nation had to offer. Perhaps more than any other field today, music ensembles require a level of delayed gratification unseen in America. A concert, a marching show- heck, just to sound decent on an instrument takes months of practice before you can see the results. And so does success of any real kind in life.

My best friends were made through that career. Students from the 1980s are still on my FB feed. And the memories I have are many of the most treasured I have.

A month of thanks. Just like any other month, except that the thanks show up on here.

Nov 17. I’m thankful for modern medicine. I’d be dead long ago without it.

I would have gone to my grave a century ago, not knowing that conserving my exercise was the key to survival: TAM increases when the skeletal muscles are used, so unlike most doctor advice, I am NOT to stay fit to fight this disease. But without the muscle biopsy going into the electron microscope at the U of U five years ago, I’d never have known that.

And without the medicines available today to fight the pain and other symptoms, I’d be dead. Even a few days without the venlafexine knocks my gyroscope out of whack; if I’m out of pramipexorale, the spasms overwhelm my ability to sleep, and I can barely go a day without the pain meds before life is unbearable for me. It’s getting unbearable anyway, but I’d’ve been long gone without the morphine, gabapentin, and oxycodone which combine to fight the pain now.

A month of thanks. Just like any other month, except this month is sponsored by the Russians on Facebook.

Nov 18. I am thankful for all the students I’ve had the privilege of working with in my career. When I was twenty, I was helping my mother teach her band classes in Newcastle. One afternoon, she was too sick to be there, so I covered her class. (What goes around comes around - now I’m the one too sick to be in my classroom so my assistant covers for me. Funny, God. Funny.)

That particular afternoon, every child was of their father the devil - even sweet little Brandy. I was still young and terrible, not to mention a type A personality. I did a terrible job that afternoon, and it was the most miserable experience I’d yet had teaching.

As I drove home, still fuming, I felt ... really ... ALIVE. Puzzled, I went to where my mom lay in her bed, told her about the class and how I’d felt.

Her explanation has stuck with me: You feel alive because what you did *mattered*. Succeed or fail, at least you get to have the feeling that what you’re doing matters.

Which is NOT what I’d thought about working as a chemical engineering graduate from Caltech for a SoCal oil company, my assumed destination had I chosen to return there instead of staying home to care for my mom. That afternoon, after asking one question to each of my teacher-parents (“knowing what you know now, would you still have gone into teaching?” Yes.), I chose my lifelong occupation.

And it rewarded me no end. I don’t mean the handful of plaques for my work, or trophies from band contests, or even salary. I mean the literally thousands of young men and women who it has been my pleasure and privilege to instruct in life basics 101, Smith style. Oh, and an F# is second finger.

To all my kids who are no longer kids, thank you. (And I know we aren’t supposed to have favorites, but I’d take my Kuna class of ‘99 back in a heartbeat....)

A month of thanks. No different than any other month, except that it’s on this blog for a change. It’s November. Go figure.

Nov 19. I am thankful for the Internet and the worldwide media connections it creates. Because of such, I developed an interest in Japanese marching bands, the Canadian CFL, Brazilian music (and occasionally women), and most importantly Australian Rules Football (hereinafter referenced as “footy”).

Footy has been my sporting life blood for about 5-7 years now, although I’ve watched it for more than fifteen, thanks to getting Fox Soccer channel for a couple of years in Payette. Wendy and the boys would go to sleep, and I’d watch the game of the week at 11 pm or so Saturday nights, and then the highlights show on Wednesdays. Developed my first taste during the Brisbane Lions’ three peat in 2001-3, had an enforced hiatus for a few years, and re-caught the bug a couple of years later, watching the Swans/West Coast grand finals, Geelong’s three titles, and when live radio of every game became a thing about six years back or so, I began spending my Fri/Sat over nights for six months a year sleeping with the Internet radio on softly, so as not to wake Melissa first and later any children who might be up. (Dana swears she sleeps through anything, but it stays soft just in case.)

And having followed it semi-religiously, I’ve become enough of an authority that I write opinion pieces about footy for Australian readers! The Roar is an online sports mag down under which I write for (footy AND American college football), and the major footy source in the country, afl.com.au, is considering bringing me in as a “foreign correspondent for next season! Can you imagine any of that happening in the pre-Internet world?

(The funniest part of writing for Australia is that my editor has to correct my Yankee spelling! Think about the way the British spell, and you’re not far wrong.)