The Blessing of Brevity! and Timing

Riding to school this morning my 11 year old asked me if I wanted to hear a joke. Obviously I said yes but not without some apprehension.

You see my son is, at times, one of the funniest people on the planet. I take a great deal of pride in the fact that he is a rather quick wit. In the midst of a conversation he can lay out a well-timed zinger with the deftness of a Catskills stand-up. I am also convinced his inability to withhold such zingers will one day result in a black-eye from somebody with a lesser sense of humor. But that is another story for another time.  The fact is that regardless of how funny he can be he hasn’t mastered the art of telling a joke.  It can be pretty bad but he's working on it.

A nice, simply structured joke heretofore is an enigma to him. It may be due to his talents as an artist. He is an amazingly, detailed illustrator.  I think this attention to detail leads him to include an abundance of information in a story and it clouds his ability to tell a joke well. Maybe it is a genetic trait that didn't pass down. But it will be OK I guess. My sister can't tell a joke worth a hoot and she has led a relatively happy life. Somehow! I mean we didn't shun her because she could tell a joke.  Well, we didn't shun her much.  

Oh well, back to this morning and he tells me his joke.

"Two guys are flying with Jet Packs and it is awesome.

They are going all around and flipping and dipping and having a great time

Then one of the guys asked the other guy, the one who built the back packs, he made them in his garage cause he wanted to fly and he used spare parts. He has him how to land.

The stunned inventor says he isn’t really sure and that maybe they should just turn off the backpacks and they would fall.

The first guy calls the second guy an idiot."

(See what I mean?  Painful!)

This was followed by my terribly excited and obviously, proud son laughing and asking me if it was funny.

I chuckled that fake Dad laugh that I have had to master due to my son's affliction.  I gritted my teeth and said it was funny. Then I thought, hey, teaching moment!

“But do you want to know how to make if funnier?”

Ever the performer my 11 year old said yes.

So I told him to try it like this.

Two guys are flying experimental Jet Packs.

The first guy asks the other guy “Hey, How do we land these things?”

The inventor replies “LAND?”

My son didn’t laugh. 

Uh Oh!  

He just got a quizzical look. 

Did he not get it?  
This may be worse than I thought.  I briefly wondered if there may be a surgical solution.

Then it hit him. 

The light bulb came on and it was followed by a huge grin.

You see, I said.  "All you need is the funny.  Once you hit the funny stop talking."

As we turned down the road to my son’s school we started our morning ritual of saying a prayer for the day. It was my turn to pray out loud. I finished as we neared the end of the drop-off line.  I asked my son if there was anything he was particularly thankful for today. He pulled on his backpack and started to get out of the car. Then he looked back over his shoulder and said,

“I am very thankful that you taught me how to make my joke better!.”  Then he flashed a toothy smile and ran into school.

Now that's what I call timing!

I called my mother Momma!

I called my mother Momma. 

Occasionally when I was kidding around I would jokingly address her by one of her God-given names, Lola or Earlene and my tongue was planted firmly in my cheek. It was never Mommy and "yes or no" was almost always followed by a proper southern "Ma'am".   If we were arguing I called her Mother, something my wife first noticed.  But whatever I called her it was always done with love and respect.

By definition every Mom is a force of nature in her child's life. In Momma's case she was a force of nature in a more traditional sense to countless numbers of people. Those that knew her understand. My Mother never "slipped quietly" into a room.  My Mother never stood against the wall. My Mother never waited for somebody to do what needed to be done.  The moment Momma entered the room it was her room. She stood in the middle of every room because whatever was happening wasn't happening on the edges. She was a woman of action.  There was not a task too small and definitely not a task too large. 

You need a wedding director? Call Earlene.  You need a fundraiser organized? Call Earlene. You need somebody to run the booster program? Call Earlene.  You need a choir director? Call Earlene. You need an event catered? Call Earlene. You need somebody to manage feeding 400 people a night for 4 nights to raise money for a school trip? Call Earlene. You need to have 15 teenagers spend the night and have them fed and ready for church the next morning? Call Earlene.   Actually, to be accurate you didn't have to call her because half the time it was her idea to begin with.  She was an uber- multi-tasker before multi-tasking was cool. It is said that you can never have too many irons in a fire if the fire was hot enough. Mom's fire burned and burned hot.

In my last two years of high school, apparently Momma was beginning to fear "Empty Nest Syndrome".  So she started her own business. Two years later she owned and operated three day-dare centers that cared for over 150 children every day.  One of those was in our basement.   Not to rest on her laurels she also joined the NC Association of Daycare Owners and spoke on their behalf before the General Assembly. No, Momma was no shrinking violet.

Momma  was a classically trained musician.  I know that I am biased but she was a phenomenal singer. She could inspire with her performances. She was a beautiful soprano with the ability to the rattle the rafters of any church so fortunate to have her bless it with her voice. Anyone who ever heard her sing "The King Is Coming" was never soon to forget it.  She was choir director of our church and a friend, confidant and mentor to dozens of youth and members over the years. 


Of all the things that made Momma special, her innate ability to praise, inspire and motivate others to step-up and participate is the one I remember the most.  Go look up the word "ENCOURAGER" and there would be a picture of my mother. Had she even remotely enjoyed sports she would have made an awesome coach.  There was very little room in Momma's vocabulary for "CAN'T" and if you told her there was something you could not do, her typical reply would be "Ah, Bull, I know better."  Then she would stroke your ego and tell you all the right things to pump up your confidence. Then, if that didn't work, the next step was a swift kick in the pants. But make no mistake it was always done with love.  Through the sheer force of her will you would find yourself standing up doing exactly whatever you thought you couldn't do ten minutes earlier.  I saw her do it 1000 times and each one was beautiful.

We lost Momma way too soon almost 16 years ago. The reception line for her viewing lasted nearly 4 hours with a line out the door.   Time after time guests wanted us to know what Momma had done for them.
"Your Mom was really there for me when my Dad passed."
"Earlene is the only reason I went to college. She told me I could."
"Your Mom always made me feel special."
"Mrs. York stood up for me when nobody else would."
"She just made you feel better when she came into the room with her smile"
Over and Over and Over.....We had always known it but I don't think we had a full appreciation of her reach until that night.

Earlene Brown York was larger than life.  I am thankful she was/is my Momma. The biggest regret of my life is that my children never go to meet her.  She would have eaten them up. However,  I am comforted in knowing that because of her I am a better Father to my kids. I know that I am a better Husband to my wife and a better confidant to my friends.  I know that the best parts of me are better for having had her encouraging, prodding, praising and loving me.  I miss her this Mother's Day and I miss her every day. 

So if you can  I suggest you drop what you are doing pick up a phone or better yet drive to your Momma's house and tell her you love her.

Teacher Appreciation Week - Wrap Up

Appreciation weeks are great but they are never enough. 

We should appreciate our teachers every day. We should also appreciate our Parents and families and friends and veterans and policemen and ….. Well you get the point.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the number of educators in my own family.  Two Aunts, an Uncle, three cousins and my mother taught public school music for a time.  My father was also a beloved high school teacher for nearly 20 years before following other pursuits.  I think he always regretted leaving.  It has been 30 years since he taught but to this day he rarely goes out to eat or to the grocery store when he doesn't get a hug or a howdy-do from a former student.  The impact a kind and decent person can have is limitless.

There are not enough days in the week for all the great teachers. So on this last day of appreciation I figured I would list some more great ones. In addition to the phenomenal cast of teachers who suffered me over the years I have included many fabulous teachers who have suffered my children and by extension me.  There are countless friends and family who have answered the noble call of teaching who I would like to list as well.  Feel free to share the names of your favorite teachers in the comments.  Even better sit down and write them a note.  I am sure they would appreciate the quaintness as well as any proper spelling and grammar. Thanks for all you do!

Mrs Hardin, Juanita Schnieder, Jeanie Teague, Mark Crawford, Kathy Chambers (had my first crush on her hubba hubba  ) Johnny Woody, Ruth McConnell , Hugh K. Terrell, Susan Snipes, Rudy “Big Daddy Rabbit” Reeves, Carol Haney, Darlene Lowe, CAROLYN BREESE (Best Math teacher ever), Donald Nesbitt, Tuscola – Cathy Walsh, Robbie Hargrove, Charles Patterson, Valerie Ray, Kim Corzine, Randy Pressley, Dennis Hefner, Martin Banner – Modern Day Teachers – Candice Berman , Mrs. St. Louis , Mrs. Reid, Jennifer Haithcock, Michael Graham, Miss Yow, Bryan Johnson, Matt Gowdy, Miss Tinch, Brittany Ivey, Mandy Stephens Burns and on and on and on. I have missed more than I’ve mentioned and for that I’m sorry. Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!!! Thanks to All of You!

Teacher Appreciation Week #4

When I think of great teachers I think of commitment. When I think of committment I think of Ms. Marcia Mize

For a little background “The Smoky Mountain Kids” was a singing and clogging performance group founded and directed by Ms. Mize.  All the kids were students in the Haywood County School system and members had to audition to join.  Performing any number of songs including show tunes, folk songs, contemporary music and standards we were also a competitive level clogging team. Yes that is a thing for those not familiar. We practiced and performed A LOT!  That was all coordinated and directed by Ms. Mize.

No teacher ever got into teaching to get rich. For the great ones, like Ms. Mize, it was a passion and a 24 hour a day, 365 day a year labor of love. The most time any teacher ever spent with me was not spent during school. I was never assigned to her class. Heck, I never even attended her school. 

The time was spent on Tuesday nights in the Clyde School Music Room. It was spent on summer nights at Stuart Auditorium at Lake Junaluska, NC.. It was spent on the stage of the Cheyenne Saloon in Orlando, Florida and camping on the floor of Ghost Town’s Silver Dollar Saloon in Maggie Valley, NC to film a t.v. spot. It was spent on Cherokee Boy’s Club buses traveling over the southeast. It was spent at a camp ground in Ft Lauderdale. It was spent on stages from Florida to Indiana in school gyms, civic halls, recreation centers, churches, hospitals, camp grounds, country clubs and any other place that would have the Smoky Mountain Kids as their evening entertainment. She took one group to the World’s Fair and another to The Grand Ole Opry.  

Hundreds of hours? Thousands of hours? Tens of thousands of hours? ………………..Easily!

She wasn’t getting paid. She didn’t do it for fame. She did it because she loved her kids and loved to share her kid’s talents with all that would listen. I’m not sure how many years she kept the Smoky Mountain Kids going but I know it was at least 30. Membership averaged anywhere from 20-60 kids at a time ranging from grades 3-9. She did this day after day, week after week because she was committed.

She would probably tell you there were times she felt like she should be committed. But she was always there pushing, teaching, demanding and expecting great things from us. She always told us that we were kids but we were professionals. Act like it!   It may sound a little hokie but the ideas of “the show must go on” and “leave them wanting more” were just part of the lessons.

There are a lot of great things about Ms Mize that I remember. She was a fabulous musician. She had a commanding personality. She was a dear friend to my mother. She demanded effort and results and she got both. But most of all, as I look back, what I appreciate the most was the example of commitment she displayed for so long to so many.

Thanks Ms. Mize. You are loved and appreciated.

Teacher Appreciation Week #3

The most fun, interesting, enjoyable and fulfilling classes I ever took at any level of education were the choral classes at Tuscola High School conducted by Mr. David C. Traynham . Bar None!

To be fair he had a built-in advantage with the fact that I enjoyed singing and performing. Under that same rule my history teachers had an advantage over my chemistry teachers. But, Mr. T  made full benefit of the opportunity.

He took groups of kids, many of whom had little or no musical background, and turned them into some remarkable, award-winning ensembles. He was a superb musician with a passion for singing and he shared that with his students. I grew up in a small mountain community in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. By traditional standards it wasn't what you would call "cultured". Like anywhere we had our outlets and school music programs were one of them. You never had to prepare an audition piece for Mr. Traynham.  He usually just let you sing My Country Tis of Thee.  I shutter think of the thousands of renditions he suffered through over the years. However, the quality of performances that he encouraged out of a bunch of small town, mountain teenagers always amazed me and still does.

His was a respected name in our house and my family adored the man. When my mother passed away there was no second choice of who to ask to sing at the funeral. I was heart broken when he was unable to sing in my wedding. Unfortunately I was getting married the same time his choirs were competing in a national competition in Florida.  A competition I am pretty sure they won by the way.

Most of his students felt the same way about Mr. T. The guys thought he was cool and wanted to be him. The girls thought he was handsome and  had a crush on him. I know for certain that if he is reading this then he just rolled his eyes and blushed.  His wonderful wife Brenda probably just rolled her eyes as well.

He shunned any spotlight and placed every bit of praise on his students. He was reserved and deliberate with a dry yet sly wit. I remember the time to prove his toughness to the group he chewed 2 aspirin without water. Predictably he started choking and grabbed for a water bottle and got the laugh he had intended all along.

He put his students into positions to be applauded and praised. He gave his students the opportunity to achieve something that most of them never thought they could achieve to begin with or ever have the chance to do again. They got to be on a stage with a spotlight and hear applause for their performances. They got to feel the warmth and pride you only get with a sense of accomplishment.

That is a pretty awesome gift to share with one student much less hundreds if not thousands over the years.

We were lucky he was ours. Thanks for everything MR. T!

Teacher Appreciation Week #2

You don't usually think of 5th grade being a turning point but for me it was. 

Many of you may find this hard to believe but taking things too seriously is not an affliction with which I suffer. I was always a bit of what they call a “Cut Up.” Surprised, I'm sure.

I had a rough year in 4th grade. I stayed in trouble. My grades dropped and I just didn't seem to get along with my teacher very well. I remember being nervous about 5th grade at Bethel Elementary because the three 5th grade teachers all had reputations of being pretty tough. I doubt that is the way we described them when we were 10 years old but age has brought decorum.

One of these fine ladies, Doris Washam, had even had the audacity to pull me out of the cafeteria for acting like an idiot even when I wasn't her student. She obviously didn’t recognize my prowess in the fine arts of “Milk Drinking Races” or “Belching Contests”. Sad really because I was rather awesome at both.

Mrs. Wahsam was a tall, statuesque lady and an imposing presence especially to a 10 year old. I am not ashamed to admit that she scared the hell out of me and I did not want her for 5th grade. Thankfully, my wishes were not answered. 

I would come to realize that Mrs. Washam was not some crazy, mean, distant teacher that I had made up in my mind. In fact she was a wonderful teacher and a marvelous person. She was kind. She was considerate and maybe most importantly for me she was "tough". 

She was the first teacher that I ever had who called me on my BS and that was before I even knew what BS was. She refused to let me get by without trying. She challenged me to take things seriously and to expend some effort. When I did something poorly she expected me to do better. When I did something well she expected me to do it great. When I did something great she expected me to do it again. 

I remember one time she overheard me make a completely inappropriate joke to one of my friends. I felt a quick pop on my backside and turned to see Mrs. Washam looming over me. She quickly admonished me for saying something so crass. It was not to happen again.  I swear, as she turned around to walk away I caught her give a quick smile and shake of her head. It was as if to say, "That boy!" She may very well have found me charming or funny but she never let that get in the way of expecting the most out of me. I also never made another off color joke. At least I never made one in ear shot of Mrs. Washam.

I will also be grateful to Mrs. Washam for one particular conversation she had with my mother and how great it made my mother feel. There aren’t many greater joys for a son than to have someone sing his praises to his Mom. Mom mentioned it often.

I have not seen Mrs. Washam in years. I hope she knows what a special influence she was to me and I am sure countless others.

**Update**
Sometimes life surprises you. Friday was my Father's funeral. As is tradition in the south we hold a "Receiving of Friends" prior to the actual funeral. Traditionally it is held the night before but we held ours prior to the service. As I was standing in line shaking hands and hugging necks I caught a glimpse of a wry smile out of the corner of my eye. Her hair was a lighter color and she stepping a little slower but she was impeccably dressed as always and  I recognized her immediately. The last time I had seen her was once when I was home from college at least 25 years ago.

Mrs. Washam had come to pay respects to my father. She came to support her student from so many years ago. 
I had held my composure for the last several days but I have to admit at that moment I was a puddle. She hugged my neck and I was 10 again. I got to introduce her to my wife and children and she was just as kind and gracious to them as she was to my Mother 37 years ago.  Knowing her and having her as a teacher made a great impact on me for years to come. Seeing her Friday, for me, was an act of grace and a precious moment in my life. NEVER underestimate the influence you have in the lives of others.

Teacher Appreciation Week #1

It is Teacher Appreciation week. I thought I would take the next 5 entries to recognize a few of the people who I was lucky enough to have as teachers over my life.

In order to attend the high school I wanted to attend I needed to take Latin. (it’s a long story) Luckily the Latin teacher at Tuscola Senior High was the one and only Michael Lodico. My Latin name was TITUS. I was in class with Octavia and others. If Mr. Lodico sees me today, some 25 years later, he still calls me Titus. He’s original to say the least.

Mr. Lodico made a 2000 year old, dead language interesting and fun. He was, and I don't think he would disagree, a little bit goofy and completely without pretense. As much as any teacher I ever had he seemed comfortable in his own skin. Students responded to him because of this. The roughest most cynical students would listen to Mr. Lodico  for no other reason than to be entertained. So, if he got you listening he got you learning.

The senior Latin students made a bulletin board for his classroom my sophomore year. It was a giant "Latin Monopoly" board and everything was in Latin. Not surprisingly everything from MATEL didn’t translate particularly well into Latin. “FREE PARKING” was one of those squares. Sadly I can’t remember the exact word they used but loosely translated it meant “ORGY”. Now that is funny especially to a 15 year old.

The fact that he was genuine and unafraid to be a little nutty made even the crabbiest kids realize he was, if nothing else, authentic. And that ain’t nothing!

I was lucky enough to have Mr. Lodico for senior English as well. He taught me how to write an effective essay and for that alone I probably owe him my college degree.

Mr. Lodico, for the leaning and the laughs and sheer energy you brought to class Titus says THANKS!