Be the Hero of Your Own Journey

This time of year is more than budding flowers and nesting birds. It’s promotion time for scores of young across the country. Friends have posted photos of precious preschoolers wearing mortarboards to receive tiny diplomas. Others celebrate their own or their loved one’s high school and college graduations. Seeing these pictures on Facebook as families rejoice over this life event reminds me that all of us are on a journey, hopefully a hero’s journey to live a worthy life.

In literature, students read about heroes such as Odysseus, Beowulf, and Atticus Finch. They analyze the differences and similarities in those adventurous lives. Some classes examine scholar Joseph Campbell’s version of the hero’s journey and learn to recognize archetypal calls to adventure; thresholds to cross; tests, mentors,  helpers, and hinderers; ordeals; seizing rewards;  traveling the road back; and discovering freedom to live. Anyone interested enough to know more can find models of this ancient pattern if they wish to look it up.

It doesn’t take long before an attentive reader realizes this prototype is also the story of each of our lives. Adventure in some form or another calls every one of us multiple times throughout our existence.  For some, it’s a siren call to foreign lands as missionaries, travelers, employees, or soldiers. For others, it’s a summons to marry and unite lives. This choice often results in children, an undertaking which certainly requires mentors and helpers to overcome hinderers and problems. To be alive means to join this hero’s journey. To recognize the steps along the way makes it more fulfilling.

It’s obvious new graduates stand at a threshold. Everything that’s been predictable is about to change. In short time, these people on the cusp of a new existence go from parents’ support and home to their own households and jobs where they are responsible to maintain employment, pay bills, and handle challenges. They realize they make their own decisions and no longer depend on someone else to tell them what to do.

Suddenly, it’s clear the guidance they received from loved ones helped prepare them for this day. I recall those early months on my own when I dug deep to remember what loving adults had taught me about budgeting and making do. Fortunately, I came from a resourceful bunch who taught flexible problem solving so handling difficulties might have caused stress, but it didn’t throw me off my intended path.

That’s the value, I think, in knowing the predictability of the hero’s journey. You know you’ll face tests. You know you need to find and recognize your helpers as well as your hinderers, and sometimes the difficulty is differentiating between the two. You know there will be rewards. Once again, it’s important to look for them. Sometimes they’re small and easy to miss. However, those who seek will find those treasures and can offer gratitude for large and small boons in life.

I’ve decided recognition is the operative word. We must learn to see and value individuals and moments, which adds richness to life that some never enjoy. For me, that adds up to that final part of this journey-- freedom to live. Truly being alive means savoring an awareness of those who enrich our lives and those instances where we experience life in that instant; whether it be catching a big fish, reveling in  a splendid sunset, snuggling a baby close in the middle of the night, or comforting an elder passing on.   

This time of year and its graduates remind us that we, too, are on a journey. We might travel a different path than they, but we also share helpers, hinderers, and rewards. Acknowledging these along our way improves the quality of our own lives. Happy trails.

Forget the Time Machine--Time Travel via Old Newspapers

Time travel has been the focus of many a story over the years and recently was in the news with reports about American scientists investigating its possibility during WW II. Michael Crichton explored the concept in his novel Timeline, which required rearrangement of participants’ molecules. Both of these examples are too daring for me, but I’ve found a way to safely journey through time that’s safe for my students and me. All it requires is access to old newspapers, which are available at the local library.

My introduction to exploring the past via microfilm was my master’s project. I studied the history of Ellis schools and discovered the treasure trove of additional information available in those little canisters of film. I learned about the first library, fire department, and street bricking in Ellis. Spinning through those little reels introduced me to not only the first schools and teachers but also declamation societies and fancy dinners and dances. I discovered Teddy Roosevelt campaigned locally. Reports of murders and natural catastrophes as well as support for victims intrigued past readers just as they do today.

Once I found this resource, I had to share it with my students.  I created a research scavenger hunt tied to a personal interview or study of an individual’s diaries and letters so my kids could scour the past to help them better understand not only their lives but also their communities.

Depending on the year they studied, Ellis and Thunder Ridge pupils discovered dates their towns got electricity and indoor plumbing. They were surprised to learn that early phone numbers contained only two or three digits. Analyzing costs of living created culture shock. The idea you could buy four or five gallons of gas for a dollar was novel. Local groceries advertising rib-eye steaks for 53 cents a pound and a gallon of milk for less than 20 cents made them long for the past until they found out what the average annual salary was. Once they learned that people earned much less, they didn’t long so much for the good ol’ days.

In a day when fewer people traveled great distances to shop or seek entertainment, towns like ours offered movie theaters, skate rinks, and bowling alleys, as well as several grocery stores and hotels. Students were surprised to discover how many services were available locally just a few decades ago. In discussions generated by their research, they analyzed why rural communities can’t support as many businesses today. They also understand that modern transportation makes it easier to jaunt to a nearby city where they have more selection.

The interview component of their assignment personalized their research. These teens visited with elders to learn what life was like for them.  If their chosen individual had passed on, they could read diaries and letters to answer their questions. One student met her great-grandmother born in 1922 this way. As she poured through old documents, she found grade school autograph books and stories of dating pre-WW II style. During the war, her grandma recorded a night when her community pulled their black out curtains as a security measure.

Other students discovered marriage during Depression years often meant young couples honeymooned by visiting relatives and returned to share a home with parents. Pre-antibiotic and pre-vaccine eras meant death commonly visited families. They also discovered ways people pulled together to accomplish work and enjoy good times.

Reading their reflections completed following this assignment allowed me to see that old newspapers and diaries have a broad appeal. Several students commented they’d found a new love for history. Almost everyone acknowledged that they gained an appreciation for those who lived in our towns before we did.

Almost Empty Nest

I’ve observed a great-horned owl on her nest for the past three months. This triggered my reflections on similarities between human and critter parenting experiences. It also added questions to those already swirling about my busy brain. One of those is do birds experience a sense of unsettledness like the one humans have when their young first leave home? After surviving those aching months when our youngest moved from home, leaving an unnaturally quiet house behind, I recall a moment when my husband and I looked at one another, and said something along the lines of, “We’re going to have to relearn what a world without kids in it is like.”  

As humans, we spend more time rearing offspring than wild creatures do. As a result, the empty nest stage jars our senses at first. To make it through those first weeks, we review photos and videos of earlier times with our youngsters. These remind us how clever, inventive, and cute they were. Thankfully, human parents have late teen and early twenty years when kids are out more than they are in to prepare for a future where only adults occupy the house.   

Seeing that great-horned owl and her nest progress from egg -laying to ready-to-fledge time has triggered a flood of memories about raising our girls. To compound these emotional flashbacks is the fact our eldest and her husband are experiencing the infant and toddler years with their two little ones. Between my watching these escapades through grandmother eyes and snapping weekly photos of maturing owlets, reminiscences of early parenthood invade my mind every time it wanders.

In February and early March, that owl momma attended her incubating eggs obsessively. Once they’d hatched, she’d fluff her feathers and spread wings wide to keep her babies toasty on frosty mornings. As weeks passed, I observed two downy heads peeking over the edge of the nest under momma’s watchful golden eyes. Eventually, days grew warmer and growing babies’ feathers filled in.

 As the nestlings matured, they crowded their home. Eventually, Mom ventured out to forage. I’d spy her leaving her young, who now occupied the entire bowl of their treetop home, gazing after her as she swooped low over the prairie searching for rodents.

Lately, her babes are often alone when I drive by. If that mom is anything like a human mother, she enjoys this freedom. While she’s hunting, her children mind the boundaries of their world, but like their human counterparts, it seems they inch closer to the edge every time I pass. The other morning, one daredevil stood on the lip of its nest, stretching developing wings.

One day soon, momma owl will come home to find her nest empty. I wonder if she’ll be as surprised as I was to discover my young had left home. Do owls reconsider their time management since the need to feed and clean up after offspring has ended? Will she soon perch atop power poles as she did last fall?

Whether human or critter, parenting cycles follow predictable patterns. For a time, babies tie mommas close to home with barely a moment to go to the bathroom alone. Slowly but surely, little ones mature, freeing parents from total dependency. In what seems like a flash, those youngsters develop until they’re ready to live on their own, leaving behind parents to figure out what to do with that extra time and space.

I guess we know what I did with mine. I started owl watching and telling you what I saw.

Spotlight on School Plays

While folks in northern and western Kansas might be a long way from Broadway’s bright lights, we enjoy our fair share of drama on the boards. Our actors are youngsters in our communities, and our directors are often teachers by day and drama coaches by night and weekend. Local wizards of the sewing machine and serger, forensic coaches, carpenters, welders, and likewise talented people are costumers, set builders, and backstage help.

Seeing one of these productions can’t help but remind a person that it does take a village to raise a child or in this case a cast full of lots of families’ children. The thespians commit a slug of outside time to learning lines, coming to practice, and helping assemble costumes and props for their scenes. During the day, they’re diligent students keeping up with the demands of at least seven different classes. After school, many go out either for sports or work part-time in local businesses. Somehow, they fit in family time.

While the kids are in class, the director keeps up with planning, teaching, managing, and grading for the courses that occupy those kids’ days. Somewhere house and yard work as well as the mundane duties of life like bill paying require time. By evening, that individual has slapped on his or her director’s beret and begun turning these usually normal teens into fairy tale characters, imaginary rabbits, or other theatrical manifestations.

Hours are never long enough for important things like eating, so parents provide catered meals to keep their offsprings’ metabolism running at full speed. Between times, they run errands to gather hats, capes, suits, dresses, and other necessities to add finishing touches to their children’s productions. Often they serve as ad writers, photographers, and publicity teams who interest area residents to pay to see the show.

After weeks of repeated entries from stage left or right and struggles with muffed lines, it’s time to put the spectacle on the road. Depending on the community, first run audiences are either the grade school students and future hams or local residents and loved ones who hanker to see their darlings perform. No matter what, everyone expects to appreciate the show. No nasty big city critics in these crowds.

During an evening or matinee, locals kick back and let the performers whisk them into another world. While enjoying the production, it’s easy to forget how much effort went into such a show. That hour and half play required hundreds of hours to devotion and labor from scores of individuals. In return, ticket holders get grins and giggles. The actors and stage crew savor working together as a team to provide a great show. Besides a few gray hairs, the director enjoys the satisfaction of knowing he or she coached, nudged, and otherwise prompted youngsters to go outside their comfort zones to bring unfamiliar characters to life.

Everyone, audience included, will share memories and stories that turn into local legends.  After I watch one of these plays, I never see those kids the same way again. Always, when we meet, even if it decades afterward, the aura of the personalities they’ve brought to life shadow dance behind them as permanent fixtures in their life stories.