Twenty Years Ago: January 2004

I was surprised by all the ways that January 2004 was similar to January 2024. It was quite different, of course, but the similarities showed how things had not changed. While this reflection on twenty years ago has been a wide-eyed tour of the past, it also shows how my present is still connected to that long ago time. 

I laughed when I described our return from vacation as, “mildly overwhelming” because I was feeling the same thing after I got off the plane with my twenty-something children and my aging eighty-something parents. 

Similarly, the entire family spent a few days, “bubble headed” then and now. We got home and everyone went to sleep, even though it was 7am. Some of us took longer to get back on Central Time – the same someones as twenty years ago. 

We arrived home exhausted and, as I went to bed, “I was so tired last night that when I tried to read, the book kept slipping from my hands.” I had napped earlier but it didn’t matter at all. We were pooped! 

Twenty years ago, my daughter got a stomach bug as we got home from vacation. The same thing happened this year. However, this year, she had to suffer on a plane back to D.C! I felt guilty that I could not nurse her the way I did in 2004. 

Fortunately, unlike 2004, none of the rest of us caught that bug. In 2004, it went through the house like that nauseating montage in the movie version of The Secret Life of Dentists. In 2004, we also shared colds; not doing that this year.  

I laughed out loud when I referred to, “The ladies of the morning;” my mother, my wife’s sister, and my wife’s aunt, who would always call us before 8am. While that no longer happens, my wife and daughter have a morning call routine now. 

As it was in 2004, I returned home and I almost immediately planned the next trip. Then it was a spring break visiting my cousin in Florida back then, this year, it is little jaunts, local science fiction conventions, and a February escape. We no longer celebrate spring break. 

January remains a month of dental visits for most of us. While we no longer have a dog, my daughter’s dog had his dental visit, too. He is in much better health than our elderly ailing dog was in 2004. I was considering doggie diapers, the insulin was so ineffective. 

When my parents moved recently, I found a disc with old photos. My father took photos of the house in 2004 for insurance purposes. Most of the house looked pretty much as it did before they moved. 

That is where the similarities end. In 2004, we had some significant snowfalls, the water main broke and we had no water for a while. The furnace’s pilot light went out and we spent a very cold evening before we figured out the issue. We saw The Lion King with the folks and the kids. It was a little much for our younger child. 

As I have written about in the past, our school moved finals before winter break a few years ago. In 2004, we had two weeks of class then finals, and then the start of the new semester. That makes things more stressful. I do not miss all that grading! I would sit in my younger child’s room and try to get on the school network since the school was just over the fence. Sometimes it worked. 

I often told the story that my parents complained that their grandchildren always used “please” and “thank you” with them. I didn’t know my reply was exactly twenty years old, “At dinner, when my father made his please-thank you comment, I informed him that we were making a special rule just for him. Where the kids normally said, “please,” they would instead say, “now” or “darn it” and instead of “thank you,” they would say “finally” or “it’s about time.”

My daughter made the school spelling bee. I really don’t like spelling bees.  I rehearsed and then officiated a bat mitzvah since our congregation had not yet hired a rabbi. Like this year, the end of the month brought snow and brutal cold. 

Finally, “I was awakened at 1:55am by a  phone call telling me that the folks alarm had gone off and should they send the police? At that time of night, I thought it best to have the police go look around. However, if the problem was something inside, a burst pipe or other problem, they wouldn’t see it. I needed to go to the house. So I got dressed, bundled up and off I went.” Fortunately, that situation has not happened often. My parents just moved out of that house and now live only ten minutes north of me. 

If you ask me what were the highlights (or lowlights) of January (or February) of 2004, I probably could not have provided many specifics. When I read my old journals, it come back powerfully. Things have changed so much, mostly for the better, but I miss when my kids were little and my parents were younger. I do not miss the frenetic and stressful life we lived in 2004. 

Twenty Years Ago: November 2003

 I must have had a cold for all of 2003!  November in 2003 was rainy and my son had a cold, too. While later in his life, I would wish for rain to cancel baseball games, in 2003, I dreaded rain because it did not cancel his soccer games. Can you see how much I loved sitting outside watching my children’s sports? 

My elder child was trying to battle her way into the school’s gifted program. She was upset that she was not selected and I had to hide my relief, “There are so many problems with that program. If she was selected there would be more issues than if she was not. Let her do her “gifted” thing in high school. I do not see that those who have been TAP’d have any advantage over those who do not. Often, they are more arrogant and more concerned with grades. Some are brighter, most are not. This is a blessing in disguise.” Of course, my child did not agree – until she got herself into the program in middle school. Then she understood what I was talking about. Oh, well. 

In November of 2003, I was phenomenally busy, “I am fighting the overwhelmed feeling. This weekend, I’ll take my Sunday School class to Willowcreek. On Monday, I’ll get essays. I need to get a Shabbat service ready for 12/5. Mango Street and the Book Circle unit are coming up and I don’t feel like either is fully developed. I am feeling like a ton is on the horizon. My grades are done, the parent notices are due. Get me to the end of the year.” 

I was also preparing our yearly holiday card. Prior to digital photography, getting a good picture could take months: shoot a roll or two, have it developed, reject the results, rinse and repeat. Fortunately, in 2003, I had my first digital camera. However, my three editors/critics could be very demanding; they wanted only their finest images on our yearly greeting card. It took a while to come to an agreement. 

Like this year, November meant a Saturday at Windycon. Since I was preparing to officiate at a bat mitzvah, I was debating whether to see one more mitzvah on a Saturday or travel to the convention. I made the healthy choice and gave myself a wonderful Saturday of celebrating science fiction and fandom. 

It was in 2003 that I integrated my Sunday School curriculum. In 2001, I taught comparative Judaism and in 2002, I taught comparative everything else. Why it wasn’t clear to me that was out of balance then, I am not sure. Perhaps because I was out of balance, too. So, I reorganized religions by theme and philosophy, had five field trips per year, and acknowledged that, since my students were going to many of their friends’ mitvzahs, we didn’t need to go to Reform and Conservative services. They were getting more than enough of those. 

In November 2003, I took my Sunday School class for our first trip to the megachurch in Barrington, Willow Creek. It was a foundational experience for them – and for me. We have been going back to Willow Creek every other year since then. 

The dog’s issues amped up in November. It was clear that the dog was now blind. I joked, “We have decided that we need to hire a seeing-eye person for the blind dog. Well, not really, but poor PJ is really struggling and it will be a few weeks at least until he gets better, if he gets better. It is really tough.”

I took my new Humanities class on a field trip to the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. This raised my level of busyness to a brand-new pitch, “Teach until afternoon, meet with the team, come home, go back for the faculty meeting, come home for dinner and give PJ his meds and then go back for the field trip. I’ll be home again around midnight! But it will be a good day, even if it is an exhausting one.” My optimism must have substituted for my lack of sleep. 

If I was questioning the value and manner of grading my own students, the grades my children were earning furthered that process, “Over and over, I question the value of these report cards. In the short story we discussed in Power Reading today, ‘Tom Edison’s Shaggy Dog,’ Edison invents an intelligence analyzer and predicts that we will be able to ‘grade people as easily as we grade oranges.’ Isn’t that what it is all about? I read my Humanities kids’ self-evaluations. One thing that came up a few times was their resistance to our grading system. Kids want to be graded. What a shame.” 

It is interesting to look back twenty years and see who was important in our lives then and now – and who we no longer see. We used to spend a great deal of time with neighbors who had kids the same age as our children. There were several families with whom we had both family and couple dates. We don’t see any of them anymore. However, there are folks with whom we were close that we see regularly. Yes, there is a message there: relationships based entirely on the kids didn’t last.

So, teaching, Sunday School, running Shabbat services, getting ready for a Bat Mitzvah, the neighborhood homeowner association (the annual meeting had to be planned), planning winter and spring break travel, taking care of a sick and blind dog, and the kids’ activities made November of 2003 a very long month. I am tired just writing that list. Oh! I noted that I joined the school crest committee at school. Did I ever say, “NO?” 

Twenty Years Ago: October 2003

Twenty years ago this month was a remarkable contrast to my present life. In 2003:

My mornings were hectic and intense. I took my elder child to orchestra at her middle school, ran to my school for a morning meeting with a student club or a parent, and then into my first class. It was a sprint. In retirement, one of the things I enjoy the most is a slow and civilized morning. 

I wrote, “Weekends are NOT a break at all,” and “Days off are never days off.” Now, every day is a weekend and day off! 

I kept my calendar, notes, and contacts on my Palm Pilot and was considering purchasing a Palm Pilot cellular phone! Today, I have all sorts of devices that make that old PDA look like an antique – but I still have it! 

I rode a kind of activity rollercoaster. I wrote that my day could go from highly productive and then, “grinds and collapses.” I was highly dependent on my parents and my wife’s aunt to help fill in childcare. Now, I am spending a lot of time helping my folks. My kids live far away and are highly independent. 

I had an ill and elderly dog that woke us up in the middle of the night, left surprises in the kitchen in the morning, and needed a syringe twice a day. While I no longer own a dog, we enjoy visits from and visits to our daughter’s dog. He is young and active and takes me on a walk – and my daughter takes care of the difficult dog duties.  

My list ran me: “I need to do an oneg and get birthday gifts and all that. A parent meeting this morning after I drop off Q. Field trip numbers today, StageWrite applications. A real bits and pieces day. Nibble, nibble, nibble, nibble.” Now, I use my daily list to give my day structure and I try to keep it short! 

My journal entries were often short. One even ended in midsentence! Now, I enjoy spending time reflecting on the day past and using my journal to help me focus on goals and tasks. My daily journal entries can be a little luxurious. 

Juggled time with family, friends, kids time with their friends, and date night time. Now, my time is flexible and far more balanced. I feel way more in control! 

My children were very young. They were losing teeth, growing physically, and figuring it all out. Now, they are working adults who help me and their grandparents. 

I worked with my children on homework and encouraged them to go beyond just the minimum requirements; “I tried not to hound Q into doing her homework. I played checkers with Jonah while she researched the lightbulb and filled in a math grid. She then read and practiced violin while Jonah set the table and I tried to kill the wasp that had somehow come into the house.” Now, I find I sound like my own grandmother and worry that my children might be working too hard and doing too much! 

“We went to Carmen’s last night and I was stuffed.” Oh, I long for the long-gone pizzeria of bygone days. I love stuffed pizza, but I fear I’ll never have another like Carmen’s! 

I was preparing to be a rabbi-substitute for a bat mitzvah! Our rabbi had just been hired and we had two bat mitzvahs that were scheduled before he was fully on board. So I attended mitzvahs to see how it was done. That role was expanded later: now, it has contracted and I am rarely a rabbi-understudy. 

I was wondering about the internet. When thinking about our school’s annual charity drive, I asked myself, “Can we use the internet to make money for school chest– perhaps send folks to a website?” Amazon wasn’t even a powerhouse yet and buying things on the web was sometimes risky. If only I had pursued this further! 

I was just beginning to see the possibilities of the internet as an extension of the classroom, “I got the idea for an essay tutorial online. I organized it and started it! It is no small project and I will work on it so it is ready for the Humanities kids’ next essay.” I experimented with how kids might use the web both in and out of class. Now, I have a former student running an AI-based educational website! 

I was grading during every free moment. I don’t miss that at all! 

Halloween was a really big deal involving a parade at school, parties, neighborhood gatherings, and of course, the dreaded house-to-house trick or treating. Now, Halloween is no more than greeting the handful of kids who appear at our door. 

While it is interesting to look back, I would not want to go back. These trips into my past journals make me appreciate how much young parents must handle each day. It also emphasizes that twenty years is a very very long time ago. Youth is not wasted on the young; I could not have done what I did today. 

Twenty Years Ago: September 2003

I love the fall. I love the start of school. I love Rosh Hashana. I love September! The weather cools down and trees start to change color. It is a time of endings and beginnings. 

In September of 2003, we were all starting school. My daughter was starting fourth grade and my son began kindergarten! I started my seventeenth year teaching at the high school. We took photos of everyone’s first day of school – and none of us started on the same day. 

I have written about the start of school before. While I love the start of school, it is not without anxiety. I had several evenings of teacher nightmares. I had spent hours and hours setting up my classrooms and preparing materials, lessons, and lists. 

My Peer Helpers were very busy during the first week of school. They accompany transfer student and escort them to classes, help them get books, sit with them at lunch, and assist them in their acclimation to their new school. I did the logistics of pairing students, writing passes, scheduling lunches, and making sure that every non-freshmen new student had a Peer Helper guide. 

And I had a new teaching partner and two new teaching teammates! The new Humanities team met their large classes in our double classroom! It was exciting, frightening, and exhilarating – but not without challenge. On the first day of school, the Wi-Fi network went down. The kids did not yet have devices, but I was very dependent on my laptop. It was a good lesson in always having a plan B! Glad I was also trained in improvisation! 

The new class was a double period: 89 minutes long, “Wow! Teaching for 89 minutes is exhausting, exhilarating, and freeing! I can imagine that teaching for 42 minutes will feel confined and packed too tightly. Although I had concerns about having too much time, and we did “whip around” a great deal and it was slow, things were neither rushed nor packed too tightly nor too loose or leisurely. We got a ton done and in a reasonable manner. The kids’ letters were awesome too! It is going to be a great year!”

The fall means movement toward the Jewish High Holidays. We have a “Meet the Congregation” Friday night service, choir rehearsals, and lots of planning. September temperatures are unpredictable. It was warm for both the beginning of school and the High Holidays. Neither the school nor the building at which we held services had air conditioning. I wore shorts to school, but I was in a suit for services.  

On the same night as my children’s open house, I helped with the Senior College Night presentation at school by talking about writing college essays. I started at my children’s school and then rushed back to the high school to come in just in time for my portion. Again,  no air conditioning! 

Of course, there were homeowners association meetings, kids’ orchestra rehearsals, Sunday School, soccer, PTO meetings, the Congregational Steering Committee, and the faculty advisory council. Then there are the surprises that create more opportunities for improvisation. My minivan suddenly needed repairs and then, once it was working correctly, the garage door broke trapping both our vehicles, “Okay, so now the garage is fixed but we have an electrical problem. When Quinn turns on her light switch, she blows the fuse for half the upstairs! She’s done it twice. Something weird is going on with her fixture. That is the same fixture the electrical guys worked on when they were last here. Could be a bad switch somewhere. Once again, we need a service person out here. Problem du jour.”

We participated in the annual ALS charity walk in the rain, celebrated my uncle’s big birthday, and went out for Saturday night date nights while leaving the kids with one of many former student babysitters. We struggled to find a sitter on a weeknight for our own open house night at the high school.

One thing the babysitters could not take care of was the dog: I had to give him his shots regularly in the morning before school and the evening before dinner. So when I traveled to Naperville for my uncle’s party, I had to be sure to get back home before the dog had an accident. We started making a trip home after dinner but before the show to ensure that the dog got his medicine. 

The dog would wake us up in the middle of the night, so we increased his insulin – again. My wife would walk to school at 7am and I would get the kids off to their school before getting to my classroom much closer to the bell, “This morning I will bring Quinn over to Shepard for her first orchestra rehearsal. After school, she has horseback riding with my mother. Then the ice cream social. It will be a long day for Q. We have a faculty meeting after school, so it will be a long day for us too!” When I did eventually get home, I would get dinner ready and, once the kids were in bed, grade well into the night. Oh, yeah, I was also preparing to be the rabbi-substitute at a bat mitzvah! 

“It feels like it has been so much longer than a month. New classes, new kids, new course, new teaching partner, new schedule, and on and on. New year too. 5764. Okay. I’m ready. Here we go!”

Twenty Years Ago: August 2003

August 2003 was an exhausting mix of summer and school. It was a swirl of family activity, classroom setup, travel, home improvement, socializing, celebrating, and dog drama. I don’t blame any reader who looks at this piece and says, there is no way all of that occurred in the month before school starts. I found it difficult to believe myself. 

This was a very social month! We got together with ten families (one at a time). We went to the Museum of Science and Industry, the Hancock Building, Illinois Railway Museum, Arlington Park, and the Planetarium. Without the kids, we went to the movies and saw the Broadway touring company of Mama Mia. We had dinner with our dear friend, Dorothy. 

We celebrated my mother’s 65th birthday with a big party at the Chicago Botanical Garden. My brother and his family came in for the event which was held in the garden’s pavilion. It was a fantastic evening. I toasted/roasted my mother with a fun ode in her honor. 

My folks, my wife’s aunt, and the four of us took a trip to the Wisconsin Dells. We took two cars and made a stop in Madison where my parents went to college. We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, rode the indoor and outdoor water slides, took our “dam pictures” on the Ducks, played miniature golf, got an old-time photo, and saw the obligatory water show at Tommy Bartlett’s. When I got home, I started plans to visit my cousin in Florida for spring break. 

The dog continued to need plenty of attention. I became the sole person to give him shots. He continued to have overnight accidents and thus was crated in the evenings. He was angry with me about that. He developed a sore on his cheek. We moved to a vet who was nearby rather than schlepping all the way down to Wilmette. The dog stayed at our new vet’s boarding kennel while we were at the Dells. 

Home projects continued. We finished replacing both the roof and the siding on the house. We also replaced all the gutters. Of course, it rained as we replaced the roof. The banging above my head was both headache-inducing and shook the house such that things fell off shelves in every bedroom. We replaced and repaired ceiling fans, 

On the school front, I had a workshop with my new teaching team. I prepared my classroom and spent a ton of time at school. I made copies of handouts, sent and prepared emails, created decorations, and made name plates and other welcome materials. I had dinner with the Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED) group. 

“I did some work at school and got there just after 11. I stayed until just after 3! That place is a black hole. I didn’t have a ton on my list but I did this and that and the time vanished. It took me more than an hour to send all of my e-mail letters from last year.”

Meanwhile, I was still taking adult Hebrew lessons, scheduling field trips to various houses of worship for my Sunday school class, and organizing the congregation’s Friday night services for the upcoming year. And in August, rehearsals for the High Holiday choir started. 

Sometimes, I wrote in my journal that I was overwhelmed, “I feel at odds and ends, unsettled. I don’t know if it is the approach of school, the lack of structure right now for this family, Sunday School field trips, Friday night services. There are a lot of balls up in the air. I worked on lots of this and that today, but I don’t feel like I put any of it to rest. Yes, I got two small tasks off the list but the big ones remain, and GROW! Each task gives birth to a new one once accomplished! I find myself blocking and wanting to NOT do some of this stuff.”

But at other times, I am just rolling with the coaster, “It is amazing the difference a day makes. I spent the morning in school today and got a ton done. Handouts are ready for the first day. I gave the policy packets to Jean’e and worked on the Power Reading word games. I finished the room signs and gave them to Debbie to laminate. My desk is all set up and I am ready to start decorating the room. If I spend a few hours tomorrow, I’ll be in great shape! The only thing that is not EXACTLY there are humanities lesson plans and those must be done collectively. Friday night services are coming along, I’ve made a variety of calls for Sunday School; I will just need to follow up. I have an appointment to take Q to meet with the camp lady too! All my projects are on the burners and cooking nicely.”

Thank goodness those Augusts are behind me! 

Twenty Years Ago: July 2003

Reading my journal from July 2003 made me feel old and tired. I needed to be twenty years younger to be that busy – and it was summer break! I was also reminded of how distant 2003 was; at least I no longer use a Palm Pilot. 

July of 2003 was action-packed and fun-filled in every domain. My to-do list overflowed. We had a new roof and siding installed on the house. I ordered a new computer, returning to a Mac after several years of using a piece of c. I worked on school projects, schlepped the kids around, and hosted dinners with every family in the neighborhood. 

“So much accomplished today and yet I feel unsettled. I put together the newsletter puzzle piece and fixed the Counseling Website. I got all my at-school tasks done. I read a great deal of Nervous Conditions and I shall finish it today and be able to get back to Kate regarding the choice. Lots of little bits and pieces done. I am glad I don’t live like this all the time. It would make me too scattered, too fragmented.”

In addition, I was preparing for our annual summer trip. I took the kids for their yearly physicals and even the van got its own check-up. I helped my daughter get ready for overnight camp, met with the school Peer Helping staff and my new teaching team, and consulted with the chair of counseling about his website 

The dog was having regular overnight accidents and was diagnosed with diabetes. I learned to administer insulin shots to him twice a day. To keep track of the insulin dose and its effects, I created a chart so we could figure out the correct dose. Finding boarding for him while we were away became a challenge due to his need for syringes. I changed veterinarians because I didn’t have time to schlep to Wilmette constantly. 

I am not a fan of home remodeling or construction, “I hate this kind of work anyway. The pounding, the disruption, the noise and mess. The chance of problems. These “solutions” seem to bring as many issues as they solve. Today siding off, tomorrow roofing, Saturday siding back on. I hope that brings an end to it. Enough already!” 

July wasn’t all work and tasks. It was also highly social. We went out with couples, hosted eight families over for dinners, participated in our block party, ate at Sweet Tomatoes multiple times, and had a Fourth of July party (on July 3rd) because we could see the Deerfield fireworks from our backyard. We marched in the Fourth of July parade with our congregation, had several out-of-town friends visit, and went to Great America, Navy Pier, Northbrook Days, and the library’s summer programs. My folks took my daughter to a special overnight grandparents’ university at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. The kids slept at their grandparents and great-aunt’s homes several times. They spent a ton of time at my folks’ house throughout July. 

While the kids were having a sleepover, my wife and I went to see a brand-new musical at the Goodman: Bounce! My wife had been adamant we get tickets. It is rare that she is so excited about a specific play, so I made it a special evening. We had a wonderful dinner and then got excellent seats at the theater. Unfortunately, the play was awful. At intermission, she almost yelled at me, “You said I love Stephen Sondheim!” That’s when I understood why she was so eager to see this play. She confused the two Stephens. “No,” I said to her, “You don’t like Stephen Sondheim. You like Stephen Schwartz.” We adore musicals like Pippin, Wicked, Working, Children of Eden, and others by Schwartz. She is not a big Sondheim fan. “Oh,” she replied, “Can we go home now?” We left during intermission. 

While my parents looked after the kids, my wife and I traveled to San Francisco for a week. We saw my aunt and cousin as well as friends from college. We visited with one of my former students who recently graduated from college. We drove along the coast and visited the Hearst Mansion. As always, we also toured several universities. My wife, in addition to the rest of her duties, helped kids with the college process. We did some wine tasting, sunset watching, and lots of relaxing. It was a refreshing change from our usual routine and I loved the slower and easier pace: the kind of pace I now enjoy in retirement. 

I printed out MapQuest pages to help me navigate the 850 miles I drove on vacation. I tried to check our home answering machine for messages with limited success. I had no way of getting my email without a computer. Disconnected meant something different in 2003. 

Upon returning home, life went back to the summer circus. My daughter attended art camp. The dog started regularly waking us up in the middle of the night to show us the big puddles he created in the kitchen. He also made it difficult to give him his medicine. He was remarkably clever about holding on to a pill and then spitting it out in odd places. 

At the end of July, I began writing my daily journals on my new Macintosh! My son lost his first tooth, we experienced some spectacular storms, and did our best to soak up the summer before August arrived, signaling the end of vacation and the return to the reality of school. 

Forgetting the Painful Past: Strange New World’s “Among the Lotus Eaters”

What happens if you can no longer recall who you are and where you come from? What are the effects when groups’ collective and individual memories are erased? What are the political implications when parts of society retain their history and other parts lose theirs? 

These are questions many people are asking when Black, Queer, and other histories have been removed from public school curricula. Legislators in several states have banned the teaching of subjects that they think will make some children uncomfortable while their removable makes others upset. Clearly, these topics might also make some adults uneasy. 

I don’t usually write reviews, but as I read commentaries on the most recent episode of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, no one directly addressed how this episode connects to this issue. 

In “Among the Lotus Eaters,” the crew of the Enterprise returns to a place of pain. They must “clean up” the mess they made when they had a very short but tragic visit to a planet in which three crew members died and several others were wounded. This visit seems to have resulted in “cultural contamination” where the iron age culture of the planet somehow has a Starfleet symbol, a clear violation of their non-interference order, the Prime Directive. 

Captain Pike and his crew must face their terrible past and try to deal with their interference in the development of this primitive world. Pike holds himself accountable for the fates of those under his command and accepts the responsibility of setting things right. However, when his crew arrives on the planet, they find these primitive people have phaser weapons and the delta symbol of Starfleet adorns the gates to their castle. Something is horribly wrong. 

Pike discovers the cause: one of the crew members Pike believed had died survived and made himself the ruler of the planet. Pike and his crew are attacked and awaken in a cage – and they no longer know who they are, why they are there, or what happened before. They have lost their memories. 

The dynamic of a ruling class that can retain their memories and a worker class that has no memory seems to me to be a science fiction commentary on our refusal to face our country’s past, whether our relatives were part of it or not. Even outsiders, like the surviving crew member, benefit from and exploit this memory-based caste system. 

When Pike and his landing party confront another worker, the worker rationalizes his lack of memory telling them that memories would be painful. The worker doesn’t want to remember his family, if he lost them. He doesn’t want to feel grief, pain, anger, and unhappiness. Having no memory saves him from this kind of discomfort and makes his toil more bearable. Sound familiar? 

However, our Enterprisians, even without their memories, retain key parts of themselves. Captain Pike knows that he has been separated from someone he loves and instinctually takes leadership. Lt. Ortegas finds strength in her ability to pilot the ship. Dr. M’Benga is driven to heal those in pain. 

When Pike finally confronts the wayward crew member, we learn that the ruling class has been manipulating the workers with fiction about their lost memories. They have used the workers’ lack of history to their political advantage. People without a past don’t cause problems or challenge the rulers. Repressing history and losing memory are the key elements in maintaining this abusive society. 

As our crew regains their memories and figures out how they came to be in this situation; our guide remembers his lost family. Tearfully, he acknowledges that even painful memories are better than none at all. 

In Greek mythology, the lotus eaters were a community that ate a fruit that put them into a drug-like sleep and thus they did not care about important things. They needed to come out of their daze and wake up in order to take real action. 

This episode was about the danger of falling asleep, losing our history, and thus losing ourselves. The danger was not only for the crew of the Enterprise on Rigel VII, but, a comment about our current world.  

We need to wake up! We must not lose our histories and thus lose ourselves. We must not let people erase the past for political power and personal gain. Our individual and collective histories are critical to us and our societies. As Captain Pike notes at the end of the episode, such forgetting is not a natural development. He rightfully justifies altering the situation so everyone may remember and takes the power-hungry despot into custody. 

There has been a lot written about how the newest Trek shows are “woke.” There have been complaints that they make political statements. The original Star Trek in the 60s made bold and clear statements about everything from racism to the Vietnam War. Star Trek and science fiction are, by their very nature, social and political commentary. 

This episode was directly addressing the need to hold on to our history, even when it is uncomfortable to face. It challenges us not to become lotus eaters but to wake up and confront the problems of our uncomfortable past and clean up the messes that we have made or inherited. 

Whether or not you agree with the message, “Among the Lotus Eaters”  does what good science fiction, good Star Trek, and good literature always does: use stories and characters to help us see our world in a new way – and inspire us to change for the better. 

Twenty Years Ago: April 2003

April 2003 was a mixture of familiar and foreign. I started my journal by discussing an episode of This American Life. Not only do I vividly remember this particular story, but I had recently listened to it! 

My journal was punctuated by anxious dreams. I dreamed that, “I was going to summer camp and they were making us go through some kind of medical checkup that I didn’t want. They were going to ‘open up our heads.’” I dreamed about picking the wrong waffles, being overwhelmed with bnai mitzvah prices, having my hotel bathroom taken over by a stranger, and being on crutches on an army ship! 

I wrote about relishing quiet and slow mornings (one of my favorite parts of retirement), making lots of lists (I noted that, “I live on lists”), and struggling with the change from daylight saving time (“That lost hour counts!”). April was still hardly spring; in 2003, it began with a snowstorm! 

Even at a young age, my kids were themselves, “Quinn enjoyed her day at the zoo. She is great. Jonah is so happy, he literally bounces into the room. These kids are fantastic.” They still are! 

My life was hectic and phenomenally full, “There is a great deal to do between all the projects: StageWrite, Road Rally, Humanities, Peer Helping, Confirmation, and just teaching, parenting, and day to day stuff. Stop! Don’t want to freak myself out!” And that list wasn’t even complete! My daughter had several x-rays and doctor visits, I was returning to school in the evening for SEED class and special events, the homeowners association, and Friday night services. Oh, and I signed up for an adult Hebrew class! 

Yet, my enthusiasm for teaching was powerful, “Each job is different, I suppose, but I happen to think that I have the best one around: I do good – and do well. I have seasons. I am always learning and helping others to grow. I work for the good guys.”

Over spring break, I prepared for the class I would teach in the fall. I used quite a bit of that precious downtime to grade and prepare for my current students – and I started a summer to-do list dominated by professional tasks. And I got another cold! 

There were school challenges. The return to school after spring break was like diving into a cold pool. I had a student who was unhappy with the B he earned on his essay. We scheduled a meeting to go over the essay and he brought his mother to it! I struggled with getting my website updated. All materials that I gave to students on paper were available online. This is typical today, but in 2003, very few teachers did this. 

I used the computer regularly in the classroom for learning activities. We didn’t have projectors in classrooms, so I had to get the C.O.W., the computer on wheels. The English cart was called the Literary COW or L.C. for short. 

I dealt with a case of plagiarism, made presentations for our writing tutors, proctored the state testing, facilitated the display of the Names Memorial AIDS Quilt, hosted classroom observers, and ran a rehearsal of our student performance of creative writing. After I finished the rehearsal, I thought to myself, “I can’t believe I used to do this every day!” I was so much younger when I was directing plays: Ha! 

The school selected one of my schedules! However, they also chose to begin the day twenty minutes earlier, which flies in the face of the research about teens and sleep! The staff member who spoke to the staff was a coach in favor of starting earlier. It would be great for outdoor sports. I created a two-sided chart to explore both sides of the issue and even wrote a thesis arguing against an earlier beginning to our day. I lost. Sports' needs usually win. 

April brought Passover, touch-a-truck, my daughter’s birthday party, the start of softball, homeowners association meetings, and lots of rain. I noted, “I feel drained. Tired. I know this is the normal Friday feeling but this has been a very full week and a very full day. Each day, my pocket list was overflowing. My list for the weekend is longer than it usually is.” I reminded myself, “I think I can, I think I can.”

My father and I got into a heated “discussion” about the Iraq war at our Passover seder. I resolved to get rid of my Windows computer at home and buy a Mac. I was stuck with the “pieces of c” at school. 

Yet, April was a typical month – then. I am delighted that my life has slowed down now. 

Twenty Years Ago: March, 2003

I am reflecting on my life twenty years ago by reading my daily journals. Click here for an introduction. 

If February was busy, then March 2003 was a five-ringed circus. I didn’t sleep through the night even when I was taking nighttime cold medicine. I spent much of the month recovering from a cold. It was snowy and cold and winter got its last licks in during its final month. “I think my body is falling apart,” I wrote. 

My daughter had orthodontist and pediatrician appointments, x-rays of her adenoids and wrists, violin lessons, and a performance of the baby scene from Free to Be You and Me for a school gifted program event. She planned her birthday party and, when I questioned one name on her invitation list, I told myself to, “back off.” She brought home a hat she made at school that said her new year’s resolution was to stop yelling at her brother. She yelled at her brother? When? 

We celebrated my son’s fifth birthday with a play party at the park district. Since he was getting ready to go to kindergarten, he had a marathon of inoculations at his yearly March physical and it felt like a reward (or punishment) for recovering from all his illnesses of the prior month. 

I kept track of all my appointments on my Palm Pilot, needed to replace the phones that were installed in our cars, and watched shows recorded on VHS tape on our VCR when I worked out in the morning. 

“I am the human pinball.” Often my schedule wedged my home, school, and parenting responsibilities into a small space. I wrote about finishing class at 12:15 and rushing to volunteer at the book fair at the elementary school and then returning to the high school for an afterschool meeting, coming home and cooking dinner before leaving for Shabbat services in the evening. On the weekend, we attended the school’s musical, attended a community workshop, took my Sunday school students on a field trip, and had families over for pizza and play.

I wrote that, “School is the simple part of my life.” Yet, the more I read, the less simple school seemed. I met with the Peer Helpers in the morning, taught two or three classes a day, was assigned a new teaching partner to co-teach an integrated social studies-English class for the next year, drafted on to a “think tank” to work on the new daily schedule, and moved toward performance of our creative writing event, called Stage Write. School had a lockdown drill I said I was, “overstuffed to the max.” 

As part of our congregation’s steering committee, I attended interviews and other events to hire a rabbi. We met the man who would become our rabbi this month. He did a Shabbat service and I drove him around the area. My wife felt that we should move quickly to hire him or another congregation would snap him up! I noted that I was the youngest member of the Steering Committee. Now, I am one of the oldest and most senior! 

In the middle of the month, we declared war on Iraq because President Bush believed Saddam Husain had weapons of mass destruction. My father and I saw this very differently and had some passionate discussions about it. 

I was planning trips for spring break and the summer. My wife’s mother was struggling and required a great deal of care and attention. She had an infection, then an allergic response to the medicine for it, and the doctor struggled to locate an alternative treatment. My folks returned from a vacation, were home for a week or so and then left on another one. Once again, I watered plants, fetched mail, and got groceries for their return. 

“Running, running, running. Lots to do and little time.” I went to my professional development class, SEED several nights throughout March, tried to figure out how to grade student journals without commenting on everything; we had clogged toilets, trips to the train station (to just watch the trains go by), and several dinners at Sweet Tomatoes. 

Yet, when things slowed down occasionally, I wrote, “I love lazy and slow mornings when we can get them.” Spring break was a chance to do just that, although I reminded myself to “use it well.” 

“Spring is here and summer is quickly being planned. Zoom, zoom, zoom.”

Twenty Years Ago: February, 2003

I am reflecting on my life twenty years ago by reading my daily journals. Click here for an introduction. 

February 2003 was the opposite of my life today as a retired empty nester. Although my overall tone in February of 2003 was optimistic, positive, and happy, it seems stressful and overscheduled from 2023. 

February 2003 began with the space shuttle Columbia exploding at liftoff and ended with the death of one of my heroes, Fred Rogers. My young son struggled with fevers, stomach bugs, rashes, and colds all month. Was it because I registered him for kindergarten?

During February, I was on a school committee charged with creating a new daily schedule. I created a wide variety of schedules including an eight-period schedule across six-period days so two periods dropped out each day. By the end of February, we chose this model and began to figure out how to implement it. 

I juggled teaching, parenting, volunteering, and other responsibilities. I had after-school department meetings, assemblies, classes split by the lunch periods, observers in my classroom, and meetings with my clubs. Yet, I noted that my students “were AWESOME” and days, when my classes were uninterrupted, were “joyful.” 

The pace was the opposite of my life today: I sent one child to school, and the other was either at preschool or with a caregiver. My wife and I left for school at 7 am. I returned around 1 to grade papers and get errands and tasks accomplished. The kids returned at 3. We had the afternoon routine of sports, violin practice, playdates, and park district classes. My wife came home at 4:30 as I was putting together dinner. After dinner (which was always eaten at warp speed), we would turn our attention to homework (everyone’s) and all manner of evening activities. We all plopped into bed early and exhausted! 

My mother-in-law had Alzheimer’s and was living in a care facility in Skokie. My wife visited her frequently. I was highly involved in our congregation, so I had evening meetings at least once a week – and Friday night services. I was also taking an evening professional development class. 

In my journal, I keep telling myself that I can handle it – and that I enjoy it. I think I did, even if reading these affirmations made me think I was trying to convince myself.  I remember those years fondly, even if, when looking back now, they seem chaotically frenetic. 

There were many days when I didn’t feel like a part-time teacher. After class, I often stayed for lunch meetings, conferences or phone calls, or after-school meetings – then I’d return in the evening for my PD class, a performance, or to supervise an event! 

It was also clear how much I depended on my parents’ and my wife’s aunt’s help with our kids. They took them to Disney on Ice, the Museum of Science and Industry, sleepovers, and countless activities. When we had daycare challenges, they stepped up. The positive power of my children’s relationship with my parents was clear, too. My folks left town and my kids complained about the length of their trip. I picked up my parent’s mail, watered their plants, and checked their house. 

My work life was stressful. I doubt that any workplace is without politics, but English teachers are passionate, independent, and value their autonomy. We stormed over curriculum, requirements, personalities, and teaching assignments. Should students be required to give speeches? What was the place of oral communication in the English curriculum? Should teachers be required to teach specific texts? Should all students in a given course read the same texts and have the same core assignments – and how much should they write? I remember teachers being highly judgmental about each other – and some whom I discovered talked a better game than they taught. 

One teacher was very critical of my teaching. She decided that my students were not writing enough. So, I shared my classroom website with her. All of my assignments, activities, rubrics, and materials were available online. I did not hear anything after that. It was more than a decade before that teacher (or most others) posted her classroom activities publicly. Click here to read about my use of a teacher website. 

My journal is filled with thoughts about my work. I scrutinized my choices and reflected on my students’ progress. I was my own biggest critic. For example, I posed these questions for consideration and further writing: 

“What is the balance between writing, literary study, and oral communication? 

How much focus on technology? 

Are there key texts that are pivotal? 

How does our leveling structure pan out post high school? 

How do kids use the skills we have taught in college and beyond?

Are there skills kids need in college and beyond that we have NOT addressed? 

What direction do we get from our long-range plan and Illinois State Standards? “

I got up early one Saturday morning for the College of DuPage teacher fair with our district. I met several very promising candidates, some of whom joined our department. At the end of the day, I spent an entire interview trying to decide if I should tell the young candidate that she misspelled the word, “literature” on her resume. 

I was uncomfortable with the overwhelming number of gifts that arrived at children’s birthday parties. To make matters worse, my kids didn’t really play with most of these presents. In February, I convinced my daughter to take a different approach. My daughter decided her friends should bring presents for kids at Children’s Memorial Hospital instead of for her. Don’t worry, I was not depriving my child of birthday gifts; she got several presents from us that were things she really wanted and were chosen carefully – and her grandparents and great aunt spoiled her thoroughly. In February, she and I sat down and designed her birthday party invitation and did research about what kind of gifts would work for kids in a hospital. 

And we had a violin recital, went to the auto show, had families over for dinner, trips to the doctor, took my Sunday school kids to the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Bartlett, and celebrated my parents’ forty-third anniversary! 

It will come as no surprise that I got a bad cold and lost my voice as the month ended! On to March! 

Twenty Years Ago: January 2003

In January 2003, I began a habit I have maintained to this day: writing every day, usually in the morning. Click here for an introduction to this set of posts. My journal entries often revolve around my family and our daily activities, and, of course, school. At the time I started journaling regularly, my daughter was 8 and my son was 4. Their schedules, especially my daughter's, dominated our lives. I drove her to various activities, which in turn dictated my calendar. She was involved in a number of activities, including playing the violin, dancing, forensics (with a speech tournament that month), playing basketball, and she had a lot of homework. I also mentioned in my journal a diorama project that I felt was beyond her capabilities, and I wondered about children whose parents couldn't or didn't help them with it. My parents and my wife's aunt appear in my journal that month often when they help transport my children from one activity to another.

I mentioned in my journal that January 29th was "crazy hair day" at my daughter's school. I have a photo of it, though I doubt my daughter would let me attach it to this post. At the time, when we were at a soccer game or school event and people asked which of the children was my daughter, I would simply say "the tall one with the hair." She had (and still has) beautiful, very curly, dark red hair, which was a constant battle to keep under control. She wished she had straight hair. When we first saw the movie Mulan, she cried, "I want her hair."

In addition to my children's activities, I was just as busy in my personal and professional life in January of 2003. I wrote at length about developing a new multidisciplinary curriculum. I was also sponsoring a performance of student creative writing called "Stage Write," serving on the Faculty Advisory Council, on a committee redesigning our daily schedule, taking an evening class in Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED), teaching Sunday School, running the congregational Shabbat services, and serving as secretary of the homeowners association. 

It is unsurprising that I was feeling stressed. I noted I had a sore neck and I was feeling a little dizzy, perhaps overwhelmed. However, I also noted that writing in my journal allowed me to vent, complain, rant, and express things that I couldn't express in other ways.

I was heavily involved in my school department. I tried to organize a departmental book club. I noted that the department struggled to have social events, and I was critical of teachers who didn't start doing their new course planning early and then complained about being rushed. At the same time, I asked myself if I really wanted the challenge and stress of those new classes.

January was a month of transition for all of us, as we were returning to school after winter break and adjusting to the start of a new semester. I didn't start writing in my journal on the first of the month; rather, the entries for this month begin at the end of the month. Next month, I’ll have a full month of journal entries to use. 

In addition to all of these activities, I was studying world religions for Sunday School. I listened to lectures on audio as I exercised in the morning. In my journal, I reflected on different philosophies and theologies, and even played around with the idea of creating my own religion, sometimes seriously and sometimes satirically.

At one point in my journal, I wrote, "I am the juggler, boy am I the juggler." This was a mantra for me during much of my children's younger years, as I felt like I was constantly keeping swords or flaming torches in the air and if I dropped any of them, I might cut off my arm or burn down the house! 

It was a little stressful to revisit January 2003, and I know more intensity is on the way. Thank goodness I am now retired. 

Has It Really Been Only Two Years of COVID? It Feels Much Longer.

Part1: Time

For many years, I have made a family calendar as a Father’s Day gift with photos from the prior year. The calendar starts in July of the current year. Of course, some of the photos must be older than one year because I start putting the calendar together a few months early to get it ready and printed. March is that border. The photos are from one year old until April then they are two years old. 

As I turned the page on my calendar, the photos shocked me. This was no April fool joke. They were from the first month of the pandemic. I had a moment when I thought I messed up and included much older photos. I had the opposite of déjà vu is: I felt like the photos could not be only two years old. They felt ancient. 

I have written about the experience of having my adult-ish kids return home and leave – several times during the first year of the pandemic. I have written about my fears of COVID and working hard to get everyone to take precautions. But this was different. 

What struck me, as 2020 appeared on my calendar, was the power of doubt and distance. We are just returning to a kind of normal. I am still wearing a mask when I go to a store, which I am doing more often than I did in 2020, but still infrequently. Yet, there are people who act as if the whole horrible situation is over and gone. I hope they are right. 

I can’t say the second year of COVID moved quickly, but those photos from two years ago feel further from my present. Did this year feel like several years? It didn’t feel that slow while I was living it. I was busy and days flew by.  But now, as I glance backward, the reverse route seems to stretch back well beyond only two years. 

Part 2: Weight 

I don’t think the issue is just about my perception of time; it is also about the enormity of the past two years. There were many major milestones. If I had to carry them all, it would be more than I could handle. Maybe it is the emotional weight of the past two years, the anxiety, fear, relief, and hope – and that cycle repeating over and over. 

I remember riding a Superman roller coaster at a theme park many years ago. Instead of sitting in a seat, the riders were placed in a prone position, as if they were Superman flying. However, it didn’t feel that way. I felt like I was squatting on all fours and the only thing preventing me from dropping to a horrible death was the support under my belly. With roller coasters restraints that pushed me into a chair, I had the illusion I could hang on to something if the bar in front of me released. If this Superman tummy thing broke, my only hope was that I really could fly. I guess I’d fly for a few seconds. When the ride ended, all I felt was relief. 

I haven’t become accustomed to that lack of control, helplessness, and unpredictability. I carry them with me. My mask may come on and off, but I am always carrying the concern and worry (and the mask!). And when hope appears, I am suspicious and tentative. When nothing bad happens, I am grateful and relieved. 

Part 3: Balance

Right now, we are in a COVID sweet spot. People are behaving as if they believe this whole horrible two-year-long episode is over. I hope they are right, but I feel certain they are wrong. I want to take off my mask, but I am afraid of what might happen to the people I love. 

Predictability is one of the many causalities of this pandemic. Uncertainty has become a permanent resident. Every choice feels like placing a bet in a casino, without the fun thrill. 

Reading news of the world is horrifying. I give to charities and do what I can to assist, but it never seems like enough. I am frustrated by politics. I scream at the television and lament my fellow citizens’ clannishness. It is overwhelming. I face the issue and then, having looked at it, wish I could close my senses and retreat.

I am tempted to quote Dickens (and some of you know my deep relationship with the work I am about to reference), but I am so grateful that these past two years were not the worst of times – for me. They were for so many – and continue to be horrible! There were some moments that ironically felt like the best of times. My children were home, then they left. We were all together and could support each other - and then we were apart and on our own again.

Part 4: Now

It was two years ago that the world got sick. It has only become more so and in ever-increasingly complex ways. Denying what we have experienced feels disrespectful to all of those who have suffered. Selfishly focusing on my people will not protect them. I wish the pandemic were truly over. I will do what the public health folks tell me is best for our collective health, but I am painfully aware that this is a group project – and like these projects back in school, too many members of our group are not doing their fair share. The good may not balance out the bad. Our current health may not protect us against future illness. 

Yes, I must learn to cherish now – and consider how to help others while preparing for an uncertain future. But I should not sacrifice present joys to future anxieties and horrors. I can be grateful for my good fortune, help those who are struggling, and stay grounded in this positive potential. These past decades, I mean years, have taught me how agonizingly fragile the present might be. 

VHS Time Capsule

Staying at home during the time of COVID has provided me with time to start to clean out all those old things stored in the basement. My family and I have thrown things away, packed up things for donations, and done a ton of recycling. 

Recently, we pulled four huge bins of VHS tapes out of the crawl space. In them were hundreds of recordings of Star Trek and other television shows I adore. I remember watching the first run of each series with a remote in my hand to edit out the commercials. I was certain that these tapes were going to be the way I got to watch these shows again. 

I had carefully labeled every tape. Each one had a list of the episodes inside the cover. I really felt like I was preparing my future viewing. I did not predict streaming services or DVDs. I no longer even own a video cassette player of any kind. 

So why is it so difficult to part with these tapes? 

It is not as if I am going to sit down and use the tapes, even though I do continue to watch much of the content that is on them. I don’t need old grainy analog tapes to do it. For several of the series, I have purchased DVDs that include closed captions and special features. 

The eldest of the tapes date back to the early 80s. My family was one of the last to purchase a VHS machine. I had been recording Star Trek on audiocassettes because listening was the only way I had to experience an episode other than when it was broadcast. So when that first VHS deck came into my house, there was no doubt what I was recording. 

I knew that the episodes I was recording were edited. I was aware that they had a few minutes cut from them for additional commercials, but at the time, there was no alternative. Even when I could purchase store-bought tapes of the episodes (which I did), they were expensive and I bought them slowly and savored each one. 

As I got older, these became my exercise tapes. I would watch them to make working out interesting and take my mind from the sweat and discomfort of riding a stationary bicycle at 5 in the morning. I still watch Star Trek while working out! 

I bought my own VHS recorder as a gift to myself for my college graduation. Star Trek: The Next Generation was being made and I recorded entertainment shows and tried to find any clip or glimpse of information about this new Trek. 

When the show finally premiered, I made sure that I was in front of the TV, remote in hand, for every episode. I recorded each one twice: once with commercials edited out and one with them left in. I am a big believer in backups. 

I did this for a very long time. 

I recorded The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, The Original Series, and the Animated Series on these tapes. By the time Voyager and Enterprise premiered, my life had become too complex to edit them live. But now I had a host of other shows: Babylon Five, Earth Final Conflict, Farscape, Alien Nation, and even some I had forgotten (remember Seven Days?).  I have not rewatched all of these series, although as I write about them, I am eager to find the services that stream them, even if I don’t know when I will have time to watch all I would want to. 

I know that these tapes are not the way I will now see these shows. I know that there is no problem with throwing them away or recycling them. But doing so feels like losing something special; something that feels both far away and very dear and important. They are a kind of time portal into a distant past which I don’t want to lose. 

The technology may be obsolete, but the feelings and attachments are not. These tapes are mementos of watching these shows broadcast for the very first time. They are relics of a distant time, heavy relics that are taking up lots of space in my basement. Unlike my affections for these shows, basement space is not infinite. I am going to have to come to terms with letting go of these tapes and being content with the feelings they engender when I watch what was on them. 

The tapes did not record my wonder, joy, and delight in these stories and sagas. Those can never be lost! 

Take More Photos

I wish I’d taken more pictures. With cell phones, photos have become ubiquitous. Social media encourages us to document everything and share, share, share. And that isn’t all bad. I am not talking about selfies. I am talking about non-selfies. I am talking about what goes on in those moments that are frequently undocumented every day.

I was a classroom teacher for more than thirty-three years. About fifteen years ago, one of my colleagues mused that we spend a significant percentage of our life at work and we have no photos of that experience. From that moment, I started bringing my camera (a REAL camera) to school – even when a camera was also built into my phone.

But I wish I’d done it far earlier. I wish I had photos of my early days. A few are in the yearbook, but I have no candids from my classroom, rehearsals, or meetings. I wish I could see the faces of my students in the late 80s and 90s. I wish I had class portraits of those Theatre, Sophomore English, Television, and my early Freshman English classes. I wish I took pictures of the library and the resource center and even the hallways before they were changed and updated. I wish I had documented my everyday life at school – and the wonderful people with whom I shared it.

While the staff changes more slowly than the students, people come and go. Students move through with regularity, but the personnel around me is constantly shifting. Remember that student-teacher? Remember that wonderful quirky and creative kid? I usually remember. I wish I had a picture, too.

What is it about the picture that validates and strengths my memory? Why is it that I can smell and hear and feel the moment so much more vividly when the image is present than when it is just in my head? And I trust my own memory less and less these days.

I treasure the yearbooks. I treasure the old photos that people post on Facebook. They bring me back and they help me remember and cherish the people I adored. I know there is a mosaic of photos out in the world waiting to be woven together. I wish I had more to contribute to it.

I have heard it said that, by taking pictures, the photographer is not fully present in the moment. I disagree. I find that my camera focuses me on the event (yes, I am aware of the double meaning of focus in that sentence). I am more attentive and aware of an experience because I am photographing it. The camera does not pull me away, it pulls me in! I see more clearly, specifically, and exactly when I am taking pictures. It crystalized the experience.

I became my department’s photographer. I documented the events and changes in the school and in my classroom. In addition to my children’s concerts, shows, birthday parties, and games, I also brought my camera for smaller events and day-to-day moments at home and school. I treasure these photos because they bring me back to the way I felt then.

That is the key. While I do want to document the way the old writing center looked or how my daughter decorated her bedroom, what I am really treasuring is how I felt at that time, in that space, with those people. I am affirming that what we did and who we were had enough importance to warrant memorialization and its influence is lasting.

We are worth remembering. We are important enough to hold on to. Our past matters and frames our present. I wish I had learned that earlier.