Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Thank You Falettinme Graduate
I attended my oldest son's 5th grade graduation today and it was a bittersweet affair considering that we've been part of that school and its quirky community for 5 years and, because our youngest is also leaving that school, our collective family footsteps won't echo through those halls anymore. My wife took it a little harder than I did, getting tearful and all. I classified it as natural change and that final moments in this life are equal to wide-open moments, for the most part, and that is just how it goes. "When one door is closed, another is open," said Bob Marley.
However, I was swellingly happy for my graduating oldest, so much so that after the ceremony, I caught him in the crowded hall and tried to give him a big old boa constrictor hug. Well, with me being a parent, and him being a boy within eyeshot of his buddies, he wasn't having no hugging stuff, so he tried his best to wrestle away from me. I wasn't letting him go, though, and a giggling tussle ensued whereupon, after a few seconds of this, our feet got tangled up and we both went down to the floor.
Heads turned quickly. Some of those heads hadn't seen the tussle so they must've thought that I'd just simply blitzed my son from his blindside and sacked him in the hallway. So, some faces sprouted worried frowns. My wife gasped and gave me that "Oh my God, I can't believe you just did that!" look, but my boy was laughing hysterically and whatever embarrassment that was creeping up my neck got instantly wiped away, and I laughed too, and the whole scene all turned into "A Moment." Father and son on the floor, laughing, shattering the solemnity of this stiff, weepy occasion and signifying that, really, this is a celebration. And, it seemed also a strangely appropriate way for a father to congratulate his big boy. That was great. Even my wife broke into a smile.
There was another defining moment that occurred during the ceremony, before I tackled my boy. A teacher was retiring after multiple decades of service to kid-kind. This guy was known as an eccentric of the highest order, whose classroom was a jumble of sculptures, masks, musical instruments and stacks and stacks of books and papers. He ran a loose ship, but a very unique and profound one. I had just met him for the first time, though, at the campout a couple of weeks ago. I was alone, playing guitar to the starlight and he came upon me and was delighted that I played. He said that he played as well, and that I should meet him the next night, in the dining hall, and we should play together. I tried to get out of it, since I can't really play guitar, but he insisted.
So, the next night, I brought some wine and a couple of other sleepless parents and me and the guy jammed while people read. He taught me some great moves and some great fingerings and we just jammed like we knew what we were doing. It was stupendous. Anyway, he's retiring and, at the ceremony, when he got his parting flowers, the principal asked him to speak. I figured that this guy, being a veteran of many years, would probably have a bunch of wise, lengthy ruminations to bestow upon us, so I settled in.
But, all he said was this: "Let me just quote Sly and the Family Stone. 'Thank you for letting me be myself.'" And, that was it. Rousing applause. I turned to the lady next to me and I said "Now, how many times in your life will you get to say that? Especially at your job." She gave me an amen and we both felt something.
Amen, indeed. I look forward to being able to sincerely use that Sly Stone quote one day to sum up a long period of time. As I sat on the floor of the school hallway, laughing with my son, I was thinking that maybe one day, I'll be saying that quote to him and, hopefully, he'll be saying that to me as well.
Congratulations, my boy.
However, I was swellingly happy for my graduating oldest, so much so that after the ceremony, I caught him in the crowded hall and tried to give him a big old boa constrictor hug. Well, with me being a parent, and him being a boy within eyeshot of his buddies, he wasn't having no hugging stuff, so he tried his best to wrestle away from me. I wasn't letting him go, though, and a giggling tussle ensued whereupon, after a few seconds of this, our feet got tangled up and we both went down to the floor.
Heads turned quickly. Some of those heads hadn't seen the tussle so they must've thought that I'd just simply blitzed my son from his blindside and sacked him in the hallway. So, some faces sprouted worried frowns. My wife gasped and gave me that "Oh my God, I can't believe you just did that!" look, but my boy was laughing hysterically and whatever embarrassment that was creeping up my neck got instantly wiped away, and I laughed too, and the whole scene all turned into "A Moment." Father and son on the floor, laughing, shattering the solemnity of this stiff, weepy occasion and signifying that, really, this is a celebration. And, it seemed also a strangely appropriate way for a father to congratulate his big boy. That was great. Even my wife broke into a smile.
There was another defining moment that occurred during the ceremony, before I tackled my boy. A teacher was retiring after multiple decades of service to kid-kind. This guy was known as an eccentric of the highest order, whose classroom was a jumble of sculptures, masks, musical instruments and stacks and stacks of books and papers. He ran a loose ship, but a very unique and profound one. I had just met him for the first time, though, at the campout a couple of weeks ago. I was alone, playing guitar to the starlight and he came upon me and was delighted that I played. He said that he played as well, and that I should meet him the next night, in the dining hall, and we should play together. I tried to get out of it, since I can't really play guitar, but he insisted.
So, the next night, I brought some wine and a couple of other sleepless parents and me and the guy jammed while people read. He taught me some great moves and some great fingerings and we just jammed like we knew what we were doing. It was stupendous. Anyway, he's retiring and, at the ceremony, when he got his parting flowers, the principal asked him to speak. I figured that this guy, being a veteran of many years, would probably have a bunch of wise, lengthy ruminations to bestow upon us, so I settled in.
But, all he said was this: "Let me just quote Sly and the Family Stone. 'Thank you for letting me be myself.'" And, that was it. Rousing applause. I turned to the lady next to me and I said "Now, how many times in your life will you get to say that? Especially at your job." She gave me an amen and we both felt something.
Amen, indeed. I look forward to being able to sincerely use that Sly Stone quote one day to sum up a long period of time. As I sat on the floor of the school hallway, laughing with my son, I was thinking that maybe one day, I'll be saying that quote to him and, hopefully, he'll be saying that to me as well.
Congratulations, my boy.
Elliot, 12:44 PM
3 Back at me:
I love that quirky teacher. Truly love him. Anyone who can quote Sly/Family is #1 with me! We need more like that.
I had a teacher like that... he was wonderful. He was asked to speak at graduation about once every 3 years. He was just absolutely stupendous. I heard he had a heart attack and died about two years ago.
Mr. Mather, I raise my glass to you!
Mr. Mather, I raise my glass to you!
lovely! any time you can work Sly into a situation is tops with me...
how nice too that the hug ended so happily... :)))
how nice too that the hug ended so happily... :)))
