"Memories............................"

This past Thursday was “Picture Day” at school, our Special-Ed unit, in hopes of catching a good pose before panic set in, directed to the gymnasium to be among the first to face the camera. Assembling all six kids in a corner of that location while the teacher handled the paperwork, in spite of there being two kindergarten classes also going through the process and a heavy rain pounding on the roof above us, I managed to keep tranquility until they called us to the photographer nearest the entrance. Noises affect our bunch, though, and only a curtain divided us from gym students enjoying some sort of game on the other side, loud music, rather than a whistle, being utilized as a timer. It all proved too much. One boy is quite big for a Fourth Grader, was obviously upset, sat for us on the stool, but exhibited more panic than a smile, and then lost it just as I was about to lead him away. In frustration more so than anger, he grabbed both of my wrists, digging fingernails deep enough into my flesh to draw blood. My response was to merely cover his ears with my hands, calm his emotions, and withdraw him from the chaos. The incident was just another day in the neighborhood, part of learning to see things from their perspective, learning to love the spirit trapped within the physical circumstances. It’s not always easy. These are yet youngsters with little self-discipline in their life, reaction often coming when they don’t get that which they want along the way. Nonetheless, we become a small “family”, rules established and enforced, a bond between us growing as we go. Beth and I left the hospital the other night, having gone there after dinner to see a friend, my clothes still the same ones worn all day and, as we walked down the hallway, she behind me at one point, she asked what was all over the back of my shirt. Immediately an image of that same fellow popped into my mind, him having a habit lately of approaching me from behind when I’m stooped down tying someone else’s shoelaces or picking up an object dropped on the floor, giving me a hug and laughing as he buries his head between my shoulders. It goes with the job. Getting out of the Navy after ten years was merely “coming home”, the change in life-style never regretted. Retiring from the railroad after three decades was like walking out the door and never looking back, a position occupied to pay my bills. This one, however, is different. It will be hard next June to drive out of that parking lot knowing I’m leaving it all behind me for the last time. This one…has been fun