LEGACY

There was something special in the balmy and nippy air about this pre-dawn autumn morning. It is the first time since that September Friday that I feel “normal.” It began last night when, for the first time in six weeks, I had a glass of wine with Susan during our “special time.” It continued this morning. I arose from my first deep, long, uninterrupted sleep, weaned off my heavy meds, feeling no pressure or ache in my head. I’ve been telling everyone that the fact I almost cashed in my chips six weeks ago is becoming increasingly surreal. Not having any physical or mental effects of the hemorrhage, with almost no clear memory of that week’s events, it’s becoming harder and harder to believe I came within a hare’s breath of dying six weeks ago yesterday. But, Susan’s uncompromising list of “can’ts,” small continuing doses of Motrin and Tylonol, and being scheduled for a CTA scan and a talk with the neurosurgeon next Thursday all tell me the truth of that harrowing week. That’s important, for knowing and remembering that it did happen has made my love of living so intense I can hear the blades of grass talking to each other. Each day, all my senses are enveloped by a surrounding power of life that seeps deep inside me. It is as intuitive, awe-inspiring, magical, mystical, and as any deep meditation or engrossing prayer. Each day I lose myself in the adoration of and concentration on life’s beauty, goodness, truth, and love. It’s almost like everything I see, feel, hear, and touch kindles a spirit of these fused feelings inside my heart and soul that I carry back outside me. Right now, I feel good about living. That may not change the world, but it will effect what I do from moment to moment; it will change my world. It’s really so simple. The life I most feel like living is the life I will find myself most experiencing.

A co-survivor wrote me that is how it should be. Travails such as having a near death cerebral hemorrahage should get us to go deep and reflect about purpose and meaning of what we do and how we live, about what tracks we leave behind, about legacy. So, as I reflected these past weeks on my purposeful “why” that guides the feeling, thinking, and doing of my “how” and “what,” I am struck by the fact that death so rarely is predictable. Aside from suicide, you can’t enter it in your appointment book. At the same time, most of us banish the idea of “live as if it was your last day” to the attic of impotent cliché because we humans fear that we actually may be doing something for the last time as I almost was. So, most of us probably won’t have a chance to deliver the legacy of our final words. Our only testament probably will be the way we have lived our life, the choices we have made, and our daily words and actions. I’ve always said that my credo, my vision, my “why,” the purpose and meaning of what I do–developed over the past fifteen years or so–is that I want to be that person who is there to help another person help her/himself become the person she or he is capable of becoming. It’s another way of saying that I want to be a spark that helps someone rekindle or kindle her or his flame that had dimmed or gone out within.

So, here I was this morning, with a cup of coffee, sitting by the fish pond, listening to the water fall before the sun rose thinking about how yesterday I was suddenly and unexpectedly hit right smack in my face by all this.

It was one of those in the strangest place at the strangest time things about which you don’t ask. Susan and I were in the grocery store shopping for dinner. Not one of my favorite experiences, but hunting for stuff to stir fry was something to get me out of the house where I’m being to get stir crazy. As I slowly walked at a “ho-hum” pace, drowsily pushing the cart, not paying any particular attention, I turned an aisle corner and literally bumped into one of my past students. I have to admit that while I instantly recognized her face, I no longer remembered her name.

“Hey, Dr. Schmier. Remember me?” she happily asked.

“Your face, but not your name. Help me,” I honestly replied.

“Lacy,”

She was in a first year class with me a couple of years ago. We chit-chatted. I naturally told her about my cerebral hemorrahage and being off campus on medical leave. She told me that she no longer was a business major, which her parents continue to insist she be. She is now a nursing major, which she always wanted to be. Then, from out of left field, she interrupted herself and said with an excited tingle in her voice and a blinding, teary gleam in her eyes (don’t hold me to every word), “Oh, while I have you and am thinking about it, it’s your ‘fault’ I’m going to be a nurse. I want you to know that now I know what you meant when you told me ‘You are your own solution.’ Just like you told me to do, I have had those words taped on my bathroom mirror for over a year now so that every morning and night without fail I read them and consciously think about how I need to live that day and if I lived up to what I needed to do. I think of you each day because those words are a reminder of what you helped me learn what to do each day to try to live my life to its fullest. I take that back. I know, there is no try, only do. Yoda. Right? It took me a while to understand what you meant, and then to get the strength and courage start doing it. Actually, I finally faced up to fact that I was afraid to understand because it was easier to blame others than accept my responsibility. But, now I know that the only person who was stopping me now from being the skilled and compassionate nurse I wanted to be and being just who I can be as a person was me….It wasn’t anyone else, not my parents saying I had to become a CPA in my father’s business or my ex- knocking me around and always demanding sex as a sign I loved him or my supposed friends who wanted me to only drink or smoke or party. No one but me! And, I figured out that being a nurse and a person is one and the same. They’re just part of one life and how you live one is how you really live the other….Once I decided to believe in myself, I stopped listening to others and began to listen to me, and I stopped letting them do things to me and I stopped not believing; I started liking myself and started being confident in my own abilities. No more going along to get along and not be alone. It was so releasing, so strengthening, so exciting once it hit me. I am now my own person and every day I dictate my own attitude towards things and people to myself, and decide how I am going to feel. I now decide who I’m going to hang with, the kind of life I’m going to live, what my priorities are, and all that stuff…. I love me and I love nursing. I tell everyone I know who comes to me with troubles exactly what you once told me and what I learned to tell myself every day, ‘Stop being a slave to someone else. Stop letting others make you in someone they want you to be who you don’t want to be. You’ll never be happy. Be yourself. Be real. Look inside. No one can do anything to you unless you allow them to do it. You’re doing it to yourself. You are your own problem. You are your own solution….’ God, I sound like a list of all those “Words for the Day” that you wrote on the board at the beginning of each class…..I’m glad I bumped into you. It was meant to be. I just want to thank you for helping me to help myself, to be so happy. So, thanks for everything, for being a candle that helped me see my way out of my darkness.”

I just stood there stunned. In the strangest place at the strangest time. As I stared into her eyes I didn’t know what to say. Then a quiet peace came over me. It was like one open heart dancing with another. There was nothing to be said. I smiled and quietly offered a simple but profoundly thankful, “Thank you very much. I really appreciate what you just said. It especially means a lot right now. You’re the most powerful medicine I’ve had in the last six weeks.”

She smiled and nodded. “Get better,” she whispered in my ear as we hugged. As she strolled off, I grabbed a pen I luckily had in my pocket, plopped down on the floor, and furiously scribbled her words on the back of Susan’s grocery list before I forgot them.

In the strangest place at the strangest time. Don’t knock the little things. One day you may be shown by your Lacy how big they really were. Though I have to admit that at that moment I didn’t remember the situation about which Lacy talked.  I went to my archive of Random Thoughts in the hope I had shared my experience with Lacy.  Luckily I had, and there it was, in 2003, in a Random Thought I had called “Cogito Ergo Sum.”  The flood forgotten memories flooded back as I read what I had written.  And, now, because of a serendipitous meeting, I do know what my legacy is. It’s Lacy.

Louis

A QUICKIE ON ACADEMIC EQUALITY

Over the past six weeks, I have received “thinking of you,” “you’re in my prayers,” “miss you,” “I’m here if you need me,” “anything I can do for you” cards, phone calls, e-mails and “get well” gifts from students.  Some have come over to the house to visit; some have helped Susan with such things as shopping.  All that reminded me of something.  If any of us academics act as an intellectual superpower, look upon any student as “third world,” and perceive that student to be less than her/himself, then she or he is stealing that student’s two entitlements: her or his birthright of equality and her or his unique potential. We don’t like it when it is done to us by colleagues or administrators; why should we accept doing it to others. I think it has to do with something called the “golden rule.”

Make it a good day.

YET ANOTHER QUICKIE ON “I CARE ABOUT STUDENTS”

Happy anniversary to me. Yesterday was exactly a month of renewed living. I’m still recovering, and will be for a month or two. Still no power walking, no working out, no heavy lifting, nothing strenuous anything, no driving, no nothing for at least the next three to four weeks. I am being disgusting good. I have to be for Susan’s sake. She literally went through selfless hell having almost lost me and now taking care of me, and I’m not going to selfishly put her through another hell by complaining and violating doctor’s orders. But, I can exercise my brain and my fingers. So, I am still on a caring kick. Why shouldn’t I be? I had been and still am the recipient of a lot caring while I was in the hospital and now at home from the nurses, doctors, staff, my Susan, my sons, family members, close friends, colleagues, and students. Supporting, encouraging, loving, caring telephone calls, e-mails, cookies, flowers, plants, cards have been pouring in over the past month. At one point the house looked like a combined bakery and florist. Students and friends have been coming over to the house with food, finishing Susan’s “honey do” list, putting up lights, hanging window blinds, mowing the lawn, doing some shopping, taking out the trash, and taking care of the fish pond. Colleagues unhesitatingly volunteered to take on an extra load to cover my classes. Let me tell you something. All those caring acts, all those caring “thinking of you” and “we’re here for you” and “get well” and “miss you” and “you’re in our prayers” make a difference, a great deal of difference. As I write this, I will say without any embarrassment, tears of gratitude are swelling up in eyes.

It’s no different in academics. All that caring takes me back to something a friend, Bob Tallitsch wrote me. I went back to his message. He said of a caring professor, “….He took the time to take me under his wing and to nurture me, kick me in the pants (literally and figuratively) when I needed it, and taught me what it meant to care and be cared about. As a result of his caring, love, nurturing I learned how to learn, I learned how to excel, and I learned what my true calling and vocation was …” I had such a professor. Birdsal Viault at Adelphi College was his name. So, like Bob, whether I write about it or not, I’m never off my “caring kick.” I always get a kick out of it; it gives me a kick to go on; and. it gives me a kick when I hesitate.

Why so much about caring? Because, it’s that important. You see, there is no dichotomy between academic curriculum and caring as many academics would have us believe. It not an either/or situation! It’s not a sacrifice one to get the other. To the contrary, caring doesn’t get in the way; caring paves the way. In fact, it is the way. What or who you care about determines precisely where you life will go. Caring is one of the most powerful teaching tools at our fingertips if for no other reason than an emotion is a powerful source of energy. Don’t underestimate it. The caring heart promotes a healthy generosity in you, the giver. It says who you are; it determines the sounds you make; it guides your movements; it focuses what you see and to what you listen; it determines the extent of your willingness; it helps formulate your vision; it creates the climate in the classroom and on campus. And, it’s contagious. For the student, the receiver, that little voice saying “You’re not alone” or “I care about you” or “You are worth being cared about” is assuring; it’s energizing; it’s comforting; it’s inspiring; it’s respectful. It stirs her or his inner forces. It helps students value themselves and feel competent. It helps students find their own voice. It imbues each of them with a genuine interest in their improvement. It inspires each of them to believe in themselves. It gives them a handle to facilitate their own inspiration and motivation.

Over the years, I have noticed that as you care about each student, each student has a better chance of caring about her- or himself; it can drive out a student’s “can’ts;” it encourages and supports a student’s “cans.” The power of caring comes from wanting to teach the whole person; it comes from loving each student; it comes from wanting to be a Johnny Appleseed of the heart; it comes from wanting to make a difference; and, above all, it comes from having the courage to use its power. A student’s sense of belonging, security, and self-confidence in a classroom provides the foundation for learning, motivation, self-discipline, responsibility, a giving-everything-you’ve-gotness, and the capacity to deal more effectively with mistakes. Without that foundation, the educational process is weakened. And, it is we who have to assume the major responsibility for that rather than simply blame the student for everything.

The questions, then, are: Do you wish to work miracles? What concrete help are you willing to offer that each student needs to realize her or his dreams? What is your purpose? That last question is particularly important, for purpose is not so much a matter of what you do; it is more about the way you feel while doing whatever it is you are doing; it is essential to who you are. Never forget that the quality of what we do is determined not so much by what we do, but how we choose to think about our situation and of others. If we really are interested in having students learn academic skills and content, we will be most effective in an upbeat environment that gives more than lip service, if we even give that much, to nourishing a student’s emotional life. This is not something for geeks or something derisively called “touchy-feely.” After all, it is not merely what we think of them that is important; it is also how they perceive themselves and what they feel deep within about themselves. Strengthening a student’s self-worth and confidence is not some burdensome extra-curriculum program. Attending to the emotional life of students need not take any time away from academic tasks and, if anything, will enhance teaching. I found that when I take time to break down barriers, build bridges, forge classroom community, when I learn who the students really are beyond merely memorizing their names, when I greet them at the door, when I don’t allow those warm, first day ice breakers quickly to freeze over and use them to build community throughout the term, when I banter with them, when I empathetically respond to their journal entries, when I smile, when I make myself more available when they were having difficulty, I actually have more time for teaching. I know when I was a student I worked harder for those few teachers who I felt noticed me and cared about me. Now I find ways to show students I care about them. I don’t tell them anything; I just quietly and deliberately, but demonstratively live it. I talked to each of them through my heart. With every beat I send them love and encouragement. And, let me tell you a secret. It makes all movements full of meaning and joy. It brings a fullness and richness to what you do. Do that and you’ll never tire of doing it again and again and again.

Make it a good day.

Louis

TODAY! NOW!!

The rabbis tell us to live each day as if it was our last. It’s an overused and trivialized self-help abstraction, isn’t it. It is now a reality for me as it never has been before.  You see, on the early morning of Friday, September 14th, I literally stared the Angel of Death in the eye, and it blinked. When I had my prostate cancer, scared as I was of the word “cancer,” I never truly felt my life was on the line. After all, we had caught the cancer in its earliest of stages, it was relatively low on the Gleason aggressiveness scale, and Susan and I were told we needn’t take any action for three or four years if we so wished. But, on this September day, out of the blue, my ears suddenly clogged up until I was almost deaf, I got such severe vertigo that I was literally bouncing off the walls, and I literally broke out into gushing cold sweats. I thought this first day of Rosh Hashonah, the Jewish New Year was going to be my last. I was convinced that I was stroking out and would literally be dead within minutes. I was almost right. I was experiencing without warning, without any rhyme or reason, what was later (I had beaten the 50-50 odds that there wouldn’t be a “later” before I got to the local hospital) diagnosed as a sub-arachnoid hemorrhage in my brain.  Because of the quick action of my personal doctor, because my Susan took no prisoners, because of a host of caring medical personnel, because my hemorrhage was a venal bleed instead of an burst arterial aneurism, because of whatever, after over a week in the University of Florida’s Shands hospital’s neurological intensive ICU, I’m sitting here this “headachy” morning on medical leave from VSU for the remainder of the semester. There isn’t much I can do other than take ever longer strolls with Susan. The doctors tell me that it will be at least another four to six weeks before the blood in my brain and spine will be absorbed, the consequent headaches and spinal pains that resemble the symptoms of meningitis will abate, I can put my meds on the shelf, and I can be my normal self. Its little price to pay, for I am one of those rare, very rare, exceedingly rare,  a “walking miracle” according to my neurosurgeon, 5 per centers who survive such a literally life threatening event totally unscathed.

50-50, 95 per cent, 5 per cent. I have been living with those numbers for the past four weeks and will for the rest of my life. Almost three years ago, when I learned I had cancer, I found that death is the best agent for living. Death reminds you that your time is limited. But, I also learned that I have the power to give both life and death profound meaning and significance if I have the courage to draw life-affirming and heart-healing energy from the rubble of personal calamity. That was nothing compared to now. As I told a dear friend of mine a couple of days ago, fear of any kind is a toxic emotion that creates monsters in our mind, that consumes self-confidence, that weakens our will, that atrophys our muscles, that intimidates us from doing our best or sometimes even trying at all. And, I told my Susan only yesterday that if we surrender to a fear that this might happen again, if we let it immobilize or torment us, we sentence ourselves to an emotional prison. We agreed that we are not going to pay any toll to fear.

So, this is what I have been saying to myself and have said to others each day and will say far more intently than I ever have:  The Romans were dead–if I can use that word–on. ‘Carpe Diem!!’  Seize the day, professionally and personally!!  I’ll be damned if I am going to yawn my way through life, waste it by living the way others want me to live, be deafened by the noise of what other people say, and be a mere cog in a machine. I’m listening to my own inner voice and am following my heart; they somehow know who I truly want to be and who I truly want to become. Everything else is secondary and even irrelevant.

It is a privilege to be living this day. It is a blessing to be living this day. We each are obligated to make each day the day we come fully to life, and make it holy. We each are life itself.  And, it’s the greatest of sins to not open the present of having a present to live.  Live life to the fullest today!  Without any mysterious voices or mystical vapors or unexplained visions, this moment is pure magic. How I get up each morning determines the rest of my life. Every day is an opportunity to grow. That growth does not make me into a different person, but enables me to more fully express my own uniqueness. We each are here; we each are now; we each are aware; we each can think; we each can feel; we each can love; we each can empathize; we each can experience; we each can do; we each can make a difference.  We each must hold on tightly to the day’s best possibilities in spite of its disappointments. We each must transform the ordinary everyday of today into something extraordinary; drop the shallow pretenses; stop the petty worries; stop judging; stop doubting; start dreaming and living those dreams; lift the blinding fog of negativity; live today on purpose with a purpose; fill this day with fulfillment; intentionally live today with positive intentions; deliberately mean to make today filled with meaningfulness; discover, explore, and stay connected to your “why;’ be the difference who makes a real difference; give a little kindness, consideration, courtesy, especially when someone is not to you; make the world around you according to your most deeply held values; breathe in today’s  sweet air; have fun; smile and laugh; be the embodiment of its joys and beauties; make today  full of riches.  Forget all those putting off  ‘someday’ and ‘I will;’ kick all those debilitating “can’ts” in the “can;” slay the green-eyed monsters of jealousy, envy, resentment, and arrogance; be authentic and break the enslaving chains of being someone others want you to be; stop sabotaging yourself with fear and resentment; learn to love so you can know how to live; stop trying and start doing; feel the stimulating, dynamic, celebrating energy of life; make a positive difference today.  Live life now to the fullest today as if there is no tomorrow!

For me, this “today” and “now” are not an intellectual exercise akin to the Medieval scholastics arguing about how many angels dance on the head of a pin; it is not sermonizing.  For me, it is real living. For me, a lovely and special day is any day I wake up.  That’s the day I decide to be happy. That’s the day I fall in love at first light. That’s the day I decide to be aware. That’s the day I am grateful. That’s the day I celebrate Thanksgiving. Today is something special. Today is the time worth spending time on. It’s the day I fill with love, joy, hope, and beauty. It’s the day I live intensely as if it is my lastas it almost was.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–