South Florida Friend, Gone Too Soon

I had the kind of Tuesday afternoon where I did not have a scrap of extra time, between teaching my two classes, getting handouts ready for Wednesday classes, and commuting back to my house in the mountains.  I'm glad that I didn't have time to do internet wandering, so that the bad news could come later in the day, when I could sit and digest it.

I got home to discover that a good friend in South Florida, Stacy Wolfe, had died unexpectedly on Thursday.  She was only 58, and I don't have details about the cause of death.  Her spouse posted on Facebook that she "passed away unexpectedly" which could mean so many things.  I realize that the cause of death really doesn't matter--that's just me, wanting to tell myself that it was a freak occurrence, when the reality is that death is coming for us all and often much too soon.

I met Stacy when I joined the faculty of The Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale back in 2002.  All of the non-technical faculty shared an office space of cubicles, which was not as grim as it sounds.  She taught a variety of science classes, and I was impressed with how she made the subject come alive for students.  She always organized at least one snorkeling trip per quarter for students, and I was in awe of her ability to coordinate these field trips.

We were also neighborhood friends, eventually moving to the same square mile in the historic district of Hollywood, FL.  It would not have occurred to me that we could afford the house we bought if it hadn't been for other people with similar incomes in our friend group who were doing it.  

We often went for a morning walk, although it could be hard to coordinate walking with our two schedules.  During the pandemic, when our lives changed radically, she and I went for a pre-dawn walk several times a week.  We shared our knowledge about what was happening and what was likely to happen.

We socialized in a variety of settings with a variety of people:  neighbors, scientists, and colleagues from work (and former colleagues, as we started to find other jobs as the robber barons who bought the school started to strip the school and lay off everyone in orchestrated waves).  She was a great dive buddy, always calm and can-do and unfailingly kind.

Those qualities also made her a great friend, one who will be missed by many people, including me.

 

Teaching from the Buddhist Monks Who Are Walking for Peace

 Like many, I've been moved by the Buddhist monks who are walking from Texas to D.C. for peace.  I even talked about them in a sermon in early January, as something giving me hope.

Today they'll be at the National Cathedral, and I'm not sure of their time in D.C. beyond that.  It's hard for me to imagine any officials from the federal government meeting with them, the way that state governing people along the way have, but I'm willing to be happily surprised.

In this post on Diana Butler Bass's Substack, she gives the monks' answer to why they are walking.  I want to make sure I have this, should I want to find the words later, so let me post them here:

"Some people may doubt that our walk can bring peace to the world — and we understand that doubt completely. But everything that has ever mattered began with something impossibly small. A single seed. A first mindful breath. A quiet decision to take one step, then another.

Our walking itself cannot create peace. But when someone encounters us — whether by the roadside, online, or through a friend — when our message touches something deep within them, when it awakens the peace that has always lived quietly in their own heart — something sacred begins to unfold.

That person carries something forward they didn’t have before, or perhaps something they had forgotten was there. They become more mindful in their daily life — more present with each breath, more aware of each moment. They speak a little more gently to their child. They listen more patiently to their partner. They extend kindness to a stranger who needed it desperately.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

And that stranger, touched by unexpected compassion, carries it forward to someone else. And it continues — ripple by ripple, heart by heart, moment by moment — spreading outward in ways none of us will ever fully witness, creating more peace in the world than we could possibly measure.

This is our contribution — not to force peace upon the world, but to help nurture it, one awakened heart at a time. Not the Walk for Peace alone can do this, but all of us together — everyone who has been walking with us in spirit, everyone who feels something stir within them when they encounter this journey, everyone who decides that cultivating peace within themselves matters.

One step becomes two. Two become a thousand. A thousand become countless. And slowly, gently, persistently — not through grand gestures but through ten thousand small acts of love — we can help make the world more peaceful.

This is our hope. This is our offering. This is why we walk.

May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace."

First In-Person Monday of Spring Term

This morning, instead of my usual morning ritual of frittering away gobs of time by internet wandering, I got right to work on my first paper for my Lutheran Foundations class that's due on Thursday morning before the class meets.  It's not a complex paper, only 750 words, but I need to submit it on Wednesday, since I don't have much time on Thursday mornings.

And now, I have a rough draft--hurrah!

I feel similarly about this paper as I felt about the short Luther paper that I wrote for my Church History class in February of 2023.  I remember feeling pleased with the paper on Luther and sacraments, but I wasn't sure it was what my professor had in mind.  Happily, in 2023, the paper was what my professor wanted.  Hopefully that will be the case here too.

Soon I will head down the mountain to Spartanburg Methodist College.  It's the first Monday that I'll be on campus since November.  For spring term, classes started on Tuesday and then we had the following Monday off for the MLK holiday.  The past two Mondays have been snow days.  And now, here we are. 

Of course, I've been meeting those classes in person on Wednesdays and Fridays, so it hasn't been like I haven't seen those students.  But it still seems worth noting.  A colleague at SMC tells me that in all his years at the school, over 35 years, they've never had as many snow days as they've had this year.  I believe it.

I predict that this kind of weather is going to be the norm as we continue moving through the 21st century--not the snow itself, but the fact that past performance will NOT be a predictor of future performance.

Let me get myself in gear.  This Monday won't teach itself.

Sermons, for Youth and for Adults

This morning, in addition to finishing the revisions to my sermon (posted here on my theology blog) on Matthew 5:  13-20, I made a big bowl of popcorn.  I left some of it unsalted and put it in sandwich bags.  I salted the rest and made more bags of popcorn.  

I'm not crazy about all the sandwich bags, but it's the easiest way for me to do my youth sermon on salt without getting popcorn all over the place, the way we would if I just passed around two big bowls.  Plus it minimizes germ spreading--no hands in the same bowl of popcorn.

As I divided the popcorn, I thought about seminary, about my Foundations of Preaching class.  In that class, we had a lot to do in a very short time, so I don't fault the professor for not talking about children's sermons much.  I'm glad that I'm old enough to have seen plenty of examples of both good and bad children's sermons through the years.

We haven't been together in the physical space as a congregation since January 18--what a winter it has been, and we may get wintry weather next week-end too.  I'm glad that today's sermons (both the youth and the adult variety) feel solid.

Winter Weather and Writing Prompts

I am happy to report that my car now has a new windshield wiper motor.  It cost a pretty penny, almost $1,000 to get the part and have it installed, but it's far cheaper than buying a replacement car.  So far, in the past two months, I've spent a lot on this car, but it's still far less than buying a replacement car.

Yesterday I headed down the mountain in the newer car, the Nissan Rogue, the car we bought when the December flood of 2019 destroyed the other Prius that we once had.  When I got up in the morning, there was a dusting of snow and nothing falling through the air.  By the time I left, the driveway and neighborhood road were covered, and there was a lot of snow blowing through the air.  There were moments when I wondered if I had made a mistake, but the interstate seemed clear of snow and ice, and I decided that I was safer continuing on to school and heading home later in the day.

Much to my surprise, later in the morning it was also snowing in Spartanburg, snow that wasn't in the forecast.  It was the best kind of snow, big flakes, but nothing sticking.

Before yesterday, I had planned a snow/winter weather theme for my Advanced Creative Writing class, and having snow drifting by the window was the perfect touch.  On Tuesday, I read Dave Bonta's Poetry Blog Digest, on his Via Negativa site, as I do most Tuesdays.  He linked to this post by Kristy Bowen, which concluded with ten wonderful poetry prompts for winter.  They're the best kind of prompts, the kind that work not only for poetry but for all kinds of creative thought.

I put each prompt on a slip of paper and had them put the slips of paper face down on their desks.  Every five minutes, they turned over another slip and wrote for five minutes.  At the end of five minutes, they could keep going, or they could turn over a new slip.  

They were all writing on laptops, which was fine with me, although I did realize that I had no way of knowing if they were really working on prompts.  But from observing them, they did seem engaged, and they did turn over slips.  At the end of the process, I had them select one line from their writing and put it on a blank slip--and then I read all the slips as one poem, an interesting experiment.

I did a variation of the writing too, although since I was the timekeeper, I couldn't lose myself in my writing the way I might have.  I did come up with some interesting lines that I hope to continue to work into a unified poem. 

By the time I got on the road to drive home, the sun was shining, and while it wasn't warm, I wasn't afraid that the roads would freeze--it's the best kind of winter weather, the kind that doesn't disrupt but does inspire.

Broken Wiper Motor, Broken Newspaper

Yesterday was a very strange day.  I headed down the mountain to Spartanburg Methodist College, reflecting on the fact that we have yet to have a full week of class meetings this semester.  The gas station a mile from campus had gas for $2.39 a gallon, far cheaper than gas in North Carolina; I amuse myself by keeping track of these differences as I drive between North Carolina and South Carolina and Tennessee each week.

As I drove away from the gas station and waited at the traffic light, I decided to try using the windshield wipers.  They swiped up and stayed there.  Hmm.  I had hopes that it might be an easy fix, turning the car off and on, so I tried it once I got parked at campus.  Nope.  My spouse had hopes that it was a matter of waiting for possibly frozen stuff to thaw, so I a few hours later, I trooped back to the car and tried the wipers again.  Nope.

I decided to hope that the rain in the forecast wouldn't be falling when I drove home, and happily, I caught a break there.  I drove back to Arden, straight to my mechanic, with a windshield that was grimy (lots of snow melt droplets from the road) but navigable.

It was no surprise to learn that I do need a new motor for the windshield wipers.  What was a surprise is that it's hard to find.  My mechanic said, "That's one of the problems with these older cars."  I would have thought a windshield wiper motor was fairly standard, and my car is only 12 years old, a 2014 Prius C.

Earlier in the day, I said that I hoped the motor wouldn't cost thousands of dollars, as recent car repairs have cost me.  But I didn't anticipate that I wouldn't be able to find a motor at all.  And it's possible that the Toyota dealership will be able to supply what the car needs, that the mechanic was just explaining why it took hours for him to call me with a progress report, and perhaps preparing me for the cost to come.

It was also a day where news broke about the layoffs at The Washington Post.  I've been a subscriber for a long time, and before that, The Washington Post was one of the first newspapers, and really, the only newspaper that shaped me, as a writer, as a citizen, as a reader/thinker.  This batch of layoffs is not the first.  The paper is a shadow of its former glory.  But I'm no longer sure it's worth what I pay for it, and I think I'm still getting an educator discount rate.  

When my credit card was compromised, I had to update various automated bills, and The Washington Post was one of them.  I was surprised by how much I'm paying a month, and now I'll be getting even less.  No Books section?  Really?

I'll wait and see; some of the writers I like are still there.  But still, it's like the difference between seeing through a grimy windshield and a clean one.  For my whole lifetime, The Washington Post helped me see more clearly; I'm not convinced that will still be the case going forward.

Another Week, Another Tuesday Snow Day

I have the gift of another snow day.  We didn't find out that we would have today as a snow day until 4:30.  As I said before, as an administrator, I understand.  It was good to see what the rate of melting would be.  As the afternoon went on, and more Spartanburg public schools announced they would be closed today, I thought we would be having remote learning today.

My first thought:  I am determined not to squander this snow day.  But let me be fair to myself.  IYe haven't squandered the past snow days.  I just haven't gotten as much done as I hoped--and honestly, that's my mental state most days.

I feel lucky as an English faculty member.  It's easy for me to create remote assignments.  I have lots of flexibility, in terms of what needs to happen in a given semester.  I know that colleagues in other departments must be frustrated by having to adjust again and again.

I do want to be intentional today in getting my gradebooks created for my in-person classes.  I use Brightspace, as do most of us at Spartanburg Methodist College.  I use the LMS for other things too, mainly as a place to post announcements and handouts.

I hope to go for at least one walk today, or maybe several short ones.  

Yesterday I made it up to Dedication Altar and down to the lake.  I was struck by all the shades of neutral colors and swirls on the lake's surface, like it was some map I couldn't read.

Of course, my mind went to all the scenes in all the books and movies about people falling through the ice.  I had heard the various public safety advisories that no lake in North Carolina is safe enough to walk on, regardless of how frozen it looks.  This lake at Lutheridge did not look safe at all; I could hear and see water gurgling underneath.

We may get more snow tomorrow, but it won't be like this past week-end's snow.  The weather forecast could change.  Let me stay alert.