Lesson Learned from Saying Goodbye

There are many memories that I have from my childhood that I will always cherish. In fact it has been in these last two years (2009 & 2010) that has made me think back to these times with fondness. I have lost many of the people that I looked up to and depended on for guidance in these two years. It has taken me these many months to get to the point where I’ve been able to stand and try to make it through life without them. As soon as I thought I was ready it seemed I would lose another. It’s kind of crazy, and I’m sure disheartening for others, that I try to teach the youth of Oak Grove to have their own voice when all I’ve done in the past two years is dig inward and not show my real emotions and what has been going on inside my head. I’ve been hurt by what people have said and done to me and kept it to myself. I’ve kept myself from opportunities because I felt like I would be selfish for taking part in them because it would take away from the people that count on me to be there for them.
As much as I love my grandparents, including one very special one that I still have here on earth, the biggest transition for me has been the loss of my father. Now don’t get me wrong, I have a lot to say about all my grandparents and I’ll get to them, but my Dad was a man of many MANY words. But he never said anything that didn’t have a point to it. He never talked to just talk. You might not get it at the time he said it, but as the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months went by rest assured you would eventually get the picture. For those of you that have known me for my whole life you know that there were several years in there (basically all of high school) that my dad and I just didn’t get along. I was a rebellious little **** that always went rounds with him because I could. Later in life, when things were much better between us (thank you college years) Dad would joke that my success as a debate coach was because he gave me so much practice in high school. Now that I think about it, he’s probably right. It was definitely in that time period that I discovered how important it was to not only stand up for yourself with speech, but to be able to back up what you say as well.
My dad wasn’t what the world would call an educated man. That was one of the things that I never understood about him when I was younger. Being an “intellectual ass” type of student (which I know dad looks down and laughs every time one of my students pulls that attitude with me now) I would turn every dinner table topic into a debate trying to prove to him that I knew more about the subject than he did. At the time, I was just being an ass, but now as I can look back on what happened, I think it was more than that. I never thought we had much in common because in high school Dad was popular and a jock. I was an intellectual and a band geek. Dad was Student Body President, and I lost that election by six votes (yes I do remember the number after all these years). To me, my father was a conundrum. One of my favorite stories about my dad is that after his high school graduation he went to register for classes at USM, and got tired of standing in line . . . so he left. He, in a split second made a life changing decision without really even thinking about it. He went on to make a very successful career for himself, and I doubt he ever looked back at that moment thinking he made the wrong decision.
Because he didn’t.
I am so thankful that in the last few years of his life that he and I were able to reconnect and have the close relationship that I took away from him when I was younger. One of the things that I’ve always had with my dad though, is that there was this connection that I could always look in his eyes and see the truth. The number of times that he said things to me without having to say a word are numerous. It’s also the reason why, on the day that he told me he had leukemia, I knew he was going to die. I didn’t want to believe it, and I wanted to fight like hell to not believe that, but those feelings were always there. It is midnight on 1-1-11 right at this moment, and I can’t think of a better time to let go of what I’ve been holding onto since June 2009.
When my father told me that he had leukemia, he told me to go in the back of the house, cry, wipe my face, and then be strong for my mom and my sister. The one thing they didn’t need was to see me crying. He couldn’t be the rock for them at that moment and I would have to do that for him. So that was exactly what I did. I went to my old room, cried until Kristen found me, and started to shut down the tear ducts. I don’t know how I can do it, but I’ve been able to for years. I can cry on cue but I can turn it off just as fast. The problem is the only way to do it and do it successfully is you have to turn off your emotions as well.
I went to the hospital every day except for the three when I was running fever and they wouldn’t let me in. I watched my sister put a blood drive together and work so hard. I got injured at the blood drive. I became the good will police trying to make people feel better whether that meant coffee and cheeseburger runs (The last week I was there Dad gained a craving for Checker’s Bacon cheeseburgers) or showing my dad how to navigate facebook. I played my role, but I wasn’t there. I was emotionally checked out. My body was already telling me it was going to happen, and I seemed to get that same feeling from Dad as well.
Things would be so much simpler if we knew it was the last time we were going to see our loved ones alive. Yes, it would be more painful, but at least we would know. After wondering day after day for both my grandfathers and my dad, I promise you it would be much easier. I wish I had known for Dad. Because it was the one day that when I looked into his eyes, he lied to me. He was looking so much better and was walking around, joking and laughing. I was very worried about leaving because I had to leave town for work for an entire week. Everyone that knows me knows I coach speech and debate, and on this particular week I was taking 10 of my students to the national tournament. It was a big feat for me because only about 28 make it from the whole state so I was extremely proud to have that many from my school. My dad spent the afternoon asking me questions about the trip and what we were going to do. It calmed my nerves some, but I still asked him if I should stay at home. He, of course, told me to go and that he would be fine. When I looked into his eyes, I believed him. It calmed me down. It made me feel like it was okay to go.
I think everyone remembers what the last thing their loved ones said to them. The last thing he said to me before I left was that he loved me. But I don’t know if many people can go one more back and remember the last piece of advice they give you. I do easily. Dad had probably listened to me brag about my kids (my students) for about an hour when he said the following, “Son, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I know how important your students are to you, but I don’t want you to spend your whole life making sure they have a good one, and forget to have one of your own.”
At the time, the statement angered me. It actually angered me to the point that I pretty much ended the conversation there, reverted to that teenager that I used to be, looked at my watch and told both my mom and my dad that I better get going if I was going to get to Birmingham before dark. I didn’t even give him a hug goodbye. My dad and I didn’t really do that ever, but I really wish I had then. My dad had hit a nerve. Something that I’d been dealing with on my own for about two years, and not shared it with anyone. I mean I love teaching. I honestly think it was what I was put on this earth to do. I’ve had the great fortune of making a difference in so many amazing kids’ lives, and I didn’t want to give that up. This was a special week for these 10 kids. It was a big deal for them, so for Kristen, William, Christian, Blakely, Emily, Kelly, Paromita, Steven, Will, and Daniel, I planned to put my personal life to the side and make sure they had a trip to remember. It worked until Wednesday night. When I called the hospital and my mom told me dad was too tired to talk on the phone and that she was worried, I knew something was wrong, but there was nothing that I could do. It was at that point in the trip that I went from wanting to be their biggest cheerleader to resenting them because I had no way of leaving them there. I hate that I took it out on them the next day. I never formally apologized for it, but I think the moms were trying to explain to them the situation that I refused to talk about. I actually sent them home early because none made it to the later rounds and I internalized it all and felt like it was a slap in my face because of what I had given up.
On Friday, when I got the call to come home, there were only two still in Birmingham with me. I can only imagine how awkward that drive from Birmingham to Hattiesburg was for those two boys. The whole way I was stammering something about how my dad would be fine and there was nothing to worry about. I’m not going to talk about the last time I saw my dad because I still can’t put words to that moment. Nor can I hardly even remember the next two days. What I do remember is the huge testament that my father left for my sister and me. Never before have I seen people wait that long to pay their respects. I still don’t know how I made it five hours without crying. But I do remember all of my kids that came to check on me, especially the ten that I treated so horribly during that week. In fact, those were the main ones who helped me through most of the summer. There is one in particular I will never be able to repay for basically running the team through the next semester while I was on autopilot.
Now we have to fast forward to tonight. 1-1-2011. Why, you may ask? Because I have been on pause since then. I’ve played all the parts I’ve supposed to play. Not as good as I once did, but enough that most people didn’t see the difference. It is only in the last week that I’ve come to the realization that my father never meant for me to be emotionless and keep everything bottled up. In fact, looking back, when he was very passionate about something he said he would often let his emotions take over. I have actually been doing the opposite of what he wanted. I’ve been a shell of the person I once was. The person my dad raised would never have let a student or parent talk to me the way they have the last two years. The child my dad raised would never do anything halfway. The man my father raised would never settle for a partial life. He’d want me to have it all. He’d want me to experience every emotion, good and bad, because that is what life is about. Feelings. Knowing that we are alive.
So here’s to 2011! May it be the year where we learn from our pasts, live and love in the present, and let the future happen one day at a time.

The Rest of the Scotland Trip

I think that I've sort of kept this going way too long. There are a lot of other things that I want to blog about and my New Year's Resolution is to use this blog for what I originally wanted to use it for; to talk about the life lessons that I learn each and every day. But I need to finish this first. I'm already hoping to plan my next overseas excursion so I would like to finish dishing out what I learned from the last trip so here are the thoughts from the entire last week of the trip all rolled up into one.

DAY NINE: THINKING ABOUT HOME

Today, I've done a lot of reminiscing. Not just about this trip, but about life in general. It's just a few more days before we go home, and part of me is ready, but the major part of me never wants to leave. There is something magical about this place that I can't describe, and I don't know if the others have felt it or if it is just personal.

This has easily been the summer of hell for me (remember as I was writing this it was less than two months after my dad died.) I can't begin to describe the agony of hell I've been through. Dad's death is the major contributor, but not the only one. I have shed more tears this summer than I ever remember having shed in my life. But this trip, I can't explain it, but it's just made me calm and content.

Even though we have all these kids here, there has been several moments where I've been able to be alone, and I have taken advantage of them. Even as I'm writing this, I'm sitting outside my dormitory in 55 degree weather waiting for my laundry to finish, and listening to nothing but the wind blow. It's in moments like this that I hear and feel my father's presence. I'm trying to get used to a world without him in it, but it's not happening fast enough. I've felt guilty all summer for trying to forget, but I do feel for some reason that he's tellng me it's okay.

So, am I ready to go home? I guess the answer is yes and no. Yes because I've been inspired on this trip. The ideas are continually flowing and I can't wait to work with my kids and start using all this built up emotion to create some great stuff. I'm ready to be home and see my family and share with them what an amazing trip its been. I'm ready to come home and start life again.

But I'm not ready because as I said, this is a magical place and I'm not sure I'm ready to leave the magic again.

DAY TEN - THE SUPER STUPID SCOTTISH SCAVENGER HUNT

So remember how just yesterday I was pawning away about how magical this place is? Well, while I still believe this to be true, I can safely say that day ten of the trip royally sucked.

Why may you ask? Things were going so well. What changed? Well, friends it's what I like to call the Super Stupid Scottish Scavenger Hunt. Let me explain.

The morning started out like any other. I made sure all the boys were awake, and then went down for breakfast. Now the weather in Scotland is tricky. The temperature is insanely nice, but there is nothing as cold as a Scottish rain shower. It was lightly misting so it wasn't really that bad, yet. I sat down for a leisurely breakfast with Suz, Renee, Terri, Pam, and Melinda (the chaperone six pack) and we fully expected it to be a beautiful and easy day. We didn't perform until 6pm so we actually jad the entire morning free...nothing until lunch. Nothing could make this tenth day of the trip go bad, right? VERY WRONG!

As we get up from breakfast to put our trays away, Suz has a bright idea. She believes it's a good idea to check and make sure that all the kids can put their hands on their passports. But that's no big deal, right? Our kids haven't given us any trouble; especially my boys. They've been awesome. Yeah, again, not so much luck this time.

I go up to our sixth floor rooms where I can hear the boys playing around, so I tell them I need them to show me their passports. One by one they do so...Luke, "Got it." Christian, "I've got mine." Zach G has his, Logan - took him a while to find it in that mess of a room, but he had his. Chris found his easily as did Brian. That left me with Zac. As I walked back toward his room I could hear him throwing around things and I knew that wasn't a good sign. He was frantic. His passport was no where to be found.

What is really sad about all this is Zac is one of the, if not the most responsible kids on the trip. He has been taking care of everyone else, making sure they are where they are supposed to be when they are supposed to be there, and even holding on to other people's stuff so they don't lose it. If we needed maps or any of the stuff AHSTF gave us, he was the first to hand it over. So I did feel extremely sorry for him (though I admittedly did not exactly act like it for the rest of the day, so if Zac ever reads this, sorry about that!) I called Suz and we started the ball rolling.

By this point, it was lunchtime so the six chaperone pow-wowed over whatever crazy Scottish concoction we ate during that meal. The moms seemed to think that they could ransack a room better than me so after we ate I took them, with the boys up to our floor and they went through every room looking for Zac's passport. Unfortunately, they were just as unsuccessful as I was.

So then it was my turn again. Zac and I put on our rain gear (at this point there is a torential down pour unlike anything we've seen since being in Scotland and we headed down to the Royal Mile. In the rain, we went to every store on the mile to see if a passport had been turned in. Again, no such luck.

When we returned to Pollack Halls we were drenched. I had three layers of clothes on plus my rain coat and I was soaked down to the skin. But there was no time to spare because it was only 30 minutes until rehearsal time, so Zac had to get into his tech clothes, and I had to find a dry (and clean) Jungle Book shirt to wear.

The shining light of the day was that final performance of The Jungle Book. It was the best I've seen, and I had my own sentimental moment as I knew that it was the graduates (Christian and Alex being the two in my department as well) final performance before going off to college. More on that at a later time.

Because we missed dinner (it was during our show) everyone was on their own to eat so the boys and I all ate pizza. Of course while we waited on the pizza, we destroyed Zac's room one more time looking for his passport. Still, no such luck. Oh well, there is always tomorrow. Zac has to climb Arthur's Seat again to see if he dropped it somewhere on the hike.

DAY ELEVEN - ONE LAST SCOTTISH ROAD TRIP

No such luck on Arthur's Seat. Still no passport. I kind of feel like my vacation had to end early, and I'm annoyed by that. We still have our tour of the Highlands today, but I've got to write another day's worth of lesson plans because I'm going to miss another day of school, and believe it or not I am really very ready to go back and start teaching. I want to enjoy today's tour, but I'm in a foul mood simply because I have to be the one to stay in Scotland another day.

But the tour must go on! We have Bob again for our tour guide. I personaly think he's the best. As we traveled out of Edinburgh I didn't really pay attention to the tour. I was trying to write the lesson plans. Once we got out of the city and started seeing things I'd never seen before like the William Wallace Memorial. I had to put it up and listen to Bob.

Then we met Hamish. Hamish is a hairy cow with huge horns that will put your eyes out. He doesn't do anything. He's a cow. He sits there and eats grass. But, according to Bob, you haven't officially seen Scotland until you've seen Hamish.

We continued through some of the smallest roads on winding streets I've ever seen. My personal favorite memory was when we met another tour bus on one of these roads, and we were on the drop side of the street. When I looked out of the window to the ground you could see no more road only the drop-off. We were that close to the edge.

Finally, we came to Sterling Castle, the home of the Stuart Kings and Queens. This was highly interesting to me because of my family background. However, they don't call it the Highlands for nothing. I could not breathe well at that altitude for some reason. My lungs hurt. But I was fine when we returned to the University. I skipped the rest of that time because I was asleep the entire ride back.

Then, that night we saw North Carolina's rendition of The Bald Soprano. I'm no the biggest fan of absurdist comedy, but it was funny, and a nice ending to a great day.

Oh....still no passport in sight.

DAY TWELVE - SO LONG, FAREWELL...

Today has been a day of mixed emotions. I think everyone is ready to go home, but at the same time this experience has been so amazing that it is hard to say goodbye.

As far as what we did, it was a very uneventful day. The kids got to sleep in which they loved. Then, we met up and packed all of our boxes with our souveniers. It was sad to see so much of The Jungle Book go into the trash, but ultimately there was excitement in the air about going home.

After lunch, we had closing ceremonies, which were a great send off to our time here in Edinburgh. One of the speakers gave a great speech about being magical that I want to share with you when I write my final thoughts about the trip.

Then, as usual, it was off to the Royal Mile one last time so the kids could buy those last minute gifts. Being the only male chaperone and the one who likes shopping the least I eagerly volunteered to stay at the University with the students who were done shopping and didn't wish to go back. I, for one, had not started packing yet and needed to get to it.

So I packed, finished my extra day's worth of lesson plans and wrote an important letter that I needed to deliver. When they returned, I set to the task of making sure the boys were packed, or at least packing, adn then went to the cafe with Suz, Renee and Pam for probably the most relaxing two hours of the entire trip.

It's sad to know that it is over, but for me, I am ready to get back to work. This has been my first vacation in six years and I really think that after the summer I've had, I really needed it.

Who knows what tomorrow may bring. Zac and I have to get him to the American Consulate as early as we can and try to get him a passport so we can get on that flight home with everyone else. That is all I want right now. Home Sweet Home!

DAY THIRTEEN - NOT MY LUCKY NUMBER TODAY

I am writing this from a dorm room at the University of Edinburgh which can only mean one thing -- we didn't make our flight. Today is dedicated to Murphy's law. We got up this morning at 6am in order to get to the consulate and be first in line. Well, by taxi, it took all of ten minutes to get there. So, we were there by 6:45 am and we were first in line, but our appointment wasn't until 8:30 am and it started to rain. It started to rain hard. The American Consulate in Edinburgh has about a 1.5 foot overhang that we crouched under for almost two hours.

When Jan (our consulate angel) finally arrived at 8:45 am we thought we were home free and would easily make the flight. But we ran into a snag that none of us had even considered. Had we thought about it Zac and I would have made the flight. The culprit turned out to be the passport photos. We had everything but the photos. So Jan sent us to a photo shop she said was "just around the corner" and opened at 9:30 am. "Just around the corner" turned out to be two miles away. then, the store didn't open until 10:00 am. The woman would not print the photos until 10:30 and then we had to walk back to the Consulate. We made it back by 11:00 am. the passport photos cost us 2 1/2 hours.

Then, when we got back to the consulate we weren't allowed inside because the Scottish police were invesitgating an American and we weren't allowed in until they were done. At 11:05 we get in, Zac signs his paperwork and they begin the process. By 11:15 they've given us his passport and called us a taxi. By my math skills that means if we had had the passport photos we would have been on our way to the airport by 9:30 am. Instead it was 11:15 am.

We get this crazy taxi driver who can squeeze through any hole and he has us at the airport by 11:40. At 11:45 we are at the Continental counter and it is closed. Shut down. Now way we are getting on the plane. It was heartbreaking because we tried and worked so hard to get there. We could see the plane. We watched all of our friends take off without us. Dejected, we decided to try and navigate our way back to the University by bus. I had a bus pass, Zac did not. That made things interesting. It was also not easy. TWO HOURS LATER we finally walk back onto campus.

Let me just stop here and tell you how amazing the AHSTF staff are. This is there only day off between sessions. Basically, their only chance to sleep, but when we returned they didn't miss a beat. Zac and I both had rooms within 30 minutes, and I think we were both asleep just a few minutes after that. To say we were exhausted at that point would be an understatement.

I was so tired. I knew it would be seven hours until they landed in Newark and could send me any information so I took advantage. I slept for like five hours. I woke up rested. Zac and I were the only two people in the building so it was really lonely. We sat in the Common Room and searched for anything that was American Television. We ended up watching One Tree Hill for an hour and Chuck after that.

Once we got the flight information from Suz it was time to shower and get ready for bed, and of course, write this journal entry. So we will sleep in a little and then at 9:00 get a taxi to the airport, get our new tickets and set on the task of getting home.

Scotland, I do hope to see you again in about four years, but I am ready to see American soil once again.

DAY FOURTEEN - NOTHING SUCKS MORE THAN NEWARK

This has literally been one of the longest days of my life. At this point I have been awake 19 hours and I've been sitting in a plane on the tarmac outside Newark International Airport for an hour of that time. Plus, we still don't know when we are going to actually take off because things couldn't actually. . . see, I almost walked right into that one. So let's just say it has been a rough 48 hours and I really want to be home already.

Nineteen hours ago I was in Pollack Halls at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. I woke up got dressed and repacked my backpack for the trip that should have happened 24 hours earlier. Zac got up and dressed, we said goodbye to the amazing AHSTF staff and began our voyage.

We got a really nice taxi driver who told us (after we told him where we were from) that his daughter had gone to Cancun on holiday and wanted to know if we knew what kind of a "holiday" people have there. Well, I just didn't have the meanness in me to tell him the truth so I said they usually just lay around on the beach. he gave us a discount on our taxi ride.

then, it was the ticket counter where luckily they remembered our predicament and, after paying Continental another $500 we had our tickets. We made it through security with no hang ups so we thought we were home free. Not so fast! Security at the gate was brutal. Zac and I were pulled to the side and questioned about why we missed our original flight and what we had been doing since. After about ten minutes of that they let us on the plane.

The flight to Newark was really good. It actually seemed to go quickly. I watched the new Fast and the Furious, Star Trek, Wolverine, and a handful of other movies. I listened to Gavin DeGraw and Norah Jones music to keep me calm. At this point we should have landed at Newark. Instead, we circled the airport four times before they let the plane land.

Next, we had to go through Customs, which again, we thought would be easy because we had no luggage to deal with. The line was going smoothly and then we were sent to the line for U.S. entry Line 16. Sixteen is not a good number. All that stood between us and re-entrance onto American soil was one Customs agent and a Mexican family with nineteen members. Now, I know you think I am exaggerating. Trust me, I wish I was. They did an eye scan and fingerprinted each one of them and made them answer a series of questions, including the children. We waited behind them for thirty minues, and when ALL the other line were clear and we were still waiting, they finally let us move to another line. In the country we go with no problem.

Then, we figure out the insane maze that is Newark Airport only to realize that we have to go through yet another security checkpoint. (BTW, we finally took off after sitting on the runway for 1.5 hours. We are flying into lightning. What fun!) I have to go through a special check because I bought a food product back in my bag, but not "no passport boy". They just let Zac back into the country with no questions. So we keep walking thinking we will look for our gate next, but no, there is yet ANOTHER SECURITY CHECKPOINT to get to your connecting flight. Can you say overkill? I mean I'm glad that homeland security is actually doing something, but how about working that Mexican border or the completely unpatrolled Canadian border? I mean really, do I have to take off my shoes three times to prove that there is nothing wrong with them.

We make it through security and head to our gate . . . in another terminal . . . so let's ride a tram across. We find our gate, turn around and see the Holy Grail, or at least the Golden Arches. Two weeks without McDonald's meant Zac and I knew exactly where we were eating lunch. Just the Coke was amazing! Did you know that Coke tastes different in Great Britain. They use a different formula. I like ours a lot better.

Four hours, a hundred text messages, three gate changes, and a charged phone battery later, and we were ready to board the FINAL plane and take off on our final flight home . . . or at least New Orleans - close enough! But alas, you have already read what actually happened.

Now Zac is completely asleep on his tray table and I'm getting freaked out by the blind guy's seeing eye dog that's staring at me. All I know is I want to be home, and according to the pilot that should be in two hours. I probably should tell the kid that I'm not actually mad at him. I haven't been the nicest in the last 48 hours. So if you ever read this no hard feelings. If I had to get stuck in a foreign country with someone I'd pick you over most of the others on the trip.

There is a seat open between Zac and I, but I feel more claustrophobic on this flight than I have any of the others. The ending of a trip is always the worst for me. I wish I could just close my eyes and we would be on the ground in New Orleans.

I have never been so happy to see Hattiesburg in my entire life.