No Degrees of Separation

I grew up in and lived in small towns in northwest Missouri and southwest Iowa until I moved to Omaha in my late forties.  Like everyone else in the whole country, I watched movies and television programs and wondered about the actors—who they were and what they were like.  I listened to music on the radio and thought that the singers and musicians must be really interesting people.   News programs and newspapers told me about important people—those politicians—public servants, for instance, who made significant decisions about my life and my country.  Celebrities and Very Important People were fascinating, but they weren’t part of my small town existence.  I hadn’t even graduated from high school, however, when I began to realize that it was possible to meet those celebrities.  Sometimes I’ve been surprised by the unexpected opportunities I’ve had to rub elbows with them both as part of a crowd and one on one.

In the spring of my junior year in high school, my English teacher assigned the class to write essays that were to be entered in a contest.  It was the first time that I had ever written anything like this, but I actually won!  The prize was that I spent five days the following June touring Washington, D.C., with 900 other high school juniors from 27 different states.  We were typical tourists, gawking at the statues and monuments and all the buildings we’d read about in our history books and always looking and hoping to see someone famous.  One afternoon my delegation from Missouri was at the White House when President Johnson came out to greet us on the lawn across from Lafayette Park.  He made some comments about our abilities as students and then spent a few seconds shaking hands as politicians do in any crowd.  Since I was standing close to the sidewalk where he passed, I got to shake his hand.  That was my first close encounter with the “rich and famous.”

Several years later, I had become an English teacher myself.  In 1991 I was attending the National Council of Teachers of English fall convention in Atlanta, Georgia.  Part of the excitement of that convention was that we were to be the first public audience for Mel Gibson’s new movie version of Hamlet.  Almost 1,000 of us crowded into a large theatre in Atlanta to watch the movie.  It was terrific!  I very much liked the interpretation.  Mel was good as the tragic Prince of Denmark and he had also made his directorial debut with this film (I don’t know what has happened with him since then). When the movie was over, NCTE President Shirley Haley-James came on stage to talk briefly about this opportunity and, the biggest surprise of all, to introduce Mel Gibson!  He was there in person to gauge the reactions of those he thought would be his toughest critics—English teachers.

I had been a member of several committees for NCTE and had worked with Shirley Haley-James and a few of the other national officers.  After the movie, I was standing outside the theatre talking with some of the officers, when Shirley came to our small group with Mel in tow!  I met him, shook his hand, and told him how much I had enjoyed the movie.  That was a real treat for me to meet someone whose work I enjoyed, but my appreciation for Mel Gibson grew a few months later when I received in the mail an autographed picture of him!

When I’ve gone to places like the nation’s capital or to a national convention—places where famous people might be found—I haven’t been too surprised to see them or, I guess, even to meet them.  It’s a much bigger surprise, however, when I’ve been doing something fairly routine, part of my daily activities, and have the same experiences.  While waiting on my flight to be called at Eppley Air Field early one morning, I had a pleasant conversation with then-Nebraska Governor Kay Orr.  She was on her way to Washington, D.C., to talk about teacher education, so I took the opportunity to give an insider’s point of view.  She had some questions for me, as well, about teacher preparation in Nebraska.  Former Nebraska governor and senator Bob Kerrey and I spoke together briefly while sharing an elevator at Midland Lutheran College one afternoon.  Again, I was able to talk informally with an important decision-maker about my profession.  Both Mrs. Orr and Mr. Kerrey were friendly and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.

A few summers my friend Jim and I went to play golf at Miracle Hill Golf Course in Omaha.  It’s a popular public course and, as usual, the course was busy, so we were paired with another couple of fellows to make a foursome.  Neither my friend nor I had any idea who these other two were, even after we all introduced ourselves.  We chatted good-naturedly through the first couple of holes, talking mostly about the game and how badly we all played.

At one point, one of our new partners, a very tall, stocky man in his late 40’s who was sporting a long blond ponytail, proceeded to make a phone call.  He spoke at length to someone and then discussed the conversation with his partner.  Jim and I could tell from what we were overhearing that the two of them had something to do with the entertainment industry, so we asked what they did for a living.  We were just making small talk to kill time.

The shorter of the pair, who called himself BoBo, introduced his friend as Trace Adkins, a country-western singer.  BoBo was the drummer in his band.  Neither of us recognized the singer’s name, so BoBo rattled off the titles of a few of their well-known songs and Jim said that he had heard of some of them.

We enjoyed the rest of our golf game and talked mostly about the game.  Afterward Jim and I gave them a ride back to their hotel and Trace was kind enough to autograph some pictures for us.  A few weeks later we saw a biography about Trace and his life and discovered that he’s very well known among real Country & Western music fans.  Since then, I’ve been a fan myself.

From the White House to the clubhouse, I’m never too surprised anymore where I might run into famous or important people.  They lead interesting lives, but they still have to get from one place to another; they need to know that the work they do is appreciated; and they make time to enjoy themselves . . . just like everyone else.  We are separated from them merely by circumstance—or happenstance.  Sometimes it would be nice if they remembered that.

In Sickness and in Health

My Good Wife and I married almost 38 years ago. Although she held a few part-time jobs in the first few years of our marriage, when our first son was born, she decided that the only job she wanted was wife and mother. Luckily, we could make this work. Most of our “division of labor” was a result of that decision, but we did talk about a few of the family chores, and, in general, I take care of the outside of the house and she takes care of the inside. I do a few things indoors now and then—I run a mean vacuum (but too fast, according to all the women in my family). She does some planting outside and enjoys “supervising” everything else.

During my youth and bachelor days, I did learn how to do a little laundry. (I have a pink football jersey to prove it. The white jersey did not like my red boot socks.) My maternal grandparents were custodians and I cleaned bathrooms at a very early age. Both of my grandmothers and my mother were outstanding cooks and taught me to follow a recipe and experiment. I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself. Breakfast is my forté…or cooking over a campfire. Since I’ve been married, however, the Good Wife has taken care of most of these chores, and I’ve confined my cooking skills to mastering the grill. It’s been a good arrangement (for me, anyway).

Getting older has brought us both its numerous challenges and new experiences. After years of fairly good health, we’ve had our share of aches and pains and interesting maladies; nothing too long term, fortunately. That all changed last month when my Better Half decided it was time to do something about the pain in her right heel. She was diagnosed with acute Achilles tendonosis, and the orthopedic doctor she was seeing finally recommended surgery. She new it was coming and put it off as long as possible—when would be “the right time” to be in a cast for a month, a walking boot for another month, at least, and who knows how long for physical therapy?

We live in a two-storey house. The master bedroom and bath are upstairs—15 steps. There is no bedroom on the main floor and only a narrow half-bath. My Good Wife has never been on crutches before and doesn’t do well with them. She’s not one to sit for very long…too busy…”a woman’s work is never done.” The essential confinement to her chair and the inside of the house on first floor were her great dreads. The idea of eating my cooking and knowing that I would be responsible for keeping her house clean were the subject of nightmares.

A pre-surgery physical therapy session helped her understand how to use the crutches, but also introduced her to a walker and—her salvation—a knee roller. The grandsons think Grandma’s “scooter” is cool. The biggest problem throughout has been the steps…not to the upstairs, but into the house itself (there are three, plus the doorsill) and the one step down into the living room—now our bedroom.
Today is “cast off” day, and we’re both looking forward to this milestone in her healing and recuperation. My cooking hasn’t been all that bad…and we’ve had some good meals provided by our sons and daughter-in-law. We have done some take out, of course, but not much more than usual.
We’re both very ready to get our lives back. I’m not sure that’s really going to happen, though. Every year brings new challenges merely because we’re growing older. We keep adjusting to new aches and pains, joints that aren’t as limber as they used to be, strength that seems closer to weakness.

One thing that has been made quite clear to us as we’ve weathered this new experience, however, is that after almost 40 years together, together we can handle anything life throws at us.

I’d like to think that in the near future it’s going to throw us some peace for a while!