Sounds of Silence

Hello, Darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk to you again
About a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
- Simon and Garfunkel

I love the night. I always have. It brings a sense of calm that is found nowhere else - and smells that are not present during the day. It has a life of its own. There are times I open my windows, close my eyes, and just breathe in the night. And its transforms me. I think that is why I don't like this shift of going to bed earlier and getting up earlier. I get the same amount of sleep, and there are beautiful things about the morning and the sunrise, but they do not restore me like the night does.

When my girls were little, we had a book called, "Walk When the Moon is Full." It was about a mom that took her children out for a night walk every full moon for a year. She wrote about the things they saw on those walks and it was a simpl,e beautiful book. We did that. Went on our own midnight walks during the full moon for a year. We had that luxury, me being an at-home mom and homeschooling my daughters at the time.

When you're away from the city, and truly experiencing the night, it does not place demands on a person. It is a time to let go, relax, and experience a different state of being. And at those times, I am most likely to have my visions come to me. I don't know if we all have it and some are just more sensitive to it, or if only some people have it. I read a book once called, "The Intuitive Principal: A Guide to Leadership." It was about how good leaders pay attention to all the surrounding sensory information without even realizing it, and how to develop that part of leadership to benefit your students and staff.

When I can truly clear my mind, I am amazed at what "percolates" to the top, the visions or premonitions I have. There are times I know it goes beyond the sensory information I have available and I've learned to trust it. I know it comes from the Boe side of the family. My sister has it, my cousin has experienced it. We just guard it is all.

I knew I would marry Greg long before I started dating him. I knew to drive to my sister's house at 10pm with a newborn baby in tow because I had a premonition something was terribly wrong and only months later did she tell me she had planned to kill herself that night. I have had premonitions about my daughters that I still hold tightly. I have heard my mother's voice at unexpected times. These things do not make sense to the rational person. And yet they are.

That is why I need the night. To clear my head. So I can hear everything I am supposed to hear, and not all the noise and clatter of the daytime.

Better Than I Used to Be

I know how to hold a grudge
I can send a bridge up in smoke
- Tim McGraw

When I was growing up, and we were on the receiving end of something that made us angry, angry enough to give a sarcastic response, lash out, or be vengeful, my mother always had the same response: "Don't stoop to their level."

That's good advice, but difficult to live. My passions run deep whether it's excitement, anger, love, or irritation. And so when people irritate me or make me impatient, my knee-jerk response is to say something snarky. And at the same time I know that's how bridges get burnt.

My thick skin and straight-forwardness mean I have to make a conscious effort to filter what I say, to consider how it will be received by others. I think this is why I find my job so tiring. I love what I do, but when my office is an endless parade of upset parents, worried teachers, misbehaving students, and other people who want my time, I have to be on my game for 10 hours straight, constantly filtering what I say. Am I being politic? Compassionate? Looking at the issue from everyone's perspective? Framing my response diplomatically? Finding the balance between firmness and kindness? Leaving everyone's dignity intact? Leaving everyone's dignity intact is so important, however, that I've written it into the performance review for all of my staff. In all situations, whether they are working with students, parents, or colleagues, there is never reason to ridicule or demean another human being.

I watch my daughters and how they deal with others and wonder if they are just much more patient than I am, or if they have learned to respond better than I have. But I am impressed, over and over, with their ability to handle themselves with grace in difficult situations. With life experiences, they will continue to be challenged, and I am convinced they will continue to grow. That is the challenge of any adult, to continue to strive to be a better person.

I'm learning who you've been
Ain't who you've got to be

Highway 20 Ride

A day might come you'll realize
That if you see through my eyes
There was no other way to work it out
And a part of you might hate me
But son, please don’t mistake me
For a man that didn’t care at all
-Zac Brown Band

Today at work we had to call County Social Services. A family whose kids go to my school is going through a nasty divorce and at conferences, one of the boys said that his father had been beating him. We know the family though, and strongly suspect Mom put him up to it as a way to get back at Dad during the divorce proceedings. But we're mandatory reporters. We have to call social services and let them sort it out. Dad called us later, upset and wanting to know what was said. We don't go there. Social services gets to sort that out too.

In the school setting, I've watched enough families go through divorces to see the good, the bad, and the ugly. The good is where the parents realize it just wasn't meant to be for whatever reason, or it's time to move on. They make the decision to make the best of it and try to work together to cause the least disruption in their kids' lives. There may be a few bumps in the road while they're trying to get it figured out but for the most part, it's the best it can be given the circumstances.

The bad is where one parent is injured and isn't able to heal. And because of that, they child has to keep reliving it over and over. The other parent is then put in the position of trying to help a child who is stuck. Depending on the age of the child and the skills of the parent, the child be able to move past the injured parent - or maybe not. But if they can't, the school that sees all sorts of behaviors along the way....insecurities, absenteeism, acting out, poor grades, disorganization, anxiety.

When it gets ugly, we see things where one parent cannot move past their own pain and actively seeks to damage the other - with disregard for the impact it's having on the child. Or maybe with some sort of understanding of the damage it's doing, but feels the need to damage the other parent outweighs the well-being of their child. When the need to damage another adult overtakes the need to protect one's child, something is very wrong. A parent may try to stage the situation, implying that the other parent is at fault and they are only protecting their child from these actions. In almost every instance I've been witness to, the child knows what he is seeing does not fit with what he is being told and one of two things happen... If they are young, their minds are trying to come up with some rationale to explain the dichotomy and it causes them a great deal of angst. Or if they are old enough to see through it, it simply causes a great deal of anger.

I have actually had this family in my office and talked to them about all this. And that for the sake of their kids, they need to find some neutral ground because I've seen what happens when families don't. For a while, they were managing - at least where school was concerned. Dad especially. I see how he interacts with his boys, and it's clear he really does try to be a good dad but he's caught in an impossible situation. If it's getting so extreme that they can't maintain that neutral ground, it's not always a bad thing that social services gets involved. As upset as this dad is, social services might bring some normalcy to these boys' lives where he can't.

And my whole world
It begins and ends with you
On that Highway 20 ride

The video for this song is sweet. You watch Zac Brown driving down the road and you think he's going to see his son. But at the end of the video, it's an old man who opens the door. And you realize he's the boy in the song, all grown up, going to visit his dad. It's tender and loving. Despite all the difficulties kids go through, they know when their loved. And they know when adults genuinely care about them. And that's the best we can do. These two boys at school act out a lot. And it's no small wonder with everything they're going through. But they have a free pass to come to my office and talk to me whenever they want to. I want my office to be a safe place for them - because they don't have a safe place at home. Because I want them to know I care and will always take the time for them - because the adults at home have a hard time with that. And because I want them to excuse themselves when they feel close to the edge - rather than get sent down after they're in trouble. We need places for kids to feel safe and feel loved.

Cool An' Green An' Shady

Find yourself a piece of grassy ground,
Lay down close your eyes.
Lose yourself or maybe find yourself
While your free spirit flies.
- John Denver

When women prepare for childbirth, the instructors will tell them to visualize something that takes their mind off the contractions. I do the same thing when I am getting a cavity filled because I don't let the dentist use Novocaine - my dislike of needles is so intense, I would rather just take my mind somewhere else than be jabbed with a needle. Being able to do this is a skill many disciplines use. And the place I always go is the same...up to the woods where our cabin was in Cushing, MN. This week was particularly stressful for me at work, and as I went to my Saturday massage, I needed to do everything I could to relax for that one hour and make it worth my money for the massage. So I sent my mind up to Cushing while the masseuse took care of my body. And I was astounded at what I could recall...

My dad and his two sisters bought eighty acres of woods from a local farmer in the small town of Cushing, MN. Almost every weekend, we'd pack up the station wagon and head up there. We parked down at what we called Campsite Number One, the level spot down by the road, and walked up the trail past Campsite Number Two on our left. Then the path got narrow between two marshy areas that were lush with ferns and the horsetail rushes we'd make ornate necklaces with. Small logs crossed the path here to help us keep our footing where the ground got muddy. It took a lot of trips up and down the trail to bring up clothes and food and water - and no one wanted to get stuck carrying the five gallon galvanized water jug. It was heavy.

After the marshes the trail got steeper and went through a grove of Aspen trees that, on sunny days, were whiter than white. We would peel bark off them to draw on and do other crafts until my father explained you could kill the tree if you took too much. I can still picture almost every tree along the way. And so we continued up the hill to Campsite Number Three where at the top, you took a slight left and there you were: the open space that held the shed, the A-frame and the dome. The shed was a 10x10' metal shed that stored much of our stuff between seasons while we were still tent camping and before the cabin was built. The A-frame was a small scale experiment into one possible model for our cabin-to-be, but my father and uncle decided not to go with that idea. The little A-frame became the outhouse. And then there was the dome.

My father and uncle researched and decided to build a geodesic dome for our cabin. They laid a floor of old railroad ties and second-hand planking. They cut all the pieces for the dome in my uncle's garage, brought them to Cushing, and then we worked to assemble them. Many years later, my aunt referred to it as "our hippie days". I never thought of my parents as hippies, only that spending all our weekends in the woods was a wonderful way to grow up.

If you went past the dome there was a small path that led to a wonderful rope swing. My cousin Mark took a 100' coil of rope and scaled an impossible height in a perfect tree. It was at the bottom of a hill with very little brush around it. We tied a stick to the bottom of the rope to make a seat. And at the top of the hill, we built a tree stand of sorts to stand on - a log laid across the V of two other trees. You could climb up on it to get extra height, then jump with the rope in a mad tangle of legs to get yourself situated on the seat, and swing across into the treetops on the other side of the little valley at he bottom of the hill. It was exhilarating and we would take turns doing it for hours.

But when I needed to be alone, I went the other direction. Back toward the dome, across the campsite, and a short walk into the woods would take you to a large open grassy area, the gas line. It was about 300' wide and miles long and the county gas line ran under ground. If I kept going, and crossed into the woods on the other side, if I looked for the deer path that provided a small break in the foliage, it would lead me to the place I still go to in my mind 40 years later.

It was at the top of a ridge that gently sloped down to a marsh. I could see all the wildlife that came and went around the edges of the marsh. There was a fallen log to the left that made a wonderful place to sit. I would sit for hours...in peace. There was something that drew me to that place...and still does. All these years later. I can picture every tree. I can feel the warmth of the sun and see how it filters through the leaves. The smell of dried leaves mixes with the fresh humid smell of the earth. The smell of sun mixed with shade.

It was amazing how much more I remembered today during an hour of massage, instead of after an hour of drilling or hours of labor. Still, it's a good place to go. It always has been.

Amarillo Sky

He just takes the tractor another round
And pulls the plow across the ground
And sends up another prayer
He says Lord I never complain I never ask why
But please don't let my dream run dry
Underneath, underneath this amarillo sky
- Jason Aldean

What is important about this song is the video that goes with it. Jason Aldean put three real farmers in it...three young men, ages 17, 19, and 19, who are third or fourth generation farmers, holding onto the family farm. You hear about farming on the news from time to time, and certainly come elections, but it tends to stop there. It's not glamorous, it doesn't provide the dramatic visuals that our news media loves to play, but those of us who aren't farmers need to be cognizant of what they do, and so good for people like Jason Aldean for putting these young men in his video.

There are farmers along the county road where I live and my sister lives next door to farmers, even though we're technically part of the Twin Cities - that's how engrained it is in the Midwest. I know several people who farm, and there's a reason it comes up during every election. Their livelihood affects us all...and so we need to be educating our children about these issues along with all the other election issues during Civics classes. Jason Aldean also has a song about "Fly-Over States", the states that don't have the big economic centers and cities in them like New York or LA, the states that are simply known for their farming. And yet it's the commodities from these fly-over states that provide the business and trade for the large cities.

On his knees every night he prays
Please let my crops and children grow
Cause that's all he's ever known

And this is what I love about Country Music. It constantly reminds us what is real, and important, and keeps us centered. It keeps us humble, and reminds us what really matters.

The Marine's Hymn

First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of United States Marine.

The night before the burial of her husband 2nd Lt. James Cathey of the United States Marine Corps, killed in Iraq, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of him, and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. "I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it" she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted".

This is an excerpt from a series by a pair of journalists who were chronicling the stories of families who lost loved ones in Iraq. I found the picture so moving, I kept coming back to it. When I looked into the whole series, and this story in particular, it moved me to tears.

There was a book I read for a college class once called "Canek" that was about South American culture, particularly the ancient Mayan cultures. At one point in the story, they talked about needing to send men off to war, and so they sent their young men off to fight, but these men were young and foolish and they ran and did not fight. And so they sent their felons and prisoners, who were horrified at what they saw and threw down their arms and ran. Finally there was no one left to fight except the husbands and fathers. And these men fought with honor and bravery and fierceness - because they had something worth defending. That thought has never left me, and I have kept that book all these years.

To love another human being so unselfishly that you would give your life for them is a hard concept to understand, I think, until you become a parent. To love our country and our liberties and our ideals enough to be willing to give your life for them is an even greater commitment. And this is why we need to honor our Servicemen and Women, and support their families, and teach our children patriotism.

And on this Valentines Day, I see no greater illustration of love. A man who died because he loved his country, and his wife who so visibly loved him that she spent her last possible night with him, and the Marine who watched over them both. What the photo does not show you, what you find out if you read the whole article that goes with this photo, is that she is pregnant with his son.