Rainy Friday

It's one of those days; a cold and rainy day that is going to make the ride into work less pleasurable than it usually is. Those of you who have known me for a long time will probably question my sincerity in my recent delight at exercise (bike riding particularly) but I am serious. I am really enjoying my long daily rides.

Well, except when the weather is like this. Granted, it is still only about 05:45, but it is dark, cold, and drizzly outside the window. The occasional car passes as I sit here, eating my breakfast, drinking my coffee, and writing my blog entry. Weather like this takes back to 1968 in Miami.

I remember mornings like this, the oatmeal mother had served for breakfast sitting like a rock in my stomach, my first grade teacher, Mrs. Greene, a lovely little old lady with white hair rolled into a French braid and smelling of lavender. The two best readers of the previous day (seldom if ever, yours truly) getting the privilege of sitting in the airline seats as Mrs. Greene drones on and on about how reading opens-up the world to you. "Reading makes it possible for you to share experiences with others." She would say.

Oh, gosh! I have just re-read that paragraph and should say a word about the airline seats. I haven't thought about the airline seats in years! Mrs. Greene had a son who was in the airline industry. (I recall that he was a mechanic for one of the airlines that was based in Miami.) He had gotten his mom a pair of airline seats from a DC3 that was being decommissioned by his airline. So she put them in her classroom and the two best students from the day before got to sit in the airline seats for the day!

I remember days just like today back then. I would stare out the windows of Village Green Elementary at the swollen, black clouds above and the puddles forming on the field across Southwest 122nd Avenue, the feeling of cold moodiness of the morning. I'm sitting on a barstool in a kitchen in southwest London writing on a PDA, a product of the cusp of the 21st century not in a classroom in Miami forty years ago but that same bleak light is coming through the windows here. (I did get to sit in the airline seat to get here; I guess that counts for something.)

Mrs. Greene, I toast you with my coffee. She was right about reading and writing being the way to share with others your feelings, views, and experiences. I think that she would be pleased that another of your assessments has turned out wrong, however. I was recently sent a bundle of my old report cards by my step-mom. Flo had found the papers that my parents had saved from childhood. Mrs. Green had written on the bottom of my report card each quarter that I have a problem with concentration. I tend to gaze off into space and go woolgathering. She wrote: "Donald needs to work on his organizational skills. He is poorly organized and tends to waste time that could be better spent on productive coursework." Since my job is basically to organize things and work under tight deadlines, I think she would be pleased with the results of her advice.

Here's to you, Mrs. Greene, and all those marvelous teachers like you; wherever you may be today!

Don Bergquist - 06 October 2006 - Thames Ditton, Surrey, UK