INTERCESSION

Peeling back facades, exposing inner hearts, revealing the underbelly of society occurs daily, hourly, instantly. Spin around cable channels, flip through newspapers, hit the social media platforms, or simply listen to those who cross our paths looking for an open ear. 

Sometimes we can sink in a morass of hopeless, a quagmire of negativity that taints our everyday existence. I have been there, more often than not. I am guilty of succumbing to the swirling darkness as the world seems to move farther and farther from my immediate control. I do not do so intentionally, but the challenge always remains to find that balance, to hear those stories, to witness those moments, to act in those moments which make life a little more bearable for those in need.

Intercession.

We had an early release day at school last Friday. After a long Thursday, an exciting Day As a Knight during which prospective grade school students spent the day with us at Wheeling Central and the subsequent four hours of parent-teacher conferences for our current students, I do not feel guilty saying that the early release day was a blessing. I was experiencing a good tired, but I was also cranky, impatient,  and running on fumes. Once I cleaned up the mess I had made of my room, I left around 1:30, drove down to Center Market to pick up a couple fish sandwiches for my mom and myself for dinner.

The line was not long, but an elderly couple slowly wound their way through the line directly in front of me. The wife ordered their meal, led her less mobile husband around the metal stanchions, then paid the Coleman's cashier. Any tension I had, any eagerness I had to retrieve my food, any anxiety I had regarding the line not moving quickly enough dissipated as the three of us moved closer to the exit.

The older lady took the food, carefully maneuvered her husband around the corner to leave, then stopped to fill a paper container from the ketchup dispenser. Her hands were full, literally and figuratively, the bags of food in one arm, her husband awaiting her next direction. She pumped the plunger on the ketchup dispenser, but the back was loose and kept popping up from behind, preventing the ketchup from ever dispensing. I reached over, pushed the back down, and smiled while offering, "Here, let me help you with that." Relief flowed over all of our faces as we both left through different doors.

Intercession.

Saturday morning I opened Facebook to see what was going on in the world of my family and friends, trying to bypass any news articles about the government or accounts of turmoil in the world. I cannot always avoid this, but sometimes I just need to do so. I came across my friend, my former student Sabrina Thompson. When I visited Sabrina last year in New York at Google Headquarters, she spent the day showing me around New York, taking me for my first rides on the subway. Sabrina occasionally recounts her experiences on the subway, and I often wonder what I would do if I were in her situation. This is her most recent adventure on a packed subway train related through my voice with Sabrina's own Facebook comments.

"It is the a.m. rush hour. I squeeze into a train car. The next stop I see a VERY pregnant lady (at least 8 months) inch onto the crowded train. No one sitting can really see her belly because it is packed. After I saw her swaying and about to fall, I tap her and say, 'Miss, would you like to sit? I can ask someone to get up for you." 

Intercession.

That is the kind of person Sabrina is; she will call out people for rudeness and disrespect in a heartbeat. She sees two people near her. One is a man who is out-cold, fast asleep with his "had cocked back and mouth open."  Beside him is a a young woman "in her early 20's doing her make up on the train."

Sabrina waits until the woman is done before smiling politely and asking her to let the pregnant woman sit down. I wonder what I would have done. Seriously. I can only imagine what would have happened. Sabrina confirms my worst fears as she recounts how the 20 year old immediately makes a scene by yelling, "Bi*ch, you mean to tell me you are not going to ask the man to get up but another woman for a woman? Your mind is f*cked up!"

Sabrina persevered and told her that he is sleeping and that she would have gone elsewhere were she sleeping as well. The 20 year old continues to curse and finally moves because the entire train is now watching her behavior, and she begrudgingly allows the pregnant woman to sit down. Sabrina describes the 20 year old who is standing beside her as "still talking smack," but Sabrina is the more level-headed of the two, putting on her headphones and not saying another word since the pregnant woman now has a seat. 

Others have witnessed this scene and "out of the blue some older West Indian lady...watching this go down scolds the HELL out of the 20 year old! (T)his lady laid her out saying a combo of 'you never know what tomorrow brings and if you need someone to intercede...INTERCEDE...INTERCEDE on behalf of you!'"

Intercession.

Most of my friends understand my passion for BBC's Doctor Who, the science-fiction series about the last time-lord of his race, a person who simply tries to make any situation in which he finds himself better. The Doctor is more successful than he is not, but he is always about making choices to do the right thing. This is by far my favorite speech:

“Winning? Is that what you think it’s about? I’m not trying to win. I’m not doing this because I want to beat someone, or because I hate someone, or because I want to blame someone. It’s not because it’s fun. God knows it’s not because it’s easy. It’s not even because it works because it hardly ever does.. I do what I do because it's right! Because it’s decent! And above all, it’s kind! It’s just that.. Just kind. 

If I run away today, good people will die. If I stand and fight, some of them might live. Maybe not many, maybe not for long. Hey, you know, maybe there’s no point to any of this at all. But it’s the best I can do. So I’m going to do it. And I will stand here doing it until it kills me. And you’re going to die too! Some day.. And how will that be? Have you thought about it? What would you die for? Who I am is where I stand.. Where I stand is where I fall. Stand with me. These people are terrified. Maybe we can help a little. Why not, just at the end, just be kind?”         

The Doctor

Most people do not ride subways every day, but the subway is definitely a microcosm for a world in which we find ourselves. There are those moments when we are standing in line at the fish market with a person who needs help carrying bags, there are those instances when we see someone struggling internally, there are those times when we have an opportunity for action, when we can be a voice for reason, when we can stand with those who need support. We know when to do the right thing, when there is a moment of need, when we need to intercede on behalf of another, when we need to just be kind.

Credits:

Google Images

Sabrina Thompson

Stewart Seyfried YouTube Channel

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW

I do not know how long I carried around that old burnt-orange gym bag. I know I chose this style decades ago while shopping at the old Value City store in Benwood, WV, where there now sits a Kia dealership. Back when it was brand-spanking new, the gym bag's burnt-orange waterproof canvas possessed a warm glow and its black plastic bottom was hard and solid, providing a sturdy foundation for all the crap I carried in it. This gym bag once maintained some semblance of form even when it was not overstuffed with odorous Nike cross-training shoes, sweaty reversible shorts, stinking shirts, socks, and drawers, as well as those moldy towels. 

I recently noticed that my burnt-orange gym bag had slowly started to fall apart. The canvas has faded, the color devolving into a patchwork of limited original color interspersed throughout lighter faded spots, water stains, and dark scuff marks. The hard plastic bottom has cracked on all of the corners while the firm bottom matting has grown irreconcilably softened, unable to confidently bear the weight of all that I carry with me. This gym bag has served me for so long:  gym trips, work days at school, vacations to the beach, trips between North Carolina and West Virginia. This gym bag traveled with me to more places, carried stuff I needed and stuff that was useless, and now mirrored the malaise and indifference that had begun to permeate my life.

As much as I loved, still embraced, and comfortably carried my old burnt-orange gym bag, I knew it was time for change. 

I traversed across the Ohio Valley, stopping in every store I thought would have gym bags on their shelves; I searched online at Amazon Prime for a new bag that could be sent to me in two shipping days. Nothing matched my vision for the future, the new directions I wanted to take. Nothing matched until I went to T.J. Maxx at The Highlands. Honestly I had given up hope until there it sat, the burgundy red gym bag with black and dark gray trim. Damn! Those side pockets were huge, adorned with shiny new zippers with hard plastic pulleys on each end. The top flap unzipped to reveal a spacious interior, one which had a sturdy matting which reminded me of my old bag when it was once new. This was it. This was the new gym bag to carry all of my stuff, to take me places I wanted to travel in the future, to transform me into someone who desperately wanted to move into the next stage of his life.

Monday night I packed the new burgundy red bag with my school clothes for the next day. I stuffed my shoes with a belt and socks, I neatly folded my trusty khakis, dress shirt, and tie, and, finally, I filled my travel bag with deodorant, shaving necessities, and a toothbrush. I carried my burgundy bag down to my Explorer where it waited for me until the next morning when I began my early morning workouts, exercise that I could not accomplish when I wanted to go with my burnt-orange bag after school. Despite a restless night's sleep in anticipation of the upcoming day, I had a bounce in my step the next morning. 

I left the Wellness Center that morning, put my gym bag in the back seat, then headed off to school through the rainy morning. As I began ascending the stairs to my third floor classroom, my wet plastic lunch bag slipped through my hand, scattering pieces of the stoneware container, rice, chicken, and veggies across the tiled floor. I had to laugh at this. I shrugged it off, cleaned up my mess, taught my classes, ate a couple granola bars and surviving tangelos for lunch, straightened up my room, then headed home for the day. I carried that burgundy red gym bag upstairs to my bedroom where I took out the damp clothes then repacked it with my work clothes for the next day. 

I continued the week repeating the same ritual with my burgundy red bag, finding a rhythm, doing my best to ignore the rascally gremlins as they appeared throughout the day: the students who had extra "sass" in their voices, the random events that trashed my daily schedule, my crazy coworkers (you know who you are 😏). I wanted to focus on some positive aspects of my life: the enthusiasm of the largest senior class I have taught since returning to Central, the colleagues who were excited about doing something new in their classrooms (you know who you are 😏), and my renewed energy. I stayed a little longer every day, reading some good essays, coming up with some new rewards on Classcraft, and listening to Stevie Nicks as I enjoyed being in the moment.

On Friday afternoon I threw my burgundy red bag in the Explorer and sped to Morgantown where I spent the evening with my North Carolina friend Kathy and her husband Kelly while we watched their daughter Emma Jane shut out the Mountaineer soccer team as goalie for the Duke Blue Devils. Kathy captured pictures of me posing as a childlike fan with the Duke team as the three of us greeted the players after the game. I even picked up some promised autographs and well-wishes for the soccer players in my classes. Everyone seemed surprised that I made this trip. "Go! That sounds like fun!" I think they knew it was a trip I needed. It was more special than I ever realized it could have been. Kathy and I, the consummate English teachers, talked about how this was so surreal for both of us. That is what we English teachers do even in our spare time, even when we have not seen each other in a year, even when we live five hundred miles apart—we discuss the underlying meaning of everything.

Back in the day I was content coming home to quietly relax after a hectic week. In the future I will more than likely do that again and be perfectly fine with that choice. Back then I had a burnt-orange bag that suited me fine for where I was at the time, where I wanted to go, who I wanted to be. I am not tossing out the old bag. I will put some "stuff" in there, some sweatshirts I no longer wear, some dog blankets I may not need for a while, some pictures I can keep in my memory for the time being. Now, my burgundy red bag is ready to travel with me to new places, to experience more moments, to live life differently than I had. With any luck this new gym bag will be as durable as the previous, lasting long enough until I realize I need a new, maybe even better, one.