My summer is spent grazing the neighbourhood garage sales in search of a good book...or even some outgrown back-packing supplies belonging to someone who doesn't have time for fun anymore. Books are the main item to line my bags on my bike, though as I hit the trail of treasures that seem to line the streets of my neighborhood.
I have truly come to treasure the words of other people and when heartily sought out,you will find those words that are like apples of gold to be beheld and cherished for lifetimes to come.
Recently, I was cleaning off a book shelf, in my desperate desire to satisfy my obsessive compulsive disorder to become a minimalist. Sifting through books that could be donated, or given to the hospital volunteer book room, I stumbled across a piece of gold, in my mind that I could not bear to part with. It was on old short story text book that I had remembered from highschool. I found this at one of the garage sales years ago. It seemed to call out to me that day . I bought it for a mere 3 bucks, after much deliberation. I remember not reading it in grade 11. Mrs Scharf was my teacher and we seemed to spend so much time in that book...but I existed in another frame of mind all that time. I never did do the readings. but squeaked by with the memorization of things discussed in class and got the basics required for the rest of the classroom tasks. But this time around the book called me to read it.
As I did, my eyes filled with wonder, astonished at the pictures painted with words inside...These words became like those golden apples...and I wished that I had paid more attention in class....where would I be today if I had?
SO many words today are wasted, Slang, cussing, or vague attempts to cuss but using something less offensive to replace it. Murmurings, complainings, muttering in the deep parts of our breath. Why do we waste or replace words that are so precious, so important?
In the latter parts of my marriage and after it fell apart I came to know the power of silence. You can't discover it until you go to loud places of your soul, where you hear all the terrible things said about you by others and more-so, by yourself. But when silence takes over, the loud parts can't speak anymore and you start to hear the powerful words come out. The ones that help you see the good things about yourself and others, the words that let you see past the things that clouded your vision before.
For a very long time I remained silent and learned the new words that I would speak of today, encouraging those around me, helping girls and women discover that they can climb out of their destructive life patterns , that they are worth something, that they can have victory in their lives. Words that only take a couple of minutes to say...but much deliberation before speaking them...because we have to make sure they build up and repair, not tear down and scar.
Years ago, I had a math Teacher, Mr Krull. He was My math teacher for 4 semesters of Math 20. I failed each class with a 33, a 39 and a 44% final grade. The fourth time I went to the staff room and presented to him a drop sheet and re-enrolled in Math 23. His words to me, "I was wondering when You'd finally give up and drop Math 20." I handed him the paper without words, he signed it and I said, "Thank you, Sir." that was it...I had failed without even receiving a finishing grade.
I managed to pass Math 23 with a 60 something mark. Then in My second grade 12 semester I entered Mr. MacNamee's class. I determined to sit at the front and pay attention...although, it was hard sometimes , as I sat ahead of the class clown (and now famous Tommy Hilfiger model" Paul Greene. He was full of wonderful words, calling the teacher Mr. "Smack-my-knee" and tapping me on the shoulder saying, "Hey, Fire Crotch, can you help me with this question?"
I struggled in that class. Mr. MacNamee had tried and true methods of helping most people become math geniuses, grouping up the smart ones with the lesser to help us along in our understandings of the workings of numbers. I remember one day in particular where it was a big exam part way through the semester, and I turned to the 3rd page and my mind went blank. No longer did math equations sit before me, but a page of what seemed to be computer wing-dings that I didn't understand...my mind couldn't compute the figures set before me. I cried and sat there staring for what seemed to be hours. The teacher walked the aisles to see how we were progressing, some people had already handed in their exams. and he stooped near me. he crouched down in front of my desk and looked at me. My face red from my upset. he told me to take my time...but the class was almost over. I told him that I didn't know any of this, that it wasn't coming to mind. He knew how much I fought with it and attempted to encourage my thoughts with triggers to remember in hopes of speeding me along...without actually telling me how to do it.
I have no recollection of how that exam came out in the end..but I will always remember that day and the time he took for me in those 8 minutes of a rescue mission to bring me to success. I do know that I passed that semester with an 89%. Even though I struggled so hard that day...his words were apples of gold placed there on my desk.
Discovering that old text book takes me back to that day of Mr. MacNamee's class, and thoughts of how, in a sense I have discovered yet another old textbook of sorts...in re-discovering Mr.MacNamee online...
In my endeavors to write, he is there again, set before me with baskets of apples wrapped in gold, encouraging my writing with his words.
I'm no professional, I did not pay attention to the rules of writing back in school....but they still hold great importance to me and others. Words that come from the abundance of the heart reach farther than any grammatical technicalities ...to some people it's all slang anyway.
I appreciate your words, Graham.
You are a textbook to behold.
I have truly come to treasure the words of other people and when heartily sought out,you will find those words that are like apples of gold to be beheld and cherished for lifetimes to come.
Recently, I was cleaning off a book shelf, in my desperate desire to satisfy my obsessive compulsive disorder to become a minimalist. Sifting through books that could be donated, or given to the hospital volunteer book room, I stumbled across a piece of gold, in my mind that I could not bear to part with. It was on old short story text book that I had remembered from highschool. I found this at one of the garage sales years ago. It seemed to call out to me that day . I bought it for a mere 3 bucks, after much deliberation. I remember not reading it in grade 11. Mrs Scharf was my teacher and we seemed to spend so much time in that book...but I existed in another frame of mind all that time. I never did do the readings. but squeaked by with the memorization of things discussed in class and got the basics required for the rest of the classroom tasks. But this time around the book called me to read it.
As I did, my eyes filled with wonder, astonished at the pictures painted with words inside...These words became like those golden apples...and I wished that I had paid more attention in class....where would I be today if I had?
SO many words today are wasted, Slang, cussing, or vague attempts to cuss but using something less offensive to replace it. Murmurings, complainings, muttering in the deep parts of our breath. Why do we waste or replace words that are so precious, so important?
In the latter parts of my marriage and after it fell apart I came to know the power of silence. You can't discover it until you go to loud places of your soul, where you hear all the terrible things said about you by others and more-so, by yourself. But when silence takes over, the loud parts can't speak anymore and you start to hear the powerful words come out. The ones that help you see the good things about yourself and others, the words that let you see past the things that clouded your vision before.
For a very long time I remained silent and learned the new words that I would speak of today, encouraging those around me, helping girls and women discover that they can climb out of their destructive life patterns , that they are worth something, that they can have victory in their lives. Words that only take a couple of minutes to say...but much deliberation before speaking them...because we have to make sure they build up and repair, not tear down and scar.
Years ago, I had a math Teacher, Mr Krull. He was My math teacher for 4 semesters of Math 20. I failed each class with a 33, a 39 and a 44% final grade. The fourth time I went to the staff room and presented to him a drop sheet and re-enrolled in Math 23. His words to me, "I was wondering when You'd finally give up and drop Math 20." I handed him the paper without words, he signed it and I said, "Thank you, Sir." that was it...I had failed without even receiving a finishing grade.
I managed to pass Math 23 with a 60 something mark. Then in My second grade 12 semester I entered Mr. MacNamee's class. I determined to sit at the front and pay attention...although, it was hard sometimes , as I sat ahead of the class clown (and now famous Tommy Hilfiger model" Paul Greene. He was full of wonderful words, calling the teacher Mr. "Smack-my-knee" and tapping me on the shoulder saying, "Hey, Fire Crotch, can you help me with this question?"
I struggled in that class. Mr. MacNamee had tried and true methods of helping most people become math geniuses, grouping up the smart ones with the lesser to help us along in our understandings of the workings of numbers. I remember one day in particular where it was a big exam part way through the semester, and I turned to the 3rd page and my mind went blank. No longer did math equations sit before me, but a page of what seemed to be computer wing-dings that I didn't understand...my mind couldn't compute the figures set before me. I cried and sat there staring for what seemed to be hours. The teacher walked the aisles to see how we were progressing, some people had already handed in their exams. and he stooped near me. he crouched down in front of my desk and looked at me. My face red from my upset. he told me to take my time...but the class was almost over. I told him that I didn't know any of this, that it wasn't coming to mind. He knew how much I fought with it and attempted to encourage my thoughts with triggers to remember in hopes of speeding me along...without actually telling me how to do it.
I have no recollection of how that exam came out in the end..but I will always remember that day and the time he took for me in those 8 minutes of a rescue mission to bring me to success. I do know that I passed that semester with an 89%. Even though I struggled so hard that day...his words were apples of gold placed there on my desk.
Discovering that old text book takes me back to that day of Mr. MacNamee's class, and thoughts of how, in a sense I have discovered yet another old textbook of sorts...in re-discovering Mr.MacNamee online...
In my endeavors to write, he is there again, set before me with baskets of apples wrapped in gold, encouraging my writing with his words.
I'm no professional, I did not pay attention to the rules of writing back in school....but they still hold great importance to me and others. Words that come from the abundance of the heart reach farther than any grammatical technicalities ...to some people it's all slang anyway.
I appreciate your words, Graham.
You are a textbook to behold.
As children we supposedly would bring apples to the teacher....but in reality you have brought them to your students.
"A word aptly spoken is like apples of Gold in settings of silver." Proverbs 25:11 (Bible)
"A word aptly spoken is like apples of Gold in settings of silver." Proverbs 25:11 (Bible)
