One of my responsibilities as the 9th grade teacher in Pacific Grove, California back in 1959 and 1960 was to introduce the students to the library. The school had a large library overseen by Miss Whitehead. I wanted to encourage the students to see the library as a mine where, with sufficient exploring, you could find gems, but you had to know how and where to look. That was what I was supposed to teach them.
As we walked around the room I spotted a white leather bound edition of the complete works of George Bernard Shaw on the lowest shelf. I reached down and picked up the copy of Man and Superman. “Wow,” I quietly exclaimed. “I don’t think Miss Whitehead is aware that this is down here. Look, no one has checked this book out of the library for a long time.” And then I blew a lot of dust off the top of the book. I opened to Chapter III and quietly but with a sense of doing something illicit, I read the first lines of Don Juan in Hell.
THE OLD WOMAN Excuse me; but I am so lonely; and this place is so awful.
DON JUAN A new comer?
THE OLD WOMAN Yes: I suppose I died this morning. I confessed; I had extreme unction; I was in bed with my family about me and my eyes fixed on the cross. Then it grew dark; and when the light came back it was this light by which I walk seeing nothing. I have wandered for hours in horrible loneliness.
DON JUAN [sighing] Ah! you have not yet lost the sense of time. One soon does, in eternity.
THE OLD WOMAN Where are we?
DON JUAN In hell.
THE OLD WOMAN [proudly] Hell! I in hell! How dare you?
DON JUAN [unimpressed] Why not, senora!
THE OLD WOMAN You do not know to whom you are speaking. I am a lady, and a faithful daughter of the Church.
DON JUAN I do not doubt it.
THE OLD WOMAN But how then can I be in hell? Purgatory, perhaps: I have not been perfect: who has? But hell! oh, you are lying.
DON JUAN Hell, senora, I assure you; hell at its best: that is, its most solitary - though perhaps you would prefer company.
THE OLD WOMAN But I have sincerely repented; I have confessed-
DON JUAN How much?
THE OLD WOMAN More sins than I really committed. I loved confession.
DON JUAN Ah, that is perhaps as bad as confessing too little. At all events, senora, whether by oversight or intention, you are certainly damned, like myself; and there is nothing for it now but to make the best of it.
THE OLD WOMAN [indignantly] Oh! and I might have been so much wickeder! All my good deeds wasted! It is unjust.
Acting out a little scene I glanced around to make sure Miss Whitehead had not seen what I was doing with the students and said to them quietly in the manner of a conspirator, “There are real gems to be found in Shaw. But be careful,” I added, “there are folks who do not think Shaw is proper for young people to read.”
The next day Miss Whitehead said to me “George, you really turned those kids on to Shaw. Every copy of his books that we have in this library were checked out yesterday by your students.”
I wonder how many of them still remember those first lines of Don Juan in Hell?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
My Cabin in the Woods
---
In about 1973 I responded to an ad in the local paper advertising cedar fence posts. When I got to the farmer who was selling a stack of used fence posts I noticed an old log cabin that was almost completely covered with blackberry vines. I asked him how much he wanted for the cabin. He glanced at it and then at me and responded “Someone once offered me two hundred dollars for it but he never came back. If you want to pay that much you can have it.” I immediately wrote him a check for $200.
The cabin was built by an Icelander settler in about 1864 out of old growth hand split cedar logs. It is about 16 ft by 20ft and has but one room with a door on the front and a window on each side. It had no fireplace. The octogenarian who sold it to me said that it was on the land when he purchased the property and he lived in it with five children until he built the farm house that he was then living in. Soon, though, he would be moving to town as his land was purchased by a large oil company to become part of a parcel of land for a refinery. Accordingly, he was selling everything he could as all structures would be razed and the land totally cleared.
I cut back the brambles and stripped the cabin interior and exterior down to the original logs. I removed the rotted shake roof and removed the roof timbers. Then I numbered each of the logs and took many photos of the structure. I removed the caulking which was mainly clay although at times I would find cloth stuffed between the logs. I removed the window and door frames which had been modernized, probably in the 1920s. For the most part the logs were devoid of rot and were in solid condition. With help I then lifted down the logs, one by one. They were ‘dove tailed’ and the cabin walls were built with no nails, the dove-tail character of the log ends held the building together.
Once on the ground I now had the problem of getting the logs home. We had a 1970 VW bus which was used (abused) to achieve that goal. At the end of the task of getting all the logs to my home the back seat of the VW bus had a distinct sway to it and the roof rack also had a curve to it. I could not carry too many logs at a time so it took many trips to move them to Bellingham from Ferndale, a round trip of about 30 miles. I had a pile of old timbers from a railroad trestle that had been demolished not too far away from our home which I used to construct a foundation for the cabin which raised it about 20 inches off the ground. I found some salvaged 12 inch by 12 inch old oak or maple timbers that I used for framing the floor. Then I reconstructed the cabin on that base.
An old retail lumber company went out of business in town and there I found several very old windows that fit in the spaces in the cabin walls for the original windows. Originally I covered the roof timbers and framework with hand split cedar shake but the wet weather we have here in the Pacific Northwest combined with the fact that the cabin was in the woods and was in the shade most of the time caused the shake to be covered with moss and soon rotted. Eventually we replaced the shake with a metal roof that is now faded so it blends with the wooded environment.
Rather than use clay as caulking material I used cement. I hammered in lots of small nails near the space between the logs and then plastered the space between the logs with cement which, when dry, was held in place by the nails which were totally covered by the cement. This has held up well for over 30 years. I ran an underground electrical cable to the cabin from the house which is about 50 ft. away and brought it up into the cabin from beneath so it is not visible from the outside. Then I framed the inside of the cabin with two-by-fours and filled the spaces between with heavy insulation. The ceiling was framed for a drop ceiling and florescent lights were installed. An electric wall heater was built into one wall. I covered the walls with beautiful straight-grain 2 x 6 boards placed horizontally that I got as salvage material from a local manufacturing plant that made cross-ties for power poles. They were varnished rather than painted so as to keep some of the aesthetic of an old wooden structure. The floor was fully carpeted with a dark green tightly woven carpet. I characterize the job as having built a silk purse inside a sow’s ear.
The structure served as my wife’s weaving studio and has a bed in there for guests who are willing to ‘rough it.’ Grandchildren of the man from whom we purchased the cabin come from time to time to get their pictures taken in front of the old family home. I do not pretend that it is an original pioneer log cabin but rather characterize it as a cabin constructed with elements from an older cabin built by early settlers in this area. The original structure cost me $200 but I figured that I had spent about $2,000 reconstructing it on our property. I am sure it is worth much more than that now. Regardless of its putative market value we enjoy having it on the property as one of our ‘out buildings.’
In about 1973 I responded to an ad in the local paper advertising cedar fence posts. When I got to the farmer who was selling a stack of used fence posts I noticed an old log cabin that was almost completely covered with blackberry vines. I asked him how much he wanted for the cabin. He glanced at it and then at me and responded “Someone once offered me two hundred dollars for it but he never came back. If you want to pay that much you can have it.” I immediately wrote him a check for $200.
The cabin was built by an Icelander settler in about 1864 out of old growth hand split cedar logs. It is about 16 ft by 20ft and has but one room with a door on the front and a window on each side. It had no fireplace. The octogenarian who sold it to me said that it was on the land when he purchased the property and he lived in it with five children until he built the farm house that he was then living in. Soon, though, he would be moving to town as his land was purchased by a large oil company to become part of a parcel of land for a refinery. Accordingly, he was selling everything he could as all structures would be razed and the land totally cleared.
I cut back the brambles and stripped the cabin interior and exterior down to the original logs. I removed the rotted shake roof and removed the roof timbers. Then I numbered each of the logs and took many photos of the structure. I removed the caulking which was mainly clay although at times I would find cloth stuffed between the logs. I removed the window and door frames which had been modernized, probably in the 1920s. For the most part the logs were devoid of rot and were in solid condition. With help I then lifted down the logs, one by one. They were ‘dove tailed’ and the cabin walls were built with no nails, the dove-tail character of the log ends held the building together.
Once on the ground I now had the problem of getting the logs home. We had a 1970 VW bus which was used (abused) to achieve that goal. At the end of the task of getting all the logs to my home the back seat of the VW bus had a distinct sway to it and the roof rack also had a curve to it. I could not carry too many logs at a time so it took many trips to move them to Bellingham from Ferndale, a round trip of about 30 miles. I had a pile of old timbers from a railroad trestle that had been demolished not too far away from our home which I used to construct a foundation for the cabin which raised it about 20 inches off the ground. I found some salvaged 12 inch by 12 inch old oak or maple timbers that I used for framing the floor. Then I reconstructed the cabin on that base.
An old retail lumber company went out of business in town and there I found several very old windows that fit in the spaces in the cabin walls for the original windows. Originally I covered the roof timbers and framework with hand split cedar shake but the wet weather we have here in the Pacific Northwest combined with the fact that the cabin was in the woods and was in the shade most of the time caused the shake to be covered with moss and soon rotted. Eventually we replaced the shake with a metal roof that is now faded so it blends with the wooded environment.
Rather than use clay as caulking material I used cement. I hammered in lots of small nails near the space between the logs and then plastered the space between the logs with cement which, when dry, was held in place by the nails which were totally covered by the cement. This has held up well for over 30 years. I ran an underground electrical cable to the cabin from the house which is about 50 ft. away and brought it up into the cabin from beneath so it is not visible from the outside. Then I framed the inside of the cabin with two-by-fours and filled the spaces between with heavy insulation. The ceiling was framed for a drop ceiling and florescent lights were installed. An electric wall heater was built into one wall. I covered the walls with beautiful straight-grain 2 x 6 boards placed horizontally that I got as salvage material from a local manufacturing plant that made cross-ties for power poles. They were varnished rather than painted so as to keep some of the aesthetic of an old wooden structure. The floor was fully carpeted with a dark green tightly woven carpet. I characterize the job as having built a silk purse inside a sow’s ear.
The structure served as my wife’s weaving studio and has a bed in there for guests who are willing to ‘rough it.’ Grandchildren of the man from whom we purchased the cabin come from time to time to get their pictures taken in front of the old family home. I do not pretend that it is an original pioneer log cabin but rather characterize it as a cabin constructed with elements from an older cabin built by early settlers in this area. The original structure cost me $200 but I figured that I had spent about $2,000 reconstructing it on our property. I am sure it is worth much more than that now. Regardless of its putative market value we enjoy having it on the property as one of our ‘out buildings.’
Saturday, September 6, 2008
I Am Not A Sinner
---
My Polish grandmother used to say when the weather was lovely "It is a sin not to be outdoors on a day like this."
Well Thursday was a magnificent day and not wishing to be sinners Mary Ann called David, our son, and together we went to the end of the road at Mt. Baker, to "Artist Point." It takes takes less than one hour to go by car from our house to the parking lot at Artist Point. Since Mary Ann broke her neck two years ago she has not been able to walk the distance to the end of the path from the parking lot but David and I did. Here is a photo of me at the end of the path with Mt. Shuksan in the background. I am facing west, toward Mt. Baker.
We moved to Bellingham over 40 years ago and have loved it for the opportunities for outdoor living. In the early days we would go hiking and camping with our two sons. We climbed to the tops of various ridges and vista points all through the North Cascades but we never attempted to climb Mt. Baker or Shuksan. We knew which trails opened first as they had more sun and the snow would melt soonest. Some of our favorite hikes would be in the high alpine meadows but often they would not be open for hiking until late August or early September and if we had an early snow before we got up there we would not do that hike in that year. We got books on the
wild flowers of the Pacific Northwest and taught our sons to identify them. David really took to hiking and loved it but Todd would rather be on pavement than on the trail in the forest. As we get older we have to give up some of our favorite hikes but the roads here take us up into the mountains which allows us to drive to where we can get some of the most incredible views imaginable so we still get out but do not do the hiking we so loved years ago. For many years during the summer months we would dedicate one day each week for a hike in the forest and take turns deciding which hike we would take. Each year we would also plan at least one camping trip and one visit to Mexico, Guatemala or some other destination in a warm climate in the winter.
Just so you don't sell your home and move to Bellngham let me add that not all days in the summer are like this. In the winter months we get weeks on end where we do not see the sun and clear sky. When it rains it drizzles down. Often we think we had a good rain and the weather report says it was a 'trace.' That is one reason we always take off for sunny areas for a week or two in mid-winter. But, when the sun is shining it is a sin not to be outdoors as this is God's country.
gfd
My Polish grandmother used to say when the weather was lovely "It is a sin not to be outdoors on a day like this."
Well Thursday was a magnificent day and not wishing to be sinners Mary Ann called David, our son, and together we went to the end of the road at Mt. Baker, to "Artist Point." It takes takes less than one hour to go by car from our house to the parking lot at Artist Point. Since Mary Ann broke her neck two years ago she has not been able to walk the distance to the end of the path from the parking lot but David and I did. Here is a photo of me at the end of the path with Mt. Shuksan in the background. I am facing west, toward Mt. Baker.
We moved to Bellingham over 40 years ago and have loved it for the opportunities for outdoor living. In the early days we would go hiking and camping with our two sons. We climbed to the tops of various ridges and vista points all through the North Cascades but we never attempted to climb Mt. Baker or Shuksan. We knew which trails opened first as they had more sun and the snow would melt soonest. Some of our favorite hikes would be in the high alpine meadows but often they would not be open for hiking until late August or early September and if we had an early snow before we got up there we would not do that hike in that year. We got books on the
wild flowers of the Pacific Northwest and taught our sons to identify them. David really took to hiking and loved it but Todd would rather be on pavement than on the trail in the forest. As we get older we have to give up some of our favorite hikes but the roads here take us up into the mountains which allows us to drive to where we can get some of the most incredible views imaginable so we still get out but do not do the hiking we so loved years ago. For many years during the summer months we would dedicate one day each week for a hike in the forest and take turns deciding which hike we would take. Each year we would also plan at least one camping trip and one visit to Mexico, Guatemala or some other destination in a warm climate in the winter.
Just so you don't sell your home and move to Bellngham let me add that not all days in the summer are like this. In the winter months we get weeks on end where we do not see the sun and clear sky. When it rains it drizzles down. Often we think we had a good rain and the weather report says it was a 'trace.' That is one reason we always take off for sunny areas for a week or two in mid-winter. But, when the sun is shining it is a sin not to be outdoors as this is God's country.
gfd
The Day is Done
---
I have no idea how poetry got into my life. All I know is that I have appreciated poetry for well over 60 years. I noted in my diary that at Philmont Scout Ranch in 1946 that I recited the poem “The Day is Done” by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow at a campfire ceremony. Without cheating let me see how much of it I still remember. Those of you who want to give this professor a grade can check this against the printed form and send me a correction.
“The day is done and the darkness
Falls on the wings of night
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul can not resist.
A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay
That shall sooth this restless feeling
And banish the thoughts of day.
Read to me not from the grand old masters
Nor from the bards sublime
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.
For like strains of martial music
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor
And tonight I long for rest.
Read to me rather from some humbler poet
Whose songs gushed forth from his heart
As rain from the clouds of summer
Or tears from the eyelids start.
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have the power to quiet
The restless pulse of care
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
So pick up thy treasured volume
And read the poem of thy choice
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And silently steal away.
I remember that a neighbor for whom I did gardening gave me my first book of poetry, a book of the complete works of Henry Wordsworth Longfellow. That must have been back in about 1943 or 1944. I can still recite many others of his poems that I had committed to memory. I used to write the verses of the poems on little cards and as I rode my bike to school I would look at the cards and memorize the verses. When in Korea in the Army back 55 years ago or so I had several books of poetry in my tent. It was interesting for me to note how many officers, when inspecting our tents, singled out my books of poetry for comment. I guess taking a book of poems to war is not normal.
Earlier this year my wife, noting an article in the newspaper said, “Oh, today is Flag Day.” And immediately, without thinking, I responded “Hats off, along the street there comes, a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, a flash of color beneath the sky, hats off, the flag is passing by. Blue and crimson and white it shines, O’er the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off! The colors before us fly, but more than the flag is passing by…” and on and on I went until she said “stop it, I am trying to read.” Oh, well, she has heard them all before.
I often memorize short poems or passages from books that catch my fancy. Once, when attending a class on “French for Doctoral Candidates” which was given from 8 to 9 a.m. daily for four weeks followed by the doctoral language exam, the instructor, an older professor, stood in front of the class and said (in English) “Man is but a reed.” He paused and I thought he was waiting for some one to continue the rest of the statement so I said aloud “the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed. The universe need not arm itself in order to destroy him. A drop of water, a bit of vapor suffices to kill him but if the universe were to crush him man would still be more noble than that which killed him, for he knows that he dies and of this the universe knows nothing.” I was sitting in the center of the front row of the classroom with about 300 students behind and along side me. He said “Young man, see me after class.”
I did so and he inquired how come I knew that quotation from Blaise Pascal. I responded that when I was sitting on mountain tops in Panama and Guatemala working for the Inter-American Geodetic Survey I always took a stack of books with me and on one occasion I took a copy of the Ponse of Pascal. “What else do you know from that work?” he asked. I proceeded to recite half a dozen more fragments such as “Why do you kill me?” “What? Are you not from the other side of the mountain? I shall be a hero. Were you from this side of the mountain I would be a murderer.” Or “a fly lands on the King’s nose. History is changed.” He expressed pleasure that I liked Pascal and told me that I should make certain that I have him as my examiner since there were three proctors for the exam. Well the day of the exam I made sure I was in his room. He came to where I was sitting and randomly opened the book from which I was to translate a section and had me begin my translation. Within ten minutes he came by, took a look at my work and said, “Good job” and proceeded to sign my card as having passed the French language exam. I was the first out of the room. I maintain that I did not pass in French but rather in Pascal, which happens to be a computer language named after this French philosopher, mathematician and scientist.
One day, many years later, I stood in front of my class, looked at the students and began “Man is but a reed…” and at the end of the recitation asked who in the class could recite one or more verses of poetry or phrases from classical literature. No one venture to respond. Then our class ‘redneck’ sheepishly raised his hand. I encouraged him to go on… and he recited verses from contemporary poets. This astonished his class mates as he came across as a guy who raced motorcycles, was a commercial fisherman in Alaska (in season) played loud music and sneered at ‘bleeding heart liberals’. I asked him how come he learned poems and he, to the delight of the class, actually blushed a bit and laughed. He said his mother posted poems on the bathroom wall behind the toilet and lavished praise on the child who first could recite the new poem. He said the boys in the family had a distinct advantage over the girls and always learned to recite the poems before they did. We all laughed.
Once, at a formal dinner hosted by the Governor of Sichuan Province, China for Governor Spellman of Washington State our governor led about 30 of us Washingtonians in singing a number of old standard U.S. folk songs. We would have come off OK if he had limited it to one verse of each song but he insisted on singing three, four or five verses. That often left him singing alone at the end, much to our collective embarrassment. On conclusion he asked the Chinese governor to have the Chinese delegation sing some Chinese songs.
“No,” the Chinese Governor responded. “I will recite to you a 17th century Chinese poem about a fisherman going down the Yangtze River from Chungching to Wuhan. I do not want it translated. I merely want you to listen to the sounds and the cadence of the words and envision the boat going through the gorges, down the rapids, along the quiet stretches of the river and then finally arriving home to family in Wuhan.” He then proceeded to recite at least twenty verses of that classical poem. It was a magnificent tour de force. Wow! I wonder if the current governor of Alaska can do the same? Or the governor of Washington State?
One day I read in the local newspaper that Ethel Boynton Crook was celebrating her 95th birthday. I went to see her in the retirement facility where she was living and shared with her my pleasure at knowing her mother, Sue C. Boynton, who, almost 30 years earlier, at age 95 read one of her poems at the Bi-Centennial ceremony that I had organized which took place in the old city hall. I also told her how I had invited her mother to come to one of my classes on “Community Organizing” to tell how she created the PTA association in Boston back in 1895. When in front of the class, “Mother Boynton” as she was wont to be called, said “I have to admit I lied to Dr. Drake when I said I would love to talk about community organizing in Boston in 1895. But I just had to get out of that nursing home. The people there are lacking in life, lacking in spirit, lacking in joy. I wanted to come here to see young people, people with energy, spirit and joy, so please forgive me if I do not talk about Boston in 1895. I would rather show you some family photographs and recite for you some of my poems.” I assured her she could do whatever she wanted.
For almost an hour she had that class entranced with her stories, which were suggested by the photographs she passed around the room. She recited or read poems she had written in years past, recalling one or another while telling about a photograph or an incident in her life. When the hour was up the class did something no other class had ever done, they gave her a standing ovation! It was a ‘love in.’
I asked Sue Boynton’s daughter, Ethel, if she would join me in creating a county-wide poetry contest in her mother’s name, the “Sue C. Boynton Poetry Contest and Poetry Walk.” The contest would be open to any one who could write, of any age or level of education. The top ten poems would be engraved in plastic and mounted for one year on the “Sue C. Boynton Poetry Walk” and those poems plus the next 15 works, called “Merit Awards” would be printed and displayed in the city buses for the ensuing year. She agreed and with financial help from her family and friends we got the project going.
We formed a committee that had on it several nationally known poets. They, in turn, contacted colleagues to serve as jurors for the contest. The only information the jurors have about the poet is their grade in school if they are in a K-12 class. The first year we had 78 contestants, the second year 125 persons sent in poems and this year we had 275 participants ranging from first graders to an 82 year old grandmother. The awards ceremony brings a large crowd to the rotunda room of the old city hall. After a few more years the project will be ‘institutionalized’ and have a permanent niche in the cultural life of this community. This year a prize winning third-grader ‘brought the house down’ when he read “My mother is having another baby. I hope it is better than the last one.” As you can see, our jurors define poetry fairly widely.
Shortly after the poetry contest was publicly announced in the local media a member of the county historical society visited me and asked if I wanted (free) copies of the book that they had published years ago on the life of Sue C. Boynton since they had quite an overstock of the volume. I naively said we could use all that he had as we would give them as prizes to contest winners. The next week he showed up with almost 1,000 copies of the book. We distributed the book to all senior centers, to all retirement homes and nursing homes, to every school in the county (over 125 of them) and to all libraries. The distribution of the book helps ‘legitimize’ the poetry contest, making it truly a part of the culture and history of this community.
=========== It is now past midnight so I can say, “the day is done and the darkness…..” gfd
I have no idea how poetry got into my life. All I know is that I have appreciated poetry for well over 60 years. I noted in my diary that at Philmont Scout Ranch in 1946 that I recited the poem “The Day is Done” by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow at a campfire ceremony. Without cheating let me see how much of it I still remember. Those of you who want to give this professor a grade can check this against the printed form and send me a correction.
“The day is done and the darkness
Falls on the wings of night
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul can not resist.
A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay
That shall sooth this restless feeling
And banish the thoughts of day.
Read to me not from the grand old masters
Nor from the bards sublime
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.
For like strains of martial music
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor
And tonight I long for rest.
Read to me rather from some humbler poet
Whose songs gushed forth from his heart
As rain from the clouds of summer
Or tears from the eyelids start.
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have the power to quiet
The restless pulse of care
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
So pick up thy treasured volume
And read the poem of thy choice
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And silently steal away.
I remember that a neighbor for whom I did gardening gave me my first book of poetry, a book of the complete works of Henry Wordsworth Longfellow. That must have been back in about 1943 or 1944. I can still recite many others of his poems that I had committed to memory. I used to write the verses of the poems on little cards and as I rode my bike to school I would look at the cards and memorize the verses. When in Korea in the Army back 55 years ago or so I had several books of poetry in my tent. It was interesting for me to note how many officers, when inspecting our tents, singled out my books of poetry for comment. I guess taking a book of poems to war is not normal.
Earlier this year my wife, noting an article in the newspaper said, “Oh, today is Flag Day.” And immediately, without thinking, I responded “Hats off, along the street there comes, a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, a flash of color beneath the sky, hats off, the flag is passing by. Blue and crimson and white it shines, O’er the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off! The colors before us fly, but more than the flag is passing by…” and on and on I went until she said “stop it, I am trying to read.” Oh, well, she has heard them all before.
I often memorize short poems or passages from books that catch my fancy. Once, when attending a class on “French for Doctoral Candidates” which was given from 8 to 9 a.m. daily for four weeks followed by the doctoral language exam, the instructor, an older professor, stood in front of the class and said (in English) “Man is but a reed.” He paused and I thought he was waiting for some one to continue the rest of the statement so I said aloud “the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed. The universe need not arm itself in order to destroy him. A drop of water, a bit of vapor suffices to kill him but if the universe were to crush him man would still be more noble than that which killed him, for he knows that he dies and of this the universe knows nothing.” I was sitting in the center of the front row of the classroom with about 300 students behind and along side me. He said “Young man, see me after class.”
I did so and he inquired how come I knew that quotation from Blaise Pascal. I responded that when I was sitting on mountain tops in Panama and Guatemala working for the Inter-American Geodetic Survey I always took a stack of books with me and on one occasion I took a copy of the Ponse of Pascal. “What else do you know from that work?” he asked. I proceeded to recite half a dozen more fragments such as “Why do you kill me?” “What? Are you not from the other side of the mountain? I shall be a hero. Were you from this side of the mountain I would be a murderer.” Or “a fly lands on the King’s nose. History is changed.” He expressed pleasure that I liked Pascal and told me that I should make certain that I have him as my examiner since there were three proctors for the exam. Well the day of the exam I made sure I was in his room. He came to where I was sitting and randomly opened the book from which I was to translate a section and had me begin my translation. Within ten minutes he came by, took a look at my work and said, “Good job” and proceeded to sign my card as having passed the French language exam. I was the first out of the room. I maintain that I did not pass in French but rather in Pascal, which happens to be a computer language named after this French philosopher, mathematician and scientist.
One day, many years later, I stood in front of my class, looked at the students and began “Man is but a reed…” and at the end of the recitation asked who in the class could recite one or more verses of poetry or phrases from classical literature. No one venture to respond. Then our class ‘redneck’ sheepishly raised his hand. I encouraged him to go on… and he recited verses from contemporary poets. This astonished his class mates as he came across as a guy who raced motorcycles, was a commercial fisherman in Alaska (in season) played loud music and sneered at ‘bleeding heart liberals’. I asked him how come he learned poems and he, to the delight of the class, actually blushed a bit and laughed. He said his mother posted poems on the bathroom wall behind the toilet and lavished praise on the child who first could recite the new poem. He said the boys in the family had a distinct advantage over the girls and always learned to recite the poems before they did. We all laughed.
Once, at a formal dinner hosted by the Governor of Sichuan Province, China for Governor Spellman of Washington State our governor led about 30 of us Washingtonians in singing a number of old standard U.S. folk songs. We would have come off OK if he had limited it to one verse of each song but he insisted on singing three, four or five verses. That often left him singing alone at the end, much to our collective embarrassment. On conclusion he asked the Chinese governor to have the Chinese delegation sing some Chinese songs.
“No,” the Chinese Governor responded. “I will recite to you a 17th century Chinese poem about a fisherman going down the Yangtze River from Chungching to Wuhan. I do not want it translated. I merely want you to listen to the sounds and the cadence of the words and envision the boat going through the gorges, down the rapids, along the quiet stretches of the river and then finally arriving home to family in Wuhan.” He then proceeded to recite at least twenty verses of that classical poem. It was a magnificent tour de force. Wow! I wonder if the current governor of Alaska can do the same? Or the governor of Washington State?
One day I read in the local newspaper that Ethel Boynton Crook was celebrating her 95th birthday. I went to see her in the retirement facility where she was living and shared with her my pleasure at knowing her mother, Sue C. Boynton, who, almost 30 years earlier, at age 95 read one of her poems at the Bi-Centennial ceremony that I had organized which took place in the old city hall. I also told her how I had invited her mother to come to one of my classes on “Community Organizing” to tell how she created the PTA association in Boston back in 1895. When in front of the class, “Mother Boynton” as she was wont to be called, said “I have to admit I lied to Dr. Drake when I said I would love to talk about community organizing in Boston in 1895. But I just had to get out of that nursing home. The people there are lacking in life, lacking in spirit, lacking in joy. I wanted to come here to see young people, people with energy, spirit and joy, so please forgive me if I do not talk about Boston in 1895. I would rather show you some family photographs and recite for you some of my poems.” I assured her she could do whatever she wanted.
For almost an hour she had that class entranced with her stories, which were suggested by the photographs she passed around the room. She recited or read poems she had written in years past, recalling one or another while telling about a photograph or an incident in her life. When the hour was up the class did something no other class had ever done, they gave her a standing ovation! It was a ‘love in.’
I asked Sue Boynton’s daughter, Ethel, if she would join me in creating a county-wide poetry contest in her mother’s name, the “Sue C. Boynton Poetry Contest and Poetry Walk.” The contest would be open to any one who could write, of any age or level of education. The top ten poems would be engraved in plastic and mounted for one year on the “Sue C. Boynton Poetry Walk” and those poems plus the next 15 works, called “Merit Awards” would be printed and displayed in the city buses for the ensuing year. She agreed and with financial help from her family and friends we got the project going.
We formed a committee that had on it several nationally known poets. They, in turn, contacted colleagues to serve as jurors for the contest. The only information the jurors have about the poet is their grade in school if they are in a K-12 class. The first year we had 78 contestants, the second year 125 persons sent in poems and this year we had 275 participants ranging from first graders to an 82 year old grandmother. The awards ceremony brings a large crowd to the rotunda room of the old city hall. After a few more years the project will be ‘institutionalized’ and have a permanent niche in the cultural life of this community. This year a prize winning third-grader ‘brought the house down’ when he read “My mother is having another baby. I hope it is better than the last one.” As you can see, our jurors define poetry fairly widely.
Shortly after the poetry contest was publicly announced in the local media a member of the county historical society visited me and asked if I wanted (free) copies of the book that they had published years ago on the life of Sue C. Boynton since they had quite an overstock of the volume. I naively said we could use all that he had as we would give them as prizes to contest winners. The next week he showed up with almost 1,000 copies of the book. We distributed the book to all senior centers, to all retirement homes and nursing homes, to every school in the county (over 125 of them) and to all libraries. The distribution of the book helps ‘legitimize’ the poetry contest, making it truly a part of the culture and history of this community.
=========== It is now past midnight so I can say, “the day is done and the darkness…..” gfd
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
To: Order of the Arrow, Cowaw Lodge #9
To: Order of the Arrow, Cowaw Lodge #9
One year summary of scouting activities.
14 September 1949
c/o I.A.G.S., Box 2031
Balboa Heights, Canal Zone
Dear Lyle:
Again I write to you, this time from Costa Rica rather than Panama. I came here on Friday with my mother who is visiting me for several weeks from New Jersey. We are spending a week’s vacation here in Costa Rica. As soon as I got here I looked up the scout association again. As you recall, I spent one week with them in March of this year.
There are several reasons for this letter. One, of course, is to say ‘hello’ to you and let you in on what is new in Panama. The other reason is to report to Lodge #9, Order of the Arrow, on my scouting activities since becoming a member of that lodge one year ago. If I were living at home, where I could assist the lodge in their activities, this letter would not be necessary. As it is, you might think, if you didn’t hear from me, that I was a disinterested member.
I am very much interested in the Order of the Arrow so please do not let my name be dropped from the list. I do not know the amount of dues that I owe nor when they are due. I would appreciate it if you would bring me up to date on that information.
I am having an interesting time here in San Jose at present. A Scout Manual has recently been published in Spanish for the Scouts of Costa Rica. The trouble is that it was published without the acceptance of the National Council and included many things that were definitely not acceptable to the Scouting standards of Costa Rica.
I attended a meeting of the National Council and listened in on a debate about allowing an American Boy Scout troop operate in San Jose. I was permitted to say a few words on behalf of the Boy Scouts of America troop.
On the morning following the meeting of the National Council I talked for two hours with Reverend Fish who is organizing American scouting in San Jose. In the afternoon I attended a Costa Rican troop meeting. I then spent two hours discussing scouting methods with several Costa Rican scouters. In the evening I talked scouting for three hours with three scouters of San Jose. I was asked to check on the Costa Rican branch of the order of the Arrow. This International Scouting if very interesting.
I would now like to bring the Lodge members up-to-date as to my scouting activities after one year in the Order of the Arrow. I therefore enclose a summary of my activities since September, 1948.
Yours in Scouting,
George F. Drake
Summary of Scouting Activities of George Drake for one year following the Ordeal of 1948 of Lodge #9, Order of the Arrow.
1. I am registered as an Explorer Scout in Post #31 of Spring Lake, N.J. Until December, 1948 I was Post Guide. I have attended no meetings since December, 1948.
2. I am a Life Scout and a Woodsman Explorer. I have passed no scout requirements of any kind since December, 1948.
3. I have done the following hiking and camping with scouts since becoming a member of the Order of the Arrow:
a. Went on a 3-day exploration hike with Mexican Rover Scouts spending 30 hours underground in a cave in Taxco State, Mexico.
b. Went on a 2-day hike with full pack with Mexican Scouts from Xochomilco to Cuernavaca, following a straight line over the mountains, about 45 miles.
c. Participated in a 1-day hike up Popocatepetl, a snow-capped volcano near Mexico City with Rover Scouts. Four out of 13 made it to the top. I was one of the four.
d. Went on a two-day camping trip with scouts of Guatemala.
e. Went on a one-day hike with Guatemalan scouts.
f. Joined Scouts of El Salvador on a one-day horseback ride.
g. Went on a one-day mountain climbing trip with Scouts of Costa Rica to the top of Poas Volcano.
h. Went on a 3-1/2 month trip, by all means of transportation, through Central America to the Canal Zone. The uniform of the Explorer Scouts of the Boy Scouts of America was worn at all times.
4. I visited the following local council offices of the B.S.A.:
a. Raritan, NJ
b. Monmouth, NJ
c. Norfolk, VA
d. Orlando, FL
e. West Palm Beach, FL
f. Miami, FL
g. Pensacola, FL
h. Mobile, Alabama
i. New Orleans, Louisiana
j. Balboa, Canal Zone
5. I visited the following National Offices of Scouting
a. New York City, B.S.A.
b. Mexico City, Mexico. Association of Scouts of Mexico
c. Guatemala City, Guatemala. Scout Association of Guatemala
d. San Salvador, El Salvador. Exploradores de Salvador
e. Managua, Nicaragua. Scouts de Nicaragua
f. San Jose, Costa Rica. Cuerpo Nacional de Scouts de Costa Rica.
g. Panama City, Panama. The newly organized Scouts de Panama.
6. I have met and discussed scouting with the following leaders of scouting in these countries: a. U.S.A.: Mr. McKinney, Mr. H. Patton, Mr. G. Cronie, Mr. R. Mozo and others in the National Office, BSA.
b. Mexico: Mr. Juan Llane, President of the Scouts of Mexico, as well as with the National Commissioner of Cub Scouts of Mexico and leaders in Rover Scouting in Mexico.
c. Guatemala: Mr. Deutchman, President of the Scout Association of Guatemala, also with Armando Galvez, Sr. Armado and other national leaders.
d. El Salvador: Padre Juan Garcia Artola.
e. Nicaragua: The association President, National Commissioners of Scouting, Cubing and Rovers and others.
f. Costa Rica: The President of the association and all national officers.
g. Panama: The President of the Scouts of Panama.
7. I have sent American scouting literature to scouts in the following countries: Mexico, Canada, Australia, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Venezuela, England, Chile, Germany, Austria, Greece
8. I correspond with scouts in the following countries: United states, Canada, Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Chile, Scotland, England, Finland, Sweden, Australia, New Guinea, South Africa, Indonesia, Burma, Pakistan, Hindustan, China, Greece, Belgium, Austria, Germany
9. I have had articles published in the following Scouting magazines:
a. Lone Scout, BSA
b. The Scout, England
c. Escultismo, Mexico
d. Xxx , Indonesia
e. Xxx, Nicaragua
September 14, 1949
One year summary of scouting activities.
14 September 1949
c/o I.A.G.S., Box 2031
Balboa Heights, Canal Zone
Dear Lyle:
Again I write to you, this time from Costa Rica rather than Panama. I came here on Friday with my mother who is visiting me for several weeks from New Jersey. We are spending a week’s vacation here in Costa Rica. As soon as I got here I looked up the scout association again. As you recall, I spent one week with them in March of this year.
There are several reasons for this letter. One, of course, is to say ‘hello’ to you and let you in on what is new in Panama. The other reason is to report to Lodge #9, Order of the Arrow, on my scouting activities since becoming a member of that lodge one year ago. If I were living at home, where I could assist the lodge in their activities, this letter would not be necessary. As it is, you might think, if you didn’t hear from me, that I was a disinterested member.
I am very much interested in the Order of the Arrow so please do not let my name be dropped from the list. I do not know the amount of dues that I owe nor when they are due. I would appreciate it if you would bring me up to date on that information.
I am having an interesting time here in San Jose at present. A Scout Manual has recently been published in Spanish for the Scouts of Costa Rica. The trouble is that it was published without the acceptance of the National Council and included many things that were definitely not acceptable to the Scouting standards of Costa Rica.
I attended a meeting of the National Council and listened in on a debate about allowing an American Boy Scout troop operate in San Jose. I was permitted to say a few words on behalf of the Boy Scouts of America troop.
On the morning following the meeting of the National Council I talked for two hours with Reverend Fish who is organizing American scouting in San Jose. In the afternoon I attended a Costa Rican troop meeting. I then spent two hours discussing scouting methods with several Costa Rican scouters. In the evening I talked scouting for three hours with three scouters of San Jose. I was asked to check on the Costa Rican branch of the order of the Arrow. This International Scouting if very interesting.
I would now like to bring the Lodge members up-to-date as to my scouting activities after one year in the Order of the Arrow. I therefore enclose a summary of my activities since September, 1948.
Yours in Scouting,
George F. Drake
Summary of Scouting Activities of George Drake for one year following the Ordeal of 1948 of Lodge #9, Order of the Arrow.
1. I am registered as an Explorer Scout in Post #31 of Spring Lake, N.J. Until December, 1948 I was Post Guide. I have attended no meetings since December, 1948.
2. I am a Life Scout and a Woodsman Explorer. I have passed no scout requirements of any kind since December, 1948.
3. I have done the following hiking and camping with scouts since becoming a member of the Order of the Arrow:
a. Went on a 3-day exploration hike with Mexican Rover Scouts spending 30 hours underground in a cave in Taxco State, Mexico.
b. Went on a 2-day hike with full pack with Mexican Scouts from Xochomilco to Cuernavaca, following a straight line over the mountains, about 45 miles.
c. Participated in a 1-day hike up Popocatepetl, a snow-capped volcano near Mexico City with Rover Scouts. Four out of 13 made it to the top. I was one of the four.
d. Went on a two-day camping trip with scouts of Guatemala.
e. Went on a one-day hike with Guatemalan scouts.
f. Joined Scouts of El Salvador on a one-day horseback ride.
g. Went on a one-day mountain climbing trip with Scouts of Costa Rica to the top of Poas Volcano.
h. Went on a 3-1/2 month trip, by all means of transportation, through Central America to the Canal Zone. The uniform of the Explorer Scouts of the Boy Scouts of America was worn at all times.
4. I visited the following local council offices of the B.S.A.:
a. Raritan, NJ
b. Monmouth, NJ
c. Norfolk, VA
d. Orlando, FL
e. West Palm Beach, FL
f. Miami, FL
g. Pensacola, FL
h. Mobile, Alabama
i. New Orleans, Louisiana
j. Balboa, Canal Zone
5. I visited the following National Offices of Scouting
a. New York City, B.S.A.
b. Mexico City, Mexico. Association of Scouts of Mexico
c. Guatemala City, Guatemala. Scout Association of Guatemala
d. San Salvador, El Salvador. Exploradores de Salvador
e. Managua, Nicaragua. Scouts de Nicaragua
f. San Jose, Costa Rica. Cuerpo Nacional de Scouts de Costa Rica.
g. Panama City, Panama. The newly organized Scouts de Panama.
6. I have met and discussed scouting with the following leaders of scouting in these countries: a. U.S.A.: Mr. McKinney, Mr. H. Patton, Mr. G. Cronie, Mr. R. Mozo and others in the National Office, BSA.
b. Mexico: Mr. Juan Llane, President of the Scouts of Mexico, as well as with the National Commissioner of Cub Scouts of Mexico and leaders in Rover Scouting in Mexico.
c. Guatemala: Mr. Deutchman, President of the Scout Association of Guatemala, also with Armando Galvez, Sr. Armado and other national leaders.
d. El Salvador: Padre Juan Garcia Artola.
e. Nicaragua: The association President, National Commissioners of Scouting, Cubing and Rovers and others.
f. Costa Rica: The President of the association and all national officers.
g. Panama: The President of the Scouts of Panama.
7. I have sent American scouting literature to scouts in the following countries: Mexico, Canada, Australia, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Venezuela, England, Chile, Germany, Austria, Greece
8. I correspond with scouts in the following countries: United states, Canada, Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Chile, Scotland, England, Finland, Sweden, Australia, New Guinea, South Africa, Indonesia, Burma, Pakistan, Hindustan, China, Greece, Belgium, Austria, Germany
9. I have had articles published in the following Scouting magazines:
a. Lone Scout, BSA
b. The Scout, England
c. Escultismo, Mexico
d. Xxx , Indonesia
e. Xxx, Nicaragua
September 14, 1949
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Community Volunteer Programs
In the early 1970s when I was Director of the University Year for Action program at Western Washington University a student volunteer, Chris Avalon, told me about funds available for a program getting seniors involved in community volunteer activities. I called the national office of the Retired Senior Volunteer Program and got the forms for applying for an RSVP grant. I proceeded to write the grant proposal that got the program started in Bellingham.
I designed a program that would get the seniors involved in speech therapy along with the student UYA volunteers in public school speech therapy programs. This would be only one of many ways we would get seniors involved in community service activities but it was to be the focus of the new organization. Soon after the grant was submitted to the ACTION office in Washington, DC I was called back there for a meeting of UYA program directors. It just happened that there was a joint meeting of the Boards of Directors of the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) and RTA (Retired Teachers Association) being held in the same hotel where I was staying. These two organizations were among the largest voluntary associations in America at the time. The time and location of the reception was noted on the hotel bulletin board, and not being shy, I decided to crash the reception.
At the reception I was enthusiastically talking about the RSVP-UYA program for putting seniors and college students in the classroom to help kids needing speech therapy when the person I was talking to said “I would like to invite you to join us for dinner.” I responded, “Don’t you need permission of someone to invite me to join you?” “No,” he said, “I am the President of AARP and you will be my guest.” [How’s that for crashing a party?]
During dinner he introduced me to the assembled dinner guests and said “Dr. Drake, why don’t you take three minutes and tell us about your program ideas for Bellingham.” At the end of my comments he turned to a man seated next to him and stated “This is the kind of program we want to see funded.” That person happened to be the Director of all Senior Programs for ACTION at the national level. After dinner he asked that I call on him the next day, which I did. Our program was funded, of course.
When I ran for a seat on the Bellingham City Council a year later I used the slogan “The greatest untapped resource of the community is the talent and good will of its citizens”. Once on the council I created the Civic Partnership program for placing citizens in volunteer positions with city agencies such as the Park Department, Library, Police Dept., etc. That program was funded with money from the city budget. Later it was expanded to include county programs and was combined with a new struggling Voluntary Action Agency to become a single organization. I helped get on-going city funding to help pay for staff. About a decade later it joined the RSVP in a single office.
Today, some 35 years since its founding, the local RSVP program has over 4,300 registered volunteers who, in 2007, volunteered over 100,000 hours of community service. The Whatcom Voluntary Action Agency had over 1,200 volunteers last year donate more than 280,000 hours of community service. I think we can say that these two agencies that I helped create many years ago are an outstanding credit to our community.
I feel that my impetus for the creation of this type of program came out of my experiences with the scrap paper drives and the drives for aluminum pots and pans and other metals held by Troop 59 of Manasquan, New Jersey that I participated in during the years of the Second World War and following. This was the Boy Scout oath and law in action. It is community resource mobilizing at its finest. It is taking Boy Scout values into the wider community giving all citizens a structured way to help their fellow citizens.
One thing has to be noted though, and that is the self realization that my talent lies in dreaming up these organizations, designing their structure, getting the funding and giving them a kick-start and then getting out of the way. I am not an administrator. I am the guy that has the vision and who happens to have some expertise. in community sociology, knows something about community systems analysis, etc. and can put these things together. But I also have the sense to leave them alone once they get started. I also quickly get bored doing the same thing time and again. I want to create new programs, take on new projects and have new adventures. It seems that my attention span is between two and four years, then I quit my job, my "temporary" assignment, my current activity and head off in a new direction. During my 23 years at Western Washington University I served as a classroom teacher, Director of the Center for East Asian Studies, Director of the University Year for Action Program, Special Assistant to the President, Founding Director of the China Teaching Program (for training professionals to teach English as a second language to co-professionals in the PRC). I ended my career at Western Washington University as Director of International Programs.
I designed a program that would get the seniors involved in speech therapy along with the student UYA volunteers in public school speech therapy programs. This would be only one of many ways we would get seniors involved in community service activities but it was to be the focus of the new organization. Soon after the grant was submitted to the ACTION office in Washington, DC I was called back there for a meeting of UYA program directors. It just happened that there was a joint meeting of the Boards of Directors of the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) and RTA (Retired Teachers Association) being held in the same hotel where I was staying. These two organizations were among the largest voluntary associations in America at the time. The time and location of the reception was noted on the hotel bulletin board, and not being shy, I decided to crash the reception.
At the reception I was enthusiastically talking about the RSVP-UYA program for putting seniors and college students in the classroom to help kids needing speech therapy when the person I was talking to said “I would like to invite you to join us for dinner.” I responded, “Don’t you need permission of someone to invite me to join you?” “No,” he said, “I am the President of AARP and you will be my guest.” [How’s that for crashing a party?]
During dinner he introduced me to the assembled dinner guests and said “Dr. Drake, why don’t you take three minutes and tell us about your program ideas for Bellingham.” At the end of my comments he turned to a man seated next to him and stated “This is the kind of program we want to see funded.” That person happened to be the Director of all Senior Programs for ACTION at the national level. After dinner he asked that I call on him the next day, which I did. Our program was funded, of course.
When I ran for a seat on the Bellingham City Council a year later I used the slogan “The greatest untapped resource of the community is the talent and good will of its citizens”. Once on the council I created the Civic Partnership program for placing citizens in volunteer positions with city agencies such as the Park Department, Library, Police Dept., etc. That program was funded with money from the city budget. Later it was expanded to include county programs and was combined with a new struggling Voluntary Action Agency to become a single organization. I helped get on-going city funding to help pay for staff. About a decade later it joined the RSVP in a single office.
Today, some 35 years since its founding, the local RSVP program has over 4,300 registered volunteers who, in 2007, volunteered over 100,000 hours of community service. The Whatcom Voluntary Action Agency had over 1,200 volunteers last year donate more than 280,000 hours of community service. I think we can say that these two agencies that I helped create many years ago are an outstanding credit to our community.
I feel that my impetus for the creation of this type of program came out of my experiences with the scrap paper drives and the drives for aluminum pots and pans and other metals held by Troop 59 of Manasquan, New Jersey that I participated in during the years of the Second World War and following. This was the Boy Scout oath and law in action. It is community resource mobilizing at its finest. It is taking Boy Scout values into the wider community giving all citizens a structured way to help their fellow citizens.
One thing has to be noted though, and that is the self realization that my talent lies in dreaming up these organizations, designing their structure, getting the funding and giving them a kick-start and then getting out of the way. I am not an administrator. I am the guy that has the vision and who happens to have some expertise. in community sociology, knows something about community systems analysis, etc. and can put these things together. But I also have the sense to leave them alone once they get started. I also quickly get bored doing the same thing time and again. I want to create new programs, take on new projects and have new adventures. It seems that my attention span is between two and four years, then I quit my job, my "temporary" assignment, my current activity and head off in a new direction. During my 23 years at Western Washington University I served as a classroom teacher, Director of the Center for East Asian Studies, Director of the University Year for Action Program, Special Assistant to the President, Founding Director of the China Teaching Program (for training professionals to teach English as a second language to co-professionals in the PRC). I ended my career at Western Washington University as Director of International Programs.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Senator Goldwater... I would like to introduce Charlotte Godfriedson of the Colville Tribe
---
I was in Washington, DC, attending a meeting of Directors of University Year for Action programs. We had been asked to bring two or three students with us so they could talk to the press about their experiences in the program. One of the students I took was a young Native American woman, member of the Colville Tribe, named Charlotte Godfriedson. We were in the hotel lobby waiting for someone to meet us when Charlotte came running to me saying "George, Senator Goldwater is in the barber shop! He is one of my heros. Oh, how I would love to meet him." "Come on," I said, "show me where he is." We went down the hall to the barber shop and yup, that was him all right. "Come with me" I said to Charlotte as I entered the barber shop. "Senator Goldwater" I said and paused. "Yes," he responded. "Senator I would like to introduce to you Charlotte Godfriedson, a young member of the Colville Tribe in Washington State who thinks you are the greatest Senator ever." "What a pleasure to meet you," said the Senator as he held out his hand to a startled Charlette. After an exchange of a few pleasantries we left and once in the hall Charlotte asked how I came to know the senator. I responded that I had never met him before but that I did not have to know him to make an introduction.
She found this hilarious but when I told her how I learned this 'trick' she laughed even more. Back when I was working with the Inter-American Geodetic Survey in Panama I was attending a local fiesta in a small town and was in a bar with a fellow named Guillermo. I was standing with my back to the bar surveying the crowd and Guillermo was on my right talking to the bar tender. Up comes a lovely young senorita to my left and orders a drink. I give Guillermo a light poke and point to my left. His eyes light up and he runs around me and says "Senorita, may I introduce my good friend George Drake?" And she responds as we shake hands, "Mucho gusto, soy Maria Sanchez." We chatter a bit when Guillermo gives me a hefty kick and whispers "Now you introduce me, you pig!" Now that I have her name I introduce the two of them to each other. Oh, well, I learned fast.
I guess I had always been a bit forward, though. I recall being in Princeton, New Jersey, one Saturday when I was about 15 or 16 years old with a crew that was conducting an inventory at a hardware store. The gang of us, all employees of the same chain of hardware stores, moved all over the state doing that on Saturdays. After my lunch I went for a brief stroll when I noted coming toward me a person who could only be Albert Einstein. "Good Morning, Dr. Einstein," I said as we came close to each other. "Good Morning young man" said Dr. Einstein as he passed. So now I can tell folks that I once met Dr. Einstein and exchanged pleasantries with him. Name dropper!
I was in Washington, DC, attending a meeting of Directors of University Year for Action programs. We had been asked to bring two or three students with us so they could talk to the press about their experiences in the program. One of the students I took was a young Native American woman, member of the Colville Tribe, named Charlotte Godfriedson. We were in the hotel lobby waiting for someone to meet us when Charlotte came running to me saying "George, Senator Goldwater is in the barber shop! He is one of my heros. Oh, how I would love to meet him." "Come on," I said, "show me where he is." We went down the hall to the barber shop and yup, that was him all right. "Come with me" I said to Charlotte as I entered the barber shop. "Senator Goldwater" I said and paused. "Yes," he responded. "Senator I would like to introduce to you Charlotte Godfriedson, a young member of the Colville Tribe in Washington State who thinks you are the greatest Senator ever." "What a pleasure to meet you," said the Senator as he held out his hand to a startled Charlette. After an exchange of a few pleasantries we left and once in the hall Charlotte asked how I came to know the senator. I responded that I had never met him before but that I did not have to know him to make an introduction.
She found this hilarious but when I told her how I learned this 'trick' she laughed even more. Back when I was working with the Inter-American Geodetic Survey in Panama I was attending a local fiesta in a small town and was in a bar with a fellow named Guillermo. I was standing with my back to the bar surveying the crowd and Guillermo was on my right talking to the bar tender. Up comes a lovely young senorita to my left and orders a drink. I give Guillermo a light poke and point to my left. His eyes light up and he runs around me and says "Senorita, may I introduce my good friend George Drake?" And she responds as we shake hands, "Mucho gusto, soy Maria Sanchez." We chatter a bit when Guillermo gives me a hefty kick and whispers "Now you introduce me, you pig!" Now that I have her name I introduce the two of them to each other. Oh, well, I learned fast.
I guess I had always been a bit forward, though. I recall being in Princeton, New Jersey, one Saturday when I was about 15 or 16 years old with a crew that was conducting an inventory at a hardware store. The gang of us, all employees of the same chain of hardware stores, moved all over the state doing that on Saturdays. After my lunch I went for a brief stroll when I noted coming toward me a person who could only be Albert Einstein. "Good Morning, Dr. Einstein," I said as we came close to each other. "Good Morning young man" said Dr. Einstein as he passed. So now I can tell folks that I once met Dr. Einstein and exchanged pleasantries with him. Name dropper!
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