Friends are people who usually have mutual interests or mutual problems or similar needs and issues. We often spend a great deal of time with folks that we call 'friend', attending to many of those mutual interests or problems or needs or issues.
I knew a fellow in junior high school. We were not really friends, that is, we did not share many mutual friends, we did not live close by one another, we were not on the same academic or social level. The only thing that we shared in common was baseball. We played on the same school team from 8th grade through high school. He was not a great athlete but was good enough to play a lot and often was a starter. I, on the other hand, was always a back-up and never a starter.
His name was Mike and he was always very friendly to me. He was always inclusive when I was around him and his more popular friends. He never left me out.
Upon graduation from high school, Mike attended the University of Washington. He began a military career that has been his life since he left high school. He has commanded large numbers of soldiers in and out of combat. He has been named to organize extremely important secret military operations in two major military campaigns. He has worked on the battlefield, on military bases and he has even worked at the White House with Presidents.
I was given a College Deferment and was made exempt from military service. I attended college and took up a career in music education and performance. It very rarely ever occurred to me that there were people that were keeping our country safe and free. My life was never in danger (that I know of!!)and I have never really and honestly rescued someone in real distress.
Mike, on the other hand, rose to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. He worked in Special-Ops. He led huge groups of men in battle. He is now the National Executive Director of Young Marines. He works as a CEO-type of military man, traveling all over the country presenting awards and giving speeches to young kids who are involved in chapters of ROTC-type groups.
At my 40th high school reunion, two years ago, I had the chance to visit with Mike. I was reminded how popular he had been in school: starting center on the football team, a guard on the basketball team and an outfielder on the baseball team; he sang in the choir and he earned an ROTC scholarship to UW. He was a fine student. But again, he included me as if we had been very close friends. When we parted the night of the reunion, Mike told me to 'keep in touch' and that if I needed anything, to call him. Of course, what was he going to do?? He lives in Falls Church, Virginia!!
But I took him at his word. I emailed him last December to ask if he would be willing to fly out to the West Coast to represent the United States Marine Corps in a concert I was producing. I explained that there would be no money to pay for his flight; no money to pay for lodging or any other expenses. And his part in the concert was going to be completed in about forty minutes. I knew he would not do it, but it gave me a chance to 'keep in touch' and it gave us something to talk about.
He told me, "I would be proud to come out and represent the Marine Corps and even prouder to participate in an endeavor such as this for you." He told me not to worry about the expenses, that he would find a way to write it off and that the trip would give him a chance to see his Mom and other relatives.
The concert was wonderful and his part was extraordinary! The question that I have is this: Are Mike and I friends? How could we be? We hadn't spoken nor seen each other in well over forty years. We had nothing in common other than our shared baseball experiences when we were just boys.
Our families were totally different. My family was very dis-functional and a bit whacky. I think his family was pretty well-disciplined. His brother is a Brigadier General in the USMC and Mike is a retired Lieutenant-Colonel. In fact, if I remember correctly, Mike's wife, Kim is in the Marines. He has been around and worked with some of the most influential people in the world. Yet he wrote the following to me after the concert:
"Dear Pat: Listen, the pleasure was truly all mine and I thank you for the opportunity to be a part of something so very special . . . Moreover, it's refreshing to see classmates not only do well in their respective vocations, but to see them having fun doing it. You are a real professional in the same sense that I remember both Frank DeMeiro and Mr. Al (our hs choral directors). You should be very proud, I know I am!!
I guess we are friends. I guess that I should simply accept his congratulations and do as he suggests--be proud! However, the pride that I really feel is in the fact that Mike Kessler, Lieutenant-Colonel and war hero is a friend of mine. I truly hope that I can be as good a friend to him as he has been to me!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Friday, December 17, 2010
Memories
The announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen,please welcome our 2010 Don Freeman Award Winner." A rather tall and muscular young man strode to the podium. His face was a bit flushed with nervousness. As he approached the front of the meeting room at Safeco Field, the home of the Seattle Mariners, he shook hands with a few of the other coaches. "Thank you very much," the young man said. He looked very nervous now. "I am very honored to receive this award, especially as I look out and see so many coaches whose names I have heard and whose programs I respect. I would like to thank my parents who are both in attendance today. Again, thank you very much."
Again, as he walked back to his seat, he was greeted by many coaches who stuck out their hands to congratulate him.
I was suddenly sent back in time nearly 33 years. I was in the delivery room of the Dayton General Hospital in Dayton, Washington. There was my wife, RaeLyn, in the middle of giving birth. As I looked up at the clock on the wall in the delivery room, I saw the time: 4:15 AM, exactly. Just then he made his debut: Jason Patrick Castro.
Again, I was transported to a back yard in Port Townsend where I was playing baseball with a blonde little fellow with a fat, red, plastic baseball bat. He was wearing a Seattle Seahawks jersey with Steve Largent's number 80 on the front. He laughed loudly as he hit the ball 40 feet over my head into the neighbor's yard.
Now it was a cold night in October, the grass was frosty and I could see my breath as I sat in the stands watching the Snohomish Panther football team. Just then the quarterback threw a 15 yard pass to a wide open tight end. The tight end continued running for a 45 yard gain. Two plays later, the same tight end scored a touchdown.
The sun was out and it blinded me as I sat in the dugout. I was keeping score for the Panther baseball team. This would be Jason's last playoff game at Everett Memorial Stadium and I wanted a picture of his next 'at bat.' I left the dugout just as he strode to the plate. I found a good spot from which to aim my camera. Just as I focused on him, he swung and met the ball sharply. I clicked the shutter and then looked up to see the ball heading for deep left field. Could it? Oh, Lord, please!! GONE! Jason just hit a long home run! I love it. I went back to the dugout as he rounded the bases and when he came into the dugout, we hugged.
Now here he was accepting his second major award of the year. He had already accepted the AP Washington State 2A Coach of the Year Award, for finishing the season 2nd in the state. Now the State Coaches Association was honoring him. A dad's mind just goes wild during times like this. I remembered the little boy who was always laughing. He loved soccer. He loved basketball. He loved football. But most of all, he loved baseball. Now here he was, a 32 year old man, 6'3", 235 pounds, who was teaching other high school boys, not only the game of baseball, but the "game of life." He was teaching them how to be a "real winner," not just how to win games.
How does a father share this kind of pride without sounding like a braggart? How does one tell others that he is so thankful to God for having been allowed to be the father to such a person? I was once asked if I thought Jason appreciated all his mother and I had done for him. My response was, "Honestly?? We are the ones who are thankful for all he has done for us!!"
My grandma taught my uncles about baseball and they grew to love it. My mother taught me to love the game. And I taught Jason and he loves it. Isn't it wonderful how certain things never die?
" . . .buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack. I don't care if I ever get back . . ."
Again, as he walked back to his seat, he was greeted by many coaches who stuck out their hands to congratulate him.
I was suddenly sent back in time nearly 33 years. I was in the delivery room of the Dayton General Hospital in Dayton, Washington. There was my wife, RaeLyn, in the middle of giving birth. As I looked up at the clock on the wall in the delivery room, I saw the time: 4:15 AM, exactly. Just then he made his debut: Jason Patrick Castro.
Again, I was transported to a back yard in Port Townsend where I was playing baseball with a blonde little fellow with a fat, red, plastic baseball bat. He was wearing a Seattle Seahawks jersey with Steve Largent's number 80 on the front. He laughed loudly as he hit the ball 40 feet over my head into the neighbor's yard.
Now it was a cold night in October, the grass was frosty and I could see my breath as I sat in the stands watching the Snohomish Panther football team. Just then the quarterback threw a 15 yard pass to a wide open tight end. The tight end continued running for a 45 yard gain. Two plays later, the same tight end scored a touchdown.
The sun was out and it blinded me as I sat in the dugout. I was keeping score for the Panther baseball team. This would be Jason's last playoff game at Everett Memorial Stadium and I wanted a picture of his next 'at bat.' I left the dugout just as he strode to the plate. I found a good spot from which to aim my camera. Just as I focused on him, he swung and met the ball sharply. I clicked the shutter and then looked up to see the ball heading for deep left field. Could it? Oh, Lord, please!! GONE! Jason just hit a long home run! I love it. I went back to the dugout as he rounded the bases and when he came into the dugout, we hugged.
Now here he was accepting his second major award of the year. He had already accepted the AP Washington State 2A Coach of the Year Award, for finishing the season 2nd in the state. Now the State Coaches Association was honoring him. A dad's mind just goes wild during times like this. I remembered the little boy who was always laughing. He loved soccer. He loved basketball. He loved football. But most of all, he loved baseball. Now here he was, a 32 year old man, 6'3", 235 pounds, who was teaching other high school boys, not only the game of baseball, but the "game of life." He was teaching them how to be a "real winner," not just how to win games.
How does a father share this kind of pride without sounding like a braggart? How does one tell others that he is so thankful to God for having been allowed to be the father to such a person? I was once asked if I thought Jason appreciated all his mother and I had done for him. My response was, "Honestly?? We are the ones who are thankful for all he has done for us!!"
My grandma taught my uncles about baseball and they grew to love it. My mother taught me to love the game. And I taught Jason and he loves it. Isn't it wonderful how certain things never die?
" . . .buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack. I don't care if I ever get back . . ."
Monday, December 13, 2010
Farewell, Old Friend
Music has been the main interest in my life since I was in the 4th grade. That was when I began to study the clarinet. It wasn't until high school that I began studying singing "seriously". When I got to college, I dropped out of band and made voice my only instrument. I loved it! I was chosen to sing in musicals, to sing solos in choral works and to sing in numerous choral groups. When I left Everett Community College and went to the University of Puget Sound I was accepted into the Adelphian Concert Choir. There I began an entirely new and exciting experience in the study of voice and music. Singing literally took me all over the world, singing the great music of history.
In 1975, I graduated from UPS and took a teaching position in Eastern Washington. For the next 30 years I taught all sorts of music classes (vocal, instrumental, band, choir, high school, elementary, etc.). All during my teaching career, I always made time for singing. I sang in church, I sang at school, I gave recitals and concerts every chance I had and loved every minute. And in 1980, I completed a Master of Music degree--- in Vocal Performance. Over the years I was often hired to sing with symphony orchestras and large choral groups. I appeared in small operas and many musicals. It was all so very fulfilling and satisfying!
This coming January, I will be involved in a production of Amahl and the Night Visitors. This is an hour-long opera telling the story of a crippled boy and his mother who are destitute and how they are visited by the three magi on their way to see the Christ child and the miracle that takes place. I sing the role of King Kaspar and it is always a lot of fun. I portray the King a little differently than most other tenors and I really feel good when it is done.
This will be my final singing engagement, though. Over the last 10 - 12 years my voice has gotten more and more "out-of-control". I have lost a great deal of vocal control and agility and am now at a point that I know I must retire. Many, many folks have encouraged me to continue to pursue therapy, treatment, voice lessons, and the like. I have done this and have found no improvement. I have finally decided that I would be happier not singing than to continue knowing that I am not even close to doing a good job.
I have fought a deep sense of loss for the past 5 years because I have missed singing more and more. I miss the "feeling" of the voice in my head. I miss the pursuit of beauty and artistry. I miss the camaraderie that comes with the extensive rehearsal and toil of learning a difficult choral work with other like-minded musicians. I miss the euphoria that comes after a performance that went well. I miss the perspective of the performer--I love being on stage!!!
There really was never much of a chance that I was going to become a "great" singer, like a Pavarotti or a Björling or a Gedda. But I loved every opportunity that I got to perform. I loved every compliment that I received and I was grateful to God for allowing me to bring joy to those who received it in my performances.
Now I am going to be saying "Adieu" to singing. Again, I thank God for all the chances that were mine to perform. This journey was never only about me. There were so many people that were directly responsible for any success that I enjoyed: Ed Aliverti, Frank Demiero, Ted Wahlstrom, Bruce Rodgers and Margaret Myles. I met so many wonderful friends; some of these friendships having lasted a lifetime: Scott Baker, Michael Delos, Tom Lafferty, Cameron Griffith and my very special musical soul-mate, Linda Purcell Nye.
After January, I will sing no more. But I will still be enjoying music. I am planning to continue doing some conducting. There is still work to be done, presenting the Patrick Castro "Excellence in Vocal Music Award" concert each year. There are many concerts and shows to attend and quite a few former students who are performing in those concerts and shows.
Life is a constant evolution and my routine is continually growing and changing. But giving up singing will be the toughest task yet. The urge is still in me but the ability has "left the building".
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference. Amen
In 1975, I graduated from UPS and took a teaching position in Eastern Washington. For the next 30 years I taught all sorts of music classes (vocal, instrumental, band, choir, high school, elementary, etc.). All during my teaching career, I always made time for singing. I sang in church, I sang at school, I gave recitals and concerts every chance I had and loved every minute. And in 1980, I completed a Master of Music degree--- in Vocal Performance. Over the years I was often hired to sing with symphony orchestras and large choral groups. I appeared in small operas and many musicals. It was all so very fulfilling and satisfying!
This coming January, I will be involved in a production of Amahl and the Night Visitors. This is an hour-long opera telling the story of a crippled boy and his mother who are destitute and how they are visited by the three magi on their way to see the Christ child and the miracle that takes place. I sing the role of King Kaspar and it is always a lot of fun. I portray the King a little differently than most other tenors and I really feel good when it is done.
This will be my final singing engagement, though. Over the last 10 - 12 years my voice has gotten more and more "out-of-control". I have lost a great deal of vocal control and agility and am now at a point that I know I must retire. Many, many folks have encouraged me to continue to pursue therapy, treatment, voice lessons, and the like. I have done this and have found no improvement. I have finally decided that I would be happier not singing than to continue knowing that I am not even close to doing a good job.
I have fought a deep sense of loss for the past 5 years because I have missed singing more and more. I miss the "feeling" of the voice in my head. I miss the pursuit of beauty and artistry. I miss the camaraderie that comes with the extensive rehearsal and toil of learning a difficult choral work with other like-minded musicians. I miss the euphoria that comes after a performance that went well. I miss the perspective of the performer--I love being on stage!!!
There really was never much of a chance that I was going to become a "great" singer, like a Pavarotti or a Björling or a Gedda. But I loved every opportunity that I got to perform. I loved every compliment that I received and I was grateful to God for allowing me to bring joy to those who received it in my performances.
Now I am going to be saying "Adieu" to singing. Again, I thank God for all the chances that were mine to perform. This journey was never only about me. There were so many people that were directly responsible for any success that I enjoyed: Ed Aliverti, Frank Demiero, Ted Wahlstrom, Bruce Rodgers and Margaret Myles. I met so many wonderful friends; some of these friendships having lasted a lifetime: Scott Baker, Michael Delos, Tom Lafferty, Cameron Griffith and my very special musical soul-mate, Linda Purcell Nye.
After January, I will sing no more. But I will still be enjoying music. I am planning to continue doing some conducting. There is still work to be done, presenting the Patrick Castro "Excellence in Vocal Music Award" concert each year. There are many concerts and shows to attend and quite a few former students who are performing in those concerts and shows.
Life is a constant evolution and my routine is continually growing and changing. But giving up singing will be the toughest task yet. The urge is still in me but the ability has "left the building".
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference. Amen
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Do You Smell That?
As long as I can remember, smells have had an influence on me and my mood. I don't know what it is about them that impacts me so much, but I know that I am highly effected. Most of these smells are those that we all experience: newly mowed grass, freshly baked bread, clean sheets on the bed, and the inside of a brand-new car. These are all wonderful and I love it every time they come to me. But there are other smells that have an even greater effect on me.
When I was growing up, my Grandma Gert lived in a neighborhood just south and east of Seattle University. This was, as we said in those days, a "Negro neighborhood". We had always been taught to be equally respectful to African-Americans in those days and we were. Anyway, two doors north of my Grandma's big house was a store. It was a neighborhood store. It was owned by a black family that lived in the back of the store. Every time we visited Grandma Gert, we would go there with our pennies and try to buy gum and candy. I cannot describe the smell in the store to anyone else; I just know when it comes to me. And when it does, I am immediately transported back to age 8 and being in that store. It was a wonderful smell! And a wonderful feeling!
Another one usually happens to me in late February or maybe early March. There will come a day, when a smell outdoors comes to me. It is very distinctive, yet very mild. It is the smell of baseball.It does not smell like a ball or glove or bat. It smells like Spring; maybe some new blooms bring it about or maybe the smell of wet soil. I don't know from where it comes. I just know it when it comes and I love it!
One of the biggest ones for me are the many smells of the city. I experienced this when I was young and would occasionally take the bus into downtown Seattle. I also experienced it when I visited New York City, only stronger. It isn't just one smell, but all the smells; dirt, exhaust, urine, food smell from the inside of a restaurant as one passes by, smell of salt water, garbage, etc. Now some of these are not pleasant smells. But that is just it; these smells still effect me. They are part of the experience and the place and the time and the surroundings. Just like life.
Life is a whole, an entity. Part of it is wonderful, beautiful and so exciting. Other parts are sad, depressing, sick, twisted, perverted. Yet, these are still parts of life and are every bit as important in our experiences as some of the most wondrous events.
I love all the smells. My very favorite, which triggered this BLOG, occurred last night. It has happened to me every year that I can remember. I walked outside to get in the car and it happened. There is a smell in the air, maybe even just a sense or a feeling, but it is definitely there. I can feel Christmas!!! I love Christmas so much and even at my "advanced" age, I still anticipate it like a child! The cold air, the smell of the cold, the crisp feeling, the lights, the memories of family events and Christmas seasons past, and so much more.
During my childhood, my family was very poor; welfare, second and third-hand clothes and toys, not many friends, etc. The usual. Even so, we still had some hope at Christmas that we might get something new and special. And sometimes, we did. But there were smells even then. It was just "in the air", I guess. I wish I had better words to describe it.
I guess this is now the beginning of the holiday season for me. And the high point will be Christmas Eve service at church, particularly if it is the 11:00 PM service, as this is what the custom was when I was young. Plus, as kids, we got to open our Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve right after church.
I was born on Christmas Day and I have always loved all of the build up to that day. Not so much because of my birthday alone (although I did think it was pretty important!!). But because of the smells; all the joy, all the anticipation, all the closeness and so forth. It was something I could smell.
Now that THE season has begun, I am going to try very hard to share all "my smells" with everybody, because that is what you all deserve!!!
When I was growing up, my Grandma Gert lived in a neighborhood just south and east of Seattle University. This was, as we said in those days, a "Negro neighborhood". We had always been taught to be equally respectful to African-Americans in those days and we were. Anyway, two doors north of my Grandma's big house was a store. It was a neighborhood store. It was owned by a black family that lived in the back of the store. Every time we visited Grandma Gert, we would go there with our pennies and try to buy gum and candy. I cannot describe the smell in the store to anyone else; I just know when it comes to me. And when it does, I am immediately transported back to age 8 and being in that store. It was a wonderful smell! And a wonderful feeling!
Another one usually happens to me in late February or maybe early March. There will come a day, when a smell outdoors comes to me. It is very distinctive, yet very mild. It is the smell of baseball.It does not smell like a ball or glove or bat. It smells like Spring; maybe some new blooms bring it about or maybe the smell of wet soil. I don't know from where it comes. I just know it when it comes and I love it!
One of the biggest ones for me are the many smells of the city. I experienced this when I was young and would occasionally take the bus into downtown Seattle. I also experienced it when I visited New York City, only stronger. It isn't just one smell, but all the smells; dirt, exhaust, urine, food smell from the inside of a restaurant as one passes by, smell of salt water, garbage, etc. Now some of these are not pleasant smells. But that is just it; these smells still effect me. They are part of the experience and the place and the time and the surroundings. Just like life.
Life is a whole, an entity. Part of it is wonderful, beautiful and so exciting. Other parts are sad, depressing, sick, twisted, perverted. Yet, these are still parts of life and are every bit as important in our experiences as some of the most wondrous events.
I love all the smells. My very favorite, which triggered this BLOG, occurred last night. It has happened to me every year that I can remember. I walked outside to get in the car and it happened. There is a smell in the air, maybe even just a sense or a feeling, but it is definitely there. I can feel Christmas!!! I love Christmas so much and even at my "advanced" age, I still anticipate it like a child! The cold air, the smell of the cold, the crisp feeling, the lights, the memories of family events and Christmas seasons past, and so much more.
During my childhood, my family was very poor; welfare, second and third-hand clothes and toys, not many friends, etc. The usual. Even so, we still had some hope at Christmas that we might get something new and special. And sometimes, we did. But there were smells even then. It was just "in the air", I guess. I wish I had better words to describe it.
I guess this is now the beginning of the holiday season for me. And the high point will be Christmas Eve service at church, particularly if it is the 11:00 PM service, as this is what the custom was when I was young. Plus, as kids, we got to open our Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve right after church.
I was born on Christmas Day and I have always loved all of the build up to that day. Not so much because of my birthday alone (although I did think it was pretty important!!). But because of the smells; all the joy, all the anticipation, all the closeness and so forth. It was something I could smell.
Now that THE season has begun, I am going to try very hard to share all "my smells" with everybody, because that is what you all deserve!!!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Truly Thankful
Today was the last day of work before Thanksgiving. It was a day that was very much like any other work day. I went in at 8:00 AM, loaded my van and took off. My first stop in the morning, after loading, is at the Bailey Center on Broadway in Everett. This is a large mental health facility that houses a Crisis Beds area for short-stay in-patient care, case manager offices and facilities and counselor and psychiatrist offices. There is also a pharmacy and a physician's clinic. My job is to deliver and pickup client files, interoffice mail and medications for clients. These clients suffer from any of a variety of mental illnesses; depression, bi-polar disorder, all forms of schizophrenia, etc.
I need to share a "small little something" that came to me today as I left Bailey.
Every day I am greeted by my friend, Darrel. He is one who suffers from bi-polar disorder. He has a wonderful sense of humor, a bit of a salty mouth and dearly loves the Lord Jesus. There are many others who speak with me quite often. They usually only say "Hello" and "How's it goin'". Once in a while we stop to talk about the music that is blaring in their headphones.
I am very cognizant of the many, many blessings I have received in this life. I have a beautiful wife, two amazing kids, two sweet and energetic granddaughters and many friends. I have had a complete career as a music educator and conductor and have had the wonderful opportunity to perform hundreds of times as a classical singer all over the world. I have seen my son receive many awards for his achievements in athletics. I have seen my daughter receive much recognition for her creative endeavors (she still has art hanging, not only in Snohomish, but all over the U.S.). My wife is smart, dedicated, loving, patient and warm. But today I experienced something that was deeply touching and came to me "out of the blue."
As I left the Bailey Center on my afternoon route, one of my "mentally ill friends" held the door open for me and said, "Happy Thanksgiving, Pat." This is a person who suffers from drug and alcohol addiction, smokes cigarettes constantly, struggles with bi-polar disease, is quite often talking to people that are not there and can't hold any kind of job. He lives alone and his clothes are held together with twine and thread that he has sewn on. He will never have any kind of a "normal" life and he really doesn't have any true friends. He spends the entire day, every day, at the Bailey Center, sitting on his haunches drinking coffee and smoking. 8 to 9 hours a day he is there. He has nothing else in his life to do. But he wished me a "Happy Thanksgiving."
As I approached the van, my eyes filled with tears. I felt as if I had just been touched by Jesus himself. This man, whose name is Billy, is mentally ill. He cannot live a life that the rest of us would call a life. He has no wife or girlfriend. He cannot work. He cannot drive a car. He cannot do much of anything. But he wished me a "Happy Thanksgiving."
After I wiped my tears (I was pretty choked up) I went back up to him, shook his hand and thanked him. I asked if he was going to have a turkey dinner. He said that his sister always comes to town and he and his mother have dinner with her. I wished him a "Happy Thanksgiving" and hugged him. He looked a little startled. I went to load the van and leave and as I drove away, he waved.
How is it that all of us normal folk treat each other like crap; shoot, rob and lie to each other? And here is a man who, much of the time,doesn't know if he is pumped or stuffed and HE wishes ME a "Happy Thanksgiving."
Makes one think, doesn't it!!
I need to share a "small little something" that came to me today as I left Bailey.
Every day I am greeted by my friend, Darrel. He is one who suffers from bi-polar disorder. He has a wonderful sense of humor, a bit of a salty mouth and dearly loves the Lord Jesus. There are many others who speak with me quite often. They usually only say "Hello" and "How's it goin'". Once in a while we stop to talk about the music that is blaring in their headphones.
I am very cognizant of the many, many blessings I have received in this life. I have a beautiful wife, two amazing kids, two sweet and energetic granddaughters and many friends. I have had a complete career as a music educator and conductor and have had the wonderful opportunity to perform hundreds of times as a classical singer all over the world. I have seen my son receive many awards for his achievements in athletics. I have seen my daughter receive much recognition for her creative endeavors (she still has art hanging, not only in Snohomish, but all over the U.S.). My wife is smart, dedicated, loving, patient and warm. But today I experienced something that was deeply touching and came to me "out of the blue."
As I left the Bailey Center on my afternoon route, one of my "mentally ill friends" held the door open for me and said, "Happy Thanksgiving, Pat." This is a person who suffers from drug and alcohol addiction, smokes cigarettes constantly, struggles with bi-polar disease, is quite often talking to people that are not there and can't hold any kind of job. He lives alone and his clothes are held together with twine and thread that he has sewn on. He will never have any kind of a "normal" life and he really doesn't have any true friends. He spends the entire day, every day, at the Bailey Center, sitting on his haunches drinking coffee and smoking. 8 to 9 hours a day he is there. He has nothing else in his life to do. But he wished me a "Happy Thanksgiving."
As I approached the van, my eyes filled with tears. I felt as if I had just been touched by Jesus himself. This man, whose name is Billy, is mentally ill. He cannot live a life that the rest of us would call a life. He has no wife or girlfriend. He cannot work. He cannot drive a car. He cannot do much of anything. But he wished me a "Happy Thanksgiving."
After I wiped my tears (I was pretty choked up) I went back up to him, shook his hand and thanked him. I asked if he was going to have a turkey dinner. He said that his sister always comes to town and he and his mother have dinner with her. I wished him a "Happy Thanksgiving" and hugged him. He looked a little startled. I went to load the van and leave and as I drove away, he waved.
How is it that all of us normal folk treat each other like crap; shoot, rob and lie to each other? And here is a man who, much of the time,doesn't know if he is pumped or stuffed and HE wishes ME a "Happy Thanksgiving."
Makes one think, doesn't it!!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Life's Evolution
It was 1960, and I was attending my very first professional baseball game. My mom took me to Seattle to attend a Seattle Rainiers game. Sick's Seattle Stadium was at the corner of Rainier Ave. S. and S. McClellan St. When I walked up the steps to field level and saw the deep green of the infield, I am certain my jaw dropped to my knees! This was like heaven!!
From that day to this, I have loved the game. I was never very good at it but have been around it since I was eight years old. Oh, I played Little League and then Babe Ruth. I even was on my high school teams, first on the junior varsity and, in my senior year, the varsity. But only played one game, and that was only one at-bat and that at-bat lasted only one pitch. I grounded out to the pitcher.
When our first child, Jason came along, I began to pass things along. He seemed to love all sports and, indeed, in high school, he excelled at football, basketball, soccer and baseball. The latter was his favorite and he received several awards: All-Wesco junior/senior year, All-Area senior year and All-State senior year. He went on to play for three years at perennial power, Linfield College in McMinnville, Oregon.
He has been teaching and coaching for nine years and presently he is the Head Baseball coach at R.A. Long High School in Longview, Washington. Longview is a two-school town: Mark Morris High School and R.A. Long High School. Jason took over the R.A. Long program when he was still teaching at Kelso High School and began to change things. The year before he took over, the Lumberjacks (his teams' mascot) had won only two baseball games; 2-18!! Not good!
Jason began to build things and little by little, things changed. It was, however, not without some very deep sorrow and frustrations on Jason's part. He was not sure at all that he wanted to continue. Parents were a huge problem. They always seemed to be complaining and there was no support from the administrators or AD. He would call me and we would talk long hours as he would vent and share his dilemmas.
Over the years things have improved. Along with the Head Football coach, Eric Bertram, Jason has been pushing the school toward a sense of excellence. They have begun to build their own school identity and with Eric's help, things are moving along excellently.
Today, we attended the annual Hall of Fame Luncheon of the Washington State Baseball Coaches Association. It was held at Safeco Field and the keynote speaker was Jack Zduriencik, the General Manager of the Seattle Mariners. By the way, a phenomenal speaker; completely open and totally honest about the most recent season's performance by the Mariners.
We were there to see Jason receive the Don Freeman Award: for outstanding achievement by a young coach. He had, in June, been selected by the AP Sportswriters of the State of Washington as the 2A Washington State Baseball Coach of the Year, for leading the R.A. Long Lumberjacks to a 2nd place finish in the state tournament.
Of course, we are very proud of the job he has done and what he has accomplished in his short career. But as his dad, I still remember all the hours and hours and hours he would make me hit ground balls to him, throw batting practice to him and play catch with him. I still think about all the games we would go to and the baseball cards we collected (which he still has!) and the autographs we asked for. I still have the ball that was his first home run, which was in Little League. He made sure to sign it for me. He was 12 at the time!!!
Truly, I am not writing this to impress anyone. I am not writing it to brag and to say "look what my kid did". I am writing it because we all want our kids to find their place in life. We all want our kids to find success and to be acknowledged for their successes. Well, he has found his place and has found success in that place.
But the most important thing of all is that he is still just Jason Castro. He used to be Jason Castro, Pat and RaeLyn's kid. But now he is Jason Castro, husband to Jill, daddy to Bailey and Maddie, teacher, coach and mentor to hundreds. But he is really just Jason, the kid who loves everybody and who is loved by everybody.
Funny how life transforms us and changes us as it moves along. Thirty years ago he and I were wrestling in the living room. Twenty-seven years ago he and I played Aggravation after dinner every night and I can still remember his joy when he finally beat me! I remember the time I hit a grounder to him and it knocked out one of his front teeth and how he refused to quit--he wanted me to keep hitting more balls!
Now I am Papa Pat, Bailey and Maddie's grandpa and I am the man who lives with Nana Lyn. And, as Bailey told me last weekend, "You are not a boy, you are too old to be a boy. Papa, you need to sit down and rest."
Life does change and it moves along non-stop. But we stay who we are, who God created us to be. RaeLyn and I were certainly proud when our son walked up to receive his plaque today. But there is no plaque for what he is best at: just being Jason!
From that day to this, I have loved the game. I was never very good at it but have been around it since I was eight years old. Oh, I played Little League and then Babe Ruth. I even was on my high school teams, first on the junior varsity and, in my senior year, the varsity. But only played one game, and that was only one at-bat and that at-bat lasted only one pitch. I grounded out to the pitcher.
When our first child, Jason came along, I began to pass things along. He seemed to love all sports and, indeed, in high school, he excelled at football, basketball, soccer and baseball. The latter was his favorite and he received several awards: All-Wesco junior/senior year, All-Area senior year and All-State senior year. He went on to play for three years at perennial power, Linfield College in McMinnville, Oregon.
He has been teaching and coaching for nine years and presently he is the Head Baseball coach at R.A. Long High School in Longview, Washington. Longview is a two-school town: Mark Morris High School and R.A. Long High School. Jason took over the R.A. Long program when he was still teaching at Kelso High School and began to change things. The year before he took over, the Lumberjacks (his teams' mascot) had won only two baseball games; 2-18!! Not good!
Jason began to build things and little by little, things changed. It was, however, not without some very deep sorrow and frustrations on Jason's part. He was not sure at all that he wanted to continue. Parents were a huge problem. They always seemed to be complaining and there was no support from the administrators or AD. He would call me and we would talk long hours as he would vent and share his dilemmas.
Over the years things have improved. Along with the Head Football coach, Eric Bertram, Jason has been pushing the school toward a sense of excellence. They have begun to build their own school identity and with Eric's help, things are moving along excellently.
Today, we attended the annual Hall of Fame Luncheon of the Washington State Baseball Coaches Association. It was held at Safeco Field and the keynote speaker was Jack Zduriencik, the General Manager of the Seattle Mariners. By the way, a phenomenal speaker; completely open and totally honest about the most recent season's performance by the Mariners.
We were there to see Jason receive the Don Freeman Award: for outstanding achievement by a young coach. He had, in June, been selected by the AP Sportswriters of the State of Washington as the 2A Washington State Baseball Coach of the Year, for leading the R.A. Long Lumberjacks to a 2nd place finish in the state tournament.
Of course, we are very proud of the job he has done and what he has accomplished in his short career. But as his dad, I still remember all the hours and hours and hours he would make me hit ground balls to him, throw batting practice to him and play catch with him. I still think about all the games we would go to and the baseball cards we collected (which he still has!) and the autographs we asked for. I still have the ball that was his first home run, which was in Little League. He made sure to sign it for me. He was 12 at the time!!!
Truly, I am not writing this to impress anyone. I am not writing it to brag and to say "look what my kid did". I am writing it because we all want our kids to find their place in life. We all want our kids to find success and to be acknowledged for their successes. Well, he has found his place and has found success in that place.
But the most important thing of all is that he is still just Jason Castro. He used to be Jason Castro, Pat and RaeLyn's kid. But now he is Jason Castro, husband to Jill, daddy to Bailey and Maddie, teacher, coach and mentor to hundreds. But he is really just Jason, the kid who loves everybody and who is loved by everybody.
Funny how life transforms us and changes us as it moves along. Thirty years ago he and I were wrestling in the living room. Twenty-seven years ago he and I played Aggravation after dinner every night and I can still remember his joy when he finally beat me! I remember the time I hit a grounder to him and it knocked out one of his front teeth and how he refused to quit--he wanted me to keep hitting more balls!
Now I am Papa Pat, Bailey and Maddie's grandpa and I am the man who lives with Nana Lyn. And, as Bailey told me last weekend, "You are not a boy, you are too old to be a boy. Papa, you need to sit down and rest."
Life does change and it moves along non-stop. But we stay who we are, who God created us to be. RaeLyn and I were certainly proud when our son walked up to receive his plaque today. But there is no plaque for what he is best at: just being Jason!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Where Has Integrity Gone?
The wind is blowing like crazy and the lights keep flickering, so I am not sure this will get written tonight. But I am going to go as long as I can. I am listening to CBC Classical on the radio and they are playing "Overture to a Fairy Tale: by Oskar Morawetz. It is awesome!
Did you read about Cameron Newton? He is the quarterback (and let me say right now, a very good one) at Auburn University, in Georgia. He is very controversial, for many reasons, none of which are positive. He used to be a student-athlete at the University of Florida. But he was asked to leave because he was caught cheating on some exams--three different times! So he decided to go to a junior college so he could get eligible to play football at a Division I school again. He was going to go to Mississippi State. His father, a preacher, told the athletic recruiter, when asked what it would take for Cam to attend Miss. State, it would take "from $100,000.00 to $180,000.00 for my son to come to Mississippi State."
Two weeks ago there was an accusation made that the football coach at Florida had leaked Newton's grade record and student file, making it public. Of course, that coach has denied that accusation.
Do you ever watch college football or basketball on TV and try to imagine some of those young men attending class? Can you see them sitting in class or carrying books or working in a lab? Can you imagine reading an essay written by one of these guys? And what kind of classes are they taking? Are they really college classes? Or are they, you know, "classes for students who don't want to take classes"?
Now I know there are student-athletes who are really student-athletes. They really do exist! Jake Locker has received his degree at UW. So did Jon Brockman. And there are many others. But many more student-athletes do not graduate. In fact, I wonder if they are really "eligible", since it is the institution that oversees that.
My whole point is this: Where has integrity gone? Newton's father, a preacher, was asking for as much as $180,000.00 for his son to attend a certain school. A preacher! A man who is, at least in my mind, a representative of God. God's representative committing a crime, openly and unabashedly. What is going on? Where is his integrity, if not as a man, as a representative of the Almighty?
I am not in any way saying that I am any better. I have most certainly committed my share of sins--and about 10 other peoples' share, too! But . . .oh, I don't know. I am just so tired of seeing people trying to "make it big" and they don't even want to do it honestly.
And another thing . . . how did they get admitted into that university in the first place? People like me, who had limited "special skills" had to have fairly good grades (above 3.2) to even get accepted. These athletes are getting into major universities with a 2.3 to 2.7 and most of them barely stay eligible. It is truly disgusting. A real sad commentary on what has become important in our society.
And they give these guys tuition and book money and food allowance. I had to work. I had to sing so that I could receive a pittance of a scholarship.I went into debt that took RaeLyn and I 10 years to pay back. And when I retired from teaching, after 30 years, I was making a little over $60,000.00 per year. Student-athletes pay no tuition, get their books paid for and receive a small stipend. Then, when they graduate and play in the NFL, they make a minimum of $325,000.00 in their first year. I worked 30 years and was making less than 1/5 what they are making in their first year!
And if I would quit going to these games and stop watching them on TV and if everybody else would do that, too, we would not have this problem. It is all about the money!
"Lord forgive us, for, in our hearts, we know better. But we don't care."
Did you read about Cameron Newton? He is the quarterback (and let me say right now, a very good one) at Auburn University, in Georgia. He is very controversial, for many reasons, none of which are positive. He used to be a student-athlete at the University of Florida. But he was asked to leave because he was caught cheating on some exams--three different times! So he decided to go to a junior college so he could get eligible to play football at a Division I school again. He was going to go to Mississippi State. His father, a preacher, told the athletic recruiter, when asked what it would take for Cam to attend Miss. State, it would take "from $100,000.00 to $180,000.00 for my son to come to Mississippi State."
Two weeks ago there was an accusation made that the football coach at Florida had leaked Newton's grade record and student file, making it public. Of course, that coach has denied that accusation.
Do you ever watch college football or basketball on TV and try to imagine some of those young men attending class? Can you see them sitting in class or carrying books or working in a lab? Can you imagine reading an essay written by one of these guys? And what kind of classes are they taking? Are they really college classes? Or are they, you know, "classes for students who don't want to take classes"?
Now I know there are student-athletes who are really student-athletes. They really do exist! Jake Locker has received his degree at UW. So did Jon Brockman. And there are many others. But many more student-athletes do not graduate. In fact, I wonder if they are really "eligible", since it is the institution that oversees that.
My whole point is this: Where has integrity gone? Newton's father, a preacher, was asking for as much as $180,000.00 for his son to attend a certain school. A preacher! A man who is, at least in my mind, a representative of God. God's representative committing a crime, openly and unabashedly. What is going on? Where is his integrity, if not as a man, as a representative of the Almighty?
I am not in any way saying that I am any better. I have most certainly committed my share of sins--and about 10 other peoples' share, too! But . . .oh, I don't know. I am just so tired of seeing people trying to "make it big" and they don't even want to do it honestly.
And another thing . . . how did they get admitted into that university in the first place? People like me, who had limited "special skills" had to have fairly good grades (above 3.2) to even get accepted. These athletes are getting into major universities with a 2.3 to 2.7 and most of them barely stay eligible. It is truly disgusting. A real sad commentary on what has become important in our society.
And they give these guys tuition and book money and food allowance. I had to work. I had to sing so that I could receive a pittance of a scholarship.I went into debt that took RaeLyn and I 10 years to pay back. And when I retired from teaching, after 30 years, I was making a little over $60,000.00 per year. Student-athletes pay no tuition, get their books paid for and receive a small stipend. Then, when they graduate and play in the NFL, they make a minimum of $325,000.00 in their first year. I worked 30 years and was making less than 1/5 what they are making in their first year!
And if I would quit going to these games and stop watching them on TV and if everybody else would do that, too, we would not have this problem. It is all about the money!
"Lord forgive us, for, in our hearts, we know better. But we don't care."
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