My Soul Has Been Holding Itself Captive

Although Thanksgiving has passed us by quite some time ago, I am thinking today about all the persons, places and things for which I am 'thankful'. Perhaps that is what being trapped inside the house for five straight days with no one to talk with but one's wife does to one. I can't count the number of times I thought about getting in the car and going for a drive, only to realize that there was too much snow to do so. Or how many times I thought about just going for a short walk and then saw 12 inches of snow and that I no longer own a pair of snow boots. Together, over the past five days, RaeLyn and I watched 9 movies, 16 re-run episodes of NCIS and 6 re-run episodes of NCIS: LA. She has read three books and I finished one and started another. Also, I have listened to 2 operas and 14 podcasts.

This afternoon, we got into my car and drove to Fred Meyer. We then drove to Monroe to feed RaeLyn's fish at her pre-school. Then we drove to Lake Stevens to see my sister. We stopped and had a wonderful dinner at Luca's Italian Restaurant and listened a bit to a fine singer while we ate. Upon our arrival at good old "home sweet home" I realized how grateful I was to be able to get out of the house and go places, any places I wanted. One thing led to another and I began to collect things and people and items for which I thanked God.

Sometimes we need to go without to spend some time thinking about all the things we have. I can't believe how much I take for granted; when I am busy running about I forget how fortunate I am to own the home that I do. When I am stuck in that same home, all I can think about is getting out and going some place and doing something.

I believe that God has been exceedingly generous with us. We have truly wonderful children, beautiful grandchildren, a comfortable home, successful and respected careers, friends, activities, and so on and so on and so on . . .

No, it's not Thanksgiving but I am thinking that we all can spend a little more time thinking about how fortunate we are. My next move is to decide what my next move should be.

Who Sees Our Future?

As a teacher I came to be close to many, many young people. Some went on to college, some didn't. Some went on to study music in some form, some didn't.Some stayed in their hometown and others moved on to "big city" life. Some still stay in contact with me, some don't. Some of them liked me, some didn't. Each one was a different personality and had different learning strengths and needs. I learned early-on that if I was going to do my job correctly, I would need to get to know them on a much deeper level. However, this took me AWAY from my dream, which had been to complete my Master's degree and Doctoral degree and become a university choral music professor. But it never happened. I found that I didn't have the skills for that. But I did have the skills for helping kids grow up through music. Music wasn't always the subject. The real subject was 'life'. I was better at teaching that, than I was at teaching music. I am writing this to a specific friend of mine. He is a former student of mine-a very gifted, talented young man who has chosen to go into the music education field. He just hasn't found a job yet. He had a great idea for self-motivated music students in his local geographic area. He did an exemplary job of planning and organizing his idea. He covered all the bases. He included professionals in the area who were willing to be of assistance. He aligned himself with a local music organization that could and would offer their non-profit status for the good of his idea. The time came to take his well-planned idea to the people that mattered most---the local music educators. And they gave him a resounding, "Sorry, but we are not interested. We are not interested in asking/allowing our students to take on more musical responsibility." (Personally, I think they were pretty much intimidated and were a bit worried that the educator with the idea might do a better job than they were doing. But, that's just me!) My friend was devastated! He had worked so very hard. He planned well: he would emphasize what was important, he would teach what was musically fundamental and do it in a most interesting manner, he would help these fine students reach an even higher musical-performance level. And he would have done it asking NOTHING for himself. He just wanted to be teaching and be involved bringing the joy of music to young people. My dream was to become a college professor. I didn't. I became Mr. Castro--an average choral music teacher with average students who had average musical gifts. Some excelled and some stayed average. Some were even less than average. But that was OK because I was "built" to teach the average kids. My dream was to teach just gifted students and take them on 'Tour' and perform the most difficult choral works and receive standing ovations. What I couldn't see and what I couldn't know, was that even with all my talent and planning and education and drive and deep love for music, God had chosen me for talents and skills in a different area than those needed to accomplish my dream. My abilities were made for those average kids. I loved my students and what they achieved. Sometimes they performed poorly and sometimes they performed exceptionally. Most of the time, they performed somewhere in the middle. However, I am certain that they learned a lot more than the music. And they enjoyed it. And they had fun.There were many memorable moments and events: singing on the Great Wall of China, making a vocal jazz radio commercial for KOMO's Larry Nelson, receiving the 1st Place Trophy at many vocal jazz festivals, etc. But I also remember just as fondly "connecting" with kids and finding a way to help them grow and become and thrive. I was proud to be in their service. That was where my gifts were. My dream never reached fruition. Professor Castro, I will never be. However, I am certain that there are hundreds of students that experienced musical joy, personal growth and inner peace because I never reached my goal. So be it! To my saddened friend, if you are reading this, you know who you are. I expect that you will write me or call me soon. Remember, God knows what we don't know. He also knows your heart and what you desire and what you can do to be of service. I am ever so proud of the man you have become and will always be pleased to tell others that you were "one of mine." God Bless and remember, "Your time will come. Just listen for His voice--you'll hear it."

Life: It Ain't Easy

"I'm calling your mother, young man! You are in BIG trouble." That was Delores. She ran the little store about five blocks from my house. I was eight years old and I had just been caught shoplifting. I was purchasing something small, but had a 'yen' for a popsicle, too. I thought it would help cover my tracks if I bought something at the same time that I was stealing something. It obviously did not work very well. When I got home, I was summarily punished. But the stealing didn't stop. When I was a few years older, I was visiting a neighborhood friend. We were playing with our baseball cards, trading and just doing what boys did in 1960. When Steve left his room, I pocketed a few of his silver dollars. I thought he had enough that he would not notice if two or three went missing. His mother called my mother (they were friends) and I was taken right back and directed to return the dollars and to apologize. And when I got home, I was summarily punished. Over and over this happened in my life. I stole from anyone I could. I stole from large grocery stores, friends, school and neighbors. I even stole from my own mother's purse (though she never had very much money). To top it all off, I once stole well over $400.00 from my church!! Most people who know me now are gasping with disbelief as they read this. I am certainly not proud of this little bit of personal history and really didn't want to share it. But it keeps coming back to me and I have been trying to discover the source of this complete lack of respect for the property of others. My parents never advocated dishonesty. I never saw them steal. In most ways they were forthright--at least when I was quite young. Just what was it that caused this nice young boy to turn to a life of theft? Was it because we were poor? And had nothing? Maybe. My parents worked; they had jobs that they went to EVERY day. They never stayed home sick and they never got vacation until I was in high school. My father, who was Hispanic, had no education past the eighth grade. When he quit school he went to work to support his mother. She was "old country" Mexican and had even less education than my dad. There was no father in his life, either. He never had the chance to play much; no Boy Scouts, no Little League, no band or choir in school, no art, no fun, really, of any kind. It always stood to reason that he would try to deny me those same activities. He always put me to work--that was all he knew. His job was his whole life and he expected work to be the same for me. But why did I steal? Attention? Maybe. My mother was my only REAL parent. She paid attention to me, taught me, read to me, shared with me, corrected me, etc. She was the one who taught me about baseball; the rules, famous players, how to keep a score-sheet,and so forth. She took me to see the Seattle Rainiers many times. She taught me about girls and honesty and hard work and the importance of school. She made sure that I had clothes (when there was any money) and she always was the one who attended my school conferences. But perhaps she gave up "a little" the day I came home from the sixth grade and told her that I was supposed to have her bring me to the police station.I had been caught stealing again. I can only imagine her feeling of betrayal and her great disappointment, to say nothing of her embarrassment. No charges were brought and everything was worked out with the person whom I had offended. But why? Why would I continue to steal? Although I really do not blame him, I truly think it has to do with having a father who was pretty much absent in my life. The culture of his youth and the culture of my youth were just too many worlds apart. He didn't understand how to relate. He didn't ever have the experience of being a son and seeing how a father does what a father is supposed to do. He never told me he was proud of me, although he often told others. He never initiated any kind of play or recreational time with me. He took me to one baseball game---1969, New York Yankees at Seattle Pilots. I was almost nineteen and we had a pretty good time. But he had no idea who Roger Maris, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Tony Kubek, or 'Moose' Skowron were. He had no idea of the rules of the game. He didn't know what it meant to be "up at bat" or what an "error" or a "hit" was. He just knew that I liked it and my mom made him take me as a high school graduation present. These all are old memories and they are still very painful. And I am still wondering why I became a thief at the age of eight and didn't stop until I was nearly twenty. But I do know this. My dad did what he could do. It wasn't good. It wasn't what I wanted nor what I needed. He was often a nasty tyrant. Both of my younger sisters and I were always scared of him. But you know----I learned a great deal from him. All positive. I learned about the kind of father I would be. I would play with my kids. I would hug them, tell them they were loved, lovingly discipline them, always stand my ground, and lead them. I would teach them to laugh, to understand that people are more important than things, that hard work is how we get what we want in life, but play and leisure are important, too. I had seen what a world without these things looked like. I wasn't going to continue the unhappiness. I feel pretty good about the outcome of my "once-upon-a-time" determination. Our kids are respectful, hard-working, well-educated, kind, caring and loving. They make many mistakes, but they admit them and learn from them. They give a great deal to life and they get a great deal from life. They both have made a huge difference in the lives of many others. And the best part of all---they love coming home. When we are all together, there is always laughing, teasing and joy all around. So I guess some might say that I hate my dad. But I don't, not really. Like I said, he did what he could do; he did what he knew. He was a good man, just not a good father. And I learned a lot from him. And you know what, I think I miss him.

Finding an Oasis

I am sitting in the Starbucks in the West Valley area of Yakima. It is just like all other Starbucks I have been in. However, it took me almost an hour to find it. Whereas in the greater Seattle area, one can find a Starbucks VERY easily, it is different here. I saw a few other, independent espresso stands, but no Starbucks. Perhaps coffee is not the first type of drink that Yakima-ites think of when the outdoor temperature is above 90 degrees!! Hence, not the same demand for countless numbers of Starbucks stores.

But now I'm here and I feel very comfortable. Whether one endorses Starbucks coffee or not, it is always nice to find a coffee "home away from home". I am tucked away in a corner, just my trusty laptop and me. And of course, my coffee. Now, I don't drink any of the many "foo-foo" drinks that Starbucks offers. No triple-shot, double-hot,non-fat,with no whip for me. If it takes longer than three seconds to order, I am not interested. "Tall drip, no room, please". One or two seconds and my order is taken. Another ten seconds and I have paid and my coffee is in my hand. But that's just me.

A coffee house is much different than a restaurant or a pub or any other gathering place. It is relaxed, fairly quiet and one can just sit and "be". In a restaurant, after food is consumed, one departs. Most people don't stay and visit very long after their meal is complete. In a pub, the longer the patrons stay, the rowdier and louder they get. The atmosphere there is not as comfortable for me as a coffee house. If you are with a friend, you can visit: no time limit. If you are alone: no time limit. If you are in a hurry, you can run in, order, pick up and leave. If you are hungry, you can order a small snack. It's my kind of place.

People have been relaxing with a "steamin' hot cup o' Joe" for centuries. And I know why!!

I Hate It When . . .

You know what I hate? I hate a lot of things. Hate is a very strong emotion and I try not to hate anything. But, to be honest, I do hate a lot of things. Here is a list of things that I hate. It is entirely possible that I hate more things than I have listed. Maybe I could list those items another time and perhaps by that time, I won't hate some of the items listed here. Yeah, right!!!

--I hate it when I am having a conversation with someone and I can see them suddenly lose interest in what I am saying. They keep nodding and saying, "Un-huh. Yes, I think so, too." But I KNOW they are no longer listening.

--I hate it when I have been assigned or have accepted a specific responsibility or job and someone else notices I have made a mistake and THEY correct it. Chances are good that they won't even say anything about my error. They will just fix it.

--I hate it when I allow other people to make me feel inferior.

--I hate "fair weather" sports fans. It takes a true fan to stay loyal to a team in a slump.

--I hate it when I have to say "No" to panhandlers. I really want to give them everything that they need.

--I hate it when I witness children being disrespectful to their parents.

--Even worse, I hate it when I witness parents being disrespectful to their children.

--I hate discourtesy and rudeness.

--I hate bad breath, especially my own!

--I hate it when I order a meal at the restaurant and the waitress brings me the wrong order and instead of telling her, I EAT IT ANYWAY!!

--I hate it that faraway, cigar smoke smells wonderful and up close it makes me retch!!

--I hate it when I strike up a conversation with an "old man" in line at the grocery store and find out that he and I were high school classmates!

I think I could go on and on about the things I hate. But I think I will stop here. After all, there are so many more things that I love. That would be a list of items that would be much more enjoyable to write.

It's A Wonderful Life

Just because I haven't written in the past few months, doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking about anything. It just means that I . . . well, maybe I haven't been thinking about too much. At least, not anything that I would want to write about. But this past weekend I had a new experience.

RaeLyn and I drove down to Longview to visit with our son and his family. He and his wife, Jill, have two daughters. Bailey is 5 and Madison is 3. Saturday was a very busy day for Bailey. She was playing her final tee-ball game of the season. She's not all that much "into" the game part of baseball. I think she likes the uniform and I know she likes her batting helmet--it came from her Daddy's high school team. But the game itself, you know, the hitting, fielding and throwing, for her they are not so important. She really likes the airplanes that fly over. Every once in awhile she even just sits down to take a rest! I think her favorite part is the team handshake at the end of the game. "Good game, good game, good game,(ad infinitum)." Then, it's off to the concession stand for the post-game treats. Then she needed to get home to play with Zoey, our daughter's Black Labrador puppy. Bailey adores Zoey and I think Zoey is kind of sweet on Bailey, too.

Later in the evening, Bailey was appearing in her first ballet recital. This was the sweetest and most touching event I have seen Bailey participate in yet. She was dressed in her beautiful pink and rainbow tutu, pink flowers in her hair, which was pulled back in ballerina fashion. When she and her dance-mates came on stage, I immediately teared up. Here was my oldest grandchild, so beautiful and innocent, giving her "all" to dance with her group. She was so intense and so delightful, at the same time. It was a moment I don't think I will ever forget!!

However, there was almost a disaster. What is it that all star ballerinas expect at the end of a long evening on the ballet stage?? Why flowers, of course! Her Daddy was not aware of this and he and I had to race out to Safeway (that paragon of high-class flowerdom)to get a beautiful bouquet of flowers. We arrived in time so that Dad and ballerina-daughter could get their photo taken. It was truly priceless!

It made me see how the generations just keep going. It wasn't all that long ago (at least it doesn't seem like all that long ago)that I was about 30 and going to our son's first baseball game. And believe it or not, just a few years later, we even went to watch Julie play soccer!! And now, it's our granddaughter who is learning and playing and dancing. "Time stops for no man." I don't know who said that, but it is sure true.

Ten minutes ago I was 32 years old, a young choral teacher with two little kids and a beautiful wife. Now I am 60 years old, retired, balding, losing my hearing, a bit overweight (!!) and watching my grandchildren play. But you know what?? I still have that same beautiful wife. I am really blessed!!!

The Blessing of Friendship

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!

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 . . ."

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

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!!!

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!!

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!

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."

Moving Slowly

It has been quite some time since I last sat down to write. I have missed it very much but never felt like I had much to say. Maybe my life is just moving along rather slowly right now. Or maybe I am allowing life to sink in a little more before I respond to things. Not sure.

So for now, I am just moving slow and thinking even slower so that I can truly experience, feel and think. Check back in a few days to see if I have begun to speed up. Until then, I am going to keep on keeping on!!

Darrel, My Mentally Ill Friend

Although I am retired, I work full-time for Compass Health. This is a community-based mental health agency which serves Snohomish, Skagit and Island Counties. I am a courier; I pick up and deliver client files and medications, inter-office mail and some U.S. mail. My route is fairly regular and I really enjoy the peaceful driving, about 225 miles daily.

Often I meet some of the clients that are utilizing the services of Compass Health. Depending on the services provided by a particular clinic, I may meet a drug addict, someone who is suffering from a mild depression, a schizophrenic who speaks to people who are not there or perhaps a person suffering bi-polar disease and simply cannot hold a job.

Most of these people need money, many need a place to live and they all need a smiling face. That is what I try to provide. I can tell that many of them are used to being treated like they are less than human. I don't do anything more than say "Hello" or "How's it goin'". But I always wait to hear their response. And they usually have one, too!

During my first day of training for the job (three years ago)I was introduced to Darrel. He works part-time at one of the larger facilities, where he is also a client. He is usually unkempt, with a few days growth of beard. He was friendly, though and quite talkative. I liked him.

About a week after I started driving the route alone, Darrel met me at the door and greeted me, "Pat Castro, how you doing?" We talked for maybe a minute or so and then I went about my business. As I drove away, I noticed that I felt different than when I arrived. It was Darrel! He changed my mood. I felt lighter, happier!

Over the next months, he told me that he was married. His wife is mentally ill, too. She must stay on her medication or very traumatic things begin to happen. Occasionally, she stops taking her meds. The first time, Darrel told me she had been gone for a month and he had no idea where she was! After another month he told me that she had finally called and she was in an institution. She had been found wandering and she was a mess. Each time Darrel told me about her, he would quote scripture. This man who looks like a bum, knows the Bible and has a personal faith in and relationship with Jesus Christ. He asked me to pray for Frannie,his wife. I said I would and he went off about his business.

She eventually came home and is doing fine now. I mean, she is taking her meds and is pretty stable. Darrel is a bit of a rascal and he is sometimes vulgar and uses a lot of profanity, though he never takes the Lord's name in vain.

My purpose in writing this is to try to understand why I love this guy so much. He is usually dirty, hair is gross-looking, he is constantly smoking and his favorite word is 'f_ _ _'. One day he had forgotten where he left his false teeth so he was toothless that day!!! But you know what, he is a wonderful, loving and caring man. He works at a job, he drives a car, he takes care of his wife (who is African-American. Darrel is white) and keeps an eye out for his mentally ill friends. What more is there in life than to work at a job, care for those you are close to and thank God for what you have?

I have learned a great deal from Darrel. My education is a very important part of my life and I spent my entire adult life trying to help others become life-long learners. But I have a deep and abiding respect and love for this mentally ill man, who has very little formal education and for whom life is exceedingly difficult. He trusts in God, believing He has a plan for him and knows the love of Jesus. What did I ever do to deserve a friendship with such a fine human being?? I can only assume that this has come by the "Grace of God Almighty".

The next time you see a bum, a hobo, a retard, a drunk, a homeless person, or a bag-lady, please think of my friend, Darrel. Those people are exactly that, they are people; like you and me. They have a story, they have a family, they have needs and dreams and all the same hopes as you and I. Pray for them. Just care.

Count Your Blessings

Last Friday, September 3, 2010, RaeLyn and I celebrated our 39th wedding anniversary. It is a wonderful milestone and we spent the weekend having a very enjoyable time in Leavenworth and Wenatchee, Washington. A glass of champagne, a beautiful red rose and a lot of laughing. It was very nice!

It made me think about what I am truly thankful for in this world. Almighty God has blessed me over and over and over in this life. However, I am most thankful for three blessings.

RaeLyn: We met in high school, in Spanish I class. From the first day of school we stared at each other. Eventually, we got to know one another a bit. We "went together" throughout high school and even into college. We married very young (I was 20 and she was 19). We both have done an incredible amount of growing and learning and exploring in our years together. She is, as most successful wives are, the strength of our family. Little would happen in our house were it not for her. She not only has my undying love, but my utmost respect. I thank God for her every day.

Jason: While I was teaching band in Dayton, Washington, we were performing in Pomeroy, Washington for a band festival. RaeLyn was pregnant with our first child. When the band bus arrived back at the high school, about 11:00 PM, our good friend, Jan, walked over to my room (she and her husband, Gordon, our best friends, lived across the street from the band room)and told me that RaeLyn had called and she needed to be taken to the hospital. Gordon had taken her. I rushed off to Dayton General Hospital and at 4:15 AM on March 15, 1978, our oldest child, Jason Patrick, was born. He changed our lives forever. He has brought nothing but joy, honor and blessing into our lives. He is the "jock" in our family and we have attended MANY athletic events in his support. He is now a highly respected high school teacher and coach (2010 2A Washington State Baseball Coach of the Year!!!). He is also the husband of a wonderful wife and Daddy to two beautiful daughters. I thank God for him and them every day.

Julie: Julie entered our world in 1982. We were living in Port Townsend. Her brother was very proud and very protective. We went to the park, we spent time at the beach. We went on picnics. We took up an interest in tent-camping. We all laughed together, played together and worshiped together. We were (and still are) a complete family. Julie was an honor-ladened art student in high school and still has a piece hanging in the Snohomish Public Library. Through college she continued her growth in becoming a very accomplished and uniquely creative artist. She is very much a person who thinks "outside the box". Her art is moving and deep. Her personality is warm, loving and delightful. She is a startlingly lovely woman and I am so proud of who she is and what she stands for. To her, I am "Pops" and to me, she is still "my little girl". I thank God for her every day.

Of course, there are so many blessing we experience in this life and to select only three might be a bit selfish. But I am certain that God knows my heart and He knows that I am grateful for all the many blessings that He has put in my life. And were He not to know this, He could read my blog!!!

Spouting Off

Alright, that's it--I have had it!! I know many people will say that I am opinionated, narrow-minded and old-fashioned. I don't care, I've had it!

I figure that I have heard the American national anthem over 2,000 times in the past 30 years. What with all the sporting events I have attended as a spectator and as Official Scorer for the Everett AquaSox, I must have heard at least that many.

At yesterday's AquaSox game I heard it again; it was horrible!!! Wrong words (it's 'perilous' NOT 'perolis', o'er' NOT 'for') wrong notes (hard to describe, I have heard it more and more with a half-step where there should be a whole-step in the ascending scale that occurs three times in the song), show-off key (started way too high and then had to scream to complete the song).

Oh, and by the way, the American national anthem is not jazz, pop, rock, rhythm & blues, or any other contemporary style. It is not being performed for an individual to share with a large audience how great a singer they are. It is not being sung for the self-aggrandizement of the singer. The purpose of the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner is to remind all those in attendance how very fortunate we all are to be able to attend that event in peace.That's all; it's not a time reserved for the singer to mock the song by inventing a new rendition. Sing it right, that is, honorably, and get off the field!!!

If you are going to sing it, learn the words and what they mean! It is poetry, not everyday language and if you are going to sing it, then learn the poetic words and their meanings. If you don't mean what it says, don't sing it! Millions of men and women died for you to have the honor of living in a country that is free of oppression. Millions more sacrificed their lives, even though they lived through combat.

I have sung this song many, many times. It was an honor to do so each and every time. I love this song and what it stands for. I am one of those who did not serve in the military but I am deeply grateful to every single person who did. This is my small way of thanking them.

The next time someone sings this song at a sporting event, I hope they remember that it is not 'ABOUT THEM'!!!

The Gospel According to Castro

If your young children are in the habit of reading this blog, you need to do two things:
1. help them get a life
2. shield their eyes from some of the profanity I am about to use

I am so damn sick and tired of the Mariners losing ball games at the last minute, I could just spit! They did it again tonight. That damn David Aardsma was pitiful in relief. He is supposed to be a major league pitcher - how come he can't throw strikes?? What a bunch of crap!

And offense?? I tell you what, their inability to score runs is absolutely unacceptable! I think their upper-management people should be fired immediately. Seriously!! This is just bull_ _ _ _ !!!

Now, the real topic of my tirade. You know who I am even more sick of??? Fans who are not fans at all!! They are no more than immature, self-centered babies! Their team doesn't win so they have all the answers. They think that the Mariners' upper-management people should be fired immediately!! And they whine about the pitching and the offense being so weak.

Now, before you point your finger at me, let me say this: I haven't missed a game in at least six years, I watch them all. (Just ask RaeLyn, the Queen of Sainthood.) I am a baseball fan and my favorite major league team is the Seattle Mariners. End of discussion.

Baseball is a game. One team wins and one team loses. There are players and they play. Sometimes they play well and sometimes they play less than well. There are umpires. Sometimes (most of the time) they make the right call and sometimes they don't. All of these folks are people, not automatons, nor robots. They are doing the very best that they can at that moment. And by gosh, I hope they win. But when they don't, although I may be angry, they are still my team.

If you don't like the Mariners, that's fine. Then choose a different team to support. But don't you ever give up on your team! Real fans don't ever give up. They just "wait'll next year!!"

Happy Birthday, Dad (Louis S. Castro 1923-1994)

Today would have been your 87th birthday. And very unlike many of the past years at this time, I would like to wish you a Happy Birthday. You and I never seemed to have ever gotten onto "the same page." You were all about 'work' and 'responsibility' and because of that, I was always about 'play' and 'taking it easy'. You know, you could have backed off a little. It really might have helped us a bit. And you know, it sure would have been nice if you could have played catch with me or taken me to a movie or concert or game or whatever once in a while. On the other hand, I guess I could have been a little more understanding. But I wasn't and you didn't. Perhaps it was the cross that we both had to endure.

RaeLyn and I have two wonderful kids, Jason (32) and Julie (27). Jason is married and has two little girls, Bailey (4) and Madison (2). They are very smart and very cute. Both Jason and his wife, Jill are teachers; he at the high school level and she at the elementary. Both of them hold a Master's degree. He is also the baseball coach and he's very good, Dad!! He was actually voted the 2A Washington State High School Baseball Coach of the Year this year. We are all so very proud of him. He has a wonderful sense of humor and is way smarter than his dad ever was!!

Julie is also a college graduate and is employed at a physical therapy clinic in Everett, as the office manager. She runs a tight ship, Dad, and they love her!! Her fiance, Tyler, is a fine young man who is hoping to become a teacher soon. And they will be married within the next year or so. (I will sure miss her! She is just a delight to be around---just like her Mom!)I know you would have loved her very much!

RaeLyn is still teaching Preschool with Head Start. She is so good with the little ones and they sure love her. She is really looking forward to retirement soon, though. Her job is very demanding and it really takes a toll on her.

I retired from teaching 5 years ago and work now for a mental health agency in Everett as a courier. It is a good job for me and I like the driving. The money comes in handy and it keeps me busy. I really loved teaching music and I honestly found some success there. I really think I was a help for some kids and that makes me feel good.

You know, Dad, although you and I were never much for being friends, I do miss having you around from time to time. I see other men who still have their dads around and I am jealous for that blessing. When I spend time with Jason I realize how much he has to be thankful for. I am not "blowing my own horn" as a dad, but just noticing that Jason still has his father around. I guess in that sense, I miss you.

I thank God, Dad, that you brought me into this world. I am very sorry that we never got to honestly and truly know one another and I look forward to the day that that can happen. You know how much I love baseball (yes, I still love it!!!!). I hope that when the time comes for us to join you, you will take in a game or two with Jason and me. We'd love to have you. Happy Birthday!

Success is Where You Make It

We all have dreams. You know, dreams for the future - what we would like to do with our lives. I was wondering today what it is that pushes each of us toward a particular dream for our lives. What is it that causes us to want to become a fireman or doctor or teacher? Is it our environment at home? Teachers? Friends? Church teachings? I don't know. But what I do know is that we do not have to be raised in the big, bustling city to be successful.

My first teaching job was in a very small Eastern Washington town called Dayton. At that time, Dayton was very busy for a community of about 2,800 folks. Although they produced a lot of wheat, they also employed many people at the Green Giant vegetable canning company. You remember them, "Ho, ho, ho---Green Giant"!! My teaching assignment was four band classes (grade 4 - 12) and one choir (grad 10 - 12). The kids I had were, on the whole, really great and I truly enjoyed them.

One of the classes we did not have in the daily schedule was a jazz band. So I decided that we would start one that would meet after school and maybe we could convince the principal to eventually offer it during the school day. Immediately I had a student ask me if he could play the electric bass. I told him we did not own one and that I really knew nothing about teaching it. He insisted that his parents would buy him a bass and an amplifier. They would even get him lessons!! I could not argue with that. So I said that he could play electric bass. Well, the rest is history. He did very well over the next two years. He played bass ALL the time. He absolutely loved it.

Todd was his name. He went on to become one of the world's finest electric bass players. No really, he truly is a world renowned six-string bass player. He lives in southern California and teaches and travels all over the world. He has written books and has produced teaching DVDs. He even teaches bass lessons online. And he started playing bass in a beginning jazz band in a small wheat-farming community in the middle of nowhere.

But the story does not end there. He was not the only one who had a dream and made it happen. There were many others from my stay in Dayton (only four years) that went on to find an important and successful niche in life. I know I will leave many of them out, but these people come to mind: there is Joe the Ph.D in Pharmacy, Rick the Psychology professor at Idaho State University, there is Ken the Radiology Tech and Jennie who runs the Port of Columbia. There is Vicki who runs her own beauty salon, Steve who is an electrical engineer and his wife, Jeannie, who is an Early Childhood Education professor at Washington State University. Keith is a Network Analyst and Scott coaches high school girls' basketball. There is Taffy who is a Property Manager and there are even three music teachers: Kim, Sharli and Liz. Becky is doing her part to keep our children in safe homes as she works as a social worker and there is Heidi, the physician. Many others, whose names and jobs escape me came from Dayton. I really wish I could remember them all!!

I knew all these people as clarinet, flute, trumpet, sax, trombone and tuba players. There is even a drummer in there. All these people grew up in a community of folks who really cared about offering something important to life. I miss those people and I miss those days. They were good people. People who cared about one another.

One of these days I am going to find a way to see them all again and visit with them. I want to tell them how proud I am of them and how honored I was and am to have been allowed to be their leader for a short time.

Dayton is a place for which I have a special place in my heart. It's a lot smaller now since Green Giant left town. But the people who still live there are the same folks who I remember from the mid-1970's. When I left Dayton, I moved on to bigger things and more advanced musical performers. But the people from Dayton were and are still in my heart. I guess "Once a Bulldog, always a Bulldog!"