Life is just one damned
thing after another.
--Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)
It's not true that life
is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)
When you have a problem,
life is the same damn thing over and over. When you no longer have a
problem, life is one damn thing after another.
-- John H. Weakland (1919 - 1995)
I must like the second quotation, because my mother taught it to me as
a boy, and it has always been at my fingertips (although, I will admit,
I thought for a long time it was Sartre, or Camus, or some other French
philosopher who said it, rather than an American author). It seems to
float to the top of my consciousness every two years or so (
2008,
2010).
Previously, it came to mind during the long slog from Martin Luther
King's Birthday to Spring Break, This time, it came to mind during the
fall slog.
If like is like a football game, than blogging is the recording of the
long, spectacular passes; the ones that are easy to see, beautiful to
behold and often game changers. But as anyone who has played on a
football line (Benson High, left tackle, JV) knows, games are won not
by the flash, but in the ground game, where you grind out unspectacular
gains, get a first down every three plans, and "suddenly" find yourself
at the goal line. Alas, the analogy breaks down because of the
difficulty of defining "win the game" and "goal line" in the context of
human life. Plus, while death is inevitable, scoring in football is
not. In any case, it is hard to blog the ground game.
As I said in 2008, a year after I almost died in a car crash, I try
hard to be grateful for every day of my life. I mean, I was before, but
just not as explicitly as I am now. And if I've learned nothing else
from my younger daughter, I've learned that you spend time, but should
never kill it, because it is too valuable.
Most of my time and mental energy goes to my half-time job. I promise
to give my students my best every day, and I do. I ask them to give me
their best every day, and sometimes they do. For 180 school days every
year, we dance in a dance marathon (to try another analogy). It is a
marathon, certainly not a sprint (to drag in a third analogy). We go as
fast as we can, but not so fast as to collapse before the finish line
(as in a race). We help each other out and try to cheer each other up
so we can finish (like in a dance marathon). As for the rest of my
life, it consists of the love of my family, my friends, and my God. The
Beatles were right; Love is All You Need.
There! Did that disguise the fact that nothing much happened this week
(that I can talk about), aside from a couple of dinner parties we threw
at the house?