Row, Men, Row

Tonight, I spoke at a NAMI Family to Family group, support for people with a family member with a mental illness. I wandered through an elementary school near Sandpoint looking for my room. I saw dioramas in one hall and beautiful sketches of pens in another. A boy named Finn had this poem featured in a display:

Owls hooting
Weird monsters
Laughter in the windows
Superheroes

I also liked one by Lily B.

Dark
Awesome
Radical
Kindle the fireplace

I loved grade school, except for second grade when I had a teacher who didn't care much for children. Mrs. Satcher in third grade was marvelous, a kind face, alight with interest. Mr. Bartlett in Fifth was a bear-like man who at the end of the day used to rub his back luxuriously up and down on the door post of the door and lead us in a countdown as the seconds ticked by ... 10, 9, 8, 7... and then, at the bell, let us rush out pellmell. I finally found my group. Gave my talk, did a Q and A, and went home. Tried to go home. Missed three buses. Was challenged by my directional dyslexia. Couldn't figure out what side of the street to be on. Sang old spirituals and car songs to myself for an hour. Row, men, row to save this Jonah, row, men, row to save this Jonah... My parents, sisters, brother, foster brothers and I used to sing that song and others in the car all the time when I was in grade school. Got nostalgic about that. It's nice when I can hang out in the good of my childhood.