When listening and reading Kennedy’s nomination acceptance speech at the 1960 Democrtic National Convention, it is actually somewhat freaky how relevant his words are today.  I think Obama could take the speech and swap “terrorist” for “communist” and “McCain” for “Nixon” and almost read it word for word.

Well, except for the part where he calls his opponent young.

This part gives me chills.

Perhaps he could carry on the party policies, the policies of Nixon and Benson and Dirksen and Goldwater. But this Nation cannot afford such a luxury. Perhaps we could afford a Coolidge following Harding. And perhaps we could afford a Pierce following Fillmore. But after Buchanan this nation needed Lincoln; after Taft we needed Wilson; and after Hoover we needed Franklin Roosevelt.

But we’re not merely running against Mr. Nixon. Our task is not merely one of itemizing Republican failures. Nor is that wholly necessary. For the families forced from the farm do not need to tell us of their plight. The unemployed miners and textile workers know that the decision is before them in November. The old people without medical care, the families without a decent home, the parents of children without a decent school: They all know that it’s time for a change.

We are not here to curse the darkness; we are here to light a candle. As Winston Churchill said on taking office some twenty years ago: If we open a quarrel between the present and the past, we shall be in danger of losing the future.

Give it a listen.

Preparing for marriage is hard.

There… I said it.  Step one, right?

I’m not just talking about figuring out reception seating arrangements and hoping for clear skies for our outdoor ceremony.  I’m also talking about the actual preparation going on between me and my bride-to-be.  I struggle with treating her like some kind of object that I need to fulfill my needs.  I’ve struggled with that for as long as I can remember.

I can easily recall my single days and the constant voice in the back of my head that kept reminding me that if I were to find someone, I would be completely happy and fulfilled.  Instead of digging deeper into that feeling of incompleteness, I could go on with my day and feel like I had figured out the answer.  All I needed was another person.  It doesn’t take too much probing to realize that I was not looking for a future wife… I was looking for an object.  A product that could magically take care of all of my needs.

I still struggle with that approach to life - both with my fiance and pretty much everything else.  My friends, my job, my possessions - pretty much everything in my life that at one time or another I have appreciated solely for the fulfillment that they bring me.  Specifically with me, this objectifying manifests itself within my relationships with women.

It’s hard for me to come to grips with the fact that I so easily have objectified women in the past, and I’m sure that it is a struggle I will continue to have.  It’s a struggle that I have to acknowledge and steadfastly work against.  When I look at marriages that are ripped apart by infidelity, I wonder if it is because the marriage itself was created to fill a need.  I wonder if the marriage stopped providing that fulfillment - even temporarily.  It makes it so easy to justify searching elsewhere.

So the question is, what else could fill that emptiness?  What else could erase that void?

I heard a guy say last night that true happiness is found by looking within yourself.  I was not amused.  Yourself?  That is the exact kind of thinking that leads right back to objectifying your friends, your significant other, your job, or whatever else might provide the temporary satisfaction you need to function.  I don’t understand at all the thinking behind believing that if you think about and want fulfillment enough, it will magically happen.

But maybe I’m the crazy one.  Maybe I’m the only one that struggles with finding it easier to plug others into my life to give me the fulfillment I need.  Maybe it means I should be a politician.

I’m glad that people are talking about the recent decision by Dunkin Donuts to pull an ad featuring Rachel Ray in a scarf that some random nut with a blog deemed too similar to a keffiyeh.

This xenophobic hate mongerer wasted no time in linking the scarf, which apparently was a floral print available at a major US retail chain, to terrorism. You see, to the blogger, the keffiyeh is not worn because it protects the wearer from the sun in an arid climate and can quickly be adjusted to protect the face from wind. No, the keffiyeh apparently identifies the wearer as a terrorist. Seriously, only a terrorist could consistently whip up tasty looking meals in 30 minutes and still look like… actually, I better not post the picture I found when I googled Rachel Ray.

Regardless of the appearance of Rachel’s scarf, what is more concerning to me is the implied idea that xenophobia can completely control what we are exposed to. If you are sitting there, watching tv, and Rachel’s commercial comes on and you say to yourself, “Man, the scarf looks like a keffiyeh! I refuse to support a business with a commercial featuring a keffiyeh!” that’s your decision. It’s ridiculous, but if you and a bunch of other folks decide not to go to Dunkin Donuts because of it, well, have fun with that.

But because some blogger calls attention to it, the corporation decides to pull it? There is something deeply troubling about that. You want to talk about the degradation of our society? Look no farther than power-obsessed fake celebrities that somehow gain notoriety for being a valuable contributer to political discussions that use their perceived soapbox to tear down the very fabric of our society.

Yes, all of this over a commercial for a donut company. I hope said blogger continues to be exposed until her credibility is destroyed beyond recognition. Unfortunately, I feel the enemies of the great society we could become will continue to support the nuts with keyboards that decide being drunk on their own power is more important than common sense.

So here’s how I’m starting to understand this country…

1) Pastors are only allowed to mention the work of the government if they are asking God to bless America or somehow supporting the efforts of the current administration

2) Any effort to curtail the proliferation of guns in our society is reckless work of a bloated government, but using the legislatures and courts to define marriage is acceptable

3) Do not, under any circumstances, take part in anything that remotely resembles the Middle East. If you do, you are supporting terrorists that could and will strike at any moment.

Thank goodness we got that cleared up!

The first wedding I can remember was for my dad’s cousin Ken and his wife Alice. I don’t remember much except the big wooden pews. There are some great pictures of me (the ring bearer) and the flower girl and a few stories of the echoing effect produced by farting on said big wooden pews, but those are mainly reserved for rehashing each year when we get together at Christmas.

Then there was my cousin Mary Ellen. I think I was in high school and I remember arguing with my mom about wearing shorts to the wedding. My mom, as usual, was probably right. I think my brother and I both wore shorts anyway, which surprisingly enough turned out not to be a big deal.

I remember Sally Spencer, a friend from high school, getting married while I was in college. I made it back and felt a little out of place because it was the first time I was giving a card to a newly married couple and I had no idea what to write. I imagined them reading my well thought out nugget of wisdom and forever changing their outlook on life. Instead, I got nervous and scribbled something about a path always rising to meet the sun shining on their backs and thought about not signing my name at all. I got a thank you card in the mail several weeks later with a note from Sally thanking me for coming and I just assumed she was moved beyond words by my card inscription. Looking back, it’s probably more likely that whatever I wrote was complete jiberish and unreadable.

Since college, I’ve had the chance to attend and participate in some amazing weddings. Geoff and Becca encouraging me to start the slow clap before her procession down the aisle will forever be one of the greatest memories and stories recorded in wedding lore. I remember saying to Geoff, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if right before Becca comes down the aisle, someone stands up and starts the slow clap, and then a few other people stand up and join in until the entire church is clapping like crazy?!” Next thing I know, Becca has completely bought into the idea and, well, there was no way of stopping it.

I’ve been lucky enough to stand up as a groomsmen for two brides - my friend Rachel and my cousin Melissa. It was tough to explain how I knew the groom when folks asked, but pretty cool at the same time. Rachel’s brother-in-law’s speech at the reception is seared into my brain. If you’re curious, you can ask me about it sometime.

Then there was Joel and Jen’s wedding, all located on the W family farm. There were moments when we worried about a runaway golf cart possibly killing attendees, but the entire event managed to go off without a single fatality! There was even karaoke with a version of “You Give Love a Bad Name” that pretty much rocked… mainly because Joel’s air guitar was so amazing it actually made grown men weep. If it was not Joel’s wedding, there is no doubt he could have taken any single woman in attendance for his own.

Since moving to Chicago, it seems like every other Saturday in the summer has been taken up by the celebration of nuptials. Each ceremony has so perfectly matched the couple - from outdoor weddings in the park with cornhole and volleyball to candle lit sanctuaries.

I think it was through a combination of all of these ceremonies that I began to truly understand the importance of marriage. Through a sacrificial submission to one another, two people stand in front of loved ones and express an emotion and commitment to one another that is the closest they will ever get to the love God has for us. In a fallen world that at times is overwhelmingly pessimistic, a man and woman decide to buck the trend and join together in a holy union that is only possible because of the death and resurrection of Christ.

The past couple of months have been heavy on my heart and soul. I’ve been wrestling with the idea of what it means to be one part of that union. What do I have to sacrifice? What do I have to gain? Will I ever be able to play Halo again? These are just a few of the questions that ran through my head.

But each time I would take these thoughts to God or to one of my close friends, I would hear the same things. My married guy friends confirmed that yes, you do sacrifice a lot. You probably will have to give up a large chunk of Halo time, they confessed. But they assured me that somehow it all is worth it.

So, being the mature person I am, I shake my head and give them a wink. I know what makes it worth it.

Apparently though, much to my surprise, it’s not just the sex that makes it worth it. I’m not sure what else it could be, but apparently there’s much more to experience.

That being said, what became so clear to me in the past couple of weeks was that I have found a person that I want to experience all of the new pieces of life that my friends referred to. I found the girl that I want to sacrifice for and love and even do her laundry (occasionally). So, on Sunday, after a walk through the park near my house, I asked Sarah to make that commitment to me. And she accepted.

This is a surreal feeling and the page is just starting to be turned. What awaits us in the coming months and years is completely unpredictable, but thankfully there are many who have gone ahead of us and seem to speak highly of the adventure.

Plus, she said we can register for a Wii. This girl is awesome.

Getting out of the city for a long weekend is always a welcome treat, especially after the winter we just had. I don’t know if I can remember a winter that has lasted so long or has been so consistently cold and I’d prefer it if the city could make sure it doesn’t happen again. I figure I’m paying enough in taxes and parking tickets, the least the city could do is give me a few days above the 30 degree mark.

Anyway, it was pretty great spending the weekend with Sarah and some great friends in West Virginia. Watching my friend Corey get married was something I never expected in my lifetime, but leave it to him to defy my expectations. It was a great morning ceremony with a brunch reception, and honestly, does it get better than pancakes at a wedding reception?

I think not.

Coming back to the city was a dose of reality. The warm weather brought with it a wave of gun violence. Already this year too many Chicago Public School students have been gunned down - some targeted, some random. Growing up in southeast Ohio, gun violence is a rarity and when it does happen, the entire region is in shock. Here in Chicago, you quickly become desensitized to it until numbers start popping up in the paper like, “24 CPS students killed so far this year,” or, “36 shootings, 9 killed.” By then the weight of the situation is overwhelming.

The answer, I fear, is much more complicated than the gun legislation being called for by the mayor. The guns being used to commit these acts are not legal in Chicago, but regardless, the question needs to be asked - why are folks seeking these guns out to commit these acts? What is it the convinces kids in our schools that academic success is not a viable option?

Since joining the staff and collective effort of Teach For America, I’ve heard some very valid weaknesses of our two-year program that brings talented college graduates into our nation’s most under-resourced classrooms. I can understand the worry among traditional career teachers, but I have to ask - what else are they doing? Are they moving into a severely under-resourced district with a tradition of weak student test scores and applying for a job? If they are taking those steps, are they walking into their classrooms expecting their students to perform as high, if not higher, than their suburban counterparts?

That’s what our corps members are doing. They walk into classrooms full of students with low test scores with a sense of possibility and the energy needed to walk in step with their students. It’s what I see in my friends that teach here in the city, and principals and superintendents need to have the power to weed out the teachers that fall short.

Education is certainly not the only key to turning around this resurgence in violence, but it surely is a good start. We have to start fighting the overwhelming helplessness and cynicism that pollutes our conversations and efforts to turn the tide. Now if we could just find more leaders in our districts and schools that are willing to demand every decision be made with the best interest of students in mind… now that would be revolutionary.

You ever come across one of those random websites that you realize you need to share with everyone you know so they can all join in on the joke?

Oh, you don’t? You think that’s weird? Wait, you think I’m weird? Well forget you, then.

No really, come back. You need to see this. It’s hilarious. Yes, funnier than the last thing on the internet I ‘had to share.’

I promise. You will laugh. You see, about 10 years ago… hey, where are you going? Get back here!

Yes, I’ll make it quick.

Anyway, I came to a weird realization. Garfield comics… are not really funny. At all. In fact, they’re somewhat depressing.

I don’t care if Odie makes you laugh.

Yes, but, what would happen if every character was removed from the strip except for Jon Arbuckle?

No! You would end up with this!

Seriously… Garfield… without Garfield!

I think this is my favorite.

Nope… I spoke too quickly. This is my favorite:

I can too have two favorites!

Or three!

Who doesn’t love weird humor on the internet?!

I wonder if Stuff White People Like did a post about Garfield Minus Garfield, would the internet just collapse at the sheer awesomeness?

For the past week, I’ve been repeatedly accused of being deceived. I’m being won over by slick words and pretty speeches, rather than solid policy proposals. It’s interesting and somewhat perplexing to listen to television pundits, editorial writers, and even people I know tell me I am lacking the ability to think independently.

And apparently it’s not only me. Millions of young people are being told they don’t understand politics. We’re the “Facebook” crowd, as Hillary Clinton’s chief strategist called us, “only a few of [us] look like [we] could vote in any state.”

Of course, we see how that worked out in Iowa. Catching pretty much everyone not paying attention to Obama off-guard, the young vote that’s been sought after for the past few elections finally showed up. The same vote that could have spared this country 8 years of G.W., the same vote that was pretty much sworn off, made it to the Iowa caucuses and turned some heads.

I think what cracks me up more than anything is that one of the first points I hear in the argument accusing me of being deceived is that all Obama does is go out and make pretty speeches. He’s naive and his supports are too. We don’t understand the complexities of world affairs and the best approach to handle issues like terrorism or the global economy, and Obama glosses over these items in his well-spoken speeches.

While I can’t deny that Obama’s speeches are light on content and heavy on inspiration, I’m stuck wondering who among the major candidates of either party are giving us in depth views on specific policy ideas they would enact. When, ever, have the primaries been the time to be heavy on content? The answer is never! The purpose of the primaries is to simply energize your base and convince voters that you understand the issues that need to be addressed as president and that you are ready to take them on. If you highlight enough issues that strike a chord with voters, pretty soon you see your delegate count rise as people say to themselves, “wow, this candidate understands what I’m struggling with and is ready to take them on.”

And is it really that bad of an approach? Why is it a problem when a candidate seeks to inspire people? If any candidate took time to lay down policy after policy after policy, they’d quickly find themselves at the bottom of the polls and without an invitation to televised debates. The majority of the American electorate does not want to have to digest anything. Why do you think Ron Paul is quickly becoming the Libertarian version of Nader? (insert Tracy Jordan line from “30 Rock”… “I think I voted for Nader… NADER!”)

Believe it or not, Obama and his team have pulled together ideas and policies to approach some of the biggest issues our government faces. The struggle I keep finding is that the people accusing me of being deceived don’t want to have an actual discussion. They want to be the cool people that make fun of the bandwagon-jumpers, but don’t want to hear that someone of us made our decision with clear, educated, rational thought.

So, anyway, that being said, I am effectively suspending my campaign for president and officially endorsing Barack Obama.

Well folks, here it is. The introspective, reflective, cliché sap-fest of a list of lessons learned over the past year. It might be interesting to look at previous versions of this list to see if I’m still learning the same lessons over multiple years, but that would most likely be slightly depressing. That being said, I’ll pretend this is the first such list and deny any part in the creation of previous similar writings.

A serious relationship with a great girl who luckily doesn’t take me too seriously, my brother officially graduating from my alma mater, and a complete change in careers after almost two years at DePaul were probably the big three developments of 2007. While my brother’s graduation was expected, the other two were surprises to even me. Who knew a friendly dinner with a girl could turn into… well… something much bigger? I know she reads this blog and is going to tell me I’m a sappy nerd after reading this, but she’ll get over it. I’ve never been the quickest when it comes to reading signs of interest from the opposite sex, which I suppose could explain my struggles in sending appropriate signs as well. Sarah was no different. Our stories differ quite a bit, but suffice it to say, somewhere around early February I had a couple dates with the girl and realized she was interesting and laughed at my jokes. I was hooked.

Somewhere in the first half of 2007, I realized that my personal life wasn’t the only part of me that needed to stretch and grow. A conversation with the VP of my department at DePaul, where I was basically told the main reason I accepted the job and moved to Chicago was not really something he considered part of the long-term plan, had me casually glancing at the idealist.org job list. Before I knew it, I was wrapped up in an interview process and accepting an offer to head back into the non-profit world. The first few months had me questioning my decision to leave the friendly confines of a role I understood to find myself overwhelmed and underqualified. Somehow things have worked out and the moments of feeling overwhelmed come less frequently, but I can say that the move was a smart one. I do miss my admissions family and the always-entertaining conversations with high schoolers, but there’s a lot of growth and potential that are keeping me on track in my current role.

As for my brother, well, it’s pretty cool to watch a younger sibling walk across the same stage I did four years earlier. There were a few new faces, but it was great to catch up with faculty and staff and feel confident that my brother’s education was in good hands. I still didn’t know the words to the alma mater, but to see the whole day in a new light and spend it with my family was a welcome trip back to the Hill. Now in his first year of teaching, it’s going to be great watching him develop and adjust to adulthood.

Other lessons from 2007:

• If Jud tells me something is potent… say, his egg nog… I will listen to the guy and cap myself somewhere around the 2-3 cups range;
• Also - if Jud is bbqing, I’m there;
• One more about Jud - the guy is a safe bet when crazy things happen, like car windows falling into the door frame;
• Managing a rec league team takes up way too much time and causes a lot of stress;
• Adjusting plans to see Over the Rhine’s Christmas concert is always a good idea;
• Speaking of concerts - when your favorite band is doing a farewell tour, it’s OK to put out of a few extra bucks to see them from decent seats… even if they appear emotionally drained;
• One more about concerts - taking the chance that Ryan Adams is going to have a good show is worth it;
• Driving a couple of hours out of my way to play golf with my dad and brother is never a bad idea;
• Never turn down a free ticket to a baseball game;
• When a car starts making any noises that aren’t normal, get it looked at sooner rather than later;
• Always appreciate someone who buys Bell’s for you;
• Michigan has a few redeeming qualities;
• People come and go, so make sure to enjoy having them around while you can;
• Bickering and complaining doesn’t accomplish much;
• My church family is full of surprises and apparently knows how to put on a good potluck;
• Watching so many friends take on adulthood is… kind of cool… and makes me think I might have a shot… someday;
• <sap alert> Roadtrips are a lot cooler with a girl who falls asleep on your shoulder</sap alert>;
• If you have the chance to take a long weekend and get out of the city, do it;
• Leaving the city reminds you how much you miss stars;
• The American Girl store is a creepy, creepy place;
• When friends are in Chicago, make time for them;
• Always appreciate people who contribute greatly to your life and make sure they know it while you can;
• and… some people in Chicago take kickball way too seriously.

That’s it for 2007… I’m guessing 2008 will have some pretty great highlights. Here’s hoping I can remember some of these lessons over the next year.

For two weeks, I’ve been mulling over what would be a good topic for this blog. How in the world do I follow up the last post about Kathy? It actually made me think of a Kathy story for some reason.

In the fall of my junior year, I had the first part of my Methods of Teaching class with Kathy. We met in a neat room in the basement of the library around two long tables that were pushed together. It just seemed like a fun set-up and our group of about 15 students all seemed to know each other. The class was early on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, meeting for at least two hours.

One Tuesday morning on a beautiful fall day, our class discussion was interrupted by someone’s pager going off (I know, who has a pager that’s not working in a hospital, right?). He turned it off, only to get paged again. And again. Finally, Kathy told him he should probably check and see what was happening. He returned seconds later, telling us that something crazy was happening in New York. A plane had crashed into the World Trade Center and the news was reporting we were under attack.

Then there was just a long, awkward silence. You could tell Kathy’s mind was racing. It was the only time I had seen Kathy with an ounce of uncertainty. She took a few moments to collect her thoughts and tried to keep our class on track, but I think she knew she had lost us. She led us into the media room in the library where the student workers and staff members had the same look on their face that most had that day. By then, the second tower and the Pentagon had been hit and the CNN anchors were showing the same uncertainty we saw in Kathy moments earlier. Part of me is definitely comforted by the fact that one of the most vivid memories I will keep for the rest of my life involves Kathy Feather.

So yeah, that’s my follow-up to a pretty serious post… another… pretty serious post. I really just need to break the ice so I can get back to random, rambling posts.

Ummm…. here. Watch this.
(Jake - it’s especially for you!)

I think this is a small piece of just getting my thoughts out in written form, so take it for what it is worth.

In the fall of my senior year in high school, I convinced my parents to take a ride up to Hiram College, one of the DoC schools that had been on my radar since I found out I would get a $3,000 grant every year because I grew up in a DoC church. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Bethany College, another DoC school, had presented heavily at a DoC camp I attended every summer, and was looking like the pretty obvious choice. Staying in Ohio, though, meant I could major in education and not worry about transferring my teaching credentials from a different state, so Hiram stayed on the list.

Visiting Hiram for the first time was an unforgettable experience. It all ran by so quickly and I walked off campus knowing it was where I would spend the next four years of my life. There are so many people I cherish from those four years… so many faculty and staff members I can name who I could never thank enough. Many are still there, impacting the lives of students daily. I know Liz is still developing amazing leaders out of scared first year RA’s, and Dottie is making students across campus feel welcome with her smile (and most likely trying to set a few up them up on dates), and Professor Koritansky is most likely lecturing about the founding fathers, without notes, for what seems like an eternity.

But it was someone very special, someone that I met on that very first visit, that Hiram lost yesterday. When my tourguide found out I was interested in education, she took me to the Jessie Smith House, an old beautiful home on the southwest corner of campus that housed the Education Department. In a warm and cluttered office on the 1st floor, I was introduced to Kathy Feather, the Education Department chair at the time.

At the time, I had no clue how busy Kathy’s schedule was and how lucky I was to get a couple of minutes from her to chat about why I was considering Hiram and what subject I was thinking about teaching. She lit up when I mentioned high school and of course made me feel like the most sought-after student she had ever met. What was crazy about Kathy was that genuine warmth and the investment she made in me that day didn’t stop once I signed all of my papers and sold my financial soul to Sallie Mae.

There was no way for me to know that day, but Kathy ended up being one of the most important people in my four years at Hiram. Thanks to her work with secondary education students, I ended up having one of her classes pretty much every year and had a chance to sit down with her twice a year for advising. Towards the end of the fall semester of my freshman year when we filed into the gym to register for our spring classes (that’s right, we did it old school), I was set with my list of classes to sign up for first and a handful of backups. When I was met with filled class after filled class and was pretty sure my academic life was over, it was Kathy who calmed me down, helped me plan out a new list of classes I could take that would keep me on track, and encouraged me to move quickly as professors were packing up.

Kathy was so loved by the Hiram community. I remember catching word of her struggles with cancer and instantly knew she would be surrounded by her colleagues. She had stepped into the dean role a couple of years ago, which was great for the student body as a whole, but a loss for education students. The cancer struck quickly and mercilessly. Kathy fought, with the support of her family, still sneaking into work when she could. I didn’t want the update on her condition to contain the news it did yesterday. I sat at my work computer, hoping it was a misunderstanding… typical Hiram rumor mill that spilled into e-mails being forwarded by alumni. I even held out hope until official word came from Hiram today. The cancer was too much and Kathy passed away Monday morning.

The first thing that pops into my mind when I think of Kathy was the spring morning of my junior year when she came to observe me in my Methods of Teaching cooperative classroom. I had a room full of 11th graders, bored to tears by the rigid straight-from-the-text instruction their teacher provided, and I was somehow doing an even poorer job. Kathy asked me to ride back with her so we could chat, and I knew in my gut that this was not going to be a pat on the back and an ‘atta boy conversation.

In the 20 minute ride back to campus, I spilled my guts to her. I had convinced myself in 10th grade that I wanted to be a high school history teacher and until about eight weeks into my Methods class, I still thought that was the case. Something had changed, though, and classroom teaching was not how I pictured myself any longer, but what was I to do? I was in the spring of my junior year in college! I couldn’t change at that point. Grant and scholarship money would run out after my senior year and there was no way I would be able to afford a fifth year at Hiram. She had such an understanding way of listening - the way she arched her eyebrows with concern and nodded slowly as I told her why I had to stick with it.

Then, after she let me ramble on for another 20 minutes in her still warm and cluttered office, she laid it on me. She didn’t see me as a teacher either. She built me up first, of course, but she didn’t spend much time beating around the bush. Kathy Feather, chair of the Education Department, told me I was not destined to teach. Instead, she helped me shape an image of what my future might hold. An education major didn’t mean a lifetime of teaching, but rather a ticket to opportunities I had not thought of. Kathy rattled off by memory what several of her former students were doing outside of the classroom. They were working in non-profits and on college campuses throughout the country, perfectly happy with their job and making great efforts to still work with students.

I was nervous about sharing my change of heart with my parents, but it was Kathy who gave me the direction and support I needed to go through with it. We met a few more times in the following weeks to discuss where I would head after Hiram, often squeezing in conversations during dinner or between classes, but I can truly say, I have no idea what I would be doing if Kathy Feather didn’t take a genuine interest in me.  A little over a year later, on a sunny day in May, I hugged Kathy and introduced her to my parents.  “This is the professor that told me I shouldn’t teach,” I told my mom (the 3rd grade teacher).  We smiled and laughed and Kathy told me I better do something great with my life since she pushed me away from the classroom.  I would have loved to have called her in twenty years and let her know how it all worked out.

There are more stories to be told about Kathy and there are seeds she has planted over the past 25 years that will be growing for years to come.  I hope her legacy is carried by all of us.  I certainly have much to be thankful for as I celebrate Kathy’s life, and I’m sure I’m not alone.