92: The One for Mr. Pomeroy

 

Rick and Meredith Pomeroy, two of the best people I knew at Forest Lake Academy

I did not know Mr. Pomeroy well, but I didn't need to know him well to know he was a good man, a man of compassion and care. I did not need to know him well for him to save my academic life in high school.  I have never forgotten the grace Mr. Pomeroy showed me--grace that by definition I did not deserve.

Here's my story, my memory of Mr. Pomeroy:

The first half of my sophomore year I kind of fell of an academic cliff. I'd always been a straight A student and had found academic success came easy to me. Until tenth grade.  Between Mr. Viar's 7:00 AM Biology I and Mr. Pomeroy's Auto Mechanics class, I found myself in real trouble, though for different reasons.  With Viar, I was encountering for the first time a class that actually required me to study--something I'd never really learned how to do.  His class was hard and my usual strategies--read the book and then ace the test--weren't working. I barely scraped by in his class with a D- for the first semester before I got my act together.  

With Mr. Pomeroy's class, the situation was even worse. I have never had any interest in and little talent for working with my hands.  Fixing things, building things, all those manly arts--they were never my thing.  Pomeroy's class was not difficult--his requirements were simple and straightforward.  And yet, I had no interest in Auto Mechanics whatsoever and no matter how hard I tried I could not get motivated in that class (and let's be honest, I didn't try very hard at all).  During Pomeroy's lectures I would sit in the back row of the class with J Carlos and Robert Desamours and talk all through class.  Or work on my epic Vietnam novel I was forever working on--the one that featured all my friends as soldiers or nurses in Nam.  Or I would just sleep.

When we went out to the shop, I was the classic goof-off, hoping to ride someone else's coat-tails to a passing grade. I would stand around watching my partner--I think it was Jonathan Frey--busily changing the brake pads on one of the old cars Pomeroy always had in the shop.  Whenever Mr. Pomeroy would come by to check on us, I would make an unconvincing show of working: "Yeah, Jonathan, get that. .. .uh. . .caliper, right there. Yup, just like that. I can probably take it from here. . ."  As soon as Mr. Pomeroy moved on to the next pair, I'd continue to let Jonathan do all the work. I was really good a fetching tools, but that was about it. 

 I  know Mr. Pomeroy loved cars with the enthusiasm of a kid in candy store. I remember watching him go roaring around in that souped-up Plymouth Duster, barely able to keep from grinning at it's mighty rumble. It must have been galling to him to see this punk tenth grader show so little interest in something that meant so much to him.

When the semester came to an end, I knew I had failed. I'd done virtually no work and learned nothing. I knew what I deserved and was fully prepared for him to give me exactly that.  But for reasons I'll never know, Mr. Pomeroy gave me a chance. I think he may have given me a chance to do some extra credit or maybe he just straight up gifted me with a grade far higher than I deserved.  When the report cards came out, Mr. Pomeroy had given me a D-.  Just enough to pass.  I was amazed and so grateful! 

I don't remember if I ever went back and thanked Mr. Pomeroy for that mercy.  I feel like I did, maybe at the last reunion.  I hope I did.  Because now that he's gone, that opportunity has passed.

Mr. Pomeroy was special to our class of 92 as well. He was one of our sponsors, and he tolerated our poor class spirit and general lack of enthusiasm with patient good cheer.  In particular I recall that he was the sponsor assigned to camp with my team, The Wild Turkeys, during Senior Survival.  The way I remember it, he pretty much let us do our own thing, but he was always there--a reassuring presence in his red windbreaker and baseball cap.  My fellow Turkeys and I really appreciated him and embraced him as one of our own.

There's P-Roy, a steady, calming presence in the background at Wild Turkey camp. This photo was taken during Senior Survival, November 1991. On closer examination it appears that Mr. Pomeroy is holding a shoe.  I'm sure there is a story behind that! Also pictured are Jonathan Terryn and Rees Franklin.

My prayers are with Mr. Pomeroy's family as they grieve the loss of this special man.  He will be missed.  For now, we look forward to the day when we will see Mr. Pomeroy again, when he will be welcomed home by the Savior whose character of grace and mercy he emulated so well.

Corona Chronicles: Live with It

 

A new view to close out this series.  When I began the Corona Chronicles last I took a year I took a photo from the window of the guest bedroom that I used as my office. Now we've given that room to my older son so that he can have his own room, and my office is now a corner of the family room. This my view now.

Well here we are, at the end of the Corona Chronicles.  At just over a year, this post will be the final regular entry in this series (though I may return from time to time with an addition to the series if I find something to say).

Of course the pandemic isn't over. Far from it.  In fact we are in the midst of yet another surge, that while beginning to abate in some parts of the country is now ramping up here in Ohio. But I've exhausted everything I can think of to say on this topic.  The familiar ebb and flow of surge and improvement seems destined to continue for quite some time to come. 

I've noticed something though. It seems that even though we now have a variant of COVID-19 that is far more contagious than the old-school version, and even though parts of the country are experiencing record infections, hospitalizations, and deaths, we seem to moving ahead with returning to normal life.  We seem to have decided that when it comes to COVID we will live with it, whatever that means.  We are not going back to lock downs and cancelled events.  Even the most cautious organizations don't appear to be planning to cancel or limit their events in any meaningful ways.  We are willing--some of us anyway--to wear a mask and get the vaccine, but we've no plans to change our lifestyle otherwise.  I include myself in this "live with it" approach.  I'm teaching fully in person this year and my school appears to have no plans to shutter their doors even for a short period. I plan to visit my mom in Florida this weekend (provided that I test negative. I woke up with sniffles and congestion and took the day off work. I will get a COVID test this evening just to be on the safe side.  I really think it's just allergies. I feel fine and in fact, even the congestion seems to be mostly gone now).  And I've got tickets to see Mat Kearney in concert next month.  So far the show appears to be going on. 

As I was reflecting last weekend on the 20th anniversary of the September 11 attacks, it occurred to me that those terrorist attacks were tailor made for our strengths as a nation.  This was the terrorists great mistake.  They didn't understand that we Americans will allow nothing to deter us from living our normal lives.  You might knock us down for a moment, but we rush to the aid of those in need, even if it costs some of us our lives.  We will rebuild.  And then we will get right back to it--shopping, celebrating, working, worshiping, and traveling, just like always.  That is what we do. 

And that is how we have ultimately responded to this current crisis of a lifetime. I'm not sure that "living with it" is the best response for this type of crisis. I wonder if a pandemic makes a vulnerability out of what is a strength in a terrorist attack--our determination to keep on living our normal lives.  But it doesn't matter.  That is what we Americans do.  And only time will tell whether our decision to live with it is one we can well . . .live with.

As of today, September 15 there have been 41,448,621  total cases of COVID-19 in the United States.  Another 4,764,593  new cases were added since August 15  This month's numbers represent an average of  an 13% increase in the number of new cases over the past month, and 1,829,871 more than I predicted. There have been 664, 231 deaths altogether from COVID-19, with 43,180 of those occurring in the past month. This is a 7% monthly increase.  It is also 29,517 more deaths than I predicted.  I had hoped to see a peak and drop off in cases and deaths in the past month and instead the numbers of deaths are tens of thousands and the cases hundreds of thousands higher than I predicted.  I am retiring my crystal ball and won't be making any more predictions. However I can't help but wonder how much higher we can go.  I will likely keep these charts live, maybe updating once a month instead of once a week so readers who chance upon these posts in months and years to come will see updated data not reflected in the post itself.

 

Only Florida appears to be on the downside of this current surge, though it appears Hawaii may also have peaked.  In other states, new cases are still rising with no certainty about what heights they may yet reach.  Nebraska and Illinois' increases have been in the single digits, but the other three states are posting double digit rates of increase.

Total Cases:

Florida: 3,442,090 total cases, 564,697  of which were new cases in the past month, an increase of 20%. This is 39,556  fewer cases than I predicted.  I have this one student who is constantly removing his mask in class. For awhile he didn't even bother to come to school with a mask and we'd have to give him one every day. I would jokingly tell him he should move to Florida where the governor would have his back. "Don't you worry, young man," DeSantis would tell him, "If you don't want to wear a mask you don't have to!"

Ohio: 1,311,518 total cases, with 153,736 new cases being added over the past month. The rate of increase rose to 13%. This is 109,740  more cases than I predicted. Ohio appears to be riding a COVID wave that may set a new pandemic peak record.

Nebraska: 254,850 total cases, of which 21,447 are new cases, an increase of 9.2%. This is 13,728 more cases than I predicted: Shout-out to my high school classmate and Nebraska resident Tana Hagele Pageler who has been a faithful follower of my Corona blogs since the start of pandemic. She was the inspiriation for including Nebraska among my benchmark states.  Thanks for your thoughtful observations and commentary, Tana.  Your reasonable and perhaps more conservative viewpoint has been invaluable along the way.

Hawaii: 70,504 total cases, an average of 22,128 new cases last month, an increase of  46%. This is  7,615 more cases than I predicted.  I added Hawaii to my benchmark states because it's where my 8th grade class of 2020 had planned to go for their class trip.  That trip has now been pushed back to summer 2022, just as my formers students are getting ready to start their junior year of high school.  Hopefully by then, Hawaii will be in better shape.  As it is the New York Times database shows Hawaii on the downside of its worst surge of the pandemic. So at least in the near-term things are looking up.

Illinois: 1,582,811 total cases, 120,723 new cases, an increase of  8.3%. This is 62,240 more cases than I predicted. My friend J Carlos lives in the Chicago area and I added Illinois to my benchmark list last September as a nod to him. I find it interesting that despite having similar size populations, Illinois has not surged as high as Ohio has.

All states are now seeing an increase in COVID deaths that is higher than I predicted.  Florida and Hawaii have shown double digit rates of increase in deaths over the past month.

Total Deaths

Florida: 49,251 total deaths, of which 8,485 are new deaths in the past month, an increase of 21%. This is 5,836 more deaths than I forecast. I actually had to go back and double check my numbers to make sure I'd updated them properly last month. I did. This is like having two September 11 attacks (and then some) in the past month in Florida. Truly horrific. But hey, Live Free and Die. . . wait, is that how the quote goes?

Ohio: 21,265 total deaths, of which 651 are new deaths, an increase of 3%. This is 445 deaths more than I predicted.  

Nebraska: 2,613 total deaths. This includes 49 new deaths, an increase of  1.9%. This is an average of 21 more deaths than I predicted. 

Hawaii: 657 total deaths,  including 112 new deaths in the past month, an increase of 21%. This is 96 more deaths than I forecast.  It's worth nothing that Florida and Hawaii have notched the same percent of increase in deaths over the past month.  The numbers are different of course because the Florida has a much larger population, but the that percent of increase shows the two vacation destinations have been on similar trajectories during this latest surge.

Illinois: 27,008 total deaths, 916 new deaths, an increase of 3.5%. This 655 more deaths than I predicted. 

92: The One in the Pool

 

Sandra came prepared. Chandra did not.

On September 14, 1991, Shane Hamilton's parents hosted the senior class for the first of two class parties held during the school year.  This one was meant to celebrate the start of the year, presumably and the second one held days before graduation and hosted by Chandra Maloney's folks, was a graduation party to celebrate the end of the year.  I wrote in my journal a couple of days later, on Wednesday, September 18 that "Saturday night was our class party at Shane Hamilton's house. It was awesome, the best one I ever went to."

Before things got crazy. I believe that is Jonathan Frey and Michelle Robinson looking so sophisticated

I think it was intended to be a typical party--well, a typical Adventist party with parents and teachers around any way (more truly typical parties went on at other times during the year. If you know, you know): Little cheese cubes, tiny sandwiches, bowls of chips and dip, plastic cups of soda.  I imagine there must have been games of some sort planned. In fact there was a boys against girls "flamingo" football game played in some dark expanse of yard (In flamingo football, the guys had to play on one leg. Unsurprisingly, the girls won).  But what I remember most about that class party is that everyone ended up in the Hamilton's pool, and that's what I have lots of pictures of.  

Some hapless soul creates a big splash

I'm not sure how it all began--just that at first it was just the girls being thrown in. Undoubtedly, it was testosterone fueled "flirting."  Adolescent fellas showing their manliness by hurling the pretty girls into the pool, while the girls shrieked in laughing (one hopes) protest. But soon enough the pool dunking spread until pretty much anyone was fair game.  The party that began poolside ended up being the party in the pool.

Sean Forde seems to have come prepared. Many of us did not.

Once everyone went home in their wet clothes, "joking around" continued with pranks being played upon unsuspecting schoolmates late into the night  .

Looking back, I'm wondering why they didn't just plan for it to be a pool party in the first place. It seems a bit obvious that people should plan to swim at a party where a pool is present.  But that wouldn't be the way of the class of 92.  Regular classes would have come prepared with swimsuits, towels, and suitable changes of clothes.  But that's just not how we do things.  With the class of 92 how things start is no indication of how things end up.

Where We Were

 

At 10:46 PM on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was dragging myself up the stairs after an evening "showing the plan" to some unlucky soul (I was an Amway distributor at that time, in addition to being a missionary teacher on the island of Saipan. Long story).  Memory is a funny thing, because the way I remember it, is that I was headed up to the master bedroom in the three bedroom duplex that housed the school principal.  But this could not have been true because Barbara was not the principal of the school at that time, and we didn't even move into that apartment until the start of the 2002-2003 school year.  No, our principal at the time, Evan Hendrix and his family lived in that apartment, and I was headed up to the loft bedroom in our little studio across the compound.  And my memory of when I found out is definitely in that little apartment.

If I had been the type to turn on the TV and catch the eleven o clock news and  Jay Leno, I might have known then (though perhaps not, because all the networks in Saipan were a week behind. My understanding is we got the tapes from a local affiliates in the San Francisco Bay area. I would have to have been watching CNN, which was live).   As it was, I dropped into bed blissfully unaware of the horrific events unfolding on the U.S. Mainland half a world away.

So where I was, when I found out about eight hours later, was in our kitchen Wednesday morning, September 12, 2001.  We were getting ready for school when one of our students' parents, Susan Schwarz called. "Turn on the TV," she cried. "America is under attack!"  Those words seemed insane. "America under attack"?  What did that even mean?  Who would be attacking us? What would such an attack on us--the mightiest nation under the sun--even look like?  We turned on the TV as instructed and quickly found out.

By this time, the Pentagon had been struck, the heroes of Flight 93 had thwarted the terrorists plans and their plane had crashed into the ground near Shanksville, Pennsylvania,  the twin towers of the World Trade Center had come down--all of the major events had happened hours ago and the images were playing on grim repeat on CNN:  The smoking towers, the silhouette of second plane streaking towards oblivion, the horrible collapse of first the North Tower and then the South.  Seeing the images of America under attack made no more sense than hearing the words.  It was madness.

We went ahead to school, but didn't stay long. The principal (I remember it was Barbara, but again it was not--she wouldn't take that role for another few months) let out school by noon.  It's not because we were in any danger. Indeed, our little corner of U.S. soil tucked away in the midst of the Pacific Ocean was probably the safest place in America to be. No terrorist would have considered an attack on the virtually unknown Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Islands a way to bring America to it's knees.  No, it was just because we were all shell shocked--teachers and students alike.  We needed to process, time to make sense of the senseless.

Ironically, though we were infinitely safer where we were, I longed to be back on the Mainland that day. It was one of the very few times during our eleven years in Saipan that I longed to go "home."  I felt a need to be with my people, to mourn with them, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. I never felt more American than I did on September 12.

Here's what I wrote in my journal that Wednesday:

"I'm not really sure what to say or how to begin.  We found out around seven o'clock this morning that about eight hours earlier the United States was attacked by terrorists.  It's a disaster unparalleled in our country's history.  Terrorists commandeered four jetliners filled with passengers and forced them to crash. Two into the the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, one into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. and another somewhere in Pennsylvania.  So horrible were the crashes that we have no idea how many have died or been injured and won't know for awhile. 

It just seems so unreal, so impossible. It seems more like a movie, but it is real.  I just can't believe it and I know that things will never be the same."

And so it was. Some things have never been the same.  So much changed with 9/11.  The lives of the families and loved ones of those who were stolen away that day were forever changed.  Even now, twenty years later, the grief surely remains and is especially painful today.  But even for the rest of us, the way we travel, the way we live, what we fear has changed.  Two wars were launched to right the terrorists wrongs and thousands more gave their lives in those conflicts.  Whole new divisions of the government were created to ensure such an attack could never take place again. 

But it's important to note that not everything changed.  The terrorists hope of bringing our nation to its knees was a colossal failure. We went down hard, like Billy the Kid, as Tom Petty sang. But we got up again.  We took the hit, but paid the ultimate tribute to those that lost their lives and those that gave their lives to save others.  On their behalf, we kept living, kept loving, kept thriving.  What the terrorists didn't understand about our national character is this exactly the kind of crisis our nation was built to meet.  We are willing to throw ourselves into clear and present danger, to risk our own lives to go into the fire, to wrestle a madman away from the controls of an airplane. We are ready to come to the aid of those coming out of the smoking haze of collapsed buildings.  And when all that is done, we are really good at rebuilding, and continuing on with our beloved way of life. That is what we do.  If jihadists goal was to throw our nation into existential crisis and eventual decline, the September 11 attacks were exactly the wrong way to do it. 

This photo and the one at the top were taken in May 2012, while I was in New York City with my students on their 8th grade class trip. My reflections on that visit to Ground Zero can be found here.

Today, we pause to remember. I hope that while we remember the evil atrocity committed on September 11, we will also remember that incredible good that so many displayed that day as well. I hope that we will remember that we still have the capacity to come together, shoulder to shoulder, and do what has to be done. 

Well the sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me, then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love

You gave your love to see, in fields of red and autumn brown
You gave your love to me and lay your young body down
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love

It was dark, too dark to see, you held me in the light you gave
You lay your hand on me, walked into the darkness of your smoky grave
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love

May your love bring us love

                                  --Bruce Springsteen, "Into the Fire"