Pocahontas

My grandfather, A.W. Brent, was a good man. He also was a very stern person with a low tolerance for unresolved conflict. He kept a hatchet in the trunk of his car which he occasionally used to settle traffic disputes.

According to family lore A. W. Brent's mother, Mary, was the daughter of a Cherokee Indian.

I was looking at the picture of my grandfather this morning and wondering how he would react if Donald Trump (or anyone else) tried to ridicule his mother by calling her "Pocahontas."

What's With the Hat?

About forty years ago I taught at the Heywood Environmental School in Louisville. Heywood was an innovative special education option within the Jefferson County school system. The school was called "Environmental" because all the staff were expected to maintain a positive environment for the students. We were all trained in a specific behavioral model in special education. Maintaining a positive environment was a pretty high bar because all of our students had histories of serious behavioral disorders.

Teaching at Heywood was hard work. I could only do it for three years. But it was an extremely valuable and formative experience. I learned a lot from the Heywood students and applied those lessons many times over of the course of my career.

My favorite student at Heywood was named Lennie. I got to know Lennie very well. I also got to know Lennie's mom and his younger brother, Jeffery.

In my classroom Lennie was always a model student. He sometimes looked a little intimidating but his behavior was never a problem. It took a long time for me to learn why Lennie was assigned to a school for kids with behavior disorders.

Eventually, I found the forms sent by the regular school that referred Lennie to Heywood. The only behavioral issues I could find were related to his hat. Lennie insisted on wearing a hat all the time. When teachers told him to remove his hat in class Lennie would explode and become violent.

In our school hats were not a problem so Lennie wore his hat all the time. After I got to know Lennie well enough I asked him, "What's the deal with your hat?" He took his hat off and said, "See. My head is shaped funny." I told him that I did not see anything funny about the shape of his head. He was not convinced.  He continued to wear his hat and he continued to be a model student.

That's Lennie in the picture. He is the one with the hat.

Carol's Birthday

Tomorrow is Carol’s birthday. I do not know how significant her birthday is to her but it has become very significant to me. Her birthday has reminded me of how important she is. It has reminded me of why I love her.

I love her because she feels so deeply. I love her because of her sense of integrity and her insistence on doing the right thing. I love her elegant style. I love her relationships with her children and her family. I love her because of the mysterious ways she loves me.

Happy Birthday Carol!

The Face of God

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My life-long friend, Lloyd, has visited Hell this summer. He has gone through a season of physical pain, emotional distress, and drug-induced cognitive confusion. It is not over yet.

His ordeal was caused by a serious infection that required emergency surgery. The condition created multiple systemic and, potentially life-threatening complications. Lloyd spent six weeks in intense physical and emotional pain as he moved from intensive care to an extended hospital stay and then to skilled nursing care.

Recently, Lloyd was able to see visitors. I was fortunate to be one. I felt some of his pain as he talked about the physical and psychological trauma he had experienced. I listened as he talked about his deep appreciation of his wife, Kathy, who provided immense attention and advocacy for Lloyd as the two of them navigated their way through an imperfect healthcare system.

Lloyd also told me that his visit to Hell had a surprise. He said, “I saw the face of God.” I listened as Lloyd told me that the face of God was revealed to him in the faces of some of the caregivers he encountered who really cared. These were caregivers who over-performed their job descriptions.  Lloyd told me that these were people who, despite personal problems of their own, gave him all the support that they possibly could when he was the most vulnerable. These were human beings who made an authentic connection with Lloyd – a connection that transcended the roles of patient and caregiver. These were people who shared the face of God with Lloyd and I am glad he was able to see It.

Time is an Ally

Last month my father-in-law, Robert G. Parr, died at the age of ninety-five. His death was not a surprise but it was still an emotional moment for his family and for many of his scientific colleagues.

Bob Parr and I were close friends. This was (and still is) a peculiar fact. The two of us were at opposite ends of just about any scale that you can imagine. He was a brilliant, world-class theoretical chemist. I passed high school chemistry with a C-. Bob was careful and deliberate. He built his life and his career on rational, long range plans and consistent follow through. I have spent most of my life in a “Be Here Now” anti-planning model that has had numerous downside consequences and only a few invisible upsides. Bob was quiet, thoughtful, and serious. I am seldom any of those. The only thing Bob and I had in common was that we both loved the same woman, his daughter, Carol.

A few days after Bob’s death two of his younger colleagues asked me if I could explain to them how I became friends with Bob. These two young men deeply admired and respected Bob but I don’t think they experienced Bob as a close friend. I could not answer their question in any meaningful way but it did cause me to think about it.

Bob and I became friends with the help of an ally – time. We were in each other’s family life for a very long time. For much of that time we just tolerated each other. We co-existed through holidays, family vacations and many UNC basketball games. We did not judge each other. We just hung around each other long enough to allow opportunities to emerge. The opportunities eventually appeared as problems or periods of family crisis. During these periods of crisis Bob and I got to experience what it was like to help each other out. We tested the strength of our relationship.

We discovered what was behind the masks of our roles as father-in-law and son-in-law. We found that behind the masks we did have something significant in common that did not require words. We discovered that we could rely on each other as human beings - as friends.

During the final years of Bob’s life I felt his friendship through his subtle smile and occasional winks. My friendship with Bob Parr was well worth the wait.