Skip to main content

Knitting a life~


I live in a college town. The same college I commuted to so many years ago. I commute now to my former hometown where I teach at the middle school, courtesy of the degree I earned in college. That so much of my life has been lived within such a small circle bothers me a little, but it is not important at all in the grand scheme of things. That so much of my life has been lived is what counts.



Today I walk across the Bridgewater State College campus to the Administration Building that stands behind a half-mast flag in recognition of the bond shared with Virginia Tech. There but for the grace of God . . .. 



In the shadow of the flag stands a group of potential students and their parents taking a tour of the campus, carefully scrutinizing, assessing, evaluating, deciding: is this college for me? 





It breaks my heart. 





I think of the 32 students killed at Virginia Tech, gunned down in cold blood by one who made the 33rd death the final one. 





Each chose Virginia Tech thoughtfully, for personal reasons-- my father went there, I got a scholarship, it has the degree program I want-- but none knew they might die because of their choice. Or the choice made by another. 





And such is life. Our lives are knit together, adding the yarn of others to our own strands. Hopefully something beautiful is created. Sometimes it all unravels. Long before the garment is finished. 





Those of us with kids going off to college have no more to fear than we ever did, really, though we may feel more vulnerable. Death has always interrupted-- anywhere, anytime, large scale or small, planned in madness or executed by random accident. 



Make your choices for the best reasons you know. Knit like there is no tomorrow. 





For those of us who have made it to midlife living 18 miles as the crow flies from our childhood home, be glad. Some decisions work for the good. Some knit a complete sweater, some don't. 





Life goes on with all its threats and promises. On campuses across the nation, hard lessons are learned, lessons for which there are no grade point averages. And the lives that are being knitted will be both tougher and more tender for the knots that tie the broken fibers together. 



When bells tolled across the nation at noon on April 20-- joining with the chimes at Virginia Tech-- in memory of lives lost, I felt the threads pull, weaving me more tightly into the warp of the larger tapestry that we all share. 



Those who mourn do not mourn alone. They are wrapped in a shawl knit by love and concern of those they may never know. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We...

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin...

Quantico~

Quantico Marine Corps Base is home of the Officer Candidate School my husband attended back when the Viet Nam War still raged. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With an eight-hour drive ahead of us, if all goes perfectly, we'll be in Virginia at 1500 today. On Thursday, my husband will join hundreds of former Marines for the 41st reunion of those who graduated from Officer Candidate School at Quantico Marine Corp Base. Most haven't communicated, let alone seen each other, since 1967. Email has been flying for nearly a year as the committee worked to make the reunion possible. And now with the event schedule in hand, we're off. Only it's not called a schedule. It's a sit rep. Actually, Sit Rep it says on the top sheet. "A what?" "A situation report," Bruce says. The three-day agenda is printed in military time. That's as bad as the metric system. So I draw myself a normal clock, and jot the military hours beside the numbers on the normal person's clock. I wi...