Lifelong Learning...Kindergarten lessons from Mrs. Velma Howell

Kindergarten. Hugs, snacks and paint on my fingers. Kool Aid in a cup and naps on blue or red plastic. White bread in hand and brown oak leaves under my feet at recess. Learning to stand in lines and to sing songs. Mrs. Velma Howell was teaching us to be the "creatives" that we all can be. Kindergarten was a magical half-day. I didn't know I was learning, because I was too busy loving every minute. Daily agenda: create, be kind, and learn to love to LEARN.

I am half as old as Mrs. Howell. She just turned 104 years young to my 52. When I walked into the welcoming world of her kindergarten class she was more than 10 times as old as the five-year-old me. I don't remember that type of math question, but everything and everyone counted in Mrs. Howell's class.

Closing my eyes now, I am 10 years old, cruising on my bike past Mrs. Howells vast oak-umbrella corner lot with the exotic plants and ubiquitous azaleas. I was still learning. I was small-town free. I could sit in the micro-bamboo forest in Kyle Strickland's backyard and plan a treehouse. LEARN. Not far from there is where that dog I teased, chased me down and bit me. LEARN. Rupert Russell nailed me in the back with a fastball and death seemed near, but no, it was just a "Walk" to first base. LEARN. Eddie Davis and I threw oranges at decorative concrete yard-deer and knocked off an "ear." Ran. Told to return, knock on Mrs. Clenney’s door and apologize. Buy super glue and repair. LEARN. She later offered to pay us to clean and paint all of her decorative yard items. LEARN!

I left Mrs. Howells kindergarten ready for the world. I later became her student again in a summer art class in her still-life kitchen under those protective oaks. Her corner lot was and is a testament to life-long learning; a creative hub in my small town. My personal Portland or Santa Fe. Later, when I sought fortune with a three-wheeled mower at age 15, she hired me to mow her yard. I recall the canopy was not conducive for the Bermuda grass, but her exotic, colorful plants from around the globe made me think of the world outside of my small-town incubator.

Mrs. Howell recently announced the addition of her poem “My Gift” into the book “Beyond the Sea-Discovery." When she turned 100 she was “asked for her words of wisdom…she quoted a poem she wrote about her love of children and gardens: ‘If I get to heaven before you do and you come looking for me, Don’t give up in despair thinking I didn’t make it there. I’ll tell you just what to do: Go down the path by a bubbling brook with lilies all in full bloom, Just turn to the right, you’ll see a familiar sight, You’ll find me in the children’s room.’” (Ref: http://tinyurl.com/zywsu79) Never forget the love of learning. Never stop passing that gift. Thanks Mrs. Howell.

Chance, Choice & Consequences

If you are lucky enough to spend some time with Bill Getz you will likely hear a story that will be...illuminating. Possibly about ancient Chinese history, maybe about B-24s over Europe, but you are more likely to hear about writing fiction or current national defense trends. But if you really want to see his eyes light up, ask him about teenagers. Lt Col Bill Getz just turned 92, but he understands the potential in every teenager and treasures all that is good about that strange and wonderful stage.

The first time I saw him speak to a few teens was over an "Inter-generational breakfast" where the young and the..."experienced" were planning events they could work together on during the school year. In the room were fresh-faced JROTC Cadets and US Military retired from their service in the 40s through the 60s and 70s. He started off with a twinkle in his eye and a wonderful mid-Western drawl straight-outa Indiana. He is humble, he is relaxed gravitas, and a subtle poet. He elevates the game and thoughts of all present. He gives unbridled compliments to the youngsters and tells them that they are the best this country has to offer. He mentions his own generation and the jarring events across oceans that fast-forwarded those teens into adulthood. He talks matter of factly about the call to duty--and the answering. Then he hits his oratorical sweet-spot. "Chance" he says, is where you are born and the circumstances of that place, time and people who raise you. "Choice" is something you control and your choices lead to "Consequences." "Chance" is the piece of Nazi-Germany flak that tears through your Liberator bomber, hits your boot and dies on the floor by your rudder pedals. Everyone has their "flak." It may not be addressed directly to you, but chance places obstacles in your way to overcome. "Choices" he says, are what we can control. Make them based on honest values and targeted toward your goals. Your choices have the potential to overcome the chance that life fires up at you. Both have consequences, but choice is where you have control.

The 16-year-olds were listening in rapt attention, and I realized that I just heard a story that I would retell many times. Stories of courage, sacrifice, hard work and happenstance that have filled many books about "the greatest generation" have always been addicting to me. But Bill Getz does not buy into that "greatest" moniker. Although he decided instantly to answer the call at age 17 when his high school Commandant announced the news about Pearl Harbor, he believes every generation has that same spirit and capability to answer their calls to serve their communities and nation. Our challenge-- prove him right.