On Friday night I had been to a couples home with a small gathering of people I dearly love. It was a Michigan summer evening performance that couldn't be beat with it's cooler temperatures, soft breezes and no humidity. Great conversation, laughter and delicious food was the order of the evening, and I went to sleep that night with a contented heart. So, thankfulness was coming easily to my mind Saturday morning as I began to thank God, one by one for the many blessings in my life. I went about the early morning preparing myself for what was ahead which included a day with my Dad to a school picnic where he taught upper elementary in the late 50's through the mid 60's.
In the midst of my perfect morning, something went awry. A word spoken between the only two people living in this house went sideways and soon words were being tossed in tones determined to destroy. It was ugly and the younger me began to do a mental audit of who I am against what was said. It's one of those old habits that doesn't want to quit.
I finished my morning chores in silence, but mentally I was talking with God over and over about the issue at hand. I changed my clothes, got in the car to pick up my Dad and had barely gotten very far when I landed at a red light. The continued beautiful weather meant windows were down and music played softly. I was looking straight ahead when I heard the softest little "hiiii". I looked over my left shoulder to see a truck next to me with the back window open and the sweetest little chubby hand waving at me. This curly haired child, maybe about 2 years old, was greeting me with a little love that I know came from my Creator as a calming, soothing pat on my head reminding me that despite the words that were spoken that morning, my day is not ruined and the choices ahead of me for the next 24 hours are mine to make. I continued my drive to Dad's and when I got to his place to pick him up, he was sort of down, it seemed. He said he didn't have a very good morning, so after having my own rough start I suggested we make the best of the rest of this day.
We got into the car and as we drove he said "now, I don't want to stay to long. I'll see some people say a few words and then we'll head home. I'll take you to lunch". Well, okay I thought - we are going to a picnic but he didn't seem to want to get to comfy. I simply agreed with him and figured the day would play out as it should. We arrived at the site, got out of the car and I began hearing small rumbles of conversation with words popping up of "Mr. McAlpine's here!" We moved around the pavilion in a slow and methodical way and one by one, people began sharing stories with my dad, retelling something he taught them, who they got in trouble with or Dad recalling their siblings by name or their father's profession. Taped up around the pavilion on each support pole was a school picture of my Dad in his very early years of education. It was easy to see why he was so liked!
As the time went by Dad began to settle slowly into the gathering and eventually asked me to get him some pasta salad. He sat down, ate a little bit, conversed more and really began to lighten up at the memories being shared by this group of "kids". Emotions were running a bit, which Dad doesn't like showing, when he said that Holcomb Elementary was his favorite assignment in all the years he was teaching. Many students also reminisced about the Paddle that was prominent in the classroom and prominent during that era of education. As Dad began to relax it allowed time for the others to speak to me in a little more depth about their school years and memories of Dad. One by one, I heard over and over again, that "Mr. McAlpine was always my favorite teacher." One of the female students re-iterated to the group what I heard several times through the day - they had crushes on Dad and at pajama parties they would call our house, then hang up and giggle when he answered the phone! Remember 5th and 6th grade? Having a male teacher always brought along school-girl crushes and I remember a few myself.
Repeatedly I was told, "he really loved his students and did a lot of things to keep us interested in learning". Several women who are near 70 or so, said that Dad was the reason they became educators and they are still teaching today.
Finally, one man said to me, "all those nice things they are saying about your dad are true, but don't get me wrong when I say that your dad was a hard-ass. What I mean is that he was strict with us and we had to follow the rules closely. He was a no-nonsense guy." Now, he's talking about my Dad as that was true at home, too! The day ended with a re-written song which went into a birthday celebration honoring him as a wonderful teacher who's approaching his 90th birthday in October.
What started out to be a questionable day for both of us, turned out to be a day filled with great love and enjoyment. A little later Dad signaled to me when it was time to go, and when I pulled up with the car, he was surrounded by men and women alike getting in their last words with their favorite teacher.
The students of Holcomb Elementary really honored "Mr. McAlpine" in a deeply, heartfelt way and when we got back to Dad's apartment, he hunkered down in his chair and snoozed into the evening sunset. My drive home was sweet to the soul and I have one more memory for my gratitude list 💖
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