Crossbyte contemplation #3: And the Road Goes on and on into the sunset, and my destiny is bound to move me on." (Movin On by the group Missouri.)

When you've reached the end of your journey, you will find that the road goes on! #crossbyte

You can take this #crossbyte in a couple of different ways. First, I do believe in life after death. I remember when my mother died, I received all kinds of signs which showed me that she was going to be okay. I won't go into all of them, but I will give you a couple. Once, after my mom died when I felt especially depressed, I was driving my car listening to my rock music at several decibels. The song playing was Angel by Aerosmith. Suddenly, my seat belt buzzer indicating that someone was in the seat beside me went off. The thing is, no one was there. You can call that coincidence if you want to, but I don't. I welcomed my mom but told her she didn't really have to buckle her seatbelt.

At another time, not long after she died, I had a dream about my mom. We were having a family get-together and she was doing all the preparations like my mom always did when the family got together, and I was watching her. Then I remembered that she had died, and I said, "Mom, I thought you were dead." She replied, "Not really."

Occasionally, I still get little signs. I enjoy spending time on my back deck watching and listening to the birds. A Cardinal appeared at our bird feeder, and I remembered the old saying that a Cardinal's presence means someone from heaven is close by. At first, I said, "Hi, mom," when I saw it. Then, I remembered that my mom's favorite bird was a mockingbird. As I said, "Now, if you were a mockingbird, I'd really be impressed." At that precise moment, a mockingbird flew to our bird feeder.

While I've never seen my mom's ghost or any other ghost for that matter, I do get little reminders like those often. On the same day as the mockingbird there were two other signs, but I will save those for another day.

I do want to add one more way that you can look at the #crossbyte above. How many times have you come across an "end" in your life? Maybe, a job or a relationship ended. Maybe, like in my case, someone you know and loved died. Sometimes these moments seem like an end, and even though they are, they don't have to be "the" end.

I retired from teaching -- the one thing I had known for over 30 years. It was the end of a career, one that could not have been any more fulfilling. However, I knew that it was the end. I'd begun to fall behind the technology, and all the red tape and bureaucratic bull just made it no longer enjoyable. It wasn't my students at all. I knew that the end of my teaching career had come, but the news that we were going to get our first grandchild made me realize that another journey was about to begin.

The end of my teaching career was not "the end." (I do have to confess though that I have not left teaching entirely. I still teach a few classes for Three Rivers Community College.) Sometimes, when the pavement runs out, there's a nice trail to walk. I became a grandfather, and believe me when I say that journey is just beginning. I have had time to write. In the last year, I have had more publications and made more money than I have in any five or ten years of writing than I ever had before. I used to say that I'd never make enough money as a writer to quit my day job, but now that I have retired from my day job, I'm enjoying the writing journey. (I still don't make very much money, but that's now why I write)I don't know where this journey will take me, but I know there will come a time when I realize I should stop.

I think that when the path to this life ends that I'll just be walking a different one that I've never walked before.

Think about the times when something "ended" for you. Was it really the ending? Or was it the start of a different walk down a different path? Endings hurt a lot, especially when we don't remember that one thing has to end before something else begins. Not all the endings we experience are pleasant; most are not at first, some never. But think about all of the wonderful new beginnings you have had, beginnings which would not have happened if there had not been an ending.

When the road you are traveling ends, keep on walking. There's another path out there just waiting for the right feet -- your feet.

Crossbyte Contemplation 2: Rumor has it

#crossbyte: Gossip spreads so much faster and does more damage than truth.

 

During my first year of teaching, my first real job, I fell in love with a bright red 1978 Firebird special edition and bought it. Never mind that the payments for the car, my bills, and the money I gave to my dad who had helped me with the down payment,  took up almost every cent of my paycheck. I think I was making about $10,000 a year. I did a budget and figured that I had enough to cover the cost of rent, the car, and my dad’s loan plus any other bills I had.

 

One of the things I forgot to include in my budget was food. So through the week, I squeaked by with the help of one of my fellow English teachers and good friend Perry Watson who fed me at least two or three times a week.  On weekends, I did just like I did in college: went home and sponged off my parents.

 

My first semester of teaching went smoothly, and my evaluation was sparkling with not one negative comment. Then came the second semester. My boss, whom I disliked for a long time before I could finally forgive him, called me into his office one day.  He started asking me some questions which began innocently enough.

 

“Do you know the trailer out by the river?” I told him I did because I drove past it every weekend on my way back to see my parents.

 

“The person who lives there is one of the biggest drug dealers in the county.” Okay, I thought, what does this have to do with me?

 

Then came the bomb which nearly blew my life apart forever.

 

“Someone saw your car there.”

 

I vehemently denied it. I had never been there much less bought drugs. I had never even heard of this alleged drug dealer.

 

The next comment from my boss was, “One of your students in your class said, ‘We’re going to get rid of these hop-headed teachers,’ and you dropped it like a hot potato. I remembered the kid saying this in class, and the reasons I dropped it were that I didn’t think he was talking about me, and two, I actually knew one or two hop-headed teachers who taught there.”

 

When I again denied any knowledge of his accusation, he said, “Your car stands out from others. You’re the only one who has one like it around here.”  I couldn’t argue that point.

 

Well, one thing led to another, and I got the ultimatum. My boss said, “The board will likely not rehire you for next year. I suggest you resign rather than let yourself get fired.”

 

I cannot even begin to describe how much hatred filled me. I had not ever bought drugs from this person and I didn’t even know him. I am by nature very easy-going, and it takes a lot to get me mad. Let me tell you how mad I was. I went to a lawyer and talked to him about suing the school for defamation of character. I remember exactly what he said, “Let’s go after them.”

 

I had a case. I had not had a single bad comment about my teaching, and then suddenly I was going to get fired. Someone, I think it was my mom, who was a saint on earth, appealed to my reason, “Son, if you do sue this school, others will not want to hire you. You might never get another teaching job.” She was right. As a non-tenured teacher, I basically had no rights. I could have been fired for anything. I sent in my resignation letter, but my anger still boiled inside me. I would have given up teaching forever if not for two things. One, I had received a scholarship in college that required that I teach for two years or else I had to pay it back. I had completed one. Second, another school and another principal came through for me.

 

I remember it wasn’t until late July that I got another interview. Mr. McLaurin the principal of the school who interviewed me said right at the beginning, “We heard that you had some trouble at your last school.” I believed that my shot at the job was over. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Mr. McLaurin had faith in me, and this school hired me. I went from hating my first year of teaching and seriously considering dropping out of teaching altogether to finally finding out how much I loved it my second year. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Arcadia Valley High School in Ironton, Missouri, and to Mr. McLaurin.

 

I recently retired after 32 years of teaching, but I still teach part-time at Three Rivers Community College because I still love it. My career almost didn’t happen because of rumors. For years, I held a grudge against my first boss and my first school because they believed something totally wrong based on rumors.

 

I forgave my first boss finally, but it wasn’t until after he died. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how the accusations had come about in the first place. Then, one day it hit me.  I told you that I drove that road every weekend to visit my parents. What I now realize is that I probably did stop at the trailer. Not to buy drugs, but because I had forgotten something I needed to take to my parents. (It was probably my dirty clothes because I didn’t have a washer and dryer myself.) I had turned around in the alleged drug dealer’s driveway, and one of my student’s parents probably saw my car. After all, the bright red Firebird special edition was truly was one of a kind.

 

Why can’t people see the damage that rumors cause? I’ll leave you with one last thought. I used to do an exercise in my classes where I told one student a story and that student had to tell the same story to another student. By the time the story passed through three students, it was unrecognizable.

 

Another thing I have noticed is people mostly pass bad rumors. The good news just isn’t as exciting I guess. I know everyone, at one time, has been victimized by rumors. Yet we ourselves still gossip. Isn’t there something wrong with that?

I want to spend a moment or two on Shameless Self Promotion:

I have two books available for sale on Amazon. One is a Fantasy, Masters of Camelot, which is listed as a steampunk Arthurian story and the other is my contemporary adult novel called Drowning.

https://www.amazon.com/Masters-Camelot-Steven-Cross-ebook/dp/B0887TDM77

https://www.amazon.com/Drowning-Steven-M-Cross-ebook/dp/B07Z3HCPCQ

You can also join @episodicreading and enjoy my dystopian novel Tongue Tied which is about a society where telling stories will get you killed. Three other great writers also have their work here.

https://www.episodicreading.com/bookshelf

I have paperback copies of Drowning for sale. If anyone would be interested in buying one, give me a holler.

Finally, I think I earn a little bit of money if someone clicks on the advertisements used in my blog. If you read this and you wouldn't mind doing it, would you click? I think I have earned a little over a dollar. 

Crossbytes Contemplation 1: Tomorrow might not be here for you.

I've struggled with what I want to do with my blog, and one of my former students suggested I base them on the #crossbytes I used to make up for my seniors when the time for their graduation neared. Since so many seniors might not experience the joy of graduation, I thought now might be a good time to start.

It’s May 15 as I write this. As I sit here and wonder what tomorrow might bring, I realize we have no guarantee of tomorrow. I also realize that if we spend each day worrying about whether or not we have tomorrow, the time will pass until we really don’t, and then we’ll realize how much time we wasted worrying about it.  You might have to read that twice, but sooner or later it will make sense to you.

 

I’m thinking of my new novel, Masters of Camelot. One of the themes of this novel is that today, tomorrow and yesterday are all connected. The roots that we planted grow into the trees of today and those roots will extend into the future. The subject matter is Camelot and we know how the stories of Camelot have passed from generation to generation, and as long as we believe there is a place for heroes and that there should be might for right, then the stories will continue to be passed along. I fear that might not be much longer.

Don't look so far back into then or so forward to when that you overlook now. #crossbyte

I wrote this crossbyte about five years ago. I don’t think I have ever written anything that is more relevant than this. I think about where I am now and realize that I need to appreciate the now.  I’m 61 and I have prostate cancer. It was caught early and probably the surgery will get all of it, and I could live many more years, but -- therein lies the issue. I put the emphasis on could. I just read in our local paper that a nearby long-term facility has become a hot-spot for Covid 19. I think about how I have a compromised immune system with my cancer and how I also have sleep apnea. I could be one of those people gasping for breath on a ventilator. It's a depressing, bleak thought, and I wish I could stop thinking it, but there are times when I can't, when the very anxiety I feel about it bring on the symptoms that terrify me.

 

I have tried not to dwell on such possibilities because they drain out the joy of the now. What about now?

 

This morning, it was a cool 65 degrees, so I want outside to drink my coffee and say my morning prayers. My little dog joined me and sat on my lap and enjoyed the moment as much as I. As I sipped my coffee, I listened to a chorus of birds: blue jays, mockingbirds, cardinals. It was a grand and glorious sound. Somewhere nearby, a croaking frog joined in. Even though his song was not as beautiful as the birds, I couldn’t help thinking of the verse in the Bible that says, “Make a joyful noise.” This frog sounded pretty joyful.

 

I’m bipolar and the smallest things get me down. Lately, I have thought a lot about the writing I do. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve had any good news about it, and this morning I found out that a screenplay I’d entered in two contests tanked badly. I sometimes wonder if my writing is something I should just forget. It takes time away from other things I could be doing for sure. Then I think about how much fun it is and how much power and satisfaction I feel when I am creating my worlds. I believe that writing is something that connects me with the only creator and writer that matters, and because of that, I’ll keep at it even if I never sell another thing.

 

While the roots of our lives stretch back, we have to remember that without them, we wouldn’t be the flower we are today and we wouldn’t have the chance to keep flowering in the future. I find it difficult to capture my thoughts with words, so the preceding sentence may make no sense to you, but the bottom line is this:

 

Don’t put off today by worrying too much about yesterday or tomorrow. Today is all we are guaranteed.

 

Just in case you might like to buy it, I’m posting the link to Masters of Camelot.

 

https://www.amazon.com/Masters-Camelot-Steven-Cross-ebook/dp/B0887TDM77/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=masters+of+camelot&qid=1589151135&s=digital-text&sr=1-1