I want to tell you a story. It's a simple story - of a teacher who profoundly influences a student, resulting in life changing consequences.
Before I start the story let me remind you of my history. I lost my father suddenly, with no warning at the age of six. It changes a person - even a little person - forever. My life after that point was never, ever the same. And I don't think I realized just how 'different' it was until my high school years....when everyone all around me had 'two parent' homes and I had a 'one parent' home. And a one parent home where the surviving parent was shattered and broken and (some days) hanging on by a fingernail, even after more than a decade since the death. I was lost in so many ways - seeking something. Not sure what. Looking.
And this: my entire life, I have always known when someone was 'important' to me, even before they WERE important to me. This has been true for my entire life - a 'feeling' I have that leads me to the people I need to be with.
Mr. B. was my high school band director. Every year, during elementary school, he would visit our band and recruit the 8th graders to join the high school band. I knew the minute I first saw him, in 5th grade, that getting to know him was going to be very important to me.
My freshman year of high school was miserable. I was a little fish in a big pond, after having been a big fish in a little pond - an honor student, outstanding band award, outstanding girl citizen of my 8th grade class and moving into a huge high school where I was no one. Nothing. I didn't adjust well to that change and suffice it to say that my freshman year sucked. I hated school. I threatened to drop out on many occasions. My mom was frantic - (I now realize she hid it very well - I am far less obvious with my own children so I now know just how worried she felt). I was encouraged by my high school counselor to 'get involved. Find something you love to do and do it'. So, I loved band - the one fun class. And when Mr. B. asked for a volunteer to be his student assistant and band librarian at the end of my freshman year, I jumped at the chance.
He became one of my best friends. And my life changed. And I loved him. And I know he knew that. And he accepted it.
This is going to be a long post - but I want to tell the story - to try to share with you just how much he meant to me and why. Because he died last week. And I just found out. I can't even type those words without crying again. I just can't fathom this earth still rotating on it's axis without him - and yet, the earth is. And I am still breathing. So I know I have grown up 'cuz if this had happened 30 years ago (the year I graduated from high school), I'm pretty sure I would have stopped breathing by now. But I'm still here.
There are so many stories to tell. So many things I could share with you that would illustrate how wonderful a person he was....and how blessed I was to have him in my life. I will share this one story - the story I would have probably shared at his memorial service...if I'd been there. I wasn't. And I am grieving about that - though I completely understand. The family loses a loved one and there is a list of people to call - and you get through some parts of the list and not others. I know that happens 'cuz we did the same thing when our mom died. You just get to where you can't call anyone else. You have to stop calling, make it through the services and then you start calling again when you can. And today, his wife called our home and talked to J. And J. told me when I got home - he didn't want to tell me at work. Mr. B. (Reg, as I called him as an adult) died on October 27th. His services were last Thursday.
So - the one story.
Mr. B.'s youngest daughter was a gymnast. And one year (I think this was my Junior year - but I'm not sure...time is fuzzy)...anyway - one year, she was supposed to go to a big gymnastic meet and she wasn't able to go. She got really sick - rare for her - and she was devastated that she wasn't able to attend. And I was in Mr. B's office when he called home to check on her - he talked to his wife....and was doing all the usual things a 'dad' does - how is she? Has she eaten anything? Should I bring her anything? Does she still have a fever? All those typical 'dad' things. And I was sitting there, in his office, waiting for him to finish so I could talk to him about some music I was getting ready for the band - and I suddenly had to get up and leave. I didn't want him to see me tearing up. Crying, actually. I left and went across the hall into the choral room next door and started playing on the piano. A little time went by - and he came in and said 'you OK?'. I said 'yes'. Silence for a few minutes. One of the songs the choral group was singing was 'It's Not Easy Being Green' - the Kermit the Frog song....and I said 'it's not easy being green. Different'. I was so overwhelmed with those feelings of loss - for what I didn't have. No dad to call and check on me. No dad to bring me things or ask how I was doing. I had none of that. Just me...muddling through. And - in one of the rare moments when he would risk what might be seen as 'inappropriate' - he touched me on the shoulder. Just for a second. And said 'it will get easier. I promise. I PROMISE'.
He was right. I grew up. College was challenging and full of changes and adjustments. After a year at a community college in Phoenix, I moved to California. I visited Mr. B. at school every time I was in town - never missed the chance to visit him. And I missed him - missed seeing him everyday. Leaving high school had been the hardest thing I'd ever done - I was so incredibly sad to be leaving him. I would have happily stayed forever if I'd been able to. I could have graduated as a junior and didn't - because I didn't want to give up that last year of seeing him everyday.
Three years after I graduated, he suffered a devastating stroke. And I sought out my elementary school band teacher during a visit to my home town and he marched me into an office, gave me a phone number and said 'CALL NOW'. So I called Mr. B's home and spoke to his wife - and she immediately invited me over to visit. And that visit was the start of getting to know him as an adult....sharing my life with him AND his lovely wife. Becoming friends...being able to tell him, in person, how much I love him. Which I did every time I visited him.
I have been his friend for 30 years. He has been my mentor and role model for 30 years. I love him more than I can even describe.
I named a son after Reg. A fitting tribute to the person who most influenced my life. Who taught me to work hard, be responsible. Be yourself. Trust your gut. Love deeply. Let go of being afraid of losing someone and just enjoy the time you have with them. Life is short.
I am so sad .....stunned into a quiet crying. There are mountains of Kleenex next to my laptop. J. has offered dinner...water....hugs. Nothing can stop the fountain of tears. I have dreaded this day for 30+ years...and as prepared as I thought I was, I am not. I did not prepare for this sadness. I am lost.....
But it will get better. I know it will. He promised. And I know he's right.
Thank you, Reg - for choosing to love a student. For letting that student love you back. For sharing your life with me. For allowing me in. For being there. For letting me honor you by naming my son after you. I'm reminded of a line from a movie 'how lucky I am to have loved someone that saying goodbye to is so damned awful'. Thank you for being that person to me...for letting me love you as a father all these years. For letting me get to know you and your wife as an adult. For being there for me all during high school - all the little things you did that made me feel so special - made me feel so cared for at a time when I desperately needed that. Taking the keys from you as we marched off the field in marching band - the privilege of unlocking the band room door ahead of everyone else. Putting your baton on the podium for you at every concert. Picking up your paycheck every payday from the school office and telling the office person (who called EVERY SINGLE TIME I picked up the check, payday after payday) 'yes, I trust her. Please give her my check. She'll bring it right to me'. So many little, special things - that took a painfully shy, sad teenage girl and helped her become a poised, confident young lady. Everything I am today can be tied back to those small, little things. I can never thank you enough for that. Never. You will never know how much you meant to me. And how, especially now - as I raise my own two teen sons - I realize how lucky I was to have met such an amazing educator and person at such a young age.
In Memory
Reginald E. Brooks
May 14, 1935 - October 27, 2008
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