OK, so I had great intentions about posting regularly when I started this. . . then again, we all know which road is paved with good intentions. I wanted to put some time between the first two posts, but I didn't really intend for it to be almost four months.
It's now spring break, and it's fantastic to unwind from a really, really busy and somewhat draining past few months. January wasn't so bad - even the LC tourney wasn't too stressful this year - but February was brutal. Because the Milton tournament ended up being postponed until the first weekend in February due to snow, we ended up with four tournaments in a row. . . which for me meant working four six-day weeks in a row (and losing more than half of our winter break due to NFL districts). To make matters worse, I had two really bad bugs (or one really bad bug and a nasty relapse) in February and was pretty close to the sickest that I've ever been. (And because I hate dealing with making plans for subs, I took a whopping one-half day of sick leave in the midst of that. . . of course, I also missed the first night of districts because I was too sick to leave the hotel.) March brought spring lit, GHSGT, and the end of the nine weeks. . . let's just say that it has been pretty stressful since Christmas break.
Anyhow, back to where I was back in December and the whole "re-evaluate my priorities" thing. . . I already discussed my wreck and how aware I was that I could have been killed as a result of it. If I needed any reinforcements regarding my understanding of the fragility of my mortality, I got them the next week. On the Sunday afternoon after my wreck, I received a phone call from Jeanie Smith (who besides being the LCHS media specialist grew up in the same church that I did, albeit a few years ahead of me, so we basically go back a few decades) telling me that Dana O'Neill had had an aneurysm burst and was in critical condition.
Dana was our school registrar/guidance secretary, but that doesn't adequately describe what she meant to so many people, including me. She was an incredibly devoted wife, mother, and grandmother. . . a dedicated and involved member of her church (Kiokee Baptist, where Claude and I are also members). . . a concerned and always willing to listen friend. All of that love and devotion came from her passion for Christ and her desire to be a woman after God's own heart; she saw her role at LCHS as her mission field, and she witnessed to more students than any of us will ever be able to count. Much of her time each summer was devoted to her work at Camp Hope, and she participated in many mission trips, most recently at the orphanage that her sister operates in Honduras. While I have no doubt that she, like Paul, believed that "to live is Christ, and to die is gain," I also don't doubt that, as she was teaching Sunday school with her husband that morning, it never occurred to her that for all intents and purposes, her life on earth with the people and places that she loved so dearly would be over within a few hours. (She was in the emergency room when the aneurysm burst; she went into a coma after surgery and was declared brain dead that Wednesday. . . she passed away on Thursday.)
It really struck me (not that I didn't know it already, but. . . ) that we really don't have any idea when it's going to be our time. I think that in our heart of hearts, most of us believe that all of those things that take people before "their time" (whatever that is) happen to other people. Other people die in car accidents. Other people have aneurysms just lying in wait to burst and kill us. Other people have terminal cancer. Other people are the victims of random crime (as in. . . other schools are attacked by deranged students). Yet one of my mother's first cousins died in a car accident. . . my own grandfather died of a ruptured aneurysm. . . my aunt died of a brain tumor. . . one of my father's first cousins and his wife were stabbed to death in their own home. . . a student was killed about fifteen years ago in a school shooting about fifteen minutes from my house. You'd think that I know better. . . and that given my own number of near misses (for example, in 98% of all accidents involving tractor trailer trucks and cars, either the car's driver or a passenger or both are killed. . . I hit one with a Honda Civic and was hardly even sore the next day), I wouldn't need any more reminders that I need to follow Thoreau's advice to simplify and keep my accounts on my thumbnail.
Knowing all of that hasn't slowed me down just yet - too many chores for this school year were set in motion before December - but next school year will be a different story, I've decided. I don't want to look back on my life and (borrowing from Thoreau again) discover that, for a good portion of it at least, I have not lived. . . or (borrowing from John Lennon) that my life has happened while I've been busy making other plans.
On a more pleasant and far less philosophical note. . . we have puppies! No, they weren't planned. . . and yes, they were fathered by a brother and sister. (Before you start humming the theme from Deliverance - and yes, I've heard that already - you should know that there are reputable breeders who breed only in-line. . . and the puppies are also AKC registered. So there. :-)) For your viewing pleasure, here's Super Pooka (a valiant superhero disguised as a mild-mannered six week-old basset hound puppy) with her penguin cape.
