The people that work for me (a.k.a. my teenagers) are slathering the thirsty deck with a long-overdue application of stain. I’m way past the point of caring if it’s done proper and perfect, resting instead in the satisfaction of a job well done by hands-in-training that try their best. The challenge lies in keeping my gaze on the beautiful wood that drinks deep, instead of allowing my eyes to wander up the house walls of cedar siding that tower overhead with parched envy. We’ll save that project for another day (or perhaps another year) because the warm summer days are getting shorter and I can feel the approaching spin cycle also known as September coming on.
With the agitation of overlapping football, soccer and volleyball schedules heading my way, I guess I have no choice but to follow the snowbirds to Arizona. Oh WAIT! That won’t work. I still have kids at home who need clean clothes, dinner, a prayer and a pep talk from time to time. So instead, I’ll do what I do best: look around and learn from the faithful few who aren’t afraid to dive in and kick hard.
The Powell Butte Charter School has been a beehive of activity lately as parents and eager teachers prepare to breathe new life into what it means to educate the next generation. I’m inspired by their ability to raise hope and cash and follow through on their promise to deliver both in short order.
And then there’s this little company that’s reconnected me with friends, family and my roots. Maybe you’ve heard of them? Facebook stepped up and dipped their toe in the water at the Crook County Fair Livestock Auction, and brought a sigh of relief to a crowd of crossed fingers. I’m hoping that over time though they’ll venture on up to the high dive and learn, from veteran community supporters like Les Schwab, that jumping in headfirst is where the rubber really meets the road.
Some fire hydrants got a fresh coat of paint from a new breed of year-round athletes that have erased the term “off-season” from their vocabulary in order to pay for the things that other schools take for granted, like bus rides and referees. And I may or may not have observed a posse of dumpster-diving parents at the County Fair who couldn’t stand to see a nickel go to the landfill instead of toward a well-deserved helmet for our quarterback. But, don’t blame them! They’ve been mentored by the likes of Doug Smith, who carries donations of refundable water bottles home in his briefcase every night…the FREAK!
Guess that means, from now on, you’ll have to call me a Freak-In-Training because I’m chasing after those lifeguards of hope whose persistence and perseverance silence the pessimist in me that keeps expecting the pool of effort and creativity to dry up and blow away. They continue to pour out fresh energy and ideas in an economy that threatens to whither even the deepest of wells. And it’s out of that dedication and experience that the youth among us will learn how to become tributaries that branch off and beckon others to come on in! The water’s fine!
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