Motivation

When I was an undergraduate at ISU in the late 70's, it was a curious time. Like all of Idaho, trends were a bit slow arriving or maybe leaving, so unlike most of the rest of the world who dived into diva and disco madness after 1973, ISU still languished in the hippy world. One professor had a class entitled Dreams, Visions and Musings. It was a 300 level course, but I knew to stay away. First, the reading material was not as important to this instructor as the ways he helped students achieve dreams, visions and musings through the use of mushrooms and some other pharmaceutical and herbal helps. Not only did I not like him or his curriculum, but some friends told me to avoid anything he taught at all costs, because he hated Mormons and "family-type" people. Although I loved the music of the 60's and even some of the charm of wanting a society that did not define itself with money or class system, I despised the drug culture and felt the loss of those deeply affected by excess.

I was in my mid twenties at that time. I had short hair. I had a wife and two children. And I was as devoted to my faith as I am now.

There was another professor. It was a class I had to take, since I was going to become a foreign language teacher. Dr. Greenwood was her name, and she introduced us to some interesting ideas. First, there were potential teachers from three language areas--Spanish, French and German. Each student had to teach the class basic grammar and cultural lessons to the class of different backgrounds and goals. I was an irritation to me. I was young, and I viewed it as a waste of time. Students not only had to present subject matter, but each student also had to adjust to the demographics--teaching people who had little if any knowledge of what we were presenting. It would be a task I would have to do every day as a public school teacher. The assumption that everyone sits in a classroom ready for learning is a silly notion.

One day in class I complained about French being too difficult. Dr. Greenwood looked at me, her hands on hips, her brows separated by a deep crease, her voice silent as she measured what she would say: three things that only happened when something really annoyed her. "It is because you are stupid," she told me.

For anyone who has ever enjoyed the steam and stream of a very hot shower shortly before someone threw a large glass or mug of ice water over the curtain or door, you know how I felt briefly. Her comment shocked me. But it was that kind of thing that motivated me. It did then, and it still does. However, it only works if that kind of thing only happens once. If massive amounts of negative vibes and rhetoric coming my way were a postive thing in my life, I would have become a rocket scientist immediately after my fourth grade year, the nine months from hell.

She threw everything from my desk onto the floor in a large heap one day. Some small spaceships I made from notebook covers and paste were at the top of the heap. The teacher waited for the class to return from recess, and then she gave this soliloquoy to embarrass me, while wadding up some of my creations in her hand and spiking them into the trash can. I only remember two words she used to refer to me, stupid and retarded. Oh, I and I almost forgot the word "lazy."

I met her immediately after finishing my graduate degree in '79. It was an absolute thrill to tell her that I had been on the dean's list every semester, and as a parting word, I told her how I graduated with honors.

In the late 80's I met her after finishing my MA in English at Utah State. And I could not contain my joy at informing her of graduating with a 3.97 grade point average.

While at Mayo Clinic, my PT or physical therapist, whom Ann and I enjoyed and liked very much, used Dr. Greenwood's method in motivating me to improve my life. The swelling on my legs is a factor, but she used the word "fat." It was not mean. I needed to hear it, so that I can get my body in shape to do a cruise early next summer in Italy and Greece.

My motivation is not just travel. It is about being with my Annie as long as I can, living long enough to spoil my grandchildren even more than they are now, seeing my children continue to do so well. That is why I started the blog with my three grandchildren on the hill. A person would have to have Prestone in their veins not to feel the need to continue to live for grandchildren. The sparkle in their eyes, the bounce in their step, the music in their laughter are all things that are important to me, but I would like to see that in my Annie too. And when I am brave enough to look in a mirror, I want to see it in my eyes. That's where Italy and Greece come into the picture.