A Couple Of Friends

It was the winter solstice of 2025.  It was brisk.  It was cloudless. It was a day of blue skies.  It was also a day with good friends.  I’ve known Scott and Justin seemingly forever.  They’re now both principals in their respective schools, but before that we taught together in the Prairie Hill School District.  Scott joined the staff in 2002 and Justin in 2011.  By that time I had a decade or two under my belt.

Over the years we’ve traipsed together through snow and over ice.  We’ve marched in swampy muck.  We’ve paddled down snaking rivers and across ripple surfaced lakes.  We’ve run together on black topped paths, along wooded trails, and in various races and marathons.  We’ve fished and we’ve cooked meals over a small open fire in remote areas.  In other words, I’m not sure I could come up with a sound number for the amount of times that the three of us have gotten together or headed out on an adventure.  It’s been a healthy plethora!

But it had been a while since our last get-together, so it made sense to reassemble over Winter Break.  Beyond “when” we went, “where” we went, and “what” we did, I found that it was more about “how” the trip transpired.  While enjoying the company, I found myself analyzing our time and the way we were interacting.  It wasn’t a formal case study or anything like that.  It bordered more on an out-of-body reflection.  We talked of course.  Each of us inadvertently shared what had been going on in our lives since the last time—all while we drove and hiked.

Once we had arrived at our familiar destination, deep in the woods and along moving water, we each went to work.  I found our efforts both interesting as well as refreshing.  When the time comes that I can no longer do such things, or am scattered to the four winds, they’ll easily know what to do to carry on with another generation of friends.  They don’t know all of my secret spots, but they know enough of them, and that’s all that really matters.

We set about finding dead wood, small twigs, and dried grass as tinder.  We did that automatically with hardly a word.  After we had brought our offerings to the river bank, we coaxed the fire into existence and cooked our food.  During the process there were times when it was actually quiet.  It wasn’t awkward. It felt natural.  We knew how this was all going to play out, so it didn’t need anything additional.  It simply felt good to mumble a few things and then stare into the flames while we waited for the food to finish cooking.  And while that was happening we each did a task that needed to be done.  It happened intrinsically because we’ve done this a hundred times together.  We know the next step is going to either be stirring ingredients, adding salt and pepper, putting some sticks on the fire, leveling the frying pan, or nestling the pot of water closer to the coals.  While eating, we remembered other such times when we had done this very same type of thing with funny or unusual sidebar events that happened simultaneously.

In the end we hiked and we ate.  But through it all we also did what simply needed to be done while enjoying the process of being together.  Friendships look different depending on a host of variables.  For Scott, Justin, and me it started a long time ago in a school building where as staff members we weren’t just colleagues, we became friends that shared common interests.  It’s the kind of situation that not only makes a staff stronger, it allows friendships to transcend time.  I suppose the connection that the three of us have is unique and a little out of the ordinary when it comes to the activities that bring us together, but it works, and we enjoy it.

See you along The Way…

And A Few Random Pictures From The Past:

Justin, Scott, & Me - Winter Of 2012 Or 2013

Paddling The Sugar River - Fall 2023

At My Daughter's Wedding - Winter 2023

Fishing The Kishwaukee River - Summer 2025

First Day Of School

First Day Of School Picture - 2024

Since as long as I can remember I’ve had a “First Day Of School” (often with a picture); dating back to the fall of 1971 when I started attending.  I can recall waiting in our driveway for the school bus as a kindergartner - at the top of the hill, on an unnamed road North of Sparr (known at that time simply as “Rural Route #1”), waiting to travel the seemingly long way to Johannesburg Elementary on the north-side of a small Kindergarten-12th grade building.  I had attended preschool the year before that with my teacher Mrs. Driscoll.  The preschool met in the basement of Gaylord’s small St. Andrew's Episcopal Church with the unique chalet style roof; a good deterrent for our heavy snowfall in Northern Michigan.  Mom was the one who drove me into town that year, and although foundational, it was only a couple of times a week.

I started at Joburg Elementary School a month after turning 5; the birthday when I received my blue scooter that I’d ride down the grassy hill off our backyard - dragging it by the handle back to the top or leaving it at the bottom until someone helped me.  Over the next few years a couple of the neighbor kids would congregate at our driveway before school because my Dad had put in a tetherball court just back from the road.  That meant that the pole was a maple tree cut from the woods, fixed at the top with an eye bolt that the rope and ball hung from, which was a perfect remedy to while away the time as us kids waited to be picked up by the bus.

First Day Of School Picture - 1971

As I reflect back, I guess I’ve had a first day of school for most of my life; 54 years to be exact.  I’m not sure how the years slipped by like that!  It feels monumental, and yet overwhelming at the same time.  It’s kind of John Henry-esque.  I love John’s fortitude, his style, and the legacy he left.  He’s outright my favorite folk tale hero.  And while he wins against the machine in the well known ballad, he dies from that contest with his hammer in his hand.  I suppose I feel something like that.  For 18 of those 54 years I was a student; preschool through college.  And after a year of student teaching, getting married, and working for a lawn service (the last while sending out resumes with a cover letter), I was hired and taught in a 5th grade classroom for 35 years; all in the same K-8 district.

Right this minute the kids and teachers of that district are putting the final touches on their first week of school.  They’ve been using these first few days to reacquaint themselves with routines, introduce expectations, and begin to build healthy relationships that will catapult them into next week’s full 5 days and the school year ahead.  I know this because it’s ingrained in my make-up and DNA.  I could teach with my eyes blind folded and one arm tied behind my back, because I have done it for so long, I was good at it, and loved it to boot!

As for me right now?  I’m sitting on our back deck, under the eaves and close to the house, journaling my thoughts into this worn composition book.  Not because it’s in the shade, although that’s a plus even with the unseasonably cool weather we’re having right now, but because a spider has spun an intricate web between the other chairs, table, and collapsed umbrella.  For 35 years I’ve taught science, and today will not be the day I break one of my many mottos which stated, “Don’t kill it unless you plan on eating it.  If you don’t plan on eating it, don’t kill it!”  Those were words to live by as a teacher instructing 10 and 11 year olds, and especially when it’s a cross orbweaver spider!  So the arachnid is getting free reign of the table area right now, and I’m writing with this journal in my lap.  Good luck little fella.  May you snare a big juicy arthropod.  From the bits of dried exoskeletons on the tabletop, you’ve done just that over the last couple of days!

So yes, I’m retired now; whatever that means.  Those I began teaching with (the same teachers that started soon after the 3 one-room school houses combined) have been retired for some time now.  I’m simply joining them.  Again, I’m not sure how the years slipped by like that, but they have.  I consider myself a link between those who established our district and those who are now teaching and setting new standards to match the changing times.  I don’t mean that I’m stuck between the past and present.   I see myself as a combination of both; having started with chalkboards & the occasional use of calculators, and then moving to whiteboards & a computer lab, before settling on Smart Boards & one-to-one student Chromebooks.  There has always been a past that goes further back than whatever we can recall, and there will always be a present going forward beyond what we can imagine; for all of us.  The jump in technology in the span of years that I taught, however, has been astronomical.

If I gained a millimeter of jumping ability for everyone who has asked me how retirement is treating me (insert Mr. Rhines’ metric system speech number #124.8b), then I could easily tomahawk dunk by now!  I get it, you need a standard question to start a conversation.  It’s like asking an 18 year old, “How’s college going?”  Assuming they are going that route over entering the trades, signing up for the military, or diving into the job force.  My standard answer this summer has been, “I don’t know yet…”  I spent all of June dismantling my museum of a classroom.  The first part of July was time to travel; with my wife to visit family, and then camping in Northern Michigan with my cousins, before settling into jobs around the house.  I’m not sure where August went, other than writing thank you cards for retirement gifts.  I guess I was simply trying to search for a routine while getting regrounded in running and biking.  Part of that time was dealing with the guilt that rises from knowing that teachers were preparing for school and I wasn’t.  Or that I’m retired but, “still so young” - as if the sacrifices or “sell my soul” attitude I’ve had all these years while teaching, coaching, being the athletic director, working intramurals, mentoring, or co-leading our environmental club wasn’t enough of a reason.  Not to mention the preparation for the annual creek walk day, 5th grade camp, summer camps, or any number of various activities.  These were choices, not chores in the sense of obligations.  I grew up on a small farm, so I know what chores are, and I loved 95% of those too!  Minus weeding the garden in the hot sun, although it often had its rewards with a trip to the lake to cool off once my sisters and I stopped whining and finished the task.  It’s where I learned firsthand the whole idea of delayed gratification.  What I did at school was what I loved to do because I chose to do it; it provided some of my identity and purpose, as many people feel who have connected with their careers.  Whatever task I had decided to do at school involved everything I had; sometimes spread over the many activities, but something I could always hang my hat on with pride at the end of the day.

About now school is letting out and the staff is talking in the hallways; themselves excited about the coming weekend, and I have to wonder, “What now?”  I recently saw a sit down conversation between Oprah Winfrey and NBC’s meteorologist, Al Roker, who was about to turn 70 years old.  When contemplating time, getting older, and next steps, her advice to him was, “When you don’t know what to do, do nothing.” In other words, “Be still.”  Al replied as a network spokesperson by saying, “We don’t like dead air!”  Personally, that bell rang loud and true; right upside my head.

Colleagues from yesteryear suggested that I go do something last week as the students returned to school.  Since my wife was working and enjoying her job in the library at a nearby college, I took a solo trip Up North into Wisconsin to camp and fish; a couple of other passions I have.  For me, trips like that don’t lead to being still and doing nothing.  It seemed I was constantly moving, while burning energy.  That’s often how I like to relax.  Don’t get me wrong, there were times when I would sit and either observe nature around me or read from the two books I have going right now; Gathering Moss by Robin Wall Kimmerer, and The Backyard Adventurer by Beau Miles.  The first book I bought at a cool, quaint, shop in Waco, Texas while visiting our daughter and son-in-law, and the second was given to me by my kids upon my retirement.  I guess I also relaxed the first night after setting up camp, when I woke up from only two hours of sleep to the light of a nearly full moon; listening to the barred owls calling in the hollow, coyotes laughing up on the ridges, and a family of raccoons trooping around my tent and picnic table foraging for anything I may have forgotten to store away back up in my Jeep - which fortunately I had not.  The second night of my stay I slept like the dead.

When I burned energy I was often cooking over an open fire (cutting and prepping food), trout fishing in a creek that bounces between bluffs of exposed Cambrian sandstone (in waders against the current), or running beautiful dirt trails (in what would otherwise be known as rugged terrain).  I wanted to journal while sitting outside my tent, but the process of what I deem as camping kept me from doing that this particular time, until I could return home and reflect.

I took my obligatory “First Day Of School” picture this year, but I’m standing on a gravel bar in the shade of a hemlock covered bluff (as opposed to standing beside the flag hanging on our home, or in front of the school).  At least I remembered to smile with my eyes open this year.  In 1989, my first year teaching, the photographer captured a picture of me with my eyes closed.  I didn’t care or know any better, so I didn’t participate in “retakes.”  Plus, those were the days when you waited for the film to be developed before we knew what digital photography really meant.  Consequently, I was not in that year’s class picture or school yearbook, except for one or two random shots and the one where I’m standing next to my first basketball team as their coach.  Suddenly I cared!  From then on, I always made sure my eyes were open; and I mean that literally and figuratively - as an awareness to what’s going on around me.

School, teaching, and living your passions in general, are meant to be relational.  It’s one way that we associate directly and make connections.  When I watch my favorite TV show, Alone, it’s what the contestants are always whittled down to…regardless of whether they are starving, injured, or pushing themselves to the utmost in order to win the whole shebang.  They eventually desire some degree of human contact; be it friends or family, past or present.  That applies to the most introverted hermit, to the most outgoing life of the party.  We all need relationships of some kind, which is why I love the irony in the multi-layer title Alone.  It’s also why I like the stories behind those first day of school pictures.

While I myself am going to miss many of the connections I have at school, I am looking forward to maintaining them, albeit under slightly different circumstances.  After a healthy break, I would entertain being a guest speaker or storybook reader at school, baking treats for the staff, attending an after school activity, or coming in for an occasional lunch simply to visit.  One of the retirees from the past used to come back to eat lunch with the staff in the teacher’s lounge whenever we had, “Government Chicken Day” (as he called it).  I always found that hilarious, but it made sense as well to periodically reconnect.

In the meantime, and as I’m redefining myself, I’ll follow the advice written by the authors in the books that I mentioned.  Kimmerer stated, “Mosses have a covenant with change; their destiny is linked to the vagaries of rain.  They shrink and shrivel while carefully laying the groundwork for their renewal.  They give me faith.” (37)  Maybe it’s because I taught science for 35 years, but I love that whole idea of preparing now for the unknown of the future.  We all do that, knowingly or unknowingly, because even NOT making a decision is a decision.  She simply chose to convey that through the idea of mosses.  And from Miles’ book, he wrote, “To slow down ever so slightly, realising that a story needs purpose, and purpose is built on the everyday and ordinary, is harder than it sounds given there’s so much of it… [This means that] smaller tales build within the bigger picture like muscle supported by bone.” (14)

All in all, the takeaways for this are to find something that can be therapeutic.  I chose reflecting in a journal to put some of the thoughts and feelings of my own education and years of educating into words; while contrasting that with my time in the outdoors.  Events and experiences that you have lived through are not the end all, but they are building blocks - in all their facets of being good, bad, or indifferent.

Oh, and remember to smile with your eyes open for that “First Day Of School” picture; wherever that may be and no matter what particular moment you are actually capturing.  There’s a story behind that snapshot.  I’ll remember that next week when I gather with my colleague-friends at the retiree breakfast.  Say Cheese!

See you along The Way…

Long Time

 

On the way out to Sugar River’s wooded, bluff-top, ridge, while driving small country roads, my prayer was that our gathering would somehow bring a wide variety of people into a funneled commonality.  I had really worked hard these past few weeks reaching out to about every man I’ve known who’s worked within the Prairie Hill School District (Made up of Prairie Hill School & now Willowbrook Middle School).  I can go back that far into the past archives because overall there hasn’t been that many men in comparison to the women staff members.  Most of the men I emailed, some I called on the phone, and a few I contacted by writing letters.  Some chose not to come, a few had previous commitments or life situations going on right now, but those who stepped forward and wanted to attend contributed to our largest gathering to date.  For those who have been a part of our group called the “Gulo Adventure Clan,” and our many outdoor outings, this one was a bit tamer but still equally important.  It allowed us to reach out beyond boundaries and simply come together; guys of all ages, with various amounts of years within our schools.

Halfway out to the Forest Preserve, and the old limestone shelter, Boston’s song entitled, “Long Time” began playing on the radio.  Although the lyrics may have been more about moving on from a relationship, the theme resonated strongly in that it has been a while since we’ve gathered together as a large group of friends.  I smiled as I remembered that I had joked with a few friends prior to this, that our outing was kind of like “The Island of Misfit Toys.”  We ranged in age from 26 to 84 with some who had invested in our district for just one year, and others for over three decades.  As staff members we represented different job titles including: teacher, technology coordinator, D.A.R.E. officer, aide, coach, principal, and superintendent (and a few men were a combination of two or three of those titles).  Each of us have contributed to our schools using the unique gifts that we’ve been granted.

A couple of the men started at Prairie Hill back in the 1960’s; only a few years after our area’s three one-room schools had consolidated.  Back then the educators in our district taught several grade levels at the same time as there were only a handful of students per grade.  Does it even make sense to say, “Oh how the times have changed in just 60 short years?”  Believe me when I say that they have.  And I’ve only been here for a little over 30 of those years!  Hence the misfit toys reference.  Fortunately those toys (in the movie “Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer”) were all picked up by Santa and eventually delivered to children who would love them.  Likewise, not everything has been smooth sailing over the years in our district, but overall most has been, and we have definitely persevered.  Ultimately we continue to make a difference in the lives of students and our community, while oftentimes becoming friends with our colleagues at the same time.

It was with this mentality that I was spurred on to try to gather as many men together as possible.  People need a frame of reference.  People need to know that although the work they are doing now is important, there have been a lot of people who have put in just as much work prior to this.  Work in a school can be foundational.  Sometimes bricks are stacked, and sometimes they are restacked after a leveling line has been snapped, but regardless, the educational wall continues to be built.  How’s that for a visual parable?

Yesterday’s weather was awesome.  Yesterday’s gathering was mind blowing for me personally.  I can’t help but wonder how a simple request to gather can lead to us actually doing just that.  How does it happen?  Why do people want to gather?

When a few of us first began getting together for fun years ago, I made “Membership Cards.”  Printed on the cards were various quotes that meant something to me at the time.  They still do.  I did, however, in the spirit of finally being able to get together following this pandemic, redesign the cards.  Those who have the originals are now holding onto priceless heirlooms full of memories and nostalgia.  The new membership cards are printed with better color contrasts that allow the words to be more legible.  In addition, I chose new quotes to better exemplify the Gulo Adventure Clan as we move into uncharted territory.  I feel the words embody who we are, and our purpose going forward as friends and colleagues; past and present:

• "We learn all of our most important lessons through story, and story deepens all of our most important lessons...This whole story began with something relational.” - John Eldredge (Epic)

• “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

• “Courage, faith, love - these all must be cultivated.” - Bishop Michael Curry (Love is the Way)

• “There is no better way to recapture the spirit of an era than to follow old trails, gathering from the earth itself the feelings and challenges of those who trod them long ago...that while great events may find themselves in books and museums, it is the people themselves who really counted.” - Sigurd Olson (Streams of the Past)

While everyone today received new cards to replace our old ones, five men were presented a first-time card as new members.  That alone is pretty humorous, because while their membership may be new, their faces and time in our district are not.  For that, I personally say that I appreciate all that they have done.

As the names rolled in over the last week for those who wanted to come and attend, I simply shook my head.  It was beyond my belief and understanding.  I also lifted my eyes with palms facing upwards and said, “Thank you.”  Thank you God that after a long time, we were able to meet together as a group.  After a long time we were able to recognize others who worked, and taught, and educated before us.  After a long hiatus we were able to look beyond ourselves, and see others who have been a part of the on-going process involved in education.

The Gulo Adventure Clan will still have times when we’ll escape and traipse into the woods, rivers, and snow, but I think gatherings like this will also need to be a part of our existence.  It provides us an opportunity to step back, talk, and rejuvenate; so that it doesn’t feel like such a “Long Time” since the last time we remembered our roots.

See you along The Way...

Some of the Members of the "Gulo Adventure Clan"
(Back Row): Scott Rogers, Justin Bonne, Joe Grygiel, Zach Hill,
Louie Gugliuzza, Tyler Lovgren, Chuck Leonard, Justin Keller,
Rick Sager, Tom Strothoff, Roger Fenrick
(Front Row): Myself, Doug Elfstrom, Mike Michowski, Andrew Westgate,
Andy Valentine, Ted Rehl, Jack Finlen, Mike Plourde

Willowbrook Women Adventure

Women from Willowbrook gathered at the park yesterday.  While there was a chill in the air to meet the rising sun, the warmth from the heat radiating off of the fire that was set deep in the limestone hearth permeated their souls.  It was a warmth initially sparked by months of separation, years of difficult expectations, and overall stress.  Yet, the crackling flames were fueled by commonality, friendships, and a desire for something better.

Healing, unity, and connections don’t happen haphazardly.  It takes intentional work.  It’s like traditions.  Sometimes it begins with a purposeful and planned action or event to help set the rock into place that becomes the cornerstone that marks when you begin to move ahead.  Occasionally it happens because something that occurred was welcomed, celebrated, and scheduled.

Today was a step in the right direction to perhaps lay the foundation for future gatherings.  Erwin Raphael McManus once wrote that we are, “different, but a part of the same tribe...walking in the same direction, but on a unique path.” (The Barbarian Way - 2005)  That sums us up as educators and humans alike; each with our unique gifts, personalities, and characteristics, putting one step in front of the other and doing the best that we can with what we know at the time.

I often wonder what I can personally do to help in certain situations.  How can I contribute to help rally the troops or provide comfort and relief?  I’ve found that what I am able to provide is never really the same response twice.  It’s not a constant variable.  Sometimes I speak, sometimes I write, and sometimes I listen.  Often it centers around the outdoors or actively doing something.  This time for the Willowbrook Women, together with the help of others, I simply set a date, made a reservation, and cooked a meal.  The ladies took care of the rest on their own.

Current teachers and support staff from each side of our school building bonded with teachers who have since moved into retirement or other opportunities outside of Willowbrook.  Together they talked, ate, and hiked the nearby trails.  Together they laughed from their hearts, and showed brief glimpses of their spirit.  The breakfast in the park was an avenue to move forward together, and that was vital on so many fronts.  Perhaps today will be the segue that not only becomes a tradition, but that welds a link within a chain that has a unified purpose.  It’s how seemingly small and insignificant events can become so important and vital.  Should we all be so fortunate as to be blessed with such an opportunity.

See you along The Way...

The Fire, Hearth, And Gathering

Justin And Me Cooking Breakfast In Cast Iron Skillets