Holiday Hiatus Over

All,

Sorry I took such a long break without notice, but it was holiday time. I know that without school I don't really have much of an excuse for taking a break, but, surprisingly I've been on the computer a lot less since I've been home. So...what should I talk about? What I got for Christmas, maybe? I think not. If you're interested, e-mail me (jmbelch@ncsu.edu). I think I'll write about something I've been thinking a lot about since before Christmas.

As I said in my first post, I've worked at summer camps for the past four summers. It's been a great run, and I loved almost every minute of it (those of you who have ever worked with kids knows what I mean). During my first two summers I worked at camp Rockfish near Fayetteville. Other than the highly motivated staff, there was nothing too exceptional about this camp, except that it was a part of Operation Purple. Haven't heard about it? I can't say I'm surprised, but it's a great program. The gist of Operation Purple, is that it is a program for children who have a parent deployed in the past year, or is currently deployed. The NMFA (National Military Family Association) runs OP, and its aim is to send military kids to summer camps for free. I can't say enough about the amount of good this program does for these kids and for the staff at these camps. I won't say too much more about OP, but if you're interested in learning more about it, check out its website here.

While thinking about OP, I couldn't help but think about the kids that I've come into contact while working at an OP camp. In general, the kids don't come from the best family situations--the boys especially. And, that's not all that surprising. They don't have a father figure at home, and their dad is most likely being shot at. That could make anyone's life much more interesting. I specifically remember two situations from my two summers at that camp. First, a brother-sister pair in my middle school leadership group who confided in me that they came from an abusive home. Without going into too much detail, their dad showed signs of PTSD which manifested in physical and verbal abuse, and their older sister was verbally/emotionally abusive towards them. And, second I remember when I found an eight year old boy crying, only to be informed the reason that he was crying was because he was missing his dad. Not an uncommon sight at camp, but I came to find out that his dad had been killed in action a year ago.

So, where am I going with this? I must admit, I'm not entirely sure. But, I guess where I'm going with this is to say that this Christmas, while I was spending time with my family exchanging gifts and eating entirely too much, I couldn't help but think of the kids I'd come in contact with. I thought about all the kids that I'd come in contact with that weren't going to have their fathers home for the holidays, the kids that didn't know who their dad is, and the kids that would be lucky to have one present under the tree. And, what prompted this line of thought, you ask? Oh...just that terribly sappy Christmas song about the shoes. I'll admit that as I listened to it on the radio I couldn't bring myself to change the station, because it prompted me to think of those kids. It made me smile and shed a couple tears all at the same time. So, I know I'm not the only one who thought this this holiday season, but did I really do enough for those in need over the past year? I'd like to think so, but there are days where I'm not sure. So, yes, I guess this is just another sappy holiday themed blog entry, but I needed to write this down. I don't really know why, since no one reads this (chuckling, transitioning to "bawwwww"), but it needed to be done. Anyway, happy early New Year, and I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season.

A Note and a Gift

I know my last post was relatively "heavy" and focused on wrestling with the problems of American education. And, I don't want to pigeonhole this blog as one devoted exclusively to dealing with tough concepts and ideas, so I figured this would be a good diversion from the (sometimes) overzealous writing of a prospective teacher.

As some of you may know, it's holiday season...again. This will be the twentieth Christmas season I've been a part of, and to be honest I can't say that I'm as enthused as I wished I was about it. Given, I now know where the cookies I left out for Santa went, and where the presents "from" Santa came from. Thanks again, Mom and Dad. The childhood wonder that makes Christmas time so special has lost its grip on me, but the events of the past couple days have gotten me thinking (who knows, maybe I shouldn't think about it too hard, but I did anyway).

It all started Friday night as I was driving to pick up my girlfriend so we could go to a friend's house for dinner. As I was driving down Hillsborough Street, I noticed a small piece of paper on the windshield wiper of my car. It had writing on it, but I couldn't read it at the time. As I was driving to my girlfriend's house, I was annoyed by the note. I figured it was a note saying something along the lines of "I dinged your car as I was backing up, my number is xxx-xxxx." Just to let those of you who haven't seen my car know, it's a piece of crap. But I say that affectionately. It's gotten me to and from Alabama twice and on other countless road trips across state lines, and for that I'm grateful. When I got to Jen's house, the first thing I did after I got out of the car was to pull the note off of my windshield wiper (how it hadn't fallen off my wiper or been completely destroyed in the bad weather this week, I'll never know) and read it. I wish I still had it, but it said something to this effect: "Your rear right tire is almost flat. You should probably put some air in it." I couldn't read the signature, but as I walked around to look at the tire, I thanked them. After that, though, I didn't think much of the note. I went to the dinner and had a good time with my girlfriend and our friends.

After the dinner I went to a party at an old Army ROTC buddy's place. While there I was able to have a good time and catch up with some guys that I don't see too often, now that I'm not a cadet. While I was talking with some of them and introducing myself to the unfamiliar people there, my friend Justin walked in. Now, Justin and I share a pretty strong bond, because not only was I in ROTC with him, but he lived in my suite freshman year. We saw a LOT of each other both freshman and sophomore years (those are the years I was a member of ROTC). Almost the first thing he said after we exchanged salutations was, "hey Belch, I have something for you." Long story short, later that night he took me up to his apartment (luckily it was in the same building) and was looking for what he wanted to give me. He couldn't find it, but what he was looking for was one of my old name tapes from my ROTC days. Apparently it had been hanging up in the supply room (or batcave as we came to know it), and he had thought to grab it for me. Again, at the time, I didn't think much of it.

Now a few days removed from the situation, I've had some time to think about these two incidents. I've determined that I'm thankful both to the unknown stranger who left that note and also to Justin for picking up that name tape. Christmas is coming up and I haven't even started shopping, but I'll think about these two events for some time to come. That act of kindness from a stranger could have saved me a blow-out, a huge pain in the ass and a huge withdrawal from my checking account, and for that I am in his or her debt. And, Justin's gesture reminded me of all the good times I had in ROTC and that even though I'm not a cadet anymore, we still see each other like brothers (I hope).

So here's where I go into PSA mode. Remember to help a stranger out this holiday season at every opportunity you can. You never know when it could save someone a heap of trouble and cash. And, when you're out getting gifts for loved ones, remember that it's sometimes the cheap gifts (yes, even ones you don't ACTUALLY give to someone) that mean the most. With that, I think it's my bed time.