A Worthwhile Life: 2

I was at my step-daughter’s choir concert the other night, and I saw a familiar face in the crowd. My first impulse was to go up to him, but I stopped myself because what if it wasn’t really him? I didn’t want to bother a random stranger and feel the discomfort of misrecognizing someone and having to slink away like a weirdo.

But right as we were opening the door I thought how silly I was being. What was the worst that he could say, “No, that’s not my name”? So I told Brett to wait a sec, I ran back through the crowd, found the man, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Is your name Clem?”
”Yes, it is...”
”Did you happen to work at Riverside Elementary School?”
”Wow, that was a long time ago! Yes!”
”Well, I went there, and I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated you and how highly we all thought of you.”

We then proceeded to chat for a few minutes as he explained to me - in the most humble of ways - that he’s had some version of this conversation multiple times over the years. He introduced himself to Brett, who had wandered over to us unbeknownst to me; he introduced us to his wife; he remembered me and my friends and even mentioned how he knew one of them was a doctor now. I was floored.

As we walked back towards the exit Brett asked who exactly Clem was, assuming he was an old teacher or something since he knew all my friends. He was my elementary school custodian.

Driving us home, my brain was working overdrive trying to process the juxtaposition of the tragedies happening in the world, and the absolute beauty of the moment I had just experienced. I started crying. My crying turned to sobs and Brett looked over, startled, and asked what was happening. I told him I didn’t know.

I walked straight into our house and grabbed my journal to process. What was happening?! Why did that one small conversation set me off?

Brett and I have been having a lot of conversations lately about values, and beliefs, and politics, and all the things that make us who we are and act the way we do. And it has been hard. I continue to believe that the foundation of my very core is love. Everything I say and do, I hope I’m doing in love, and that I’m always treating people with love.

When I saw Clem’s face across the crowded foyer, I was flooded with feelings of kindness and love. His very face is kindness to me. I’d never be able to remember a single thing Clem ever said to me or any conversation we would have ever had, but I will never forget how he made me feel; even as I saw him that night, thirty-some years later, I felt that same feeling. A feeling echoed by my fellow Riverside friends I immediately texted who responded with multiple iterations of, “What a good dude!” and “Did you tell him the Sneaky Bees* still love him?”

Over and over again I feel like so many of the problems our country is facing are because of our inability to comprehend how someone else could possibly think differently than us - we lack the ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and truly try to understand them; we constantly “other” them. I feel as though everyday a new private school is opening up, and our public schools are atrophying. I recently read a statistic that the racial demographics of Wichita are 65-70% white, and 25-30% all other races, yet Wichita public schools is literally the exact opposite: 26% white and 74% all other minorities. Everyone has become so terrified of “the other”, and done such a good job creating their own little homogenous bubbles, that no one can function in the reality of our diverse societies.

One of the best decisions my parents ever made, and that I will be forever grateful for, is putting me in magnet schools. I met people outside my neighborhood, my race, my social class, my religion. To me, high school isn’t about learning math and science facts, and how to read and write. High school is about learning how to be a functioning member of the community, so if school has become a place full of people who all look and act the same, then how on earth are we learning to function in our community that is so much more diverse?

I’ve come to realize I was so emotional about Clem because he symbolized all the things I value and hold most dear in life: love, kindness, empathy, diversity, public education. And those also happen to be the very things I feel are being shit on constantly, lately.

So here I sit. Quiet and reflective in my living room. Enraged and helpless as I see so much misunderstanding, division, hypocrisy, and straight up lying all around me. But also so hopeful as the universe and God keep showing glimpses of the light and beauty that are still out there. These are the moments that drive our fear and remind me of my purpose: keep being soft; keep being loving; be someone else’s glimpse of light and beauty; be someone else’s Clem.

*Sneaky Bees is the name of my group of girlfriends from kindergarten - a name derived from a lovely poem written by one of the Bees for our Riverside Writers book. (Another testament to the greatness of my public schooling.)