what a show!

 

Seussical, and the CFS Village

the Middle School pulled off a magnificent show today,

Seussical the Musical,

once again a community was created,

built on individuals being unique

and true to what amazing work 

each could release from their efforts,

so that the sum of the parts

is of multiplication more than of simple addition,

so that simultaneously the self shines bright,

both as a part and as a whole,

something lived onstage today,

and will live, and thrive, a few more times,

we should celebrate the village

that pulled it all together,

and we should celebrate every individual person

who gave their all,

so that each shared performance created a life,

like all lives,

that flared bright, 

and then will pass away.

by Henry H. Walker

February 18, ‘26

a remembrance ceremony

 

A Celebration Of Life

a person dies,

we can feel empty,

a connection severed,

so that we can no longer

dance to the warmth and knowing 

of each others' eyes,

no longer share a laugh,

the companionship of travelers

who huddle together and share moments,

for however brief a time the universe allows,

when the charge no longer is enough

to power the enduring,

a circuit breaks,

and the reel with us together

plays out and ends,

what do we do then?

besides rage at loss

and the death of the light?

often we are held in the faith of religion

and console ourselves with belief in the persistence, somehow,

of the unique self we love so much,

and imagine it much the same, just removed from us,

I am more drawn to meeting death

with a celebration of life, well-lived,

we may be challenged by any look forward,

for the one we loved can no longer be here with us,

so, instead, we should look back

and celebrate who they were

while they had the calling, the energy,

to work wonders with their life,

when we celebrate who they were, what they did,

we look deep into their eyes

and see them for the glory

they were able to release unto others

with the fullness of who they were,

a death is a loss, but it can also be a celebration

of the gains each day of their life

created, built, connected,

our relationships then stay true to who they were

and to who they helped us to become.

by Henry H. Walker

February 16, ‘26

our love for him

 

Robert Bittle

Robert Bittle

I knew an extraordinary person and teacher,

one who was born for the classroom,

who saw every student as an individual and of enormous worth,

he was gifted with both seeing them

and finding accessible paths they might wish to follow,

he helped countless students believe in themselves

and helped many of his colleagues rescue themselves

to help those students move forward,

his love for wife, kids, and grandkids,

completed him,

Robert had many gifts:

a wicked sense of humor,

who else would be born on April 1?

his clever mind could take the most mundane

and twist it to reveal the hilarity within,

though he could also be outrageous enough

to get a book thrown at him by the clerk of a meeting,

nothing ever got by Robert:

when we were as fools,

he didn't suffer that foolishness gladly,

when challenged by the gifts and needs of our nine year old son,

he improvised and found how to both support 

and to challenge Aaron in math,

Robert and I both taught American history in middle school,

and I was both excited and challenged

by his innovative ideas to create games

that were like the proverbial "spoonful of sugar"

to help get the student involved 

with people, place, events, themselves,

to explore the consequences of decisions

so that the past and present speak clearly to us

of how we might find the future we want,

social studies the discipline he most believed in,

just as how he was with challenging students,

so did we who worked with him

need to work to get to know him, to appreciate him,

Robert and authority never were friends, 

his sense of rightness bristled at authority,

Robert challenged Carolina Friends School as a student,

and I am glad we were enough like Robert to see the gem below his crust,

music has long been how the universe and he soared together,

for the guitar and music friends allowed him to transcend

into word and melody brilliance,

letting his creative soul blossom and shout,

as health challenges worked to hold him back

from much of who he is,

the guitar too much for him,

and then the dobro, too,

he left the school and thus much of who he is,

I wish we as a school had been able to let him know

that as an educator Robert is of the best

that any school can hope for:

Robert saw the students, loved the students,

and made the world a better place

because of who he was and what he did,

 the cruelty of the disease that beset him

should not distract us

from who he has been at his best,

his grandchildren know they are of the center,

from his love of them

just as he is of the center,

from our love for him.

by Henry H. Walker

February 17, ‘26

why to visit America's Southwest

 Truth From the Four Corners

the Southwest is calling!

21 years have passed since our last Spring trip

to the Four Corners in March,

there is a clarity to the Southwest,

water is the Great Blurrer,

as back East feet of rain in a year

erodes what is before us,

and energizes plants to round the clean lines

that rock and wind can make,

here only inches of rain come a year,

here geology slaps you in the eye:

mesas of russet dusky red sandstone hold high

and are encircled by talus at their bases, 

synclines, anticlines,

memories of volcanoes in rocks beneath the feet,

below uranium and coal wait to be used,

rivers carve deep and true,

until there are canyons, one Grand,

and the Goosenecks

where a river has created a serpentine wonder of gorges,

whole national parks hold the Fantastic

in rock sculpted over eons,

blessed with the memories of the wonder of water's passage,

and where there is enough water, it empowers cottonwoods and agriculture,

another clarity the Southwest shouts is of the touch of the Indigenous peoples,

who found home here and left their buildings and artifacts

to give us clues, insights into their commonality with us,

and into their profound expression of the truth of the world

that their buildings asserted in their every line,

the truth of what the dance 

of Sun, and Moon, and Earth, over the year

reveals to us of the grand design above, below, and before,

it is of what our days should mean,

we live now in troubled times

within which fear of our dark sides,

of our own mortality,

can make us feel alone and lost,

how wonderful it can be to be in the Southwest

where we can grasp and hold the awe that is Earth's gift to us,

from the wonders of the natural world,

and from the wonders of Indigenous peoples in the past,

and their descendants still here,

all who deserve to have their gifts known.

by Henry H. Walker

February 5, ‘26