2001-07-09 - 09:57 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

New Life

Seems to me that each step up the staircase we call life we enter a phase I call new life.

When I went from home to school, I entered a new life, with new things to do, learn, enjoy and be cautious of. My classmates hitherto unknown to me, who became friends as we went on through school were decidedly a blessing to this only child.

I went from grade to grade where it was the same teacher for each half grade. Hazy are my memories but I seem to recall that our grades progressed from 1 A to 1 B, 2 A to 2 B etc. It was the same teacher for each half year. It was almost like being at home in familiar surroundings with the known and respected figure of authority and the same site. Nearing the end of the half year would come speculation about and contemplation of things heard from older kids converstions about our next teacher. The route to school I could almost walk with my eyes closed, one long block, two short blocks and a half of a long block. In the doors and to my room. Each move to the next grade gave me a sense of progress and accomplishment as well as the joy of becoming acquainted with the new teacher and room. As I grew my mind dithered a bit about going to Junior High (7th through 9th grades then) wondering how it would be to learn a new way of spending my days in school. Then finishing sixth grade came the summer's freedom, reading books, playing and just plain having fun.

Then in September my route to school changed, one long block and half of a short one. Junior High brought many new things and orders of progression. Somewhat frightening, the idea of changing rooms and teachers every hour. The novelty of having a teacher who only taught one subject. Home room, what the heck was that ? Trying to find my way from class to class. Enjoying the building, which was the original South High School here in Denver, becoming Grant Junior High School when the new South was built. The interior seemed to be all wood except the walls and ceilings. A big ol' staircase with its grand wooden bannisters going up into the stratosphere it seemed.

Golly, there was so much new to me. One class was teaching us the business side of life, taking us through the ropes in making our methods match what really went on in the world, and how to do so. It was the first class that made me wonder, did I really want to grow up and handle all that jazz ? Sales tickets, elementary bookkeeping, the elements of using percentages and calculating interest. We had a kit, each of us, having all the forms, etc. for this class, what a crazy name the system was called, Zu Tavern something, something.

Printshop, a whole new ball game, printers ink from under the fingernails into the soul. Art class, Shop (then called industrial arts) wherein I learned ways to use my hands usefully and artistically. Forming metal or wood into something useful, using all sorts of tools was fascinating to me and the things made were usually artistically pleasing. Then in art class learning the ropes on how to draw, and compose pictures, our inspiration coming from our fine teacher.

It was in that school that I began to learn that those people in front of the class were not just, history teachers, math teachers etc. but people of many interests. I had an English teacher who was an accomplished artist and who helped me try to struggle through the rules of grammar etc. by helping me after school. When I showed interest in charcoal drawings in her room it was fascinating to me that an English teacher by gosh was the one who made those beautiful pieces of art. All through Junior High I was living a new life.

Then came High School, a whole new building to learn and a route much longer for me - from Grant Junior High grounds to the southeast corner of Washington Park entitled me to the Half Fare Tramway tokens to ride the street car to school. Right off learning to schedule myself to catch the car early enough to be on time to school. Wasn't easy to start with, but was eventually learned. ROTC taught me the elements of teamwork, the coordination needed for close order drill and the Manual of Arms. Memorization played a great part in ROTC as well. Taking care of a real live rifle, the mechanics of its structure and assembly, disassembly, reassembly to be done by the numbers and against the clock, polishing of brass and responsibility for the care of my whole uniform. Learning of the many responsibilities required of an adult person in preparation for eventually being one. It made me not warlike but taught me to do a bit of growing up and facing the fact that I might at some time need to defend our country. I enjoyed mightily the yearly ROTC Balls at school, squiring a neat, pretty young lady all dressed up in her finery and me wearing my spiffed up uniform. Where I learned how to pin a corsage on a girl, delicately, respectfully and harmlessly. 'Twasn't easy for this clumsy guy.

Seemed to me that so much of our learning was essentially teaching us how to examine, discern, think and talk about all facets of life. Regardless of the subject the need to use our minds was one of the primes.

A foreign language was surely a mind spreader. I chose German as I wished to become a MD and at that time that was the high tech shrine of medicine. I learned just how easy my language was compared to German and also why foreigners had such a hard time learning English. Our language is so freewheeling in comparison to others. Masculine, feminine, neuter for words ? Aw, come on, how the heck can one tell, none of 'em wear skirts or shirts and if they did, what the heck difference should it make ? And the order of words in a sentence, oh boy.

Public Speaking was a discipline that came easy to me. The only problem I had was when the teacher wanted me to read out loud a poem which seemed to me to be totally inane and read it with expression. Man, I failed that one miserably. But for the rest of it I enjoyed it and made a decent grade. In that class, by the necessity of reading aloud to the class, it was reinforced again how much the understanding of the written word is needed and how the tone and inflection of the voice often belies the meaning of words spoken.

By the time I quit high school I falsely thought I was ready for the next stage, yeah, right !

My next bit of new life was sobering. It taught me just how little I knew about things and how my need to learn was very great. I found a job, finally and learned that I was responsible for my clothes and shoes, also for banking ten percent of my wages, and paying rent to Mom and Dad. There was some left over for fun of course which was used with joy. At each level the path ahead of me was spotlighted on the things I needed to learn to go further.

As time passed the steps into new life were taken. Job promotion, finding a girl to love and cherish, marriage, having children, struggling to find work after being laid off and finally figuring out how to live on retirement wages, each thing into a new life.

The birth of each new Great Grand Child now is for me a New Life . . . . .

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