I am still feeling my morality.  Actually, I always feel it, deeply feel it, consciously feel it, want to feel it, each day, since that fateful September 14, 2007 day when for no apparent reason I got hit with a massive cerebral hemorrhage that for unknown reasons didn't take me out of life's game and left me, as the neurosurgeon said with glassy eyes, as an unscathed "5% walking miracle."  Sometimes the emotion of that memory is rawer than at other times, but it is always a vivid emotion.  I have to admit that Phil Gunter's sudden death gave me shuddering flashbacks even though for me it was more of a professional loss than a personal one.  He was a damn good, caring, compassionate respectful Provost.  I wasn't on the College of Education's faculty when he was Dean; I didn't work directly or closely with him on any University matters when he was Provost and VP of Academic Affairs; we never had any philosophical conversations; and we never socialized off campus.  But, we were not anonymous to each other.  He always read my stuff, commented on occasion in response to something I shared on the Web, and we always greeted each other on a first name basis when our paths crossed.  We knew each other somewhere between high level administrator and boots-on-the-ground classroom grunt, somewhere between acquaintance and colleague, somewhere between acquaintance and friend.  But, far more important, most important, I never felt he was anyone other than a damn good, caring, compassionate, respectful, decent human being.  I never saw him plod along; he always had a bounce in his quick step; I never saw him without a smile on his face; he always had a twinkle in his eye.  Sometimes they were slight when he was carrying weighty matters, but they were there.  I remember one passing, quick conversation we had towards the end of last semester that may be meaningless to most, but it isn't to me.  Passing though the conversation may have been, it will last with me.  I was walking along to class, Phil was approaching me.  He saw me.  We waved a "hi" to each other.  Out of the blue, as he got near, he said in an admiringly tone, "Louis, I never see you without a smile."



	"Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe" I chuckled.



	"What's that mean?"



	"It's a play on Decartes.  It's Latin, probably lousy Latin, it's supposed to mean, 'I think, therefore I will always be grateful.'" I replied in a serious fun way, "I've got everything to smile about.  By all rights I shouldn't be here.  But, here I am: vertical, moving, and I'm on the right side of the dirt doing what I love and love what I am doing.  What else matters?  Those lip muscles are the most powerful in my body.  They keep me high on living a life of possibilites.  So, they  don't let anything, especially the unimportant stuff, which is most stuff, get me down."



	"That's very good," he replied with an affirming smile, "That's how it should be.  Puts everything in a proper perspective.  What did you call it?"  



	"Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe," I laughed and referring to our professor of Classic Languages, "but don't ask Vicki to check my usage and grammar.  I barely passed Latin in high school  And, I mean barely! I mean they literally threw a party when I passed the Regents Exam!"   And, we waved a goodbye to each other.  



	Anyway, now we've eulogized.  We've memorialized.  But, have we sacred-tized.  Have we realized, truly realized the gift given to us?   Or, did we rationalize away the gift of his life suddenly and unexpectedly taken away without apparent rhyme or reason, the gift of those words he spoke to me?  It....is....a....gift, you know.  Have we learned to unwrap and use, truly unwrap and use, that present?  Will we live, truly live, the lesson?  Will we open the gift of life and sacred-tize it?  Sadly, my experience is that almost all of us won't.  We will talk of Phil's untimely death at the young age of 60 as "a tragic waste" without understanding that the real waste, the true tragedy, the ultimate sin, is a squandering and devaluing of our precious "now."   With good intentions, feeling a need of saying something sympathetic, we will lapse into the cliche, pithy, and even the trite.  We will talk of Phil's love of life without understanding that "to love" and "to live" is more than the difference of one letter.  We will talk, shed a tear, lay a flower, light a candle, and then go about our business-as-usual in a Little Jack Horner manner thinking that to pay our respects is enough.  It's not.   No, if we really want to eulogize and memorialize and sacred-tize Phil's life, as Rumi said, we will let us be pulled by love, and we will live and love as one. 



	"Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!" For me, having been taken to the brink and having peered over the edge into the dark abyss of death, living each day as if it's my last is not a cute adage.  Life is my work.  Here and now is my favorite time, for everything is here and now.  A day doesn't pass that I don't hear an inner voice asking, "Have you loved today?"  "Have you lived today?" "Have you made a difference today?"  "Have you made a place for the best things in life to live within you?" "Did you live today as if it was your last?"  Thank goodness I don't hear "Why haven't you retired?"  If I ever hear that question, I'd answer, "I've overcome my weaknesses and built upon my strengths; I am happy, present, being significant, and at peace.  I'm not living on the "slowing down" downside of life's arc heading into dodderingtude and senilitude.  At 71 and after 45 years in the classroom, I'm still on top of my game; I still hop out of bed with an "I'm just getting started," get going, and live attitude each day; each day I still want to rock the classroom. 



	Some of my colleagues think I'm "fluffy."  Some tell me to get over that "near death" experience.  I don't want to get over it; I want it to stay under my skin.  I don't want to be a footnote to circumstances.  I want to be fully alert, intensely aware, acutely sensitive to myself as well as to things and people around me.  I want to have it before my eyes every day to hammer home the realization of how fortunate I am, how grateful I must be, how I must welcome each day with a genuine enthusiasm, how I am not to be defined or limited by circumstances, and how I must use each day in a meaningful day.  



	"Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!"  I don't need any encouragement to realize that life isn't in some "if only" far off, dreamy, imagined land where all the pressure would be off, where everything would be perfect.  From surviving that cerebral hemorrhage, as well from surviving cancer a few years earlier,  I learned that "today," "now," is my only reality, that my achievement and happiness is in me, today, now; and that a vision quest is a trek of one "now" at a time.  Now, "now" is not really perfect;  yet, "later" will not be the ideal city on the hill.  But, "now" is the perfect time to begin; and, it is the perfect time to continue.  



	All this has gotten me to think of Kenny and how he always used to ask me for a word about teaching.  I haven't heard from him in a long while.  But, he comes and goes in my mind.  So, I've thought of another word for MY DICTIONARY OF GOOD TEACHING that I will send him:  "WHEN."  It's a so often a declaration.  It so often means "later," tomorrow," "someday," certainly not "now."  Then, as in most cases, that "when" usually gets a new meaning:  "never."  It's a procrastinating "I'll face it later" that lies in either a weakened self-perception ruled by  pessimistic "can't," and/or fearful "won't," and/or uncomitted and undedicated "don't."  So, why would I come up with a seemingly deferring and deterring word like "when" for inclusion in my dictionary?  I want to make it question, whose query must not be just answered in a passing and self-serving way, but reflected upon and answered with authenticity and honestly, maybe even with discomfort and pain.  I include it because I want to change it's meaning to a "you never know" word, from "later" to "now," from "tomorrow" to "today."  It's because I'm put off by putting off as if so many of us are a Scarlet O'Hara proclaiming, "Tomorrow is another day."   



	If I get a hold of Kenny again, I'll tell him, as I just told Barbara, "someday" must always "this day," here and now.  "When" is a word to be used with questioning temerity, not with answering timidity.  We so often passively wait and wait and wait for proverbial opportunity to knock on our door.  We so often put things off  and push them into our way off tomorrows.  Those tomorrows for so many people are escapes from today, denials of today, resentments of today, maybe even fears of today.  For me, having learned the lesson offered by my cerebral hemorrahage and now by the sudden death of VSU's Provost, here and now is all any of us have.  When is today!   "Now," "today," is when everything is happening.  When is in the here and now dreams and desires and visions that are real.  When is in the here and now that all possibilities exist.  When is in here and now that I am focused, purposeful, and inspired.  There's nothing theoretical and intellectual about it.  There's everything real about it.  When is here and now I choose, not yesterday and not tomorrow, but here and now.  When is in here and now that I act.   When is in the here and now that all opportunities open up.  I've learned that whatever I'm seeking is not out there somewhere, it's here; it's now.  So, I always stop, step back, quiet down, look around and allow myself my "when is here and now."  



	Achievement is not a matter of putting off today's moments.  Happiness is not a matter of being in tomorrow.  To the contrary, achievement and happiness, significance and fulfillment are a matter of living in today's moments and using them to their fullest and making things happen.    That's when fulfillment and meaningfulness are claimed.  The way today goes begins, continues, and ends with me, with my "now!"  My "when" makes or breaks my here and now.  My attitude towards my "now" determines whether it's merely a rehearsal for what usually will never be or it's a "this is it."  I don't discount my when; I make it count.  By welcoming and utilizing my when, my here and now, here and now is  when I move.  If I feared my here and now, I'd be paralyzed to the point I would be with no real tomorrows.  This very moment, this special moment, this magical moment, this great moment, this unique moment, this powerful moment, this beautiful moment, this meaningful moment, this real moment is my "when," my only time to be real, my only time to live, my only time to live, to dream, to make magic, to take that step, and to step up.  



	Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!

  

Make it a good day



-Louis-





Louis Schmier                         		http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org       

Department of History                        http://www.therandomthoughts.com

Valdosta State University 

Valdosta, Georgia 31698                     /\   /\  /\                 /\     /\

(O)  229-333-5947                            /^\\/  \/   \   /\/\__   /   \  /   \

(C)  229-630-0821                           /     \/   \_ \/ /   \/ /\/  /  \    /\  \

                                                    //\/\/ /\    \__/__/_/\_\/    \_/__\  \

                                              /\"If you want to climb mountains,\ /\

                                          _ /  \    don't practice on mole hills" - /   \_