I know where it came from

My week has been bursting with gifts.

My knowledge bowl is running over.

Tuesday

“It was magic realism, with an All-American twist.”

Enlightened Susan to 35 of us gallery-arraigned on a Zoom link.

Our book club was reading Leif Enger’s Peace Like a River.

Wednesday

“Draw the lines you see in this painting.”

Coached Bob at 20 of us sitting at desks in the darkened room.

The Life Long Learning class was American Scene Painting: From Ashcan School to Abstract Expressionism.

Thursday

“Neither Luther nor Bach was a good student. That’s why they became great teachers.”

Edified Jim for 15 of us sitting comfortably in cushioned chairs.

The Emeritus lecture was The Luther–Bach Nexus.

Early Friday morning

In a dream, I’m preparing to defend my Ph.D. dissertation.

It is my second Ph.D.

I ask myself, do I need a second Ph.D.?

A heap of papers lies before me.

On the first sheet, words were crossed out in red.

I flip to the second page and scratch out and replace words.

And wake-up.

*

This week I learned

Magic realism includes a miracle element in an earthy story.

Painters don’t look at lines. They focus on the mass inside the lines.

Theologian Luther wanted to be a musician. Musician Bach yearned to be a theologian.

But choo choo ing down the track after these experiences came that second Ph.D. dream.

What was I teaching myself?

Dreams sometimes begin an internal conversation.

Until I went to graduate school at 27, I had never been a serious student.

When I became a teacher at 22, I thought it was only because I needed a 5th year of college to stay out of the Vietnam war draft. I used the extra year to get a teaching degree.

Then, I thought I was making it up as I went along.

Now, I think I was born to want to know.

It was a gift from my parents.

My mother’s parents–her mom graduated from high school and her father from the 8th grade–put their four children (Florence, June, Dorothy, and Albert) through college in the late 1930s and early 1940s.

My father was the only one of four siblings and parents to graduate from college.

I believe there is often a first cause, a simple answer to why.

My comfort, no, my need to extend my arms for knowledge, is my parents’ greatest gift to me.

A gift that keeps giving.