Good-bye to one of the most amazing men I knew

I'm not sure how to write this.  There are so many thoughts, memories and ideas that want to come out through the tears. So stream of consciousness it will be.

40 days ago, I got a call from my mother telling me that Mr. Kromer had been in a motorcycle accident.  Mr. Kromer had been not only the father of one of best friends, but also my English and Spanish teacher, my soccer coach, my supporter, and, in many ways, my mentor.  The injuries were severe and things weren't looking good.

I contacted his daughter, my friend Rosie, to let her know I was thinking of her and that if she needed anything at all, to let me know.  I was hoping that he'd pull through.  He was a strong man, after all.  A man that wouldn't give up easily.

Today, I got the news that he passed away in his sleep this afternoon.  Both his daughters were there and were able to tell the many members of our community who had been saying the same prayers that he had gone.  And I started to cry.

When I was in third grade, or around there, I remember spending a lot of days at the Kromer's house one summer.  It was more than just having time to play with Rosie and Isabel, though at the time I didn't realize it.  That summer, Mr. Kromer taught me a little Spanish.  He introduced me to The Chronicles of Narnia.  He helped show me that learning never stopped.  He was giving me, even though I didn't realize it for a long time, much needed encouragement to learn on my own when the school system wasn't doing it for me.

It was around that time he also started teaching my class Spanish.  It wasn't anything structured, and I think it may have been a trial to see if it would work in our school.  But off and on, until I hit middle school, I learned bits and pieces of Spanish, both in the classroom and in his home while visiting Rosie.

He was my English teacher in middle school, as well as my more formal Spanish teacher.  In English, he didn't throw the classics at us for reading.  He introduced us to other books that would really resonate at our age.  My favorite, which is still one of my favorites, was The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton.  And after reading the book, he let us watch the movie.  He did what he could to make our class one that we wanted to learn in rather than just one that we had to go to.

Also when I was in middle school, he coached my intramural soccer team.  I was a horrible player - not athletic in the least, not fast on the field, not quick enough or brave enough to throw my body after a ball in the goal.  But I played just about every game.  Because it wasn't about just putting in the best players.  Everyone got a chance to try, and everyone got a chance to contribute.  I still remember the "good job" and the grin he gave me after I managed to kick the ball with more force than I'd ever used before, propelling it all the way down the field to one of my teammates.  It was the first time, I think, I'd ever actually successfully kicked the ball in the game.  But I didn't feel like he was any more proud of me that day than on the days when I struggled to keep the other team from making a goal by being a defender.

When I was in 7th grade, Rosie was going to take 9th grade math the following year.  Mr. Kromer suggested I talk to the high school math teacher about getting into the class myself.  He told me that he knew I would be able to do the work.  Rosie went with me to talk to Ms. Connolly, then to talk to my junior high math teacher, so I could get into the class.  If it hadn't been for him, I never would have made that step.

At the end of 8th grade, Rosie left Downsville to go to a private school about 2 and a half hours away.  She'd been my best friend and, for all that I knew she'd get a better education there, I also knew I was going to miss her.  Mr. Kromer encouraged me to apply to the school.  He drove me there to see Rosie and to meet with the head of admissions, to take my tests and to do my best to get into the school.  And when I found out that I'd been accepted but couldn't get the amount of scholarship that I'd needed to attend, he told me how sorry he was that I couldn't go.  And he meant it, because he knew how badly I wanted to be at that school, learning more than I could have in Downsville and being able to hang out with Rosie more.

At the end of 9th grade, I moved to Florida to live with my Dad.  Mr. Kromer made sure to tell me how much he'd enjoyed teaching me, how much he hoped that I'd do well there.  He told me I'd be missed.  And he told me to keep in touch.

Since I've become an adult, I don't think I'd ever seen him again.  I didn't get to Downsville as much as I would have liked to, and when I did most of the time was spent with my mom and my sister.  And he didn't get to the areas of the country I was living in.  But I know he still thought about me, because my mom would tell me how she'd run into him in town and how he'd ask about me, always wondering how I was doing.  And when we friended each other on Facebook about 3 years ago, he would comment on my status updates, letting me know that he was still thinking about me.

Today, there is a part of me that wishes I'd made more of an effort to tell him while he still walked this earth what an important influence he was in my life.  But there's another part of me, the part that he did influence, that knows he knew and was grateful that he was a part of my life.

Rest in peace, Mr. Kromer.  You have been loved by many, and inspired more than I think even you realized.  Thank you for what you have given to me and to our small community.  You will be missed.

Worried about friends and family

Last week, I wrote about the rains in the area of my home town. A couple of the towns were badly flooded, complete evacuation. Well, this time it's hitting my home town of Downsville.  Yeah, we're used to flooding there.  In 2006, it was really bad - and this is looking to be the same, if not worse.

 

My mom, step-father, sister, brother-in-law and the kids should be pretty safe (though my sister hasn't been able to make it home from her job 45 minutes away).  They happen to live outside of town and on the mountain.  But I have a lot of family that live directly in town, as well as a lot of friends that I'd grown up with.  And they are the ones that I'm worried about.

 

At the moment, there's only one way into and out of town.  And if that floods, anyone left in town is screwed.  It's going to be nearly impossible to get out after that.

 

So those of you that pray. Those that send karma. Those that send well wishes. Please, do so.  Because I worry about my family and friends.  They've dealt with enough.  They really don't need more piled on top of them.

The big cities aren't the only ones getting hit

There hasn't been a lot of info on this on the news.  Little bits and pieces on a few local news stations, about a minute on the Weather channel (from what I've been told - I don't have cable).  But there are towns in Delaware County, NY that have been devastated by Hurricane Irene.  I don't care what her strength was when she hit.  The devastation that she left is just unbelievable.

In Fleishmanns, there is very little left.  The town needed to be evacuated.  Water continues to rise higher.  The national guard sent in a helicopter to rescue people stranded on their roofs.

In Margaretville, the streets have become a river (see the video below).  Andrew Cuomo, the governor of New York, traveled to Margaretville to survey the damage.




And in Downsville, NY, they are preparing for the Reservoir to flood.  Between the Pepacton Reservoir and the East Branch of the Delaware River, they're expecting flooding to go a fair amount into town. (If you take a look at the map below, you should be able to see where the flooding is expected to get to.)


View Larger Map

I haven't heard of any lives lost, but I can't get a lot of reliable information.  Even my mother, who lives in Downsville, has only heard a little here and a little there from family members that have called her.  I'm not too worried about her and my step-father or my sister and her family, because they live up in the mountain.  It would be a flood of epic proportions to endanger them and their property.  But I have family and friends that live in Downsville proper.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandmother, people I went to school with there.  And I don't want them to have to go through this again. (They've been hit with several floods over the last several years.)

I know that this small area of New York isn't the only one getting hit.  Believe me, I know.  I've got family and friends throughout the Northeast.  But Downsville will always be my hometown.  It's where I lived from 2 until 15.  It's where I learned life's lessons.  By extension, Margaretville, Fleishmanns, Deposit and Arkville are places also close to my heart.  And I worry about those that have been displaced, as well as those who may still be displaced.

When your prayers/good thoughts/whatever start winging their way to your chosen destination, please add an extra one for those in Delaware County.  You may never have heard of these towns before this blog post, but they are in need of your prayers.

F is for... Feather, A to Z Challenge

Today's post was at the request of Teddy.  I've had a very busy day and none of the f words that were coming to mind were things that I could write about in polite company (or if I did, you'd probably consider me The Worst Mom in the World^TM.)  So I asked my family for suggestions.  Teddy was the first to reply with "Feather".  Because after all, "Feather begins with F, Mommy."  So... Feather.

I grew up in the country.  I've mentioned before in this blog about the smallness of the town and the school.  I lived 5 miles from town.  My family owned hundreds of acres of land.  My grandparents lived across the road and down in the valley from us.  There was a lot of forest in the areas between us, but the bottom of the valley was cleared with plenty of land for kids to play.  And my cousins and I did a lot of that over the summers.

Because of how close in distance we were, we would walk down to Grandma and Grandpa's more often than we would drive, particularly in the summer.  We would walk beside the main road to the turn off for my grandparent's driveway and then down the driveway.  It was a single lane rut driveway under the cover of trees.  It was one of the most quiet and peaceful places that I've ever been.

Sometimes, when we were walking, I'd come across a goose feather.  I picked them up whenever I came across one.  I loved the way that the barbs could move forward and back, how delicate the shaft was.  I was fascinated with the change of color along the feather.  I remember thinking that if I got enough of them, maybe I could fly.  Or, when I got a little older, wondering if I could fashion a real quill pen from it.  I never did try, though.

I have a lot of memories from those days.  But finding the feathers were unexpected surprises that always filled me with delight.

Note: If you'd like to see a picture of my grandparents' driveway, take a look at my uncle's photo gallery.  I can't link directly (and I don't want to use his picture without his permission), so the picture is under the color gallery, pictures 22 and 23.