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.

Contemplating Companions - Thoughts on Amy and Rory

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it in this blog before or not, but I'm a huge Doctor Who fan.  It's all my husband's fault, of course.  The very first episode I watched, I hated and didn't want to give another chance. It was a 6th Doctor/Peri episode and there was a lot of screaming.  I didn't want to watch a show with a lot of screaming.  It would drive me mad.  But then Rich asked me to give his favorite show another try and introduced me to "The Talons of Weng Chiang".  The strength of Leela made me give it another try.  And I was hooked.

For the longest time, if I had to choose a favorite Doctor/Companion pair, it would be 7th Doctor/Ace.  The mentor/mentee relationship they had, the fact that Ace didn't need the Doctor to save her, Ace's insecurities... they all spoke to me.  I was still young enough that I could want to be Ace and not feel that I was wishing my life away.

And then the reboot came in 2005.  I was so excited to have new stories to discover.  There would be new Doctors, new companions, a whole new world to explore.  I glued myself to the television whenever a new episode would come on, ready to see where the Doctor and his companion would arrive next.

In the 7 years since the reboot started, we've had 6 companions and a bunch of near companions (like River, Captain Jack and Wilf).  And none of them pulled me away from Ace.  Until the Ponds.

The beginning of season 5 was a difficult one for me.  David Tennant's 10th Doctor had surpassed and supplanted Sylvester McCoy's 7th Doctor in my heart as favorite Doctor and the tears I'd cried were still fresh within me - even after all those months.  I was going to need to get used to a new Doctor, with a new companion. The new companion didn't bother me so much.  I'd seen Rose come and go (and how I'd wished she'd stayed gone), Martha appear and leave a season later.  Donna showed up briefly at Christmas, never to return... until she traveled with the Doctor for a year and left against her will.  Companions came and went.  It's what they did.

After the first episode, I still wasn't sure how I felt about Matt Smith.  He was so different from Tennant, and that was good.  I knew I'd need to get used to him.  But Amy Pond, the girl who waited... Amy, I loved.  She had spunk, she had heart.  She was a redhead.  There was something about her that drew me in from the moment she pulled off her hat, gave an eye-roll and declared, "I'm a kiss-o-gram."  This was a companion I could love.

And then things got better.  Amy had run from her wedding to travel with the Doctor, but he knew how important her husband-to-be was.  And in a move we've never seen from any Doctor, he brought Rory, the nurse and Amy's boyfriend from "The Eleventh Hour", into the TARDIS.  He became a stabilizer for her. A touchstone.  There was a vulnerability in him, an insecurity when it came to the relationship between Amy and the Doctor, that was touching.  Because even if his worse fears came true, it wouldn't matter.  He belonged to Amy and with Amy he would stay.  After all, he guarded her for 2,000 years.

Over the next two and a half years, I watched their love deepen.  Amy was no longer running away because she had what she needed in the two most important men in her life.  Rory was no longer in doubt, because Amy had proved time and again that for all that she loved traveling with the Doctor, Rory was the one that she loved.  She mellowed a little.  He grew a lot.  They both had the backbone to stand up to the Doctor when the situation called for it. They were exactly what the Doctor needed, in ways that neither of them could be if they traveled with him alone.

When I heard that the Ponds were leaving, my heart broke.  How could they?  I mean, I knew that it was vital to Doctor Who for them to leave now, but how could they?  Ace was now a memory to me.  Amy and Rory were the companions that I wanted to be.  They were the ones I could watch over and over again because they held every quality that a companion should have.  Like a petulant child, I didn't want new companions.  I wanted Amy and Rory.

But like the adult that I am, I knew they needed to go.  I had two hopes with their leaving: 1) that they would get the good-bye they deserved, and 2) that maybe, just maybe, we'd see them again some time.  I put my trust in Moffat, as I had from the moment his first episode for the new series, "The Empty Child" (though I knew him from the wonderful parody, The Curse of Fatal Death).  But there was still the part of me that worried.  I couldn't help it.  They were too important to me.  So I kept hoping for one more story before they had to go, knowing that the end was near.

Then I heard that there was going to be a death, a real, honest to goodness death, in the episode.  And my thoughts ran in circles.  Not Rory.  That was the primary one.  We knew it couldn't be River.  She died in the first episode we saw her in.  I couldn't see Moffat killing Amy.  She was too central.  We knew the Doctor wasn't regenerating so it couldn't be him.  Which left Rory.  But I didn't want Rory to die again.  He had died far too many times already.  I didn't want death death for him.  Not Rory.

Last night was the premier of "The Angels Take Manhattan", the Ponds' final episode.  I didn't watch it when it first came on - we were doing a family movie night with the boys and, honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted them to see it because I didn't know what to expect.  So after we'd finished watching The Avengers with both boys falling asleep half way through, I went upstairs and waited for Rich to join me.  And then, he did.

I don't want to write a review of the episode right now. As River would say, "Spoilers."  But I can tell you that Rich got sick of my "Not Rory. Please not Rory," mutterings as I watched the show.  And I sobbed when Rory stood on the ledge.  And my heart remained in my throat for the whole hour.  And, for the last 10 minutes, I sobbed without stopping.  Actually, for another 10 minutes after the show was over, I continued to sob uncontrollably.  It wasn't the ending I wanted, but it was a good ending.

This morning, I've put some distance between myself and the emotions the episode caused.  Last night, I didn't think I'd ever be able to watch the episode again.  But now, even knowing what I know and knowing that the tears will come again, I think I do want to watch it.  Because yes, Rory and Amy are gone from the TARDIS.  Yes, they are gone in ways that I would never have expected and the chances of seeing them again are pretty slim.  But Moffat did do what I knew he would - he gave them a good ending.  We know, unlike so many other companions from both the classic and the new series, that they had a happy ending, a good life after they left the Doctor.  And what more could I ask for?