A Salute to Coach Z

Special people...

...we all have them in our lives.

Those special people who, especially when we're young, influence us in ways that can't be counted. Those special people who inspire us...guide us...believe in us...and perhaps change the course of our lives.

I was fortunate to have several people in my life that I looked up to, and wanted to emulate as I got older.

One of those special people was "Coach Z".

Coach Z was our high school boys' team basketball coach...but that didn't mean anything to me. I didn't play basketball, nor was I a boy.

However...Coach Z was also our high school Psychology teacher...and it was within that setting that I most remember him.

I took Psychology I as a sophomore, and from the minute I walked into Coach Z's classroom, I knew he was different than the average high school teacher. He was memorable from the minute when he actually greeted me as I walked into the classroom - something that most other teachers didn't bother with. That initial greeting. He made me feel...welcome.

He then proceeded to teach...but his teaching style was very different from the average high school teacher, as well. He wouldn't sit behind his desk - ever. Oh, no. Coach Z would always come around and perch on his desk, using the surface as his seat - getting just that much closer to the students in the classroom. He made us feel...like we mattered.

After he'd get settled on his desk, he would begin to talk...and that's when the magic really happened. Coach Z had a way of telling a story like no other...he brought you into the story - made you a part of it - and he had us hanging on every word. He made us feel...like we were equals.

He brought Psychology to life that semester...and if you've ever had anything to do with Psychology, you know it can be dry as bones, for the most part. But not with Coach Z. He'd take the concept of Psychology and then weave a story of how that concept applied in "real life" - and I. was. hooked. Period. With a capital "P".

Psychology II was offered second semester - but a small problem existed. I was "only" a sophomore - and normally, Psych II was offered only to juniors or higher. I pleaded my case with Coach Z, who went to bat for me with our administration - and I was in. Boy, oh boy - the only sophomore in a class of upperclassmen? I felt AWESOME!

But I wasn't there to gloat in my specialness...I was there to learn more about Psychology...and hear more of Coach Z's stories. If there'd been a Psych 3 or 4...or 15...I would have been there. Coach Z believed in me...he'd talk with me after class, asking me what I was going to do when I got out of high school.

Years later, I went on to college - and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to teach. And I wanted to teach Psychology. Just like Coach Z. So - my degree ended up being Secondary Education with emphasis in Psych and Sociology. My life-long love affair with teaching - and psychology - began in that 10th grade classroom. With Coach Z.

I've ended up not teaching Psychology, per se...but I do teach. I've taught classes at the hospital where I worked for many years, and I currently do a lot of teaching with the American Red Cross. And my teaching style is very, very similar to Coach Z. I'll perch. On the desk. And I tell stories. I don't know if I'm quite at the caliber of story-telling of Coach Z, but I'd like to think I'm doing him justice. Even if my stories aren't as good as his, I do one thing that he taught me. I respect my students. I treat them as human beings worthy of respect and my time. Cuz' that's what he did.

I never saw Coach Z after I graduated..so it's been over 30 years. While reading this morning's paper, I came across his obituary...Coach Z passed away last week. He and his wonderful stories are now gone.

I read that after he left teaching, he drove a tour bus for awhile - in the Branson, Missouri area - and I can just picture him, sharing his stories with his passengers. Of course, I would hope he wasn't perching on the steering wheel while talking, but with Coach Z, you would just never know what to expect.

Here's to you, Coach Z.

Peace.

An Apple A Day? This Could Get Expensive!

Hello.

My name is Sherri and I am a gadget-aholic.

I'm not really sure where my addiction to all-things-new-and-shiny-and-techy started...but I know I have suffered from this affliction for as long as I can remember, and I also know it drives my Hubby nuts.

NUTS, I'm tellin' ya'.

In all fairness, I should lay the blame totally at the feet of the late Steve Jobs and his Apple products, which I swear have some sort of intoxicating, addicting chemicals laced through them...so, it's not my fault. Well....that's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking to it.

This past week, due to forces beyond my control, my Mac laptop was somewhat...incapacitated. (Okay - I was dumb and left it plugged in during a tremendous lightning storm. My bad. I guess it WAS in my control...but I digress.)

While hyperventilating in a state of apoplectic shock, I quickly took Mac into the local Mac emergency room...i.e., the nearest Apple store. There, the wonderful Apple doctors quickly fixed me up and sent me on my way - at no charge, no less! Those guys are really awesome there, which is why I am hooked on all-things-Apple.

Anyway.

Now, the story would have ended here on a happy note if I wasn't suffering from severe Apple-hoarding syndrome...which is a symptom of my deeper affliction, Gadgetaholism.

Seriously...don't send me into a candy store and expect me to not buy any candy.

Just the SMELLS inside the Apple store do me in.

So, several hundred dollars later, I walked out of the Apple store with an upgraded iPhone...darn it.

Because, you know, my old iPhone was ancient at three years and four versions ago. It was soooooo yesterday.

Now I have Siri. And it's white.

And it's shiny. And it's new.

Instant love.

Sigh. I don't think this is what they meant when they say, "An Apple a day keeps the doctor away...."

I need help.

Running for a Cause

Whew, I'm exhausted.

Today was my first BIG race of the season...the 1st Annual Martin City .1K, which benefited the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

And yes...you read that right...it was a .1K - or a staggering 323 feet of major obstacles, such as uneven asphalt, traffic cones, parking stripes, restroom lines and beer lines.

It was grueling.

All 323 feet.

No, really. Grueling...before it even started...as it called for - gasp - costumes!!!

Hubby and I put a lot of time and effort in our costumes (snort) and this is what we came up with:

I'm an "Olympic Torch Bearer" and Hubby is "A Running Parrothead".

Hey. It worked. It was cheap, easy and comfortable.

So, we get to the event, and I decided to "scout" the course a head of time to check for hazards, roadblocks and obstructions...

The first few feet of the course was uphill, so yes..."slow" would be only natural here - but I'm glad they forewarned us.

I then came across the following:

"Stop Sag"??? What does that mean? I'm all for stopping sag, especially if it's MY body parts we're talking about - but I guess I'm a little confused on this one. Were we to stop for sags crossing the road? Or stop for a sag? Oh well. Moving on.

Midway through the run, there was a donut stop - for refueling in this marathon:

About 3/4 of the way through, the organizers knew our energy would be waning and our spirits sagging (SAGGING! There's that word again!!)...and in preparation, they gave us a boost of encouragement:

After I checked out the course, I thought I would check out my competition. Medals were to be awarded, and I wanted a leg up on what I was dealing with. Speaking of legs, check out this team:

That was the Stiletto Heels Division 1st Place Relay Team...which actually came in dead-last for the race, no thanks to the guy in heels.

We then had this ringer - a true "walker" in every sense of the word:

I figured I could take her.

Soon, it was time to start....we began with a soulful rendering of the national anthem:

And then - the participants lined up, and we're OFF!

Um, yeah...my friend Jackie and her little friend were BLAZING out of the gate, but because they didn't pace themselves, I think they quickly burnt themselves out...pacing, folks. It's all about pacing.

Now...Hubby and I paced ourselves very nicely around the course...Hubby paced himself right over to the donut table and indulged. I was too busy fighting the wind and trying to keep my torch lit to distract myself with empty carbs.

We finished a nice, respectable...um....we finished. Let's just leave it at that.

And in case you don't think this race was serious, we even had timing chips. Yup - a whole tray of chips:

And after the race, knowing we had to refuel and rehydrate, we finished up with this:

Life is good, my friends. Life is good.

Opa!

If there's one thing I am not lacking, it's kefi.

Yup - my kefi is very evident lately - which is a good thing, because if you've lost your kefi - then what's the point, really?

And what is kefi?

Passion...enthusiasm...zest for life.

Kefi.

Greeks have kefi. They have that passion...that enthusiasm...that zest for life.

And tonight, we celebrated our family's familial kefi by indulging in some delicious Greek food at a local restaurant, where belly-dancing, plate smashing, and ouzo abounds.

Although in the spirit of full disclosure, I should state here that I, personally, did not abound in belly-dancing, plate smashing or ouzo. Not only did I not abound, I didn't even partake. Although I was certainly tempted - especially the ouzo.

The food was delicious...we began with a shared appetizer of Saganaki, which is a flaming cheese served with pita bread. Yes - it's served flambe, which my kids thought was pretty awesome.

The cheese was hot, delicious and ooey-gooey...and we snarfed it up in no time.

For dinner, we each got something different...

...12-year old daughter enjoyed her Kotopoulo Riganato, otherwise known as broiled chicken seasoned with lemon and oregano...

...19-year old son knoshed on a Chicken Kabob, which was seasoned exactly the way he liked it...

...22-year old son went traditional with the Gyro Plate...

...Hubby went for the Pork Chops, which I wouldn't have thought of as "Greek" - but they were delicious...

...and I went for something new and different, the Dolmathes, where were grape leaves stuffed with ground beef topped with an egg lemon sauce. Delicious - especially the lemon sauce.

After dinner, we came home and popped in "My Life in Ruins" in the DVR, which is a delightful romantic comedy set against the stunning backdrop of beautiful Greece.

A great Greek night...celebrating our kefi.

Sometimes, it's fun to step outside our box...our comfort zones, if you will...and explore new foods...new cultures...new ideas. My kids were hesitant at first, but they all came away this evening with something they liked.

Their kefi was renewed.

Opa.

Meet the Quackers

Over the years, our household population has expanded and decreased at various times...

...at one point, we had five kids and two adults...

...some kids moved on and moved out, but they would be replaced by a foreign exchange student here or there....

Over the last few years, our census has been slowly shrinking, as our little birds flee the nest.

And speaking of nests....

We now have three new members of our household.

Meet....the Ducks.

The Ducks moved into our backyard about a week ago, and they appear to be quite comfortable with their surroundings. Mama Duck appears to be a bit injured, and I'm not sure if her sore leg is what has "grounded" the ducks to our little abode - but it's been quite fun to watch their antics.

The two male ducks love to chase each other around in the back yard, while Mama Duck sits and chastises them. They just ignore her - as teenage males are prone to do with their interfering mama.

Things are no different in the animal world, apparently, as they are in the people world.

When the boys aren't causing trouble, they sit...quietly and loyally...taking care of their mama. We've watched them as they waddle along beside her as she limps her way down to our dock, which fortunately, isn't too far.

And you're probably wondering...really? You're blogging about a trio of ducks in your back yard? Why am I still here? Why am I still reading this?

But if you ARE still reading this...then you know just how kinda' cool it is to have ducks...in your own backyard.

Life can move pretty fast - and it's moments like these, when you stop and watch the ducks, that makes it all worthwhile.

Peace.