When the Wisconsin Football Coaches Association inducted my grandfather into its Hall of Fame, Oshkosh High School named its football field after him. As a coach, his teams won state championships in 1964, 1965, 1968, and 1971.
I vaguely remember when he visited us in 1988. “I just hope I live long enough to see these boys play,” he told my dad.
It will feel so otherworldly when you hear a voice within you that is peaceful and kind. A voice that’s unburdened by the sense that everything you do is wrong and that your life is on the verge of collapsing at any minute. You’ll just be in the shower or lying in bed at night or reading a novel, and this voice will confidentially break through all the noise. From time to time, the voice will offer you a clear insight, and just like that you’ll know what to do in the kind of situation that might have terrified you in the past. Maybe, just maybe, this voice is what Christians call “the Holy Spirit.”
At my high school — for the sake of this post, let’s call it Boarding School — students were required to attend a religious service. Options included Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, or Muslim observances, or there was even “sacred silence” for those who didn’t identify with a particular religion. Sacred Silence occurred once a week and was open to anyone who might be interested in sitting in a dark chapel to think, meditate, or pray.
I in a house with two guys who are slightly younger than me. My block is in a part of the city that has an ify reputation, but my neighbors look out for each other. Many of those neighbors are involved in a church a couple blocks away that is known for a variety of creative projects: a community garden, a daycare, a book review, and a Community Development Corporation that takes on a variety of housing initiatives throughout the neighborhood. While it is not a church I personally attend, I have a lot of respect for what they do, and I hang out with congregants from there regularly.
Last fall, I did some substitute teaching while I looked for a full-time job. One day I was working at a school in the north part of the city. It was a beautiful fall day, and I had an abnormally long lunch break, so I decided to take a walk. I knew I was close to a trail that cuts through a large portion of the city, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get there. So I started walking east, cutting through side streets as necessary.