Turbulent Time Traveler

Start with the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and work your way backward in time. This time maybe you will clearly see a country where people in one "group" relied on unjust laws and entitlements to deny basic human rights to people in another "group." You would be back in a turbulent time in this country, where cultural conflicts often turned violent: church bombings, lynching, and angry mobs. You would witness government agents using and abusing the power of the "law" against innocent, law-abiding citizens. You will hear the words of an angry governor who became the face of injustice, standing in a school doorway, promising segregation forever. White-robed Klansmen. Black fists held up in defiance. Struggle. We all know how that ended.

Start with the capture of the Reichstag in April, 1945, and work your way backward in time. Maybe this time you will clearly all the signposts along the road to the Holocaust. You would be back in a turbulent time in this world, in the Europe of the new Third Reich, where one "group" labeled another "group" unlawful, requiring them to register, and then carry identification papers, and then to be marked as "other." You would witness government agents use the power of the Nuremberg "laws" to target innocent, law-abiding citizens. You would witness most of the population of the Third Reich countries, neither Jew nor Nazi, standing silent, doing nothing. Smoke from the concentration camps issuing into the sky. White ash drifting down. We all know how that ended.  

Start with the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934 on any Native American reservation in the United States, and work your way backward in time. This time maybe you will clearly see the federal government in Washington, and in states across the union, working to push one "group" of people into physical allotments of land to provide another "group" the economic opportunities that came with territorial expansion. You would be back in a turbulent time in the frontier areas of this country, where fear justified incivility, hostility, violence, even slaughter. You would see government agents us the "law" of the land to deny basic human rights to men, women, and children who had lived on that land for centuries. Little Big Horn. Wounded Knee. A trail of tears. We all know how that ended.

Now, start in current day Arizona and work your way forward in time. What will happen as we respond to the new law regarding individuals in our country who have crossed the border illegally, especially the injustice inherent in this law that gives government agents the power to target individuals they believe belong to a certain "group." Law is good and necessary, but not at the expense of justice. Order is good and necessary, but not at the expense of freedom. Security is good and necessary, but not at the expense of humanity.

In this turbulent time in Arizona, fear is once again a powerful factor. Entitlement is once again a powerful factor. Economic opportunities are once again a powerful factor. Still, as we respond to this new law of the land and the needs of the people, let it be all the people. This time let us not fail civility, humanity, freedom, or social justice. And where those things do not exist, let us not stand silently by, witnessing, doing nothing.

So how will it end as we travel forward in time from here? It's hard to know, but history has a lot to teach us.



Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

See Thy Gifts, See That Bounty

These days when our family sits down at the dinner table and we join hands to say our blessing over the meal, we are often led in prayer by the youngest in the family, three-year old Tristan, who does his best to repeat the words as he has come to understand them. To me it sounds something like this: "Guess this Lord. See Thy gifts? See that bounty? Amen." and he finishes with a big smile and a round of applause, and we all dig in to supper.

Someday in the not-too-distant future he'll learn the words correctly, or he'll be too shy or too cool to show such joy in saying grace, and I know already I'll forever miss the feeling of abundance he brings our family at the start of every meal. The only thing I can do about it is enjoy it while it lasts, I guess. Such is life.

Even though the words of the prayer are not officially "See Thy Gifts, See that Bounty", it's really not a bad piece of advice from a three-year old. After all, how often do we really look at our food, at what it is we call nourishment? How often do we think about or demonstrate respect for what it is we put in our bodies? I think a closer relationship with food is a good and healthy thing.

My wife insists on cooking a large Sunday meal and does so almost every week; it's a traditional family meal that ends one week and begins the next week, and requires that our family sit around the table for longer than is possible in the ebb and flow of busy week days. Sitting down for a meal is a priority in our family, and we are able to manage it almost every night. But Sundays are the best. She doesn't take short cuts as she cooks, and the food tastes better for the love and effort that goes into the making of it. I could write pages and pages about her soup, for instance, and every page would be another love letter. (But that's another story!)

This summer at the Holocaust Seminar I had the opportunity to partake in a traditional Jewish meal at a synagogue, and we were taught the Jewish custom of L'chaim, a short blessing before a meal that literally translates "To Life". Food is life. The lack of food is death. It makes sense that a people that wandered hungry in the desert with Moses for forty years would thank God for the gift of life every time they ate. It would be wise of all of us to take this approach. There are so many people working hard to provide us our food, and there are so many people who are hungry, even starving, that every meal is truly a blessing, though it can be hard to recognize it in this fast food, mega-store, big gulp culture, where food can be a little too cheap and easy.

Sometimes after our Sunday meals I'll say a short prayer with my family written by Wendell Berry, a Kentucky poet and farmer, called "A Prayer After Eating", and it goes like this: "I have taken in the light/Which quickened eye and leaf/May my brain be bright with praise/Of what I eat/In the brief blaze/Of motion and of thought/May I be worthy of my meat."  My kids giggle at the last line, but it means a lot to me, and if I'm lucky they'll come to understand it someday: what I eat gives me the strength to move and think. I should live with respect for that, and with gratitude. A meal is a blessing, and food is sacred. May I be worthy of my meat, indeed.   


Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

That Lousy Holiday: A Reflection on Labor Day

I remember one holiday weekend when I was about ten my dad giving my brothers and I a full slate of chores to do around the yard and house. It wasn't that we didn't normally have chores, we did, but this was an unusually high amount of work to do. Finally, I asked him why I couldn't go off and just ride my bike or throw the football around or something.

"It's Labor Day," he told me. "Labor means work. You're supposed to work hard on Labor Day."

"Well that's a lousy holiday," I told him, as I shuffled miserably back to my chores.

That story makes me laugh now as I think about it, but like many of you, I grew up not really understanding why Labor Day is recognized as a holiday in this country. But in the spirit of Labor Day I've been thinking about it, and have come to believe it's time we appreciate it for what it is.

Labor Day was established by the US government as a gesture towards American trade and labor organizations in 1894 after a crippling strike by Chicago railroad workers turned into a violent confrontation with the military. It was established in September to be set apart from May 1 labor demonstrations which are recognized all over the world, and often linked to the influence of Marxism on the world. I saw a May 1 labor demonstration in Paris in 1990, and couldn't believe the volume of men and women marching through a major world city holding placards and protest signs. There were speeches made all day, all over the city, about labor and benefits and quality of life, and despite the loud voices and cheering in the streets, it was a very peaceful day in Paris, and an eye-opener for me. It was much different than the American Labor Day tradition since 1909 which is politically low key, and typically a day of rest and festival for workers and their families.

Right now so many of us here locally, across Michigan, and in our country, are without work, or employed in jobs below the expertise they have as workers or below the pay grade that they need to live without stress, or face everyday uncertainty about how long the job they do have will be around before the small business closes or the factory ships the jobs elsewhere. It is a very stressful time in American labor. In fact, labor, employment, might be the most important need our country has right now.

So it might be time to revisit the spirit of Labor Day. Not in the "demonstrate" tradition of it, but in the "time to work hard" tradition my dad gave to me about thirty years ago. When I got my first job at fifteen slinging tacos at Taco John's in Niles, my grandpa pulled me aside for a serious talk. My grandpa owned his own plumbing business in Niles which he began after the Great Depression and had to build from the ground up from his own blood, sweat, and tears. He told me that the person who owned Taco John's was putting his life's work in my hands, and it was my responsibility to do my best, every day, to honor that person's sacrifices, and the trust he put in me. "Work hard for the owner", my grandpa told me. "It's your responsibility."

There are so many workers out there who need that lecture from my grandpa, especially young people. There are so many who don't put in an honest day's work, but expect to get paid for it. And there are so many who feel like the hard work is beneath them: they don't want to labor or clean or do the dirty work, so they leave it for somebody else to do. So many young people think they're going to graduate high school and live on their own, drive a new car, have all the toys, etc., but forget that kind of economic freedom comes at a price, and somebody has to pay it.

I believe our local area will turn around, that Michigan will turn around, and that our country will turn around, but I don't believe it won't come without hard work. I believe I will contribute to that turn around by doing my job as hard and well as I can to educate kids, and that you will contribute to it by doing your job as hard and as well as you can. If we can get everybody doing that, from the guy who digs the ditches, to the woman that designs the buildings, to the kid slinging tacos for minimum wage, we'll pull ourselves out of it. America has always been an ingenious country. We have to be a hard-working one, too. All of us.

Recently my father-in-law told my twelve-year old son a story about work ethic. He told my son that after work every day, when he looks in the mirror, he maybe could have fooled his co-workers about his effort that day, and maybe he could have fooled the boss, but when he looks in his own eyes he can't fool himself, and he never wants to look himself in the eye and know he didn't work hard that day. That's how he was raised. So now my son's grandpa, like my grandpa, passed on an important message which can become a great life lesson.

This Labor Day let's all reflect on what it means to work, and to work hard, and pass that message on. Labor Day isn't lousy, after all.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

An Open Letter to Students for the First Day of School

Nothing I can do but tell it like it is: time for the start of another year. The first day of school is almost here.

I can't pretend that's completely good news anymore than students can pretend it's completely bad. There is something fun and exciting for students about getting back to school where the friends, the crushes, the teachers, and the fun, funny, crazy, inspiring, breathtaking things that will happen inside and outside classrooms, hallways, cafeterias, gyms and busses are waiting to begin all over again.

I don't know how school has gone for your personally in the past, but the beautiful thing about this year is that it will be different from the last. What different means I can't tell you; I don't know if different will be better, or if different will be worse, but I can guarantee you, what will make this year different better, or different worse, will depend more on you than any other person. If you choose right now to have a great school year, it can happen, and nobody can stop you. Of course, the opposite is true: if you choose not to have a great year, it will be hard to keep that from coming true, too.

With that in mind, there are some things you can do on your very first day of school to begin a great year.

• Ask a question during each class on the first day, even a small one. That will help you, your classmates, and your teacher recognize that you have a voice, and that you're tuned in from day one. I know it's easier to stay quiet, but everyone will be glad you were brave enough to ask.
• Write down five goals for the year and tape them to your locker or your desk that first day. Make sure they're real goals, but goals you have to push to reach. It's so much easier to keep working towards success when you remind yourself what success you're working towards.
•  Find a new kid in your class, grade, or school and be friendly towards him or her. You don't have to be BFF, but you can Be a Friendly Face. Nobody ever got less popular because they chose to be friendly.
• Find your old friends in class on day one and say "dude, great to see you. Let's have some fun. But remember, I have to do well, so let's agree to keep on the right side of the teacher and our grades." No matter if you're top of the class, or the class clown trying to change your act, your friends will respect that if you ask it of them. Don't believe me? I dare you to try it and mean it!

I don't know if you know that as a teacher I am preparing right now to have an exciting, fun year of learning. I start every year wanting to reach and teach every student, to make a difference, to laugh and learn every day, and to help you make your dreams come true. That's why I got in this business, why almost all of us got into this business.

And I do understand how important summers are to you, because they are to me for the same reasons: time to rest and relax a little, to blow off steam, to put some time and distance between the last school year. And just like you're counting on this year being different, so am I. Summers are great, but they're only great because they have school years on either side. I will be sad to see summer go, but I'll be even more excited to find out what the school year has in store.

I want you to know that on that first day, I will be as nervous as you are, as we stare at each other across the classroom and say our first good mornings. I hope that day we can start something together that we'll enjoy as it unfolds. And I hope what happens in class will mean something to you for the rest of your education, no matter how far you go.

I also want you to know that no adult, no parent, teacher, coach, or friend can open your mind or heart until you open it yourself. I can ask you to do things, and send you to the office if you refuse to do them, but I can't make your brain think, I can't make your heart feel, I can't make your spirit rise. Only you can. If you do your part, I promise to do mine. And we'll have a great year together, starting on day one.

It will be here soon.


Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

The Peace of Living Things

Something strange is happening in my world this spring, and at the risk of sounding a bit loony, I am wondering if it's happening in your world, too, or if this experience is a rare gift I've been given. I understand that it might actually be the mild weather we've been having, or the ample rain, but for some reason I am enjoying an unusual season of wild animals at my house and around town, and I think it might perhaps be an experience of grace. I'll explain.

A few weeks ago I was racing to Kalamazoo for some reason, and I saw a medium-sized turtle crossing 31st street. I was able to steer the car to avoid him, but because I was in a hurry I didn't stop and play the role of gentleman or boy scout. I told my twelve-year-old son about that turtle and he spent the next ten minutes lecturing me about not helping it cross the road. "How would I feel if that turtle was killed by a car?", he demanded. I was certainly relieved when we drove that stretch of 31st street later that day and saw no squished turtle. Whew!

But still I promised my son I would do better if given another chance, and man, have I ever. In the past three weeks I have escorted perhaps a dozen turtles cross the road, including a prodigious beast of a snapper across Mill Lake Road. I didn't pick that one up, but rather kept at its heels like a sheep dog. It wasn't really worried about me or the occasional car that passed us both, nor was it in a hurry to get where it was going, so I had enough time with the turtle that it turned from grotesquely ugly to grotesquely kind of handsome. When it finally lumbered into the safety of tall grass, I wished it well, and went along my way, too, pleased with both of our efforts.

Call it karma, but two days ago I walked out to get the paper and I saw another beast of a snapper in my own yard, digging into the sand and soft dirt where we keep the swing set. I guessed what was going on because I had seen that sort of thing on the Discovery Channel, but this was the real thing: a momma turtle laying eggs right in my front yard. Over the next hour or so my family watched the turtle from a distance in wonder and appreciation for the miracle of life, the blessing of nature around us, for what poet Wendell Berry called "the peace of wild things", which is his cure for any despair in the world.

In his famous fantasy poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridge shares the lesson of the sailor who takes life for granted and acts irresponsibly by killing an albatross, a great sea bird. He is punished many times over for his arrogance and his offense to Heaven about such disregard for life, and it isn't until the sailor recognizes God's beauty in all living things that his punishment ends and he is then graced with the appearance of angels instead of the visions of death that had haunted him for so long.

Many of us, much of the time, speed busily past the turtles crossing the road. We don't take the time to see, or refuse to see, the rich natural beauty in this place that we call home, and so do so many other creatures. I confess I haven't been able yet to see the beauty in the ticks I've pulled off my skin this spring or the mosquitoes that crowd around me every chance they get, but I did see my first Massasauga rattlesnake making his way peacefully across a field and was glad for it. A beautiful, ghostly crane took up brief residence in the creek behind our house. I am still looking for a cougar (safely, from a distance), but turkeys and deer have become regular visitors around the house. We're like one big happy family: squirrels, spiders, bats, rabbits, kids, and all.

I admit that I find myself both humbled and excited by the experiences of the nature I've been enjoying for the past several weeks. And a couple of months from now, if all goes well, I'll be able to help a dozen or more newly hatched snapping turtles find the creek behind the house that reaches into the lake across the street. Safely across the street, that is. Hopefully they'll recognize me as a friend.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

Insane Money

Remember the shockingly-blonde, spiky-haired television fitness guru Susan Powter who used to shout STOP THE INSANITY! into the camera when telling people to quit overeating and lying on the couch all day killing themselves with bad habits. Her voice and those words are firmly in my head as I think about what I want to get across in this column.

Everybody knows somebody right now, probably many somebodies, who are struggling to make ends meet in this difficult financial time. Parents (and others) are losing jobs, falling behind on mortgage payments, wondering how to put a meal on the table and keep the house from going back to the bank. It's a very stressful, day-to-day existence in those households.

It's stressful too for institutions and agencies. Schools are having to reduce the number of employees under the pressure of the balanced budget and reduced revenues, and that means fewer adults to help care for and teach our children. The county and other local governments have to leave road and other projects undone, or half done, and that means things like road repairs and other infrastructure projects may or may not get done anytime soon. 

Still, in the face of an economy that is changing life in fundamental ways at so many levels of our communities, some people haven't figured out that it must also mean a change in the way we live. People cannot expect to maintain the lifestyle they had a year ago, or five years ago, when the finances aren't available. What used to be a given in many houses is now a luxury, or even an impossibility. Two weeks ago I had to make the difficult decision to cancel the Gobles Class of 2009 trip to Cedar Point. Not enough of our graduates could afford the $55 ticket, so less than half of the class signed up to go. We couldn't afford the bus. Simple as that. The senior class has taken that trip every year in a tradition that goes back before I arrived in town in 1995.

After students were told that our Cedar Point trip was cancelled I was contacted by one very generous parent who was willing to pay the $350 needed for the bus. I declined. Mostly it was because I want people to understand that we can't go on trying to provide what we've always provided because we don't have the money to do so. That $350 wasn't going to help the students who couldn't afford to go to Cedar Point, it was only going to help the people who had already paid their $55. I just don't think it's the right message to send right now.

This year it cost a minimum of $650 for a senior boy to go to prom, pay for only the most basic graduation materials, attend grad bash, and pay for the other costs and fees associated with the last three months of school. Minimum. In 2008 the Grad Bash Committee spent almost $15,000 on a one-day event. We can't continue to do that, (I don't think it should have been done in the first place), because the next class steps up thinking "we have to keep up with what has happened already, or let's outdo the one last year." When schools are letting teachers go, those priorities are insane. It's time to scale back, to redefine priorities, to think differently about what money is worth, and what it can and cannot buy.

Money is just another form of energy. So is creativity and ingenuity. So is hard work. My mother-in-law remembers fondly when students in Gobles had more of the good things that money can't buy. Instead of a $10,000 prom with girls wearing $400 dresses, the classes worked together to put on a fun prom at the school that cost almost nothing, and everybody could afford to go. The senior class packed a picnic and headed to the beach for a day for the class trip. Again, everybody could afford to go. Sure, they needed to put more work into it, but they didn't spend the day missing out on anything. My grandmother told me that during The Great Depression her family spent time playing cards together for fun and being grateful for what they did have.

I think we need to learn these lessons of the past, and let go of our crazy mentality that more and more money and more things are what a perfect childhood requires. Right now we should turn to creativity, ingenuity, and elbow grease to make memories, and not the checkbook.  

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

Hallowed Ground

I have been to Arlington National Cemetery in Washington D.C. twice in my lifetime. Those of you who have had the opportunity to visit Arlington are likely familiar with the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The tomb contains the remains of soldiers who served and were killed in the line of duty in this nation's wars from World War I through the Korean Conflict, and who were not identified after losing their lives in the service of our country. There was a Vietnam soldier there, too, but his remains were identified in 1988 and immediately returned to family in Missouri.

Because these soldiers could not be identified, they could not be laid to rest in whatever places they called home by the people who knew their names and called them son, father, husband, brother, sweetheart, or friend. Instead, these soldiers were laid to rest, unknown, and given the permanent honor now bestowed on them in Arlington. The tomb is guarded twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, and has not been left unguarded for even one moment since 1930, even when Hurricane Isabel hit Washington D.C. in 2003 and tropical winds and rain overturned cars and downed trees and flooded the nation's capital. The guards were ordered to take shelter while the storm passed for their own personal safety, but refused. These guards are proud and precise, and every step they take is done in tribute to the soldiers. They are on guard this very minute.

Recently I learned that twenty three soldiers from five different wars are laid to rest at Pine Grove Cemetery, including two from the Civil War who can no longer be identified. Pine Grove Cemetery is barely larger than a football field, almost hidden along the hill and curve where Paulson and Wise roads come together. In many ways the Pine Grove Cemetery could not be more different than Arlington, but in many ways the two cemeteries could not be more the same. Both are hallowed ground.

E Pluribus Unum: out of many, one. Every place touches every other place. The ground at Pine Grove Cemetery is part of the same fabric of land, over hill and through valley, over mountains and across rivers and oceans, as the land our soldiers march on and serve on and fight on, and where they sometimes fall. Our ground here also touches Arlington National Cemetery, where guards are always on duty, giving honor to fallen soldiers.

The wars in this country are not really wars that happen far away from home. Battles that happened in Iwo Jima, or the Mekong River Delta, or the trenches of Marne, or at Gettysburg or Bull Run, or in Afghanistan or Baghdad, have been and continue to be fought by local people: the best, and brightest, and bravest that our local communities can contribute to the great causes of this country. And even when the battles are fought in some distant land, back home the families who miss and love these soldiers wake each day to their own battle: they combat fears and worries with hopes, and prayers.

Just this week I learned Jake Johnson, a Gobles graduate, a smart and friendly young man I had the pleasure to teach and watch grow from adolescent to adult, landed in Iraq to begin his second tour with the United States Marines. Back home in Gobles his family and fiancée feel the swell of pride and anxiety every day he's away. Jake patrols Iraq but protects Gobles. It's what soldiers understand, and it's what keeps them going. It's what soldiers who died in service gave their lives for, and why we must honor them all, at Arlington National Cemetery, and everywhere they are laid to rest.  

There's a cemetery right around the corner from you that is hallowed ground, where soldiers who once fought our wars now rest in peace. Your corner of land, where you mow the lawn and throw the baseball around and feed the birds, was defended by our soldiers many times in the last 200 years and is defended yet today. Around another corner a veteran who wore the uniform of soldier during wartime or peacetime lives and works and raises a family in our small town. Around still another corner a family misses a soldier right now who is off answering the great call of freedom somewhere in the world. Around another corner a guard paces back in forth in front of a marble tomb at Arlington. Listen closely and you'll hear his steady footsteps.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

The Peace that Follows

In February of 1864, nineteen-year old Alexander Smith from Kalamazoo found himself in the deep south fighting for the Union Army in the Civil War. He saw combat action in South Carolina and Florida, and in April, 1865, his Regiment took in Confederate soldiers who surrendered their guns under the white flag of truce. The war was over, and Alexander Smith survived it. He returned to Michigan to live out the rest of his life.

Beyond the Civil War, in his life Smith would know peace that follows. And beyond his death, local patriots are making sure he continues to rest in that same peace he helped our country earn. Even more extraordinary about Smith's story is that he was a black man, fighting with the 102nd Regiment of the United States Colored Troops, Company F. Alexander Smith risked his life to fight for a country that had not yet even given him basic rights.

On Saturday, May 16, at 2 p.m. in the Pine Grove Cemetery, at the corner of Wise and Paulson Roads in Gobles, Smith and four other Civil War veterans will be remembered in a ceremony to rededicate their tombstones, repaired and replaced by the men and women of the General Pritchard Camp 20 Sons of the Civil War and the Daughters of the Union, 1861-1865.

144 years after the end of the Civil War, local men and women continue to remember and honor the veterans of our nation's bloodiest period. People like Tom Bruce of Gobles are on a mission to make sure the brave soldiers who fought in the Civil War continue to be honored, and that their descendants are aware of the years of service these soldiers gave to our country. Bruce is a member of the local Sons of the Civil War unit, General Pritchard Camp 20, out of Kalamazoo.

Bruce has taken charge of surveying the cemeteries of Van Buren County for the grave stones of Civil War veterans, and that means visiting cemeteries long forgotten, and even overgrown. He described finding grave sites in small local cemeteries that have sunk deep into the earth, and are overgrown with vegetation, stones aged and weathered over time and in disrepair. That's where Bruce and his friends take over. Working with local governments and the federal government, Sons of the Civil War contact the right people to provide new tombstones and needed repair to the sites where these soldiers have been laid to rest. The work is volunteer, and funds to pay for the repairs are provided by a federal government program for veterans. No local money is used to pay for this effort.

Bruce and the Sons of the Civil War also attempt to contact the descendants of the veterans, to provide information about the whereabouts of ancestors long gone, and often forgotten. Bruce describes contacting descendants in Oregon who were not aware of the effort on behalf of their ancestor.

Come out to the re-dedication ceremony at the Pine Grove Cemetery. It's an opportunity to join the men and women who continue to honor the veterans of our nation's Civil War, to contribute your presence and thoughts and prayers of gratitude and remembrance for the sacrifices that made our country what it is today. The peace that followed Alexander Smith's service in the Civil War in 1865 is the same peace we enjoy today in a country made stronger by having once tested its unity in a bloody war, and, as in the Battle Hymn of the Republic, whose truth goes marching on. 


Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.   

Something Bigger: A Reflection on an Upcoming Election

On Tuesday May 5 citizens around Southwest Michigan will once again participate in the great responsibility of our democracy by electing candidates to public office and deciding to enact or reject important local ballot issues. Compared to the excitement about the election last November, this vote is just a sleepy little day to take care of business, but it's a day critical to the operations of school districts, and other public agencies, and it's the bread and butter of that idea that we are a country that governs itself of the people, by the people, and for the people.

Around Gobles and Bloomingdale, Pine Grove, Pullman, Kendall, Grand Junction, and all the rest, we are lucky that our public trust is almost always in the hands of good neighbors, folks that live just down the road and give freely of their time, energy, and talent, to help things run the way they're supposed to; most of the time the schools, roads, drains, libraries, municipal, emergency, and other services are invisible to us: they take care of our needs without us having to think about them. Think about that! That's not true everywhere in this world, and it's so true here we often take it for granted. That's no small thing.

Still, it's normal to notice when things don't work perfectly, and anybody who has worked in a service position knows that you can't make everybody happy. When elected officials can't provide complete satisfaction for every person and every complaint, they often end up with an earful of upset citizen.

Certainly any trustee on our local school boards would love to have access to all of the money to fund all of the projects that meet the needs of all of the people. Swimming pools at all the elementary schools: sure! Laptops for all the kids in the middle schools? Why not! College scholarships for all our high school graduates: absolutely! But because unlimited funds never exist, our elected officials have to make tough decisions, and right now it's even tougher: just like in the homes around here, money is tight for schools, municipalities, businesses, everywhere. When money is scarce, creativity, prioritization, sacrifice, and tough decisions are the only responsible answers, and disagreement must follow. That's part of the process, I'm afraid.

Because people don't always agree on priorities or public interest, there have been a few troubling occasions in the last few years in our small, local governments where people have forgotten that service means putting others first. Even more troubling is the thought that some people believe elections are about personality, personal priority, or personal problems they have with other people who have been called to serve.

It has been true around here too many times that normal government operations (election campaigns, monthly meetings, etc.) have been occasions for bad behavior. Recently a friend who lives in one of the communities that makes up a neighboring school district, described such public disrespect between citizens about public issues that I told her it sounded like it slander. We all deserve better than that.

More than 200 years ago the founding fathers of this country gave us the power to govern ourselves and the responsibility to do it wisely. On May 5 we will once again elect representatives and decide ballot measures, and then put the public trust in the hands of those we have elected to serve. We will not always agree as citizens with every decision or every person that influences our lives, but we are all, every last one of us, smaller than that something bigger called community, or the common good.

Our democracy is, and should be, the best of us. If we hold true to our responsibility to put that something bigger first, and do not compromise on our values, we can disagree respectfully, make tough decisions together, and provide a robust democracy in the smallest of places we call home. 


Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.  

Hall of Fame Career

Those of you who follow sports know that if a professional baseball player gets 3,000 hits over the course of a career, that player will almost certainly end up with a permanent shrine in the Baseball Hall of Fame. I don't know how many of you follow baseball, but 3,000 base hits is a tremendous and difficult thing. It must be if it results in such an honor.

Teaching is also a tremendous and difficult thing. So what happens when a teacher retires after teaching almost 3,000 students over the course of a career in the same school district? There's no Hall of Fame for that, but doggone it, there should be.

This spring Carol Brill will retire from Gobles Public Schools having taught somewhere around 3,000 different students over the course of a career that reaches back into the 1960's. In her nearly forty years in the classroom Mrs. Brill has seen it all and done it all, and all the while remained a loving, steady, positive presence for her students.

If you were to ask Mrs. Brill about teaching as the country changed through the Vietnam era, or about how racial tension of the 1970's affected us here in the Gobles era, or how computers changed the work of teachers, or about how many times she's seen (and had to adjust) to the latest, greatest thing, she could tell you about all the change that has happened to our culture, and in education. She has seen so many changes over the course of her career.

But what has kept her in it for forty years is the thing that hasn't changed at all, and the thing she's best at: teens are teens, and they have always and will always need people like Carol Brill to help them grow up. I can't imagine how many heartbreaks Carol Brill has heard about in forty years and helped mend, or how many big shot athletes that needed help to pass the test, or how many times a shy young kid bloomed with confidence because of the extra attention she got from her English teacher.

During her career she has coached, directed plays, led field trips, stayed late into the night grading papers or calling parents, attended countless athletic events, held the hands of students who just needed somebody to care about them through a difficult time. She has mentored and supported new teachers coming into the profession, including teachers who once sat in front of her as students. She has believed in the mission of our school district and the calling of her profession, and given both of those things all that she has to give.

People like Carol Brill can't be replaced. When she retires at the end of this school year, Gobles Public Schools will lose all the memory and compassion that a long and wonderful career can hold.  Like many of her colleagues, Mr. Brill is a graduate of Gobles, and has spent the majority of her life learning and teaching in the same building. She has been making our school and community better for as long as most of us can remember.  

So there are 3,000 of you out there who know what I'm talking about. You won't be able to go to a hall of fame to pay tribute to Mrs. Brill after she retires, but you could drop her a note, or you might run into her around town somewhere soon, or sometime down the road. If you get a chance, it's time to say thanks  and congratulations (certainly more than most teachers get much of the time), to wish her well and acknowledge everything she has given to this community. 

I don't want to take anything away from baseball players, but 3,000 base hits is really nothing compared to dedicating your life to the education and development of 3,000 students. It was a Hall of Fame career. 

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.  

Raise My Kids, Please

Mrs. Mollison's voice was piercing, and when I heard her yelling that twelve-year-old summer afternoon, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. First she yelled at her own son. "Jimmy, I had better not hear any more swearing back there, or you will be in serious trouble." And then she yelled at the two who really deserved it. "Corey Harbaugh and Pat Fisher, you watch your mouths. If I hear any more bad language out of you, I will call both of your mothers."

Blame adolescence, but we thought it would be cool to toss out a few cuss words while we played some baseball; we were blocks away from home and safe, so we thought. Well, after Mrs. Mollison put us in our places, the spunk went right out of us, and we returned to being the polite kids she required on her property. I don't think she ever called our moms. She didn't have to; she took it upon herself to correct our behavior, and we knew better than to act up again.

My dad was famous for that, too. He didn't care whose kid you were. If you had it coming, he'd give it to you. I remember a time a different friend, a big offensive lineman on our varsity football team, decided to speak back to his mother in front of my dad. Whoa. Bad move. By the time my dad finished with him, my friend was in tears, apologizing as fast as he could to his mom, my dad, me, and probably the dog, too. My friend knows he deserved it, and we still laugh about it to this day. He got the point.

So I don't know where the Mrs. Mollisons are around town nowadays, but I sure hope she's the mother of the friends of all my children. I hope when my son or daughter decides to practice an unacceptable behavior, the Mrs. Mollisons in my children's lives take it upon themselves to put them back in their places. I can't be everywhere, so, as the saying goes, it takes a village. In fact, isn't that exactly why so many of us chose these small towns for our families: we've got a village here. So consider this permission from me to help me raise my kids.

When I was principal I had occasion to work with kids and their parents who had a few things out of whack in their homes. The kids were often calling the shots, and the parents were afraid to upset, confront, or punish their kids; worse yet were the situations where parents were busy making excuses for their kids or trying to be their friends. It's hard to work with a kid when you have to work against the messages coming from their parents.

Let's be clear: kids want limits. They want people to love them enough to put boundaries around them. Yes, they will bump into those boundaries, but that's their job as kids. Our job as adults is to hold the line. And no matter a person's parenting style, all parents want the same thing for their kids: to grow up healthy, capable, strong, and successful. In order to do that, the kids have to learn by making mistakes, having those mistakes corrected, and trying again.

Thanks to my parents, and to the Mrs. Mollisons of my childhood, I turned out okay. But as a parent, I'm still a work in progress. Any help you can me, and my kids, is much appreciated.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.  

It's Happening Again: A Reflection on Spring

It's happening again now, right outside my window. I hadn't really noticed until this morning, when I woke to the kind of clean sunlight that changes the way we see things. I looked out the window to the trees, and I noticed the world outside is beginning to renew itself the way it does every Spring. I was glad to see it. Around here this year, after a long cold season, we earned our Spring.

People renew themselves, too, after the seasons they experience. I don't know how many cold seasons I have had in my life, seasons that were hard, bleak, long, or bitter, but I know every cold season of my life has been followed by a Spring. Even now at forty, I can still look forward to the new growth to come. I welcome it.

Spring cleaning means opening windows and airing out the house. It means touching up the yard, painting the deck, cleaning up inside and outside, and making things work that have sat untouched for months. This year for me it also means doing something about the size of my belly. I may not want to face it, but it's time for a renewal of the body.

Many of you know I returned to the classroom to teach this year after six years doing some other crazy thing, and I have enjoyed the renewal that this change brought to my life. Professionally and personally I have had to renew myself, and the result is new growth. I have had to figure things out and solve problems that didn't exist when I taught before. I have had to read new books and write new papers and think new thoughts along with my students. I am so glad I made that change. It has been a great renewal of the mind.

The Easter Season is upon us, and in the Christian churches around here and everywhere, the faithful will soon mark the death of Christ on Good Friday, and then, after three days, on Easter Sunday, The Resurrection. With this event Christians are brought once again into the great promise of the faith, and that is there is no end to renewal when you choose to rise with Christ. In Jewish temples, and in homes, around the Seder table, the faithful will celebrate Passover, a remembrance that God kept his promise (through Moses) to the Jewish people to free them from captivity in Egypt. Easter for Christians, just like Passover for Jews, is a chance for a great renewal of the spirit.

Wherever this spring finds you in mind, in body, and in spirit, may the season of renewal find you, and along with it the beginning of new growth in your life. Say what you want about Michigan and its tough winters, Spring is a gift both inside and out. Enjoy what is beginning to happen again, right outside your window, too.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.  

Nothing More, Nothing Less

It was seventh grade for me, but she was in eighth. She was beautiful, with big brown curls falling around her freckled face, and when she said she'd dance with me during one of the few slow songs playing in the cafeteria that afternoon, I had my second surprise in ten seconds. The first surprise was that I swallowed my fear long enough to ask her to dance at all.

We danced for three, maybe four minutes, our arms outstretched like two Frankensteins in a shoving match, and there was enough space between us that I'm sure a decent-sized collie could've run between us sideways. Still, we were close enough that I found out she smelled like baby powder, and that baby powder smell was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me, or would for years. But I tell you that smell was enough.

When the dance ended Jenny went back to her eighth grade friends, and I floated back to my little gang of gawkers. She and I shared nothing more and nothing less than one dance on a sunny autumn afternoon, but I thought about that dance every waking minute for the next few weeks, and even now I remember it sweetly, with a smile. I didn't get her number. We didn't hook up. There was no pressure or expectation that one dance should lead to anything more nor less magical than one dance.

I don't know if you've been paying attention to the message our culture gives teens these days about romance and how to treat the opposite sex, but if you've seen teenagers dancing in the new grind-it-out style, or cavorting on spring vacation and reality television shows, or if you're aware of the relaxed attitude many teens have about casual romance and unplanned pregnancy, you're probably wondering how to keep your kid safe from the proverbial wolf at the door. Teen romance often doesn't leave much to the imagination, or for adult relationships later in life, when a person is ready for real commitment and the adult consequences that follow.

Unfortunately, so many teens zoom right past the thrill and fulfillment that comes just from holding somebody's hand, or a simple dance, or even puppy love. Remember puppy love? Where did it go? I place some blame on our "gotta have more, thrill-a-minute" culture, some on our sexualized media, and the rest on parents who don't spend enough quality time, sharing experiences and driving home values that will protect kids physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially, etc., etc., etc. 

Recently the Gobles High School Grad Bash Committee threw what in my mind is the best party of the year: the annual Father/Daughter Dance. Usually my daughter and I will dress up and head to dinner beforehand where we sit down to a fancy meal and use our best manners. Then later, at the main event, I'll join a hundred or so other dads who spend the evening doting on their daughters. I dance like a fool to pretty much every song. Luckily my daughter is still young enough that I don't embarrass her too much. Yet. Most of the time she even lets me dance with her and her friends and they point and laugh. 

For me the dance is an opportunity to remind my daughter how important she is to me, and, perhaps, if I'm lucky, show her how she should demand to be treated in a few years when some young gentleman finally summons up enough courage to ask her to dance, or even on a date. Call me old-fashioned, but when it comes to my daughter, I'm old-fashioned. If you don't come with your manners, you won't leave with my daughter. Simple as that. My sons will get the same treatment, too, for the record.

Though I can't recreate 1981 for my children, I do want them to experience the real thrill that comes from the most innocent experiences. Experiences that are magical and wonderful, and begin and end with one dance on a sunny afternoon, and are nothing more, and nothing less, than all a happy, healthy teenager could need. 

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.  

A Tale of Two Countries

A few weeks ago I was discussing The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn with my tenth grade students as we finished our reading of the famous Civil War era novel. The novel was written at an important point in American history, and we were discussing America as the students understood it, both as it was in the mid-1800’s, and as it is now.

I asked students to help me brainstorm a list of associations and phrases they have about our country, and was not ready for what came when they started sharing ideas. I was expecting things like “Land of the Free and Home of the Brave,” or “City on a Hill,” or “The Great Melting Pot”, ideas I held as a tenth grader and that still hold true for me today. The 1980's was a different time in our country’s past, but I didn’t know it was so distant: what came forth from the students was like a punch in the gut.

“Greedy,” the first student said. Then other hands went up, and greedy was followed by words like “arrogant,” “fat and lazy,” and “always at war.” It was eight or nine students before the first one said something positive, which was “Freedom of Choice.” I was shocked and stunned by the word list. I usually know what to expect from my students, but I did not know these young adults would have more negative associations than positive ones for our country. How could a student think of our country as being “always at war”? We are a great and generous nation. We love peace and justice. What’s going on here?

And then it occurred to me. For a fifteen-year-old student, America has been at war for more than half that student’s life, and certainly since that student has been able to read a newspaper or share current events in a social studies class. For fifteen year olds, it might as well be always and forever (seriously, talk to them about their love lives!). These students are growing up at a time when America is staring its identity in the face, and is almost evenly split down the middle with people who think we should go in one direction, and people who think we should go in another. It makes me think of the time that our novel was set, when deep disagreement led our country to Civil War.

So after the Presidential Inauguration last week I shared poetry about our country with students, including the four poems written to mark the inauguration of a president, and each of these poems was full of the language that appeals to the best of us as citizens, and the high ideals of our country. We had great discussion about them, including focusing on why those who’ve come before us have given us (through great sacrifice) the great gifts of freedom and democracy, and how it’s now our turn to hold the torch and pass it on.

I asked the students to pick out a line from one of these poems and share why they think the message is important. With his permission, I want to share part of what one of my students wrote, a great 10^th grade writer and thinker named Nick Kline: the next generation’s vision of what America should be will become the foundations of what we will be. "If we can take a child's view of what America is, then we can give our children a place to be proud of. We can’t "visit" (the future) because we haven’t made it yet. (But) if we can remember all the great things about America, then that knowledge will be passed down from generation to generation."

A child’s view of America is our destiny. With students like Nick I have great hope for our future, but as adults we are the ones who inform them about what America has been, what it is, and how, despite our disagreements, what Nick called “the foundation” of what we must be. Pass it along. If we leave our definition of America to others, especially those who don’t understand or disagree with our core values, what our children come to understand may hit us back someday like a punch in the gut.

But if we protect it, if we point out the great promise of this country fulfilled when, no matter your politics, the former president and the new president shake hands and exchange power peacefully in front of the whole world, then our kids will understand. The great reality of America continues to be a work in progress, and our young people will have their chance to understand it, live it, and define it for themselves. It has already started.

Note: This blog post is from a series originally published as personal essays written for the Van Buren County Advertiser from 2008-2014 by Corey Harbaugh under the title It's All Good. The It's All Good columns were written to feature and celebrate life in and around Gobles, Michigan.