Lessons Learned

A blistering cold November wind hit my face and made my mind wonder back to a time of clowning with my knucklehead friends as we played sandlot full tackle, no pads football at Brooker Field.  The whirl of bike tires could be heard as Wiz, Kondas, and Ox met up with the likes of Ski, Ren, Patty O, Beck, and Delprince.   We would wait as Double D, Knepshield and many others would arrive in tattered clothes for a mud bowl. We were The “Boys of Brooker Field”. Decades of  wet and cold November days have come and gone since I last felt the mud of Brooker on my face.   The “Boys of Brooker Field” are men in our fifties with jobs and families.  Buckey and O'Rourke have walked through the end zone fog and waved goodbye for the last time.  We cannot see them, but we can still hear them laughing. We might be men in our fifties, but our lives reflect the lessons that we learned as we tackled each other and slid through the mud. Everyone plays ...

Richard “Dick” Oxley, Sr Eulogy   September 12, 2015 Presenter: Rick Oxley, Son On behalf of my Mom and our family,  we appreciate your comforting presence today.  The overwhelming love we have felt over the past few days from family and friends is up lifting.   My dad would say that we should have charged admission. We would like to thank Father Rodriguez for being our celebrant.  We would like to thank Deacon Gardner for a heartfelt personalized message.  My dad would be pleased that his friend, Mr. Wrisley, son-in-law Jack is an altar attendant.  We would like to thank Monica for being our accompanist and guardian angel. The longer you live the more your life simmers down to the very essence of who you are.   My Dad lived a good long life until it simmered down to one word and that word is friend. My brother and I can see my dad smile and the sparkle in his eye as he says my best friend and the person who m...

On Labor Day,  a working man, our father, walked through heaven's gate.  He was blessed to start his final walk with shoes on his feet, a hat on his head, and keys in his pocket.  Our father was a working man. My Dad's hands were like rocks showing the  loss of fingers and the scars from decades of toil.   His handshake was firm and his word was true.  Looking at his hands, you just knew without a doubt that our Dad took pride in a job well done.  His hands provided for his family.  Dad earned his working man hands. Our Dad's  hands had a gentle loving touch.   Mom and dad were married for 55 years and truly were a loving partnership.  He was an involved father who never missed his children's school events.  Dad guided his boys to become the men that they were meant to be and not the men he thought they should be.  He kept his promise to educate his boys.  He would smile and say, "I went to a one r...

Bucket List Meandering fifty miles in the shade of the  summer woods the past two weeks allowed my always churning ADHD brain to settle into a state of calmness.    The same calmness that I see in a woodland lake as the coolness of the water I sip quenches my thirst.   Sitting on a fallen sycamore log looking out at the reflection of trees in the lake,   I see a boy I knew many years ago looking back at this old man.     The man was once that boy who discovered the wonders of the woods and first sat looking at a woodland lake sipping water from his Boy Scout canteen. The boy had big dreams on his bucket list.   He was going to be an astronaut and then play the hot corner for the Tribe.    The boy dreamed as only a lad is able about the things he would do some day.    He ate his peanut butter sandwich and stared into the mirror like surface of the glacial kettle pond.    I smile thinking back to that...

Preparing for PARCC testing, second round evaluations, and the normal chaos of being a principal made me fell like I was running on empty.  It always seems when I am feeling overwhelmed as an educator something happens to remind me of why we teach children.  Today, a greater force sent a child messenger to teach an old man. My secretary's eyes said more than the note that she handed me.  Her moist red eyes provided emotion to the words.   I stood in shocked silence as I read that JP found his middle school sister unresponsive in the bathtub last night.  The squad and police responded.  His sister was transported to the hospital and is recovering.  I starred straight ahead avoiding eye contact as my secretary told me that JP was absent. My heart sank and I fought back tears.  My nose was burning as I thought about the young girl who was a student at our school last year.  Questions raced through my head. How was JP?  Was he safe? ...

Today, my friend was called home way too early in life.   He took care of his family and was a loyal friend.   He fought the good fight and he finished the race.   I find comfort today as I close my eyes and recall his good nature and the sound of his laugh. Alphabetical order placed O’Rourke next to Oxley in freshmen seventh period English.    Pat was a new kid in the Harbor and was fair game for some good natured pranking.    Someone convinced him that there was a swimming pool on the third floor of our seventy year old high school.   Pat went searching for the pool.    He laughed with us when he figured out that he was had.   O’Rourke passed our initiation and he became fast friends with a band of Harbor knuckleheads. O’Rourke was a kid from a loving family.   He had a strong work ethic and truly enjoyed the clowning nature of his friends.   In keeping with a Harbor tradition,   he quickly earned a nickname....

The Rules of Bottom-Feeder Leadership I am proud to be the last working school administrator with a direct connection to the original bottom-feeder school administrator club.    The following are the rules I learned from being mentored and mentoring a group of principle-centered leaders who do what is right.   Not all leaders receive the honor of being a bottom-feeder.    You must be vouched for, mentored by a current member, and earn trust.   Bottom-feeder leaders accept the consequences for their actions and differ the credit for success to their team. The rules committee meets annually to adjust, delete, or add to the list.      Potential bottom-feeders are called grasshoppers.    Vouched for members earn a nickname.     In keeping with tradition,   no one is allowed to choose their own nickname.     Rule 1               Put your fam...