A Little While Longer

Posted on August 5, 2026 by Bob Martin

Have you ever walked through a history museum where the walls were filled with pictures from the past? Each picture shows a person or persons either posing patiently or in the midst of some part of life. Some may have names listed (though they mean nothing to you), or the description would say person doing…

As a passer-by, you stand there looking at the faces looking out. You wonder just who they were, what the reason for the photo was (unless it is obvious), what happened to the people after the photo, and, possibly, whether anyone remembers them.

Old photo album

Yesterday, I started a project that I had been promising my wife I would do for the last five or more years. I began digitizing our past. As we begin to pack for moving, we are looking for ways to cut down on items. Photo albums actually take up a lot of space and weigh quite a bit. So the project had to happen. We also did not want to return to the East Coast with photo albums that we had brought from the East Coast—they had traveled enough.

The first albums on my pile came from my Aunt when she was cleaning out her house. The albums belonged to her, my mother, and my Nana. I grabbed the first one without ceremony. It was a big, black book with some pages falling out. The pages were thin sheets of black paper. Photos filled each one. I opened the book ready to grab the photos for scanning but found that I had to pause and appreciate the book itself.

Each page was filled with different-sized pictures, each held by four little corner tabs secured to the sheet. At first glance, I wondered why you would buy a book with such specific sizes predetermined. Then I realized, since some of the back pages were empty, that the owner actually created each page. The tabs were in an envelope secured to the back of the album. The user (funny—I didn’t know what else to call the person filling the book) would place the photo and then glue the tabs to secure the picture in place. This made me admire not the photos, but the thought that went into each page. Each was unique and told a little story of how the person wanted others to view their life.

Blank page of old photo album

I carefully started pulling the photos from their tabs. Much like a person sent to clean an attic and then getting caught up with the books or other things found up there, I started to be drawn into the photos. Some had the year at the bottom or on the back; most had no additional information outside of the picture itself. My mind was blown at the first date I noticed: 1925! I was holding a picture that was over 100 years old. Page four offered photos from 1917. My hands held the memories of people who have long since left us. But people who lived. People whose history is my history. People who could be part of the reason that I even exist.

The people stared out of their black and white world. There were the obligatory ‘stand by the tree in the front yard’ photos, but there were so many candid shots of them living life. I started looking carefully at the faces, the young faces, for signs of the older cousins that I used to know. Could I figure out who I was looking at? For some, it was an easy task; others remained unnamed. I saw my grandmother as a child of two. I saw her stand proudly in cap and gown on the day she graduated from high school. I watched her romp around in the lake with the man who would become my grandfather.

Man carrying woman out of lake

I am now determined to work with other cousins to put names to these faces as best as we can. I scanned hundreds of photos from these albums. So few with any information. So many just photos that will not mean anything to future generations. I will try to change that if possible.

I moved on to my parents’ albums. Those are marked a little better, but those faces, for the most part, have names in my head. As I digitize these, I am making sure to make notes on who, what, where, and when. I want my daughter and nieces to be able to know their past.

When I finished for the night, I started thinking about our generation and photos. We started like our parents. We had cameras containing film that had to be developed. We thought twice about whether something was worthy of a picture. Today—I do not know anyone who worries about whether it should be a picture; we snap away. The intention is to take a ton of pictures; we can go back and delete them later. I, for one, have never really gone back and cleaned up my pics. I started to wonder about all of those photos. There is no real information about them. Well, at least the camera gives a date stamp, but nothing else.

Father and two sons at beach

Who will know us in the future? Will anyone past a generation or two know our names; will they care about who we were? As I sat with my coffee this morning, I pulled up the family photos. I slowly clicked the right arrow as I went through my youth. Then I hit those old black-and-white photos. My finger did not push the button as fast. I found that I just wanted to linger a little longer on each one. I wanted to take in as much as possible.

I ended up with a photo of what I believe is my great-grandmother holding a child. The child might be my mother; I don’t know. It did not matter who they were; I just wanted them to know that they will be remembered, at least for a little while longer.

older woman with baby
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Good-bye To Tech – Well, Sort Of

Posted on August 3, 2026 by Bob Martin

This morning, I sat on the back porch watching the sun peek over the hills, sipping my coffee. I glanced down at my wrist to see if there were any new messages. I saw my analog watch in place of the Apple Watch that lived on my wrist for the last fifteen or so years. It was then that I realized that over the last couple of weeks, the only tweeting that was part of my life was that of the birds and not social media. I felt a sense of freedom that I had been missing for so many years. I thought about the chains that I had allowed to wrap around me through my work.

Analog watch showing the time to be 7:20

 As a teenager, I often heard the phrase, “Hindsight is 20/20.” While I do not hear this spouted as often, I believe it still rings true. It is so easy to look back and see how or why you made the decisions that led you down the different paths you took. Some of the choices stand out as fantastic, others make you shake your head and question of what you were thinking, but most make you go, “OK – I guess that was a good choice.”

During these first few weeks of retirement, one thing I am looking back at with new eyes is my use of technology in relation to my work. I want to say that I am doing this with the eye of a sage, that I now have the enlightenment of being the wise elder ready to pass on his wisdom. Nah. It is just me, meandering back through my life. There is a liberation in being able to let go. It also causes me to question why I allowed things to get to the level that they were at when I clocked into work every day. As a matter of fact, I now realize that technology kept me from ever clocking out of work.

I thought that I was doing a good thing by always being available. But those wonderful glasses called hindsight tell me otherwise. I could be out with my daughter and get an email from a teacher or parent. I put that email above her. I could watch a film with my wife, and a text would come in. The words, “Can you pause it a sec?” would be out before I even picked up the phone. In reality, I was saying something about where they stood without saying anything.

Not only do I not wear the watch, but I also will leave my iPhone on the charger and walk away. If I hear my phone beep or ring, I might glance at it, I might not. I may answer a call or a text, or I may let it wait. I can actually feel a little giddy in letting something go to voicemail or go unread for more than five minutes (I am a work in progress).

When I started working so many years ago (I now have the lyrics, A long time ago in Bethlehem in my head), you went to work, you worked hard and long, and then you went home. It would take something important for someone to call you at home. Even if they did, there was not much you could do from home.

One of my first cellphones was called a Juke, a very thin swivel phone. Smartphones were out. Students had them, and they laughed at my little phone. I swore that I would not be chained to a phone. How soon things changed.

Now, the office travels in your pocket or on your wrist. The barrier that used to exist about contacting people outside of work hours is gone as well. People will send an email (sometimes because they need to do it before they forget, with the expectation that you will not respond until the next workday) at all hours. A text is thought of as a quick question rather than an intrusion. However, many of us respond.

Apple Watch with the Grinch on the face

What is worse is that we then set the expectations of our colleagues or others who may be reaching out. There have been many times that I received an email late in the evening and did not see it, only to be questioned the next morning as to why I did not respond – there was no major fire or anything; it was just that people were used to my responding within minutes.

I know that many will remind me that all of this was a choice that I made. I could have shut down my computer at night; I could have turned on Do Not Disturb on my phone and watch; I could have ignored the incoming contacts. I could have, but I didn’t. I sent a message out to others that it was okay because I would respond night and day.

I get it. Tech has made our lives so much better. I cannot get rid of all of it – heck, I will be buying a new T.V. soon, and that thing will have more tech than the first rockets. Tech can be good, tech is good. But now I am seeing where it could be a hindrance.

I thought I was showing my superiors that I was dedicated. Instead, I was showing them that I could not let go. A true leader needs to be able to let go and let others step up. I removed the chance for team members to shine. Had I not felt the need always to be the one to answer, perhaps another person could have proven their skills – perhaps their answer would have been better. Did I remove the chance for others to shine because I could not put the tech down?

If I could go back in time and talk to myself when I bought my first smartphone, I would talk about everything in moderation. I would warn myself about the rabbit hole of the vibration. I would make myself see the 20/20 vision I have today.

However, as I sit here and imagine that conversation, I see a younger me listening to the words and taking in the message. Nodding my head in understanding. Then that younger person would have walked into the store and purchased that smartphone, knowing they would be better. They would not fall into the traps. They would do better.

I then sip the coffee, listen to the birds, watch the sun, and remember that that young person is now me.

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Is That All?

Posted on July 29, 2026 by Bob Martin

The title of today’s post carries a multitude of meanings for me. How often do we go through life with that question on our lips?

The first of the “Is That All” for me today is this actual blog and site. I started writing back in January of 2016. I do not remember what made me think that I had anything to say that people would want to read. Just the same, I started writing. I decided I would write what I want and not care if people read it or not (Ha! Sure—I was going to be the one human who didn’t care what other people thought). I was actually shocked when I wrote about being from a small town and the post had over 1000 views.

I intended to post a few times each week. I would wait for something to catch my attention and then let the words flow. At first, it came easily. Before long, though, writing began to feel like another obligation instead of something I loved. The posts became less frequent until they stopped altogether. I even let the menderwithbob domain name expire and lost the site. Eventually I decided to try again with a new address. This time I kept paying for the website, but the writing…well, this is my first post in almost a year. I recently pulled up the site, and asked – is that all? Something in my heart told me no.

It is when I write that I find a different kind of peace. My family brings me peace. My work has brought me peace. But writing? There is something different about watching thoughts become words on a screen.

The second of three times that this question has come up was when I retired. Not for the first time, nor the second, but for the third time. I keep saying that I am stepping away from work. I look forward to starting a new chapter in my life with my wife. We have made plans. We talk about the things that we want to do. Yet, every time I cut the strings, within a few months or weeks, I am looking for another opportunity.

For the first time in a long time, I do not have a work email attached to my phone. I am not having to get up early in the morning to log in and work through any issues that may have appeared since I logged off six hours earlier. As a teacher, I would work late into the night and get up early to do grading (English teachers are never without grading), answering emails, or planning. As a district administrator, I would answer calls and emails from teachers all evening, work on data early in the morning, and put in long hours during the day. I then moved into Director of Admin for Testing in California. I will not describe the hours, especially during COVID. When I left testing, I went back to teaching to start the cycle all over again. I am not complaining about the workload or hours – I am admitting to the fact that I am a workaholic. But now that is all over. For the last few weeks, I wake up early and move through the quiet house. I remember each day that there is no work. I sit in the silence and ask, is that all?

I think I ask the question more about identity than anything else.

For decades, when people introduced me, my name came with a title—teacher, administrator, director.

Now…

I am just Bob.

Name plate with the name Bob Martin and the title Author.

I must admit that my wife reminds me that I have stories that need to be finished. She and my daughter bought me a nameplate for my desk:

Bob Martin – Author

Perhaps I’m simply afraid to believe it.

The third time I asked, “Is that all?” came during Mass last Sunday.

Last Sunday during Mass, I heard something I needed to hear. A brick was dropped on my head.

In the readings, God said to Solomon, “Ask for something of me, and I will give it to you.” Solomon could have asked for wealth, power, or a long life.

Instead, he asked for an understanding heart. Father explained that the original Hebrew is more accurately translated as a listening heart. That phrase has stayed with me ever since.

Father Luther Dalang, a young priest visiting us during the summer, spoke to this reading in his sermon. The first thing he told us was that Solomon asked for this because “before we can possess the greatest treasure, we must first have the wisdom to recognize it.”

Father reminded us of the story he shared during his first weekend at our parish. When he arrived in Southern California, his luggage had been lost by the airline. While waiting for it to be found, he learned that the parish was collecting backpacks and school supplies for local students. Curious, he asked about the project. After hearing the explanation, he smiled and said, “I’m a student too.”

On Saturday, he and our pastor, Fr. Rolly, went to a luncheon with this same group. During his visit, he was presented with his very own backpack and supplies as he prepares to go back to his students. Fr. Luther spoke about being grateful as he looked at the gift and the supplies inside. He then confessed to us – he shared that he was human.

Purple backpack

Father mentioned that when he returned home, “like an excited child, I opened the backpack again. Then I opened each pocket, quietly looking inside, almost hoping to find some more hidden treasures, candies, chocolates, and others. Maybe a gift card…Maybe another surprise.”

He wasn’t ungrateful. In fact, he spoke about how surprised and grateful he was to be remembered. A child, I believe, asks the question not because they do not appreciate what they have received, but due to the level of excitement and happiness that they are feeling at the time — they don’t want to let go of that.

Father admitted that this is how many of us live. We receive the answer to a prayer, accomplish a goal, or reach the next milestone, and almost immediately begin looking for the next thing.

That’s me.

This question has popped up so many times in my recent life. I have forgotten to stop and be thankful for what I have. Instead of wanting the next career or job, I should be thankful that I get to have time with my family. Instead of worrying about whether or not I should keep a blog, I should just write. Instead of praying for the next great thing, I should appreciate where my life has brought me and the family, friends, and others who have been or are in my life. I need to be thankful for that.

I learned this week, like I have heard so many times before, that I should be like Solomon and ask for that listening heart. Father could have been having a conversation just with me when he said, “We spend our lives, achievement after achievement, possession after possession, always asking, ‘What else?'”

I am human. I will try to ask this question less. I will fail. I will try again. These are the words that I hope to remember the most from the sermon and all of the times that I have asked, is that all:

“Perhaps the greatest tragedy in life is not that we have too little. The greatest tragedy is that we fail to recognize the treasure already before us.”

I think I’ve spent much of my life looking for one more pocket to search—one more job, one more accomplishment, one more title, one more answer.

Maybe it’s time to stop looking for another pocket and start appreciating the backpack I’ve already been given.

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Messages in Unexpected Moments

Posted on September 7, 2025 by Bob Martin

I love how, at times, a message can hit you right in the face like a brick.

I have friends who will call this a coincidence, while others say God was the thrower of the brick.

Yesterday morning, I had a weird incident when, as I was trying to pull into a McDonald’s, a car tried to back out of the first slot in the parking lot. I stopped thinking they would back out enough to then go forward through the lot to the exit. NOPE. They backed out in front of me all the way into a four-lane road, of which they couldn’t see the oncoming traffic because my vehicle was blocking their view. I held my hand up to signal for them to stop since cars were coming. The woman in the passenger seat, my age or older, just kept telling the driver to go. After almost getting hit, they were in a spot to go forward, and the woman flipped me off.

After they were gone, I realized that her actions had made me angry. I was trying to help, and that was their reaction. It pissed me off.

Two things came from this. I realized that often the person flipping off is someone doing something wrong, and someone trying to stop them. The second is that I got angry at her, and then I got angry at myself for getting angry.

All the way home, I prayed to be able not to let the actions of others control my emotions and day. On the way to town that afternoon, a person in front of us turned left when the left turn lane had a red arrow. This is something that would normally bother both my wife and me. However, she calmly stated, “At least no one got hurt.”

During our Mass last night, as part of the sermon, the priest told us how he had two funerals that day. He was rushing back from the cemetery of the first one when he got caught up in a traffic jam. While he and the others were all sitting and waiting, a car came up on the shoulder and zipped ahead of everyone. He mentioned how he had to take a moment and stop himself from getting angry. He prayed for internal calmness.

As someone who strives to follow their faith, I cannot call this a coincidence. I was being sent a message. Others will say the universe was talking to me. Either way – message received.

Work on not allowing the actions of others to control me.

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Life is Like a Sudoku Game

Posted on April 21, 2024 by Bob Martin
Screen shot of the https://www.247sudoku.com/ daily challenge
Daily Challenge board for 247sudoku.com

If you have never played the game Sudoku, it is a puzzle that is comprised of nine rows and nine columns. The grid is split into nine even squares that are 3×3. The puzzle will start with squares filled with numbers from one to nine. To complete the puzzle, you must fill each square with a number and the grid so that each row, column, and 3×3 square has one through nine with no repeats on a given row, column, or small square. Typically, like more puzzles, one can select from easy, medium, or hard. It is this puzzle to which I am comparing life.

I often compare life and its choices to very simple things (I see what I wrote, and knowing some of my friends can hear their comments). Life can be so complicated at times, but I like to find ways to simplify it. Perhaps it comes from years of being a trainer for different jobs or being a teacher, but if I can find an easy thing for people to relate a task to – the understanding becomes greater. In the end, I have turned doing this for others internally – I do it for myself quite often. Tonight – I realized that Life is like a Sudoku game; you never know how difficult it will be until you open it and try it.

Most mornings, I am up before the sun, get the coffee perking, and sit at my desk ready for some unknown amount of work. Work consists of a long list of tasks, emails, meetings, and items not on the task list. That is just in the first five minutes. I know that my work life is no different than so many others. Reading posts on social media tells you that every job out there is more stressful than the rest, and people are tired. I agree with each of those posts and get it. Corporate America does have the attitude that you can do the same amount of work or more with fewer people.

The thing is – I thrive on the stress. The more stress there is, the more focused I can become, and I can plow through several items on my to-do list. But it is not about the stressful days for which I write. For me, the most challenging days are the “normal” days. The days when you show up to do your job with a list five miles long of tasks but little outside commotion happening. These are the days I tend to dread. I can look at the list I prepared the night before. I can rearrange the tasks and think through priorities. I can schedule items on the calendar and calculate how long each item should take. And then…I stare at my list, not knowing where to start, which one to check off first, or how to find the on button for my energy. I get stuck on these days and often stare at my monitor, hoping for inspiration.

Screen shot of the https://www.247sudoku.com/ hard puzzle
The hard level board from April 21, 2024 for 247sudoku.com

Over the last couple of years, I have found that I need to try to get my brain awake and functioning before even thinking of opening Outlook. So while taking the first sips of java, I work through Wordle, Connections, the daily crossword, and a game of Sudoku. For Sudoku, I do the daily challenge, so I do not know the level of the board until it appears. While playing this morning, it dawned on me as the dawn started to appear, just how similar solving this puzzle is to figuring out my day and working through the hours of tasks.

This morning, it occurred to me that solving the Sudoku game is similar to getting through the daily grind of work. The challenge is easy sometimes, and many squares are filled in at the start. Other days, the board appears, and you wonder who thought this one could be solved. Both types can be solved in the same manner. I always start by highlighting the nines. I look at the empty boxes for those obvious choices where only a nine can go. Sometimes, I can find options, but many times, there are too many choices for me to take down to a single choice. I also look for where the nines cannot go, and that also helps to whittle down options. Once done with the nines, onto the eights, and so on. While I am focused on a specific number, what I am doing without thought is removing options for the other numbers. If there is a row where a seven could go in three spots, but as I move through the threes and one, I take away options; the next time I am on the seven, the choice is obvious. By completing numbers further down the line, the task is easier the next time I am at the number.

Screen shot of the https://www.247sudoku.com/ easy board
The easy board from April 21, 2024 for 247sudoku.com

I look at the list of tasks as completing the Sudoku board. Some days, I can fly through the work without giving much thought. Most days, the list is comparable to a medium or hard level. I have learned that much like I start with the nines and move down, I have specific tasks, which are my starters, such as trying to clear out the inbox before even thinking of other tasks. There are days when I can enter all the nines and then there are days when I can only find one spot to fill or none. Most days, I can clear out the emails that came in overnight with quick responses or (I love these) a simple click of the delete button. On other days, the emails are filled with issues that require pulling others together or researching. Those boxes go unfilled to start.

Once the nines, or emails, are done – onto the eights. I know many tasks will be partially completed or even set aside until I have more information and fewer open spaces to fill. They will, in turn, become more manageable as I complete my other tasks.

Several people would question why work must be done like this. Why not just pick up a task and work it through – “research shows that by stopping a task and coming back to it, you need more time to regain focus on the task.” If you are a person who can do one task all the way through without stopping – I applaud you, and I am jealous of you. I am a person whose brain is constantly jumping from task to task, worrying about what needs to get done, needing to keep up with chats, and having a lot of meetings that interrupt those tasks. And let me tell you, when people know you work from home and do not have to move about for meetings, they see no problem in butting meetings one after the other with no mental break time.

For me, and I think people like me, I have found that my Sudoku approach to work is helping me become more productive. I work on a task until I can no longer find squares to put a number. I then set it aside and move on to the following “number.” Sometimes, the next task or tasks three or four spots down the line provide me with the information or insight needed when I return to the first task.

Screen shot of the https://www.247sudoku.com/ medium puzzle
The medium board from April 21, 2024 for 247sudoku.com

At the end of the Daily Challenge for the Sudoku game, the board presents your time and ranking of those who already played. Some days, I can get done in less than two minutes—other days….. not so good. Some days, I even have to guess at answers and get a 15-second penalty. Some days at work, I make an educated guess that is incorrect, causing me extra time to complete the work, but eventually, I get all the boxes filled in.

So there you have it—for me, Life is like a Sudoku game. You never know what you’re going to get until you see the board. There will come a day when I only have to use the tactics to complete a game. Until that day arrives, I hope this method will allow me to get through my life and know that life is just a game.

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Meandering in the Garden

Posted on April 10, 2024 by Bob Martin

When working, I often play music, an audible book, or some other sound to keep my mind focused. If I work in silence, I risk letting my thoughts take over, and they do meander. This past weekend, I allowed my thoughts to meander while doing a chore that required little thought—weeding.

Anyone who knows my house knows the front yard is full of cacti. A few years ago, it became my wife’s project to remove the stress of a day of teaching. No matter how much we tried to have a lush, green yard, it never worked out that way. There was always patchy grass here and there, and there were lots of bugs. So, one day, Nancy went into the yard with a shovel and started removing the grass. Some days, it was a couple of inches, and some days, an entire foot disappeared. Slowly, the yard disappeared from left to right. When she cleared enough space, a cactus was placed in the yard.

Nancy tries to keep the yard clear of weeds and looking spotless. However, of late, life got in the way. Between her working, helping with Girl Scout activities, running the city cookie cupboard, helping our daughter with school, and more – the weeds started to take over the yard. At first, I thought it was beautiful – the weeds created a soft blanket of green between the plants. The blanket grew to the point that plants were starting to disappear. This past Sunday morning, I decided to get out and start taking back the yard. Remembering my Nana’s words, I got up with the sun, donned protective clothing, and headed out. I left the music inside, and my thoughts soon started speaking to me.

Near the fence, I came across a large clump of weeds, but I knew from experience that underneath was a tiny cactus no longer visible to the passerby. I started with this corner of the yard.

Cactus covered by weeds

The plant had reached a point in its life where it was having its life choked out of it. It could not do anything about the weeds creeping slowly into its life. It sat in place as the weeds started crawling up its arms—the sharp, needle-like points did nothing to defend it. It could not cry out for help as the weeds covered it, blocking out the sun – covering it to the point that any person walking by would not even know it existed.

I worked carefully to remove the weeds. Some of them were thin vines that, when stretched out, were longer than I am tall. There were times that my cleaning would break off a branch that was withered. I hope the removal will clear the way for new growth and life. No matter how I moved around the needles, watching the ones I could see only to feel others sliding effortlessly through my gloves and into my skin. My wrists, palms, and fingertips all became a pin cushion for this plant that I was working so hard to save. It did not mean to hurt me. It knew nothing of what it was doing to my skin. Yet, when I pulled my gloves off, spots of dried blood covered my hands. Even the next day, I could feel the spots at my fingertips as I typed emails and documents. 

Eventually, the plant was free of the weeds. It could bask in the sun’s warmth. Passersby could now again see it sitting there, protecting the entrance to the yard. 

As I worked on this section, I could not help but compare the cactus to people I know—perhaps even to myself. Sometimes, people try to live their lives without understanding the problems that are quietly invading. They may even look at the issues coming at them but do not see them as such – they see them as a lush blanket that will come and protect them from the harsh cold, rain, and severe winds. They may even latch onto these issues, thinking they are not problems but things that will improve their lives. Before they can understand reality, and sometimes never understand reality, the problems have them covered – no longer being able to see the light – becoming things that others do not even recognize.

New growth and bud of a cactus

I also thought of people who allow themselves to be covered so they can hide. They enable work to take over their lives—those who try to keep their lives so busy that they have no time for themselves. The blanket of responsibilities is their cover, blocking out the world. I know that, at times, this is me.

As I worked to save the plant, I again thought about the people who crossed my mind. The plant, being unable to think, did not stab me on purpose. I stabbed myself as I moved in to help the plant. I tried to be careful, but if you have ever played in a cactus, the needles were plentiful and left no fundamental gaps to reach. Often, when a loved one tries to help one of those described above, the loved one comes out with scars if for no other reason than they tried to help. Those needing the help do not intend to harm. The wounds may be physical. The scars may be mental. Regardless, the wounds hurt. Yet, the ones trying to clear the weeds of trouble continue. They do the work as long as possible – sometimes they can remove all the weeds; other times, they get as many weeds as possible – but the needles make it impossible to clear them all. 

Cactus with weeds removed

I also found that we were too late getting out there to clear the weeds and tend to the plants. Some of the cacti were lost for good. As I picked up these plants, I thought of those I knew who also lost their battles. So many struggle with their battles, fighting not to be taken over by the world’s problems. Unfortunately, the people struggling are not gathered in a single place where they can be seen and their issues visible to all passing by. As I finished weeding, I thought about how we never know who is losing their battle and needs help. I wondered if I have been tending to the garden of my loved ones, my friends, and those in the community. I pondered how we do better to help those who cannot help themselves.

The answers are not in this writing. I do not know if we have the answers. I do know that I can reach out more often to others, check in on them, and listen to them. Perhaps if we all do that, we can save some more and keep the weeds in check.

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Angels’ Kisses

Posted on December 13, 2020 by Bob Martin

I wrote the story below on the day my daughter was born. I sat in the hospital room looking at her and these words just came out. As she is hours away from being 13, I thought I would share it.

Angels’ Kisses

Little Audrey sat on the edge of the cloud looking down towards earth.  She scrunched her eyes trying hard to see the place that she had been told about.  All she could see were clouds; plenty of clouds.

What was it that Peter had told her?  “Look for the big blue area and go slightly to the right.” He told Audrey the name of the place. It had a funny name to it; something about the sun.  She closed her eyes trying to hear his words again.  She looked down again at the big ball floating in space.  It spun around and around.  However, try as she might she could not find anything that looked like the sun down there.

She let out a long, low sigh.  Why did she have to leave this place?  Audrey liked it up here.  It was warm, peaceful and full of love.  Who would ever think of leaving here?  But Peter had approached her a few months ago.  She can remember the talk as if it happened yesterday.

“Audrey”, Peter called out quietly.

“Yes?”  She wasn’t sure who this spirit was but she had seen him many times before talking to the others that lived up here with her.  She couldn’t explain it, but whenever he walked by she could not help but feel happy. 

“Audrey, my name is Peter and I need to talk to you.  I am the special assistant of babies for God.” Audrey pulled back at this.  God sent this spirit to come talk to her? Had she done something wrong? Audrey started thinking about what she could have done that God would send somebody to talk with her.  “I have special news for you; it is time for you to be born.”

“Born?!”  Audrey cried. She was not sure what this meant but everyone who found out that they would be born, disappeared.  No one up here knew exactly where they went and everyone made up their own stories.  “Are you sure Peter?  Maybe God made a mistake.”  She froze as soon as the words left her lips. 

“God does not make mistakes” Peter quietly reminded her. Audrey could not be certain but she thought that she saw Peter look over his shoulder.  “In a few months, you will leave us and head to earth.  There you will be born and live with a mommy and daddy.” Peter could see that Audrey did not look happy.  She looked down at her cloud and pushed around the little mounds of what looked like cotton candy.

“Did I do something bad?”  Peter jumped at these words.  He was used to the little ones not being sure about the upcoming event but never had one think that God was mad at them.

“No Audrey.  God could never be mad at you.  He is sending you down to be loved.  This is a happy time for you.”  Audrey’s frown told Peter that she did not believe him.  “You will go down to earth for a little while and then come back up to join us again.  You will learn many things and do great deeds.  God has a special plan just for you.”

Audrey looked up quickly.  Her mouth fell open at these words.  God has a special plan for her?  “What does he want me to do?”

“I can’t tell you that.  That is something that you will learn over time.”  Peter patted her on the head.  “Please don’t worry.  You are being sent to a mommy and daddy that are excited about your coming.  They already love you and will care for you. You will go down in a few months.” He patted her again and walked on through the clouds calling out the next name.  Audrey stood still for a moment.  Warmth traveled down through her body from Peter’s hand.  It brought peace and calm.  Soon, however, she tried to find out more about being born.

In the few months that followed, Audrey could only find out the name of the place that she would live.  Every time Peter came into her section, she would run up with 100 questions. He finally gave in and told her how to find a place called Sunland, California.  He pointed it out many times, but every time he walked away she soon forgot where this place was.

Audrey continued to sit at the edge and look.  Peter sat down beside her.

“Forgot how to find it?”  He asked with a smile.  Audrey frowned and slowly nodded her head without moving her eyes from earth. Peter raised his hand and pointed with his finger.  A light went from his finger and traveled down to the clouds.  Slowly a small hole broke open and the light continued down to earth.  Finally, the light stopped on a house in the mountains surrounded by a small city. Audrey’s frown quickly turned into a smile.

“I’m sorry, Peter.  I keep forgetting where it is.”

“Don’t worry Audrey; you won’t have to look anymore.” She jumped at this news.

“Do you mean I don’t have to worry about being born?” Her excitement could not be hidden. Oh the joy to be able to stay here.

“No, Audrey.  I mean that it is time.  I want you to meet some angels.”  Audrey turned and two of the most beautiful angels stood on either side of Peter. The angels smiled at Audrey. “These are my best angels and they will take you down to earth.  Go with them Audrey and they will lead you safely.”  Peter bent down and wrapped his arms around her.  The warmth of his touch filled her body again. 

“Remember that we will meet again.”

The angels each took a hand and stepped off the cloud. Audrey tried to resist a little but finally stepped off the cloud.  She always feared stepping off the cloud and falling.  Instead the three of them floated by the cloud and turned around for one last look and a wave from Peter.

Audrey and the angels quickly flew towards earth.  They did not go to the house that she had seen so many times but to a tall building close by.

“This is where you will be born.  You will live here for a little while and then go to the house.” The angel on the left parted the last of the clouds.  As they came close to the building, the angels stopped.  “We will leave you now.”  Each angel kissed Audrey on her right eyelid.  Two small marks remained from the kisses.  “You will be safe.  God bless.”

The angels let go and left Audrey floating above a room filled with people.  She watched the angels disappear through the ceiling.  She stayed for a moment.  Audrey wanted to follow the angels.   She took a step towards the ceiling but felt a tug around her waist.  Before she could question what was happening, her eyes were filled with a bright light and something caused her to take in a deep breath. “What’s happening?”  Audrey screamed.  But the people in the room only looked at her and smiled.  She tried again but now they started laughing and a couple had tears in their eyes.  “What’s wrong with you, answer me!”  Nobody listened to her.

She felt herself being carried to a table.  It was cold out here.  They placed her on a hard surface, but she could feel heat from above.  A person with a mask bent over her and she saw a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Look at the marks on her eye.  It looks like somebody kissed her before she was born.” Everyone in the room said “Aw”. So began Audrey’s life here on earth.

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You want to help?

Posted on October 4, 2020 by Bob Martin

It has been a while since I have had time to write for fun. This is one story of two which has been coming back into my mind. They really don’t have any lesson to teach except, perhaps, that sometimes it is fun to look back at events in your life and have a laugh.

This first story started during my last time in Monterey and completed while in England. I was stationed with a friend who, along with his wife, was a flight instructor. Many times, during our discussions, he would often try to convince me to take up flying as a hobby. Since I was single and with few responsibilities, I decided to take him up on his offer. I tested out of ground school and soon took the air.

I started looking forward to the weekends for my time in the air. Though I was a flyer in the Air Force, my job was not in the cockpit. There is something so cool about flying when the yoke is in your hands. We flew out of Watsonville, a small airport with little more than a runway and some taxi ways. The airport was uncontrolled which means that the pilots talk to each other and work together to avoid incidences. I loved flying there and going out over the ocean. While I managed to get my first solo done, the rest of my training would have to take place when I went back home to England.

In East Anglia, we had two bases that had runways and towers. The aeroclub flew out of the base that housed the fighters. I thought flying in a little airport was fun, but it held nothing to flying in and out of the base. Knowing that you had F-16s waiting behind you to take-off was both funny and nerve wracking. They had to wait for the small, slow plane to get to a certain point for them to take off. It was also interesting to be told to leave the pattern due to an F-16 declaring an IFE (in-flight emergency) only to find out later that apparently, they would call these when they really had to use the bathroom (I never got proof of that).

One day while puttering around the pattern, the control tower asked to go play at the other airfield a few miles away. Some exercise or something was going on, and they wanted to keep the pattern open for the fighters. So, we went full throttle over to the other base. We were working on full stops and take offs. We would land, stop on the runway, reset the flaps for take-off, and full speed ahead for another go.

This was the first time for me at this base. This base was where the larger aircraft lived and were worked on. I did the first landing, cleaned up the aircraft (resetting the flaps), and took off. I noticed that the wind played with the plane as I moved down the runway. My instructor told me that that was normal for this base.

We went around in the pattern and came in for a full-stop. I called the control tower requesting permission for take-off. The tower came back with the permission and when it came to information, and I will never forget this, I received, “The winds are…the winds are…the winds are variable.” I looked at my instructor who waved his hand forward. I went full throttle and started down the runway.

I could feel the plane being pushed one way and then another. I felt my hands tighten on the yoke. I reached the speed to pull back and lift the front of the plane. Up we started to go. The winds changed again, and the nose went down, I pulled up. The changed again and now my nose was too high (I feared a stall). I kept correcting and they kept changing.

As we kept ascending and adjusting, I get a call from the tower, “Ahhh N972 (not sure of the callsign anymore) do you require assistance?” By this time, we are already 400 feet and climbing. I looked at my instructor and yelled, “Assistance???? What the hell are they going to do, get a ladder and climb up here?”

My instructor calmly clicked the mic and replied, “No. We are fine.” We decided it was time to leave the pattern and take a nice quiet flight. Once out of the pattern, I asked my instructor why he didn’t help. He told me that it was my plane, and that I was doing fine.

Unfortunately, due to being color deficient, I was not allowed to fly at night. Living in England in the winter meant that flying was really cut down to a few hours of the day. I decided I had other things to do with my money and never finished my license.

While I will most likely never be in control of a plane again, I will never forget having someone offer to help me when I was in the air. On a side note, I found out a couple of months later, that my friend was the safety office in the tower that day. He told me he had his hand on the crash button during my take-off.

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A Nana Can Get You Through This

Posted on May 18, 2020 by Bob Martin
Nana with her dog

We are now in our 9th or 10th week of staying at home. Up until now, I felt pretty good about getting through this time. I am upfront and honest by saying that I am lucky to be still working full time from home. I started working from home back in October, so this wasn’t all that big of a change for me. It just meant my not having to go to the office for two days a week. Add to this that I am an introvert to the highest degree, and I am fine with staying at home.

I have read my share of social media during this time and seen posts of people having a hard time with the separation from their normal life. I had empathy for the posts and worried about my friends who loved being out there in the world – being social.

Today was different for me. It hit me like a brick wall! I had no focus. I opened files to work only to see words on the screen. I called in to meetings that, fortunately, I was more an observer than an active participant for my concentration was elsewhere. Perhaps the fact that it rained most of the morning and early afternoon did not help. There are times that I believe the character Doug (the dog) from the movie UP was based on me and my attention span – squirrel.

I am now at the end of the day, and I am now thinking about how I now have twice the amount of work to complete tomorrow. I worked late (for I did finally start getting my concentration back), but tomorrow will be an early start with a late finish. That’s okay. I know my responsibilities and take them on. However, tomorrow, I will have a partner by my side. The same partner who I called upon this evening to help me, and the same partner who has gotten me through up until today.

I grew up with a little, Polish Nana. Though she has been gone now for 31 years, she is still with me every day. Now if you were not fortunate to have a little, Polish Nana (or a grandmother of any decent), then I am sorry. Nana was born in 1915, the first child of her family to be born in the United States. She grew up with as part of an immigrant family during the twenties with her older sister still with the family back in Poland. She was part of the “Greatest Generation.” She lived through the depression and WWII. She and her husband worked hard to make a life for their two daughters. She worked a regular job and helped with the family bar. I can remember many a Saturday walking from Church School to the family place where she was busy in the kitchen making soups and other food.

Nana tried as hard as she could to give me the work ethic that she had. When I was 11, we moved into her house, my parents, three brothers, and me. We found out quickly that her house was meant to be neat and clean. She expected us to do our part in the house. She taught me to cook, take care of laundry, and other household chores. The thing I remember most is summer break – the time every kid looks forward to being able to sleep late – not with Nana. Summer mornings found her waking us up to get the work done. She always told us that we need to get up and get out and get the work done. We had a large vegetable garden that needed weeding and a lawn to keep mowed. We were expected to rise and get going. As a pre-teen and then teen, I thought that she was tough. She told us that getting the work done early meant not being out there when the sun was overhead and beating down. She told us that by not laying in bed, we could complete the work and then be done. This harping seemed the worse on those days when things didn’t seem to be going right. Days you just wanted to stay in bed. Days that you just didn’t care. Nana, however, said you still must get up and get going.

It was hard to complain when you knew the hard life her sister had growing up in Poland. Also, the difficulties our relatives were still going through in the late 70s and early 80s while still under the rule of the USSR. Whether I realized it or not, she was preparing me. She taught me what I needed to be an adult. She taught me what I needed to be a teacher. She taught me to be a parent.

The other part about Nana is that she wasn’t just this tough, little drill sergeant. She was a doer right until the end. She was out in the yard working, cleaning the house, helping neighbors, or cooking right along with us. For she taught us that to really get the job done, it took teamwork. She was a leader that did as well as lead. In the end, she also knew how to have fun with us when the jobs were done (picture a 60+ year old woman riding a bike through the lawn and using the boy-built ramp to launch herself).

So, what does all that have to do with today. As I mentioned today was a tough day and the brick wall appeared to be in front of me, to the sides, and behind me. I understood those posts that my friends had been posting. I understood the memes that said it is okay not to learn a new language or instrument, or deep clean the house. Today all that made sense. Funny thing is – it really pissed me off. I was allowing the happenings around me to infiltrate me and my abilities. Then I thought of Nana.

I could picture my Nana standing there saying, get up, get to work, get it done. Remember what I taught you and you will get through this. Start with one job, one task, and complete it. Then start the next one. Before you know it, the garden will be weeded, or the file will be completed. It doesn’t matter the task – it just matters that you take the first steps and then keep moving forward.

I said at the start that I am lucky due to still working full time. I am also lucky that I know that tomorrow is another day, and I can start again.

Now I sit and worry about the people who will still struggle. There are people battling with depression, anxiety, or other issues which will not make it so easy for them to take those first steps, or to continue stepping. That brick wall will remain in front of them no matter what. For them, just making it through the day is an accomplishment. That’s ok. If that is what it takes to keep moving forward than that is enough.

So, to everyone, I share my Nana. Imagine this little, 4-foot, Polish, whirlwind coming in and waking you up. Let her tell you to take the first steps. Let her be by your side. If it is not enough to have Nana by your side, then I offer the next best thing. If you have hit the wall, if you are struggling with how to get through the day, if you just need someone – reach out. Reach out to family, friends, or me.

We can help each other through this.

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Covid Divide

Posted on May 4, 2020 by Bob Martin
American flag in a toilet paper roll

Tonight, I wanted to write about the gap that as really been brought, once again, to the forefront of our country. In the last six to eight weeks, our country went from low unemployment and a “booming” economy to high unemployment numbers and a struggling economy. I put the word booming in quotation marks since there are now questions as to how strong it was – I am not an economist, so I cannot answer that question.

I wanted to put out there about how over the last month or so, we really get an idea as to the divide between those struggling and those who do not. I know that this divide is far from new. It has been a struggle in society since the start of civilization over 6000 years ago. The poor of society are mentioned time and time again in the Bible. Jesus even calls out, “You will always have the poor among you…” (John 12:8 NIV). So why does this stick out for me now, and we do I hesitate to write about this divide.

During this time, there are so many families who are struggling. Men and women from all walks of life woke up a few weeks ago ready to go to work only to find a country shutting down. Jobs started disappearing overnight. Companies started closing doors. Employees and employer went from having a paycheck to having nothing in a matter of a few weeks. Parents, even if they could go out and find a new job, found themselves unable to since children were now also having to stay home. There was no school, no childcare, and no babysitters. Everyone was supposed to limit contact outside of the household. Savings accounts, if there were any, started to dwindle so that bills could be paid, food could be purchased, and mortgages or rents were taken care of to keep a roof over the family.

School children even showed up within the divide. School districts sent out surveys to determine just how much work could continue through the use of technology. Instead, they found out just how many families had no means to work in this new manner. Packets had to be created and distributed, and students had to work at home through new work with little or no contact with teachers. Other children, while having their own struggles, found that they could meet with teachers and peers, learn new material, and attempt to continue their studies due to having the means at home.

Add to all this the fact that schools became a source of food for many families. Lunchrooms started churning out meals and putting them into brown sacks for families to do a drive-by pick up. While some families had to wait until toilet paper, cleaning products, and meat became available – but had ample had home, others had to use the school system or food banks just to get by.

This is 2020. While a situation like Covid-19 will cause hardships for many people, the hardships should be short lived. The problem is, for many who are struggle right now, the struggle was there before this pandemic and it will continue long after.

I started off saying how I wanted to write about this, but there is a fear to writing about such a topic because people will immediately make it a political argument. Instead of taking time to look at the problems, people will want to blame the other side for the divide. To make matters worse, I am breaking my own rule that I had for my students. If you bring a problem, try to bring some suggestions for the solution. Unfortunately, I do not have those answers or suggestions. I am not versed enough in how to resolve the issues of helping some while not punishing others. I cannot solve this problem. My hopes are that by enough people discussing the problems, the people who do have the knowledge will guide this country into resolving it.

I know that there will always be levels to wealth. There is no way that every person can be on a level playing field when it comes to this area. We will always the two ends of the spectrum and every level in-between. I guess what I am trying to figure out is if the end of the spectrum representing poverty needs to be so big and if those living there need to suffer so much.

I worried about this topic because I do not want to see arguments stating that it is the fault of those who struggle. They didn’t study hard enough. They do not spend their money wisely. They should have chosen better jobs. They should have gone to college. They should have…

Yes. I have met some people who made bad choices with their lives and money. However, I believe the percentage of those people are minimal when compared to all of those who struggle. The people who struggle find their struggles come from many factors outside of their control – their race, ethnicity, gender, where they were born (even inside the U.S.), looks, and other factors, or combination, can have an effect on how well a person does in this country. I have seen the hardest working people sweat day and night to try to get ahead and still only just manage to keep it together one month at a time. I have seen all the different positive sayings about what success is. Yet never, have I seen one that says, “Sometimes success is just being born in the right place, at the right time.” Sometimes, a person who has any or many of the above factors listed above can success and climb the ladder, but that is one while many are still at the bottom of the ladder.

I have also seen the arguments on the other side that says it is easy. We need to tax or take money from those who have made it to help those who haven’t. However, this argument doesn’t hold up. Our country is based upon a mostly capitalistic society. While we do have programs in place to help people, the foundation of our economy is that of capitalism. It is this foundation that has caused our country to grow and to create. It is this type of economy that has become the “American Dream” where anyone can succeed and gain in wealth and standing. I have heard very few people state that they want to earn lots of money so they can give it back to the government. Through my readings, it is this ability to gain and keep wealth that drives many people. People from all walks of life who have earned wealth do not want to part from it.

Any time this subject is broached, arguments from both sides start flying. What we should be doing during this time is taking a moment to start fixing issues. We see daily stories of how the planet is repairing itself during this down time, why can’t we start to fix ourselves. We need to call upon our representatives, to step across the aisle and start working together. They should be calling upon the experts in economics and other fields to lead and come up with solutions.

While there will always be two ends to a spectrum. Perhaps if our leaders work together with the people who can fix this, the difference won’t be as great of a distance. We don’t need to make millions of Rockefellers, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a lot less … I can’t come up with a name.

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