A wonderful writer is having a book launch party Thursday, June 27 @collective615, in Nashville. Wish I was closer! I would love to support Claire Coenen. The title of the book The Beautiful Keeps Breathing.
I enjoy your writings and the way you go about living. Have a great summer with your son. 🌸💕🌸💕🌸
Your dad was my English teacher at Jackson High School during the 1960s when we moved there for a couple of years in relation to my father’s career.
Like your Father’s Day post, I found him to be a very gentle and present person. He really was able to teach me eighth grade grammar. I pulled out my report cards several years ago and confirmed, as I had thought, that from the time of my being in his class, my English grades were always in the high 90s – 98’s and 99’s. After Mr. Moorer, I was a confident and competent essayist, making the writing required in college all the way up to my doctorate in clinical psychology at the age of 24, and then writing under pseudonyms, a pleasure and a calling, rather than the forced march that elegantly putting words to paper is for most people.
There was something both about him, dressed somewhat formally in a white shirt and tie, but at times also sporting a cardigan sweater, and the way that he taught, that I loved. When I put my yearbook on his desk, he went to the faculty section and wrote something very nice under his picture, signing his name as Franklin Moorer, my not realizing at the time that he, like I, went by his middle name.
Everything about him I really thought was wonderful, although as you, with just the right touch, kindly and lovingly described, other aspects of your father also simmered within his soul – or maybe not actually within his soul since I am sure that it was perfect – but within his mind where perhaps a mistaken identity had taken up residence, giving rise to battles, challenges and sorrows for which he was ultimately ill-prepared to meet.
In any event, what I would call your compassionate tribute to him is a sweet reminder that, though we may at times forget, as Ram Dass said, “We are all just walking each other home…”
Love ... so many things in your list... thank you
A wonderful writer is having a book launch party Thursday, June 27 @collective615, in Nashville. Wish I was closer! I would love to support Claire Coenen. The title of the book The Beautiful Keeps Breathing.
I enjoy your writings and the way you go about living. Have a great summer with your son. 🌸💕🌸💕🌸
I always wonder about the other shoe!
Your dad was my English teacher at Jackson High School during the 1960s when we moved there for a couple of years in relation to my father’s career.
Like your Father’s Day post, I found him to be a very gentle and present person. He really was able to teach me eighth grade grammar. I pulled out my report cards several years ago and confirmed, as I had thought, that from the time of my being in his class, my English grades were always in the high 90s – 98’s and 99’s. After Mr. Moorer, I was a confident and competent essayist, making the writing required in college all the way up to my doctorate in clinical psychology at the age of 24, and then writing under pseudonyms, a pleasure and a calling, rather than the forced march that elegantly putting words to paper is for most people.
There was something both about him, dressed somewhat formally in a white shirt and tie, but at times also sporting a cardigan sweater, and the way that he taught, that I loved. When I put my yearbook on his desk, he went to the faculty section and wrote something very nice under his picture, signing his name as Franklin Moorer, my not realizing at the time that he, like I, went by his middle name.
Everything about him I really thought was wonderful, although as you, with just the right touch, kindly and lovingly described, other aspects of your father also simmered within his soul – or maybe not actually within his soul since I am sure that it was perfect – but within his mind where perhaps a mistaken identity had taken up residence, giving rise to battles, challenges and sorrows for which he was ultimately ill-prepared to meet.
In any event, what I would call your compassionate tribute to him is a sweet reminder that, though we may at times forget, as Ram Dass said, “We are all just walking each other home…”