Missed It

February 9, 2007. We sat in a smoky hookah bar in Istanbul, pulling away on flavored tobacco and chatting the night away. Surrounded by Islamic tradition, we didn't dare crack a beer or open a bottle of wine. There wasn't a pub in sight. It was just four good friends, strong sheesha, and great conversation.

At some point one of us had a great idea. Conor pulled out an old metro pass and wrote down the exact date and American time at that moment. Below that he wrote "Drunk." Then we took a picture.

The plan was that one year from that exact time, and then every year following, we would stop whatever we were doing and drink to honor that moment in our lives. I think we even pulled it off the next year in Spokane. But after graduation, we went our separate ways and forgot all about the obligation we had set in stone on February 9, 2007.

For whatever reason, I remembered "The Obligation" today. I didn't remember the exact date, but I knew it was sometime around now. So I went back and checked, and to my disappointment, I discovered that I had missed it by four days. It's not like I would have been able to follow through with it even if I had known it was coming, but I still found myself wishing that I hadn't forgotten.

Let us never forget how much pure life we experienced in that splendid year. This one's for you guys.

Hanging Back

After basketball practice on Friday I found myself sitting on the shady part of the courts with some of the other coaches. We just sat around and talked story for at least an hour, until the sun began to set and we had no choice but to pick up our tired legs and head home. As we sat there we talked about all things teaching-related that really irked us- the long hours, difficult parents, troubled students, and the other thankless aspects of the job.

"I don't know how you can do it for another year," one of the other coaches said. I nodded my head in agreement. Beats me, I thought.

Every once in a while, you get a reminder.

There's one moment during basketball practice last week that I'll never forget. We had recently added a new player to our team at midseason. During his IEP meeting, his mom said that basketball had been good for him in the past, even though he had some deficiencies with his cognitive and motor skills. It was definitely a challenge to integrate him into our practices. I led the team on a jog across the street to the gym, and I forgot about him along the way. As the kids shuffled into the gym, our new player was nowhere to be seen. But then he came hustling in, accompanied by Killian, our star forward. Like a big brother, Killian had hung back to make sure that his new teammate reached the gym safely.

Killian could go on to lead the team in rebounds, scoring, and blocks this season, but in my eyes, nothing could surpass that moment right there. He probably could have outrun everyone that day, but he chose to hang back and help someone instead.