November 30: Born Lucky, Update on my Son, Alternative

Santiago gets a little blissed out . . . 

He did not truly feel good because the pain from the cord across his back had almost passed pain and gone into a dullness that he mistrusted. But I have had worse things than that, he thought. My hand is only cut a little and the cramp is gone from the other. My legs are all right. Also now I have gained on him in the question of sustenance.

It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars were out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends.

"The fish is my friend too," he said aloud. "I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars."

Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought.

There's a lot of beauty in this passage.  Santiago and all his distant friends.  Hemingway isn't known primarily for lyricism in his writing.  Yet, I find his spare sentences contain moments of the sublime.  This is one of them.

I haven't provided an update on my son recently.  As most of my faithful disciples know, my son has always struggled in/with school.  Especially the last few years.  Each time the school called me, I knew it would be bad news.  My last contact with his former school was a message from the superintendent on the last day of eighth grade, informing me that my son was going to be starting his freshman year of high school with a ten-day, in-school suspension.

Well, my wife and I decided to change things.  Our son did not start ninth grade in detention.  Instead, he's now attending the alternative high school in a new district.  And he loves it.  Instead of battling to get him out of bed in the morning, he actually looks forward to going to school.  He has new friends who seem really to appreciate him and help him navigate social situations.  He is taking an advanced math class with mostly juniors and seniors because he tested so high at the beginning of the year, and he currently has the highest grade percentage in the entire class (in the 99th percentile).  This morning, he asked if he could purchase a poem from me as part of my Gift of Poetry fundraiser for the U. P. Poet Laureate Foundation.  He wants to give it to one of his best friends at school.

And, he received all A's on his report card.  He has never received all A's in his entire life.

My son has found his place.  He fits in.  Finally, after nine years in the educational system, my son loves school.

I feel like Santiago in his boat, gazing up at all my distant friends in the heavens, feeling happy for my son.  Secure in my decision.  

That's Saint Marty's blessing for this evening.