Perspective

The other day I was able to skip out of work early. I had to run home to get things ready for Kristie’s brother, wife, and kids who were up from Colorado for Theola’s funeral.

Usually I leave school around 4:30 or so. But today I snuck out the door just after three. Usually the ride home is a blur as I weave in and out of traffic, rethink the day, fight off the yawns, and unwind with my “Drive Home” CD.

But the other day was different. As I headed south of 32, I was stuck behind a semi stuck behind a school bus. This would have normally enraged me, but for some reason I thoroughly enjoyed it. The world looks differently at 15 mph than it does at 65 mph.

I was amazed at all that I hadn’t noticed. And one thing I like to do on my ways to and from work is to try and notice at least one thing new that I hadn’t noticed before - a new home among the trees, a new cloud formation, a new set of skid marks along the road, a new cluster of cotton woods.

Trudging along at 15 mph, which is like standing still on the highway, I found myself noticing so many new things that I lost count.

First, I noticed the way kids absolutely trusted traffic to stop for them. They bolted around the bus without so much as a glance either way. Was I ever so brave? The only thing close to this that I’ve witnessed was when Matt, a former student of mine who also happened to be legally blind, was walking home. As I pulled away from the school and turned onto highway 32, I saw Matt stopped at the intersection leading to his home. He paused, held his cane out in front of him, and boldly strode across the intersection. I couldn’t believe it. Either his hearing is very acute or he simply has incredible faith.

Next, I noticed how the kids’ energy soon waned as they sprinted down their driveways. Since we were in the country, many of their driveways were quite long - up to half a mile. It was well below zero. Once they sprinted across the road and a few yards down their driveway, they halted - the breath coming out in great clouds of vapor and then being whisked upward by the wind. As traffic began moving again, I watched them march toward home - some stopping to twirl their backpacks into the air, others to play with their dogs, and yet others to throw rocks or snowballs. In 30 minutes I’d pull my car into the garage and hurry the mere feet to the house. But not these kids.

That got me to thinking. Was I ever really cold as a kid? Winter seemed to last for most of the year, yet I remember spending most of my time outside either sledding down the hill across the street or playing hockey in the street itself. I must have gotten cold, but that must have paled in comparison to another trip down on my sled or trying to score another goal.

At the next stop I noticed maybe the most remarkable thing of all: a great wooden bridge connecting two tree houses. It swayed just so in the breeze as it covered the 10 or 15 feet between trees. What an idea! Now those kids have a world class tree house!

Unfortunately, and believe me it was unfortunate, the bus turned off 32 and I resumed my breakneck pace back home.

But this taught me a lesson. Yes, I have to slow down. That’s obvious. But it also showed me the power of perspective - like old Mr. Kreating (played by Robin Williams) from “Dead Poets Society” urging his pupils to stand atop their desks to look at things differently.


This - for whatever reason - lead to me my Dad. Sitting behind the semi, I recalled how differently the world looked from Dad’s cab when he took me on one of his runs. Even though I wasn’t driving the semi, I felt powerful perched above all other traffic with all that power in front of us and all that momentum hurling behind us. No wonder when Dad wasn’t driving the truck he always liked to poke along at 50 mph tops. After hurling across the country to get his truckload delivered on deadline, he obviously like the perspective of meandering through life in his own vehicle.