Everything is going to be ok... by Scott Johnson

Scott Johnson wrote this  years ago, when he retired from teaching. He's never really retired, you understand--people still learn from him all the time. A lot of teachers are like that, aren't they? They just kind of walk around with an invisible classroom. He said I could use this, so here it is, the Window's occasional gift to graduates, compliments of Scott Johnson, renaissance man extraordinaire. I used this one a few years ago and am pleased to  use it again. Congratulations, Class of 2024. We are so proud of you. Go forth and be smart and funny and all the other things your parents and grandparents have always known you were. 

I have been sitting here in front of this blank screen for quite a while now. It's a nice evening so I don't really mind, but I have been trying to find some way of telling you all just what I have learned about life since my career began. I thought I would be able to sum it all up in one grand and deep sentence but my mind is clouded with memories and so I can't really see that clearly now.  

There are lots of little lessons that I would like to share and you can choose to think about them if you wish but I have long ago given up the idea that I could influence people to do what they really don't want to do. Ignore all this nonsense if you want to.

I learned that with us humans, we have to strive to give another person what they need rather than simply giving to them what we want them to need.

I learned that most of the time when fights and arguments happen, they have very little to do with what injury someone else has done to us, but rather what injury our own self esteem has done to us.

I learned that at one time or another, everyone needs to be told that everything is going to be ok.

I learned that we have to do what makes us happy and be who makes us happy because human nature cannot be fooled.

I learned that being kind to others without expecting anything in return is the best way to make ourselves complete.

I learned that some rules must to be broken but others should never be.

I learned that imagination is the most important thing to be nurtured.

I learned that reading and thinking are skills and like any skills, need to be practiced.

I learned that taking on challenges that other people provide but never challenging yourself has no worth.

I learned that we all have the power to make those around us feel good about who they are and this is the most powerful thing in the world. This power should never be withheld and the opposite of this...making those around us feel bad about who they are...should never be used.

I learned that when you have to correct a person, always let them save face by laughing with them immediately after.

I learned that karma is a real thing.  

I could probably write down lots more of these little lessons but these will do for now. When I look over this list, I find there I have failed to quote one single educational standard that might appear on a standardized test sometime. I guess this is why it is time for me to go.

I am going to borrow a line from a song that I heard today to finish this off.

Never give up

Never slow down

Never grow old

Never ever die young. 

Thank you all for everything you have done. I am sorry for many things. I will miss you and I will always be there to tell you...everything is going to be ok. -  Johnson

***

Thanks once again to Scott, for his heart and his words. Have a great week. Hold someone tight. Be nice to somebody.

Go with All Your Heart by Scott Johnson

Scott Johnson wrote this eight years ago, when he retired from teaching. He's never really retired, you understand--people still learn from him all the time. A lot of teachers are like that, aren't they? They just kind of walk around with an invisible classroom. He said I could use this, so here it is, the Window's almost-annual gift to graduates, compliments of Scott Johnson, owner of Black Dog Coffee and renaissance man extraordinaire. Congratulations, Class of 2021. We are so proud of you. Go forth and be smart and funny and all the other things your parents and grandparents have always known you were. 

I have been sitting here in front of this blank screen for quite a while now. It's a nice evening so I don't really mind, but I have been trying to find some way of telling you all just what I have learned about life since my career began. I thought I would be able to sum it all up in one grand and deep sentence but my mind is clouded with memories and so I can't really see that clearly now.  

There are lots of little lessons that I would like to share and you can choose to think about them if you wish but I have long ago given up the idea that I could influence people to do what they really don't want to do. Ignore all this nonsense if you want to.

I learned that with us humans, we have to strive to give another person what they need rather than simply giving to them what we want them to need.

I learned that most of the time when fights and arguments happen, they have very little to do with what injury someone else has done to us, but rather what injury our own self esteem has done to us.

I learned that at one time or another, everyone needs to be told that everything is going to be ok.

I learned that we have to do what makes us happy and be who makes us happy because human nature cannot be fooled.

I learned that being kind to others without expecting anything in return is the best way to make ourselves complete.

I learned that some rules must to be broken but others should never be.

I learned that imagination is the most important thing to be nurtured.

I learned that reading and thinking are skills and like any skills, need to be practiced.

I learned that taking on challenges that other people provide but never challenging yourself has no worth.

I learned that we all have the power to make those around us feel good about who they are and this is the most powerful thing in the world. This power should never be withheld and the opposite of this...making those around us feel bad about who they are...should never be used.

I learned that when you have to correct a person, always let them save face by laughing with them immediately after.

I learned that karma is a real thing.  

I could probably write down lots more of these little lessons but these will do for now. When I look over this list, I find there I have failed to quote one single educational standard that might appear on a standardized test sometime. I guess this is why it is time for me to go.

I am going to borrow a line from a song that I heard today to finish this off.

Never give up

Never slow down

Never grow old

Never ever die young. 

Thank you all for everything you have done. I am sorry for many things. I will miss you and I will always be there to tell you...everything is going to be ok. -  Johnson

Have a great week. Hold someone tight. Be nice to somebody.

Time to Get Off the Tilt-A-Whirl by Scott Johnson

Photo by Taylor Lentz

Scott Johnson is probably the closest thing to a renaissance man I've ever known. He owns the Black Dog Coffee Shop and Legacy Outfitters in Logansport, Indiana, and is so generous to the arts community that none of us have ever figured out a good way to thank him. He hosts musicians and writers, provides a venue for classes, and--although he's ostensibly retired from teaching--teaches someone something every day. The Black Dog Writers is home to some of the best writing voices around--including his. 

Logansport, like every other small town around, needs money. Needs jobs. Needs industry. One such industry, WSP may be coming there. Or not. There are many articles about it, including the one linked here.

This is Scott's take on it. I like it a lot. I don't live in Logansport, or work there anymore, so I don't have a dog in the race, but if I did...well, I'm with Scott.

The whole WSP thing that is simmering in the background of this pandemic is a mess. I went back and read all of their social media posts…once. (I read them all as they were released but today I went back and read them consecutively…anyway) To produce a coherent argument and dissect each of these posts would take more energy than I have to give. I could hardly get through a paragraph without a feeling a bit ill from the constant spin. I rode the “Tilt-A-Whirl” once or twice as a kid…hated it every time…this situation calls up my memories of that experience…dizzy, a bit queasy, a little disoriented and each time I had to ask myself the question…why the hell did I buy a ticket to make myself feel like shit? It made no sense to me…pay money to make myself sick? No thank you.

Do I want a better, cleaner environment for our community? Yes, yes I do. I want our rivers to be what our community is known for… I always felt that we didn’t put near enough energy into capitalizing on our unique river dominated landscape. Do I want a higher quality of life in our community? Yes, yes I do. I want our community to be known for the artists and artisans who live among us. I want our community to be known for its music, and its diverse culture. I want our new restaurants to thrive…I want our new hotels to thrive…I want our schools to thrive and succeed….i want our children to know that the world is a place full of opportunity and I want our community to become a destination...yes a destination. A place where people want to come…a place that is welcoming, and interesting, and inspiring. When people visit us, I want them to leave thinking about when they might be able to come back. I want to leave people feeling better about the world then before we made their acquaintance.

Do I know about mercury and lead and zinc and other heavy metals? Do I know how it all impacts human health? Do I know how hard it is to clean up a polluted environment? Do I know what it takes to work safely…”sustainably” around this stuff? And more importantly do I know about environmental reporting and regulatory requirements? Do I know that environmental regulations can be changed in the future, loosened, lowered depending on political clout and with a simple stroke of a pen? Yes, I know a bit. Probably not much more than anyone else…but I know a bit.

I also know that we need good jobs in our community…and I know that we need to live in the modern world and this modern world comes with some pretty nasty stuff. Stuff like heavy metals…stuff like chemical emissions. I want it all I guess. What I really want is a modern world that does not rely on the fact that we have to pollute to progress…I want a world where we do not have to use the word “sustainable” in our corporate names to make people feel better about having them as neighbors.

Perhaps I am a dreamer. Perhaps I am. That is fine with me. Until we imagine a better world, a different path, we will never even recognize the opportunity to change course. Let us all imagine. And then let us all take action.

I don’t like to be spun around. I don’t want to pay to feel worse. Wisdom is composed of insight and intuition…the gut feeling. My gut is a little unsettled by a flawed process…and a flawed message. Now, I am stepping off the carnival ride...and going to find a good lemon shakeup.

The best of things... Liz Flaherty

When I can't think of things to write about--or, more likely, when I'm in danger of writing about the same things too often--I make lists. My favorite this or that or the other. Since I've complained fairly incessantly about the last couple of years, which haven't been my favorite anything, I thought I'd make a list of things about 2018 that were good things. Happy things. I'd love it if you'd offer up some things in the comments, too.

1. Best movie. I don't watch all that many, but I loved Mary Poppins Returns. The cast was so wonderful I don't know how they got so much goodness onto one screen. Seeing Dick Van Dyke dance and Angela Lansbury sing would have had me in tears if I hadn't been smiling so hard.

2. Best time. Thanksgiving weekend, when most of our immediate family was in one place. I remember when our oldest was born, thinking I'd never again be able to love anyone like I did that little baby, but then finding out with his sister and brother how love just grows and multiplies and gets stronger because it's braided instead of single-strand. There are a lot of braids when family gets together.

3. Best bittersweet moment. At my brother's funeral, when one of his best friends related a certain streaking story that relieved and delighted everyone who was there. Thank you, Jim Conley. There was much light offered by friends on that sad day, but yours was the brightest.

4. Best play. Ole Olsen Memorial Theatre, under the direction of Jayne Kesler, presented The Diary of Anne Frank. Kurt Schindler, who's been making me laugh since the day I met him, made me cry. Carsten Loe as Anne was...I don't have the words for how good she was. Sarah Luginbill's magic turned Ole's small stage into an attic so convincing you forgot it had ever been anything else.

5. Best song. When Duane sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

6. Best new place. There are many contenders for this--you only have to look at the buildings in downtown Peru--but Black Dog Coffee in Logansport is my favorite. Scott Johnson has done as much for art and artists of all media as anyone I've ever known, and he's still doing it.

7. Best TV show. Murphy Brown. It's not for everyone, I know, but it is perfect for me. No, better yet, it's less than perfect. Its characters are flawed and so are its stories.

8. Best book. Too many to choose from. My friend Nan Reinhardt's A Small Town Christmas is right up there. So are 2018 releases by Kathleen Gilles Seidel, Laura Drake, Mary Balogh...

9. Best day. Today.

So, Happy New Year. I hope you share your bests--or worsts. Mostly, I hope 2019 is wonderful.

Wilder Today than Yesterday - @Scott Johnson

Scott Johnson's back with us this week. Just as Duane and I make ourselves at home at the Black Dog Coffee House, I like that Scott fits right in here at the Window, too. I love--and maybe envy a little--his adventures and today, I particularly love his and John Prine's insights. - Liz

I have seen many rivers in my life. I once swam all the way across the Ohio just to say I had done it. I have fallen into mountain streams as cold as ice water and have waded in plenty of muddy creeks looking for crawdads and snakes and little fish and even bones of bison eroding from the bank. I love the feeling of flowing water. I have read the stories of Twain’s adventures on the Mississippi and followed Lewis and Clark up the Missouri. I have fished the Yellowstone and the Big Horn, and made camp along the banks of the Rio Grande. I have seen the power of flood waters and the despair of rivers that once flowed but are now dry. I have heard the stories of how rivers that were so polluted would catch on fire and in the high mountains I have quenched my thirst from still pools. I have canoed, rowed, motored, kayaked and tubed down many. Most of us have stories born from rivers and creeks and other bodies of water. Water is universal, and whether it is fresh or salty, humans have always been drawn to it.

The Eel River in Logansport, IN

We have two rivers flowing through our town. Most of the time we cross them without a thought but this morning, I slowed and nearly stopped crossing the Eel and just looked for a moment. I rolled down the window and the fresh cold air blew into my face. The sun, in my eyes, glittered and played over the uneven surface of the water. Even with all my travels I had to wonder if I had ever seen a prettier scene. Few places could possibly look this good. I know it is not always this pretty…I make it a point to really look at every river I cross. So I have seen it roiling and muddy and treacherous. But today it was peaceful and pretty. I wondered how it must have looked centuries ago before the fields were bare dirt and before we had drained the lowlands that protected the flowing waters. It must have been just about this pretty nearly every day in the long past.

John Prine once wrote, “Old trees just grow stronger and old rivers grow wilder every day.” I have no explanation but these words have always meant something to me. I have even considered having them permanently added to my skin but I always chicken out. These words ring true, but the damn realist in me knows that they are not accurate. Yes, old trees grow big and they are strong but they are the ones that break under heavy forces because they are no longer flexible. Rivers carry more water as they get older but only up to a point. Then the land flattens out and the river starts to meander and roam along a flood plain creating a soft peaceful flow.

So how do we define, strength and wildness? Is your current condition that which makes you strong? Is it your current life that defines your wildness? Or is it your past? Is it what you have been through? Is it the accumulation of your experiences that add one upon another that defines us. Perhaps I am stronger, not physically, but stronger nonetheless for the adventures, the joys and the sorrows that I have experienced. Perhaps I am wilder today than yesterday because I have added experience.

Yes, this is what John must have been writing about. It is the strength and the wildness that comes with age and experience. It is the ability to know that life goes on, for an uncertain amount of time that makes us strong and wild. It is this knowledge that ultimately makes us fearless. If we can keep growing yet all the while bending in the wind and meandering on our way…if we keep adding to our wildness through experience each day, life will be well spent. There is really nothing to lose. So do it.

Playing the poor hand well...

"Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well." - Jack London

Welcome Scott Johnson to the Window. Scott owns Legacy Outfitters in Logansport, Indiana, home of Black Dog Coffee Shop and some of the best art in the area. There's always music, art, books, good coffee, and conviviality there--it's one of our favorite places. And Scott's one of our favorite people. He's smart and hilarious and generous. Likes his bourbon and works with wood--I think he finds the story in wood and saws and sands until it can be read and felt. 

He posted this story on Facebook and I was enthralled. Seriously so. And I wanted to share it and share Scott, too. Come to Legacy Outfitters and meet him. Shake hands with him--it's a good, solid handshake. Buy something beautiful while you're there. Listen to some music or play some music. Have some coffee or a glass of something if it's a beer and wine night. And look around for stories. They're all over the place. 

Thanks for joining us, Scott.

One time I hopped a train.

I was a young man and out west of the Missouri River… just past where the Great Plains begin, and I had been walking down this lonely stretch of highway for more than a few miles. I knew where I was going. I knew my old Ford truck had just snapped its timing chain and I knew that I had to get to a town, call a wrecker and get it hauled in and fixed up. It wasn’t the first time in my life that I had been stranded. All total, I have run out of gas over 80 times. Mostly I did this when I was young but now and then I still let it happen just to make sure I know how to make my way in the world when things get tough. It’s the same reason why from time to time I tell a lie or I steal a little bit. It’s always a good idea to have those skills honed just in case. You never know when you might fall on hard times.

 Anyway.

In this particular case, I wasn’t out of gas but I was definitely stranded. I was about 20 miles from anyplace with a telephone and while I had a pistol in my belt and some money in my pocket, I found myself in a fairly tight spot. That old truck that I had walked away from on the side of that lonely highway wasn’t worth the price of a tow and certainly wasn’t worth a new engine which is what I suspected blew when the timing chain broke. I was debating in my mind just what I should do. The responsible person would have just sucked on it and had it hauled in and fixed up and waited for it to break down closer to home, but in those days, I wasn’t the most responsible of young men. So I started walking.

I was actually walking west towards that little town on the horizon when I saw this train crawling down the tracks next to the highway going east. It wasn’t going very fast. There were some coal cars and box cars and it had four engines pulling it so I figured it was in for the long haul.

Now, just the winter before I had read a book by Jack London. His most famous books are probably The Call of the Wild or White Fang, which is even better and The Sea Wolf, which in my opinion is his greatest of all. But that winter I had read The Road.Jack London was once a hobo. Actually he was what is called a Tramp Royal. That means he was one of the most experienced, well traveled, toughest sombitches to ever ride a rail. Jack London could write the words because he had lived the life. He was the real thing. He had frozen over mountains, starved over prairies and been parched over the deserts. He had been around and man, could he get to you. 

He wrote about how to catch and hold a “blind” on a train car and how to keep ahead of a railroad bull and how to make friends with a fireman or brakeman and how to steer clear of engineers and how and when to ditch. I had read about all these things. But up until this moment I had never dared actually do it.

Now here I was walking west toward that little town and there was this big old train moving east…and it just so happened that east is the direction that I really wanted to go. My daughters were very young and I had been gone for almost a month and I was trying to get home. Home was east. East. 

So I stared at this train for a while. I waved at the engineer as it went past and hell, he even waved back. As I watched it, my steps began to slow and pretty soon I realized that I was walking toward the tracks. I stood there for a while wondering if I actually had the gravel to do what I knew I wanted to do. I wanted to hop this train.

At first I just jogged along beside the cars. In those days I was pretty fit and I had been living pretty hard and so keeping up with that train wasn’t very tough. However, it was speeding up slowly and I was getting blown so I knew that soon a decision had to be made. I had my backpack slung and there wasn’t really anything in that old pickup from which I couldn’t walk away so in that moment, I decided. I slid the pack from my back and tossed it up onto the blind of one of the middle cars. I grabbed the rail with one hand and then both and held on tight. I ran with it for another hundred yards or so. Now and then I pulled myself up and let my feet leave the ground to test my nerve but then I let them back down and ran a few more steps. Finally I pulled up, made the first rung and hopped aboard. Man, it was mighty.

It was a beautiful day and as the train picked up speed I just stood there and watched the ties slide under me. The breeze was fresh and it was still before noon so I settled down and looking back now I must have looked like that guy in the Titanic movie, yelling that I was the king of the world. It was perhaps the most free I had ever been…ever have been. I rode that train for miles.

The neat thing about riding a train is that you don’t have to watch the road. You don’t have to pay attention to traffic or your speed or your radio or much of anything else so you get to just sit back and watch. You get to look. You get to see things. You get to think about things. The only thing I didn’t like is looking backwards, so I climbed up on top of that car and looked out at the world ahead of me.

When I became a teacher I once took my class down to the railroad tracks to talk about the size of the universe. In my experience there is nothing that gives you the feeling of infinity more than looking down a railroad track until it disappears to a point. Riding that train and looking out ahead of the engines miles out to the horizon…man, that was infinity. The wind was blowing from the west and I was heading east so it was easy to sit up on there and watch the miles go by. My only regret was that I never even looked back and waved goodbye at that old truck. I have no idea what ever happened to it.

I got sleepy after a while so I climbed back down onto the blind and lay down. I wrapped my belt around the ladder and then around my leg so I couldn’t fall off easily and drifted off for a bit. I felt the train slow and speed up…there were sections of track that were rough and some were as smooth as glass. We passed through small towns and the whistle blew at every crossing but the engines were quite a bit forward so it didn’t wake me much. I woke up thirsty and sore and climbed back up on top. The sun was lower now…at my back so I knew I was still going in the right direction. I didn’t know how far we had come. But I could see that the grazing land was giving way to crop land and I could see small wetlands dotting the landscape.

There is a state that has a motto of 10,000 lakes but before we drained all those wetlands it must have been 10,000,000 lakes. It seemed a shame that I wasn’t on a train a hundred years ago when the sod was thick and the wildlife thicker. Everyone thinks that farmland is so productive but it is not. For miles I saw one species of plant. Corn, or beans….that was it. The only place that still had any biodiversity were the wetlands. That is where all the life was. That is where it has always been. Water. The next set of billionaires are going to be made because of water. We will pay, too…anybody that has ever been thirsty knows how much they would pay for a drink.

I would have paid all I had on me. And more. I was thirsty, man. And I was trapped. You see, getting on a train is one thing but getting off is a whole other set of problems. You have to wait. You don’t get to pull off at the next exit. You have to wait…and you have to be thirsty.

It was dark now when we finally started to slow down to where I thought I could survive ditching. I couldn’t see anything that looked like a town…just a few scattered lights here and there, but we were slowing. The problem was that it was too dark to ditch. Ditching involves jumping from that train into the ditch and hope you don’t hit something too hard. If it’s daylight, it’s problem enough. Usually the grass is tall and you have no idea how many big rocks are lying in wait for you but at night…it is absolutely terrifying. You are actually jumping off into the unknown. You have no idea what you might hit or land in or actually just how far you have to fall. I have heard of hobos that jumped to their death because they ditched into a chasm or headlong into a bridge abutment. But my thirst was getting serious now. My head was pounding and I knew I was dehydrated from the wind beating me all day and I needed to get to ground. I heard the whistle in the distance so I knew there was a crossing ahead. I strained my eyes and hoped like hell we would slow a bit more but we never really did. Not enough anyway. 

Finally it seemed that the ditch was filled with tall grass and we had just passed the crossing so I knew there was a road, so I made a jump for it. I threw my pack off first and then made the leap. You can’t be timid when you jump from a train because you have to be damn sure you clear the track. So you go for it. I wrapped my arms around my head and my hands in front of my face to protect myself as much as I could and I jumped. We were going faster than I thought because when I hit the ground my feet stopped but my upper body kept going so I tumbled hard. I must have gone upside down about three times but I swear I came up standing somehow. My mouth was full of dirt and grass and I had gravel in my pockets. I was just thankful that I didn’t have a railroad spike up my ass.

I had a few scrapes and cuts and it took me about a half hour to find my pack but I finally did.
I straight lined it to the first light I could see that might be a house or a barn and found an old man that opened the door for me and gave me something to drink. It was the best glass of water that I have ever had even to this day. He was a nice old guy. I told him I had broken down a few miles down the road. I didn’t tell him that it was a few hundred miles back down the road, and he pointed me into town. Three miles and an hour and a half later I was in a Days Inn just out of a shower and staring in the mirror at a sunburned and banged up face. Grinning. One time, I hopped a train.