What seeds will you plant today for the yield you expect tomorrow?
Are you willing to wait longer than a day? Some things take more time.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Tesh
At the library doors today I made the acquaintance of Mr. Tesh, an Ethiopian man who came to Ohio from Addis Ababa in his college years, where he graduated from Bowling Green with two majors and earned a degree in Law from Ohio Northern. He has three sons, all of whom received full scholarships to attend their respective universities (Vanderbilt, Cincinnati and ___?___) and have left (for now, forever?) to Ethiopia.
He is a revolutionary (self-proclaimed, and otherwise). Someone once so strongly opposed his protesting that they threw a grenade at him, the affect of which he carries in his hazed right eye. He speaks with a fun accent, and his favorite phrases are "Holy chicken!" for astonishment or proud delight, and "what the hell are that?" for disgust at some unreasonable, illogical or passionless way humanity has approached being human. He aims for meaning, reads people well, speaks loud but pretty accurate political and social generalizations (in the library foyer) and has a heart for inspiring people to recognize their capabilities and incite change with their own lives rather than sitting around waiting...for what? ("What the hell are that?")
He believes in education over money, and in not wasting our lives. Believes there's more to life than jobs, and should be more to jobs than just work. He believes I've got a responsibility to stand up for what's right, and to take care of my country. He looked at me with a sincere heart and told me I can do miracles. In discussion about how we humans have the capacity to think for ourselves, he illustrated the statement by tapping the top of my head and saying "there's not potato chips up there." In the same place, where my hairline began, he gave me a goodbye, nice-to-know-you-child-be-wise kiss in the manner of a proud grandfather.
He inspired me.
He is a revolutionary (self-proclaimed, and otherwise). Someone once so strongly opposed his protesting that they threw a grenade at him, the affect of which he carries in his hazed right eye. He speaks with a fun accent, and his favorite phrases are "Holy chicken!" for astonishment or proud delight, and "what the hell are that?" for disgust at some unreasonable, illogical or passionless way humanity has approached being human. He aims for meaning, reads people well, speaks loud but pretty accurate political and social generalizations (in the library foyer) and has a heart for inspiring people to recognize their capabilities and incite change with their own lives rather than sitting around waiting...for what? ("What the hell are that?")
He believes in education over money, and in not wasting our lives. Believes there's more to life than jobs, and should be more to jobs than just work. He believes I've got a responsibility to stand up for what's right, and to take care of my country. He looked at me with a sincere heart and told me I can do miracles. In discussion about how we humans have the capacity to think for ourselves, he illustrated the statement by tapping the top of my head and saying "there's not potato chips up there." In the same place, where my hairline began, he gave me a goodbye, nice-to-know-you-child-be-wise kiss in the manner of a proud grandfather.
He inspired me.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)