Leaving: The Road Ahead

 

Yesterday I rode down to Rockaway Beach. From there, I pedaled into wind that, at times, reached 40KPH (25MPH) to Brighton Beach.

Along the way, I thought,  among other things,  about the encounters with students I mentioned in my previous post. They could’ve changed my mind about a decision I made earlier. But something one student said made me realize I made, if not the right choice (if there was one), but one that could work out in ways I hadn’t planned.

Someone asked a food writer or chef—I forget which—what he would choose for his last meal. “Wait—I thought you hated those foods,” the interviewer interjected. “Exactly. I don’t want to be unhappy about leaving this world.”  For me, the conversations I had with the two non-binary students, particularly a comment one of them made, left me satisfied that this coming week, I will be teaching my last classes.

Not long after I had the dream about a classmate I hadn’t seen since graduation—and finding her name on my high school’s “In Memoriam” list—I wrote my letter stating my intention to retire as of 1 June, just after the semester ends. While there are ways in which college teaching has changed that are not to my liking (e.g., online classes), I am not leaving because of dissatisfaction or even burnout, though I find that the work seems to take more of my energy than it did years ago. Rather, I am satisfied that I am leaving on a good note: The in-person class that included those two students is one of my favorites, and the two online courses I taught this semester at least had students who seemed friendly and worked diligently.

My student is right: Wherever I go and whatever I do next, I will offer people like them, young and old—and myself—what  I have given them and what I did not have when I was their age or when I started my gender affirmation process.

Growing His Passion In Soddy-Daisy

 Here in New York City, we have Hell Gate, Hell's Kitchen and Gravesend.

There are other funny, interesting and unusual place names all over the world.  I think now "Cheesequake," in New Jersey, just a couple of towns over from where I went to high school  And Condom, in the southwest of France (I've been there)-- which, of course doesn't have the same meaning in English.  Speaking of English, there's Upperthong, in West Yorkshire.

For a cuter, more family-friendly toponym, how about Soddy-Daisy in Tennessee?  

Somehow I imagine that there must be some interesting people in a place like that.  How can you not move--or tell people you're from--there without at least cracking a smile.

One of the folks in that place is probably one of the first I'd want to meet:  Tom Jamison.

Tom Jamison.  Photo by Matt Hamilton, for the Chattanooga Times-Free Press

He bought his first bike as an adult in 1997.  But, he says, he didn't start putting in "serious mileage" until  retired as a Tennessee Valley Authority project manager at age 50, in 2004.  Almost immediately, he jumped on his bike and pedaled over 500 miles to Orlando, Florida for a vacation with his daughter.  

Since then, he reckons he's pedaled 160,000-170,000 miles.  With his riding buddies, he does two or three trips a year.  "I even pedaled to Hampton, Virginia for a high school reunion," he recalls.  "They were in amazement."

He's done about 100,000 miles, he figures, on his go-to bike:  a Trek 520.  From looking at his photo, I have little doubt he'll make it to another reunion--whether on that bike or another, from a town called Soddy-Daisy.