Hiding from the cold
I had one of those productive moods on me. Beware apartment and clutter, anything I haven't touched/used in six months gets thrown out. Or at least until I came to a brown A5 envelope. It wouldn't look anything out of the ordinary to you. It does to me. It contains my school reports and conflicting memories of childhood.
One in particular evoked fond memories of my English teacher, Mr Gibson. (Sadly no longer with us). A man enthusiastic about his subject and determined to enrich the vocabulary of every student. One particular lesson springs to mind.
"What does persecution mean?" Bouncing on the balls of his feet with ruler in hand, ever passionate when discussing war poetry.
Tumbleweed. Well, until he thwacked me on my arm with said ruler.
"That's what it means ladies and gentlemen. Picking on somebody!"
I never forgot it's meaning - the world loves a volunteer, never sit too close to the teacher and more importantly - treat others as you wish to be treated. Now, when people push my buttons trying to get a rise out of me, I rub my arm absently and try to remember that ruler. Life really is too short for grudges.
In fact many of his lessons stick in my mind, which is why I like to write. Being T-total, when I next make a brew I shall raise him a toast. Here's to you Mr Gibson - and thank you.