It All Starts Here
If you are reading this our paths have crossed. Most likely on Twitter. I am so pleased that this crossing occurs now because it coincides with me being at the happiest, most confident moment that I can recall.
This timing works out well for me. I have had many ups and downs over the last 8 years. It has been a roller coaster of personal and family issues but the one piece of my life that survived and even thrived during this tumultuous time - teaching.
I have always had the perspective of doing the best for my students. I tried, no matter how things were going to maintain focus that the kids at school didn't know about what I was going through and shouldn't know. I was their teacher. I was their bridge from elementary to middle school (I teach 6th grade, kids first year out of elementary). School was a safe haven where I could get 7 hours away from outside forces that were weighing me down. My time with these children is short so I need to make their experience the best I am able. My time with them is limited so the moments someone crosses my path I need to suck it up and do my best during that moment, every moment.
Though I feel like I always had this mindset inside of me, it wasn't until 2006 that it came to the forefront of my consciousness. My father was diagnosed with a glioblastoma mulforme. Typically patients of my dad’s age live 10 months, he lived 10 ½. I can’t go too deep into this here (I’m supposed to be finishing my ISTE proposals!!!) but this morning I came across an email that included the eulogy I gave at his funeral mass. Reflecting on the path that has led me here… to you… to #BFC530… to this, my first real blog post… I wanted you to know the beginning… I wanted you to know about the man that has taught me so much and still does each and every day.
I am Henry Capro’s son.
I have been trying to figure out how to summarize a man in a 5-minute speech. Meeting
so many people over the past 10 ½ months who knew my father I quickly came to the
conclusion that my father’s impact on this world can not be explained in words. But that
is my impossible task here today and I will give it my best shot.
Did you know? My father:
Could inexplicably hit a one iron but not a driver
Was hairy
Saved someone from drowning
Worked toward the building of an ethanol plant in New Jersey
Taught someone how to whistle
Had a life-long disdain for landscape eating creatures that I am convinced began one
fateful Easter (check out photo collage)
Single handedly occupied more seats in Vernon than I think there are committees
Held someone over a flushing toilet
Saved us from the dreaded Y2K
Was always guiding us without judgement
Taught us over his answering machine when to fertilize our lawns (I believe it was twice
in the fall)
Unknowingly taught us all how to live life
Over the last 2 days I have had the pleasure of meeting many couples who stayed at the
Mill. I was astounded to find that many of them who came to dad’s wake had only
known him a very short time. I observed one couple; the man was in hospital scrubs. I
assumed the possibility that he was one of my father’s doctors at one of the many
facilities we had been to, but I didn't recognize him. The couple took great care looking at
each of the photo displays we created and I noticed the wife listening intently while I was
telling my friends about the memento I have been carrying around from my father for the
past two weeks.
Quick aside: My dad always carried around a small pocketknife, which not unlike
MacGyver he would seemingly use for everything. I have been carrying it around trying
to figure out what the man used it for. After 2 weeks, I have used it three times, once to
open chocolates, to open a toothbrush and to cut a tag off a shirt. I am hoping to become
more enlightened about its uses over time. But if a black bear comes charging in at any
point during this talk, don’t worry, it’s all me.
Later, Sue introduced me to the man in scrubs, Dr. Tom Steineke and his wife Colleen. I
found out that he was not one of my father’s doctor’s but in fact they were guests of the
Mill. After making sure Dr. Tom did not leave mid-surgery to attend, they told me their tay was one night only but my father had made such an impression that they came up 2
hours to pay their respects. The couple was one of the last to leave on Tuesday night. As
we were walking out to our cars, Kristin and I were retelling some of the amazing stories
we had heard about our father during that day. Dr. Tom had just helped his wife into
their car and must have heard my sister and I talking. I told him, “Yes, we were talking
about you.” We shook hands and I told him how much I appreciated him taking the time
to drive so far to honor a man that he knew for only one day. He told me quickly and
simply, “My wife and I talked about your dad after we left the Mill and were in
agreement that he was a very unique and special person that we wished we had in our life
always.” Those sentiments rang throughout every conversation I have had with family,
friends and guests.
Many of us are able to impact our families and friends, but what was truly special about
my father was his ability to effortlessly gain the respect and admiration of anyone who
was lucky enough to cross his path. I was fortunate enough to have him in my life, as a
father for 35 years. I know he was a great man and it makes me feel so proud and happy
to know that so many other know it too.
My father’s desire during his battle with cancer was to just get back his life. Funny
enough he wanted to get back to driving 3 hours to attend 8 hours of meetings only to
drive an hour to spend an hour visiting Grandma and Grandpa, only to drive another 20
minutes out of his way to chase my children around playing the part of the witch in
Hansel and Gretel, all while looking studly in the same suit he wore to the meetings
earlier in the day, only then to drive 2 ½ hours back to Sue, his Mill and his waterfall.
My father loved his life, and each and every one of us could not ever get enough of him,
but what is wonderful is my dad couldn’t get enough of each and every one of us either.
My father was and is my greatest teacher and whether he realized it or not he effortlessly
turned every action into a life lesson and I am going to treat this as no different. In death,
I believe that my father wants us to realize that time is a gift and what you do with it will
be your legacy.
For my father, plant a garden with flowers and tomato plants. For my father, use your
vacation days. For my father, establish a tradition of family dinners, barbeques and
picnics. For my father, live your life to leave a positive impression on everyone that is
fortunate enough to cross your path.
I love you dad.
My father surrounds me every day from the glass apple he gave me that sits on my desk... to my son’s tall, lanky build and blue eyes... to my desire to have a positive impact on everyone I meet... I know my father would be proud of the path that I am walking at this moment and it is an honor to share this moment with you.
