<html><body><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; color: #000000"><br><div><span style="font-size: large;">FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL</span></div><div style="color:#000;font-weight:normal;font-style:normal;text-decoration:none;font-family:Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12pt;"><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; color: #000000"><div style="color:#000;font-weight:normal;font-style:normal;text-decoration:none;font-family:Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12pt;"><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; color: #000000"><div style="color:#000;font-weight:normal;font-style:normal;text-decoration:none;font-family:Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12pt;"><div dir="ltr"><div style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="font-family: Arial;"><div style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="font-family: Arial;"><div style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Good luck to little grandson, Oliver, today on his first day of school, August 18, 2016. </span></div><div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I remember so clearly, 34 years ago, my oldest daughter, Zoe's, first day of school at the Franklin Elementary School in Wakefield, MA, which was located just down the street where my first wife, Patricia, and our kids lived at her father's house. Patricia had attended the Franklin School, as did her father. So that was three generations of our family who got educated at the Franklin School -- you don't see much of that intergenerational thing anymore in our highly transient, mobile society. It's like we don't have permanent homes. It's like we're homeless in a sense.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Franklin School was built in 1902 and closed in 2004. It's a <span style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.25px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Colonial Revival style brick school -- very beautiful. It should have historic landmark status, but I think the City of Wakefield dropped the ball, and I'm afraid the school will be demolished. All things pass, I guess.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.25px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.25px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">See: http://heritage.noblenet.org/items/show/14167</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I remember, too, my son, Ryan's, first day of school 20 years ago at Cheyenne Elementary School in Colorado Springs, CO. Shannon, his mom and my girlfriend at that time (now my wife), held one hand, and I held </span>Ryan's<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> other hand, as we walked from the car to the school. It was hard to let him go.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ryan's </span>father<span style="font-size: 12pt;">, Paul, had died in a car crash less than two weeks earlier on August 13. On his fist day of school, Ryan was sad, fragile. He was quiet. And Ryan was a little </span>afraid<span style="font-size: 12pt;">, I think, as he walked away from us into a classroom filled with kids he had never met and a teacher, which Shannon and I would later learn, was more than a little </span>mean<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> toward Ryan. Shannon cried as Ryan walked away into that classroom, looking back at us over his shoulder, and I held her. Her body shook with crying.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"><div><br></div><div>My little babies were so precious, their faces so open and beautiful. Their faces so bright. Their eyes so full of light. </div><div><br></div><div>Zoe and Ryan -- and Austin, Vanessa, Marithea, and Arianna (my babies, all) -- I remember all of you trundling off to kindergarten. You were gifts from God. You <em>are</em> gifts from God.</div><div><br></div><div>Thank you, God. Thank you, God.</div><div><br></div><div>Thank you, God, for my only real treasure here on Earth.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>THE FACE OF A CHILD</div><div><br></div><div>In the face of a child,</div><div>I see an ocean.</div><div>I see an ocean of love.</div><div>I see God's love for us.</div><div><br></div><div>In the face of a child,</div><div>I see all the mysteries</div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">of the universe.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I see wonder of all that is.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div>In the face of a child,</div><div>I see all what was lost</div><div>but is now found -- I see</div><div>my own face as a child.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div></div><br></div></div><br></div></div><div style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></div></div></div></div></div><div><br></div><style><!--
.hmmessage P
{
margin:0px;
padding:0px
}
body.hmmessage
{
font-size: 12pt;
font-family:Calibri
}
--></style></div></div><div><br></div></div></div><br></div></body></html>