Long-Term Investment

January 25, 2012

Many homes have just removed the decorations from their holiday trees and removed the bare, brittle tree from their house. This has caused me to reflect on a drive last fall through many miles of tree farms, observing some trees ready for harvest but many more trees that were many years away from cutting.

During that drive I thought about the character of those who had planted the trees.  This is not like many crops which are planted in spring and provide a return on the investment by fall.  One who plants trees knows the harvest is many years of growth and pruning away. That return on investment could be a decade or two of toil down the road.

As I questioned how these farmers could wait so long, I began to marvel at the optimistic, patient spirit they must have.  Their hope and persistence.  Their assurance that the time and money invested now will be rewarded later.

This humbling internal dialogue caused me to think of dedicated teachers, coaches and administrators who, metaphorically, are planting some trees and pruning others each and every school year, knowing they may never personally see the results.  But having confidence that, in time, there will be a return on the investment they and their communities have made in our young people.

Making a Statement

June 17, 2015

Amid the horrific destruction of Baghdad, the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, Karim Wasfi, is making a statement. Mr. Wasfi has been carrying a chair and his beloved cello to the exact locations where violence occurs, very shortly after it occurs, and he plays.

With the roar of car bombs still ringing in ears and rubble still smoking, Wasfi plays. He told National Public Radio: “The other side chose to turn every element, every aspect of life in Iraq into a battle zone. I chose to turn every corner of Iraq into a spot for civility, beauty and compassion.”

The response of this single citizen to the catastrophic chaos in his city and country is especially powerful because of the beauty of his music amidst the brutality of civil war; but neither his gift nor the jolting juxtaposition should cause us to miss the message that our response to overwhelming problems could be and should be like his, even if less newsworthy from the perspective of a national radio broadcast. For example ...

  • We can wring our hands in despair that the Earth’s increasingly polluted air, land and waters are so far gone and the problem is of such great scale that nothing we could ever do will change things; or, we can choose to turn every corner of our little slice of the physical world into a less polluted place. We can make a statement.

  • We can weep over the slaughter of elephants, the leveling of mountains or the razing of forests or jungles by crooks or corporations that cannot see the consequences of their reckless avarice; or, we can choose to make our neighborhoods spots of beauty, conservation and sustainability. A statement.

  • We can cry ourselves to sleep over humanity’s inhumanity to those who look, dress or worship differently; or, we can choose to make our little community a welcoming place for refugees where long-suffering and persecuted people can feel safe and hopeful. A statement.

  • And we can become frustrated that the values of school sports are so regularly undermined by the excesses of youth, college, professional and international sports that it feels hopeless to hang onto what we believe; or, we can choose to devote ourselves to maintaining our little niche of the sports world as a more principled place ... where scholarship, sportsmanship, safety and a sensible scope are recognizable and reliable core values. A statement.

The great conductor carrying his chair and cello to the rubble is real. It’s also a metaphor which reminds the rest of us of other daunting problems and the opportunity each individual person has to make a meaningful response – a clear statement – where we live, work and play.