My Journeys as a Cardboard Cutout

Like most things in our Amazon-Prime world of free-shipping, my cardboard cutout arrived in the mail. It would be the first journey of its travel-filled summer.

 

Maybe you’ve seen the cardboard cutouts of spectator’s faces seated in the baseball stadiums. The Dodgers are one of the teams that has cutouts. They had two prices, $149 and $299, with the proceeds going to the charities supported by the team’s foundation. I thought these were fair prices, somewhat close to what I’d spend on a night at the ballpark (the former) and (the latter) if I wanted concessions. I decided to forgo ordering from the Dodgers, instead getting a cardboard cutout from a printshop in Fresno for a fraction of the cost.

 

I mapped out my travel plans while waiting for my likeness to arrive in the mail. I ordered a number of padded envelopes (I need to travel in comfort), printed pre-paid shipping labels, and placed phone calls to all the people I’d be visiting. I also included a detailed itinerary so not to confuse anyone.

 

I was pleased with the quality of my cutout, I looked quite nice if I do say so myself. I named him Flat Tony. Soon after being delivered, Flat Tony boarded a motorhome with my friends Will and Dee for a roadtrip to the national parks of southern Utah and Arizona. I‘ve always said that Zion National Park is my happy place, so it was amazing to revisit it once again. But my first trip to Bryce National Park was more spectacular than I imagined. We hiked for hours, and I sat atop Will’s backpack, completely enjoying the views while also keeping a watchful eye on his two children. We last stopped at the Grand Canyon and once again I was awed by the majesty and grandeur of the grandest of erosion-induced landforms.

 

2020 was supposed to include my first-ever cruise. I was going to go to Alaska to see whales and glaciers. Remember the cruise ship that was docked in San Francisco harbor back in the early days of the pandemic? That was to be our boat, the SS Coronavirus. Despite the cancelation of all cruises, I still made it to Alaska, traveling via first-class mail to my cousin Jim’s house in Wasilla. The memories of this visit will last a lifetime. Jim took me fishing, whale-watching, and glacier-viewing. I included instructions to stuff me into the next pre-labeled envelope after a two-night stay. Like the fish we caught, I didn’t want to smell after three days.

 

I thought this summer would be a good time to check off a few baseball stadiums I have yet to visit. Jim mailed me to my cousin Dave in Ft. Lauderdale, FL. It was my longest journey of the summer, a whopping 3,300 miles. Dave took me to a Marlin’s game. Dave is a top-notch chef, so the food was picture-perfect. Dave then mailed me to my cousin John’s place outside of Tampa so I could attend a Rays' game. He then sent me to my cousin in Orlando, who then mailed me to John’s daughter Tracy in Atlanta so I could catch the Braves in action. Houston and Toronto now remain as my last two teams to visit. Since I don’t have family or friends in these cities, I decided to focus on traveling the country. Tracy shipped me North Carolina. Then it was on to the DC area to see a gaggle of cousins there. They then sent me on to Michigan to see relatives on both sides of the family tree. My final stop was in St. Louis, where more kinsfolk on my mom’s side reside. I cherished being able to see my aunt Shirley, who at 89 years old is the eldest stateswoman in the family. The get-togethers were special at every destination. 

 

The St. Louis clan then sent me homeward. I arrived just in time for one more motorhome trek, this time with Rick and Lynn to Yellowstone National Park. The ride was as smooth as a fine wine and offered the needed rest after thousands of miles of air travel. 

 

When Flat Tony finally returned home, I found my cutout a little worn and tattered. My corners were bent, and my edges were frayed. I needed a good disinfecting. I put my cutout in the car and drove myself around town. I went by my church which is still off limits. I thought maybe I should sneak Flat Tony inside on a Sunday. It might be cool to see myself on the next Livestream, peaking over the shoulder of Todd the drummer. I showed Flat Tony my gym, which I haven’t entered into since it’s brief summer reopening. I think of the owner, my friend Gil, and hope he’s surviving. I pointed out my favorite restaurant and its parking-lot dining area, thankful that the Chef is still cooking. We passed empty movie theaters and the massage studio that used to keep my back kink-free. I wonder if it will still be in business when the pandemic ends.

 

I decided to make one more stop. I went to my classroom. It was empty of course, a lonely reminder of our times. I looked around, sad that it will remain vacant probably into 2021. I wished for the clamor of learning in progress. Instead, like Zoom students on mute, there’s nothing but silence. 

 

How weird I thought, as we drove home, how much our lives have changed and how different things are depending on where you live. I could drive a few miles south, cross the Orange County border, and experience a totally different level of freedom. Flat Tony got to travel the country, but I can’t go to church or eat in a restaurant. Unless I want to drive to Anaheim or San Diego.

 

Back at home, I showed Flat Tony my upstairs guestroom/classroom. He looked like he might cry, but he was impressed with the flat screen TV. So, I turned on the baseball playoffs. After weeks of travel, he looked right at home.

A Labor of Love

 “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

As we celebrate Labor Day, it’s easy to look around and see how the Covid-19 pandemic has affected the American workforce. Maybe you’ve been laid off, or at least you know someone who has. Perhaps you’re working from home or experiencing a drastic change in how your work environment looks. The travel, hospitality, food-service, construction, and retail industries have been hit hardest. Small business owners are reeling. The good news is that unemployment is dropping, and businesses are starting to bounce back. 

 

The education of children around the world, has been significantly altered by the pandemic. Schools are in different stages of reopening. My worldwide sources tell me that schools in Prague are fully open, but the students are bubbled by year. It’s like keeping the freshman, sophomores, juniors, and seniors all isolated from each other. So that if someone is infected, just that one group can be quarantined. 

 

A friend in the UK reported that schools where she lives are also ready to open next week. There are several protocols in place to keep kids safe and socially distanced. One includes putting the teacher in a marked off box that the students aren’t allowed to enter. Sort of like the goal crease in hockey. If the teacher leaves the box, does he or she receive a two-minute timeout in the teachers’ lounge?

 

My national correspondents relay similar info. A teacher in Florida said her school is open. Parents had the choice of virtual or traditional school. Teachers with health issues take the virtual classes. In Maryland, my cousin stated that schools are only virtual, but will re-evaluate next month. A friend in Rochester, NY also had the traditional vs. virtual option. A cousin in eastern Michigan says that schools are either open, totally virtual, or using a hybrid, depends on where you live. Here in LA County, virtual is the only option. 

Last month, I started my 21^st year of teaching and it’s safe to say that I’ve never had a day when I didn’t want to go to work. But, contrary to the quote above, I’ve had to work every one of those days. The wisdom of the quote is not lost on me. Find a career that is rewarding and meaningful and you’ll enjoy your work. Choose a job to which you can passionately devote your heart and mind and you’ll discover a fulfillment that carries you though the struggles, frustrations, and difficulties.

 

And that’s what I’ve found. Teaching is by far the hardest and most exhausting job I’ve had, but it is fulfilling and rewarding beyond measure. I enjoy the challenges. I love not being stuck in a car or an office. I like creating lessons and collaborating. My day flies by. Oh, and the kids are pretty great too. They learn, grow, and make me laugh. But they’re hard too, because well, they’re kids. But on tough days, we can go play kickball.

Teaching has always required a ton of work. I’ve often said that I could keep an administrative assistant busy with all the extra things on my plate. No teacher ever says, “I’m caught up.” There is always something else to do. But things are incredibly different now. The work has exponentially increased. This season of pandemic-induced distance learning reminds me of my first year of teaching. It was a crazy year of on-the-job training and trial-by-fire preparation. Every waking minute was spent thinking about teaching. And 21 years later I find myself in the same boat. It’s non-stop thinking and around-the-clock working. I, and teachers around the world, are working harder than ever.

 

A quick poll of my colleagues tells me that educators are working twice, three-times, maybe even four times as much. One said that the stress and anxiety that comes with virtual instruction has increased also. And it’s more physically taxing, reported another. Doing so much computer work is wreaking havoc on our eyes, brains, heads, backs, and necks. I agree. I feel mentally fried by the end of the day.

 

Here’s a glimpse of the difference between virtual and traditional: a simple third-grade lesson on adjectives would include giving the students a page to cut out, color, and glue into a notebook as I guided them through the lesson. Virtually, this is much harder. It would involve parents being able to download and print my worksheets. So Instead, I create a slideshow about adjectives that includes embedding an adjectives video. Then I create a Google form to give the students practice with adjectives. Lastly, I assign adjectives practice on an educational website. Now imagine doing that for every lesson, for each subject, five days a week. 

And that’s just lesson prep. Add in a few more hours to learn all the technology that distance learning requires. Teachers are watching videos, scouring digital-learning platforms, vetting online resources, and learning how to use educational websites so they can make their Zoom lessons academically enriching. 

 

Many teachers I know are Zooming from their empty classrooms. I read about a history teacher from Texas who is traveling all around the country teaching from historical places of interest. Another, hospitalized on bedrest, is laboring from her hospital bed until she goes into labor. I have graduated from the kitchen table where I taught in the spring to the upstairs guestroom. It’s quiet and I have my own restroom.

 

Why are teachers working so hard? Because it’s what we do. We don’t want our students to lose out on learning. We want to maximize every moment, in person or virtual, we have with them. We don’t accept mediocre work, so we don’t allow ourselves to perform mediocrely. Even if it means working in the summer, on the weekends, at nights, and on holidays.

 

Somewhere there is a teacher working today, a holiday devoted to taking a break from working. So, as you celebrate say a prayer or a give a positive thought to the universe for the teachers in your life.

 

Because we need them. Now more than ever before. 

 

Happy Labor Day

Watching Opening Day with Shoeless Joe

I was settling in to watch Thursday’s season opener between the Yankees and Nationals, when my stepdaughter noticed a strange baseball player in our backyard. He was wearing a throwback White Sox uniform.

 

Suddenly, I was reminded of the time I took Hall of Famer Tris Speaker to an Angel’s game (here). I haven’t spoken with Speaker since, but I could tell this wasn’t him next to the jacuzzi.

 

“I think that’s Shoeless Joe Jackson,” I said. “You know, from Field of Dreams.”

 

I poked my head out the back door and called, “Can I help you?” 

 

“You a lawyer?”

 

“No, I’m a teacher.”

 

He turned to leave, “Sorry to bother you then.”

 

“Wait,” I yelled, “I know some lawyers. Stay for a few minutes. We’ll talk. And besides, the game just started.”

 

He nodded and approached our door. He removed his cap and tentatively entered our TV room as if he was exiting an Iowa cornfield. I pondered asking him to wear a mask.

 

“Joe Jackson,” he said, extending his hand.

 

“I thought that was you!” One of the greatest hitters in the history of baseball was in my home. Because my mind races like a bullet train, I instantly pulled up his batting feats: he owns the third highest career batting average (.356) and is one of the few guys to hit over .400 for a season. He hit .408 in 1911 and didn’t win a batting title. Ty Cobb hit .419. On the other hand, Jackson was one of eight players banned for life for allegedly throwing the 1919 World Series. 

 

Motioning for him to take a seat on the couch, I said, “Great timing, it’s Opening Day.”

 

“In July?”

 

“It’s been quite a year,” I said.

 

“What’s with all the empty seats? We used to play to huge crowds. Don’t people watch baseball anymore?”

 

“We’re in the middle of a global health pandemic and the fans can’t go. That’s also why the season is just starting.”

 

I went on to recap the Covid-19 scenario, the quarantine, the masks, the deaths, and the restrictions. I didn’t mention the toilet paper shortage. 

 

“Sounds rough,” he said. “Reminds me of 1918. We had a pandemic too.”

 

“The Spanish Flu. I’ve read a little about it. What was it like?”

 

“It was pretty awful,” he said. 

 

My mind rattles off the stats as he described the hardships the nation felt at the time. The pandemic lasted 15 months and killed an estimated 50 to 100 million people worldwide, including approximately 675,000 Americans. More than 500 million people were infected around the globe.

 

“And we had to end the 1918 season two weeks early because of the war. Many of us ball players had to work to support the war effort. I only played in 17 games that year. Had to go work in a shipyard.” 

 

“Why?” I ask.

 

“It was either that or get sent to the Western Front. The government instituted a “Fight or Work” program. I chose ‘work’.”

 

“Smart choice.” I couldn’t imagine Mike Trout or Mookie Betts having to make that decision. 

 

On the TV, Giancarlo Stanton hit a mammoth home run and pitchers Gerrit Cole and Max Scherzer looked sharp. As the game rolled on we settled into comfortable conversation. He told me about having to go to work in a mill as a six-year-old and that his wife was just 15 years old when they married.

 

We talked mostly about baseball, the evolution of the game, and my life as a fan. We shared our love for a sport that for over a century has been a daily diversion from the troubles of life, a unifier of communities, and something sacred to focus upon to pass the time. I thought of our country’s current boiling pot of issues and wondered if anything would have been different had we had sports to bring us together.

 

On the TV, it started raining.

 

As if on cue he said, “Racially, it was an explosive time too. There were riots all over the country. Lots of deaths, mob violence, and the national guard.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” I said sadly.

 

“It was later called Red Summer because of all the bloodshed.”

 

I made a note to read up on my history.

 

But when MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred appeared on the screen for an interview he mumbled under his breath, “Commissioners,” and changed the topic.

 

“So, about that lawyer,” he said.

 

“Yeah, why do you need one?”

 

“I want to sue Major League Baseball. I’d like to be reinstated.”

 

I shook my head in disbelief. “Now, 100 years later?”

 

“Yes. Now. I heard about how the Astros cheated in the World Series.”

 

“You heard about that, but not the pandemic?”

 

“I thought that was fake news.”

 

“Very funny. But why the lawsuit?”

 

“Because those guys admitted to cheating and didn’t get punished! Meanwhile, I was acquitted in a court of law AND got banned for LIFE! We lost the World Series,” he continued, “and the commissioner tossed us out of the game!”

 

“Well, there were punishments,” I said. “People were fired. The team lost draft choices and was heavily fined.”

 

“Apples and oranges, buddy. The players, the guys between the lines, they still have jobs. Very well-playing jobs, I might add.” 

 

I couldn’t disagree. I told him about how MLB granted the players immunity. How it said the players ‘didn’t know’ that using technology to steal signs was illegal because Houston’s management failed to pass down a memo from Manfred’s office. 

 

“Didn’t know, hmmph!” he garbled. “Everybody knows. They knew it. You know it as a kid. You know cheating is wrong like you know how to give a firm handshake, like you know how to look someone in the eye when you say, ‘good-morning’.” He stood up, started pacing the living room. “You telling me that everybody who scuffed a ball, corked a bat, and took a drug, didn’t know what they were doing?”

 

“Of course they knew ….” His voice trailed off. 

 

He’s right I think to myself. You know it as a kid. In my classroom, my students set up three-sided cardboard walls during tests to prohibit cheating. The temptation is strong. Wandering eyes lead to an unfair advantage. Especially if you’re sitting next to a smart kid.

 

And when they get caught, they don’t say, “I didn’t know I couldn’t do that.”

 

In the Astro’s dugout, technology and trashcan lids created an unfair advantage. Did Jackson and his fellow scandal-mates give their World Series opponent, the Cincinnati Reds, an unfair advantage?

 

I have to ask him, there might never be another chance. “Did you do it, Joe?” 

 

He picks up a wooden bat that I keep nearby. Gives it a few slow swings. He looks me in the eyes, pauses, and says, “It’s been a hundred years, I think I’ve done my time.”

 

My heart sinks. I’ll get you the numbers of the two lawyers I know,” I say. “I hope it works out.”

 

The scrawl on the bottom of the screen says a player has been banned for 80 games for using performance enhancing drugs. I think 80 games would have been sufficient for sign-stealing too. 

 

The rain delay in Washington extends, so I switch over to the Dodgers game. The Dodgers have cardboard cutouts placed in the seats behind home plate. A reminder of our current times.

 

Times that are ever changing. Times that seem to stay the same.