Thinking About All That is Golden, Pure, Joyful, and Meaningful. Thinking About the Park Girls.

In 1997, my first crew of freshmyn humans (y was deliberate) came to me at the J. Graham Brown School. Among the crew was Gaelyn, the red-headed fencer with an artistic flare and an absolutely profound insight into what it means to be a human being. She was reflective, introspective, adolescent, curious, creative, and stubborn. But she was Golden, and she believed in the silliness of Frog and his lili-pad and eventually became "Goldfish."

In Goldfish's sophomore year, a tragedy followed by a tragedy happened to her and her family's world and all of us at the J. Graham Brown School, especially her classmates, were affected. It, in many ways, defined the four years of the high school experience. These were young people trying to figure out a complicated world,  who formed a tight-knit Brown School family (that is what is precious about the school). These were also the kids who I had for my four years of their high school experience - I was their English teacher. They molded me as an educator and while guiding them through the years (it wasn't easy), they shaped me as much as I was trying to shape them. I owe them my world.

Goldfish graduated, and next came Rachael, the middle child. She entered high school with zest and pep, personality and feistiness, humor and a passion for life. Similar to Goldfish's class, it didn't take long for the classmates to bond, to form a family, and to carry forward their own memories and possibilities. Goldfish did a project one on the 8-folded path of Buddhism that resonated with her, but also made total sense to me. I was a little more confident in my teaching and was ready for a more vocal, more opinionated, and festive middle sister. She was The Phoenix, because she knew exactly how to be reborn from the craziness of life. I cherished teaching her and loved not only her, but the friendships she had with classmates. Middle children unite!

The youngest, Casey, never came to room 301 as I moved to do my doctorate when she was still an underclassmen. Still, the Brown School was such an incredible place, I was able to see her grow from kindergarten all the way until I left. A young man, Andrew, was very close with Casey and when she entered high school and I had him as a student, he told me the story of the boy and the starfish. It didn't take me long to have a nickname for Casey, Starfish, even though I never had the fortune of teaching her. I knew she was clever, conscientious, kind, and extremely deep with her thoughts. If I am to name one regret, it would be that I never had this beautiful human being in my classroom.

I always saw the three girls as part of my Brown family and, because of insanity life sometimes brings, viewed them as heroic, brave, admirable and precious. Watching them develop as sisters and young women always offered me tremendous hope for the world and total happiness. In many ways, these three became my religion. They are spiritual, fantastic and magical human beings.

Yesterday, I learned that Gary, the father to Goldfish, Phoenix, and Starfish, died unexpectedly and is now with their mother, Wendy, up in the Great Whatever. It has been 17 years since I taught Gaeylyn, 14 years since teaching Phoenix, and 11 years since I left the Brown and, as a result, didn't get to see Casey graduate in person. Still, these incredible human beings mean the world to me. I'm so sad for my precious Park girls, but write this morning knowing that if anyone can get through the sadness, it is them. They are the sunshine, the sherbet, and the citrus of the world. They bring all that is a treasure and golden, everything that calls for rebirth and energized reflection. They are the five-armed embrace of sisterhood.

I am thinking of all three of them this morning. I am sending my "elephant shoe" that has defined my mentoring for so many years and I am hoping they continue to find the strength through each other, their friends, notes such as this, and their families - all 3 of them have blossomed into the universe in magical ways.

The Park girls are adults now, but the sadness doesn't lesson. Here's to the 3. I am sending my prayers for serenity to you from Connecticut. I love you all.