To my Professor

Dear Bob,

It can be said that my education was one of the most enjoyable and fulfilling journey through the college experience of anyone I know. And so many friends and family say it was because of me, but I tend to disagree. It was a combination of the subjects, my excitement for them, and those who shared my excitement. The first time I really talked to you at your office hours you were not your happy and pensieve self. Though at that time I did not know you, I presumed you just didn't like me. That, of course knowing me, did not disuage me from pursuing conversations with you, because as it were, your class piled on the reading like I'd never had before and I was overwhelmed. I don't know if it showed, but I really didn't think I could read it all. I learned early on to get to know the professor of the class. Week one was for studying the professor, their teaching style, and trying to recognize what they want me to get out of the class. You were quiet, thoughtful, and at unexpected times completely hilarious. That was a tough term for me. I experimented with the play you assigned for Spiritual Conquest class and you approved. So often I had not received that kind of response when it came to trying something new and creative. I knew then that maybe I should stick around this guy. It might be good for me.

Of course, knowing that I needed a mentor, but that I hadn't been advertising that fact, I was aware of my own needs and plans as a student. So in a way I was interviewing you for the job. You did a fine job indeed. I knew I was looking very determinedly to the future of being a professor, a scholar, and an all around history geek. I needed to find someone who shared a similar verve for all things history with an open mind to other subject that had by then picqued my interest. I needed training, and I was the Skywalker to your Obe One. I have a way of busting down the door into people's lives and at times am unapologetic. I live my life that way. I'm loud, extroverted, curious to a fault. In some ways you reminded me of Kristopher; you were optimistic, funny, and somewhat quiet. I had learned to speak to Kris, while realizing the trampling nature my personality can take on, and I think it helped prepare me for talking to you. At our high school we were assigned to write a legacy. What was our legacy, what did we want to be remembered as, and what did we want to leave behind. Of course, being me, I said with the spit fire of a proletariat party leader in front of my class that I was going to leave a mark on every life I encountered whether good or bad. At the time I was even more flaboyant, tempestuous, and outspoken (if you can believe that). Kris stood before the class and said he wished it all to be the same as if he had never existed. I was personally insulted and immediately took issue with him. He shortly learned about my temper, but in the long term, I know he will learn what I see you have learned. A non-outspoken person can make dramatic and powerful impacts on the lives they encounter as long as they stay true to their strengths. You and Kris share the strength of being two of the most genuine people I have ever met. I appreciate that about you above all.

Speaking at graduation was a point in my life, much like the Ethnohistory conference, where I believe my own path was shown to me. I received some kind of confirmation from the universe that, Yes I was headed in the right direction. Here was the supportive family that loves me that came to witness my goodbye to a chapter in my life. Here were classmates I recognized as more than just peers I argued with or for in class, as they truly were like me in their fear and excitement for some unknown future destination. Finally, here was my professor of two years, a remarkably short time I must say, who I had bonded with and formed a special connection with. It was a gift your friendship and mentorship.

I stayed my fifth year largely because of you and I don't know if I ever told you that. There was of course other things at play, such as Kris in a five year program, my November anxiety attack about applying to graduate programs, and a general lack of that sense of closure I thought I would feel approaching my graduation. I could have graduated the Spring of '08 quite easily, but you knew that. Although I can say without shame that I am an over achiever, I prefer to imagine that I knew my limits and I always strived to push myself to those limits. To challenge myself to grow as a student, as a scholar-in-training. I was testing myself to see if I had what it would take to be a scholar. Though never lacking in confidence, I did have doubts. I didn't know what I would study or where, so it made sense to slow down a bit. I needed to test the waters. I needed to train, and by the time I had resolved to stay before starting the Missions of California class, I decided I wanted you to help train me. Again, I have a way of busting down the door, and I don't know if I ever made it an option for you to decide if you wished to fulfill that role. It just felt right staying, while graduating didn't. I had yet to meet my threshold, my tipping point, my point of burn out and utter exhaustion; and for some idiotic reason I pursued that end and I am still paying for it in energy, though I never regret it. I couldn't have done a fifth year, as I did it with all the bells and whistles, without your support. Thank you for all the introductions to famous rock star historians at the conference. Thank you for wanting to be at my panel- it was enough to know you wanted to be there when you couldn't. Thank you for taking me under your wing (I'll miss that wing...). Thank you for reading my ridiculously long thesis as many times as you did; it pained me to send it off every time knowing me strength has yet to be succintion and conciseness. Both my parents are long-winded and I married a man of few words so I don't know how short I'll ever really make anything. I always work on it though.

I never knew I would write a thesis more comparable to a book in scope, but that is how I live my life. I can never be accused of not going big. But I also just let it happen, and everytime I lost sight of my thesis I would pick up a book and learn something knew. I had never had an experience before when I was reading pages and pages of all kinds of books and it didn't feel like an arduous task but some kind of adventure. I suppose that naivite may fade as my youth will, but I hope it doesn't. It was more than learning about Harrye and Helen, I learned humility, self-control, diligence, patience, and self-forgiveness through writing my thesis.

My mother always taught me to follow those opportunities that would be challenging and rewarding and worth far more to my life experience than I could ever imagine. To be open to those opportunities. Your steady encouragement was essential to not only my undergraduate degree experience, but also to my future academic career. I never felt judged for just being me. Thank you for that. That is not always the case. I knew I could blossom under your belief in me. I needed independence, a lot of it, but reinforcement. Although I am not gifted with much modesty, I was not looking for someone to dote over me. I wanted honesty and fairness. I knew and as I still know in my life, that any sort of recognition for my achievements is only as big as my ability to find the gift that they are without people confirming it so. I feel like the accolades for a job well done at the end of my degree was when I was least seeking people's approval, and I never had to seek yours really. I knew the fact that you read ever page of my thesis was enough to know you cared about my studies, about me, and about my future ambitions. Not all professors give the time and attention you (and Stephanie and Dianne) have given to me. It is a gift but one that I sought out.

The real confirmation was when you asked me to speak for graduation, and I stood in front of my family, my class, my professors, and you to say, "You guys gave a lot to me and I won't take that for granted." In the end, I didn't compromise my values or bend my boundaries to be the best at something in school. In the end, I didn't lose sight of the real goal of pursuing a passion through challenges and obstacles. I didn't lose sight of the gifts I was given in the end. I didn't forget, even when I sometimes wanted to, that I wanted all the challenges for the sole reason of making me a better person and training me to be a better scholar. I'm not done training of course. Never will be. I had one of the best college experiences because of the opportunities I was given. Bob, thank you for those opportunities.

I feel like this letter shys away from saying goodbye. In all honesty, (with your permission before I bust down the door) I hope to still have you around in my life for many years to come. So I don't want to say goodbye. I still have stuff to learn from you. I value our friendship and your mentorship, and I simply refuse to cut that cord.

Thank you for introducing me to Stephanie too. The opportunity to be an intern for her continued to be one of the really fun experiences I had amidst the chaos and pandamonium of my last year. You two are a powerful force together and I continue to hear from all sorts of students, professors, and from some of your colleagues at the ASE conference that you both have made a huge impact with your generosity and welcoming philosophy.

Finally, thank you for being you and for you letting me be me. I send my best wishes.

My Match

Hello, I'm a girl looking for my match. I have blue-green eyes and, depending on the weather, they are occassionally gray. I am dirty blonde. 5'8" and 190 lbs. I have cats and a dog. I live in a moderate sized apartment. I have a lot of debt. I make some money. I have family history of diabetes, breast cancer, high blood pressure, and twins.



I know there is little time left. The chances of finding someone, THE someone before we ascend is slim. I believe and I will continue to believe regardless of the forecast. When everyone starting matching for their ascension, I didn't want to go along with the crowd. The drones, the sheep that lazily did as they were told with no question. That of course was before Christ, our Savior and Lord, came again.



I was in a cafe. I was needlessly feeding an addiction to caffeine. I was cured that day though. I heard screaming. I heard cars honking. I saw people running. It was all rather like the movies, and I myself, a skeptic, stood about with other stunned skeptics. Eyes wide, brain numb, and feet stuck to the sidewalk. I forgot my iced drink, my scone, my newspaper- all things that were supposed to add meaning and substance to my life. I smiled that day for the first time in a long time and meant it. Hope filled me. I felt immediately relieved. If I had merely witnessed with my eyes the event, I would have taken it for a charade. Instead, I felt a change. It was inevitable and undeniable.



It is like a car crash really. Going about life as I normally would. Then hit with a most unexpected and path-altering reality, I was forced to be stunned. It was only fair that I should be so shocked considering the sad reality I had come to love. Or at least I thought it was love.



I need someone who understands me. Who maybe didn't believe either, at first. I know things have changed so much that people may be more interesting in the coming event than saving me. I hold out hope though. My match will be the one to carry me through to the other side. I want to hold hands to the very end. I always feared the end. Movies always made it so meaningless. The inevitability of this coming end makes me weep with happiness because it is so full of meaning and change that I will forever be happy. I am begging and pining for my raising path to the other side, but I cannot go in my current matchless state. I cannot bare to be alone here on this side. I fear I may not allow my own existence much longer after He takes us beyond.



I want to meet my unborn children on the other side. After He came and order the new changes to take place, I was set about with endless dreams of my beloved babies. Dreaming of the lives they'll never have and the happiness they hold on the other side that I confess I am envious of, my pretty babies await me... and you. I know what you look like from these dreams. I know the look of your eyes is manifested in my sweet ones. I know you pushed them on swings and read them lullabies. As I said, it is like an accident, a happy one indeed, that has hit the path of all mankind. Myself the unexpecting driver of my own journey fear that although I want the gift of heaven, I am sad my life of substance will die so swiftly because along with it dies trips to the Caribbean with you and school plays with the little ones. I am certain this is a world of doing though. Here were create, live, act, cheat, and die. There is so much to do. The world to come, the world you'll be my partner is seems to be, from the dreams I have, to be a world of being. I have such a hard time considering what that may mean for us. It is beyond me.



I heard on the news last night that Christ made his final call for all to find a match. Those who deny to try and those who fail to find their one true match will be here in this world of aching need for eternity. Do you ever think maybe Christ goes from world to world saving and damning the people of those worlds? I am looking for a believer. A man of 5'10"-6' height, green eyes, red hair, a tatoo of a lady dancing on his left calve. You have no chest hair and a goatee. You have a birth mark in the shape of the Earth from afar on your right hip. We would joke in the future we'll now never see that this is how God sees the world. You drive a jeep. You live in New Mexico. You cook authentic mexican meals and make a mean chocolate cake. I know you know me from your dreams.



We have such little time. I hope this reaches you. I have set out on foot by the time this is dispatches across papers, blog sites, and dating websites. I have a feeling though you know where I am headed. I saw it in my dreams last night. It is a beautiful house in Albequerque and there are two blooming cherry trees out front. The sky now is blue, but in my dream, I met you under a rusty red sunset. You may never read this and you may just see me there. You may never come and I will die upon the ground under those trees. How I know things that have never happened, or will never happen, I cannot explain, but I hope that you too see the dreams that have caught my heart in a snar. I have heard others say they have them too. Please listen to them.



I have been on foot traveling from Quebec since Christ arrived. The transportation unreliable and the roads dangerous, I have found shelter on trains with others searching for their matches. I wore heels for years and now I wear hiking boots I stole from a window shop. I don't know time anymore. I only know when it is to happen, then we are meant to follow, and when the world will turn into the hell I cannot dream of.



So my dear match, when you read this, be heartened by the loyalty I have for our love and ascension because there is nothing left to stop me from getting to you and from holding hands into the darkness to come.



I know your fears, your sadness, your kindness, and your love for me from my dreams. I just hope I treat you so well in your reveries. I sleep no longer. I dream.



This transmission is on a loop. A ham radio was all I could find as I traveled. I hope you hear me. I don't want to be left behind.



I am calling out for the man in my dreams, for my match. I'll be under the cherry trees and the rust red sky waiting to ascend with you. Our eternal happiness awaits, but it is impatient my love so please hurry.



.... Static hisses....



Hello, I'm a girl looking for my match. I have blue-green eyes and, depending on the weather, they are occassionally gray...