His Story
I found out from the son of my HS History Teacher that his father, Mr. Eklund, passed away this week. Mr. Eklund was the epitome of "Curmudgeon". He was witty, and quirky and charismatic enough to intimidate even the fiercest of his Advanced Placement History Students. I must admit, I slept in his class much too often; I was a busy gal between theatre and work and keeping it all together and US History seemed the perfect time to catch up. I still managed some great grades; and I always enjoyed my waking moments too.
I wonder sometimes why Mr. E didn't call me out in some of those moments when I was dozing a little too peacefully. He was a smart man and I am sure he noticed. I tend to think he knew I was overextended and while more than a little disappointed, he was willing to look the other way. Either that or he thought it wasn't worth the trouble if I wasn't going to trouble myself enough to stay awake. Both scenarios seem fitting. I left his class (with an A) with a greater appreciation for History, an idea that learning was more than reciting rote dates and facts but rather critical thinking about the "input" one receives, and a wish that only deepened as time created more distance between the me of that time and the me today. What did I miss in the drowsy moments?
Recently, my partners and I renewed our relationship with both Mr. and Mrs. Eklund through Tex in the City. We'd exchanged a few emails over the last year or so. We were tickled to have rekindled this relationship. Both of the Eklunds were genuinely interested and hopeful for our progress.
We'll miss you, Rolf. Vaya con Dios.