lookingback_memories

While searching through an old keepsake box for pictures of my teen years, I discovered something I thought I had lost. In the bottom of the keepsake box, underneath an empty potato chip bag from a Herman Hermit’s concert in the mid-’60s, was a poem. It was given as a gift many years ago. Gently lifting the folded piece of paper, I recalled the impact it had on me as a young girl. Even though it remained tucked away through the many phases of my life, the words of the poem are as clear in my mind today as it was the day the author read it to our class of 9th graders.

The poem was typed on a manual typewriter, then printed using an old mimeograph machine. The ink has long ago faded. The paper that was once a bright white has now turned to the color of soft candlelight. There is a tear across the corner of the top edge.

Sitting on the floor, I tenderly unfolded the paper and began to read the words once again, line by line. As tears ran down my face, I understood the meaning of the poem so much more than I did as a young girl. Through the words of the poem, I see the heart of the author, his love for his students and life itself. But here he was facing a change in life, and it meant leaving behind a part of himself. He wrote this poem as a gift to his students, but the gift was not the words on the paper as I thought so many years ago. It was much more. It was his heart, given day after day, moment by moment, and I am sure there were days it was easier to give than others. As I looked at the faded words on the page, I realize that the man who was my ninth grade English teacher gave more to me than just a love for literature and writing. He gave his heart.

There is a part of the poem that touched my heart many years ago but I didn’t fully understand the depth of his words until now.

“The world looks bright today from out my room,
But soon it will be empty as the darkest tomb,
‘Tis sad that I shall never retrace these steps again,
Nor share the laughs, smiles, heartaches, and grins.

Yes, memories are like footprints on the sands of time,
They may be erased but our lives to them we bind,
Memories! Memories! Memories! How my life to them cling,
And my heart beats loud until my soul doth sing.

The desk is silent now, the room is quiet, except for soft sunlight,
The moon comes up at dark and kisses the empty room by night,
But gone from the room is all noises of human sound,
As this teacher’s footfalls no longer rebound.”

I consider Mr. Freeman one of the giants in my education journey. I don’t know where he is now, what other roads he has taken in life. But if I could find him, I indeed would thank him for the poem but more than that, I would thank him for loving and teaching his students about life, and through example, showing us that giving your all to something makes a difference.

Thank you to Mr. Gerald C. Freeman, the 9th Grade English Teacher at Greenwood Jr. High in 1966, the author of this poem he so lovingly named, “Memories.” I wonder if he ever knew what an impact he made on so many young lives? If you went to Greenwood and he was your teacher or had an impact on your life in some way, leave a comment below. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, he or someone who knows about him, will see this and will be thankful that his time at Greenwood made a difference.

UPDATE: With the help of my Jr. High school friends, we were able to get in touch with Mr. Freeman’s wife. Sadly, she let us know that he passed away in 2008. We extend heartfelt sympathy to his family.

After speaking with Mrs. Freeman, I learned much about Mr. Freeman and his family, what they have done through the years in ministry and missions. He was a great man who lived a life on purpose. He completed his journey and left a legacy that will never be forgotten. He was an inspiration to all who knew him.

Mr. and Mrs. Freeman had a daughter, Joy, who was killed in an auto accident in 2013 at the age of 17. She, much like her parents, had the heart for missions. If you are on Facebook, please go LIKE the page for the ministry, “The Hands of Joy,” that provides and enables missionaries to Costa Rica. To be a missionary and serve the people of Costa Rica was the desire of Joy Freeman. There are several ways you can be a part of this ministry and help continue the love of missions that is the heart of the Freeman family. “GIVE JOY TO GET JOY! A ministry of Costa Rica Missions”


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