I don't like to brag. But sometimes events take such a revealing turn that someone has to rise up to trumpet it out to the uninformed world. Unfortunately, in this case, there is no one to lift up the horn but me, and, even more unfortunately, the tune that I must blow is about none other than myself. I have heard the cliche that tooting vun's own horn is verboten but, mother, excuse me, I must fly in the face of cliches today.

Bap-budda-bah: I've been teaching one thing and another, from flutemaking to women's studies to acting to how to know yourself. It seems to me I've been at it since I lept out of the womb. Some would say even before. And for my efforts I've been praised, paid the expected pittance and been soon forgotten, except by some few. I've taught kindergarten, every elementary grade, every high school grade, through college, post-grad, on streetcorners, in churches, in the fields, even in a school of my own making.

Bap-budda-bah-buh-baah: Running alongside my pedagogical pursuits there was, and has always been, a spiritual striving.To put it blandly. I really mean, I have tried to free myself of what is false in me. I have tried mightily. And now, at last, in my life's eleventh hour—

Bap-budda-baah-bapbudda-bapbudda-bapbudda-baaaah: the town I live in, variously referred to as New Paltz or New Platz, this town, nestled in the Hudson Valley, beside a river that flows north like the Nile, this town, in recognition of my superlative teaching ability and my high spiritual attainments has asked me to teach........PICKLEBALL !!!

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