mathew stucki's memories
I have always enjoyed the writings of CS Lewis and admired his demonstrations. Pleasant and positive...
When I was a young man in Castle Valley, I was around 13-years-old and faced the typical challenges of the teenage years: peer pressure, need for acceptance, fitting in, self esteem, courage and other significant emotions. Sometimes when school was particularly challenging I would feign sickness, so I didn't have to go to school. Realizing that I would have to face-the-fire eventually didn't deter me; at least for one day I had a bit of a reprieve, and I found security and safety among my family. Other times I helped around the farm like you hear about in former times when the children were needed to complete important seasonal work at home and on the farm. I look back to some of the challenges, which seem silly now, but we're so very significant then. For example, my mother made me a sack lunch and placed it in a brown paper bag, which I faithfully took to school despite the oddity it was at the time. No one in the visible schoolyard took a sack lunch but me. We didn't even have a lunchroom or table and chairs where I could sit out to eat my midday meal. So I found a spot on the school grounds in there I said it to consume the lunch made by my mother. That was hard, especially in middle school. But what made it even more difficult was the things I would find in my lunch: carrot sticks, an apple, a piece of cornbread, and perhaps a cucumber—not the typical fare you might share with your friends. But I knew of the sacrifice it was to provide these things, so I ate them faithfully nonetheless. No, decades later, I've come to realize the importance and significance of my daily diet. Dad woke up very early to milk the cows from which the butter and cheese were made. Mom baked delicious whole wheat bread for my sandwiches and labor diligently in the garden to provide cheese milk, lettuce tomatoes peppers and other delicious vegetables cucumbers for my sandwich. Now a quarter of a century later I still relish the memory of those carefully-made sack lunches. They meant I was loved and safe, well cared for and protected--emotions I hope today for my own children.
I just dropped my 16-year-old daughter off at high school and remembered a fun experience as we parted ways. Since my own father drove the school bus to and from Castle Valley, he would be there in the bus as I left for school. So I would naturally give him a hug and kiss and tell him I love him as I disembarked. What other students were thinking when they saw that didn't really matter. What mattered is that I had the chance to give my dad a hug and a kiss every day before school and that did matter—it mattered to him and it matters to me, especially all these many years later.
When I was a young man in Castle Valley, I was around 13-years-old and faced the typical challenges of the teenage years: peer pressure, need for acceptance, fitting in, self esteem, courage and other significant emotions. Sometimes when school was particularly challenging I would feign sickness, so I didn't have to go to school. Realizing that I would have to face-the-fire eventually didn't deter me; at least for one day I had a bit of a reprieve, and I found security and safety among my family. Other times I helped around the farm like you hear about in former times when the children were needed to complete important seasonal work at home and on the farm. I look back to some of the challenges, which seem silly now, but we're so very significant then. For example, my mother made me a sack lunch and placed it in a brown paper bag, which I faithfully took to school despite the oddity it was at the time. No one in the visible schoolyard took a sack lunch but me. We didn't even have a lunchroom or table and chairs where I could sit out to eat my midday meal. So I found a spot on the school grounds in there I said it to consume the lunch made by my mother. That was hard, especially in middle school. But what made it even more difficult was the things I would find in my lunch: carrot sticks, an apple, a piece of cornbread, and perhaps a cucumber—not the typical fare you might share with your friends. But I knew of the sacrifice it was to provide these things, so I ate them faithfully nonetheless. No, decades later, I've come to realize the importance and significance of my daily diet. Dad woke up very early to milk the cows from which the butter and cheese were made. Mom baked delicious whole wheat bread for my sandwiches and labor diligently in the garden to provide cheese milk, lettuce tomatoes peppers and other delicious vegetables cucumbers for my sandwich. Now a quarter of a century later I still relish the memory of those carefully-made sack lunches. They meant I was loved and safe, well cared for and protected--emotions I hope today for my own children.
I just dropped my 16-year-old daughter off at high school and remembered a fun experience as we parted ways. Since my own father drove the school bus to and from Castle Valley, he would be there in the bus as I left for school. So I would naturally give him a hug and kiss and tell him I love him as I disembarked. What other students were thinking when they saw that didn't really matter. What mattered is that I had the chance to give my dad a hug and a kiss every day before school and that did matter—it mattered to him and it matters to me, especially all these many years later.
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Family history
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Gardening
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