Last night as I tucked my oldest into bed I reached for our weathered copy of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass and thumbed through looking for something that might capture my 8 year old's heart and imagination. I struck GOLD with this one:
O CAPTAIN! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! Dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
-Walt Whitman
I read this poetic story slow and sure, looking up into Caleb's dark eyes after every stanza or two. How wonderful to see him engaged and obviously moved. It reminded of the time I read him another sea story. Saved at Sea by Lamplighter Publishing was one of the first novels I read aloud to my boy. I pray I never forget his response as a ship, just a few miles off shore began to sink. A young boy and his grandfather who kept the lone lighthouse nearby had come out in a dingy to do what they could. A mother on board wrapped her toddler in linens and tossed the bound child down into their boat. The boy and his grandfather pulled hard their oars back just in time to avoid being pulled under as the great ship sank. Caleb was five and tears filled his eyes then spilled over.
While Caleb has all of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books and reads through them time and again, I'm trying to purposefully fill his heart and his bedside table with stories that will not only make him laugh but cry as well. I've not done this before, this whole raising boys to men thing, and I'm certainly no expert, but I'm sure of this... tears of compassion are a necessary ingredient as we attempt to raise good men.
If we want them to be moved toward the causes of justice and fight the evils of injustice one day, they must be able to feel. Deeply. And passionately. Stories of Captains and their faithful followers (O, Captain, My Captain), teachers departing wisdom into the lives of orphaned children (Little Men), and a boy fighting for the good of a Trumpeter Swan (Trumpet of a Swan) lead them there. The last novel he read was The Last of the Mohicans and Caleb was able to articulate that the main theme of the book was sacrifice. "All of the good characters were willing to sacrifice their lives to save another... I would risk my life for a friend or a brother" he said.
GOOD LITERATURE. GOOD LESSONS. GOOD BOY. GOOD GOD!
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