Last Class...

I had the last class of my Master's career the other night. And walking away across the Winthrop front lawn, I teared up; I got a little emotional. It's like when you've invested everything of yourself into something for years, and then it's done. I'm glad to be finishing, but I really have enjoyed talking about books a couple nights a week at the Winthrop campus. I have enjoyed the people. Now it's time to move on, but to where?


All of this reminded me of this little favorite:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.


Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.


Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.



-Shel Silverstein



























now about those last two papers...