Extra Effort Pays Off For Plants - And Teens

Last July we planted a couple of bushes in the front yard. They were gallon-sized barberry plants we bought on sale at Eagle.

Soon thereafter, we went on vacation during a heat wave. We had remembered to tell the house sitter to water the lawn but had forgetten to tell her about the new plants.

When we returned home, one bush looked over-cooked. The other looked burnt to a crisp. I attempted to resuscitate them with daily watering. Within a week, the over-cooked bush sprouted a few new leaves and, after two weeks, I knew it was going to make it. The crispy bush still looked, well, crispy, so I bought a new one to replace it.

I wore a black trench coat in high school.

Intensely lonely, depressed and alienated, I also hung around with teens whose stories were not unlike those of troubled teens today. We called ourselves The Group and our members came from families where one or both parents were absent, fathers were violent or abusive, or moms and dads were married in name only. My friends and I spent most of our time together wherever there were no adults, usually at Todd’s place, up among the avocado groves of Hacienda Heights, Calif.

We lived on junk food and we talked about high school, sex, and pop music. We thought we were different. We thought we were better and smarter than everyone else - especially our parents.

Since we met through music classes, we made music together, too.

Fortunately for us, our high school music teacher was encouraging, patient and kind, trusting us enough to give us important parts in musical productions and concerts. He treated us with dignity and respect, and he gave us many opportunities, including letting me arrange and conduct music for the band and girls chorus at my graduation ceremonies. I took it all for granted then.

Now, thinking back 30 years, long after his premature death by a stroke, I finally understand and appreciate the impact of his efforts.

It is hard to imagine what we would have done with our angry feelings if it had not been for him.

None of us were great musicians, but he gave us respect, an identity, and a place and a way to focus our energies. It helped keep us out of trouble.

While I lost track of my friends over the decades, I do know we all struggled in the years immediately after high school.

I eventually went on to earn a master’s degree in music composition and became a published composer.

For some reason, I held off replacing the burned-up bush in the front yard and kept on watering it for what seemed like weeks.

Miraculously, a few, tiny new leaves appeared, almost obscured by dead foliage. Two months later I had a completely restored and healthy plant. Today, the two bushes are almost indistinguishable and the bush I had bought as a replacement is growing in the back yard.

It is all too easy to write off the disaffected. Sometimes their behavior encourages that and the media makes it easy to do so.

It is so easy to love the lovely and teach the teachable.

I am grateful to those who go the extra mile, who reach out and encourage those with deep emotional wounds. It is no guarantee, but it can profoundly affect the lives of many.

To all the teachers who care about such kids today, and to those who cared about me 30 years ago, especially Mr. Lloyd Darnell, I offer my heartfelt thanks.