Year: 2013

A Tribute to the High School Band Director

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

The Mr. Hollands in our lives deserve an opus

With your music stand a pulpit,
your baton a shepherd’s staff,
you led your students daily
with stern words and belly laughs.

Yes, you modeled truth through music
by the way you loved the kids
as they looked to you for answers
lest they end up on the skids.

With marching band your metaphor
you helped each section see
just how to work together
and to be a family.

Like Richard Dreyfus’ Holland
you invested in the young
and the dividends you’re earning
is success’s highest rung.

Mr. A, you’re most successful
for the music you have made
echoes far beyond the band room.
It’s an ongoing parade.

Marking time or earning millions,
those you taught (now fully grown)
march through life most confidently
making “music” of their own.

* This tribute was written for Steve Accatino. I first met “Mr. A” exactly 30 years ago when our family moved to the Bay Area. Last week Steve retired from Ygnacio Valley High School where he has been the band director for thirty-three years. High school band directors are a much-loved breed. I kept in touch with mine for thirty years until Mr. Huber prematurely died of a brain tumor. (If you never play in a high school band, you need to watch “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” That inspirational movie will clue you in!)

Praying for Paris

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Michael Jackson’s little girl is in big trouble

Transparent eyes cannot disguise
young Paris’ inner ache.
When Michael died his princess cried.
She thought her heart would break.

For four long years she hid her tears
while flashing us a smile.
But masks can’t hide what bleeds inside
or cover up its guile.

Grief’s haunting ghosts if left to boast
can lead to suicide.
But gratefully she lived to see
she failed (although she tried).

Lord, save this child by life defiled
and drown her wish to die.
May Paris find Your heart is kind
with love that never lies.

A Prayer for High School Graduates

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Talking to the Almighty about our children

Almighty God, the Scriptures remind us our children are a gift from You. With holy awe and a sense of wonder we received these priceless treasures gift-wrapped with potential. In no time these miniature persons were kindergarten-bound, where they found just how much there was to learn. But You helped them, Lord. You fed their curiosity and infused their little minds with big thoughts.

As they matriculated year after year from elementary school through middle school, we marveled at their ability to make the grade. Gratefully, You bolstered their self-confidence when bullies attempted to undermine their self-worth. And then, as they entered high school, You looked on as they focused on maintaining a high GPA with an eye on the colleges of their dreams.

And now here they stand on the threshold of adulthood. Won?t You walk with them, Father, as they pass through this wide-open door? In many ways they seem adequately prepared to embrace the opportunities and challenges that await them. In other ways, they still resemble those little tykes we sent off to school so long ago with their big backpacks. Now as then, they have cause to fear what is so unfamiliar. Please protect them.

Grace them, God, with a thirst for knowledge and an appetite for understanding. As they continue to calculate facts and figures, help them translate the truths they encounter into attitudes and actions that guard the dignity of others. In their grasping of wisdom, may they open their hearts to those in need. Give them compassion and humility as they stand up for those put down by society.

Heavenly Father, as their capacity for understanding Your world expands, increase their ability to know You and trust Your plans for their lives. Amen.

A Prayer for Oklahoma

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Interceding for tornado victims

It’s not OK in OKC
for Moore is less (it seems to me).
Less joyful and less confident
that life will turn out good.

The winds of chance blew tragically
destroying much that used to be
and in the process stole the lives
of victims young and old.

As Oklahoma grieves its dead
and groans in unexpected dread,
a watching nation blinks back tears
and bends its knees in prayer.

O God, who hears each pleading cry
and aches with us when loved ones die,
be near to these who’ve lost it all
and must continue on.

Restore their will to stretch and reach.
Reveal Your truth to those who preach
that hope rekindled will renew
the faith of hurting souls.

Servants of the Most High God

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

A tribute to hospice nurses

When death knocks
and life’s clock
ticks in slow motion,
it’s easy to tell the time.
But it’s difficult to accept what it says.

That’s when hospice nurses
make their way
to the line of scrimmage
for the final minutes of the game.

They know that beating the opponent
isn’t possible
and yet they make the most
of the little time that’s left.

Tackling whatever is necessary
they clear the way so that you can
make your way into the end zone
with head held high
and faith clutched tightly to your chest.

They’re the best
(though they are often the unsung).
They are heroes of the dying
(and those living who stand watch).
They are angels of mercy, shepherds of grace,
guardians of dignity
and servants of the most high God.

* This poem is dedicated to Tricia who was my dad’s hospice nurse when he died in 2008.