Today Dr. Jay Sheridan passed from this life to the next. I would like now to stop and reflect about the profound affect Doc had on me as an angry young man, just starting out in this world. I am a student of Dr. Sheridan’s; the class of 1983. It is because of Dr. Jay Sheridan, that I write to this day.
I would like to take this time to inform you of the influence that you had in my life. I had a hard bringing up, mostly due to my own temperament and arrogance. I did not start writing until I was about 16, for a girl, and after an unfortunate encounter with the sun. It was not until my senior year at Yuma High did I show anyone. I turned one in to you; a poem called The Wind that Whistles. It was one of the first I wrote. You validated what I hadn’t realized I could do, and that is write. You made me believe that I could actually get a thought across to another in words. I have written some 250 or 300 poems since. It was that beginning that gave me the confidence to go on writing. Since then I have written numerous reports for school, a dozen or so essays and I tried my hand at a couple of short stories. You also gave me the confidence to pursue higher education, even though I didn’t graduate from high school. You were the academic influence that I needed to make sure that my voice in this life was heard. For that I will always be grateful to you. You are the finest teacher I ever had, and one of the finest human beings I have ever met. I strive to learn something new academically every day, which I picked up from you, and the learning something new every day about life came from my father. Whether you remember me or not later, because the rabid thief of time takes from us all. I will always remember you and your influence on me as a temperamental young man, with no voice, and how you taught me to harness that voice. Thank you Mr. Sheridan for your help I appreciated it. This is the very first poem I ever wrote. I showed it to Doc for his opinion, and he gave me extra credit and encouraged me to write more, which I did. Rest in Peace Doc, you will be missed.
The Wind that Whistles.
The wind that whistles through the salty waves.
Along the peaceful sunset beach,
Up the mountain crest and amid the frozen waves,
The wind whistles like a ghostly inhabitant of forgotten lore,
Across the wasteland of forgotten unsaved souls,
The souls of men drowned in a sea of obscurity,
It savors the victory like a petulant child,
As the loser ponders his fate.
As he seems like he is the loser, but is truly the victor,
As the wind that whistles still blows.
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