Rest in Peace, Mr. Button.

(From his 1989 induction into the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame:

Robert Lockwood Button, the first high school teacher to be inducted into the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame, has been the adviser of The Tower, the award-winning Grosse Pointe South High School weekly newspaper, for more than 23 years.

The success of his students is perhaps the best testimony to his excellence in teaching, and his quiet suggestions and good- humored nature foster a learning environment in which students can – and do – excel.

During the summers he is in demand to teach at journalism workshops across the country and continues to sharpen his skills as a copy editor and reporter for the Detroit Free Press. He is also the author of 12 handbooks and several articles on scholastic publications. His inspiration extends to other publication advisers. Larry Mack of Jackson High School said it best: “Bob just never lets up; his dedication to excellence in journalism, his absolute love for the challenge of education young journalists serve as a model for us all.”

When Great Trees Fall

By Maya Angelou

When great trees fall, 
rocks on distant hills shudder, 
lions hunker down 
in tall grasses, 
and even elephants 
lumber after safety. 

When great trees fall 
in forests, 
small things recoil into silence, 
their senses 
eroded beyond fear. 

When great souls die, 
the air around us becomes 
light, rare, sterile. 
We breathe, briefly. 
Our eyes, briefly, 
see with 
a hurtful clarity. 
Our memory, suddenly sharpened, 
examines, 
gnaws on kind words 
unsaid, 
promised walks 
never taken. 

Great souls die and 
our reality, bound to 
them, takes leave of us. 
Our souls, 
dependent upon their 
nurture, 
now shrink, wizened. 
Our minds, formed 
and informed by their 
radiance, 
fall away. 
We are not so much maddened 
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance 
of dark, cold 
caves. 

And when great souls die, 
after a period peace blooms, 
slowly and always 
irregularly. Spaces fill 
with a kind of 
soothing electric vibration. 
Our senses, restored, never 
to be the same, whisper to us. 
They existed. They existed. 
We can be. Be and be 
better. For they existed.