The Good Old Days

This building is where I went to school. It's where I played football, and where I wrestled and ran track so I could play football. I hated those last two sports. I loved basketball, but getting slivers in my backside was not on my to do list.

I played as a freshman. This coach, who stayed two years too long during a two-year tenure, let me into a game one time.

"Don't shoot the ball. If someone passes it to you, just pass it to someone else."

I get into the game with a few minutes left. A classmate and friend, who was an incredible point guard, throws me the ball. I pass it back to him. He did it two more times, and then he shouted at me: "Shoot the ball!"

I put it up from the corner. It arched high into the air, and there was nothing but net as I scored two points.

Instantly, the coach took me out of the game. He shook his head and looked at me in disgust. After 41 years, I still hate the man. But the next head football coach was incredible, and they hired the math teacher to do basketball. It worked out well all the way around, but like I said, by that time, I didn't like getting those slivers in my gluteus maximus.

My band teacher was an idealist. He gave free lessons to help students excel at district, regional and state music competitions, and he did the same when I successfully tried out for All State Band.

I had two fantastic English teachers--Deon Hansen and Mary Zundel. Betty Crowther taught Geography without a text, but she was incredible, because it is why I learned so much about the subject. She made us work hard, and she developed materials and wrote specific things on the board for us to take notes about foreign countries and their cultures and peoples.

There were other fine people too.

I've spent the week thinking about people I met there. They shaped my life. And when I say "they," I mean classmates, teachers, coaches and other people.

It was a fantastic place to get a start in life.