angels

hi everybody (both of you),

have been thinking lately about how i've never really done anything completely on my own. all along the way - for whatever route i've taken - there has been someone there to challenge, to help, to mentor, and guide, to judge, cajole, inspire, etc. this is a tribute to those who have somehow helped me in my journey/pilgrimage.

to Steve Olafson - meeting you in pre-K (at the optimist club bldg on market street), i really admired your gray hush puppy shoes - and i even remember telling you AND your rather unceremonious response. you have been a continuous source of inspiration through the years. you were the first mysterious person i ever met in the flesh - deeper than any other kid i knew. you were wry and dry and had a mischievous side. you were a stellar athlete and student and i always regarded you with fascination and wonder and questioning awe. I am so glad that we are still friends and i can see you occasionally. thanks for sharing your humor and wit with all of us via your blog "the brazosport news." as you are the first documented blog martyr, it is an honor to dedicate this paragraph to you.

To Donald Smith - 2nd grade is where we first met. i really liked to hear you laugh so i would take every opportunity to make that happen. what you really did for me though was give me a benchmark for artistic excellence and achievement. As an eight year old you drew as an adult would. i remember the exact picture that you drew that convinced me that i needed to really work a lot harder. it was copied from our reader - a boy in a white sailor hat was startled to see a raccoon climbing into his bedroom window. it was startlingly real - a flesh and blood boy with a real-looking mouth, eyes, nose, hands, arms, etc. that's what really amazed me as i was so used to depicting hands as round balls with sticks for fingers. the moment i saw your drawing i knew i wanted to be an artist and stop messing around with childish renderings. thank you Donald, wherever you are now.

to Bo Denson - you taught me how to throw a football in the third grade. you matured into a fine athlete but i clung to what i knew. thank you, Bo.

To John, Paul, George, and RIngo - my life would never be the same, thanks to you mop-tops.

To Ann Herbert - you were the one who convinced me to even regard the beatles. You were a most rabid fan. Remember the ticket to "a hard day's night?" it was specially printed in yellow and was very large. you brought it to school as it was an advance ticket. i couldn't go because my mom wouldn't let me spend a dollar on a movie (regular films were 35 cents). i had to wait until that summer before i could see AHDN. thank you too, ann, for being a model artist as well - your specialty was horses.

there were the teachers at James Bowie Elementary that i found inspirational and friendly:

Miss Hunt -supreme 1st grade teacher. i actually met you as a kindergartner. My sister had you as a teacher and i fell in love with you - your southern lady manners and poise and wonderful perfume. Loved being around you. Still have a picture of you and me - taken when i was visiting your classroom in the spring of 1960.

Mrs Miller - you dated my dad in high school but didn't hold a grudge. Thanks for being a great 3rd grade teacher

Mrs. Painter - a great place to call home was your classroom. what a fourth grade class we had - with steve O. ann herbert, andy wismar, jack hunt, jenny carroll (first girlfriend and first girl i kissed - in second grade), sandy wilson, steve yeager, richard mcgilvary, joe woods, to name a few. i remember late in '64 - toward the end of the school-year - you announced that you had "a winner!!" You kept a number of books and pamphlets on the north-side countertop. You had written on a file, "read me" and inside you had placed some money - $5? $10? Can't remember, but i do know that Ann Herbert won that money. I've been tempted to have that same sort of contest for two of my non-reading children, but it's a bit late, isn't it?

Mr Coltharp - football playing Baylor grad, you were my first male teacher and you raised the bar. i really enjoyed my time with you. Was glad that you opened a book store on texas avenue - i believe with Mrs. Waddell. You eventually went to work for the state of texas dept of education - or some such agency.

Mr. Boatman - was only with you for half a year, but it was awesome. You were so smooth-talking and great with us. You left at mid-year to become a principal and your student teacher, Robert Foster, was given the reigns. The baton was passed. I remember a teary-eyed saturday when i helped you pack up your stuff and load your car. thanks for letting me help a legendary educator.

Mr. Foster - you were awesome in your first teaching position. We enjoyed your class immensely. Ran into you years later when i was working at the culpepper furniture warehouse. you had quit teaching to work for Humble (exxon). i was sad to hear you say that. i remember during lunch one time (i always sat with you), i was imitating one of the other teachers on campus. you stood up, took me by the arm and were escorting me to her classroom so that she could see it for herself - i was terrified, but on we walked, with me trying to talk you out of it the whole way. Thank God you were bluffing as we headed back to the cafeteria!!

There have been angels of interference out there - in the eighth grade when i was continually bullied by colby tipton and ricky forse, i would occasionally have a stronger angel (or two) emerge from the shadows to send them on their way. thank you Jay anderson for seeming to always be there when i needed. You were the only guy i knew who kept paperback books in his pocket. you were always, always reading. i wonder where you are now and if you still like to read as much. i hope so. Rest-in-Peace, Colby. Was sad to hear that you passed away a few months ago. Had just visited with you last year when i went to the funeral home at the passing of your mother.

Ms Wheatly - you were a great teacher for me to meet in the eighth grade- you single-handedly salvaged my most horrible year in school. Your speech class gave me a reason for being and i relished every assignment and every deliverance. if only i could've pulled off the speech for the city-wide competition in the spring of '68. you encouraged me to deliver, "the conservation of roaches" as a serious, persuasive speech. what you heard had been impromptu and i never really wrote any of it down. the day of the competition, i still couldn't re-enact the spontaneity or maintain the cadence of the original and the judge - a rather grim black man who saw absolutely no humor - ensured that i came in last. oh well. maybe that was your intent all along.

Stay tuned for more sentimental ramblings in my next post. all the best to you all.