Bill Lee

In the movie “Forrest Gump” there is a scene where Lt. Dan is on the top of a ship’s mast in a raging storm shouting at God in anger. He is doing this because of his frustration with a life situation that caused him physical and emotional pain. In this scene, he challenges God to “Come on! Show me what you’ve got!” or something to that effect though I do not remember the exact line.  And just after this is said, something happened to which Forrest Gump, who had been witnessing this verbal outburst observed, “And just then, God showed up.”

Well, Friday afternoon in an unexpected way and time, God showed up at our home to reaffirm to me and Anna that He will indeed show up when we may least expect it and in the most unusual ways.

While Anna and I were in the living room on Friday afternoon, looking at some family pictures and trying to select the ones we would use in the services for Mike on Saturday, she began to play some old video tapes she had found from years earlier when she and Abby were about 7 years old. Then she found other tapes from years in the past in which Ashely, the twins, many friends and family members, Mike, and I were shown in a variety of family activities. While viewing these we laughed a lot, shared a tear or two and reminisced about the good times shown on these tapes.

On one of the tapes, there was a segment from when Anna was elected as the state Jr. Beta Club secretary for Florida. When she was serving in this office, she was sent to a leadership training conference in Charlotte, NC for a week. While at this training, she met and became fast friends with a young lady from Mississippi named Caitlin Churchwell. At the end of the week they actually cried when they had to leave each other and promised to stay in touch. But unlike most of these types of quick meetings, they in fact did remain in contact with each other. They talked on the phone, sent emails and messages and before long, they were talking about visiting with one another.

Over the next 5 or 6 years, they remained in contact, became very good friends and visited each other often. Mike and I attended Caitlin’s graduation from high school and her parents came to Anna’s graduation. As I said, they were really close friends.

But alas, as often happens in life, they had a little squabble or disagreement, had some hurt feelings and basically lost touch with one another for several years.  I am not sure of all of the reasons behind this but suffice it to say that both probably had some responsibility in the matter.

Anyway, as we were looking at the photos and videos on Friday, when the one came up with the Jr. Beta Club events on it, I casually asked Anna if she had heard from Caitlin lately. She responded that she had not heard from her but thought Abby had received some contact from her via Facebook at some time in the past couple of years. She had not talked to her, seen her, nor had any type of contact at all since the misunderstanding years earlier.

After a few more minutes of looking at phots and videos, Anna got up, went to her room and put on her swimsuit to join the other family members and kids that were out in the pool swimming.

About 30 minutes or maybe as much as 45 minutes later, Prissy the dog and resident warning signal for our home, ran to the back door barking. I looked out the door and saw Caitlin Churchwell and her mom walking toward the pool out from under the car port.

When Anna spotted Caitlin, she immediately came up out of the pool crying and ran to her and they embraced, holding onto each other. It was a moment of pure shock, astonishment, surprise or any other word one could use to describe an amazing, unexplained, maybe unexplainable manifestation of God showing up when we least expected it.

After the initial interaction with one another, they came inside and visited with us for a while, catching up with one another. They talked about a lot of stuff but mostly just enjoyed one another’s company for a while and hearing about their families and jobs with both of them being married now with children and both of them working in education. When it was time for them to leave and continue on their journey home, once again the tears flowed and the hugs were long and tight.

With the passing away of my wife on Tuesday, June 19, 2018, the last week has indeed been one of the darkest hours or times of my life and in the lives of our children.  But this incident of God sending someone back to us in our time of need serves to remind us all of His great love for us.

In witnessing this event, my heart was filled with the spirit of God as He once again reminded me of His ever present love for us and revealed His grace to us in a totally unexpected way. This was in fact a beautiful reminder to me and Anna that God will never leave us nor forsake us even in our darkest moments of life.

“Where Corn Don’t Grow” by Travis Tritt is one of my favorite country songs. It tells the story of a young man getting ready to leave home and spread his wings. As he is preparing to leave, he asks his dad does he ever dream of a place “where corn don’t grow?” meaning does the father ever think of a place where trouble, hard work, and the everyday challenges of life are not an ever present reality.

The wise father tells the boy, “Son, I know at your age you think this old world is turning slow. But, hard times are real and there’s dusty fields no matter where you go.” , hands the boy an old pocket watch, gives him a hug, and watches him set off for some place “where corn don’t grow” with tears in his eyes.

Then the song relays several times over the years in which the now young man experiences “hard times and dusty fields” along the road of life in the big city, eventually getting into trouble with the law and ultimately coming home with a new perspective and having realized that the words spoken by the father many years before were true.   The song reminds me greatly of the story in the Bible of the prodigal son who also wanted to spread his wings and go out on his own only to ultimately realize his mistake and returning home a broken man with nothing except his life.

But maybe the real story in both the song and the biblical story is the role of the father who tried to give  their best advice to their children, only to have the advice ignored with the resulting “hard times and dusty fields” being experienced.  In both cases, the fathers welcome home the children who have experienced the hard times and dusty fields, both much wiser men than when they started on their journey.

As a father myself, I can identify with the feelings of the fathers in the two examples. I tried (and still try on occasion) to give my adult children and now my grandchildren thoughtful, good advice, hoping to help them avoid the hard times and dusty fields of life. Sometimes the advice has been received and followed while other times it has been ignored with the resulting “hard times and dusty fields” showing up just like in the song.

Now before someone says, “Well ain’t he just the most self-righteous person in the world acting like he is the most wise, all-knowing person around giving advice.”  I can guarantee I also ignored lots of great advice about “hard times and dusty fields” from Quincy and Gertrude Lee a few years back and most assuredly would have been better off at times to have heeded their advice.  But, just like the young man in the song, I too discovered that indeed there are dusty fields where ever one may live.

My mom used to tell me that every tub has to sit on its on bottom. I believe the meaning she had in mind when she said this was we as humans are a hard headed and stubborn kind of beings and do not really learn as much as we should from the experiences of others.  Heck, we often do not even learn from our own mistakes or lessons, much less learning from watching others.

But our desire as parents is to help our children, grandchildren, and others we love avoid experiencing hard times and dusty fields.  Thus the dispensing of advice, solicited or not, as they strike out on their journey of life, wishing we could open up their heads and just pour the advice into them with the same understanding that we possess which, ironically, was most often gained by experience and not by having been told by someone.

So, when you have chance to give out a little well intentioned and thoughtful advice to someone, don’t be too surprised if they do not fully acknowledge or heed it.  Though our desires, especially as parents, is to help our children avoid all of the hard times and dusty fields of life, we are just not wired that way. We tend to learn best from our own experiences in spite of the desires of others that we learn through their mistakes or knowledge.

Hope you all have a great week. Stay out of them dusty fields and hope you do not experience many hard times in the days and weeks ahead.

Glad to announce that my 2nd book School Lessons Beyond the 3 R’s has been sent to the publisher for review and I should be getting the proof copy back in just a few days. Once I have received this copy and had a chance to review it and make any corrections needed, it will be completely finished and read to distribute.  Thanks to lots of folks for their encouragement and help, especially my friend and great American Bobby Newsom for doing the art work on the project of the historic Bonifay Elementary School and historic Holmes County High School.   Will post more info when the proof has been received and copies will be available.

One of the best teachers that I ever had the pleasure of working around was a lady by the name of Barbara Howell.  She was a math teacher extraordinaire who I believe could teach a turnip green to do math.  I also found out one morning in a pretty convincing way that she was deathly afraid of mice.

At the time of this incident, Barbara was working as a curriculum specialist for part of each day and teaching upper level math classes for the remainder of the day.  On this particular morning, she and I were engaged in a discussion just inside the door of my office about some math curriculum issue.  We were deeply engaged in this discussion when it all started with no warning what-so-ever.

My office door was located at the end of a hall adjacent to another door that came out of our data processing room.  Unbeknownst to me and not visible from where I was standing, a small mouse came running out of the data processing room, turned the corner down the short hall and came into my office.  At the sight of the mouse, in the middle of a sentence and with no indication that she was about to take action, Barbara Howell let out a blood curdling yell, jumped about three feet straight up into the air, landed on a coffee table, jumped from the coffee table onto a couch, and sprinted across the couch to the corner of the room all in a matter of about 3 seconds.  Upon arrival in the corner, a couple of more hair-raising, chill-you-to-the-bones yells came from Barbara while she was dancing a jig on the couch.

While all of this was going on, I did not have a clue as to what was happening or what had caused Barbara to levitate from the area of our conversation to the coffee table to the couch and cutting the rug while loud, piercing, screams were pouring forth from her mouth. All the while, unbeknownst to me, the mouse was still on the move.  In a reflex reaction to Barbara’s screams and antics, I started to move myself because I knew something was going on, I was just not sure what.  That is when fate took over.

As I took a step to move toward where Barbara was up on the couch, the mouse ran right under my large size 12 foot.  I did not see him or even know that he was there. He just happened to be there, by a stroke of seriously bad luck, when my foot, with all 275+ pounds that I weighed at the time attached to it came back to the floor.

When my foot came down, I felt this little crunch under it and lifted my foot up.  There he was! DRT!!!  Dead right there!  I have often heard that mice could flatten themselves out when trying to escape.  Well, this one was flat alright!  Just not by his own doing.  All the while, Barbara was still letting out those high pitched screams and dancing a jig on my couch.

When she saw what had happened, she ceased dancing the jig and came down off the couch to check the situation out a little closer.  She recognized right quick the cause of her angst was no longer a threat.  He was, as they might say at the funeral home, gone to that great mouse land in the sky.

Well, when we had time to catch our breath a little, we began to laugh at the whole situation. From the time that Barbara first spotted the mouse until the time that he was DRT, it could not have lasted more than 10 seconds or so, maybe less. The execution, if that is what you would call it, was not a long, drawn out affair.

We shared the story of the great mouse encounter with folks around the school and we all had a good laugh about it for the remainder of the day. When I left the job as the principal at Holmes County High School a year or more later, there was still this little brown stain in the carpet at the scene of this “mouse meets his maker” incident.  Just looking at it from time to time reminded me of the hilarity of this brief encounter between the mouse, Barbara and me.

I suppose most high schools have that one teacher whose reputation is passed from one grade to the next or even to several lower grades with tales of “woe be unto you” when you have Ms. or Mr. Whoever for whatever class they teach.  These tales of what to expect are retold from class to class with each retelling helping to confirm the stories as told must be true and consequently insuring the legend continuing to grow through the years. Mrs. Mable Harris was one of these teachers at Holmes County High School.

Ms. Mable taught English to every senior who passed through the halls of HCHS for many years. I am not sure exactly how many years she taught at HCHS but let me just say she was there for years before I came through school and was there for many years after I graduated. She taught my sister Janis, who was 6 years ahead of me, my brother Silas who was 3 years ahead of me and then my class of 1971 graduates. If my records are correct, she taught at HCHS for over 35 years and during that time touched the lives of thousands of students in a positive way, mostly teaching senior English but also other subjects and grade levels along the way.

Ms. Mable was one of those teachers whose reputation was actually pretty close to reality. What you had heard about her for years was about what you got when you were finally a senior and taking her English IV class. This reputation included among other things that she was a very demanding teacher who expected you to come to class prepared for the work of the day with little tolerance for foolishness and misbehavior. She expected you to be a participant in the class activities, contribute to the discussions, answer questions if called upon and generally to be involved in the learning process. If you went to class unprepared, let’s just say it was going to be less than a good day for you with Ms. Mable.

Back in the days when I was in school, grading periods were divided into six week segments with a total of six grading periods during a year with each semester containing three six-weeks. Students earned a grade for work completed each grading period with a semester exam at the end of each semester which was a cumulative test of knowledge gained over the entire semester with those four grades being averaged together to determine one’s semester grade.

Let me just say for the record here, the grades you got in Ms. Harris’ senior English class were dang well earned.  If my memory serves me correctly, I believe I ended up with a high “B”, maybe even a low “A” for her class. But, no matter what the grade was, I was prepared for my next educational experience in English when I entered college. Though her class was not titled College Prep English, it should have been.

As a normal part of the curriculum, we studied literature of various types and eras with an emphis on American and English literature with some of the required readings being the classics from these literary collections. For many of us, the introductions to these works were our first real exposure to some of the great classics of literature complete with information about the authors, a review of the time frames when published and discussions of societal influences when the pieces were written. Ms. Mable would lead us in deep discussions about the symbolism in the works, ask us to write papers or essays about the characters and their individual strengths and weaknesses, and make us defend or justify our opinions or observations about these characters.

For me, it was a great learning experience in being expected to be a critical reader of literature for a deeper understanding of humanity, human nature and the value of literature in revealing how different events, times, cultures and societies have helped to shape the world throughout history.

Of course, one of the other requirements for senior English was the completion of the dreaded “Senior Research Paper.”  Of all the rumors, tales and stories about Ms. Mable’s class, this one was perhaps the most repeated and most dreaded and the one that caused the most apprehension about her class.  The senior term paper was always assigned for the first six-weeks after Christmas vacation and indeed took the whole 6 weeks to complete. My gosh what a major undertaking this was for us mere mortals of the English language!?

I can still recall the morning we started the process by being given a list of topics on which we could do our research paper. Ms. Mable had maybe a hundred different topics from which we could choose to do our research. She gave us a couple of days to select our topic and then we got started with the project. For most of us, this was our first project which required major research, preparing numerous note cards to support our research conclusions, citing sources, doing a works cited page or pages, and learning how to use the American Psychological Association format for preparation of a research paper. During the research time we made many trips to the school library and even took a day trip over to Chipola Junior College in Marianna, Florida to use their library to help with our research.

As we began the process, we were required to turn in our note cards, a rough outline, a refined outline, more note cards, and works cited pages. We wrote several drafts of the paper with each of these being submitted to Ms. Mable for comments, corrections, and/or suggestions. A few unfortunate souls were made to start completely over in the early stages of these rough drafts being turned in. All the while, the date to turn in the completed research paper was posted on the chalkboard in her room, looming over us daily like some dreaded coming plague. As we moved toward the deadline, some students were right on schedule, some of the high steppers were ahead of the various due dates and some of us, perhaps most of us, were dragging around and staying one step ahead of disaster.

Once all of the drafts had been graded and corrected, it was time to prepare the final completed paper and turn it in to Ms. Mable. It had to be typed, double spaced with footnotes in the correct format on the bottom of each page and a works cited bibliography page of all the works used as references in the completion of the paper. For those of you older than dirt like me, may I remind you of the absolute joy of trying to type a term paper with correct spacing beginning to end, no typos, no misspelled words, no erasure marks, correct spacing on footnotes at the bottom of a page, correct format on the works cited page or pages down to the last comma and parentheses, all placed neatly in a bound folder with title page correctly spaced from the top of the page, your name, the class name and your class section or period, with the date completed. All in all, a really fun and wonderful experience for a group of 17 and 18 year old students, especially the males.

For those of you many years younger than me who know nothing about producing a paper without the aid and availability of a high powered computer with a really good word processing program complete with spell check, automatic spacing, auto underline, bold, cut and paste, and all other types of features, you have no idea of the pure agony experienced in trying to get a paper completed in an acceptable format with only an old fashioned typewriter. Anyway, once the senior term paper was completed, it seemed to be all downhill from there until graduation.

Earlier I spoke of how business-like Ms. Mable was in all of her dealings with students. She was serious about her class and expected no less from her students. Only once did I personally experience her wrath when I did not meet this expectation. First, some background information for better understanding of this encounter.

While I was a student at Holmes County High School, I guess it would be fair to say that I was firmly entrenched in the “Jock” society at the school. I had played sports since my early childhood and upon getting to junior high school and continuing throughout my school career, I was an active participant in the sports programs at school. I played all of the major sports–football, basketball and baseball. I was a starter in all of these and suppose I was a pretty good athlete.  Not bragging, just background on my level of involvement in sports at the school.

But with Ms. Mable, though proud of her school and supportive of all of our school programs, it did not carry any weight in her class that either I or anyone else would put our other interests above her class. When the bell rang for senior English and if we were at school, we were expected to be there.

However, one fine day in the fall of the year, my basketball coach asked me early in the morning if I would like to help him put a new coat of varnish on the gym floor in preparation for the upcoming season. Without hesitation, I jumped at this opportunity to spend the day in the gym, helping paint the floor with Coach Dodson and a couple of other players. I did not ask about getting a note from him to miss my other classes and I did not go and check with any of my other teachers. He had asked me to help and as far as I was concerned, I had permission from a teacher to help with a project and I therefore, stayed in the gym the entire day helping him. Now this really was a fun time, unlike the term paper mentioned above, and I had a heck of a good day.

The next day, when it came time for English, I strolled into Ms. Mable’s class with not a thought about any trouble brewing. It did not even cross my mind that there was a problem looming – just another day in school. But, somehow, in the way things work at schools, Ms. Mable had become aware of the fact that I had skipped her class the day before and had the audacity not only to skip her class but also to do so to paint a dad-blame gym floor! To say she was not pleased would be a gross understatement.

Ms. Mable, though a giant of an English teacher, she was, shall we say, vertically challenged, standing somewhat less than 5 feet tall. This did not matter as dynamite does indeed come in small packages. Then as now, I stood in at a rather tall 6 feet and 4 inches in my stocking feet so I towered over Ms. Mable by about 18 inches.  But on this particular day, when I entered her classroom, she began by asking in a very demanding and disturbed manner where I had been the previous day. Not knowing that she already knew the answer to the question, I innocently answered truthfully about where I had been and what I had been doing.

When she heard my answer, she began to speak rather harshly to me in tongues of a foreign nature (or at least it seemed like it) and in just a moment, she was face to face with me and in my space. I am not really sure if she snatched me down to her level or climbed up me like a step ladder but either way, we were eyeball to eyeball with her doing all of the talking. Something about how dare I skip her class for any reason, much less to paint a gym floor, informing me about the zero or zeros I had earned and basically letting me know that I had insulted her and would pay dearly for any future such acts of total irresponsibility. I might add that this was done in front of the entire class with no thought in her mind about causing me any undue embarrassment or worrying about my psyche. She was all business and made it known to any and all present what a transgression I had committed. My total contribution to this discussion was to say “Yes, mam, yes mam.” several times.

Well, I survived the wrath of Ms. Mable for this transgression and I did not have any other major issues in her class that I remember. I completed the year with good grades and was proud to have learned a lot during my time in her class.

In looking back, she was definitely one of those great, strong teachers I had that helped me to be prepared for college and life after high school. I am proud to have had the opportunity to learn from Ms. Mable. I am glad she was in our small community for many years helping many young folks prepare for the road of life.

Fireplaces, Gas Heaters and Winter is Coming

I was six years old in the winter of 1959-60 at the time we moved into the new house. This new home for the Lee family was on the same spot as the old house my grandparents had built shortly after they had moved onto the place around 1912. The old house was the exact representation of the one sang about in the old southern gospel song “Ain’t Gonna Need This House No Longer” in that it allowed in lots of wind, maybe leaked a little with rusty hinges on the doors, old windows, cracks in the floors and only a fireplace for any kind of heat and the breeze blowing down the halls for any type of cooling.

Anyway, the new house was very nice with tightly fitted doors and windows, new hardwood and knotty pine tongue and groove boards throughout the house for floors except for the kitchen and bathroom which had tile floors, knotty pine walls of 4 inch, 6 inch and 8 inch boards on all the interior walls and ceilings of white tiles in all rooms. To say the least, the interior of the new home was light years ahead of the old house.

But there was one little detail that was not much different than the old house. That was the manner in which the new house was to be heated. Because just like the old house, the main source of heat for the new house was a fire place in the family room. Other than this, the heat for the house consisted of the following – a very small propane gas heater in the one bathroom and a gas heater in the living room which, along with the dining room, we never used and a gas heater in one bedroom. This bedroom was supposed to be for mom and dad, but alas, my dear sister Janis got this room with heat and mom, dad, and my brother Silas and I were in the other two bedrooms with no heat in them.

So, during this first winter in the new house, the only real source of heat for the family was the fire place. As my brother and I were the best sources of free labor around, we had the chore of helping to chop firewood and bring it to the back porch and stack it for ready access. We also had to help chop the kindling wood or “lightered splinters” which were used each and every time it was necessary to start a fire.

Going out to the wood pile and loading the old wheelbarrow with firewood and hauling it to the back porch each afternoon was one of those chores we were expected to do without having to be reminded every day. Wow be unto us if dad went to the back porch to retrieve wood to start a fire either in the morning or evening and there was no wood on the wood pile.

I can remember many times during the winters in the house standing close by the fire turning in circles and warming up in my pajamas and then running down the hall and diving into bed, snatching up the 2 or 3 quilts on the bed while still a little bit warm and snuggling down for the night. I can also remember waking early in the mornings on some of those cold winter days with only my nose and face sticking out from under the covers and breathing out smoke or misty vapor and running down the hall in the other direction to stand in front of the roaring fire my dad had built before leaving for work trying to get warm. During the winter, this was also the place we would get dressed in the mornings before school, bringing our cloths out of the bedroom and holding them up to the fire to get warm before donning them.

As Silas and I got older, we also became expert starters of fires in the old fireplace. Dad made sure to show us all the tricks of using lightered splinters as the kindling and laying the firewood on the tops of the splinters just in the right manner to get them burning quickly. We learned what types of wood to use, making sure it was dry and seasoned before it was ready to be firewood. We also learned what types of wood would crackle and pop and shoot little embers out onto the hearth with pine and pecan woods being the worst to do this it seemed to me. During these times, I can remember how the fat lightered splinters would ooze with the turpentine coming out, black smoke surrounding the splinter just before it burst into flame and the smell of the lightered wood burning bright hot yellow and red. I still love to smell fat lightered burning in a fireplace or around a camp fire.

During either the 2^nd or 3^rd winter in the new house, at mom’s insistence dad finally installed another propane gas space heater in the living room and kitchen area which we could use to have immediate heat in the mornings instead of having to build a fire. However, until I left home at the age of 20, there was still no heat of any kind in the bedrooms of the house other than the one room. After I had been grown and gone from home for several years, mom and dad finally had central heat and air installed in the house.

As I write this, it is getting late in the month of November 2017 and we have hardly had any cool weather so far, much less having any cold weather. But, back in the days growing up, it seems to me we had a lot more colder weather than we do now. Maybe it is just in my mind or maybe it does not get as cold as it did back then. I do know that I can remember many days of football practice in November in the late 1960s and 1970 when it would be dang cold out there and remember playing in Baker, Florida one night in the 1969 football season when it was below freezing when we kicked off.

My home today has central heat and air in it like most others of this day and age, and if it gets below about 70 degrees, my wife and I start whining about “freezing to death” or “being so cold I can hardly stand it.”  We have even been known to light a fire in our own fireplace when it gets below about 40 degrees outside to help supplement the central heat in the house or break out an electric space heater and plug it in to knock the chill out of the air.

Alas, we, like the great majority of people living in America these days, have become very soft in our ability to cope with anything that infringes the slightest bit on our comfort. Hard to believe how quickly we have become a nation of whiners and crybabies following the generation of our parents and grandparents and the hardships they endured.

Winter is coming soon. Hope your central air is working and you don’t have to chop much firewood to stay warm.

World Series Has Begun Again

The World Series began last night. Though I do not watch a whole lot of baseball during the regular season anymore, I do like to tune in to the games each fall when the series begins. I am not really pulling for the Dodgers or the Astros but glad to see 2 really good teams who have not been to the series in a number of years square off.

I guess my enjoyment of watching the World Series each year goes way back to my childhood when it seemed the series was the most important sporting event of the year. Back then, me and all my buddies would root heartily for our favorite teams and baseball playing heroes during the fall classic each year. This was the ultimate conclusion to having played little league during the summer, spending many Saturday afternoon watching baseball broadcasts with Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese calling the games and following the pennant races throughout the summer until time for the series to begin.

Back in the day, all of kids who played little league here in Bonifay were on one of four teams, all coached by the local high school coaches as a part of the summer recreation program. The teams during these years were sponsored by The Bank of Bonifay, Bowen Hardware, Bush Auto and Tri-County Telephone Company.  All games were played after school was out for the year in June and early July and seems like the games were on Monday nights and Thursday nights, two games per night. We played each other about 4 times each for a total of a 12 game season, the league champion based on the best record. At the end of the season, there were no all-star games, no going on to tournaments anywhere, and the concept of travel ball was about a half century away in time. I am also pretty sure that every player did not receive a trophy just for being on the team though I guess my memory could have failed me on this point. However,I do not recall having a trophy for participation on the shelf in my bedroom at home.

One of the great things about baseball is the continuity of the history of the game. Back then before free agency, players played their entire careers with one club. In addition, there were only 20 teams total in the majors, 10 in the American league and 10 in the National league. So, it was not unusual for teams to have fierce rivalries with one another. I can still recall how much I hated the great Baltimore Orioles teams of that era because they were rivals of my Yankees. Same thing for the Boston Red Sox and the Detroit Tigers.

Each generation of kids can recall the great players and teams from their era and we all are sure that our players and teams were the best ever. Based on the statistics of the various eras, each generation may have a valid argument.  Were the ’27 Yankees with the Babe the best team ever? Maybe the Yankee teams of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s were the best of all time with the great Joe DiMaggio Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, and Whitey Ford. What about the Big Red Machine of the Cincinnati Reds of the ‘70s with Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, and Tony Perez? Or heaven forbid, maybe one of the more modern teams of the last 10 or so years would be the best of all time. This argument for the best of all time can go on forever with no way to settle the dispute.

For me, my team was always the great New York Yankees of the 1960’s. I can still name the starting lineup for them from this era:  Catcher – Yogi Berra or Elston Howard; 1^st base  Joe Pepitone; 2^nd base – Bobby Richardson; 3^rd base – Clete Boyer; SS – Tony Kubek; LF – Tom Tresh; CF – Mickey Mantle; RF – Roger Maris; P – Whitey Ford, Mel Stottlemyre.

Anyway, back to watching the series. During the 1960’s when I was a kid in school and really into watching the World Series, all of the games were played during the day, only on one channel and would often start at 1:00 p.m. Many times I can remember someone bringing a transistor radio from home to school during the series to try and listen to the games between classes. I also remember a couple of times when one of the coaches would bring a portable TV to the gym and set it up, complete with tin foil on the rabbit ear antenna and let us watch the game if we happened to have physical education class during the time of the day when the game was playing. I might even recall some certain young fellas sneaking up to the gym to watch the games when they were supposed to maybe be in science or social studies class.

I guess from these early years of loving to play baseball with my friends, watching the game on TV and then finally watching the World Series each fall, I have just come to look on the fall classic as one of the simple pleasures of life. Baseball fan or not, it is a part of American culture.

If you are a fan, I hope you enjoy the games.

I am writing tonight on a subject that I know nothing about. I hope that I never know much more about this than I know right now. For the only way to truly know about this particular subject would be to experience it as a parent or immediate family member and I pray that I am spared of this. The subject of which I speak is the untimely or unexpected death of a child at any age.

This subject has been on my mind for some time now as a life-long friend and her family lost a child to a battle against cancer a few weeks back. The battle was a long one, the finality of the ending not necessarily unexpected but tragic in any way it can be said as they watched their precious child dying before their eyes with nothing to be done by them or medical science to prevent the inevitable. This has to be the most difficult of human experiences with no possible way to explain this loss to your heart in a manner that satisfactorily answers the question of “Why?”

Why my child? Why did my child have this horrible disease? Why was there no cure available for my child?  Why did my child have to die in the accident? Why? Why? Why?  No answers come, only the tears, memories and desires to hold them one more time.  Again, this is a subject I know nothing about on a first hand basis and pray that I never do.

But, I have witnessed it too many times over the years with friends and loved ones. These lost children have happened by diseases such as cancer, automobile accidents, drownings, ATV accidents, a horse riding accident, and even homicide in one particular family. In each and every one of these, I asked the “Why?” question to myself over and over with no answers from anywhere forthcoming.

Many of the deaths of children of whom I became aware happened during the years I was the principal at Holmes County High School and Vernon High School. These two schools lost more than 20 young people who died unexpectedly during the 22 years I was the principal. In every one of these losses, there was a giant hole left in the family that could never be filled. Though the passage of time allows for some healing of the wound, the hurt and heartbreak of loss is ever present. In speaking with many of these family members over the years, it is a pain that is always there. I will say again, I pray this is a pain I never have to understand firsthand.

In my upcoming book, I have included several essays on some of these tragic losses in an attempt to put into words the impact these had on the families involved and the entire community. Of all of the essays I have written for inclusion in the books, these have been by far the most difficult to write and have taken me back to some of the worst days of being a principal.

In closing, the recent passing of the child of my friend was the 3^rd child that I can remember that has lost the battle to cancer in the last few years. Each of these was heartbreaking to me as a friend of the families to witness this terrible disease take the life of a loved one.

But even in tragedy, the power of love comes through. I have seen one of these close friends that lost a child offer love and support to others in their loss by serving as a nurse. I have seen many of her posts on Facebook over the years celebrate the life of her baby and expressing thanks for the time that he was with her and looking forward to a grand reunion one day in the future.

In the case of the latest loss, I have read with much emotion the postings of her father, sharing some of the great times that he and his child had together as she was in the middle of the battle. He has shared family photos of trips taken during the times of her illness. He has shared some funny events that happened in their travels. The love he has shared for all to read is heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. And like my other friend, he expresses his desire to see her again one day in the future for a great reunion.

So, I will close with this. Life is full of unexpected and unexplained events, both good and bad. I am pretty sure that we as humans on this old earth will never have the answers to all of our “Why?” questions. However, I am very sure that our great Creator does know the answers to all of our “Whys?” and hopefully we will gain a better understand of these at the great reunion in the sky one of these days.

In the meantime, pray for those who have suffered these losses of loved ones and let them know you are thinking of them. God bless you all.

I am a fan of Clint Eastwood and enjoy watching movies in which he has starred over the years. In particular, I like watching his “Dirty Harry” movies of which there were several in which he played a tough, no nonsense police detective in San Francisco. In these roles, he always would have a catch phrase in the movie which made their way into the verbal fabric of America at the time such as “Go ahead! Make my day!” and in another one him saying “Marvelous!” to some idiotic act on the part of someone.

In one of these movies, his catch phrase was “A man has to know his limitations.”  This quote became my own catch phrase for the events described in the memory shared below.

People who work in the public schools of America have the opportunity to interact with an interesting and diverse group of people.  Some of these people give school teachers and administrators unique opportunities to serve the needs of their fellowman in ways beyond academics.  This is especially true in high schools with students that are “special” in terms of their educational needs.  One such child that I had the opportunity to work with was a young lady by the name of Sadie.

Sadie was indeed a “special” child that afforded those of us who worked with her numerous opportunities to expand our understanding of the workings of the human mind.  Among these opportunities is this one that involved her physical well-being while at school.

Sadie was known to be a student that would have need to visit the school nurse on occasion if you can call going to the nurse at least 2 or 3 times a week occasionally for a variety illnesses, both real and imagined.  These illnesses ranged from true sicknesses such as fever, colds, and stomach aches to more questionable maladies such as undocumented heart problems.

On the day of this particular incident, during the lunch hour just as I was getting ready to go to the lunchroom, the secretary buzzed my office with the report that Sadie was at the front desk requesting to see the nurse again.  She also reported that Sadie had already been up to see the nurse two or three times that morning complaining of fever, a head ache, an upset stomach, bad sore throat, and maybe a couple of other symptoms.   The school nurse had checked her each and every time during these visits and found no problems.  She didn’t have a fever and her throat did not show any signs of infection.  According to my secretary, the nurse could not find anything wrong with her other than her usual need to just be seen and also told me the nurse was out to lunch at the time.

So, in a moment of brilliance, I decided to see Sadie myself and try to treat her problem.  After all, I was an old physical education teacher, had some experience in first aid and treatment of a variety of illnesses, understood the human body pretty well and felt sure that I could help cure her current ailment. I told the secretary to send her in to see me.

When Sadie entered my office, I thought, “My gosh!  She really does look sick.”  She was walking all bent over at the waist, sort of shuffling along, barely able to put one foot in front of the other and looking to be in severe pain.  She had to look of a sick person but I had seen this act before from her.

I said to her, “My goodness, Sadie. You don’t look like you feel so good.”  She replied in a low voice, seeming to be in pain, “No, sir. I don’t feel so good at all.”  As she told me this, I noticed that she was making up and down motions with both of her hands along the side areas of her lower abdomen.

Then I asked the question that I should not have asked.  I said to her, “Well, what seems to be wrong with you today?”   Without a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “Mr. Lee, my ovaries are hurting me so bad I can’t hardly stand it.”

Whoa!!  This was too much information.  I recognized right quick that I was totally unprepared to treat Sadie for this particular illness.   Like the catch phrase from the movie, I fully understood my limitations in regards to treating this illness of Sadie’s. Old physical education teacher or not, this was way out of my area of certification.

I immediately said to Sadie, “You need to go see the nurse about that!” and pointed her towards the door.  I then picked up the telephone and told the secretary that Sadie needed to see the nurse for the type of illness that she had.  I explained to the secretary the nature of Sadie’s condition and told her that I was totally unqualified to treat that particular illness.

I burst out laughing about this little foray into the treatment of Sadie’s illness. A man has to know his limitations and I knew mine.  The thought crossed my mind there are reasons doctors specialize in different areas of medicine and I recognized right quick I was way out of my area of expertise.

I was looking at my site and realized it has been over a month since I last posted a blog. Been pretty busy with the starting of school and such. But, the last few days have caused me to have a few random thoughts on a number of subjects, some totally unrelated to others about life, health, priorities, and the difference age (or I guess it is that, may be just me) makes in some of these. So, with not much forethought and very little planning here goes.

1. I could really go the rest of my life without watching another NFL football game and not feel deprived, especially if the players continue to disrespect our nation as a whole like has been happening.
2. Having good health or loved ones having good health is pretty high up on my list of “wishes” for the next few years if the Lord blesses me with continuing to live.
3. I pray that my grand baby in waiting is born healthy with 10 fingers, 10 toes, a great brain, and among her first words will be “Pa!”
4. The old adage of Mark Twain saying “Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it!” rang true for Texas and Florida in the past few days. Thankful that we did not have any major damage around here but so sorry for all of the people who were impacted by Harvey and Irma. Massive amounts of damage that will take years to heal.
5. Mankind can think that we control of lots of stuff but when it comes to the really big stuff, God still is in control and though we certainly don’t understand why things happen like they do, we should at least acknowledge His omnipotence. I believe when he said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: I AM has sent me to you.” has not changed in the last few thousand years or so.
6. I got to visit with a long time and great friend for a few minutes last night who has had some serious health issues in the last few weeks. Glad I stopped by and realized again, friends, family, loved ones and relationships are among the most important parts of life.  Most of the other stuff is just that – stuff.
7. Traffic on I-10 when people are fleeing ahead of a storm and returning after the storm passes is unbelievable.  Needs to be about 8 lanes wide with lots of gas stations at every exit with gas available.
8. Athletics is not nearly as high up on my list of priorities as it used to be. In fact, except for a good bit of interest in watching FSU if they are on TV, I can honestly say I could go for a long time without watching sports on TV or in person. Would rather read a good book or catch mess of bream in Holmes Creek.
9. ESPN is now a network for political hacks from the far left, not sports.
10. I continue to be amazed at how some people have lived to be older than a tadpole when they do some of the stupid stuff I have seen and/or say some of the stupid stuff they say.  Just one example from a couple of days ago – A person was quoted as saying this was the worst time to be alive in the history of mankind with Donald Trump as the President. Reckon this poor idiot has never read any history of the world including the plagues of Europe, about either of the World Wars, Normandy and D-Day, the brutality of many empires of the ancient world, Stalin and the killing of millions, and on and on and on.

Anyway, as I said, just random thoughts from the last few days. Hope you all have a great rest of the week and weekend.

Last thoughts – Working hard on the next book with an editor right now. Will post another excerpt in the next few days.