"Rich as wine, the sunset flashes..."

Rich as wine, the sunset flashes

Round the tilted world, and dashes

Up the sloping west and splashes

Red foam over sky and sea —

Till my dream of Autumn, paling

In the splendor all-prevailing,

Like a sallow leaf goes sailing

Down the silence solemnly.

From "A Dream of Autumn" by James Whitcomb Riley

I saw a picture of Coaches Bob Bridge and Tim DuBois on Facebook this morning, sitting on a bench at the edge of North Miami's football field. A cluster of footballs lay on the ground beneath the bench. There they were, the true Legends of the Fall in this part of the county. Go, Warriors.  

Photo by Wendy Keim

My sister-in-law texted me the other day that four of their grandkids were in Purdue at one time. We have one at Ball State and another coaching volleyball in Texas. Only one remains in public school, and he's in middle school. My teacher kids are back in their classrooms, too. Where does the time go?

The road past the school, which stays pretty quiet in summer, crackles with activity now. You need to be careful at the three-way stop at Meridian, because too many people aren't. A bus goes past our house twice a day. I don't believe I'll ever be old enough not to love seeing it. 

The orchards are gearing up. They're busy all year, but this has to be their busiest time. Researching for a book made me aware of different apples at different times, and now whenever we drive past, I wonder which will be first, which will be best, and what will be my new favorite. 

I'm a morning person, and they have been wonderful this middle of August time. Not cool enough to be crisp, but soft instead, and the sun has put on so many free shows in the mornings and the evenings. We had the air conditioning off and the windows open for two weeks. The grass isn't very green and color is beginning to leech from the fields and the leaves on the trees, although not much yet. The corn still rustles instead of crackling. 

Birds are ramping up their suet consumption and I wonder if they're fattening for the winter. I know I am, which is a whole other story, but fall food is so good, isn't it? It's great baking time.

I realize I'm meandering here. It's been a busy week and I'm enjoying its end. I'm drinking my first cup of coffee and watching the gluttonous redheaded woodpecker hanging on the suet feeder. The blue jay, the size of a small chicken, has already been here. Neither of them wanted their picture taken and left.

It's a great day for counting blessings.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody. 

About Joe Grant by Nick Stuber

Second in the series about Coach Joe Grant. Today's post is from Nick Stuber, who knows whereof he speaks. Thanks to everyone for reading, responding, and caring. Be nice to somebody. - Liz

Photo stolen from Skyler Wilson

I believe there is power in what we say. There are a lot of narratives, statements, and words that get thrown around because people like to hear their own voice. We think speaking all the time is more powerful than saying the right thing at the right time. I'm writing this because right now is a very important time to say some really important stuff.

 
Joe Grant has been my friend and teammate our whole lives. More importantly he is like a brother to me. We grew up playing sports together and often times competed for playing time in the same positions. He could have hoped for me to fail, spoken bad about me, or tried to undermine my growth. Joe did none of those things. In 2006 we were both competing for the starting catching spot on a pretty good baseball team. Joe invited me to work out on Sunday at a local batting cage. He was quite literally one of the best teammates I've had. He’s quite literally a leader who often times cares more about the people he leads than himself.

Maybe there should be more wins. Maybe there could be more points scored. If you are solely looking for the success of a coach or a program by looking at the scoreboard you will ALWAYS miss the REAL PURPOSE of sports. It's a game. There are winners and losers. If coached properly you can lose on the scoreboard and still win in life. This epitomizes Joe Grant. Joe invests in all the kids in that school, not just the ones he coaches. He cares not only about these kids as athletes, but as people. He could settle by only focusing on making them successful athletes, and he would have done his job, BUT he focuses on building comprehensive men. Ones that not only give their all on the field, but in the classroom, in the community, and in their homes. I can’t think of one thing that this school and community needs more. His impact is beyond measure of a scoreboard and a tally of wins and losses.

He’s impacted me as a person, but also my home. Recently my family moved and we stumbled up a box of old high school keepsakes. While looking through the yearbooks, newspaper clippings, and team photos, there was one question my second-grade son kept asking: “Where ‘s Coach Grant?” Not where’s Mom, not where’s Dad, but “Where’s Coach Grant?” In three short years in my son's life he has made a huge impact on him. He loves football because of him. He writes stories about Coach Grant for writing assignments in class. He and his friends play recess football, all of this because of a man who doesn’t even work in their building but works in their lives.

He might have lost some games, maybe even some supporters, but if this school lets Joe Grant go because of a small group of unhappy people, WE will have lost way more than could even be described. Joe and Britney’s family will lose so much, his players and students will lose, and even young second graders will lose out on the opportunity to be impacted by Joe.

About Joe Grant... by Jeff Grant

I love the school up the road. I've loved it since I first went there in the seventh grade. Loving doesn't mean I never get frustrated or disappointed or worried about the way things go there. Two of my kids teach there--I worry and pray about their safety on a daily basis, as well as the safety of the kids they teach and love and support. I worry about those kids being prepared when they leave school. I don't worry about them being, to use one of my grandson Skyler's favorite words, "stellar" athletes, but am thrilled to death when they graduate as stellar people. 

Coach Joe Grant does a lot toward that "stellar people" thing. I'm going to be posting some things about him this week, written by others who know both him and the situation much better than I. 

Today's entry was written by Joe's brother Jeff. While his idea of "short and clear" may differ from mine, what he has to say is important and I'm grateful to him for sharing it. Thanks for reading. Be nice to somebody. - Liz

Ima keep this short and clear.

Fact:

On Wednesday, Joe was scheduled to have his evaluation for the fall football season with the athletic director. When it came time for the meeting both the AD and principal were present.

After a brief conversation between the principal and Joe, the principal then stated that they would not be renewing his coaching contract for next season and they would like him to resign so they could take it to the December board meeting.

Opinion:

Let me start by saying if the AD thinks that there needs to be a change within the athletics in any sport, he has every right to address it. In fact, that is his job. He’s the head coach of the entire athletic department. That’s what NM hired him to do. Knowing a little bit about the coaching world, every coach is given an evaluation at the end of each season, where the AD evaluates the coaches. Where they can list concerns, things to work on, expectations and so on. So if he has concerns there are opportunities to express them. And if he would like to not renew the contract, well I’m cool with that and in the grand scheme of things we should accept it because he was hired to be the head coach of the all the coaches and athletes.

Fact:

Joe is the NM football coach and will be until or if the school board votes him out. Normally it would work something like this: AD would make the recommendation to not renew or fire the coach to the superintendent, who then would make a decision to take the recommendation to the school board or dismiss it.

So again Joe Grant is the NM football coach until or if the elected officials on the school board vote him out.

Opinion:

I love this part! Why are we here? Was there a school board meeting? No, we are here because someone jumped the gun. Do all the school board members know about this? I know a few of them found out via Facebook just like some of you. Does everyone in the administration agree with it? I don't know, nor is that a concern to me. Because again this isn’t my job--I’m not an administrator at NM.

No, we are here because for the first time in my adult life, the NM community has halfway stood up for themselves. And the student body, “the kids,” have united and done a very respectful job of expressing their concerns, wants and needs. And I’m pretty sure the group of kids going through school at this time worldwide are facing way more obstacles and concerns than any of us have ever seen. I’m super proud of the way they have carried themselves. Shows a lot about who they have been coached and mentored by.

Fact:

Joe Grant has never received a negative mark on his evaluations. For either coaching or teaching. This includes the evaluation for this past football season.

The school board has never had any (official) discussion about removing Joe from the position.

There has never been any discussion with Joe on his program or concerns that any administrator might have had.

Joe Grant coaches three varsity sports.

Runs weights programs.

Joe Grant started a non profit that raises money for NM football players. This in turn has made playing football at NM basically free for 7th -12th grades.

Joe will have his master's (I don't know what for--something in EDUCATION) before the start of next school year.

Opinion:

I think what I think doesn’t really matter! But as an administrator at the school, if you have concerns with someone’s program, you should address the issue. Through evaluations and/or personal meetings with the coach and or staff, especially if you are former coach yourself. So again, if you are gonna fire someone--on what grounds? what do his evaluations say?--have you, as the leaders of the school, the coach of the athletics, done what is necessary to make this decision?

As a school board, you are elected officials voted on and representing the community members. This is your opportunity to ask questions, get answers and find out what really is the agenda. Is the community being well represented? Is someone going to be held responsible for this chaos? Why is North Miami the topic for the entire surrounding areas?

Why is Joe Grant having to go through this publicly?

Is this a personal attack?

In the community, I’ve heard a lot of “it’s happening again.” Well, what are you doing to help the situation?

Still opinion:

Here’s my challenge to you:

Be transparent, vocalize your opinion, and stand behind it. I don’t care what your opinion is--just stand by it and publicly let it be known. Be mindful of people. We can have a conversation and not bash people.

Here’s mine. I don’t think they will fire Joe nor do I think they should, for so many reasons. But if they do, I’ll be happy because I know he’s meant for more than being a football coach. I know that the next place will take advantage of the man and leader they have. I know that he’s done it right from day one and he will continue to do it right. I know that he’s transparent and has what’s best for the community on his mind. I know he loves his players and students. I know the man he is.

It’s funny the night I found out and we finally were alone, I gave him a hug (yeah, I know, right) and his first words were, “Well, you didn’t say I told you so.”

Ends, Beginnings, and Funny Feelings by Liz Flaherty

Our family sold our farm. The 40 acres on a corner had been in the family for well over 100 years. Although I am sentimental about virtually everything, I am not particularly so about the place I grew up. Go figure. Mostly I am happy that the person who bought the place will take care of it. He will respect and nourish the land in exchange for what the land gives back. So I'm good with it.

But the lilac bushes there on the corner where the house is were my mom's. They're big, glorious ones. I used to hide in the one there by the driveway near the old hitching post. I crawled into it so often there was a hollowed-out place in the middle of it. It is the one that bloomed in August in 2019 when my brother Tom died. I felt as if it was Mom assuring us that Tom and Dan and Christine were all with her and all was well. It bloomed again in August of 2020, and I hope it was Mom and Dad saying it was okay to let the farm go. It was time. 

There are blue spruces on the corner. My brother Dan planted them, I think. He had a way around blue spruces. 

A large rock sits there. My sister sat on that rock with her back to the rest of the world and figured out how to go on from whatever place she was in. Coming along later, I tried to use the rock for the same purpose. Didn't work. It was Nancy's rock, not mine. 

Thinking of the corner makes me ache and my eyes sting. There were five of us who grew up in that too-small house, and one little girl who died when she was only three. How many times did a school bus stop there in the 26 years there was a Shafer kid in school at Gilead and later North Miami? How many times did Mom watch us and imagine what Christine would have looked like climbing onto the bus?

Mom always kept things "for good," which is why I don't. I think she enjoyed having the things, and looking at them, while I enjoy using them. Neither way is wrong. But I remember boxes of candy sitting on the stairs at the farm (it was cold there on the steps--even colder at the top of them). I opened a box of chocolate covered cherries one time and found them collapsed in on themselves and hardened by time. That may be when I decided I wouldn't keep things, but use them. It was heartbreaking to have candy that couldn't be eaten.

Those stairs are still in that old house full of memories and things saved for good. Most of the things are gone now. We've taken them out, shared them among ourselves and given much away. We've wondered what some things were and why they were saved. Vandals have done their part, too, destroying and doing harm because...well, I don't know why they do it. I get angry about that because even in these last months of owning the farm, it was still my mother's house; it deserved respect if for no other reason than she loved it.

Maybe now, finally, I know why I've written this column this morning. It's a goodbye to the farm, yes, but it's also a thank-you to it. It's not that I was always happy there--I'm not someone who enjoyed childhood--but I was safe. I was loved. I was never hungry. It was where I learned that if you look hard enough, there is always something to laugh about. It's where I learned to be strong and to think for myself  and that no one owed me anything except whatever respect I earned.

Although selling property is always an end to something, the memories don't go away; they are yours to keep. I still hid in the lilac bush, broke the window on the front of the house--Dan dared me to see if I could throw the stick over the roof. I never said I was smart--and read 100s of books that started me on the path to writing my own.

I'm thinking about the family I grew up with as I sit here. My brothers and sisters and my parents and the ripples that came from them. Brothers' friends that I had crushes on, sister's friends who were funny and friendly and still are, and the neighbor's farm where we went every year for our Christmas tree (a dollar every year; thank you, Mr. Swigart.) 

I think of the song I talked about last week, Harry Chapin's "Circle," and once again his lyrics speak the voice of my heart. 

"But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again."

Amen. Have a great week. Seek out and treasure the memories. Be nice to somebody.

***

Anita's store is colorful, its inventory reasonably priced, and, kind of like "Alice's Restaurant," you can "get anything you want." It's a great spot for clothing, gifts, and one-of-a-kind items. The store's phone number is 765-470-2035. If you haven't been there yet, you're missing out!

 

Make memories... by Liz Flaherty

 

A re-visit this week. I ended up with more things to do than I had week to do them in. Sound familiar? Apologies for the wonky setup--Blogger isn't too friendly these days. Thanks for reading!

          I keep saying, “The hardest thing about being old is…” There’s nothing wrong with saying that, except that I finish it differently almost every time. Here’s my list for this week.

·         Your body betrays you. If you get down, you can’t get up. When you leave a doctor’s appointment, you may as well make another one, because by the end of the week, you’ll need to go back. Gravity, that wicked witch, has attacked you and taken away certain…assets you thought you had. Well, she didn’t take them away, but she certainly did put them in a different place.

·         Losing your memory. Because you don’t have it anymore and oh, boy, do you miss it. You can, of course, remember what you wore to school on the first day of seventh grade (blue skirt, white blouse, red T-strap shoes), the boy you had a crush on when you were eight (Randy), and a mean thing you said to someone in Mrs. Kotterman’s class that still makes you squirm (sorry, Suzanne). However, you can’t remember what you went into the next room for, why you had to go to Kroger’s, and the name of your firstborn if he’s the one you’re talking to. You can’t remember that you told that same story just yesterday to the—cringe—same person you’re telling it to today.

·         Losing people you love. Nothing makes this any easier. It happens more and more as you age. I remember being surprised because my aunt’s funeral wasn’t crowded because, after all, Aunt Gladys had always gone to everyone’s funeral. Oh, yes, exactly. Everyone’s. All of her immediate family and most of her friends had passed before her. Only her nieces, nephews, and younger friends were left to mourn and to share the wonderful stories she told. There’s nothing you can do about the losses; they are just a bitter fact of life.

·         Things that make you say “when I was your age…” In the first place, it’s probably not accurate. I grew up in the 1960s. No one thought any of us would amount to a hill of beans. Everyone over the age of 30 hated our music, our clothes, our politics, our protesting ways, our language, our ethics, our mores and morals, our work ethic, our hair, our movies, our books, the way we sat on the border wall around the courthouse, our sunglasses, our regular glasses, our language, our attitudes, our…oh, good heavens, I’m out of breath. Does any of this sound familiar to you? What that means, I think, is that every older generation thinks every younger generation is a waste of human flesh. And we’re all wrong.

·         They don’t make cars like they used to. I must admit, I still think there are no new cars as pretty as a 1957 Chevy, a 1965 Mustang, or a 1968 Camaro. That being said, I expect to get at least 200,000 miles out of a car now, and that wasn’t the case in “when I was your age.”

·         And that’s just the list for this week. Goodness knows what will be the hardest thing about aging the next time I talk about it.

And now, oh, yes, now comes the good part. The part where I say, “The coolest thing about getting old is…”

·         Your body still has parts that work. If you look around, you know way too many people whose do not. Often, though, they will still have eyes that sparkle, a laugh that draws you right into a warm place, or conversation that gives you knowledge you didn’t have and ideas that need to be considered.

·         Finding your memories. This does include the old ones, but there are new ones, too. Like when Duane, my husband, had a total knee replacement. Our grandson Eamon, who was six at the time, told his mother that Papaw was going to get a new leg. Eamon observed that he thought Papaw should get a new head instead. (Nana may or may not have agreed with this—I don’t remember.) The next time they came to the house, Duane was still in his recliner with his knee stretched out and when they came up the driveway, I ran and got a 22-inch zipper and wrapped it around Duane’s neck. He tilted his head to one side and we waited for Eamon to come in. The truth is, we probably marked the kid for life—he was horrified—but it also gave the family a memory we will laugh about forever.

·         The people you love. No, nothing makes losing them a cool thing, but loving them in the first place can never be taken away. Even when memories do swirl around in your mind, the love stays there.

We’ve all heard the story of the man who visited his wife in an Alzheimer’s unit every single day. “Why do you do that?” someone asked him. “She doesn’t even know who you are anymore.”

“You don’t understand,” said the man, “I still know her.”

·         Things that make you think (not say) “When I was your age…” You may not know this, but the music in the 1960s was the best music there’s ever been. I saw on Facebook the other day when some millennials were chortling about senior chords and talking about how silly they were (as opposed to parachute pants, I assume) and I just remembered how much fun they were. Fifty years after the fact, I still regret that I didn’t have any.

·         Cars. I like remembering when those coolest-cars-of-all were new and even my own Camaro—an '86 not a '68. But mostly I like my SUV that’s easy to get in and out of, the GPS that finds me every time I get lost, and the fact that my seven-year-old car with its 135,000 miles is still on its second set of tires and its second set of brakes.

So, yeah, right the second time. There really are parts of aging—of being aged—that are crummy. And lots more parts that are just the coolest thing.  

     Have a good week. Stay safe. Make memories. Be nice to somebody.