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Change for Worse

November 25, 2014

I recall a toaster that was handed down from my parents when my wife and I were first married and in need of everything. It was already an antique, but it worked just fine, popping nicely browned bread with efficiency.

Some years later, we handed that toaster down to another generation; and we have missed its iconic look and quick, quality performance. No toaster we’ve had since has matched that model.

Recently we purchased a new dishwasher to replace one that was at least 25 years old. The new appliance is advertised as more energy efficient, with the features now required by the government in order to be more environmentally friendly. But the fact is, it runs twice as long and works half as well, often requiring a second wash to adequately clean the dishes.

You would think these earlier disappointments would have taught us; but even more recently we purchased a new washer and new dryer . . . energy efficient, of course . . . with all the required environmental improvements included. But again, the washer runs twice as long as the model it replaced. The dryer does too, and the clothes remain damp after repeating the maximum drying time . . . twice.

All of which proves the point that change is not always good.

People who proclaim that the world is changing and that we must change too are not always on the higher ground. Change is as often bad as it is good; and change often needs to be confronted, and thwarted.

Much of the change that has come to our homes has not improved our daily lives. Much of the change that has come to our schools has not improved the quality of education our children receive. Much of the change that has come to school sports has done much to harm and little to help educational athletics.

We must ignore the hype and point out the pitfalls of the shiny new products and promotions. Saying “No” to change is sometimes the boldest and best leadership we can provide for school-sponsored sports.

In An Instant

August 4, 2015

The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.

My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.

Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.

What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.

A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.

I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.

We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.