Misdirection
May 22, 2012
I often arrange my days so I can see their sunrises and sunsets; so I have seen more of them, and paused longer over them, than most people I know. But in spite of the large number I’ve seen, I still have some favorites.
Without question, my most memorable sunrise was observed this past January as I stepped out on the balcony of a hotel room in Panama City, cup of coffee in hand, and watched a huge, red-golden sun rise out of the Pacific Ocean. That’s right, the Pacific!
I was in one of those relatively rare locations in the world where the Pacific Ocean is located east of the Atlantic Ocean.
Nearby, great ocean-going ships were traveling east through the Panama Canal in order to reach their western destinations more efficiently.
And beneath the ocean surface, the trim tabs of the huge ships’ rudders were being turned to the left to help the ships steer right, and to the right to help the ships steer left.
Sometimes it is quicker or more economical or just more acceptable to go in one direction for awhile in order to reach an ultimate goal that’s in the opposite direction.
Dad's Day
April 23, 2012
Today is my father’s 92nd birthday.
Until my wife replaced Dad as my best friend, he doubled as both my best friend and father.
Dad has been inducted into 13 halls of fame nationally, and in Iowa where he was a two-time undefeated state high school wrestling champion, and in Wisconsin where he was a two-time Big Ten wrestling champion for the Badgers before a stellar career as high school and college coach, especially in football and wrestling. All that before his 29½ year tenure as executive director of the Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association.
For two decades Dad chaired the national high school wrestling rules committee, and he traveled nationwide to conduct wrestling rules meetings for coaches and officials in states where local expertise in the sport had not yet developed. It is not a stretch to call him the father of high school wrestling. Certainly no person had greater influence than he during the sport’s formative years on the high school level.
And no person had more influence over my formative years.
So it is becoming increasingly painful to observe my father falter, as all people do who live as long as he has. Simple tasks require an increasing amount of assistance; significant talks fill a decreasing amount of our time. It is agonizing to one who has adored him.
When Dad served the WIAA, his sharp mind and strong voice would make him a top choice to address the toughest topics at National Federation meetings. He received the National Federation’s Award of Merit and is a member of its Hall of Fame.
But perhaps the most meaningful memory I have of Dad’s professional life occurred at his retirement event in late 1985 when the person representing the state’s coaches said this: “John. We may not have agreed with your every decision, but we never once questioned your motives.” There can be no higher praise.