Category: Memories

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My Friends in Winterset

Winterset, Iowa is quite a special little place. I am blessed to have several friends there – so I was so saddened when the news last night reported that a devastating tornado hit the little town yesterday afternoon. Actually I guess “friends” is a vague term – none of these friends I mentioned would actually even know my name or remember me at all….

Perhaps I’d better back up and start again….

Winterset is a small town of just over 5,000 people, located south of Iowa’s capital city of Des Moines in rural Madison County. There are a lot of great things to see and do there, and I’ve visited Winterset on several occasions…..but I will tell more about that another time.

Today, I am thinking about my friends…

I met my friend Bob on my very first trip to Winterset several years ago. I stopped by the Chamber of Commerce to see if there were any brochures, maps, or information they might share about touring the area sites. The young lady behind the desk enthusiastically told me that the best way to be introduced to Winterset was through one of their city tours if we had the time (typically about 2 – 3 hours). I immediately asked if we could schedule a tour for that afternoon. She smiled, thought for a minute, and said she would check with Bob, one of their tour guides, to see if he was available. Fortunately he was, and that afternoon I had a personal tour of the area with Bob – learning so much about Winterset – it’s history, points of interest, the people, businesses, and the culture. Early in the tour, we drove past a nice brick home on the right that sat back off the highway a bit. Bob not only pointed out that it was the home where he and his wife lived, but also told us about the home in detail – very proud of the life they had created there together. He was charming, enthusiastic, informative, and fun. When I heard the tornado yesterday had gone south and east of town, I breathed a sigh of relief. Bob’s home is located north and west of the city center.

Another friend in Winterset is a sweet lady who works at the John Wayne Birthplace Museum. I have visited the museum on two or three occasions through the years, and she is always behind the counter selling tickets and souvenirs. She is originally from the Springfield, Missouri area where I lived for over ten years – and we always visit about places and people we have in common when I’m there. I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her smile and her kindness.

On the city square, there was a very nice little boutique that I visited a couple of years ago. The owner was very kind and we chatted comfortably while I shopped – talking about Winterset, Branson, MO, her future plans to open an AirBnB upstairs above her shop…..it was such a pleasant afternoon. I took her business card (which I unfortunately have since misplaced) and told her I would call to see if her AirBnB was available on my next trip to Winterset.

My last friend is definitely the most unique and perhaps the most special – because we have never met at all…. Let me explain. My Mother and I were traveling home from a trip to Minnesota on I-35 one day and veered off to have lunch at the Northside Cafe on the Winterset city square. After lunch, Mother sat down on a bench outside for a few minutes….and unknowingly left her cell phone lying there when she walked away. We were an hour or more down the road before we discovered it was gone – and had no idea where it could be. Mentally retracing our steps as we drove along, we thought perhaps it could have been left at our table in the Northside cafe or on that city sidewalk bench. Calling the Northside first, no phone was located. Remembering the Chamber of Commerce office was down the block a ways from where Mother had sat, I searched for the number and gave them a call. The lady who answered was very kind – listening while I explained our predicament, then telling me to hold on while she went down the street to search. After several minutes, she was back with Mother’s phone in her hand. She took down our address and promised to put the phone in the mail to us the next day. I told her that I would send her a check for her trouble, but she refused saying she was glad to be of help. She gave me her personal cell phone number in case I needed to contact her. The next day, I received a text from her letting me know the phone had been shipped.

Each of these friends made an impression on me. Their kindness, their enthusiasm, their personalities are memorable to me…I said a prayer for each of them and their families yesterday evening and again this morning…..because they touched my life. They are my friends. I have no idea of their political affiliations, their religious beliefs, or their backgrounds. I just know that they are my friends, their community is hurting, and therefore I hurt with them.

One of my colleagues posted a question on Facebook a few days ago – “When are we going to realize that we all belong to the same human race?” It’s a powerful and profound question, Beth – and I hope we figure that out soon.

Matthew 22:37-39 Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

John 13:35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

I Corinthians 16:14 Do everything in love.

I John 14:19 We love because He first loved us.

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Thank you, Mrs. Swofford

We often do not realize the long-lasting impact we have on others….

Each of us affect those around us – either positively or negatively – every day, many times without even realizing it.

When I was 9 years old, I was a 4th grader at Berryville (Arkansas) elementary school. My teacher that year was Mrs. Mary Ellen Swofford. The year before, when I was a 3rd grader, I had feared Mrs. Swofford, hoping and praying many times that I wouldn’t have her for a teacher. A trim, petite lady, she always wore neatly fitted dresses and matching heels that clicked briskly when she walked down the hall. You always knew when it was Mrs. Swofford coming – even before you saw her – by those clicking heels. She was a no-nonsense teacher, and had high expectations for students’ behavior, attitude, and efforts.

Entering 4th grade, my fears were realized when I saw that in fact I did have Mrs. Swofford as my teacher. Those fears quickly faded away as I got to know her however, and she remains to this day one of my absolute favorite teachers.

In late September, this lovely “changing of seasons” time of year we are in right now, Mrs. Swofford started our day by printing the word autumn on the chalkboard. She wrote slowly and carefully, building our anticipation as we students saw the care and simple artistry she put into every letter. She chose to use the old fashioned style on the letter “a”, a style still utilized in type print today but rarely seen anymore in written form. We had no idea why she was writing the word, but she definitely had our attention. The room was quiet as we waited in anticipation. When she finished, she turned to us and said, “Isn’t this a pretty word? I’ve always thought it was such a pretty word to see in print – and I think that fits so well because autumn is such a pretty time of year. Some people call it “fall”, but I’ve always preferred to use autumn because of the way the word looks when you write it and sounds when you say it. It’s just so much better, don’t you think?”

autumn

That was it. That’s all she said. We moved on – getting out our paper and pencils and beginning our school work for the day. Mrs Swofford left that carefully written word on the board for the remainder of the week, and I would look up at it throughout the day and my 9-year-old mind would think, “Wow – that really is a pretty word!”

It was a simple act – but it taught me several valuable lessons.

Our choices of words matter. Language (both spoken and written) is an art form.

Printing and handwriting can be artistically beautiful.

Celebrating beauty every day brings joy – whether it’s the changing of the seasons, the smile of a friend, or simply a beautiful word written on the chalkboard.

This year marks my 46th autumn since that day in Mrs. Swofford’s classroom – and every single year I still remember that simple word written on the chalkboard and the lesson she taught us.

Thank you, Mrs. Swofford.

Author’s Note: I knew Mrs. Swofford had passed away last year, so at the last minute I decided to look up as I was publishing this post. Ironically, she died one year ago today – September 28, 2020.

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The Cotter Bridge

Have you ever been to Cotter, Arkansas?

If you don’t live somewhere near Northwest Arkansas or Southwest Missouri, the answer might be no…and that’s too bad….because it is definitely a little place worth exploring!

When I was a little girl, my Daddy worked for a company called Ozark Sash and Door owned and operated in Springdale and Berryville, Arkansas by the Hanby family. Before the days of the big box stores, there was a hardware store of some type in most every little community. Daddy traveled a regular route weekly through Missouri and Arkansas, selling building materials to those little stores. Sometimes, Mother and I would ride with him…

On Tuesdays, his route took him from Harrison to Mountain Home, with many stops in between. Traveling the old 62 highway back in those days took us across the Cotter Bridge…

The old bridge is unique in many ways. Sitting high above the White River, it is beautiful with its patented rainbow arches and lighted lamps. As a little girl however, crossing the bridge was fun for another reason. When on the bridge headed toward Cotter, a large, old railroad trestle sits to your left, angling diagonally toward your path. It intersects the Cotter Bridge just at the end, crossing underneath at the last minute. Sometimes, a train would be chugging across that trestle bridge just as we, in Daddy’s truck, were driving across the Cotter bridge. It was always exciting – looking just a tiny bit like we were surely about to collide with the train (in my little girl’s mind). It was a little bit scary – and lots of fun!

The Cotter Bridge has an interesting history. According to the Encyclopedia of Arkansas, it was completed in 1930. Originally operated as a toll bridge to recoup construction costs, it allowed east-west travelers a reliable White River crossing. Ferries used previously were often unavailable due to frequent flooding in the area, and the closest detour crossing was 100 miles to the north in Branson, Missouri. Designed by the Marsh Engineering Company in Des Moines, Iowa, the graceful structure is still beautiful today.

When highway 62 was rerouted near the turn of this century, a new bridge was built just a short distance to the northeast. Thankfully, the old bridge was preserved and remains open to vehicle traffic for anyone who likes to veer off the beaten path.

All these years later, a visit to the Cotter bridge is still something I enjoy. I make the drive over several times a year…it’s a great little day trip. Beneath the bridge, there is a pleasant little city park on the banks of the White River. Big Springs Park is a relaxing gathering place for families, fishermen, and old folks…

The park pays homage to Cotter’s railroad history with a caboose, a statue, and some interesting informational markers to read as you wander about. There’s also a boat ramp, fishing spots, picnic tables, benches, a covered pavilion, a sand volleyball court, a quaint little gazebo that could serve as a bandstand, a walking path, and best of all a true old-fashioned swimming hole complete with a rope swing.

It’s fun to visit the park on a summer afternoon or evening, to sit and watch the kids play in the swimming hole, to picnic, or just set up your lawn chairs in a shady spot, enjoy the cool breezes blowing in from the river, and visit with folks from all over. Cotter, after all, is known as the “Trout Fishing Capital of the World” and many people travel miles to enjoy this quaint little town. I always drive to nearby Gassville first, to pick up a pizza at Nima’s. (This little pizza place has won numerous awards including “Best in the U.S.” at national competitions and even “Best in the World” at international events. Definitely a “don’t miss” place!)

The best part of the park, however, are the magnificent views of the historic old bridge. I hope you enjoy the images I captured last month on one of my day trips over there. It truly is a beautiful, peaceful, and rejuvenating spot.

Click here for a shortcut to the gallery. Thank you for stopping by!

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Vision brings New Purpose

In February of 2019, I wrote a blog post about the incredible restoration and repurpose occurring at the old mill located on the banks of the Finley River in Ozark, Missouri. (Click here to reread it, if you’re interested.) It has been exciting to see the huge building, nearly 100 years old, meticulously restored and revamped. It had sat quietly for nearly 30 years since closing its doors (then seemingly permanently) – but it has now come gloriously back to life once again…

Finley River Park

For years, whenever I have had a little extra time while driving north toward Springfield, Missouri, I have indulged myself with a few minutes to exit off highway 65 and head east down Jackson Street so that I could drive through Finley River Park. Any friends or family members who have ridden with me very often know my routine well – it’s a habit I’ve had for many years, and I’ve taken them along with me so many times. It’s such a beautiful spot – almost always alive with people walking the loop, fishing, kayaking or canoeing, reading, or just sitting and lazily enjoying the tranquil, beautiful little oasis in the middle of Ozark.

Finley River Bridge
Finley River Bridge, Ozark, MO

The old Finley River bridge provides a beautiful backdrop and just beyond it sits the historic Ozark Mill. For years, the old mill sat quiet and abandoned after years of service to the town of Ozark and its surrounding area. The original mill was built on this spot almost 200 years ago – even before Ozark was officially a town. Fires through the decades destroyed most of those original structures. Nevertheless, the Ozark Mill was always repaired and rebuilt, operating continuously on this same spot from the 1830’s until the early 1990’s. What a significant and enduring impact this must have been to the community!

Ozark Mill on the Finley River

At the time it closed its doors, it was reported to be the last working water-powered mill operating in Missouri. Shutting down the old mill was definitely the end of an era…and I feel confident many were sad to see it go. So many times, I have said that it would be a shame for the old building to be lost forever – but sensibly it seemed inevitable. The Finley River frequently flooded the old building….and besides – what could it economically be repurposed to provide?

Of course, as with all things, it takes people with vision – people willing to look beyond the norms and think outside the box…and often (as in this case), we all benefit from the efforts of these wonderful innovative thinkers…

The Ozark Mill; August 3, 2021
The Ozark Mill Restaurant
Views from The Ozark Mill Restaurant

…The restored Ozark Mill, a part of Bass Pro owner Johnny Morris’ wonderful new Finley Farms development, officially opened last night to the public as a wonderful restaurant and shopping experience. Once worn and silent, the old building was full of life yesterday evening and there was a feeling of celebration in the air. The weather was perfect for outdoor seating, with a pleasant breeze blowing over the Finley. Soft music, combined with the gentle noises of rushing water from the waterfalls, the beautiful setting, and all of the lovely, well-planned details made for an ambiance of rustic elegance. Our server Audry, and in fact the entire staff, was professional, friendly, eager to assist, and seemed excited to open the new restaurant in the grand old building. The menu selection was creative, the table setting was unique (our table napkins were patterned after old fashioned dish towels – how fun!), and the food was delicious. I ordered the “Ricotta Ravioli”, which was wonderful, and was fortunate to also taste the “Hog & Feed Flatbread” as well as the “Chicken and Dumplins”. All were very unique, beautifully plated, and absolutely delicious. The menu offers three desserts – but at my table we were intrigued by the “Signature Green Tomato Cake”. “Trust us it’s amazing” was bravely captioned on the menu…..and they were right! Bright green in color, it was moist and delicious – tasting somewhat like an old-fashioned spice cake.

Ricotta Ravioli from The Ozark Mill restaurant

Signature Green Tomato Cake from The Ozark Mill restaurant

Ducks, cranes, and other waterfowl unassumingly entertained us while we ate and comfortably enjoyed our time by the water. The entire evening was wonderful from start to finish. In fact, I’m already looking forward to going back! I heard others talking about how fabulous the “Cast Iron Cornbread” appetizer was….and the “Risotto Fritters” sound intriguing! 🙂

Truth be told, I’m not always a huge fan of change. (Note – this comes as absolutely no surprise to anyone who knows me! 🙂 In fact, I can almost hear them chuckling as they read this. ) So often change feels frightening, unsettling….even painful. However, sometimes….change can bring really great things. It may sound silly, but dinner at the old mill last night reminded me that in some cases endings bring new beginnings, that closing one door may open the doors to new experiences – at times even surpassing those of the past.

I’m going to try to remember that.

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Happy Birthday, Mel Tillis

“Good morning, this is Judy Tillis from Branson. Would you happen to know where I could get in touch with Lisa Carlon?”

Mother replied, “Why yes I do – she’s my daughter, and she’s actually here right now.”

At the time of that phone call, I was a student at College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri – just outside of Branson. I took the phone from Mother and listened as Judy asked me if I would be willing to move out of my college dorm and live with she and her husband to help them take care of their precious little girl, Hannah. Four days later, I moved into their home. Hannah was four at the time – a sweet, beautiful, intelligent child who was and still is absolutely a delight. It was one of the best jobs I have ever had.

Today, I am thinking of so many wonderful memories from those years – because today is the 88th anniversary of Hannah’s daddy, Mel Tillis’, birth. I smiled this morning as I sat remembering…and I decided to share some of the stories with all of you in hopes that they would make you smile as well. However, before we begin, I have to put in a little disclaimer. Mel had a gift for making people smile. He was an incredible entertainer – singer, songwriter, musician, and storyteller. He was a true, gifted artist – telling his stories with wonderful voice inflections, great facial expressions, and hilarious body language – and always managing his stutter to get others to laugh. An avid reader and a writer, he used the English language brilliantly – twisting pronunciations to add comic effect. When I write these stories, I am blessed that I can HEAR his words and SEE his facial expressions as I type….but those things are unfortunately so difficult to express in written words. For those of you who knew and loved Mel Tillis – I hope you can “hear” him in your mind as well while you read ahead…. For those of you who didn’t know Mel, he was known as the “Stutterin’ Boy” because he couldn’t speak without a stutter. His was not a stutter of repeated letters, but of pauses. At times, I know it was so frustrating for him – but he managed it beautifully and worked it into a trademark his audiences came to love. When I’ve included “……..” in the stories below, please know I’m indicating a Mel Tillis pause. I hope you can hear him.

……………………………………

During the 1990’s, someone in town decided to sell maps to the Branson music stars’ homes. As a result, the house we lived in at the end of a quiet neighborhood street became a bit busier with people driving down to see Mel Tillis’ home. Hannah and I were walking back from the park down the street one afternoon when a car passed us obviously following the celebrity map. When we got home, Mel had just finished working with his tomato plants and was getting on the mower to tackle the lawn. He was wearing blue jeans, a long sleeved shirt, ball cap, and sunglasses. The older couple had pulled their car into the driveway and as Hannah and I walked up, the little lady got out of the car and asked politely,

“Excuse me, but is this where Mel Tillis lives?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is”, I replied.

“Would it be all right if we took a quick picture? We will stay here on the driveway and won’t get on the grass”, she said.

“Sure, that will be fine.” I told her, so she headed back to the car to get her husband. As Hannah and I walked on I heard the lady say,

“George, she said it would be all right. You can get out and take the picture – but wait a minute until that gardner goes around to the back so that he won’t be in the picture.”

Hannah looked up at me with big eyes, and I grinned back down at her. The woman had no idea that the “gardener” was Mel himself. George stood waiting patiently to take his picture.

……………………………………

Mel was a great cook and a great baker. Judy was a good cook also – but it was typically Mel who cooked our suppertime meal. He did two shows a day (2:00 and 8:00) five days a week and would come home in between to cook and eat supper, then get a quick rest before heading back. One day, the 2:00 matinee performance was running long and while he was performing he was thinking about the chicken he had planned to fry for supper. Stepping off stage while the Statesiders band played, he called me hurriedly and told me to go ahead and cut up the chicken in the refrigerator so it would be ready for him to fry when he got home – then he hung up quickly to walk back on stage. I got that fryer out of the refrigerator and stared at it. You see – I had never cut up a chicken in my life. I always bought mine in pieces! I took it out of the package and stared at it some more – then I did what any self-respecting girl would do…..I called my Mother for help. She wasn’t home – and I was getting desperate. The internet wasn’t available to search back in those days – and I didn’t know who to ask or what to do. One of Mel’s older daughters was visiting – home from college for the weekend – and she was asleep downstairs. I went down and woke her up – and together we went to work on that chicken – neither one of us knowing what we were doing. When Mel got home, we had hacked that poor bird into all kinds of pieces – none of them really recognizable. To his credit, he didn’t get upset. He just looked at the pitiful pieces and quietly started breading and frying them. When we sat down at the table to eat, he said, “You all might want to…..cover these with gravy ‘cause I had no idea…….what was what……after you two got through…….wrangling this poor thing!” That was the last time he asked me to do that! Epic fail – but now a fun memory.

……………………………………

Mel was a constant student throughout his life. He loved to read, and he loved to learn – with a mind always creative and curious. I had flown in an airplane a total of one time before I worked for the Tillis’ – so I was still a pretty nervous flyer when Hannah and I started traveling back and forth from the little airport at Point Lookout, MO to the little airport in Gallatin, TN. When Mel was on the flights, however, he was a bundle of enthusiasm and curiosity. He most liked to ride up in the cockpit with Skip, the pilot….but when he was in the cabin he would sit looking out the window spotting planes. “Look, Lisa – there’s one right up there above us now” he would say. “Oop – there’s another – it’s a little one flying under us!” At first, it frightened me to see all the planes in the air around us. I had no idea they were even there until he pointed them out! Over time, I began to be interested, though – and now I think of him every time I fly – and it makes me smile.

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Eighteen years ago this month, I took some friends to see Mel’s show here in Branson. I hadn’t worked for the Tillis’ in several years at that point, and I didn’t get to see them as often as I would have liked. It was Mel’s very kind tradition to always do an autograph line after the show to meet and thank the people who came to see him. That autograph line could take a long time, and my group was in a hurry that night to leave and get something to eat, so I decided not to interrupt the line to say hello. (I always felt badly to leave without saying hi – but I also always felt presumptuous to walk up and interrupt the line. I didn’t want to be a bother – but I didn’t want to be rude either! It was always a hard decision for me.) As we were exiting the theater I heard a familiar voice call, “Heyyyyy, Lisa!” I smiled and walked over to give Mel a hug and say hello. His eyes were lit up, and he had a big mischievous smile on his face.

“Did you know I just had a birthday?” he said.

“I did! Happy birthday!”, I replied.

“I’m goin’ on 80, can you believe it?” he stated.

I saw people in the autograph line turning and talking – saying they didn’t realize he was almost 80 years old.

“Mel, you aren’t going on 80!!! You’re only 70!” I said shaking my head.

He grinned, looked me straight in the eye and said, “I know…but that’s…going on eighty!!!”

Makes me chuckle even to this day.

……………………………………

I learned a lot from Mel – and I am grateful to him for everything he taught me. He believed strongly in honoring the flag. I had a t-shirt once with the American flag printed beautifully across the front. He looked at it sharply and said, “You know you’re not supposed to do that, don’t you?” When I asked what he meant, he referred to the flag code and told me that the American flag should never be used as wearing apparel. I’ve never worn a flag in that way since.

He also modeled for me that you should always do your best no matter what. When he decided to put together a cookbook to sell in the theater gift shop, he didn’t farm it out to people in his office – he went to work on it himself. He wanted the recipes to be really good – and to truly reflect his personal favorites. Let’s be honest – the cookbook was probably going to sell pretty well no matter what was in it – because it was “Mel’s Cookbook” – but he wanted to be sure to give people good recipes to try and good stories to go with them. He worked hard to get everything right – and my copy of the cookbook is one I treasure to this day.

When Mel decided to record a gospel album, part of the work was deciding which songs to include. As usual, Mel wanted to get it right – to do a good job. One day at the house he asked me if my Mother had any old Southern gospel albums. I told him she had tons of them – and he asked if he could borrow them. Judy had to buy him a record player to play the albums. During his free time for several days, he sat on the floor playing those old long play records and writing down notes and lyrics from his favorites on a yellow legal pad. He had trouble getting the lyrics to one old hymn he had selected, so he asked me if Mother might have that song in a songbook. She looked through her many songbooks and couldn’t find it – so she called friends around town and finally located it in a hymnal our friends the High family had. Months later when the album was complete, Mel would sing a gospel song during his shows and then give one of the new CD’s away to someone in the audience. One day, Mother and Daddy came to the show and I was sitting in the audience with them. Before Mel sang his gospel song, he asked Mother to stand and told the crowd how she had lended him her records and helped him find the songs for his album. Thanking her publicly, he gave her the free CD. I’ve always been grateful to him for giving her that moment of recognition.

……………………………………

Happy birthday, Mel.

It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone almost three years.

Thank you for the music, the smiles and the laughs you brought to so many, the stories, the lessons and the memories..

I am grateful to have known you.

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Always a Tiger

I was only eleven years old the very first time I stepped onto the campuses of Green Forest Schools. It was the fall of 1978, and I was beginning my sixth grade year…Being at a new school was scary, but I quickly made dear friends and settled in happily…

Fast forward four decades –

A week and a half ago, I finished my last day as Federal Programs Coordinator and Director of Instruction for the Green Forest School District – leaving that position to pursue another opportunity. I walked through every hall and down every sidewalk that last day with the district. My goodness! There are so many memories on every corner.

I went into the high school on the old junior high side of the building. (That’s the north side – for those of you too young to remember!) Years ago, we used to have a Pepsi machine in the hall outside the principal’s office. I don’t remember the price (maybe a dime?) – but as a student if you hurried between classes you could stop just outside the principal, Mr. Allison’s office and purchase a pop. You would put in your money and a paper cup slid down and filled with slightly cooled soda – which you had to gulp quickly to finish and get to class before the tardy bell rang. I thought it was quite a privilege!

I had to smile as I walked down that old hall. Regardless of who occupies the rooms today, for me, the classrooms at the bottom of the stairs will always be Mrs. James’ (on the left) and Mr. Fancher’s (on the right). Mrs. Taunton’s library was at the end of the hall back then. High school room 120 will always be Mr. Rose’s room in my mind. I spent four years in that room learning algebra and geometry from him. My friend, Jonie Standlee, served as high school counselor for all the years I worked for the district – but to be honest (sorry, Jonie!) she was really hanging out in my high school counselor, Mrs. Sturtz’ office all that time. Teachers, classmates, friends – everywhere I looked, I saw memories of so many special people.

Mrs. Fultz’ Home Ec. building and Mr. James’ GCE building have been moved. One is still used as classroom space – the other simply now serves as a storage building…

I fell asleep in Mr. James’ class one day – but only once! Always a jokester, he allowed my classmates to pile little broken pieces of chalk on my ear until I woke up and the pieces crashed to the floor. Lesson learned – it was the last time I fell asleep in class and I am smiling now at the memory.

Our “Class of 1985” picture is displayed on the wall just outside the teachers’ workroom. Our Senior Monument is on display outside the “Old Gym” where we survived nearly terrifying (but exciting!) dodgeball games in Mrs. Hodges’ P.E. classes.

The building we called the “new gym” when I was in school is now the “Grim Gym” in honor of Coach Fred Grim. I remember when Shane Compton played ball for Coach Grim back in the day. Now Shane is walking in Coach Grim’s footsteps, serving as boys’ basketball coach for the district.

My classmates and I graduated high school in that gym 34 years ago. Ten precious members of my family were sitting in the second row, on the floor, to the right, proudly watching me graduate. If I close my eyes I can see them sitting there. In many ways, that seems like only yesterday…..but I open my eyes knowing that four of those ten loved ones are gone now….

I headed toward elementary down the same sidewalk I walked daily as a sixth grader – our class in a straight line following Mr. George Wheeler, our teacher, to lunch. The old sidewalk isn’t used as much anymore. Back in the day, they would bus us to the cafeteria whenever it rained. Today, there is a nice covered sidewalk for students to use that follows an even shorter path.

Our old sixth grade classroom has now been remodeled into offices for the principal and the nurse, but I remember how it looked back then. Mr. Wheeler had a polished wood and glass display case in the back of the classroom with all sorts of insects and plants and rocks he had collected. He even had his tonsils preserved in a jar – displayed for all of us to see. I remember being both grossed out and fascinated.

I walked across the playground where I once met Festus Hagen (Ken Curtis). That was my first year at Green Forest, and I was so excited that a big celebrity was at our school. I knew this had to be a very cool place if a Gunsmoke actor visited! I mean really!!!

The tetherballs and basketball courts where we played back then are gone now – a building addition stands in their place – but I remember how it looked. I remember it all – both the faces and the places.

I consider it a very great honor to have had the opportunity to go back and work for my alma mater. It was truly a privilege – and one I will forever cherish.

Thank you, Green Forest Schools. Always a Tiger.