In the last blog, I wrote about landmark events in my life…..those events that will always stand out in my memory. Events which are those “Where were you when……?” events. They were historical events which have changed the course of history in my life time. It is a tricky job making judgments like this. Making pronouncements like this is very subjective, to say the least. Incidents which I placed on my list of life changing occurrences for our world and our society may not appear on the list of somebody else. Probably there will be people who will disagree with me…..even want to argue about it. Sorry…..I don’t argue. I learned long ago that it really accomplishes nothing…..nobody is really going to change his mind! So…..if you want to disagree on my selection….go head. Pick out your own historical makers….. And, then write a blog about it.

This blog is going to be different. It will do you no good to argue about these……because they are my own personal landmark events. I am going to call them Sign Posts…..because they have pointed me in a direction that I may not have taken if they had not have happened. The good thing about this blog is that nobody can really disagree with my choices…..because nobody has lived my life…..except me! Like they say, “It’s my ball. If you don’t want to play my game, I will take it and go home.”

As I was pondering which events to include, I had to stop and sort through an entire life time of events, happening, occurrences, circumstances, coincidences……

Some of the obvious choices….choices that I am almost sure other people would be quick to include….simply were not that life-changing to me. Sorry.

I would be willing to bet that one of the first events a lot of people would have chosen would be graduating from high school. Actually, I can barely remember my high school graduation ceremony. I know I graduated because I still have my diploma….and it is signed. I also have copies of the programs for both our Baccalaureate service and the actual Commencement ceremony. As I look at them, there is nothing on either of them that even remotely rings a bell. But….again…..I know I was there not only because I have a signed copy of my high school diploma…..but I also have pictures of me in my graduation robe. And, I am pretty sure it wasn’t just something I used as a Halloween costume that year!

For those of you who are perhaps wondering what a Baccalaureate service is: It was a religious service that was usually held about a week prior to the actual Commencement ceremony. They have faded away over the years. In fact, I am assuming they are not permissible…or legal….today….because it involved local pastors offering prayers and sermons to the graduating seniors. Back when I graduated from high school….in 1956….they were not only common…..they were a regular part of the graduation process.

So…..No….high school graduation was most definitely not one of the “Sign Posts” of my life. In fact, my life changed very little after I graduated from high school. The most memorable reminiscence I have of my high school graduation is that I came down with mumps the day after the Commencement ceremony……and I spent the next few weeks in bed….in a darkened room…..with very little to do.

After the recovery process began, I would try to read….I would watch TV…..I would lie in bed and listen to every Kansas City “A’s” baseball game. From 1955 – 1967 Kansas City was home to an American League Team known as the Kansas City Athletics. They moved to Oakland, California, in 1968. The Royals began to play in Kansas City in 1969…..which, coincidentally, was the year I moved to Valley Falls.

But, wait…..I am getting off the subject.

After graduating from high school, I continued to live at home; I continued to work for Dillons; I continued to have the same friends. No…..I don’t think that can really qualify for a major life-changing event….and significant Sign Post of my life.

But…..Hey! What about college…..and I AM a college graduate! Surely, college must be a life-changing experience for everybody. Perhaps…..everybody, except me. I went to Sterling College in my hometown. I continued to live at home; I continued to work at Dillons; I continued to have the same friends. Maybe you are asking why I didn’t have a lot of college friends. Let’s face it: Most of the students attending Sterling College back in those days were there studying to be pastors, missionaries, youth leaders, etc. And, most of them lived in the dorm. I went to Sterling College for economic reasons: Dillons, the company I worked for, gave me a scholarship all four years…..and I had the luxury of living at home, like all of my fellow Sterling High School graduates did. I felt….and I think I can even say WE felt….that we had more in common with each other than we did with the majority of the student body. All of us were enrolled in Sterling College because we were receiving local scholarships…..and we could live at home. Again economic and financial reasons…..not because we wanted become any sort of religious professional…..and most certainly, there is nothing wrong with that.

While I was in college….and this includes my entire four years at Sterling College…..I made one friend with whom I am still in contact today. And, except for that one guy, I really have no idea where the rest of my class is…..or what they are doing. And, I don’t really care. No….back in those college days, my life went on pretty much as usual. At that time, I would have been content to live in Sterling for the remainder of my life…..and work for Dillons.

I recall one Saturday morning in one of our drug stores. A few of my friends and I were sitting in a booth drinking Cokes. One of our recent high school graduates…..a member of our graduating class……came in and sat down with us. After high school she had joined the U.S. Navy, had recently finished her basic training, and was now in college (at government expense) studying to obtain a degree in nursing. She had been away from Sterling for a while, and she was home on leave. During the course of the conversation, she said something to the effect, “You guys need to get out of this town. I would never come back here and live.” Wow! We were all highly offended. How dare she talk that way about our beloved little town! She went on to tell us what a hick town it was….and how, once we had gotten away from it, we would never want to come back there and live.

It would take a few more years before I would come to realize that she was right….before all of my graduating class except for one person…..would realize that she was right. Our life was too familiar, too safe, too comfortable to even think of leaving it behind. “Come on, you little snob…..if you don’t like it, then go back to your Navy and leave us alone.”

So…..No…..neither high school or college was a major Sign Post in my life….nothing life-changing about either one of them.

 

 

 

The first major intersection I encountered in my life……a Sign Post that pointed me in a way that would become my life was the decision to enter the field of education: to become a teacher. (But….I suppose my college education had something to with that.)

It is a little too late in life to debate the merits of my choice. It’s all in the past. It is a done deal. I can’t turn around and go back how. I’ve already been down that road…..and it was a one-way road. It’s like any other journey. After it is over…..you are back home….and the car is in the garage….you can say, “I should have gone here…..or there. I should have done this….or that.” Of course, you COULD have….but you didn’t. And, as long as you enjoyed your journey…..as long as you completed the journey safely…..as long as your “snap shots” turned out OK….. Why worry about it?

And, believe me….I have had these second thoughts…..plenty of times. I probably should have stayed in the Army; I could have kept working somewhere overseas; I could have been a travel writer; I could have been quarterback for the Denver Broncos; I could have been the organist at the Mormon Tabernacle (if they would actually let a United Methodist be the organist).

When I was in high school and college, teaching was the only profession that I ever seriously considered, although I would have been just as happy back in those days if I could have continued to work for Dillons. I loved my job….sacking groceries, stocking shelves, running the cash register, trimming produce…..all of the mundane little tasks that were associated with working in a small grocery store. I loved my job back then….but I am not sure I would want to go back and do it now. Of course, “back then”, I didn’t know anything else. I knew practically everybody in Sterling…..and what kind of car they drove. It was a comfortable and familiar situation.

Of course, Dillons didn’t pay my way through college just so I could work in one of their stores for the rest of my life. Not “back then” anyways….. And, the district supervisor…whose name was Duke….who came to our store about once a week more or less…. let my boss know this. District supervisors dealt only with the manager…..not us commoners. I saw the handwriting on the wall, as they say…..and I began to look for a teaching job.

The first job I interviewed for was a job in a one room school house somewhere out in Western Kansas. I have even forgotten where it was now…..or even what they offered as a salary. But…..it was out in the country, of course. The school was on the upper or main floor…..and I would be living in the basement, as a sort of caretaker, janitor, whatever you want to call it. This did not seem very appealing to me…..and I didn’t accept the job.

A job which I accepted was at a little two room school north of Lyons….Fairplay School. I taught grades 5 – 8….everything except music. And, I was also the softball coach, the basketball coach and the track coach. We didn’t have a gym…..but we did have an outdoor asphalt slab with two basketball hoops….and that was our “gym”. We did have a softball diamond….and even a backstop. Since there were only twelve students in the entire school, 1 – 8, everybody played on the team. They had to or there wouldn’t have been a team.

Fearing…..and realistically fearing…..that I would be drafted that summer, I did not sign a contract to return for the next school year. It was getting late in the summer….and still no draft notice. Wow….I had better start looking for another job. I accepted a job as 7th and 8th grade teacher at Prosperity School, just north of Hutchinson on Plum Street. This job was pretty much like the job I had at Fairplay School, except I was teaching only 7th and 8th grades. I still taught all the classes except music; still coached softball, basketball and track….without a gym.

 

Sometime during the year, I received a draft notice. I appealed it…but assuming that it would probably do no good. Somehow I had the feeling that the clerk of the Selective Service Board in Rice County…..a Mrs. Zima….was determined that I would be the one and only guy drafted from Rice County. However, I was granted a deferment for the remainder of the school year. So at least for that year, I did not have the draft breathing down my back.

Again, summer came…..and no draft notice. “Maybe I got lucky and they gave up on me,” I thought. I went ahead and signed a contract to teach the following school year. So far….so good. But sometime in the autumn of that year, the inevitable happened. Why did I think I should be so lucky? This time, I knew there was no point contesting the obvious…..I was about to become a member of the U.S. Army. I was instructed to report to the Induction Station in Kansas City on December 11, 1962. And, on December 12, I was officially inducted into the U. S. Army.

Upon my release from the Army three years later…..on December 12, l965…..I was faced with looking for another job…..in the middle of the year. And, you know what? There are not a lot of teaching jobs available in the middle of the year….at least, not a lot of desirable ones. I interviewed for a job in Chicago…..a job which would have placed me in a school in an inner-city slum. As a small-town boy, that was not exactly what I was looking for. I found another teaching opportunity in Kansas City, Missouri….in George Caleb Bingham Junior High School…..and experimental school. I accepted a position as a Core Curriculum teacher in grade 8. Core Curriculum is another name for language arts and social studies.

I stayed there for one semester…..and that was enough. Enough both of the school and the city. All of the instruction centered around large group instruction using only audio-visual methods: film strips, slides, movies, overhead projector, guest speakers…..anything and everything except actual books. It was interesting….but I wanted a class of my own…..a class that I could become to know and identify with and work with and enjoy and appreciate. So….at the end of the semester, I started looking for another job……again.

At that time, the only college I had attended was Sterling College. That is probably not the college where all the schools of the Mid-West….or even Kansas…..rush to list their job vacancies. But, at the time, it was the best I could do. When I got my first job vacancy bulletin….and keep in mind, this was probably not the most comprehensive list…I saw a job available in Valley Falls. I didn’t have a clue where Valley Falls was located. I had never heard of it before. However, I looked it up on a Kansas map and found that it was actually quite near Kansas City. “Ah ha,” I thought. “I could stop there for an interview on my way home to Lyons some weekend.” So…..I asked for an application form….filled it out….mailed it in. A couple days later, I had an appointment for an interview on a Saturday morning.

Because it was easier to follow the highways, I took the long route….I-70 to Topeka and then K-4 to Valley Falls. I found the school quickly…..it is actually hard to miss. But, my interview was at the house of the Superintendent of Schools…..a block west of the school. It was still rather early in the morning, but the Superintendent, Dr. Ted Jones, offered me a glass of water…..and then asked if I would like to go look at the school. “Yes, of course,” I said. The new gym (It is now the OLD gym) was under construction….as well as the library, lunch room, music department…..etc. We looked through the existing building….and then Ted (I call him that because we quickly became friends.) gave me a tour of the “under construction” part of the building. All of the time we were walking, he was telling me all the good things about Valley Falls….all the advantages of teaching at USD 338. He was selling me the job! This was back in the days when there was an authentic teacher shortage. And, later on, I would come to see just how desperate they were to find teachers! (Oh well….I am sure they probably thought the same thing about me!)

At the end of the tour, he asked, “Well, can I have Betty send you a contract to sign?”

Actually, I don’t think I to stopped and think about it. Now I could relax. “I had a job. Now, I don’t have to look any more.” It happened just that quickly…..without a second thought.

I continued on to Lyons. At the time my mother lived next door to my aunt and uncle (her brother). When I arrived, they were all sitting in the backyard of my uncle’s house. I announced happily, “I got a new job!

“Where?” my aunt asked.

“In Valley Falls.” I told them.

She looked at me skeptically and said, “There is no such place as Valley Falls.”
Apparently, she had ever heard of it either.

I convinced them that I actually had a new job…..and that I was leaving Kansas City.

This was probably one of the times I did not even stop to read the Sign Posts….let alone consider their consequences. I went careening down the road…..never looking back.

Did I make a mistake? Did I make a stupid choice? Should I have looked at several jobs before I accepted the job?

I don’t know. I have asked myself that question at least a thousand times over the past four decades.

Of course, these are questions that will forever remain unanswered.

Let me start with the negative side. When writing something like this, I am aware that I have to be very careful what I say. I realize that even little things can turn into big things…..a molehill can become a mountain if you keep piling on enough dirt.

When I first arrived, I immediately liked the three or four colleagues that I met that summer. I rode to Lawrence to the University of Kansas every day with the high school principal and the P. E. teacher. They became two of my closest friends that year. Our grade school principal was top notch….calm, knowledgeable, in quiet control. Our superintendent of schools was one of the best administrators I ever worked for…..always willing to help and to give advice. He had a remarkable grasp of how schools should work….of how to assemble a budget that would please the school board, the public….and the teachers. But….teachers always came first. My fellow social studies teacher, who lived in the same house as I did, was smart, friendly, well liked by the students….and always ready to offer a helping hand when I needed it. And……it probably helped that all of these people were avid K. U. fans!

I was hired to each two classes of United States History at the high school level….and the remainder of the classes teaching social studies and English in the junior high school

It didn’t take long before it was clearly evident that not all the teachers were dedicated to teaching…..or even competent to be teaching young people. Many classes were simply chaos. In one of the coach’s classroom….across the hallway from mine…..it was a common sight to see students sitting on his desk as they discussed the sport he was coaching. The rest of them were doing pretty much as they pleased. The hallways were always noisy….even during class time. Many teachers seemed to have little or no control over their classes.

Back in those days, Valley Falls was known (and not in a good sense) as the “basketball school”. Or maybe simply as a “sports school”. It was no secret that athletics came first…..even to perhaps bending the rules in order to pass football and basketball players who would probably otherwise be ineligible.

It was very common that when I attended meetings, conferences, etc…..other teachers would ask where I taught. I would say, “Valley Falls.” Almost invariably they would give each other knowing looks and smile (or snicker). It seemed that most of the boys looked upon themselves as being little “Michael Jordans”. Yeah….they were basketball stars. Funny, that in my almost four decades of association with the school district that only ONE student ever played on a major college team. I can count probably a dozen of our “star jocks” who went to smaller colleges or community colleges…..and more or less bombed out.

At the end of the school year three teachers were fired: Two who should have been. But one.….my good friend, the P.E. teacher and J.V. Basketball coach…..was fired because he did not….would not…..give one of the school board member’s son enough playing time…..even though he was an outstanding teacher and well liked by the students and faculty. In protest, the high school principal and the elementary principal resigned.

Both outgoing principals urged me to resign….to get out while I could….to go somewhere else. But, this was my first full time job after coming back from South Vietnam, and I was hesitant. I needed to built my resume. So….against my better judgment…..I stayed.

There were only two times that I can remember that I made serious efforts to find another job. On one occasion, I applied for a position as counselor in a high school somewhere south of here. I really don’t recall the name of the school. They offered me a job as high school counselor……but: I would have to take a pay cut….and I didn’t feel that I could afford to make less money than I was already earning. That was back in the days when teachers were hired according to a salary schedule: a chart or graph on which the vertical axis was the number of years in the district; and the horizontal axis was the amount of education the teacher had acquired. Where ever these two points met…..then that was your salary. And most school districts would only allow incoming teachers to start at a predetermined spot on the graph. The reason for this was, of course, to keep salary costs down…..and usually to find beginning teachers who could be paid a lower salary. As fate would have it, my present

salary was quite a bit above the salary they would offer an incoming teacher. So…..I didn’t accept the job.

The only other job I applied for….and was offered…..was a position as counselor, vice principal and transportation director (and maybe the official dog catcher, too) of a small….but very wealthy…..school district in southwest Kansas. The school was rich with natural gas revenue…..and was apparently much better off than many other school districts of its size. It was very isolated from…..well, everything. It was actually closer to drive to Wichita Fall, Texas, that it was to drive to Wichita, Kansas! But, I would have…..and could have…..endured it for two or three years. It would have been a great place to gain some experience…..in counseling, in administration…..and in being a transportation director, whatever that entailed!

The old superintendent of schools showed me around. And….he was old! Could have been one hundred, for all I know. This little town was the only town he had ever taught in…..forty or forty-five years. Two things in particular stand out in my mind about the trip. One: Once I reached a certain point in southwest Kansas, EVERYBODY I met on the highway waved at me. This was back when the “wave” was to simply raise a finger or two off the steering wheel. Friendly people, I guess…..or lonely. The second thing: The superintendent said they still regularly used corporal punishment in their school system: Not only in the elementary school, but also in the high school! I asked him specifically if I would be expected to spank high school kids. “Yes,” he said.

“What do the parents say about this?” I asked.

“They are perfectly fine with it.”

WOW!

Anyways, he offered me the job……and told me how much money I would be making. It was considerably more than I was making in Valley Falls…..enough at least, to accept the job. Before I left, he said he would check with the school board members over the weekend……and I should give him a call on Monday.

I drove back to Lyons to my mother’s house to spend the night. Of course, I told everybody that I had a new job…..as an assistant principal! They were all delighted, and were full of congratulations to me.

On Monday afternoon, during my break, I called the superintendent, as I told him I would. Well, he said. The school board was OK with him hiring me…..but they were willing to pay much less than the amount he had told me…..actually, not much more than I was making at current job as a sixth grade teacher. I was shocked, to say the least. I really didn’t know how to respond.

Looking back, I suspect that it was probably a sort of “set up”…..a sort of “bait and switch” operation…..although, of course, I don’t know that as a fact. I can imagine they thought they had a real sucker! A guy who wanted to be an administrator so badly that I would accept anything they offered. Well…..I didn’t take the bait. I told the superintendent that I was no longer interested…..and hung up. I hadn’t told anybody at the school that I was applying for another job……but I did have to explain to everybody back home that…..No, I wasn’t going to be a principal, after all.

So……I ended up spending thirty-four years working in the Valley Falls school district.

Who knows what would have happened if I had left and taken another job in the field of education. Could I have achieved more? Had a more important position? Made more money?

And, even more important…..to me, at least…..what would have happened if I had followed a Sign Post marked Army? Or writer? Or foreign aid worker? Or Peace Corps volunteer? Or political science? Or park ranger?

Would I have had a more satisfying life? A more exciting life? A more fulfilling life?
Would I have made more money? Met more exciting challenges? Made a greater contribution to society?

Working in the public school…..at least, back when I was working….can be compared to making a long trip. Once you reach a certain point, it just doesn’t make any sense to turn around and go back. You are too far from your starting point…..closer to your destination….whatever that may be.

In the case of working in a public school, it all has to do with that salary schedule I talked about. Is it worth it to change jobs….to turn around and go back….and lose a great deal of salary….and have to start from the beginning again? Or is it better to simply keep going…..and hope for the best?

But….wait!

Here I am, at the end of the road…..still in Valley Falls. And, as I look back, it wasn’t all bad. Please don’t get the impression that it was a miserable journey….the kind where you end up in a miserable motel room with no hot water and dirty sheets!

The fact is: a lot of it has been a great experience. I think I was a reasonably good teacher and had the respect of most of my students and parents. Today, a lot of my good friends are my former students. We enjoy being with each other and carrying on a conversation as equals. It is rather strange: back in 1969, when I first arrived, these people were kids……eighteen years, at the oldest. I was thirty-two…..and at that point in my life, that was an eternity. I wasn’t old enough to be their parent…..but I was certainly old enough to be their youngest uncle! Today, these same students I taught as juniors and seniors in high school are sixty-two years old! It boggles my mind. Most of them have overcome the habit of calling me “Mr. Darrah” and simply call me by my first name. And, I like that. When we talk with each other….we have forty-five years of shared experience…..forty-five years of memories. And, another startling fact is…..to me at least…..is that I taught many of their grandchildren. Well, if I didn’t teach them, I came into contact with them when I was counselor.

Valley Falls is where I built my first….only only….house: a place where I have lived for the past forty years. Valley Falls is the place where I had the privilege of building a summer track program and coaching Junior Olympic athletes for many years. Some of the kids were very good and won medals. Some just had the fun of working hard, trying and participating. To me, all of them were equally important.

Aside from teaching, I am sure I was, at one time or another, the chairman of every committee ever formed in the Valley Falls school system. I got to do a lot of interesting things…..and meet a lot of fascinating people.

Upon my retirement, I was elected to the school board for a four year term….beating out my opponent by a 3-1 margin.

So…..Yes…..I would have to say that Valley Falls was good to me. And, I would like to think that I was also good to them. There is no point speculating on “what might have been”. I look back with many happy memories….a lot of good friends….and a sense that I also might have made a little contribution to the community.

The next life-changing junction in the road of life was a Sign Post that, at the time, I would have preferred to ignore. Actually, I did not want to take a journey down the road……but all the other roads were blocked. And….the were blocked by big army tanks……and probably a drill sergeant screaming, “Take that road…..and drop and give me ten!”

Yeah…..the only Sign Post I could follow….the only road open to me…..was the road to the United States Army. I resigned my teaching job…..the students and parents threw a party for me…..and I headed to Kansas City. On December 12, l962, I was inducted into the good old Army. I received a draft notice….and this time there was no getting out of it.

Soldiers who were drafted had two year active duty obligation….plus some reserve duty. Soldier who enlisted were required to serve for three years…..with a some reserve duty.

Back then I was very naïve….I knew very little about the military and how it works. Before we took the oath to be a solider, they gave us a little speech telling us that if we chose to enlist for three years, we could choose from all these wonderful and exciting career options…..in other words, choose our MOS…..Military Occupational Specialty.
I was an innocent, unsophisticated country boy…..or maybe I simply wanted to believe them. Anyway, I chose to enlist. It was first of many lessons I would learn in the Army. Sure…..they told us that we could CHOOSE any MOS we wanted. They just didn’t bother to tell us that this meant nothing! They would….and could….put us anywhere they wanted. I wish I had had my attorney with me!

My Army experience was sort of like eating spinach or Brussel sprouts. At first sight and first taste, they don’t taste so good. Get them out of here. But, the more you eat them….the better you like them. In fact, after a while, they taste pretty good. This, in a way, can describe my three years in the Army.

This was the first time I had been away from home for any length of time. I had gone to visit my sisters or other relatives…..or college friends…..or I had taken a trip with friends. But, I always knew that I would be going back home in a week or two. And….I liked the people I was with. And, I more or less knew what to expect.
And, during my four years in college, I had lived at home…..so I had no experience with “communal living”. The first night I slept in the Army Induction Station in Kansas City was a rather intimidating experience. Take my word for it….it was not a Five Star Hilton Hotel. No friendly, accommodating front desk clerk; no chocolate on my pillow; no TV to watch; no recliner to relax in. Hey…..is this any way to welcome a guy who is going to defend our country for the next three years? No…..our sleeping quarters was a cavernous room with maybe fifty or one hundred beds in it…..I didn’t think to count them. There was a bed on the left….a bed ton the right….a bed in front….a bed behind. I can imagine that a few of the guys actually wanted to be there……but I also suspect that the vast majority of us did not want to be there.

Nothing really changed when we were shipped out to our basic training posts. In our case, I think most of us ended up at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri….in the middle of the winter. Our barracks were old wooden, two story frame buildings…..probably left over from the Civil War…..or something earlier. Each building housed the platoon we were assigned to. There were absolutely NO interior walls in the building….except the basic walls to hold up the roof and to separate the sleeping area from the shower area. Even in the shower room there were no walls or divisions. Everything was an open area. Privacy? There was no privacy.

Everybody had a “bunk mate”…..one on the top bunk and one on the lower bunk. We were responsible for each other…..making certain our bunk was made to specification each morning; making sure our foot locker was arranged in precise order; making sure our clothing in the wardrobe locker was hung in an explicit manner. If one of got into trouble….we both got into trouble. Well….let me assure you: I had no desire to get into trouble! I followed their silly regulations to the letter! My bunk mate….well, let’s just say that he was not so concerned. I really don’t think the problem was his lack of concern as much as it was his lack of competence….or his failure to grasp exactly how the Army wanted this to be done. He tried….I think he really did. But, he was sort of like the kindergarten kids I taught: Give them a picture to color….explain to them carefully that you want them to “stay in the lines” when they color. When they finish, they bring their picture up to you…..so proud of it! But….is was terrible! At any rate, I managed to keep the poor kid out of trouble most of the time. He was such a nice kid….good natured….easy to get along with. It was almost impossible to get angry with him. Looking back, I wish I had done a better job keeping in contact with him.

But, in retrospect, it is easy for me to see that the Army was training us…conditioning us….to always look out for our buddy. It could, I suppose, potentially mean the difference between life and death in a combat situation.

It was not until after I completed both phases of my basic training….after I received my permanent assignment….that I was assigned a room of my own.

Although at the time, I did not consider this to be my ideal living arrangement…..as I reflect on it, I can understand the Army’s motive. They were trying to build a cohesive unit….one that would function as a solid team in case of war. “All for one….one for all”….or however that cliché goes.

In my own case, this was the first time that I had to really “grow up”. It was the first time I had truly been by myself without some sort of support unit to fall back on. It was the first time I had to totally rely on my own instincts and judgment…..or depend on the judgment and support of my fellow soldiers.

It was in the Army…..and especially in basic training….that I was first exposed to a literal melting pot of humanity: rich and poor; white, black and yellow; educated and uneducated; high school drop outs and those with college degrees; city boys and country boys; boys from the North, from the South, from the West and from the Midwest; the smart and the not so smart; the shy and the extroverts. We were all lumped together into one group….and everyone with the same responsibilities and the same opportunities.

It was a dramatic awakening for me. This was the first time I had ever been exposed close up to black people; the first time in my life that I ever met a Jew; the first time I had ever been exposed to a New England drawl or a deep South accent; the first time I had ever met somebody from a ghetto. Not only was it an awakening…..but it was a very valuable lesson in tolerance and awareness that would serve me well later on in life.

If I followed orders….if I did what I was told to do…..if I did my job to the best of my ability….I quickly found out that the sergeants would leave me alone….not give me “special attention”. I also learned…..Always look busy! Act like I am doing something….and do it earnestly….and the sergeants would leave me alone.

Also, I discovered…..and I don’t know why this surprised me….that my education was a valuable asset when the Army starting assigning permanent jobs…..at least, it was in my case. At Ft. Benjamin Harrison (Indianapolis) I went through the basic Army administration school…..training to be a company clerk. Every company has a clerk….whether it be in a suburban Army post like Ft. Benjamin Harrison…..or a jungle outpost in South Vietnam.

When I finished the course, it was time to receive orders for our permanent assignment. Most of the guys in my class were being shipped to South Korea, West Germany…..or South Vietnam. Any of those place….except for South Vietnam….would have been an acceptable place to be transferred, I suppose. But….the powers that be noticed that I had a college degree…..and that I had taught school for a couple years. They pulled me out of the regular assignments and kept me at Ft. Benjamin Harrison as the administrative assistant to the Commander of Troops…..not a bad assignment.

Even after I received orders to serve in South Vietnam, I had the same experience. My original orders were to report to an Army base in the southern delta region of the country. But…again….the people in the personnel office saw that I had graduated from college….that I had taught school…and that I had been administrative assistant to a commander. So….my orders were changed. I was permanently assigned to the Headquarters of the U.S. Army in Vietnam as the secretary to the Adjutant General. And, that my friends….was a lucky surprise! And, I might say…..a very welcome surprise.

However, I quickly learned that I could…and would…succeed by doing the best job I could possibly do: To take care of my boss….to make him look good. His reward was was that he looked good to his superiors (and Yes, generals have superiors, too.) and he also looked good and gained the respect of all those under his command. It made him look more competent, skilled and authoritative….more worthy of their respect. And….I was rewarded generously for it. At Ft. Benjamin Harrison I was placed on the board of directors of the Indianapolis Service Men’s Center, our local USO organization. I was sent to the Indianapolis airport to escort important military visitors to the post. I was invited to the commander’s house for dinner. I was highly encouraged to date my sergeant-major’s daughter….although I never took advantage of the offer. In South Vietnam, I was never on guard duty, because my boss wanted me on-call twenty-four hours a day. That plus the fact, that we…the commander, the sergeant-major, myself….would sit and just visit in the closing minutes of the day when our work had been completed. At times, I felt more like their friend that I did their subordinate. And, they both acted as sort of a father-figure to me.

Even though all these lessons were important and lasting, probably the most important change the Army made in my life was that it instilled in me the love of travel….to see and live in other places. Just like the Navy nurse from my graduating class, I would never be content to simply move back to Sterling and live out my life and be one of the local yokels. As I said in an earlier blog…..while in South Vietnam, I caught the “travel bug.”

I returned home after my enlistment was completed…..and was immediately restless. I wanted to go back to South Vietnam….or to Hong Kong…..or to Tokyo…..just any place. The “travel bug” had become chronic…..and I have never succeeded in curing it.

This was one Sign Post I was forced to follow…..and it was a road to enlightenment, awakening, awareness and satisfaction that I will never regret taking.

An unexpected Sign Post presented itself one afternoon in July back in 1992. It was a fork in the road that took me by surprise. I found myself in a place where I did not expect to be. I had never seen this road before…..and I certainly never thought I would find myself staring at a sign post wondering, “Should I go down this curious new road…..or had I best just let well enough alone and stay on the road I am familiar and comfortable with?”

I looked down that road marked “Exchange Students Blvd.” and tried to imagine what it would be like. Was it a straight, wide, smooth road? Or would it be a rough and bumpy road filled with holes? Just over the horizon, would it take some weird, unexpected turn? Or would it take me somewhere I didn’t want to be…and leave me stranded there.

After pondering these questions for an uncharacteristic short time….at least, for me…..I made the decision to plunge forward….and see where the road would eventually lead. And…..I am glad I did! It was an exciting road….full of adventure and intrigue and drama. There was never a dull moment…..and the journey passed by so quickly. Even after the journey had ended, I was motivated to take other shorter…but no less interesting….trips. And, they continue to this day.

Over the years from 1992 through 2001, I hosted nine foreign students. Two them simply didn’t work out…..and they were gone quickly…..and relatively painlessly. The other eight brought a degree of satisfaction and fulfillment into my life that greatly overshadowed any negative issues I had to deal with. These seven young men became the sons I never had…..who eventually gave me the grandchildren I will never have.

These students…..six Germans and one Chinese….brought adventure and satisfaction and cheer into my life and gave me a sense of responsibility that I had not had before this time. I formed lasting friendships not only with them…..but also their families….their parents, their siblings, their wives….and now their children.

One of the great aspects of opening my home to foreign students for ten months, was that no two of them were the same…..different personalities, different temperaments, different identities, different egos, different backgrounds, different family histories….. Each one of them was a unique individual…..and remain so today. I always looked forward to meeting each of my new students…..and I always hated to see them leave.

Much has been said about fostering international understanding. Previously, this was a rather remote and abstract concept…..words that looked good on paper, at least. Through my involvement with my foreign students, this concept transformed from the abstract to reality.

These students….the Germans in particular….opened a new avenue of travel to me. It introduced me to a new and fascinating world……the continent of Europe…..and especially the country of Germany…..and more specifically, the city of Berlin. Over the years, I have traveled through eleven different European countries……each of them with its individual charming and intriguing characteristics, identities and ways of life. I have walked down the Champs Elysee in Paris; seem the Little Mermaid in the harbor of Copenhagen; sat through an opera at the Vienna Opera House; driven through the snowy peaks of the Alps Mountains, walked along the Danube River and browsed through the Rembrandt Museum in Amsterdam…..among other things.

The visits to any….and each….country in Europe are delightful and compelling. But….it is always Germany that has the magnetic attraction to draw me back time after time. And….and again….more specifically to the city of Berlin. When I add up the total time I have spent in Berlin, I find that I have spent more than one year of my life in that city. It probably is not an exaggeration that I know Berlin better than any other city in the world…..except for Topeka, Kansas.

There have been at least two other opportunities for exciting travel. I turned them both down…..and I am still kicking myself for it. My old boss, who was promoted to be military attache to Turkey, asked me to be his assistant near the end of my enlistment. At that time, I just plain did not see the advantages of it like I see them today. You know the old cliché: Hindsight is always 20/20. Well….I wish I had had my glasses on the day I told him that I was going to go ahead and get out of the Army. Shortly after I arrived back in Sterling after leaving the Army, the United Presbyterian Church extended an invitation to teach English in Ethiopia. At the time, that seemed to me to be highly undesirable…..given the unrest and unstable governments in that area. But, I have never been to Africa…..and I have always wanted to go to Africa. This would have been a good opportunity to do this.

After I got home from South Vietnam in 1969, after working for the International Voluntary Services, my dream was to start a private English language school in Hong Kong. I even wrote letters to the Ministry of Education….and to my Congressman….and probably some other people, too…. Nobody was adverse to the idea…..but I was amazed at the unbelievable sea of red tape which was required. That…..and the staggering amount of money it would take. Wow….it seemed like it would take “All the Gold in California”. So….you guessed it! I ended up in Valley Falls.

I realize that not everybody wants to travel….and not everybody can afford to travel…. cannot afford it in regards to both time and money. I was lucky. Teachers only work with a contract of nine months a year. However, we have the option to divide our salary into twelve equal payments so it will make it easier for us to live in the summer. (NO….we do not have a three months paid vacation….free and charged to the tax payers! Anybody who thinks that needs to become a teacher…..and find out first hand!)

During the summer, teachers have a couple choices, I suppose: become temporarily “unemployed” until the school year begins in late summer……or they can get a summer job to supplement their meager income from teaching. Many of those with families to support, of course, look for a summer job. I spent most of my summers coaching Junior Olympics….and traveling. With some discipline and some sacrifice, I was usually able to save enough money for one basic major trip….i.e. Camping….where ever I traveled.

My usual destination of choice was usually the Oregon Coast. The spectacular, breathtakingly beautiful Oregon Coast. I did this until I had my first exchange student. Once I made my first, wonderful trip to Germany….I never looked back. Europe was the place to go. Yes….I still travel within the U.S.A…..but my eyes are always set on Europe.

Throughout my life, I have traveled thru twenty-three countries of the world. No two of the countries are the same. And, in each of them I think I grew as a person, expanded my horizons, became more aware of, and learned to appreciate, different cultures and different ways of living. And, maybe, most important, I have come to the realization that people everywhere are basically the same. To type-cast or stereotype people is almost always inaccurate.

So….Yes: Choosing to following the road marked “Exchange Students” was one of my better choices. It has enriched and enhanced my life…..not only by their presence in my life, but also through the by-product of fulfilling my love of travel.

And, I would be negligent if I did not also mention the twenty or twenty-five other short term foreign guests who have shared my home in the years following my retirement. They also have played an important part in this story.

So…..there you have it. A sort of road map to the directions I have taken in my life. So….what do you think? Quite frankly, I think I did a pretty good job of deciding which road to travel. I am pretty good at reading Sign Posts. I don’t even use a GPS. But, actually, I don’t think I need one. Chances are….it would have always routed me to the easiest, quickest, dullest, most uninspired route. It is so much better to simply throw the map away……and rely on your own instinct  for your life’s journey.