To The “Class of ‘74”….and more

Part 2 of 4

Freshman Year

The weeks passed by and it seemed each day I became more at ease. I made new friends and school seemed to be less the fearsome thing it had appeared before. I remember lunch and sitting at the table with Buddy Bunch, Randall Davis and a few other guys. Buddy was the first person to introduce me to putting potato chips on my bologna sandwich, something I still do to this very day. Randall tried to talk me into sipping my milk thru my nose…although he never tried it himself.

Football came and went (thankfully for our not-so-talented squad) and basketball took over. And with that came my first meeting with Coach Curtis. To this day I still remember his staccato-like responses to questions/teachings on the court. He was a demanding, yet somewhat kind person, but expected “the best” from you each time. Make a mistake once, and he seemed calm, twice he “gently” reminded you…a third time meant you did some time running to help you remember.

What was worse for me is that he was friends with Coach Michael, and would sometimes stop by Coach Michael’s General Science class during basketball season. I started to believe at some point it was to chide both Donnie Hannah and myself…but one visit wasn’t so nice.

Remember the broken window I talked about earlier? The one in Speech Class/Homeroom?

Funny thing about Coaches…..they are a clan, and they keep tabs on their students back then. My seat end was still smarting from the day before and my visit to Coach Shepherd’s office for my swat after breaking the window. The bell had rung and normally class started immediately, but not today. In looking back now I should have known something was coming by the look on Coach Michael’s face. He had that grin, that one that always told you he knew something you didn’t and it wasn’t ever going to turn out well for you.

“Mr. Kilgore” I heard him say….”you have a visitor who would like to speak with you.”

I turned to look….it was Coach Curtis wielding Coach’s Michael's paddle.

“Mr. Kilgore, would you like to step out into the hallway so we can speak about a certain incident from yesterday”.

At that point the lump in my throat felt like I had tried to swallow a golf ball and sweat was pouring out of me like I was under cross examination by the IRS. I hesitated…hoping.

“Come on Mr. Kilgore…if I have to ask again the wind sprints you did last night will seem like a walk in the park compared to what you will be doing during practice this afternoon.”

I got up and walked out to a chorus of “ooh’s and ahh’s” and of course Donnie Hannah telling me “it was good to know you Mark.”

I stepped into the hallway with my knees shaking, pondering what was coming next. Little did I know that I was going to be part of a ruse. When we were out of sight of the classroom Coach Curtis handed me a thick history book and told me to hold my hands flat as he placed it on them. He told me to make sure not to move that it wouldn’t hurt if I just kept my hands flat and solid. Coach Michael was standing at the door to the classroom, “witnessing” the incident. Coach Curtis then said in a loud voice, "this is what happens when one of my players gets sent to Coach Shepherds office for a behavior issue."

And with that he came down hard on the book…making a very loud “smack’ that brought a chorus of shock from the General Science class, sure that I wasn’t going to be able to sit. Coach Michael even made a facial expression that enhanced the shock for everyone.

Coach Michael left the doorway and joined Coach Curtis right near me. For the next couple of minutes they talked with me quietly about what had happened the day before. They both explained they knew the circumstances and understood what I had been trying to do, but that I should have used common sense and not taken the course I did. They expected more of me….and wouldn’t tolerate anything like that happening again. And with that Coach Curtis turned to leave…turned back around and said, “we’ll discuss this more tonight at practice”.

I looked at Coach Michael, he smiled and then said:

“Let’s stay here for a moment for effect….let people think about it a little more”

That day I got the message….and so did a couple of other people.

Oh….and as for the admonition that Coach Curtis gave me before leaving? I found out what it was like to run the stairs in the Lewis Junior High School gym while the rest of the team was practicing.

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The only other time I got to visit Coach Shepherd’s office that year wasn’t my fault. Really, it wasn’t. The story is too embarrassing to tell. Maybe if I see you at the reunion I will tell you.
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The rest of the year seemed to fly by.

Basketball came and went. Spring came and I had hoped to play baseball, but alas Freshmen weren’t allowed to play on the Varsity in those days. So I needed something to fill my spare time and got roped into doing the Freshman play, “Up The Down Staircase”.

Being in Ms. Reeves Speech Class in 6th hour, we weren’t really given a choice whether we wanted to try out or not. It was part of our grade in class….not the play, trying out. If you gave it a half-hearted attempt you were going to get marked down , and it could affect your overall grade.

I had been in several plays in grade school, never really more than background characters. I remember once in grade school one of the teachers wanted to do a play about “bad boys” who wouldn’t learn. I was one of the “bad boys” who came to learn that “school was cool”. Luckily the play closed after one night. I also remember a “serio-comedy” that Randy and I got chosen to do during the Spring Play only because the play was about brothers. In the play, Randy was the character playing the serious Romeo, and my character was the younger brother who, due to the illness of the lead female character who was to play Juliet, was forced to ad-lib Juliet’s lines. It was great…and a shame we never did something like that again….Randy was always a great “straight guy” to my comedian.

But back to the story at hand…..I remember my audition. I swear I wasn’t really even trying to get the part. I knew if I did I would take a ribbing by my jock friends for being in the play. But yet….no matter how much I downplayed it, I got the part of Dr. Bester, the codger of a Principal for the school. And boy, was I right about the ribbing….everything from “is it fun to wear make-up” to “you know, that gray looks good on you, even at this age”.

The odd part about that play….once we started rehearsal, I really enjoyed my role. The stodgy, stuffy, Dr. Bester was perfect for me. Not many lines, a character you loved to hate, and a guy who with no real reason to, thought he was charming to the lady teachers. (I think in reality I felt just like him, because when it came to ladies, I had all the savior-faire of a bull moose in a china shop)

There were a lot of great memories from that year of making new friends.

And there were a few mischievous things too. Anyone remember tormenting Mr. Bowman when we would hum during his English Class.

I remember a Secret Admirer….and secretly admiring someone(s). And my first experience of having an “out of town” girlfriend.

I remember going to the High School Football games on Friday night and walking around with the rest of the jocks, only occasionally sitting down long enough to chat for a few minutes before getting up to “cruise” to see who else was there.

I remember how, during basketball season when we had away games, a bunch of us would pool our money and go to the A&P grocery to pick up stuff to take with us to eat after the game.

And I remember in the Spring during baseball season, instead of riding the bus home, I would grab a hamburger wherever I could and head to Siloam Field. I would sit on the ground on the top of the hill and watch the HS baseball team play, wistfully wishing I could be out there on the field. When I was young, and even in Jr. High/High School, baseball was my escape….and it was my first love. I bet I bugged Coach Michael a thousand times in class just to let me just practice with them. And he would smile and say….wait your turn will come.

It was a year of making new friends, and drifting away from some of those I had grown up with.

I had just been lucky enough to be interviewed to appear for the school newspaper, Tiger Tales. While I saw it as pretty cool, I took a lot of good-natured ribbing for my “not really all that cool” answers to the “hard hitting’ questions. (It wasn’t the reporter’s fault….she had decent questions, I just had the “not so cool” answers)

I remember for some reason, not disciplinary, I was sitting in class talking to Coach Michael. We were talking just general topics, mostly about whether or not I had enjoyed my first year at Excelsior Springs. I told him that although it had it’s up and down moments , it wasn’t scary as I thought it was going to be. And that I really enjoyed all the new set of friends I had made….but, there was this one thing.

Puzzled, Coach Michael looked at me and asked….”so what was it that you didn’t really like.”

I said…”you know Coach, while I love watching football, playing it didn’t really seem to be as much fun as I thought. I wasn’t really all that good, and seeing the guys on Varsity who are much bigger than me, I am sure I will get killed. I just want to play basketball and baseball next year.”

I remember it distinctly…..he had been leaning back in his chair taking it all in. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and said…

“ Mark….if you really didn’t enjoy football all that much then don’t play. But can I tell you something…I think it’s a big mistake. I could tell you all the things coaches normally tell you about playing sports and being in shape all year. I could tell you that you’re still just a Freshman and that with a little work in the summer, you could get enough muscle to be able to hold your own.”

“But that’s not the real reasons you should play. You love playing sports….and being part of a team. And that’s where you made most of your friends this year. And you will regret it if you don’t.”

And he was right….for all the fun I had that year, the one thing that defined me becoming who I was, it was sports. I wasn’t all that great at football my Freshman year but I had fun….I finally learned how to dribble a basketball without having to look at it….I actually even learned (somewhat weakly) how to do a right handed layup.

But what I learned more than anything else that year was that I loved playing sports….being on a team, win or lose, and trying my best. I made friendships that lasted for years….they produced great memories….and playing sports helped me to understand the concept of Team, not the individual.

And more than anything… football produced the one thing that has lasted a lifetime for me.

My 15 minutes of Fame… and the beloved nickname that has followed me all my life.

Next up:

Part 3….The Legend of Golden Toe

To The “Class of ‘74”….and more

Part 1 of 4

Freshman Year

I remember the first time I stepped off the bus at Lewis Junior High School….like most of us who came from Mosby I was a bit nervous about going to the much bigger school district. All my life there had been mostly my 14 fellow grade school classmates in our small country school. Now I was going to a school where my Freshmen classmates numbered more in the 350 to 400 range. And more chilling to me was that I assumed most of them already knew each other well. I was thinking how I just knew I was going to stick out and would be the proverbial foible to pranks by some of my new classmates.

But a funny thing happened on my way into school…you see, every Saturday morning from the time I was 6 and could pick up a bowling ball, my dad took my older brother Randy and I to bowl in the Prep/Junior bowling league at the old Y-Bowl. And there I had met and made friends who I had bowled with all those years. Imagine my relief when I saw several of those same people trudging into school recognizing me and saying “hello”. And it made it easier when a couple of those same people not only had a locker near me (especially since I had never encountered a locker before Junior High) but also had 1st Hour with me.

That first day seemed so surreal…the fears of being lost in the crowd subsided when, as I went to each new class, I was introduced to someone new. It seemed, for once, being the new kid in class actually was a good thing. There were no preconceived notions of who I was save for the teachers who were sure I would be like my older and much smarter brother Randy. (Boy were they wrong)

So here we were…the Class of ’74 in our Freshman year.

For some, like me, it was a year of big changes. For others, life was the same as always.

People who know me now cannot believe that when I was younger I was a shy young kid. I always drifted to the back of the crowd….hiding in fear of being recognized or ridiculed if I stood out or spoke up. When they ask me what changed that, I always blame several things….

Freshman Speech Class/Home Room.

Think back Class of ’74 members….if you had Ms. Reeves Speech Class our Freshman year and it was also your Home Room, you are responsible for my change from a shy young lad to the rather outgoing personality whom you see now. (I remember many of you so you can’t escape with a not guilty plea)

Well, that and Football/Baseball. But we can talk about those later.

You see, it was there that I lost my fear of being me, not just Randy Kilgore’s younger brother. And for that I am thankful….somehow, in all this new scenery I was just Mark.

It was there I made my very first Speech in front of class…by myself…knees knocking and all. And I neither threw up, nor ran from the room in fear. (I remember when I ran for Student Council Secretary in HS and had to give a speech in Assembly I used all the things we learned is Speech Class)

It was from that class that I got my very first important role in a school play. (Remember “Up The Down Staircase”?)

And it was in that class I got my very first threat to have my head dunked in the toilet.

I got my very first swat with a paddle from Mr. Shepherd when Shelby Smith and I fought over closing one of the windows on a cold Winter day. (And that wasn’t the only punishment I got that day for that transgression…but once again we can talk about that later)

But in reality it wasn’t really just the Speech Class….you all just built the foundation.

Freshman Sports…

We never really had any organized sports growing up in Mosby, save for the town baseball team that we all played in during the summer. So, imagine my bewilderment when I walked into the locker room to put on my practice pads for football.

First…I had never seen a real locker room, nor did I have a clue about what all the pads you had to wear as part of your uniform were for. (Found out the first day how important a cup and hip pads were)

We got all the leftover equipment from the Varsity squad, so you can imagine what a rag-tag group we looked like as we put on our uniforms. Sliding on everything seemed so foreign to me, but that wasn’t the ultimate embarrassment when it came to the uniforms…..the real insult came when you got your helmet. Anyone remember the “Roger Ramjet” helmets some of us were forced to wear?

We were never really a force to be reckoned with, that Freshmen team. I’m not even sure what our record was. I just remember learning that Coaches love to torture their players making them do endless jumping jacks, figure-eight rolls, and laps around the field. I remember thinking after that year, maybe I wasn’t really cut out for football and I wouldn’t go out next year when I was a Sophomore because all the guys in the older classes were so big and I was sure that I would be killed. I only told one person that….and the person I told would forever change the direction of my life.

Coach Michael...

It’s hard to forget the first time you meet the person who truly changed the course of your life. We all have a “fork in the road” somewhere in our lives where the choices we make alter the direction of where our lives go. And we all have friends or mentors who give us wisdom or provide guidance. For me, it came in the form of a person who not only became my mentor, but is now someone I see as a friend.

I was never really any good when it came to Science growing up…so when it came time to choose between Physical Science and General Science, I chose the one that meant I didn’t have to cut up dead frogs. I remember the first day walking into that room as if it was almost yesterday….the faces all seem so vivid now.

Mike Ambrose, Marcia Anderson, Connie Carver, Lenore Clarito, Les McNeely, Donnie Hannah….and sitting at the front of the class, the teacher. I remember thinking walking into that room…man that teacher can’t be much older than all of us, and for sure not taller. I wondered, listening to all that noise in the class before the bell, if this guy was going to be able to handle what seemed to be an unruly bunch.

The bell rang…and I heard these rather commanding words:

“Ladies and gents, please turn around, face the front and stop talking. I am Mr. Michael, this is General Science and if you aren’t supposed to be here, then you need to hit the door quickly, walk at a safe but speedy pace and be prepared with the excuse you will need to give the teacher”.

Deathly silence….no one moving.

“Good, then everyone is supposed to be here. I only have 3 rules for my class and if you follow them you will do fine here. One, be on time or if you are late you should have an excuse that would make me cry. Two, when I am talking, you aren’t. If you are and you don’t stop when I ask you to, then you might find yourself on the wrong end of my paddle or Mr. Shepherd’s paddle. And lastly, always be prepared by having your assignments done before you come to class. Follow these 3 rules and we will have a great year….don’t follow them and it will be a very long year for you.”

And true to his word…it was a great year. That class was fun, we learned, we laughed, we learned some more. There were days of intense studying and days when Donnie, Les and David Moss seemed to entertain the crowd with their antics and Mr. Michael would just make sure he contained the mayhem.

But it was the first day that is forever etched in my mind as to how special “Coach” Michael would become. You see, on my first day at Lewis Junior High School there was really only one downside to the day. In each one of my classes, as the teacher would call roll, they would call my name, stop and ask, “are you Randy Kilgore’s younger brother?” I would answer the proverbial, “yes, he is my older brother” and would get the “ah so I won’t have to worry about you will I.” (Just one time I wish I would have answered with something rather than yes)

Everyone knows the frustration of being labeled “someone’s younger sibling” when you are growing up. I didn’t begrudge my older brother who he was, I just wanted to be ME and for people to see me differently.

I remember it vividly….Coach Michael was going thru the roll…calling out each name. I was prepared for the question I had gotten so many times before. He got to my name….”Kilgore, Mark?” I acknowledged and prepared to answer as I had all day. Waiting for the next question I was for sure would be asked, all I heard next was “King, Shelley”.

I was stunned….no, actually pleased. The roll call continued, then was finished and class began. I don’t think I really heard much that day in his class.

For once….I was just me.

Footprints of My Life- The Final 10

An observation from my journey….

It was little more than a year ago I decided to start out on a journey that was sparked by a recommendation of a friend to seek out those who have molded and shaped my life over the years. Along the way I have learned a bit about myself and those whose paths I have crossed. At times I have been reminded me that I could have been better friend to some and other times I have been reminded that I let some into my life that did not allow me to show “my better angel”.

Reminiscing about all the good things that have happened in your life is the easy part…reminiscing about when you were wrong or where you wronged is tougher on the soul. Sometimes those mistakes are made out of an honest lack of knowledge and sometimes we just don’t think before we do. It’s the latter that has the deepest cut and most usually are the hardest to forgive no matter whether they are recent or are mistakes from a long time ago. Sometimes saying you are sorry to someone or having someone say they are sorry isn’t really the aloe of life…and you realize that forgiveness is something that may never happen.

I think that is the lesson that was hardest for me to learn….forgiveness is something that may never come or that you may find hardest to give! In my youth I let anger fester and grow when I felt wronged….with family, with friends and mostly with those I saw as enemies. But yet I always expected that forgiveness when I had done something wrong no matter whom it was. As I have gotten older/wiser(?) I have found that having a hard heart toward others that may have wronged me only ages me…not those who may have committed the wrong. And continuing to carry it in my heart does me no good. But that does not exempt me from seeking forgiveness when I have made my mistakes…so here goes:

To all my family, friends and others who have crossed my path of life…there were times that I said something wrong/hurtful/spiteful…times that I did something in my heart that I knew was wrong…or just times I forgot you were there and may have needed me. I want to ask for your forgiveness and let you know I will try harder to be better whether or not we ever meet in person again. I will seek to show my “better angel” when I am with others…and remind myself to forgive others in the same manner I wish to be forgiven.