Harry Hix

Was this in the wedding vows?

Apparently, the wedding vows I took 56 years ago (57 years midway through April) contained some fine print I was unaware of or failed to read. At least, I don’t recall in vowing to love her in sickness and in health any outline of nursing duties that would come my way if she fell on the ice and broke her right arm…and she’s right-handed.

But, obviously, there was a clause covering this. She did, and the myriad of things I had vowed to do, knowingly or unknowingly, were there to be done. What a learning experience!

Maybe I should have asked my marriage counselor a few more questions. I had no reason to be shy about asking him. He was my pastor, after all, and he doubled as my father. But, at age 18, I was exceptionally trusting and a bit shorter on perception than I became later in life; and, typical of still wet-behind-the-ears youth, I lacked the foresight or understanding that life ahead would not always be smooth sailing. Plus, I was entangled in the throes of romantic young love, which is a bit more blinding to the realities of life than is the mature love that develops and sustains as two people share the good times and bad times of life.

So, what did I miss in that fine print covered by my firm pronouncement, “I do!”?

Some of what I missed was not an issue. Some was expected; some was not. And some is probably best left to your imagination or, at least, not discussed in mixed company. For sure, I can identify one or two things that, if I had one, would be high on my anti-bucket list (the list of things I don’t hope or plan to do before I die), unlike the list many folks call their bucket list of things to achieve before departing this existence.

Rather than offering a specific anti-bucket list, let’s just settle for a mention of some things I have experienced in the past six weeks that I don’t plan on making a habit. A for-sure item on that list is putting her hair in curlers. That was a one-time occurrence during her convalescence and almost assuredly in her or my lifetime. Hair curling for a bald-headed guy is an unpracticed skill. I had to go no further than one curler to realize that hair is not fully cooperative in sticking to the roller and rolling up tightly. It wasn’t more than two or three curlers, one of which I dropped on the floor, into the project before I blurted out, “My guess, dear, is that I will lose my patience before you do.” She chuckled obligingly, but I heard no denial.

Some things went rather smoothly. Quick lessons had me successfully operating the dishwasher, the washer, the dryer, and the vacuum sweeper. In fact, I now have a degree of competence in each of these, as well as an increased appreciation of what she does regularly without the expressed appreciation I should be offering.

Mostly, the dishwasher, clothes washing, and running the dryer occurred without a hitch—one unbalanced washer load rumbling and vibrating the condo like one of the recent earthquakes is not a hitch. For the most part, I kept these duties caught up. However, I got myself involved in a little chore with the vacuum sweeper that may come back to haunt me. In our condo we have a stacked washer-dryer arrangement, and one day I decided to do some vacuuming around the washer-dryer closet, using the extension arrangements on the vacuum cleaner. Then, I noticed the air vents along the ceiling to move air from room to room had collected dust. Tackling that job, I found myself holding the vacuum sweeper up in the air with one hand while I used the other hand to reach up to the vents with the extension device. I ended up doing that in every room. So, why do I think a call will come in the future for me to repeat that feat since she has trouble reaching that high without standing on something?

Some things I will mention only in passing since they are a bit delicate to discuss. You can fill in the blanks. Let’s just say that there is a whole lot more to getting dressed for a woman than a man. I’ll leave it at that except for this brief personal assumption. It had to be a man who invented the clasp system for fastening and unfastening bra straps. A woman would have made it much simpler.

Of key significance is that we survived the six weeks. Yesterday, the doctor said her bone had healed and she could do away with wearing the sling. She survived my nursing, and our marriage is still intact. At least, I have not been informed that I am on the trading block.

Today, the dishwasher, clothes washer, and dryer all hummed away, and I didn’t load any of them. Supper is in the oven, and I’m not cooking it. Our household is returning to normal.

However, I think I’ll go say thank you and ask if there is anything I can do.

Is common sense in public education lost?

Flowers aren’t the only thing gone a long time passing to the graveyard. So is common sense in public education, blown to the graveyard of zero tolerance by the wind of political correctness.

Consider the suspension last week of a sixth-grade student at Bayside Middle School in Virginia Beach. Under the PC guideline of zero tolerance, the Good Samaritan girl obviously deserved to be suspended. After all, she was guilty of taking a small razor blade away from a fellow student who was cutting himself and thereby saved him from additional self-inflicted wounds; guilty of throwing the razor into the trash; and then guilty of reporting to the school administration the action she had taken.

You and I might have praised the girl for disarming the student and saving him from further harm to himself, while also cautioning her that she had endangered herself, and complimented her for the right action of then reporting the incident to the administration. We might have, but the administration did not. Instead, the girl was suspended and faced a school board hearing with possibly expulsion. Clearly, a decision lacking in common sense.

Needless to say, the girl’s mother was dumbfounded by the action. She told a TV reporter that she had attempted to obtain an explanation from the school but received no response. The reporter began investigating and the school provided a written report verifying the action taken. The school’s own report acknowledges that the girl did not carry the razor onto the school campus, did not retain it in her possession, did not wave it around or any way threaten anyone with it. Yet, she was suspended.

The news report gave no indication of any action taken regarding the student who had the razor in his possession, apparently a clear violation of the weapons policy, and who had been doing physical harm to himself.

Seems to me that just a small modicum of common sense would have dictated commendation to the girl, likely accompanied by counsel about action that endangers yourself. It would appear that if any suspension for violation of the school’s no-weapons policy was warranted, it would have been suspension of the person bringing the weapon on campus and using it, albeit against himself.

Why didn’t the girl just report the boy’s action to a teacher? Because, she said, there was no teacher in sight. Rather than leaving the boy there cutting himself while she located a teacher, she saved the boy from himself and then found a teacher.

With the too-frequent reports of people standing by or doing nothing while others are being injured, it was reaffirming to read about a young girl with the compassion and courage to act on another person’s behalf despite possibly endangering herself. Although her action resulted in a negative and unfair reaction—though the school board may yet show more common sense and rescind the unjust suspension—the girl remains firm in the conviction that she did the right thing.

Asked by the reporter if she would take the same action if she knew she would be suspended, the sixth-grader said she would. She thought it was the right thing to do.

Not my fault…this time

In the nanosecond it took for the open mayonnaise jar to plunge to the kitchen tile floor from my hand, I absolved myself of all guilt, assigned said guilt to my wife, and absolutely banished to oblivion any expletive deleted that might have come to mind or, worse yet, escaped my lips.

To understand and fully appreciate this, you must have a bit more knowledge and context for my reaction to what had just happened when I reached into the refrigerator door, grasped the lid of the mayo jar, and lifted it from its spot in the crowded door shelving. As it turned out, the jar—thankfully plastic, not glass—was not securely attached to the lid. That is, the lid had not been properly and tightly screwed onto the three-quarters-or-more-full mayo jar.

Thus, as I swung my arm away from the fridge with my fingers firmly gripping the blue lid, the jar detached itself from the lid (a high-sounding way of saying the jar fell), hitting the floor quicker than you can say…well, whatever you would say in that instance. Probably 99 times out of 100, the jar would land at an angle or on its side and belch a glob, probably a good-sized one, out of the opening and onto the tile floor, where it would spread far less evenly than I would spread it on bread with a knife.

Not this time. No, sir or ma’am, I don’t have accidents in the ordinary way. That’s too easily done. Instead, the jar did a beautiful swan dive (score it 9 to 9.5) and landed upside down on the tile. And no bounce. Really. It landed so squarely on the mouth of the jar, that it stuck the dive perfectly and remained dead still in the upside down position. I couldn’t have squatted down and slammed the jar into that position any better. No spilled mayo around the jar, no even one small speck.

At least, not until I picked up the jar.

Please understand that it was lunch time; I was preparing to make a sandwich; and my sweet wife, who has agreed to continue in that position, was an arm’s length away from me awaiting her turn to extract something from the fridge. What, I don’t recall. Cheese or yogurt or something.

I looked at her and blurted out, “Not my fault! I didn’t use it last.” Not sure, but I think my exclamation was uttered and on record before the mayo jar hit the deck. Maybe I’m guilty so often that when I’m innocent I have to make it known emphatically and instantly, if not sooner.

For greater context in understanding my reaction, you should know that on occasion (actually, several occasions) Carol (my wife, you may know or have assumed) has cautioned me, “Please be sure the lid is all the way on and is straight.” Sometimes, the lid doesn’t go on the first try or is somewhat crooked and therefore lacking in holding power. I think her polite, though not very subtle, suggestion (directive?) is offered because I tend to pick up the jar by the lid. Don’t you?

For some reason, she has this crazy fear that the lid will come off and mayo will be spilled six ways to Sunday, making a slimy mess. Turns out that unfounded fear was founded.

So, in that fear-filled moment when lid and jar parted company, the first thought that entered my mind was that I had sinned and not made sure the lid was securely in place. But faster than light travels or neutrons rotate, my mind flashed back to the last time we had used the mayo and I recalled that I had not had a sandwich. Praise be! Hallelujah, I had not sinned. It had not been one of the times I put the mayo away in the refrigerator. She had made the mistake. It was an Alka Seltzer moment for me, you know, “what a relief it is.”

I’m not sure who was most relieved. Me, because I was innocent. Or, her, because no vocal outburst came from my mouth and no temper flashed. Actually, we just stared at one another for a moment and then burst out laughing before teaming up to clean up. I lifted the jar and it gurgled, leaving behind a blob of mayo. Carol pulled a spatula from the drawer and scooped up the blob sans only a shiny, slimy, paper thin layer, which was quickly cleaned up with a damp sponge.

The fact that I was innocent this time beat the odds, frankly. I, not Carol, was much more likely to have left the lid not firmly in place. (Being the sweet person she is, she silently allowed me my moment of professed innocence.) However, you can be confident that it will be a long time—make that l—o—n—g time—before I put the mayo jar back in the fridge with a loosely attached lid.

After all, how could I possible hope to duplicate the perfect upside-down landing? That’s at least a hundred-in-one shot.

Let’s not make morals, values like officiating

Our morals and values today too often are like basketball officiating—uncertain and variable.

Basketball—college, not pro—can be an exciting, fast-paced game. Any given game can change momentum many times, and your emotions as a fan can soar or plummet rapidly. Despite all this, I am becoming less and less of a basketball fan each year. Especially, I am not a fan of the pro game. What’s exciting about a bunch of one-on-one match-ups being passed off as a game and super egos trash-talking, pounding their chests, or otherwise saying, “Look at me! I’m great!? Though I don’t watch entire games, I do on occasion watch portions of the Thunder games. I am impressed by Kevin Durant’s skill and the fact that he sees no need to run down the court after a basket pounding his chest.

The college game also has too much trash-talking and egotistical displays (today it’s often called exuberance; when I was a youth, it was called poor sportsmanship or being a hotdog), and these are turnoffs for me. The poor free-throw shooting of many college players also dismays me. But the real frustration, the number one reason for my diminishing interest in the game lies in one thing.

Officiating.

I simply cannot understand it. It seems to vary from official to official, from crew to crew, from game to game, and, often, from one half to the next. All too often, I hear analysts and play-by-play announcers, many of them former players or coaches, talk about the need to call a game tighter or comment on how the officials are calling the game tight at the start to set a tone for the game or are calling it differently in the second half than they were in the first half.

What? Where is the logic in this? The equality? The fairness? A rulebook exists to identify what is a foul. To my knowledge, there is not a clause in the rulebook saying that officials may interpret the rules as they wish or vary their interpretations from time to time or from situation to situation.

If something is a foul in one game, it should be in the next one. If it’s a foul in the first half, it’s a foul in the second. Otherwise, there really is not a rule and certainly not equality or fairness.

Particularly illogical are those in the final minute or seconds of a game: “That’s not going to be called a foul now; the officials are going to let them play.” “Let them play, they don’t want the officials determining the outcome of the game.” That’s all hogwash. If it was a foul earlier in the game, it is a foul at the end of the game. And, despite protests to the contrary, that is not allowing the players to determine the outcome of the game, it is the officials determining the outcome. Calling the foul at the end of the game is no more or no less determining the outcome than is calling the foul earlier in the game. Regardless of when a foul or whether a foul is called, it is a factor in determining the outcome.

Can we, as Christians, apply our morals and values in the same manner as officiating a basketball game, adhering strictly to them at times and at other times not adhering as strictly? Do we have the flexibility in adherence to our morals and values as basketball officials do to their interpretation and enforcement of the rules?

Clearly, the manner in which officials call the games affects how the game is played and what its outcome is. Similarly, I think the way in which Christians, and actually non-Christians, adhere to or follow their morals and values affects the way they live their lives and the outcome of those lives. Viewers of basketball games will react to the officiating and the results of the games, and those viewing your life and mine will react to what they see. Will seeing us be steadfast in adhering to our professed morals and values positively influence them? Or, will they be frustrated or negatively impressed by seeing us vary in the way in which we adhere to our morals and values?

What we do with our morals and values is our call.

Unexpected tip

Here’s a tip on a news story you will enjoy reading: http://journalstar.com/news/local/lincoln-waitress-receives-the-tip-of-a-lifetime/article_23f4f201-2b5c-5393-985f-4b7b12ea3d81.html

I enjoy finding news stories about unusual or interesting acts of kindness, and this is one I found this week. Frequently, I write about these stories, but today I choose just to give you a good tip on a story.

If you choose to read it, I think you will be glad you did.

A drunk: To seat or to escort out?

A professional acquaintance and friend wrote recently on Facebook that during a church service he was attending a drunk man entered the sanctuary, took a seat in a pew, and placed two open bottles of beer under the pew as though trying to hide them. The man was immediately escorted without resistance from the sanctuary. No information was given about what happened after he was removed from the sanctuary. I don’t know if he was offered counsel, turned over to the police, or what.

However, the incident raised some questions in my mind and caused me to contemplate the situation.

Was removing him from the sanctuary the right action? Did that cause more distraction or disturbance than might have occurred if the man had been allowed to remain seated? How would I have felt had I been there? What would be the reaction at my church if a drunk walked in and sat down in a pew? Would we react the same way or differently?

These and other questions have been gnawing at my mind, and I’m somewhat frustrated that I’m not reaching firm conclusions or answers. Truthfully, I seem to be asking as many questions as I am answering. So, I invite you to share my journey with me.

A drunk walking into a service, whether by accident or purpose, is not something we expect to happen and, most likely, is not something ushers have been trained to handle. My church, and perhaps yours, has some security measures in place to prevent late entrance into a service already under way or to make entry as unobtrusive as possible. We don’t want to distract from the worship mood we hope exists at each service. Although it is not likely or probable that a drunk man would enter the church building and the sanctuary without being stopped, I don’t think we can believe or assume that it could never happen.

So, if it did, what would be the right course of action?

Someone more versed in the Bible than I might be able to quickly cite verses that would provide some answers. My first thought was the admonition in James, Chapter 2, about how to react when a well-dressed, obviously rich man and a poor man in vile raiment enter the church. If we seat the expensively dressed man in “a good place” and tell the poor man to stand or, in effect, sit on the back row, James asks, Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?

While this passage does not mention a drunk, could it be that the principle presented in the scenario has application? The drunk, like a poor man in vile raiment, is just as much a soul in God’s sight as an expensively dressed man given favored seating. I recognize that two bottles of beer would be unacceptable in the sanctuary, but could those be removed without removing the man?

If the drunk is disruptive, such as being noisy or getting up and down from the pew, it might be appropriate to escort him out of the service, though I would hope that once outside of the sanctuary an opportunity for counsel and assistance would be offered.

However, there needs to be some agreed-upon definition for disruptive before removing someone from the service. For example, I remember a service in which a man fell asleep and began snoring. Our pastor paused in his sermon, requested that a deacon sit by the man and keep him awake, and then proceeded with the sermon. The result: minimal disruption and a man afforded the opportunity to hear the sermon.

Disruptive can also be cell phones going off or wandering in and out of the sanctuary or auditorium, whether to use the bathroom, get a drink, or whatever. I remember once visiting a church and finding it disruptive that a man dressed in walking shorts and wearing flip flops that went clickety-clack as he walked got up from his seat on the fourth or fifth row and walked in and out of the auditorium two or three times. He certainly did not appear to be drunk, but a quiet drunk man sitting in the back portion of the auditorium would definitely have been less disruptive. And no one escorted the man with his floppy flip flops from the auditorium.

In reflecting on the incident with the drunk man, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had come to church thinking he might find what he needed there. Escorting him out may have robbed him of that opportunity unless he was counseled after being removed from the sanctuary, and that is something I don’t know. I am convinced, though, that his soul was every bit as important to God as any of the sober souls in attendance.

Our pastor often encourages people to be mindful of not being a distraction during the service because we don’t want to take away from the worship of God. He often mentions that members and visitors are in the service for a reason and that some may be there as a divine appointment.

Could that have been true for the drunk man?

Unexpected Christmas bonus

While two wrongs do not make a right, two wrongs can work out with everything made right. At least, that’s what happened last week in Florida.

On Tuesday, Samantha Knight, a waitress at Laishley Crab House in Punt Gorda, FL, noticed $1,000 left at a table. She scooped up the wad of bills and scurried after the man she thought had left the money behind as he was leaving the restaurant. She gave the man the money and he thanked her. The incident was captured on tape.

But, she gave the money to the wrong man. That was the first wrong. The second wrong was the man accepting the money. The man who actually had left the money, Chuck Behm, called the next day to ask about his money. That, Knight told a reporter, left her wishing she had just kept the money and waited for someone to call. “But I thought I was giving it to the right guy.”

Behm and Knight both assumed the money was long gone. However, it wasn’t.

Later in the week, a TV station picked up on the story and included taped footage of Knight handing the money to the man she thought was the rightful owner. That man saw himself on the news and returned to the restaurant to give the money to Knight. He explained that he was from out of state, had been doing some Christmas shopping, had a significant sum of money in his pockets, and had assumed some had fallen out. So, he said, he had taken the money by mistake. Along with returning the $1,000, he gave Knight $100 for what she had done.

Behm was notified that the money had been returned and the restaurant would be happy to get it to him. He declined to accept the money, saying the situation could have happened in reverse. Instead, he asked that the money be given to Knight for Christmas. Knight said she was overwhelmed and called the man to be sure that was what he wanted.

Knight said she is pregnant and the unexpected $1,100 will be a significant help to her.

Giving is appropriate at any time of year, but it seems particularly so during the Christmas season, which for Christians is a time of celebration focused on giving. Not a focus on our giving of gifts and presents, but on the gift of a Savior for mankind. It is the birth of Christ, the Savior, which is the “reason for the season.”

I hope the birth of the Christ child is remembered and celebrated at your house as it is at ours.

Taking advantage of his opportunity

“Mama, I did it! I did it!”

Michael Thomas yelled it over and over, but no one really heard him. They were too busy jumping on him, slapping him, and celebrating. Others were screaming so loudly that the roar in the stadium drowned out anything the ecstatic, but overwhelmed, Thomas was yelling. He cried, too, but who noticed or cared?

That was Sunday afternoon, and Thomas had found himself not only living his dream but playing the role of hero. The cause for the celebration was that Thomas had just made a game-saving pass interception in the end zone to give the Miami Dolphins an upset victory over the long-time NFL powerhouse New England Patriots, and the interception had come against one of the great quarterbacks in league history, Tom Brady.

The play was enough drama in itself, but how it came to be made it even more special. You see, until Sunday Michael Thomas had never played in an NFL game, and he had entered the game on defense as a cornerback rather than his usual position of safety only five minutes before corralling the dramatic pass interception. Plus, he had been on the team such a short time that not all the team members knew his full name and his coach in an TV post-game interview seemed not to remember his name.

Earlier in the week, Thomas had been a member of the San Francisco practice squad as a safety. His dream was to make the roster of an NFL team. He had spent all of last season and so far this season on the 49ers’ practice squad. Monday morning he slept in late after San Francisco’s Sunday night game. When he finally awoke at 10:20 a.m., he discovered four calls on his cell phone from his agent and a text message saying, “WAKE UP! There is a team that wants you. If you don’t wake up soon, they’re going to move on.” He called his agent and was told that Miami was offering him a spot on it 53-man roster. The Holy Grail was within reach. He made a 2:30 flight out of San Fran and arrived in Miami.

On Tuesday he began working with Dolphins’ assistant defensive backs coach Blue Adams, but he took no defensive snaps in practice all week. However, he said it became clear that he would have an opportunity to play on special teams. His dream was coming true. He was on a team roster and would play in a game.

But it was more than just a game to the Miami Dolphins. Miami had not beaten the Patriots in the last seven tries. Now, a win would be a big boost in the team’s battle to earn a spot in the upcoming NFL playoffs. And Thomas was part of this.

On Sunday, he played on two special teams units and made a tackle on a punt play. Then, in the fourth quarter, cornerbacks Nolan Carroll and Brent Grimes went down with injuries. The Dolphins needed a cornerback, but Thomas was a safety. He had played safety at Stanford and in practice for the 49ers. But, with only five minutes to play, Miami need a cornerback, not a safety.

“You want your opportunity?” Coach Adams said. “It’s time.”

After the game, Thomas commented in a phone interview, “I was pretty emotional. I was going out there knowing Tom Brady was coming after me.”

He was right. On the first play, Brady threw to the receiver Thomas was covering for a gain of 11 yards. The next play, Brady came Thomas’ way again, but for only two yards this time.

Unfamiliar with playing the position, Thomas depended on teammate Reshad Jones, a safety, to tell him what to do, where to go and whom to cover. With 27 seconds left and New England on Miami’s 19-yard-line, Jones nodded toward Danny Amendola, one of Brady’s favorite receivers, and alerted Thomas, “You got no help.” Thomas ran with Amendola and, sure enough, the pass was to him. It sailed over Thomas’ head and toward Amendola’s hands. Thomas had learned long ago as a defensive back to play through the receiver’s hands. Trailing Amendola, he reached in and did his best to disrupt the catch. He succeeded in knocking the ball away. No touchdown.

But the game wasn’t over. Three plays later, it was fourth down from the 14 and time for one last play. This time, Thomas was one of two Dolphins in the coverage. He jumped and snared the ball. That was when he fell to the ground, yelling, “Mama, I did it!”

After the game, Thomas said, “I am overwhelmed. It is so much to realize, how my life has changed and how this happened. Tom Brady throwing at me, and I answered the call. The only thing I can say is I am blessed.”

Michael Thomas realized his dream of making an NFL roster and then succeeded in a dramatic way when opportunity arose. Not all of us will have the opportunity for something that dramatic, but almost all of us have a dream we would like to realize. Certainly, when that dream opportunity arises, we want to succeed.

But lest we allow opportunity to slip by, let’s remember that the dream for us won’t be a matter of being lucky any more than it was with Michael Thomas. Some would contend that Thomas was lucky, at least quite fortunate, to get the opportunity to play for the Dolphins and then be in a key situation. I would agree that he was in the right place at the right time, but it was not solely a matter of luck.

First, Thomas had to work hard at developing his skills. He had to play the game for several years and then continue to work and practice as a member of the 49ers’ practice squad for almost two years. In other words, he worked for and prepared for the opportunity he dreamed of getting. Had he not done so, he would never have been in position to make a team and then make a dream play.

In the Book of Proverbs in the Bible, we are warned about being slothful or lazy and that those who are will not succeed. Had Thomas not been willing to work hard, he would not have been in position to succeed. Actually, one moment of extra time in bed almost cost him his opportunity. A few more minutes of sleep and the Dolphins would have signed someone else.

Michael Thomas had his moment, but it was one he had prepared for. When the moment arrives for you and me, will we have prepared for it? Or, will it slip by while we complain about how unlucky we are?

She believes in working

Hearing about someone in this culture of entitlement saying that she wants to work for what she receives is refreshing, especially so when that desire is expressed, and acted upon, by a young person.

Madison Root, an 11-year-old in Oregon, needed braces, which were going to cost $4,800. She decided the right thing to do was to chip in and raise money to help her dad pay for the braces. Madison went to her uncle’s farm, cut and chopped fresh mistletoe, and wrapped it to be sold in individual packages, each with a red bow.

Then, on a recent Saturday she took her merchandise and starting selling the packages of mistletoe in the downtown Portland city park, where the Portland Saturday Market holds its weekly venue. That’s a place with crowds, and she was doing business until a private security guard asked her to stop selling because a city ordinance bans conducting business or soliciting at a park without proper approval.

“I wouldn’t think I’d have any problems because people are asking for money, people are selling stuff, this is a public place,” Madison told a TV reporter, who noted that she was right—up to a point. The reporter noted that people were protesting, holding signs, and begging all over the area. Within 10 steps of Madison, a person could buy whistles, order crepes or sign a marijuana petition, the reporter said.

But, you couldn’t open a business without going through the market’s formal application process. The market sets rules for vendors, which Madison agreed makes sense, but she apparently had trouble understanding why so much begging was going on and that she could beg without coming under strict city ordinance regulation.

Mark Ross, spokesman for the Portland Parks Bureau, said begging was a form of free speech and protected under the First Amendment. The private security guard who asked Madison to stop selling told her she could sell her products on a city sidewalk outside the park’s boundaries or she could simply ask (that is, beg) people for donations for her braces.

“I don’t want to beg! I would rather work for something than beg,” Madison said. “It’s crazy. People can get money for pot, but I can’t get money for braces. I’m working for this! They’re just sitting down on their butts all day asking for pot.”

“I want to do something for a good cause. I don’t want to beg.”

Right after KATU News carried a story Sunday evening on Madison’s efforts, a viewer called in to order 30 bags of mistletoe. Her father reported that “mistletoe orders mushroomed.” He also said that McKinzei Farms, one of the biggest Christmas tree farms in the area, made a $1,000 donation to Madison’s braces.

Madison now has her braces.

Granted, Madison needed to adhere to city regulations, a point she did not dispute, but that is not the point here. Rather, the point is the attitude and conviction expressed by Madison. Don’t beg when you can take the initiative and work for something. That fits well with biblical admonitions about work.

Yes, a coach did this

When you think of a football coach, is your first thought that of a coach bellowing angrily on the sidelines at a player or game official, a coach making some snarling comment to the media, or a coach just ranting? Or, is the first image in your mind that of a coach penning a note of encouragement or thoughtfully extending words of condolence or compassion in a time of despair or personal tragedy?

I’m kidding about the second set of alternative images, right? Wrong. I am, however, assuming a stereotype that suggests the most likely first image to come to mind when the words “football coach” are uttered would be something akin to the first images listed in my question.

I won’t name any coaches, but I am confident that any of you who attend football games or watch them on TV have recently seen verbal tirades from coaches or witnessed actions I assume you would not tolerate in your children.

Gentlemanly. Thoughtful. Compassionate. Encouraging.

Quite likely, these are not words that quickly come to mind as being synonymous with the football coaches frequently in the news.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t apply to many coaches. They do, and I like to remember that when I see a coach raging in anger.

One of the first coaches who comes to mind is Bill Snyder at Kansas State, a man I would like to meet someday.

Snyder is a top-notch coach, as his record will attest, and he is also a classy person, as his actions attest. I have never seen him rant or rage along the sideline or offer caustic or derogatory comments in interviews after a game, win or lose. Every sportswriter I have talked to over the years who has dealt with Snyder refers to the man as a gentleman.

Not long ago, I read an article about Snyder taking time after a game to write a personal, handwritten letter to a player on the opposing team complimenting him on his fine play and wishing him success in the future. What a thoughtful and encouraging gesture. That letter was not the only one Coach Snyder has written. Turns out this is something he does on a regular basis.

He is thoughtful in other ways, also. In 1999, Phil Bennett had just started his job as defensive coordinator on Coach Snyder’s staff at KSU when his wife was struck by lightning while jogging. Just over two weeks later, she died, leaving behind her husband and two children, a son age 11 and a daughter age 7. Three days after her mom’s death, the daughter had her 8^th birthday. In this time of need, Coach Snyder stepped in and organized a celebration birthday party in the K-State coaches’ offices with about 400 people in attendance.

“I wouldn’t be a coach today if it wasn’t for Bill Snyder,” Bennett told the Kansas City Star. “He saved my life.”

Several years later, in the fall of 2011, Glenn Spencer, then an assistant coach and now defensive coordinator at OSU, lost his wife when she died due to a heart condition. That left Spencer and his two sons on their own. Bennett immediately sat down and wrote a personal note of encouragement and comfort to Spencer.

I find these coaches admirable for these traits, and I also note that they are successful coaches. Snyder has a hall of fame career, and Spencer and Bennett are defensive coordinators for the two Big 12 teams ranked nationally in the top 10 in the BCS standings—OSU and Baylor, respectively.

These men strike me as coaches whom players would like to play for, and their success suggests that this is a fair assumption.