My dear wife, Carrie, and I were on Lake Erie yesterday morning after two days and nights not far from Cleveland and at a usually very tranquil spot.

Yesterday morning we found it more Lake Eerie than its proper name.

Ideally, this is what you have to look forward to when you head up to this peaceful little Lake House built for two in Willowick.  The place can be as peaceful and calm as any place you can find.  But, on occasion, you can also hear Deep Purple singing in the background.  The song Smoke on the Water certainly comes to mind.

This was not fog.  This was smoke rolling in Tuesday evening.  It came on in a hurry.  Leaving the next morning was like something out of a Twilight Zone episode.  The was an apocalyptical feeling.  Nasty, I tell you.  Our disdain never let up on the way home.  Yes, the air quality did improve.  But this old boy and his breathing troubles never got out of the house even today in good old Southern Indiana.  It has to get better.

On a lighter note, it dawned on me this morning that it was 30 years ago that my dear friend Malcolm “Corner King” Lincoln and I saw the Moody Blues at Deer Creek in Noblesville, IN.  They played with a full orchestra that night.  The first of many orchestra shows I was able to witness.  The last being in September of 1999.

Corner King and I had so much fun together cruising down the road listening to The Moody Blues.  When we threw around a baseball in the yard, we always listened to The Moodies.  The last thing we did together was to cruise up to Fort Wayne two months before he passed away.  That night The Moody Blues were playing with an orchestra in the Allen County Memorial Coliseum.  We got home in the wee hours of the next morning, glad we had done it.

Last week I was in Brownstown on assignment.  While there I stopped at the Brownstown Elementary School and spent some time strolling through a school building that opened up a month or so late in the 1973-74 school year.  The first six years the building was open, I spent kindergarten thru the 5th grade there.  Great times I can tell you.  Anyone who spent time with me in the North Harrison 6th grade classroom I was exiled to that year will tell you, after looking at this photo of our school library at BES, they understand why I felt like I was experiencing a “Back to the Future” moment in the antiquated North Harrison Elementary School at the time.  I was there before Michael J. Fox.

The library above was empty, as new carpet had been laid recently.

In this gym, I was the captain of one team in the 5th Grade Volleyball Tournament.  I named the team The Bengals.  I wanted to win.  When it game to choosing players, I didn’t pick my friends to be on my team.  Put 6 squirrely 5th grade boys on one side of the net and you’ll spend a great deal of time chasing the ball.  It starts to look like popcorn flying around.  No, this time I knew what I was doing and that was new territory for me.  I didn’t choose my friends to be on my team.  I chose girls whose mothers played league volleyball at the town park across from the little league baseball field I was playing on.  We didn’t lose a game.

Finally, after using this facility, I told my friend Adam Disque that the last time I used that room Carter was in the White House. It was a long time ago.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

The man is an artist.  He sees what the rest of us do not.  The finished product you and I see is not the finished product he sees.  We will admire one of his masterpieces and he will think of what could have been better about it.  That is what an artist does.  There is always something else for an artist to chase down.

Being a songwriter I understand some of this.  I believe I understand Jerry Brown more than most.

Jerry Brown is the owner of a prominent commercial signage business called Celery Signs in Medora, IN.  Jerry started the business in 1989.  He and his wife, Tammy, have worked hard and harder.  In time the sign ball got rolling.  Rolling so strongly that Jerry decided teaching art in the middle and high schools of Brownstown Central would have to be on someone else.  Eventually he added his business minded son, Clay, to the fray.  When I learned that Clay’s creativity was being infused in the business as well, I shook my head in part awe and part happiness for my friend.  Both of these guys coach football at Brownstown Central in the process.  That is another column for sure.

Jerry Brown and I have been friends for fifty years.  We went to elementary school together.  In 1979 I left Brownstown.  Leaving Jerry Brown was the hardest part of that for me.  What can I say?  We still got it.  When we turn up together, we carry on.  These times are far and few between.  Doesn’t matter.  We carry on.

Jerry’s work?  Yes.  That is why we are here right now. 

Look.  What I am going to share with you what constitutes less than a thimble of an ocean of art that dots Southern Indiana.  I can tell you I enjoyed every minute of this journey.  I thought about old times we had together.  We were in each other’s weddings.  His parents, Tom and Gleda, were my parents away from home.  The laughs and tears we have shared are one reason this was a fast day.  These photos are the best I can do to share the work of my friend and true artist Jerry “Celery” Brown.

Jerry and I spent our early years of school at Brownstown Elementary School.  Today I walked into that building and was met by an entrance that was so welcoming and true.

Inside the school is this sign.  This is a personal favorite.  The “Be Nice” part was inspired by our elementary principal, Harry Spurgeon.  I adopted “Be Nice” and shared it for 15 years at Medora Schools. At Medora, “Be Nice” was eventually the post script after the daily announcements over the school intercom.  The current principal at Brownstown Elementary School is Marty Young.  Marty was a young elementary school teacher at Medora when he got his start.  And now, every morning the last thing Mr. Young says to end the announcements is “Work Hard and Be Nice.”  This kind of full circle stuff is better in real life than anything Hollywood can try to muster.

Down the road from BES, on Highway 250, is Brownstown Electrical Supply.  I not so sure this is not my favorite Celery Sign.

The Peoples Bank in Brownstown.  It’s all about the GREEN.

On Bridge Street, not far from where my great-grandmother, Ivy Nowling, lived for 53 years, I found the Street Department sign.  That it includes the Courthouse is spot-on.

I fell in love with this the first time I saw it.  I thought long and hard about climbing one of those poles and claiming one for myself.  As a child, I lived four blocks east of the courthouse and a corn field away for the Jackson County Fairgrounds.

Many of these line the length of the town’s main street.

This is the courthouse.  I lived down the road from where that white SUV is parked.  The last proper street in Brownstown, Jackson Street.

I believe this belongs to Brownstown Electrical Supply, hence BESCO.  The property was originally a bed and breakfast (I think).  I ate lunch in the place once.

If you know anything about Marion-Kay Spices on Highway 50 just west of town, you know this sign did it right.  Classic design and wonderful detail.

If my hound was sick, I would look for this sign!

Located next to the old barber shop, Studio spf (stretch, pray, fit) has a welcoming soothing sign.

Crothersville knew what they were doing when they called Celery Signs.

This is a nice place to eat.  The Cortland Diner.

Oh my!  What a great sign.  Grant and Mark better be happy!  I guess those guys are still around.

If you drive from Brownstown to Seymour on Highway 50, the road that stretches from the Atlantic Ocean (Maryland) to the Pacific Ocean (California), you know this sign.  Trees and shrubs as far as the eye can see.

Heading into the football locker room next to Blevins Stadium?  You can find Celery Signs there too.

And on the side of the locker room.

The BC Admin Building.  I hear this one is due an update.  Looks good to me.

On Highway 135 will find a great nine hole golf course.  This sign was a great addition to the place.  As it should be, Jerry plays here regularly.  I played this course when I worked at Medora.

The last two stops today were most personal for me.  

I spent fifteen years working at Medora Schools.  I looked on from both sides of this sign today.  The visit was good.

The last stop.

To have this in the building where I work is special.  In August I will begin my 8th year at North Harrison.  This is the place I went to high school.  Like I said, this is special.  There is a great deal of unspoken feeling that goes with this wall.  Kids and parents and staff can look at it and admire it.  I can admire and appreciate and thank the artist in a way they can never dream of.

For me, that is the problem.  Jerry’s work is so good and so all over the place that it will never find the appreciation it deserves.  I get it.  He gets paid.  I’m not talking about that.  One artist to another, Jerry, this never ceases to amaze me.  I am proud to call you my friend.  Keep chasing it down.  It only gets better.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

My fascination with poetry came long before I had the chance to admire the works of William Wordsworth, William Blake, Geoffrey Chaucer, James Wright, Harryette Mullen, Robert Frost, Elizabeth Bishop, Seamus Heaney, John Keats, Donald Justice, Millard Dunn, or Dylan Thomas.

Putting words together in one way, shape, or form is a joy that grabbed me at a young age.  Recently I had a shiver up the spine whilst recording some songs.  There we were.  Me, a guitar, and a sheet of lyrics and chords were hanging out.  Embedded in one particular song were lyrics that I borrowed from poems I had written in 1985 and 1986.  A fifty-five year old was borrowing from his seventeen year old self.  That was a good day, however you wish to quantify.

Those poems I wrote more than three decades are in a bound book that, in earnest, I have not added anything to in a few decades.  If I was compelled to add something to it, I did not get the memo.  Perhaps this was by providential design.  Maybe.

When this book filled with poems from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, written long before I picked up a guitar with knowledge of how to mold words and music together, opens up, there is steadfastness about it.  The words never left.  They still have meaning.  Otherwise I would never have transposed some of these words with music.

Music.  Oh yes, that evil device!  

It was 1985.  That was then and this is now.  Some things never change.

When I think about the political bluster that is working its way around America in the form of book banning…AGAIN…I just shake my head.  This copy and paste political whimsy we suffer through today just looks for reasons to be mad.  Seems happiness in the form of complaining has become an art for some.

I can hear Ronald Reagan now looking at this unpleasant landscape, “Well, here we go again.”  

In 1985 it was that dreaded music that was polluting our nation.  Amazing as it was, there were Senate Hearings in Washington on the evils of popular music lyrics on the same day Bob Geldof was collecting 15.7 million pledge dollars that represented half of the money pledged during the LIVE AID CONCERTS in London and Philadelphia rockers put together to combat world hunger.  Their parents couldn’t stop Elvis from shaking his pelvis and now it was their turn.  Tipper Gore (Al), Susan Baker (James), Pam Howar (Raymond), and Sally Nevis (John) formed the Parents Music Resource Center and shook their finger at nasty lyrics.  One of these ladies found something her daughter was listening to objectionable and all music lyric hell at the Cotillion Society broke loose.

Not unlike what we are dealing with today in the form of book banning, I point to this time in my life when this was going on and all I could think, as a seventeen year old, was my parents taught me to stay away from music like that and they didn’t give a flip about Tipper Gore’s committee.  Oh yes, it was a simpler time.  My family’s values were in practice and we didn’t know what talking points were.

I recently looked at a list of fifteen songs that were targeted by the PMRC.  None of the artists listed have sat on my shelves at any point in time over the years.

I was there.  I have been there.

I will tell folks the same today.  If you can’t parent your kid, don’t blame the song.  If you can’t parent your kid, don’t blame the book.  And surely don’t blame someone else in the name of political bluster and the pursuit of intellectual welfare in the form of bigger government.

On September 19, 1985, John Denver, the musical equivalent of Mr. Rogers, said this:

“I suggest that graphic lyrics and explicit videos are not so far removed from what is seen on television every day and night whether it be in the soap operas or on the news.  That we should point our finger at the recording industry while watching the general public at a nationally televised game chant in unison ‘the Blue Jays suck’ is ludicrous.”

It was a simpler time.  Thank you, John Denver.  Glad I was there with you.

The aforementioned PMRC folded its tent eventually.  Given them credit, though.  This party was made up of both Republicans and Democrats.  It was a simpler time.

Examining the last point of John Denver’s statement makes me think of an ever popular slogan these days.  You’ve heard it.  Some of you have said it.  Some of you wear T-Shirts with it.  Some of you have bumper stickers on your vehicle sporting it.  You know the one.  It is a popular chant among some these days.

“Let’s Go Brandon!”

Not exactly a chant from the Cotillion Circuit.

Be it music or books to complain about, we know that some folks want to have their cake and eat it too.

We also know that not all nuts are grown in California.

We got a long way to go.  God help us.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

I used the following line and reference from the 1987 movie Broadcast News in a post I wrote more than five years ago.  It was true then and it is even more true now.  In fact, too true.

The line was:  “What do you do when your real life exceeds your dreams?”  The character who was asked the question said, “Keep it to yourself.”

Yesterday I spent more than an hour on the elliptical and tallied nearly 7 miles.  That was in the morning.  In the afternoon, I walked more than five miles.

This morning I got on the elliptical for 69 minutes and tallied 7.43 miles.  This afternoon I did a strength training workout given to me by a former Medora student.  Michael Powell was kind enough to come to my house and lead me through it five years ago.  Actually, there are workouts A and B.  I did “A” today.  It includes lifts, pushups, and some dreadful thing called “dead bug”.  I got through it today.

To keep my rhythm and pace I watch and listen to music.  Yesterday I came upon the London Live Aid Concert on July 13, 1985.  I was probably in a hay field throwing square bales that day.  This concert was a big deal.  It was the brainchild of Boomtown Rat turned activist Bob Geldof.  The concert was epic and it was all about feeding the world, as the refrain of the song Do They Know It’s Christmas? says.  In addition to the London location, the same day JFK Stadium in Philadelphia was holding an American Live Aid Concert to augment the efforts across the pond.

Today I watched the show from Philly.  In the photo above, you can see George Thorogood.  He played Madison Blues and it was off the rails good.

JFK Stadium is long gone.  That day was a long time ago.  The music lives on in my heart for sure.  I was 17 when these concerts happened.

So why Running Scared?

WIthout getting into gory details, I feel better than I have in a long time.  I had some robbers removed from my stomach last month.  Even more robbers are coming out June 14th.  Tumors, polyps, both of those words are on a piece of paper I can show you.  I call them robbers.  They were robbing my vitality.  I was severely anemic.  For how long?  Who knows?  I don’t care.

With the help of a few medicated therapies and new asthma medication…and removing those darned robbers, I can tell you that I can breathe easier than I ever have in my entire life.  I got here with breathing troubles and they have haunted me.

When I go more than an hour on the elliptical at a nice pace, I can keep going.  My lungs, for the first time in my life, are not betraying me.  I can breathe deeply and freely with ease.  It took a trip to Denver to find this kind of breathing ability before.

Yes.  I am running scared.  I am scared to death I will go back to the way it was.

For many years I have eaten well and exercised more than the average bear.  I didn’t know my will was as strong as it was.  I kept moving and kept hurting for a long long time.  I only tell myself had I not done that who knows where I would be now?  I don’t care.  I can breathe now.  I have lost pounds that did not have a chance to leave me before.  I’m not working harder now.  My body and I are finally in concert.  The sound is great.  And I know better.  That is why I am running scared.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

Graduation 2023

The North Harrison High School Class of 2023 celebrated commencement yesterday. It was a great time.  My dear wife, Carrie, and I sat near the top row of the bleachers and were able to take it all in. It was a sight to behold!

I had the honor to sing a song for this bunch on Friday during graduation practice.  I never get tired of breaking out a tune I wrote with graduates in mind.

Mr. Kellems, our principal, went over the finer points of graduation during practice.  The whole ceremony turned out very well a coupled days later.

As I said, it was an honor to sing for this bunch.  I had many of them in class this year and they made it a memorable (for good reasons) school year.  Thank you!

Some of the caps took flight after the turning of the tassels.

Recording 

On Saturday, the day before graduation, I found some old friends.  My musical partner and engineer, Jeff Carpenter, and his studio.  They are both dear friends.  Both full of memories of pure sweetness.

Jeff takes care of me.  I show up with a stack of tunes and a guitar and his magic makes it sound like I belong there.

There is a true comfort I find in this space.

I had my game face on before we began.  The last time I was here was before the dreaded Covid crisis.  I had not seen Jefferson since 2019.  You wouldn’t know it.  We just took up where we left off.  Fortunately it is always like that for us.  No pulling up the ground when we get together.

When we are in this space, the hours melt like a cube of ice on the roof of a Mustang in July.

There were some nerves and apprehensions on my part.  I think that should happen.  When that goes away there’s nothing left to appreciate.  When you settle down and really start going for it, good things happen.

In Memoriam

I’d be remiss if I did not speak a word about Mrs. Janet Petty.  She passed away today at her home in Alabama.  She is the mother of my dear friend Brother Tim Petty.  Brother Tim, our hearts and prayers go out to you and your family.  I know her suffering is over.  Regardless of the circumstances, when we lose a loved one there will always be an empty feeling for a while.  I know Mr. Petty will have a time of it.  God bless him.  Mrs. Petty liked to laugh.  I was fortunate to be able to laugh with her a few times.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

So I don’t just listen to The Moody Blues, though I think I could.

Near a week ago we lost a legend in this crazy world.  His name was Gordon Lightfoot.  He was a Canadian Icon.  If you have spent time in a dentists’ office, you have surely heard his classic songs If You Could Read My Mind and Carefree Highway.  If that is all you remember, consider yourself fortunate.  If you can tell of more, consider yourself blessed.

Justin Hayward in Variety Magazine (August 23, 2019)

For years I have talked about how I discovered The Moody Blues by chance as I was looking at a heap of cassette tapes on an endcap display at a department store I would one day work for nearly a decade.  Three years later,  when I was a senior in high school, The Moody Blues were all over the radio and MTV with a new album titled The Other Side of Life.  Your Wildest Dreams, the first single released from the album, was a Top Ten Hit.  I knew something after all.

The summer after high school graduation I was in Shreveport, Louisiana living with my grandparents before I was to be off to college.  On July 1, 1986, Gordon Lightfoot’s album East of Midnight came out.  I was smitten.  There is one song on the album that saw Gordon removed from his normal comfort zone of producer.  He turned the board over to David Foster.  Foster is the guy who diverted the sound of the band Chicago in the early 1980s.  He was also the musician behind many movie soundtracks.  One of those was St. Elmo’s Fire.

The Foster produced tune on Gord’s new album was co-written by the producer and the artist.  I really enjoyed the song; it was called Anything for Love.  I was drawn to it.  The sound.  That is all I can tell you.  As a musician by hobby and heart, that is all I can tell you.  There is a sound and sensibility about music.  I can enjoy a work.  Better yet, I can “get” a work.  I got the entire album.  In fairness, Anything for Love is really removed from the rest of this album.  It has a David Foster feel, as where the rest of the album is all Lightfoot.

Anything for Love was released as a single and charted well on the Adult Contemporary Chart.  The song’s highest position was #13 on the AC poll.  Fortunately for me, KVKI 96.5 in Shreveport had the good sense to have the tune in rotation along with Your Wildest Dreams.  I am left to believe it was not a favorite of the artist, as it was not a song Gordon played in concert.

Like most of us, at the time, I knew Carefree Highway, Sundown, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,  Beautiful, and the much covered Early Morning Rain.

I kept digging.  What I found was one gem after another.  In 1993 while seeing Gordon Lightfoot singing in person the first time,  I heard him and his long-time band play the tune Song For A Winter’s Night;  the sound of those sleigh bells caressing the chorus made me look up to see if the snow really was softly falling.  Listen to this song, if nothing else.  But be careful.  You’ll be looking for time to listen to more.  Thank me later.

The last time Gordon was in Louisville in 2018, he was playing at The Brown Theatre on Broadway.  Just down from Broadway and around the corner on 4th Street, my dear wife, Carrie, and I were at The Palace Theatre listening to Boz Scaggs.  I saw Lightfoot’s bus and the truck for his gear parked down the street and I got a bit wistful.  It all worked out.

Justin Hayward is a pretty good endorsement, if you don’t trust me.  His 1965 solo single London is Behind Me on PYE Records, before The Moody Blues, has a folky troubadour essence about it.  There is a reason he too gravitates toward the music of Gordon Lightfoot.  Me, I can just appreciate it.  His chord structure and multiple tunings are beyond my guitar acumen.

Gordon Lightfoot’s songs demand your attention without you even knowing it.  Is there a better musical compliment than that?

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

I read an interesting quote from Will Levis recently.  Will is the former University of Kentucky quarterback who many think will be a high first round draft pick in tonight’s NFL Draft.

Levis made a statement, I paraphrase, that indicates his confidence by saying he has as strong an arm as anyone in the NFL.  Big words.  But this is nothing we haven’t seen or read before.  In the 1983 Sports Illustrated College Football Preview, those were always nice back then, one Dan Marino said he could throw better than anyone in college and he could throw with anyone in the pros.  That paraphrase is much more accurate than the one about Levis.  What can I say?  The Marino story came 40 years ago.  NFL football meant just a little more to me then than it does now.  Remember, Ken Anderson was still playing for the Cincinnati Bengals in 1983.

In 1964 this was the NFL Draft.  Doesn’t she look darling?

Where they are having the NFL Draft tonight in Kansas CIty, there will probably be more people in the bathroom between the 11th and 12th pick compared to what we see in this photo.

Will Levis?  Will Levis is a big fan of Will Levis.  I have always been a fan of you too, Will.  I just hope your interest in your arm goes beyond a three foot radius around.  I hope you will be a good teammate, Will.  My hope is that you will be chosen by the Indianapolis Colts.  I read that Peyton Manning gave you props.  Were those smoke signals?  Or did he attach a note to a horseshoe and throw it through Jim Irsay’s office window.  That would not be cool.  Don’t want to risk damaging a guitar.

No.  I don’t think the Colts will choose Will Levis.

No, this is not Will Levis.  This is Arch Manning.  I read today that Arch Manning will forego any monetary gain college players are raking in these days with Name Image and Likeness deals until he is named the starting quarterback.  That whole NIL mess is another post entirely, providing there are enough ROLAIDS at the ready.

I don’t think Arch is going to miss a meal.  This edict does have a 180 degrees about it though, if you want to look at it closely.  Seems folks bet on everything these days.  Do you think Vegas has and OVER/UNDER on how many teams Arch will play for in college before he declares for the draft?

Oh yes, the Manning Brothers and the NFL Draft Drama.  

When Peyton came out of Tennessee and landed in Indy there were those who thought Ryan Leaf was the one who got away.

It worked out.

When Eli was drafted out of Ole MIss he let it be known he was not going to play for the San Diego Chargers.  Spoiled brat power play?  Only if you want to think so.  I think otherwise.  All of a sudden you can’t make a business decision in the big business world of pro football?  I think otherwise.

It worked out.

It’s popcorn time!

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

The last entry I made on this space was February 1st.  More than two months have passed since I spoke the rights.  That is too many sunsets on one website.

The last time here I was lamenting the loss of a youngster I knew a long time ago.  I didn’t expect that the distance that goes along with losing someone from your past would also find me distancing myself from my keyboard here.  Too much unspoken feeling will do that I suppose.  I am sure of it.

Since then much has gone on.  Most of it wonderful stuff.

My Brad McCammon Tribute.  I was offering my glasses to the refs at a college basketball game. I saw Brad pull this when he was coaching a sectional basketball game at Orleans many years ago.  This was the first college basketball game I have ever witnessed in person in my life.  The guy who has been to college football stadiums from sea to shining sea and seen more than half of the FBS teams play in person was finally watching a college basketball game.  Making a promise will do that to a fella.

It was late January 2019.  In the Brownstown Central High School Gym BC’ers affectionately call “The Pit” I watched the North Harrison Lady Cats beat the Lady Braves (or Squaws to some politically correct-Americans).  On this night I promised then senior Lilly Hatton I would watch one of her Wofford games when she was playing in college.

Fast forward to her senior year and I am running out of time.  Life goes on.  But on February 18, 2023 in Chattanooga, my dear wife, Carrie, and I were there to watch the visiting Wofford Terriers defeat the UT-Chattanooga Mocs.  Watching Lilly was a thrill.

It was a great night.  In Lilly’s senior year at Wofford, the team won more games in a season than it ever had before.  22-10 was their final record.  They won the Southern Conference Championship in the regular season and were bested in the conference tourney final by the same UT-Chattanooga team.

One week later, Carrie and I were back in Tennessee.  This time in Nashville at the Vanderbilt Medical Center to see granddaughter Penelope Ann being brought into the world.  Our son Cody and his wife, Paola, did good.

I kid you not.  Penelope was only a few hours old when I took this picture.  She got here ready.

And you better know Grandma is having a good time.

This was taken this week.

I must say I am having a good time too.  

Penelope and I were watching Indy Car Racing from Texas today.  She lost interest when her driver, Sato, hit the wall.  So did she.  I had to relive the finish for her and how Josef Newgarden won under caution with less than two laps to go.

It hasn’t been all good recently.

I found this in an Albany (NY) newspaper last June.  Besides looking at it a few times and shaking my head, I have never shared it before.  That changed when another school shooting, this time Nashville, was realized.  This says a great deal to me.  Unfortunately, I am not as influential as I wish I was.  Strange when I get into a gun debate no one wants to talk sense.  They don’t seem to listen.  They don’t care.  They don’t care that I think owning a gun is fine.  And I have seen on social media comparisons to rocks and guns.  I have yet to see a rock that could destroy a 7-Eleven in 8 seconds.  Talk about stupidity.  But that seems to be the cup of the day.

God help us.

On another good note…

This guy has already mowed his yard this year.

One more good note…

I was so impressed with an interview that Coach K gave to Chris Wallace recently, I sent a note to Coach K letting him know it.  As usual, I mentioned some things I appreciated and expounded a little.  Thankfully, he kept reading.  The man sent a letter addressed to the Students of North Harrison High School.  The letter will be framed and placed in the school library.  At least I know Coach K is listening.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Leave it the Louisville Courier-Journal to leave me with a silent scream on my face.  

I have a newspaper archive account.  I used it tonight to look up a line score from a high school football game played 30 years ago come this October 2nd in the October 3rd edition of The Courier-Journal.

There was a time (a long time ago) when I was in exile from North Harrison.  1993 was one of those years.  Fortunately, I did find a football team that wanted my coaching assistance.  Unfortunately, it was the Corydon Central Panthers.  I didn’t care then.  I just knew I needed to be helping out punters and kickers, not to mention I was the sole JV coach for two years and we had a blast.

The 1992 game Corydon Central played against North Harrison was a classic memory for me.  The score was tied 0-0 at the half.  North had the ball early in the third quarter.  Billy Powell intercepted a pass for the Panthers and took it to the house.  6-0 Corydon Central.  Our sideline erupted like no other high school sideline ever did.  I was on the ground turning circles like Curly of The Three Stooges.  Players were rolling around on the field.  It was mayhem!  Not that goofy guy on those stupid insurance commercials.  This was real.

The ref saw enough.  He threw a flag on the bench for holding up the game under the aegis of “unsportsmanlike conduct” and there was no way I could be happier!  That meant our kicker was going to put up an extra-point from 35 yards away and not 20 as is the custom.  My kicker nailed it with PLENTY of room to spare.  I think I was on the ground again.  Corydon Central won 21-0 and that was the first shutout in The Big Cat Classic since the 1985 North Harrison team won 23-0.  I kicked a field goal in that game for North Harrison.

Jason Becker was the kicker for Corydon Central that night.  The next season in a game at West Washington, Jason kicked a 47 yard field goal that was clearing the uprights when it went through.  It was amazing.  I can still see that kick more clearly in my mind than any ball I ever put through under the Friday Night Lights.  I only wish he had the chance to connect on more.

The Courier-Journal had the kick 34 yards in its box score.  I went to the Bedford Times-Mail and found the correct distance.  It was as I remembered it.  I saw it happen.  I still see it today.

When you coach, players come in and out of your life.  Some years ago I ran into Jason Becker.  We laughed and relived some of the old stories.  Vowed we would get together.  You know how that goes.

I was taken aback a couple weeks ago when I was running down the obituary column of The Courier-Journal.  Jason Becker passed away suddenly on January 16, 2023.  He was 46.

On Saturday, January 21, Carrie and I went to the funeral home in Corydon to pay our respects.  On the way to the funeral home I was talking to Carrie about how Jason and I practiced.  I was still a young man and I led by example.  “Match that!”  That is what I would exclaim when we were swinging our legs together.  I told Carrie about the long snapper, Virgil Smith.  He was harder on himself than I ever was.  Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Virgil.

Back then those guys called me Coach Moody.  My affinity for The Moody Blues was not lost on them.  I didn’t ask for it.  But Buck Hauswald, during warm-ups, often yelled out “Moody Bluedy!”  Buck is gone too.  Lord he was a great guy.

When I signed the guest book at the funeral home, I saw the signature of Virgil Smith.  I couldn’t help but smile.

It wasn’t always easy, but we sure had fun.  I have memories with these boys I would never trade for anything if we could go back.

Have I told you I am a blessed guy?  I am.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

When I feel the world closing in on me, I write something.

My world is not closing in on me.  But I know some folks who have been going through exactly that.  Best I can tell you is they have handled it with a grace that is only admired by most of us.

Oh my.  There is so much conflict within me when I look at this photo.  Letters put together last school year when we learned that our North Harrison colleague, Andy Pavey, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

On a lovely Spring day last year, we gathered for a WALK that was dedicated to Andy.  I was proud to be there.

Those who know me know full well I am usually not at a loss for words.  Some probably wish I was at a loss for words more often.

This is so hard.

Andy Pavey was that positive fabric that could walk into any room and make it a better place.  Most of us dream of doing that.  Andy was that.

I ran into Andy at an Indiana University Football game in Bloomington this past fall.  That was the best moment for me all football season.  I didn’t expect to see him. When I did see him there, everything else stopped.  I wish I had taken a photo of the two of us there talking IU football.

Andy Pavey’s fight with pancreatic cancer ended on January 21, 2023.  To say he will be missed is only a thimble of this loss.

That conflict I have looking at this?  I am just glad that the place that has never gotten around to honoring anyone by naming a facility or a road or a calculator drawer after any of the venerable legends that have worked for the greater good of North Harrison finally got it right.  They got it right for ANDY.  Lets hope these letters hang around for a while.  They mean so much to so many.

Andy, your kids were in school every day this week.  I was proud of them for walking into my classroom.  I left them alone.  It was best.  You’d be proud.  Thank you.

Danny Johnson