I once read, while I was a junior in high school, that a highbrow is someone who looks at a piece of sausage and thinks of Picasso.  Wow.

Well, I looked at a piece of steak I was cooking Wednesday and thought about a teacher and a class and a student that said a few things I will never forget.  If I could only remember the student’s name.  I could find him these days.  I know I could.  I don’t, however, remember his name.  It was a college speech class…pardon me…Public Speaking class.  The classmate I reference was always complimentary of my speeches.  I liked him.  He was a plain-speaking, upbeat, positive youngster.  How I wish I remembered his name.  Twenty-seven years and being more worried about my grade than his will cloud things.  I did get an “A” in the class.  In fact, we were competitive.  There were about twenty-two of us in the class.  My point total at the end of the semester was 2nd to a girl from Clarksville.  Her last name was Overton.  I don’t remember what she looked like.  I just remember her last name over the top of mine.  It was a close race I can tell you.

The student whose name I can’t remember worked at a Ponderosa Steakhouse.  His demonstration speech was how to cook a steak.  My strip steak I cooked Wednesday faintly have the criss-cross sear marks my classmate told us about and took a great deal of pride in.  I turned this piece of beef over and thought about my old classmate. I thought of Rick Jones, our teacher.  We became friends.  We lost track of each other years ago.  He liked The Moody Blues too.  I have written about him on these pages before.  He was a great teacher.

That leads us to today’s Top Ten List.  My Top Ten Teachers.  My parents notwithstanding, I must give them credit, I give you today’s list that comes to mind.  Tomorrow the list may be different.

#10  Mrs. Bridges…my kindergarten teacher.  She sent a note home telling my folks that I was “all boy”.  I don’t know what that means but I appreciated it.  She was a great teacher.

# 9  Mr. Jim St. Clair…He taught me a media class at IUS.  We just flat had an understanding.  He loved what I had to write and I loved the way he ran the class.  He was so complimentary and demanding in his own understated way.

#8  Mr. Larry Martin…He taught me Social Studies in the 7th grade.  Had him the last period of the day and it was dream of a way to end the day.  Even those damned “get out a clean sheet of paper and number it down the left margin 1 through 10.”  The pop quiz.  Did you pay attention?  We found out quickly on those days.

# 7  Mrs.  Patty Miller…She taught a course called Sports Literature when I was a sophomore.  Maybe they were trying to get rid of her.  It worked.  She didn’t know if a ball was filled with air or stuffed with feathers.  It was second semester and the Baltimore Colts moved their stuff via Mayflower moving trucks to Indianapolis.  She too was complimentary of my writing.  She helped me a great deal the day she grabbed my yearbook and wrote the words “You are an excellent writer.”  That helped.

# 6  Dr. Dick Brengle…One of my professors at IUS.  Talking Chaucer and Beowulf with this man was an extraordinary experience.  He played baseball for Columbia University and one the teams they played was Yale who had a player named George H.W. Bush.

# 5  Dr. Nancy Cunningham…Dr. Cunningham taught a course at the University of Louisville whilst I was working in my M.Ed.  She was so smart.  She was such a great communicator.  Class wasn’t class…it was an experience.  Time flew.

# 4 Dr. Bill Sweigart…He was my expository writing teacher and this class did me a world of good.  He knew what I was trying to do with my writing and pointed me in directions that made things better.  He guided.  He did not interject.  He too gave me confidence in the craft and helped me edit things in ways I did not think I had the patience or time for.  Translation:  This was valuable time.

# 3  Mrs. Betty Englehardt….This lady taught my senior English class.  She was tough.  She was kind.  She was about 4 foot 9 inches tall.  She was much larger than that to me.  If there was someone in the building I did not want to disappoint beyond my Dad, it was Mrs. E.  My Dylan Thomas speech was a highlight that senior year.  I worked as a helper for her with other students that struggled a bit.  We were a heck of a team.

#2  Mr. James Stewart…So he was my boss.  We worked together all of three full years.  The first two went so well that after I left and took a job somewhere else he called me two years later when his guidance counselor retired and offered me the job.  I told him I didn’t have a counseling license.  He told me I would get one.  I did.  We worked together one more year.  Then he retired.  He was a friend.  He was my chief.  That is what I called him.  The best school man I ever knew.  I miss him.

#1  Dr. Millard Dunn…I called Dr. Dunn yesterday to ask for help with something I am working on.  It is a piece of writing.  I emailed him some things later and included this passage:

In the fall of 1991, I walked into a class room and met a man that changed my life.  G207.  Grammar and Usage.  Dr. Millard Dunn was the man.  What he did was the difference that has allowed me to utilize the English language in multiple forms and be somewhat successful at it.  He met me where I was.  He had to stoop for sure to reach me.  Stoop he did.  And with great strength and cause and care and desire and knowledge and maybe some pity…he stayed there with me until I graduated in 1995.  Whether he knows it or not, I have taken him every step of the way since.

Today a gentleman was in the building to speak of a scholarship he is the benefactor of for an IUS student.  I told him about me talking to Millard yesterday.  I told him that little did we know when we both walked into that class room 27 years ago that we would still be in touch and he would still be my teacher and me his student.  One of those rare occasions when things align the way they should…for the best.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

At this writing I am listening to Elton John’s 1984 album “Breaking Hearts”.  It was not the prolific songwriter/performer’s most memorable effort.  One thing you can give Elton credit for, good or bad, he has never allowed much moss to grow.  One record after another.  Many not very good.  Some, though, unforgettable.  For me, “Breaking Hearts” is an unforgettable release.  When I was a junior and senior in high school, I wore a cassette tape of this release out.  The melancholy tune, the album’s namesake, “Breaking Hearts” is a great song.  The haunting chorus with its soaring harmony takes me places.  It did then.  It does now.  Whether I am sixteen or fifty, I hear and feel the same stuff when I listen to this album.  That is how you know it became and continues to be a part of your life.  This one, for whatever reason, resonates with me more than most all these years on.

Am I a Pirate?  I feel like one.  I am listening to this album on the world wide web on a common website.  That is all I will say.  I couldn’t tell you how many times I have been to used record/cd shops all over the country East of the Mississippi River looking for this album on CD.  There is plenty of Elton to procure.  But I can’t find this one.  My tape is long gone.  I feel like a heel listening to this without paying for it.  I suppose I will order it properly this weekend if I can find it.

Does Elton need my six dollars?  I doubt it.  I donated to see him in concert many years ago.  It was worth every penny.

During baseball games at North Harrison High School, I can be found in the press box announcing the game and playing the same old tunes in between innings.  The picture above was taken this past week in an NH home game against Heritage Hills.  What I love about this pic is catcher Brett Rudolph, sans his catcher’s mask, looking as the ball sails out of play.  Brett was the subject of some good pictures I posted here during football season.  His Dad was a senior when I was freshman and now and again I was lined up against him during practice scrimmages.  His Dad, Jeff, was like a piece of steel.  To me, Jeff Rudolph will always be the greatest North Harrison Cougar of them all.

Listening to Elton’s 1984 album “Breaking Hearts” for the first time in decades, I can tell you it is even better tonight than I remembered.

On facebook last Saturday I posted the following…

There are still some non-believers out there thinking I am in Cleveland today for The Moody Blues induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I am at home where my old “breakfast of champions”, a Canada Dry Ginger Ale, has been replaced with coffee in a Moody Blues Hall of Fame cup thanks to Dan Goins. On this gloomy, “Moody” Saturday morning in Southern Indiana, I am back where it started for me in 1983…and that old cassette still works 35 years later. First time I have played this tape in at least 2 decades. Sounds wonderful!

That original Days of Future Passed cassette.

So The Moody Blues finally made it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I am ready to visit the place now.  I want to go one time.  This year will be the time to do that.  I have never been a great fan of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I got a copy of this year’s induction ceremony program.  There were multiple errors in the section that spoke of The Moodies.  No Moodies fan is shocked by that.  We all had the Moodies in a more important Rock and Roll Hall of Fame many years ago….our hearts.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

I am here to type these words.

I was asked today why I had not posted anything lately.  Gone is my excuse of doing those 50 post in 50 days…that ended near a month ago.  It was a priority and a sense of duty to take care of it.  You know, to deliver the goods…or at least deliver well, something.

Test season is here in the State of Indiana.  I am not sure why we Hoosiers think we are so important that we need to make things so difficult for students.  Things don’t have to be this complicated.  Look at some other states and how they go about things and you’ll find that, in some cases, Indiana spends too much time with the T-square and the compass and the protractor trying to chart the course.  Test them all, they say!  They do.

I was not a good test taker in high school.  I can empathize with kids about this.  The older I got, the better I got at it.  When I took something called the GRE to get into my grad school program, I was certain they gave me someone else’s results.  I took them home and smiled.  That only lasts so long.  There is still work to do.

The latest graduation proposal beginning with the Class of 2023 in Indiana high schools is not a very good one.  Too many moving pieces and parts.  The verbiage is weak in places and seeps of elections to come may very well change a thing or two here.  I hope so.  We can do better.

“What is a test score without civility?”  I said that at meeting recently with other education folks from the county in the room.  We were there putting our heads together for the good of the cause.  It was meaningful dialogue.  That is not always the case when there is a power-point, snacks on the table, and multiple building levels in the same room trying to make sense and make nice.  It worked.  I was proud of that.

Test scores.  I’d rather have someone in the room I can depend on than a test score that looks nice.  Now….don’t get me wrong.  Test scores are important.  They can measure what needs a yardstick now and again.  But the notion of a one size fits all measuring instrument is, well, archaic.

The need to make that point is why I type these words today.  I think I could be a little more effective for my school talking to kids more and chasing down test logistics less.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

This evening we will know who the Masters Champion for 2018 will be.  We have a good one to look forward to I think.

I told my dear wife, Carrie, I doubt some of the organizers for this grand tournament could sleep much last night.  A close leader board and an improved weather day sets greatness in motion.  Think about it.  The place would still be what it is regardless.  If there was a golfer sitting ten shots ahead of the rest, the tension would be off.  The excitement would not really be there.  But, look at the leader board, there is plenty to be excited about as the last two fire off at #1 before 3 PM.

I hope Patrick Reed can hang on.  I really do.  Rory McIlroy is looking immortality in the eye if he were to become just the 6th golfer to complete the “grand slam” which means you won all four of golf’s major championships.  The last to do that was Tiger Woods in 2000.  The first was Gene Sarazen in 1935.  If Rory wins my feeling won’t be hurt.

Look out for Rickie Fowler.  He’s like a gnat a good barbecue, he just won’t go away.

I enjoy watching golf on television.  My two favorite events of the year are two majors.  I like The Masters and the British Open…or am I supposed to call it The Open?  You can depend on the tradition and scenery of the course in Augusta when they play The Masters.  The British Open is such a contrast in course and in when is it going to rain, how cold, and how windy, and how am I going to find my ball in high weeds?

This was my tee shot at the 170ish yard blind over the hill #7 at the now grown over New Salisbury Golf Course.  This fights another par 3 I played at Old Capitol as the closest shots to a hole-in one that I have managed.  One day perhaps I will hit one.

My old friend Gus Stephenson and I used to play quite often.  We walked the behemoth of a course that is Old Capitol in Corydon with regularity.  Mick Rutherford once said, “It ain’t a game if don’t walk.”  Well, that was a few years ago.  In fact, he and I were about to walk the Corydon course when the lady in the clubhouse questioned our sensibilities on a 100 degree day.  These days, we are riding.  The walking friendly New Salisbury is closed.  That is sad.

Left to right:  Mick Rutherford, Kelly Samons, and Gus Stephenson.  We were playing the Corner King Classic at New Salisbury.  This was the tee shot at #8.

Carrie and me in the Harbor Town lighthouse with the 18th fairway behind us.  The lighthouse helps to frame the TV shot when the golfers are making their way to the final green.  Hilton Head New Year’s Eve in 2014.

These days the most golf I play is with Carrie’s cousins and extended family and friends when we get together at Lucas Oil Golf Course in English, Indiana.  Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day weekends mean the golf outing.  We always have fun with it.  Above is the tee box at #1.

One of the best golfers of all time.  So good she can take her purse with her on the course!  We can’t all get away with that!  Putting near the shore of Lake Erie last summer in Ohio.  Look that stance!  Take lessons.

The Shot.

I wish I had a photo to go along with it.  Brother Tim Petty and I played a few times at New Salisbury.  One day he hit a tee shot over the fence at #4.  That means nothing if you have not been there.  I was and it was a beauty.  The hole was not a dog leg right. It was a right angle!   Okay, here it is below:

# 4 was 335 yards.  What you don’t see here is the fence.  It was along the right angle at the turn of the fairway.  I always felt good if I could get it around the end of the line extending from the tee box to the fairway around the corner.  I didn’t always do that.

On this day, Brother Tim Petty took it upon himself to aim over the trees and over the fence and go for the green.  The next photo gives a representation, of where the fence was and the flight of Tim’s ball.  It was the best shot I ever witnessed at New Salisbury.

It was amazing.  Thank you for that memory, Brother Tim.

My best shot?

5 pars and 4 bogeys.  I was playing by myself.  But I did it.  Under 40 for nine holes at New Salisbury National.  Best thing was making par on the final hole to seal it. Yes, I circled my pars.

The Masters is going to fun in a couple hours!

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Carrie and I were not at church this Easter morning.  We were having our own worship service in the car hurtling from Charleston, WV to Depauw.  We made it safely.  On the trip Carrie and I talked about Easter traditions from our childhoods.  Seeing folks miserable in ties and fancy shoes.  Having Easter egg hunts.  Listening to the choir sing “Up From The Grace He Arose!”  That is still one of my favorites.  Also a lady at the church getting on a couple of guys for eating all the deviled eggs.  No, I was not one of the guilty ones.  Neither were they, they liked their eggs.

I miss it.  I think I miss childhood Easter services and the things that surrounded those times more than any other particular holiday.  Easter is special.  Death and Resurrection.  That is Amazing Grace like no other.  Thanks be to God.

Our world needs some grace right now.  That seems to be at premium these days.  Blame is quick.  Grace is hard to find.  We’re on the wrong side of history.  I don’t know how else to explain it.  If it doesn’t get better for us, the ones reading about it in a hundred years will be glad they learned from our mistakes.  I have no doubt about that.

On the way home from the coast, my dear wife, Carrie, and I stopped in Mt. Airy, North Carolina.  The Andy Griffith Playhouse now holds the Andy Griffith Museum.  We took some photos and enjoyed the visit.

This is a photo of a place about ten miles south of Mt. Airy.  It is Pilot Mountain.  Of course we know that Mt. Airy is where Andy Griffith was from and was the place that was his the inspiration for Mayberry.  And Pilot Mountain, is, of course, Mt. Pilot on the show.

These are the actual signs that were affixed to the doors on the show.  Sheriff and Justice Of The Peace.  Pretty darn cool.

This is one of Andy’s uniform shirts he wore on The Andy Griffith Show.  What is the flaw?  The top button should not be buttoned, of course.

The phone, the chairs, and other stuff from the original set.

One of two TV Land Statues dedicated to The Andy Griffith Show.  The other is in Raleigh.

And…

While sitting next to the Atlantic, I read this book about the 1967 Indiana University Hoosiers Football Team.  It is the only Hoosier team to make it to the Rose Bowl so far.  The year before they were 1-8-1.  In 1967 a miracle season happened in Bloomington.  This book chronicles it very very well.  It was a meaningful read.

Thanks to the author Michael S. Maurer for caring about this place in time enough to share it in earnest.  I will read it again one day I know.  Probably before the season.  This book gives another reason to believe…something I began doing the day IU named Coach Allen to the position of Head Coach.  I said it here.  I have seen the Rose Bowl stadium.  The Hoosiers will be there in the next five years.  The sooner the better.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson