Builders
August 31, 2012
My counterpart with the Iowa High School Athletic Association, Rick Wulkow, recently spoke at a reception at the conclusion of his term as president of the Board of Directors of the National Federation of State High School Associations.
Rick reminded the assembled colleagues from across the country that, by sponsoring and conducting and regulating extracurricular athletic and fine arts opportunities, they were doing for the youth of America what is not done for youth in other countries.
Mr. Wulkow asserted with conviction and passion that there is no more noble calling than theirs: to provide and to promote and to protect programs through which students learn life skills and discipline. To be builders of young people and, through them, to be people who are strengthening schools, communities, states and our nation.
In a world where people seem often to be tearing things down, he said, “These programs build things up.”
Like me, Rick is a veteran. Now in his 33rd year with the Iowa association, Rick has been a coach, administrator and official (including 17 years as an NCAA Division I basketball official). His words put another charge in my own heart, perfectly timed for the start of public school classes (finally!) next Tuesday.
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.