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.
Vern Norris
February 20, 2018
For more than two decades, I’ve kept a photograph of Vern Norris on my office desk. I’ve intended this to be a daily reminder that much of what we are able to do now is due at least in part to people who have come before us.
Vern died recently at the age of 89, nearly 32 years after his retirement, having served on the MHSAA staff for 23 years, including as executive director from 1978 to 1986. He had been in declining health during the past year, but not declining spirit. Many people remember Vern as one who would be willing to help almost anyone at any time.
When, in Kansas City, I read his retirement announcement early in 1986, I sent him a congratulatory note. He responded with a personal call during which he asked of my interest in the job. Given my situation at the time – not on staff, not in the state and not in a school or sports administration – this seemed like a wild pitch. But he encouraged me to think about it and, well, the rest is history.
When I leave this job that I have now held and mostly loved for nearly 32 years so far, I intend to follow Vern’s lead. His was a most graceful exit. We spent only five days together in the MHSAA office; and while his advice since then has been rare, his support has always been well done.
I will miss seeing him at this winter’s tournaments and at the Officials Banquet May 5, an event that he began in his first year as MHSAA executive director, an event where we will honor another of Michigan’s officiating leaders with the “Vern L. Norris Award.”