Friends are the bacon bits in the salad of life.
Homer Simpson
When writing, it is customary and proper to place a space between words. Each space marks an ending and anticipates a beginning. Spaces translate from the page to spoken language as pieces of time allowing the speaker to formulate the next word and for the listener to anticipate it. The spaces and their nuances of time are often as important in effective communication as the words themselves.
Anyone who knew Steve Wagner recognized, if only indirectly, that in conversation he routinely placed two spaces between words. Sometimes three, four or even a half-dozen spaces as he spoke. At times I felt the spaces between his words were interminable. Upon first meeting Steve I considered his protracted speech an annoyance. With time I came to find it an endearing trait.
What came through every conversation with Steve was sincerity. Even as he spoke, like a climber ascending a steep trail through multiple switchbacks, he selected each word carefully from his ample cranial dictionary. Even if he chose the wrong words, or a disjointed phrase as he spoke, the sincerity could not be denied. He listened without distraction and spoke with haltingly sincere intention.
It was a common occurrence as a school counselor for me to listen to student complaints about teachers. Steve received more than his fair share. If I could paraphrase those collective complaints, it would be as such: “I do not understand what Mr. Wagner is saying. I do not know what he wants.” I would often silently agree. Even with that there was an underlying loyalty for Steve. He did not change. From football players he coached to the best students in school to the disabled kids he encountered, many would willingly follow him to the ends of the earth.
I met Steve as a fellow biology teacher in 1976. He came in wearing khaki pants, penny loafers with no socks and a Burberry sweater tied over his shoulders. He often wore a scarf in winter all day long. Who does that? A handsome 22-year-old, he looked like he was right out of fourth-year prep school. He was quirky. I soon found out he did in fact go to prep school. A graduate of Brebeuf Jesuit Preparatory School, come to Cowtown. We were immediate friends. When we discovered that our new wives were both artists, soon to be forever joined at the hip, we knew our tenure as friends was to be long. Forty-eight years as it stands.
So how do you get hundreds upon hundreds of people of all ages and economic stripes, many from long distances, to come to your funeral visitation and wait in a line over two hours to spend one minute of shared grief with wife and family? Be like Steve. The size of the crowd spoke volumes, and those in line willingly took this long wait as a fair price for that brief minute. His style was as simple as it was unintentional. Treat everyone you meet with dignity. Listen as they speak. Respond with kindness. Maintain the common touch. Leave spaces.
His hair turned gray. He battled with serious health issues, but in the end, he did not change much from our first meeting. I will forever see Steve with his glasses atop his head, tattered sweater with stretched sleeves and a scarf around his neck as he physically leaned into every conversation. I will genuinely miss my loyal friend. For me it means far fewer bacon bits in my salad.
Here’s the thing: My son, Kevin, was emotional upon hearing of Steve’s death. Steve is his godfather. He came home from Colorado for the service, and he brought with him a eulogy that he wrote for Steve as therapy for himself. This is the last paragraph:
“So, I would challenge you all to be like Steve. Listen to what others have to say. Respectfully challenge their stance. Step out of your comfort zone and be bold. Don’t be afraid to learn and grow. Then say something nobody understands and give them a big hug, because that is what Steve would do, and we love Steve.”
ken.ballinger@yahoo.com
———
Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
