There have been occasional thoughts the past several weeks about doing something — taking a walk, deciding where to eat supper or perhaps writing a column. I did manage to mail one in a few weeks ago but then I got into a groove of doing nothing. Warmer weather, ocean waves and sand between your toes encourages that.
A couple good books were consumed. A biography of Gerald Ford revealed some interesting comparisons between his years as president and our present state of affairs. Perhaps some comments were in order about leaders making decisions based on what they feel is best for the country, not on what their political advisers recommend in order to get re-elected.
My “do-nothing” state of mind should have included not watching the national news. I was contemplating an essay on renouncing any allegiance to a certain political party.
There could have been a column about some interesting people encountered — not nearly as intriguing as having dinner with a rock star as Doug Brown shared from his recent travels. However, when you show up at a golf course as a single, you expect to be paired with strangers. I’ve always enjoyed playing with and getting to know strange golfers (we’re all at least a bit strange) and have never been disappointed.
For example, Mario, about my age, still has a strong Italian accent. Turned out he had emigrated from his homeland as a teenager about the same time as our youngest son’s father-in-law. Mario’s nephew, Keith, has a daughter that earned a role in a Broadway production when she was 10 years old. He and his wife split time between their home and jobs in Albany, N.Y., and a Manhattan apartment for several years. Interesting conversations.
In another round, one of my group was retired from a sales career which included a stint selling newspaper advertising. We had something in common to talk about. The other was a young man — about the age of our youngest son — vacationing in Florida from Vietnam. He is a banker. He grew up outside of Hanoi but now lives and works in Ho Chi Minh City. We all knew that as Saigon. Times change.
Fifty-some years ago, who among my generation would have ever had such a crazy thought that you might one day play a round of golf with the son of an officer in the North Vietnamese military? “Yuan” — I have no idea if that is spelled correctly — is a very nice, friendly, enthusiastic, polite young man, but deferred specific questions about his father’s role.
“How’s the bank business?” I asked. He expects the next several years to see an explosion of new investments in manufacturing plants in his country by American companies moving their operations out of China. Times do change.
There could have been a column about my growing TS problem — tech-stupidity. It is getting increasingly difficult to travel with a flip phone. But I am TS-2: tech-stupid and tech-stubborn.
But all that was put aside when I logged into the N-B’s website one day last week and read that Steve Wagner had died. Unexpectedly. Life is short. You never know.
I do not recall the exact circumstances of our first encounter — where or when — but I do recall his easy-going, friendly, sometimes quirky manner that defied you not to like him.
Among his many attributes, Steve was a champion for Rotary. He was never a member, but he sent more of his Southern Wells students to the annual Rotary Youth Leadership Awards, a slightly misnamed weekend event that develops leadership skills while having fun. The northern Indiana district of Rotary Clubs’ RYLA Camp has been held at a Boy Scout camp near Delphi. My wife and I have driven students both to and from the event. It’s always more fun on the way home as you listen to the students rave about their weekend.
Steve seems to have understood the camp’s value better than any other school counselor in the county. You could easily say he had a passion for that, but I think Steve had a passion for everything he did — a passion for life itself. I do not have any testimonials at hand, but I am betting there are a lot of his former students who would say that he made a difference in their lives. I think that’s what most of us want to do: make a difference. Steve did.
Our arrival back home included going through a month’s worth of mail. Staring at that pile, you realize you have to do something. No more nothing.
miller@news-banner.com
