My friend from the Great State of Arkansas has this new blog called noteaday and he features a different mentor/teacher/hero each day. There is always something to inspire me. So, working with that theme I thought that I would write about someone from my youth that was an influence on me.

His first name was Herb but I never called him by that as us youngsters were always encouraged to use more formal forms of address. He was a dad of one of my classmates and worked at a car dealership in the neighborhood. He and his wife had four children all together but a tragedy occurred when their only son died at maybe sixteen. I remember it all perfectly, we kids were all at the funeral and burial. It was too sad.

Anyway, people of my parents generation were so amazingly resilient. Some disaster would occur and soon enough they would be picking up their shovels and be heading back to the mine. Life goes on in the neighborhood, that’s for sure. And Herb was an usher at the service that my Dad and I attended at 0930 at St Luke’s Lutheran Church. Certain people attend at certain hours and that’s that.

Actually I have two stories for you and can’t remember which came first. But one Sunday the pastor is giving us the business from the pulpit and right next to him smoke starts coming up the stairway from the basement below. No one moves. The sermon goes on. More smoke and the high ceiling of the church starts to fill up. The sermon goes on. I guess we’re all thinking, well this is a good place to go, true believers we were. The sermon goes on and more smoke. And finally Herb walks up the aisle from the back and goes down the stairs and pretty soon the smoke starts to thin out and then stops. And the service goes on to the normal end for everyone and yea that was that. No alarms, evacuations, trauma counselors, just donuts and coffee.

Story two: one Christmas time all the teens from church were invited to Herb’s for a party and we braved the knee deep snow for this event. Things were going swimmingly, we’re all dancing the Twist or the Bristol Stomp to records down in the basement until the gift opening. You would think that would be pretty innocent. But young Phil throws a monkey wrench into the works. The idea was for everyone to spend no more than fifty cents and come up with one gag gift. Gag actually turns out to be the keyword here. So me and the buddies are at the local plaza (early attempt at a mall) and what does Phil find that is just perfect but a foil wrapped pouch of Redman Chewing Tobacco for 47 cents. Yea, so I get it wrapped and take this little gem to the party.

I don’t remember which person actually opened my offering but really soon afterward all the boys got a hold of it and every single one of us, wanting to prove our manhood or something, partook. It wasn’t like five minutes till all the young studs were out in the foot and a half of snow and puking our guts out. Way to go Phil! Hehe. Neither Herb nor his wife ever said a thing to me. Some people you invite to your parties are really fun if somewhat messy I guess.

Anyway, life in the suburbs with Phil and the gang. But Herb represented that resilience and that steadiness that I hope we all have inside us ourselves now. Well, that’s it and I have gone way over my five hundred word limit. Time to go. Thanks Steve for the inspiration, hope you read this. Love, Felipe of the North.