Time for reflection

There's a photo in the 1965 Monticola yearbook of Doug Pennington standing with a big smile on his face next to a thermometer poster, indicating how much money the Senior Class had brought in from its raffle for a trip to Hawaii or $500. I believe we made $1,200 with that project. Most of the money came through Doug's relentless, creative efforts to sell as many tickets as he could.

Every day after school, he was pass through the local watering holes and convince the patrons to buy their raffle tickets. The next day, he'd come back to school with fists full of dollars he'd collected the night before. He worked so hard on that project that the annual staff decided to recognize his efforts through that photo in the yearbook.

With the profits from that project, our class purchased some young trees and we proudly planted them in front of what was then the high school. Most of those spruce trees survived. Every time I drive down Division and see those trees, I think of the lasting legacy we were able to leave to our school---a lot of it, thanks to a young man who delighted in selling raffle tickets.

Doug's family owned one of the local furniture stores---now known as Belwood's. They also owned a farm on North Boyer and rented it to the Delamarters for a number of years. I spent my childhood playing at the Pennington place. Later, I got to know Doug's lovely daughter Holly. She was never one of my students, but she's a beautiful young lady who's always happy to spread her own brand of sunshine. I read in this morning's paper that her father, Doug has died.

About three years ago, we decided to do something about the leak in our water lines, which was causing us to have little or no pressure for watering the lawn, garden, etc. The problem had been there for years, and I'd grown weary of standing for half the day trying to get my garden watered with the tiny trickle that flowed through the hose.

So, we called Neil Tucker who does excavation work and water lines. He looked over the project and then assigned Tom Knaggs to lead the construction efforts. I'd known Tom since he was a young boy and later during his time at Sandpoint High School. He married one of my yearbook editors. I've known and loved the Knaggs family for most of my life. They even sold our family a little Appaloosa mare named Sassy. We always joked that we got that horse from the Knaggs.

Tom worked hard on our water line project, taking care to leave the area looking as neat as is humanly possible after digging up a bunch of dirt. Since that time, my water pressure keeps me happy as I water my flowers, vegetables or grass. I appreciated Tom's work. Sunday morning we received a call here at the house from the Presbyterian minister. She said Tom was dying. By the time Bill came home from church, Tom had passed away at 47. His obituary appeared in this morning's paper.

Early this summer, I was invited by my friend Ann Knapp to attend her retirement luncheon. She had worked as curriculum director for Lake Pend Oreille School District. I arrived at the luncheon at Slate's back room before most of the others. So, when I saw Pat Bennett, who'd served as clerk to the board before retiring a few years ago, we struck up a visit.

I never really knew Pat very well---just that she was that tall, attractive lady who'd come to Sandpoint from her hometown of Genessee. That day we talked about our daughters and were mutually pleased to learn that both of them work for the Marriott Corporation----mine in Seattle, hers in Federal Way, just south of Seattle. Pat wrote down Annie's name and contacted her daughter. A few weeks later, Annie told me that Pat's daughter had come up and introduced herself at a Marriott get-together. This morning, I was shocked to read that Pat has died at age 65.

Three people who've all played a small part in my life have died this week---all too young, it seems. I'm sure their deaths have deeply touched this community. Right now, I'm reading Mitch Albom's The Five People You'll Meet in Heaven. So far in my reading, Eddie has met two people, and it seems to me that these people recognize him for contributing something seemingly insignificant to him but magnificent in someone else's eyes.

These people's passing reminds us once more of the little things we do on any given day of our lives which can make such a longlasting difference to someone else. Whether it's seeing Holly Pennington's radiant smile or some mature spruce trees along Division Street, or spraying my summer flowers with that abundant water pressure, or thinking about the nice lady who took the time to steer her daughter into my own daughter's life--- I'll remember each of them fondly.