Old-Home-Week Tales

This morning's paper has a photo of four adorable, smiling faces,  proudly showing off their trophies.  The quartet  includes two sets of siblings.  Melissa and Rusty Irish's son and daughter, Levi and Jayce, are in the photo as are Matt and Mindy Stangel's sons Nicholas and Nathan.  

They're apparently pretty good little bowlers, and they definitely all have award-winning smiles.  I said to Bill that little Levi looks like he's gonna be quite a bruiser.  Bill said Levi has to be tough cuz, after all, he's Cliff Irish's grandson.  Cliff Irish is one tough, lovable truck-drivin' dude whom I've known since high school.  

Rusty Irish is a lovable milder version of Cliff---but a truck driver and a lifelong friend of my son Willie's.  Melissa Irish is a lifelong sweetheart and the daughter of two of my former students, Dan and Dorene (Stutzke) Balch. 

I've known Dan since childhood, in fact,  probably most of his life.  His family of Balches were family friends of my parents.  My mother used to talk to his mom Etta almost every day, always about horses, specifically Arabians. 

In fact, the Balches (Gene and Etta)  were responsible for our family turning from Appaloosas to Arabians.  They sold my folks two Arabians back in the 1950s, and the family has owned horses of that beautiful breed ever since. Also, Dan's older sister Andrea and I have been good friends for decades.

By the way, Dan's a truck-drivin' dude, just like Cliff.

Now for the Stangel boys.  They're shirt-tail relatives of ours, and I must say that shirt-tail's pretty thin.  Their grandfather Ron and my first cousin Lauri are related by marriage, thanks to Lauri's husband who is Ron's first cousin. 

I've known the Stangel boys' mother Mindy since she was born, and I've known their grandmother Linda for most of my adult life.  Ron and Linda both worked with me for years at Sandpoint High School. 

Now---for the rest of the tales of old-home week, I must go back to Rusty and Willie.  Rusty and Willie first met at Patti Howell's babysitting service.  They were probably toddlers at the time. They, like many other local youngsters, enjoyed great beginnings to their lives while spending many hours of  their childhood days at Patti's while their moms and dads were at work. 

Patti Howell called me the day before yesterday, seeking news about the building on First and Main,  owned by her son-in-law since the early 1990s.  Seems it's been remodeled and somebody's wanting to write a story about it for the Daily Bee.  Patti was looking for some history on the building. 

She knew that I had a longtime relationship with the Crockett family who owned the building before her son-in-law purchased it.  I knew that it originally belonged to Helen Crockett's parents, the Sims.  I have vague memories of "Mrs. Sims" from my childhood days spent hanging out at Helen's house on Lake Street. I told Patti I'd try to get ahold of Sally Crockett Clifford who should know more about the building's history.

Also, in our discussion, Patti mentioned Willie.  That little baby boy, all of seven months old, whom she took in so long ago, is now Patti's granddaughter's teacher.  And, Patti wanted to express appreciation for what Willie's done to encourage Miranda over the past year.

Miranda will have a key job on next year's Cedar Post staff.  I knew that earlier but also knew not to say anything until it was official.  Apparently, it's official cuz Patti told me about it, and she was quite pleased.  

By the way, there were a lot of smiling faces in an earlier daily paper this week when a photo showed my sister Barbara's and Willie's publications students who did very well at their national convention last month. 

I said good bye to Patti and began the search to find a telephone number for Sally Crockett Clifford.  Eventually, I connected with her husband's law office and left a message for someone to let me know how to get in touch with Sally.  

Then, I drove to town to buy this year's version of the Lovestead weed eater.  My battery-operated model from last year did good work for me, but it's at the point where an overnight charge of the battery gives me all of three minutes' worth of weed eating.

I went to Merwins where I first met Terri Yaw, who directed me to her husband Ray Yaw, Jr. (former student).  Ray found me a gas-operated Poulin weed eater.  At the check stand, Ray and Terri's son Doug (former student) stood listening while Grant Merwin (former student) came over to visit.  

After acknowledging that my son Willie was teaching his daughter, Grant proudly told me that Jessi would be the new Cedar Post editor next year.  I knew that was a possibility but again had kept my trap shut until hearing it officially.

Then, Grant told the group gathered around the check stand about his most vivid memory as a student in my senior English class.  Another student had just gotten a new pocket knife and had it open on his desk.

As Grant turned around to look at it, he sliced his arm cuz the blade was sticking up on the desk.  Grant recalled that he had come up to my desk, bleeding, and said he needed to leave the room.  I'm sure the sight of blood softened my usual sternness.  Yesterday Grant told us he still had a scar to show for that incident. 

Times have changed since Grant sat in my class.  A kid with a visible knife would make headlines these days.  

After leaving Merwin's, I headed home with my new weed eater.  I walked into the house, and there was a message on the answering machine from Sally Crockett.  I called her back.

Now, that was an old-home-week conversation at its best.  Sally hasn't lived in Sandpoint since she went away to the University of Idaho and earned an English major.  She has since lived most of her life in California, has traveled the world and even written a book or two.  We visit every few years, and the conversation takes off immediately. 

Sally was always an inspiration to me, probably because I got her hand-me-down SHS pep sweater and because of our common love for writing.  Her mother Helen was one of my mother's best friends, so much so that she was at the old hospital the night I was born nearly 63 years ago.  

After visiting briefly about recent life highlights, which for Sally included a trip to Israel, Jordan and Paris, as well as New York where they live part-time, I said good bye and told her Patti Howell might be calling her for information about that building the Sims had owned so long ago in Sandpoint. 

I like days like yesterday.  I also like seeing photos like the one of the youth bowlers in this morning's paper.  Both remind me of how lucky I am to be part of one big extended and very connected Sandpoint family with generations of history in this town.  

In fact, there's no better feeling.  Any day touched by "old-home-week" tales is a very good day indeed.