I began going through some of mom’s old papers recently, a task I had shirked for some 20 months after her passing. With box of tissues near by I soon found myself feeling thankful for something she was known for, a character trait I use to criticize, and one, truth be told, I also inherited. Mom just didn’t like to throw anything away.
So after many months of missing her, I took on the job of trying to decide which of the last of her things I should get rid of.
Halfway through, my pile of what to keep was much greater than the one of what to pitch. What can I say, just a chip off the old block.
It wasn’t long before KM passed by, peeked in and saw the piles. She didn’t even ask, just shook her pretty head and moved on.
There were lots of newspaper cut outs from The Gazette, The Democrat and the North Little Rock Times – old faded and yellowing tear sheets she had collected and saved through the years. I found many Orville Henry columns (mom was a huge Hog fan) recipes (she was a great cook), and columns from Charles Allbright, Richard Allin and John Workman (she loved to laugh).
After already being there longer than I’d planned, I came across a clipping from the Democrat that had a familiar face in its center. The article, without a byline, was titled – “Only Right is Education,” and the man’s face in it, the one with the firm, stern and good face, was Father George W. Tribou.
It was dated May 13, 1970, and there must have been something, or many things Mom liked from it, because some 15 months later I was roaming the halls of Catholic High, on my first day as a freshman, likely wondering where all the girls, and hair, had gone.
I read the piece and put it in the larger “keep” file. Then I grabbed another tissue and whispered, “Thanks mom.”
That piece in the Democrat was about Father Tribou’s talk to a Little Rock Kiwanis Club. He told the group that the only rights students have in an educational institution is “the right to get an education.”
“You have a right to ask me two questions – when I say ‘jump,’ you may ask ‘how high?’ and ‘when do I come down?’”
That was some of our “life with Father,” but, nowhere near all. The man, while strict, was not intolerant. The fact is he really cared about all of us who walked the halls. And the love we still carry for him and our Alma Mater is real as well.
One of our classmates from 1975, Johnny Dallas (OK, he goes by J.R. now but when you were the quarterback and you were blessed with a name like Johnny Dallas, then any writer worth his salt has got to use it) set up a CHS Class of 1975 Facebook page. I posted the Democrat article in its entirety there and here are a few of the comments:
• What a man. We were so blessed. – Drew Broach
• Wonderful old memories. Where’s the cigar? – Mark Pearson
• I really did listen to what he had to say and remember a lot of it. At that age, I didn’t listen to well to any body but some how, like a bunch of others I bet, he just resonated with me. Really thankful for my time with the man. – Warren Simpson
I feel the same way guys.