One of my favorite yearbook pics: Don Minter as Santa Claus, giving the peace sign

Cardinals, Pirates, LA, Oh My

   

I don’t watch baseball that much anymore.  But I watched and listened to all that I could in the 60’s.  Right now, the Pirates and the Cardinals are playing for the right to go on to the ALGS.  I had several teams that I rooted for in those days, and Pittsburgh and St. Louis were two of those teams.  Among the reasons were that both teams had a player from the Boise Valley, where I grew up.  Vern Law pitched for the Pirates, and in 1960, the year they beat the Yankees in the World Series, he won the Cy Young award and also won 2 games in that seven-game series.  Larry Jackson pitched several years for the Cardinals before being traded to the Cubs, where he won 24 games in 1966 and finished 2^nd in the Cy Young voting to a guy named Sandy Koufax.  I followed baseball almost religiously, and I remember Pirate names on the world champion 1960 team like Smokey Burgess, Bill Mazeroski, Dick Groat, Don Hoak, Bill Virdin, Bob Skinner, Dick Stuart, Elroy Face, Harvey Haddix, and, of course Roberto Clemente. 

In the mid-sixties I became more of a Cardinal fan, even after Jackson left St. Louis for Chicago.  Dick Groat was traded to St. Louis, where he played shortstop.  I chose number 24 as my number one year in baseball because that was his number and he was my favorite player.  Groat, along with Bill White at first base, Julian Javier at second, and Ken Boyer at third were the starting infield for the National League one year.  Curt Flood, Lou Brock, Mike Shannon, Tim McCarver, and, of course, the original “Mr.” October Bob Gibson were on those teams.

I was never a huge Dodger fan in those days, but I vividly recall 50 years ago this month watching them sweep the Yankees in 4 games to win the ’63 World Series.  Pitchers Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, and Johnny Podres, buried the Yankees.

So who am I rooting for in this game tonight?  Like a lot of folks I’d love to see the Pirates go on, since they made the post season for the first time in 22 years, and haven’t been in the World Series since the “We are Family” Pirates of 1979.  On the other hand, the Cardinal uniforms are just the coolest of all time. 

One of the reasons I don’t watch too much baseball is that the games start way to late in the eastern time zone.  So I’ll find out in the morning who won.

Lions, Linemen, and Candy-Ass Backs

Listening to Greg Phillips interviewed on the radio last week brought back some memories.  Well, maybe the memories are never that far from my mind.  For most of us who graduated from Borah in 1969, high school football was our last ‘hurrah’, although some of us played 1 year of college ball.  But Greg, Ted Buck, and Darrell Burchfield (the Vandal) played 4 years of college football.  Jeff Phillips had to hang it up early at BSU, after his knee finally convinced him football was over for him, or he would have put in his 4 years, too.  Greg and Ted were part of the Boise State starting offense in 1971 that had 6 former Borah Lions in the starting lineup and captured the Camellia Bowl championship, the biggest NCAA Division II game at that time for small colleges west of the Mississippi. 

In high school Greg was the most vocal of the “five friendly fannies” – a term for interior linemen that a former college coach used to use – and he wasn’t afraid to give his opinion on spoiled backs.  I remember a late summer afternoon in ‘68 when I was standing around shootin’ the breeze outside the locker room with, I think, Bill Cady and Don Minter, while Greg, Jeff and Ted were working on blocking techniques about 50 yards away on the practice field.  And Cratz was working them hard.  A few minutes later they were heading into the locker room for a drink of water.  As they walked past, Greg couldn’t resist a comment (he rarely could resist one): “You guys are workin’ real hard.  Candy-ass backs.”  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that description, and probably not the last.

 That whole line was quite a crew.  If you follow high school football today you might find it hard to believe that it was rare when a team had even one player weighing over 200 lbs in the starting lineup. When we were juniors, senior Bruce Cleveland was the only offensive starter over 200 lbs, and he weighed 205.  Ted, Greg, and Jeff tipped the scales at 225, 235, and 235 respectively, and with Darrell Burchfield weighing in at 200 at tight end, well, there was no line comparable.  Tony Wallace – who in my opinion was pound for pound the toughest Lion of all, weighed 180, which was an average lineman size.  And then there was center Tom Perkins at, uh, 170, and I think he was fudging a bit at that.  Of course, to me, he was the most important guy on the line because he was the one who snapped the ball to me every play.  And he was completely dependable.  The first game of the year I had a big blister in the palm of my left hand so I had to receive the snap with one hand, so all snaps had to be perfect.  And they were.

The truth be told, it was the offensive lines at Borah during those championship years that made the Lions almost unstoppable – the Lions were Kings of the Southern Idaho Conference for 13 of 14 years between 1958 and 1971  And they had to put up with a lot, including being told they were too slow, not tough enough, and then reading about the ‘candy-ass’ backs on the sports page of the Idaho Statesman.  But, hey, this blog is read by literally dozens of people.  So enjoy some glory, you…you…big time linemen.

The Conversion of Malcolm Muggeridge: Anthropology Meets Theology

The Old Testament prophet Isaiah had a life changing experience, which is described in the sixth chapter of the book that bears his name:  “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, sitting on a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple…. And I said ‘Woe is me!  For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and…my eyes have seen the Lord of hosts!”

Below are three paragraphs about the British journalist Malcolm Muggeridge, written by pastor and author Richard D. Phillips.

Malcolm Muggeridge, the famous British journalist, had a life- changing experience that was very different from the prophet Isaiah.  Yet in one respect it was quite similar: they both came to a piercing awareness of their depraved spiritual condition.  But whereas Isaiah learned to say “Woe is me!” in the face of God, Muggeridge learned it in the face of a leper woman.

On assignment in India, Muggeridge went to a river for a swim.  As he entered the water, his eyes fell on a woman bathing.  He felt an impulse to go to her and seduce her, just as King David felt when he saw Bathsheba.  Temptation storming in his mind, he began swimming toward her.  The words of his wedding vows came to his mind, but he responded by just going faster.  The voice of allurement called out, “Stolen water is sweet” (Prov. 9:17), and he swam more furiously still.  But when he pulled up near the woman and she turned, Muggeridge saw, “She was a leper…. This creature grinned at me, showing a toothless mask.”  His first reaction was to despise her:  “What a dirty, lecherous woman!” he thought.  But then it crashed in on him that it was not the woman who was lecherous; it was his own heart.  This is precisely the teaching of the Bible about the moral and spiritual condition of men and women: our hearts are corrupt, our minds are depraved, and our desires are enslaved to the passions of sin.

It was not by chance that Isaiah felt his depravity when confronted with God’s holy presence, any more than it was by chance that Muggeridge’s glimpse of his true condition led to his conversion to Christianity.  One way to put this is that theology and anthropology are always linked.  In order to understand the truth about yourself and other people, you have to see the truth about God – and vice versa.  John Calvin made this point in his Institutes of the Christian Religion”, commenting that one may begin a study of theology either with God or with man, since to know either correctly, you must correctly know the other.

(From the book “What’s So Great About the Doctrines of Grace”, by Richard D Phillips)

Letters to my Stepdaughter VI

This is the final installment of my letters that I wrote to my stepdaughter.  This one was written in February of 2013.  Much has happened since I wrote the first one in November in 2012.  My goal was to introduce myself to her, since we had only spoken a few times.  In intoducing myself to her, I could not keep from presenting the gospel, because the gospel is a part of me.  Or maybe it would be better say that I, by the grace of God, have entered into the gospel through Jesus Christ and I now have my life in its midst.

Warning signs are everywhere, such as “Caution”, “Wrong way”, Dead End”, “Railroad”.  We get away with ignoring some of them without immediate consequences.  But if we ignore all of them, we do so at our own peril.  Many of them I don’t like.  I prefer to pick and choose.  As serious as it can be to drive thru a dead end sign, nothing compares to violating God’s holy, immutable laws.  Nothing even comes close.

 Like it or not, believe it or not, you and I entered this worlds with “dictator” written on our foreheads – no, written on our hearts.  In God’s great patience, He patiently endures our rebellion, foolishness, and, worst of all, hatred of all that he stands for.  By nature I am moody, selfish, prone to addictions, irresponsible, lustful, and on and on.  Those are the visible fruits of a life that inwardly is something much worse.  I want to run my own life.  That’s why I am a dictator, and an evil one at that.  Nobody, not even the God who made every atom and rules an immeasurable universe, is going to run my life. Or so I think.  He says “the soul that sins shall die.”  I think I can possibly tremble for a few minutes about such a statement, but eventually, I’m going to do what I want. 

Do you think seriously about what the serpent, Satan, told Eve when he tempted her to eat the fruit and break the one “no-no” that God had given her and Adam?  He told her she would be like god.  Now, the real God, the only God, had told the first man and woman that they would die when they ate the fruit.  And they did – immediately.  They ran away, hid, and made clothes for themselves out of fig leaves, hoping to hide the God who was now their enemy.  There was no sorrow for sin, no plan to confess to God what they had done.  Read it again.  When God spoke to them, they tried to place the blame somewhere else – Adam blamed Eve, and she blamed the serpent.  The Holy God showed mercy and allowed them to live physically, but they were quite dead in the way that really mattered.  They were spiritually dead.  Here’s where you and I come in.  We died with them, before we were even born.  Don’t even try arguing the point, because He has said it is so, and no other opinion matters.  Through Adam and Eve came death into the world for everyone who came after.  Period. 

Now, here is the incredible lie that we believe.  We think we are alive.  We live in self-delusion.  We proclaim ourselves masters of our fate, we boast that we can follow our hearts (which are fully corrupted by our rebelliousness nature), and we think that we are basically good, and just have a few faults that drag us down from time to time.  We lie to ourselves.  Worse, we live a lie before God.  Can a man say “I believe in God” and then turn around and live for himself and give only lip service to God?  It happens all the time.  So, return to the warnings where we started.  I can warn you about many things.  Just to name a few signs, there is wastefulness, slothfulness, substance abuse and the corrupt life that goes along with it, sex outside of marriage, being quick-tempered, jealousy, and worshipping idols – an idol being anything one puts ahead of God.  Do you know what?  I stole that list out of the Scriptures.  Sin is not hard to find, and God hates sin. 

The list is not without meaning, and neither is a sign.  But a sign’s value is not in what it is by itself, but what it is pointing to.  I cannot beg you hard enough to do what you must do.  What you must do is run to Jesus, bow before Him, and confess that you, like me, are sinner who needs mercy, and then rise up prepared to follow Him to the ends of the earth.  But I cannot move you, persuade you, or bribe you to do so.  It is the work of the Holy Spirit that transforms a heart.  I pray daily for you.  God bless you and reveal His wonderful grace to you, Dear Stepdaughter.  

Letters to my Stepdaughter V

This was written in January of 2013.

Have you ever thought about the enormity of everything around us?  I do.  I am writing this at about 7:30 P.M.  Here are some facts.  I am only one of over 7 billion people in the world.  Since I woke up this morning nearly 300,000 babies have been born and about 125,000 people have died.  One thousand today have died by some form of violence.  There have been over 100,000 abortions, which is almost as many as the number of deaths.  What is the point of this?  It is an inescapable fact that, in one sense, I am very insignificant.  In that sense, I am just a number.  On top of that, I live on a tiny planet in a galaxy that is part of a universe that has trillions and trillions of galaxies.  I am only a speck.  Now, that can leave me with a sense of a futility.  I will be dead and gone in a comparatively short time, so what about me really matters? 

Now, let me make a connection.  You and your mother have begun a Bible study, a study in a small New Testament book called Colossians.  The one who created this incredibly large universe providentially determined that a book – the Bible – would be given as a gift to His people.  In His incredible, incomprehensible mind He determined that you two would be studying it in the year we call 2013.   The words in this Book are life to believers, to those whose eyes have been opened and ears unstopped in order that they might begin to understand just a little – and just enough to make Him their greatest treasure – about this all-mighty, all-powerful God.  As you study, I hope that you will grasp what God has done for those who believe.  This book unfolds the wondrous plan of salvation.  God’s word is meat and drink, a glorious feast for Christians. 

One of the gracious gifts that God has given to his children is the inner joy that we experience knowing that we have eternal life in Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  I hope you also see its sober warnings.  We are warned not to be entrapped by the philosophy of the world.  We are warned to turn from what God calls sin.  We are commanded here (and in many, many other places in scripture) to maintain pure worship, sexual integrity, a love of the truth, love for others, and persevering faith.  Wow, that’s a lot.  And it is impossible for anyone not filled with the Spirit of God to be able to do it.  I will be praying for you as you study.  Like me, you are a small speck in this universe.  May God reveal to you what it means to live not as a meaningless speck, but as an adopted child of the Living God.

Wyatt Barbour, about 3 weeks old

Holding my grandson, Wyatt, 10 years ago when he was about three weeks old.  Standing by is his mother, probably making sure I don't drop him.  

Letters to my Stepdaughter IV

Christmas time was special when I was growing up.  I loved the decorated tree, the lights, the fire in the fire place, the presents under that tree, the Christmas specials on television.  Of course, one had to watch everything live because there were no VCRs or DVD players.  And, of course, we played the scratchy, vinyl Christmas records that we got out each year. Goodyear produced a “Best Songs of Christmas” album each year.  Choirs, soloists, and orchestras would perform all the favorites:  “Silent Night”, “Sleigh Ride”, “O Holy Night”, and “Here Comes Santa Claus”.  I took it all in. I felt “good” about it.  It was like what they now call comfort food.

My mom reminds me how I loved to sing. On the day of the Christmas program in elementary school – the Christmas program was always the day before Christmas vacation – I was going into the bathroom when a boy pulled on the hood of my coat.  I tumbled down and landed hard enough to get a shiner over one of my eyes, as well as blood on my shirt.  My mom just reminded me of that the other day, and how I still belted out the Christmas songs that the combined choir sang in the auditorium.  I walked home from school afterward (we just lived a few blocks away from school) and my mom could hear me singing as I was turning into the yard, “We three kings of Orrie and tar” – that’s how I pronounced it.  She said she met me at the door laughing.

 

The other side of the holidays is not really surprising.  Christmas can be a very melancholy time.  I loved the holidays and I hated when they came to an end.  It would be years later that I would begin to see the trap.  I was trying to make earthly experiences, even good ones, my idols.  If life was just the way I wanted it to be then, well, life would be wonderful.  It wasn’t until the Lord invaded my life, renewed my heart, and gave me the faith to believe that Jesus Christ was a savior worthy of worship that I began to see the emptiness of my personal dreams.  Not empty because dreams themselves are bad.  It’s simply that the story of my life was intended to be written and directed by Him, not the whim of my immediate emotional desires.  God himself is “the author and finisher of our faith” as the scripture says.  When He makes a human being into a new person – born again is the biblical term – then that person knows the truth.  The truth is this.  Life worth living is found in the One who offered Himself on the cross, willingly and intentionally suffering for undeserving sinners that He had loved from before the foundation of the earth.  Those who turn to Him by faith and put their faith in the Gospel – the good news that eternal life is given to those who are broken-hearted because they realize they have sinned against a holy God – have true life, life that will go on eternally.  A once-a-year celebration of Christmas, no matter how enjoyable, is nothing compared to that. 

So I’ll sing the songs, and I’ll laugh, and I’ll enjoy some holiday chocolate fudge.  But I won’t quit thinking about and meditating joyfully on that Baby who grew to adulthood, shed His Royal blood for me, and has prepared an eternal home for me.  That is a real Christmas celebration that never turns melancholy. 

Letters to my Stepdaughter III

I wrote this in December of 2012.  If you know football schedules, you’ll notice the reference to the Army-Navy game, which is traditionally played in December.

High school.  I still believed in magic.  I went to a school where football was practically a life or death matter.  Since I liked football and hoped to do great things, it was right up my alley.  And a lot of it was good.  But I was learning that much of it was dark.  Life, I mean.

 We had a sophomore team, and I started the season as the backup quarterback.  And I hated the starting quarterback.  It seems ridiculous now, but it’s the way it was.  I would like to think that I was above that sort of thing – jealousy, despising people—but, yeah, that was me.  It would be much later before I would learn the depth of my depravity.  That was not my concern at the time.

 We played 7 games that year.  Halfway through the 4^th game, against or rival Capital High School, the starting quarterback broke his collarbone.  So I got my chance.  It was not an impressive start. I threw an interception and fumbled twice.  One of the fumbles was recovered for a touchdown – for the other team.  But, we went on to win 14-12.  In fact we won all of our games that year.  I threw 4 touchdown passes during the season and the other quarterback didn’t throw any.  Take that, Bob Nowierski!

 So it was competition all the time, it seems, in one way another.  I had my first date that sophomore year.  I don’t think she spoke one full sentence to me the whole night, and I was too terrified to start a conversation.   It was a not a great way to start my dating life, but it least it started.  Interestingly, I discovered something else in high school.  Winter depressed me, especially after Christmas.  Truthfully, I was pretty moody.

 Another side trip. When I flipped on the Army-Navy game yesterday it reminded me that 50 years ago I watched Roger Staubach lead Navy to victory over Army. Roger became my hero as a quarterback at the time.

 Back to the “moody” thing.  It’s no use trying to compare myself with others. I thought I was the center of the universe.  And that, sadly, is normal.  I had not come to understand yet why that was.  I did not understand or even care about the seriousness of the fall, the rebellion of our parents Adam and Eve.  To openly defy God is a horrendous act, but that’s what they did.  And it affected every human being who came after them.  We all are rebels against God, coming into this world with the desire to submit to nothing buy our own desires.  So my real problem was not that I was moody.  It was that I was a rebel.  Life was not a mess because things didn’t go my way.  Life was a mess because I was willingly and shamelessly ignoring the God who created me, who is also the God who rightly claims authority over my life and commands that I place nothing before Him.  You know what? How important was that when girls, football fame, and popularity were desires (really, idols) to pursue?

So what else went on in high school?  I will be back. 

Letters to my Stepdaughter II

This letter to my stepdaughter was written in late November of 2012.

Where was I?  Oh, I remember.  The ninth grade.  But first I must ramble.  You will indulge me because I’m at the age where I can get away with rambling.  I was just putting together some things to send to my kids for Christmas.  Old stuff.  Sports programs, newspaper articles (the sports kind, of course), stuff like that. I have programs from games I went to 50 years ago. It’s time to share them.  I have a number of things like that from my dad, including a preseason college football magazine from the 1930’s.  Back then college teams had offensive linemen who weighed less than 200 pounds. 

The ninth grade was much better.  By the fall of my ninth grade year (I was in a junior high so high school didn’t start until grade 10) I could almost talk to girls.  Almost.  I had discovered my maleness (and that is as much as I shall say about it, not that I am ashamed of human sexuality, it’s just that some things are appropriate and some things are not, depending on the circumstances) in the spring of the 7th grade,  and I liked girls.  Not enough to take the steps to try to have a girl friend (boy was I shy and goofy around girls), but I could dream, couldn’t I?  And there was football, which was becoming a big part of my life. I was 3rd string quarterback at the beginning of the season.  In the second game of the year, I got in the game at the end and carried the ball for a first down.  I can still remember the “high” that gave me.  The next week I got in at quarterback in a losing game and scored a touchdown.  From that point on I was the starting quarterback.  I threw two touchdown passes in my first start in the next game.  No holding back now.  From then on my goal was to be the starting quarterback at my high school in my senior year.  

A few years ago I was thinking back on my early years and I discovered something interesting.  My favorite years in growing up time were the 3rd grade, the 6th grade, the 9th grade, and the 12th grade.  I’m not going to try to come up with some weird reason why, it’s just the way it was. The worst thing about growing up for me was that I didn’t like the idea that this was not such a perfect world, the world of my dreams.  

I remember sitting on the bleachers in the gym during lunch on November 11, 1963. That was the thing to do in our junior high.  I was in the 7th grade.  All of a sudden I started hearing that President Kennedy had been shot.  I remember – this is one of those things that stuck with me – hearing a couple of kids saying “Hey, did you hear?  Kennedy kicked the bucket.”  It was something silly, something to be laughed at.  I didn’t believe it. I just thought it was some kind of junior high humor.  When I got to my first class after lunch, radio news was being piped in to each classroom via the public address system. Kennedy had been shot and the report said he had died. For the next three hours we listened to the news.  I don’t remember any of it, but it all seemed surreal.  The president was dead.  Even though my family was a Republican family, this was shocking.  It was a Friday so for the next three days I was pretty much glued to the television.  They said the assassin was Lee Harvey Oswald.  I was watching on tv on Sunday morning when a man named Jack Ruby shot and killed Oswald on live tv. I watched the funeral on television on Monday.  School was out for the day.  

The reality of a fallen world. The murder of the President of the United States.  The interesting thing is that even events like that are soon forgotten. Christmas soon came, and a few weeks after that, the Beatles were on the Ed Sullivan show singing “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” and “She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” and the “British Invasion” was on.  MUCH better than any of YOUR generation’s music, of course.  LOL.  And not long after that I got my first ten-speed bicycle.  Life went on. Yet I had much to learn about its realities.

Letters to my Stepdaughter

Back in November of 2012 I decided I wanted my step daughter get to know a little bit about me.  So, I wrote her a series letters on line.  Here is the first one.

It's time -- at least I think it is -- for you to get to know the one you call "step dad" – and I think I've heard you call me Pops once or twice.  Am I remembering correctly?  My daughters call me Pops.  My oldest daughter calls me Pops the Bops.  I guess because it rhymes.  But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

 I was born a long way from here in a lovely town in a valley next to the mountains in Idaho.  Idaho, the Southern part of Idaho in particular, was the real world to me. Most other places must have been weird, or just something that might be interesting to learn about. I mostly remember playing outside whenever I could. We played tag, army, cowboys and Indians, rode tricycles -- and then bikes --played hide and seek, built roads in the dirt piles, rang door bells and ran away, built forts, stole green apples off neighbors’ trees, played in the ditch, played in the sand box, swung on the swings, made a mixture we called "chop suey" and poured it on ant piles, caught honey bees, and, most importantly, played baseball.  That was the most serious part. Baseball was serious business and man did I have a temper if things went wrong.

  I was always the cute, red-headed kid and I hated it.  Now, being cute had its advantages because I could get away with a lot of stuff. But I could have done without the freckles.  Actually, I hated them. I only knew 3 or 4 people when I was growing up who had as many freckles as I. I was also a chronic bed wetter, and that was really embarrassing. I was about 13 or 14 before that came to an end. As you can imagine I never went on sleepovers. I guess everyone grows up with the fear that others are going to discover their "weird stuff".  If we really saw ourselves as we really are, we'd have more weird stuff than we think. I think I was normal wishing I could trade my weird stuff for somebody else's.  It would be much later in my life that I would discover -- no, God would reveal to me -- that we are all sinners who, as scripture says, "fall short of the Glory of God".  So in once sense I was no worse than anyone else when it came right down to it.  But that understanding came later.

 My family life was what probably would have been called the ideal American family.  Of course, there is really no such thing.  It was a pretty functional family. My parents just celebrated their 67th wedding anniversary. My Mom will be 90 in three months if the Lord gives her more days.  My 1st wife referred to my parents as Ward and June Cleaver.  But we were just a family. We kids fought like cats and dogs, and then we would turn around and protect and support each other.  I didn't realize at the time that divorce would become common place. I would never have thought that I and my two brothers and my sister would all end up with divorces.  But it happened.  But back then it wasn't an issue. 

  But Junior high was an issue. Yikes.  The seventh grade and I'm in a school with 9th graders, some of whom looked like adults. I hated the 7th and 8th grades, but life seemed to get better in the 9th grade.  Why?  Well, I'll have to tell you tomorrow 'cause I've done reached my writing limit for the evening.  I hope you've gotten some pleasure out of learning a little bit more about Step Dad.  If time cooperates with opportunity, I’ll write you some more tomorrow.  Meanwhile, I pray for God’s blessing in your life.

Missing May. 1963

Wait.  May 1963 was 50 years ago?  Really?

"Happiness is nothing more than having a poor memory. If you can't remember what happened yesterday, you feel pretty good today.” Lou Holtz

Maybe that is why I pick out certain “growing up” years and think of them as my favorites.  More than likely, I only remember the positive highlights and my mind has blocked out any and all misery.  Nevertheless, I’m sticking by my claim that 1963 was a pleasant year to remember.

I remember getting together with Grandpa and Grandma Barbour on January 1.  It was a something we did often on New Year’s Day; at least, that’s the way I remember it.  We would watch the bowl games, and my grandpa would say, “Do you want to bet 10?”  That meant ten cents, and he always paid up if he lost and never demanded I pay up if I lost. The big game that year was #1 Southern California vs. #2 Wisconsin, the first time #1 had met #2 in the Rose Bowl.  USC pulled out a 42-37 win.

I began to pay more attention to rock and roll music in 1963, which was a good time to do that, since 1963-1966 were the 'heart and soul' years of the greatest music decade ever.  Of course, not all rock and roll was really rock and roll, if you know what I mean.  Some of the best that year included 'girl group' songs like "He's So Fine" and "My Boy Friend's Back"; a Japanese singer Kyu Sakamoto reached number one 6 months before the Beatles with "Sukiyaki"; the Beach Boys released "Surfer Girl", and Leslie Gore had back to back hits in the summer with "It's My Party" and "Judy's Turn to Cry".  The biggest single of the year was "Sugar Shack" by Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs.

I received one of those five-year diaries (does anybody remember those?) for Christmas , I think in 1961.  I wrote it in it sporadically, but I did record a few things of importance in February of 1963.  I received a note from a girl telling me she loved me.  Don’t ask me if I ever got another one.  And I wrote that I scored 6 points in a sixth grade basketball game.  That may not seem like much, but the scores of our games were usually something like 20-16, so I felt pretty high and mighty after that one.  We had a good team at Jackson.  Rick Clemons was our star player.  There used to be a tournament for all the 6^th grade teams, and we only lost one game in the tournament.

Movies usually came to the theaters in Boise a year later than the rest of the world.  So, often when the academy awards were given out, nobody around here had even seen the pictures yet.  I wrote in my diary that I went to see "To Kill a Mockingbird" in the summer of 1963 with my friend Jeff Shoun.  What I didn't write down was that I had to choke back tears when Tom Robinson was found guilty by the jury.  I was so convinced that Atticus Finch had convinced them that Tom was innocent.  I read the book that summer -- probably the ONLY book that I read that summer -- and I discovered something that stuck with me.  A good novel is always better than the movie.  I later read it with my English classes when I taught, and it is my favorite novel.

One of the reasons I looked forward to May was baseball. Our team, Sherm Perry Furniture, had a good summer in 1963.  We finished second to Idaho Sporting Goods, who had a lot of players who wound up at Bishop Kelly.  I can’t forget our Infield:  first base, Jeff Shoun; second base, Tony Wallace, I played shortstop; and Kenny Worley played third base.  Gary Hatch was our catcher, and sometimes Frank Woodall.  Larry Szurgot and Gary Padgett did most of the pitching.  I know Steve Rodda played in the outfield.  It was my favorite year of playing what was my favorite sport, until football took over in junior high.

If you played in band in Boise public schools during the early 1960s, your music book looked like this.

Do you remember the Elementary Music Festival?  I played a duet in 1963 with my friend and neighbor John Killebrew.  We played a duet and got a “1” rating.

Coach Troxel, who seemed god-like to those of us in the sixth grade, brought some of the Borah track athletes to Jackson School to show off their track skills. One of them was Dave Severn, who won the 100 yard dash at the state meet.  Baseball was my first love of any sport, but I eventually gave it up and began running track.  The first state track meet I remember attending was in 1963.  Borah won its third straight state track championship under Coach Troxel, and it would be his last track championship.  The Lions would be runners up his final two years.  I remember watching Ron Imel win the 120 yard high hurdles, and I thought I wanted to be a hurdler some day.  Uh.... no.  It was the first state track meet I attended, and it would be over 30 years before I would miss one.

The teachers at Jackson Elementary put together a school newspaper.  This is the issue that we received on the last of school in 1963.

If you can’t read this, there is nothing wrong with you.  Why I saved this I don’t know, but this is what I decided to write down what happened on the last day of school that year.

Do you remember the physical fitness tests we took in the spring and the fall?  This is mine from May of 1963.  I hated pull ups.

There was more to come in 1963.  But that will be another day.

Memorial Day

I never wore the uniform, so I have no battle scars;

I never faced an enemy, and I earned no warrior’s stars;

I didn’t set aside my own dreams to serve others in that way,

So I can’t really claim to know the price they had to pay.

“No greater love can ever be” a Bible verse relates,

“Than one lay down his life for his brother” His word further states;

Willing to risk one’s life so that others may live free,

Is just what many others have done to give a better life to me.

Yet daily as I go through life, the time I spend is rare,

To consider what it’s meant to me, how little I seem to care;

That other s died that I might live, enjoying a land so free,

I must never forget the price they paid – no, that must never be.

And somehow in our Lord’s great plan, all this was meant to be,

Though I myself, a mortal man, need clearer eyes to see;

How war and suffering do not hinder our God’s perfect plan,

I seek to trust the One whose ways surpass the ways of man.

 I can and must give thanks to God for those who served and died,

As well as for those still here today, all those who have survived;

Reveal your love to us, Dear Lord, give all fresh eyes to see,

That freedom and life with you as Lord is how it’s meant to be.

Coach Murray Satterfield, 1926-2013

“S—A—T—T—E-R-F-I-E-L-D.  Cooooooach Satterfield!”  At some point during a Borah basketball game in the first half of the decade of the 60’s, the Lion cheerleaders would lead the Pep Club in that cheer.  I remember that because I was kind of a Borah sports nerd at that time.  And, of course, my sister was a sophomore cheerleader during Coach Satterfield’s last year at Borah, and I remember her practicing her cheers at home.

I began following Borah sports competition seriously when I was in the 6^th grade, aka, the 1962-1963 school year.  The year before, the 1961-1962 Borah basketball team had a great run. I remember most a 5-8 guard named Dick Powell (brother of Gary Powell, class of’67) and 6-6 center Bill Farley.  In those days, the state tournament alternated between Pocatello and Boise.   I remember listening on the radio to the Lions, who had the best record in the Treasure Valley, lose in the semi-finals and I was heart broken.  In the 62-63 season, the Lions appeared to be the best in the valley again.

1961-62 Borah Lions

The Lions played well during the early regular season with a team with so much talent it was hard to figure who should be the starters.  Halfway through the season Coach Satterfield kicked several players off the team for shop lifting.  I don’t remember all the details, but only one of the regular starting five was left.  He filled the empty spots with players from the sophomore and JV teams, and the team finished the season respectably, including two wins over the rival Boise Braves.  Needless to say, it took a lot of character to dismiss some top athletes, including his own son, and hold them accountable for their actions.  The Lions did not make it to the state tournament.

1963-64 Borah Lions

The next season the Lions were in top form.  Led by Ron Imel, who was voted the #1 player in the state by the sportswriters, the Lions were 22-1 heading into state and were heavily favored to win it all. But for the second time in three years the Lions lost in the semi-finals – to Twin Falls – after blowing a big lead.

1964-65 Borah Lions

In '65 they were 22-1 going into state again, but this time they came from behind in the semi-finals and beat Couer d Alene.  After the game, Coach Satterfield excitedly told the Statesman reporter, “We broke the semi-finals jinx!”  The next night they got some revenge by overcoming Twin Falls, and Borah had its 1st state basketball title, 48 years ago. Coach Satterfield was hired to coach Boise Junior College – which was preparing to become a four year institution – after that season.  Borah won its second state championship again the next year without him.  

I found this last picture very interesting.  This is a picture of Coach Satterfield in the fall of 1965, the year he took the basketball head coaching job at Boise Junior College. with head coach Lyle Smith and the football staff.  Yes, the football staff.  He got the head basketball job, but in those days you did double, or triple, duty.  And notice the size of the staff.  Four coaches.

Coach Satterfield coached his son Bob, who was on the team that lost in the semi-finals at state in 1964.  His son Jay was on the 1968 Borah team that lost in the semi-finals at state.  But the coach lead Borah to its first state title before going on to a successful college coaching career, including 134-77 record at Boise Junior College, Boise College, Boise State College, and Boise State University.

The Gift Through Death

The Gift Through Death

With His friends He dined that dark, lonely night;

Soon his soul would enter the ultimate fight-

An hour of darkness, beyond all thought,

A greater battle no man has ever fought.

The hour would come when His sweat would be red,

And then to the cross by men He’d be led.

Offering Himself, He’d be nailed to a tree,

Purchasing for His people the gift so free.

But first He must pray for His friends, so dear,

And for those who’d believe, both far and near;

So He prayed to His Father up above,

And asked Him to keep them by His love.

Our Lord knew He’d be taken by force that night

And His friends would experience incredible fright.

So He asked His Father to protect them all,

That despite their fears, they would not fall.

He spoke of how long before time began,

Before God formed the first woman and man,

The Father had purposed to have for all time

A people to enjoy His love sublime.

“Those you’ve given me” Jesus prayed that night

That we’d be forever kept in His sight.

He prays we’ll be His, so wherever we walk

Our lives will be built on the solid rock.

“Sanctify them,” He cries to His Father,

That neither storms nor fire will be a bother

To hinder or hold us in any way,

As His truth protects us every day.

What hope that gives to those on the earth

Who by His grace have received new birth.

The Son prays to the Father that we’ll be blessed,

In each  joyous moment, in every hard test.

“ Keep through your name,” the Savior prayed.

These words bring peace when we’re afraid,

For His name is called a strong, strong tower,

And that name protects in temptation’s hour.

Can we doubt, beloved, that the Father would hear

These glorious words from His Son, so dear?

Surely He answered, “I will, my Son,

When you offer yourself, the promise is won.”

Much more I could say about that eve,

But for now that subject I will leave.

To other thoughts I will now turn;

From these few verses there is more to learn.

What love the Father has for his Son;

It was first for Him that the giving was done.

The nature of love is to give, we know;

Yes, giving is loving, it has always been so.

“You gave them to me,” the Son cried out;

A most perfect gift, there is no doubt.

No, we’re not perfect, that is true;

Yet He wouldn’t give Him less than His due.

So a people He gave Him, a people with sin,

But His Spirit would come to change them within.

A new heart to desire those things from above,

Taught by God’s word, embraced by His love.

He guards His sweet gift, so precious, yet weak;

He still prays to His Father, this One so meek.

He intercedes always, for all of His own;

Could greater love by anyone be shown?

So let us rest in the One who freely gives;

Would He ever let go of the gift that His?

Would He let us go or set us aside?

Was it not for us that He suffered and died?

Would He snub His Father by despising us now?

Could He break His promise, His commitment, His vow?

No, never, this One who is Faithful and True;

This One who said, “I’ll never leave you.”

So this Lord’s day  let’s thank the one who gave

Himself for us, our souls to save.

“He who believes on me will never die;”

Could there be a better promise for you and I?

Thank you, dear Father, for the gift to your Son;

For our eternal life, the victory is won.

And one day we know He will give back to You

His sanctified people, unspotted, brand new.

The gift that you gave Him, He’ll bring to your throne.

And celebration will begin, as never was known

We’ll rejoice in the Lord forever and ever,

And ever and ever, and ever and ever.

Thoughts from John 17 and I Corinthians 15