The People that Touch Our Lives

I don’t know about you, but it amazes me that I have a hard time remembering the name of someone I met last week, yet a name from 50 years ago is right there waiting to be retrieved from its memory cell.

I’m talking about those people that made a huge impression, those that touched my life in such significant ways they’ll never be forgotten. Let’s trip back to 1953 and kindergarten class led by Mrs. Ross. Black hair brushed straight back and formed into a bun and the type of kind personality that helped a scared and confused kid get settled in his first class.

Fast-forward to third grade and Mrs. Carey comes to mind; a rotund lady with perfume that announced her presence from across a crowded classroom. She, too, made a difference in the life of this kid just beginning to grasp the intricacies of solving a seemingly complex math problem. Those two teachers at Kramer Elementary in Center Line, Michigan touched my life in very positive ways and it appears I’ll never forget them.

The one teacher that holds the first prize for “making a difference” is Clayton Hufnagel, my instructor (and mentor) through four years of English classes at Lutheran High School East in Harper Woods, Michigan. Mr. Hufnagel instilled a love of language and impressed upon a young teen how important expressing oneself clearly would be throughout life. Know what? He hit the nail on the head. I tried to throw him a curve when we were assigned the task of memorizing a “classic” poem and reciting it in class. I chose a very short excerpt from Chaucer’s Prologue to the Canterbury Tales and can still let it flow at a moment’s notice…in the original, Middle English, of course:

     Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
     The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
     And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
     Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
     Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
     Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
     The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
     Hath in the ram his halfe cours yronne,
     And smale foweles maken melodye

Enough of that, you get the idea. I can still remember Mr. Hufnagel standing at the back of the room, smiling, and his question, “so what does it mean?” when I finished. Whoa! Talk about a frozen moment! I took my best shot (guess) and must have done all right judging by the A+ grade received. He made me learn, to think and to remember. Great teachers and memorable folks will do that. Thanks, Clay.