生け花

The Kanji in the title of this entry refers to Ikebana or the Japanese art of flower arranging.

In contrast to the massing of blooms typical of flower arrangement in western countries, Japanese flower arrangement is based on the line of twigs and leaves, filled in with a small number of blooms. The container is also a key element of the composition. The structure of a Japanese flower arrangement is based on a scalene triangle delineated by three main points, usually twigs, considered in some schools to symbolize heaven, earth and man.

I believe this style represents best how we are influenced in life by both the beautiful and the mundane. Sometimes, we are even made better by the ugly.

This entry focuses on several of my influential friends.

I think many people think of friends who are influential as being influential on a general level, as in important because of who they are and what they can get accomplished. My definition is different. I think of anyone who teaches me something that changes me for the better, as a friend, even if we are not friendly. Below is a partial list for people who fit my definition. I hope no one who knows me who reads this is offended if their name is not on the list. There are two reasons I have this hope.

First, omissions are inadvertent rather than intentional; and second, it's not all that great an honor to be on a list I create.

Mike Johns

I first met Mike Johns when we were on the same Pony League baseball team. I was one of the pitchers and played shortstop when I wasn't pitching. Mike was our 1st string catcher and my first experience with a catcher that knew more about what to throw at a given hitter than I knew as a pitcher. Because of Mike's understanding of batters, even at a young age, I was able to throw 2 no-hitters in a single season with one of them being a perfect game. It was also because of Mike that I never lost a game that entire season and our team went on to win the State Championship for the State of Hawaii. For all of his diamond wisdom, however, he was really a jerk and one teammate that I simply could not stand to be around.

After a particularly strenuous practice just before a play-off game, during batting practice (no machines... the coach pitched and Mike caught), I learned that Mike liked me about as much as I liked him.

The coach was throwing and I was peppering them. Mike decided to create game-like conditions and started trash-chattering me.

During games, when other teams chattered, I never heard it and it never bothered me; but when my own teammate did it, I heard it and it pissed me off. After telling him twice to lay off, he responded with some insult so I turned and smacked him, as my father would say, "upside the head" with my Louisville Slugger. Mike stopped the chatter and I was pulled out of rotation and missed pitching in the play-offs.

Mike and I did become friends and remained so even when we were on opposing teams the next year.

Thank you, Mike, for teaching me that there is value in turning the other cheek.

Ed "Beezer" Vail

In 1968 I was working, part-time, as a cook at Sambo's. My friend, Beezer, asked if I could get him a job there as a dishwasher. I did and we worked together all Summer. In late October, I conspired with another employee, not Beezer, to steal a case of eggs to throw on Halloween. Beezer, Earl, Lyman and I had a great time throwing 30 dozen eggs at innocent bystanders in the Shoreline area of Seattle. A week later I was in front of the Sambo's manager getting fired for stealing eggs... ratted out by my friend Beezer, who, in turn, got my cook's job.

I am thankful for Ed's example of character and courage. He hadn't approached the manager but had been interrogated by him and simply told the truth even though he know it could mean both losing a friend and getting the crap kicked out of him. Neither occurred.

Bonnie Vail

Bonnie was Beezer's mother and mother to 11 others when I met her. Should would eventually be mother to 13 children.

When my father was transferred from Seattle just months before my high school graduation, Sister Vail invited me to stay with her family through the end of the school year and my parents acquiesced.

My own mother, beset most of her life with bi-polar issues, was Martha to Sister Vail's Mary. My mother insisted on a house in perfect order all the time and would get physically ill if something was out of place even if that something was in a sock drawer in my personal dresser in my personal bedroom. Sister Vail's home was always disorderly and she never seemed to care. During a conversation she and I were having one afternoon, I complained to her about my mother's fastidiousness and Sister Vail taught me a great lesson.

She taught me that all people have their own bugaboos and that comparisons were never appropriate. She made me see how it was torturous to my mother to suffer with the compulsion of perfection and her gentle lessons helped me learn to love my own mother more and to never judge people by the snapshots we take of them.

Les Smith

Les Smith does not know I consider him a friend, if he is still alive, he surely doesn't remember me at all.

Mr. Smith was the most popular teacher at Shorecrest High School for a time. I never met any student who had him as a teacher who didn't count him as the best they had ever had. Of course, I didn't like him at all. Besides giving me the heeby-jeebies, I always thought he was more interested in his personal popularity than the success of his students in their pursuits of a higher education or just living in the world.

He taught English courses, literature mainly, but also the language arts stuff freshmen girl's dreams are made of. He also cultivated the appearance of the liberal, cool teacher who really listened to his students and who was more interested in having them worship at his feet than arming them with the weapons that would help them win battles in life. He was vocally unmarried and there were rumors of his inviting students to his apartment and letting them drink beer and wine while they discussed Sarte and Camus. There were other rumors too, dealing with a couple of the girls who could only be described as his groupies.

We clashed mildly twice and violently once. Our mild clash came at the end of a semester wherein, at the beginning thereof, he had announced that he would pass the grade book around at the end of the term and allow us to put the grade there we wanted. I remember clearly that announcement and wrote down the words. He hadn't said he would allow us to write the grade we thought we earned, but only the one we wanted. I spent the entire semester doing nothing in his class or any of the assigned homework out of it. I didn't read the books he assigned, I didn't write the papers he assigned and I didn't take any of the tests he issued, other than filling my name in at the top. I did attend class occasionally but because he had established this "cool" rule that skipping was okay, I skipped as often as I could find somewhere better to be.

When the grade book came to me, I boldly wrote "A+". He asked me to see him after the class wherein he began to chastise me for my dishonesty, telling me that we both knew I didn't deserve an A or any other grade above an F. I opened my notebook and read back to him, his words. He started to explain what he had meant and I merely stated that his intentions were not reflected in his words and that, as an English teacher, he should have said what he had meant.

It was a battle I might have lost except for the fact that the rest of the faculty and staff couldn't stand the man. Some of the resentment, I am sure, was born of jealously because he was so popular, but much was a result of his methods and, of course, the rumors. When I was summoned to the Vice-Principal's office and Mr. Smith there explained what I had done, I merely read Mr. Smith's own words to the V.P. He looked up from his desk at Mr. Smith and asked him what he had expected. Smith stomped out.

That Spring, Smith was slated to direct the school musical of the year. That year it was "Camelot". He actually got permission for the boys to grow beards for the parts. I had auditioned for the part of Arthur but was rejected because I couldn't grow a beard. I launched an official protest based on the fact that there was no literary evidence that Arthur had a beard and that in the popular novel upon which the play was based "Once and Future King", the only mention of a beard was of the one worn by Merlin. I did lose this battle, although the V.P. did say I had a very valid point (I might have won, however, except for a slight disagreement I had had earlier on another issue, with that same vice principal).

The violent clash came on the heals of me calling Mr. Smith a pervert.

He had shown a film in his class in which there was a sex scene between two high school students. One young woman was embarrassed and told her parents and the bruhaha erupted. I decided to attend a meeting held by the administration for the parents who were united in their objection to the film being shown. There were several members of his fan club there including a young man who was very vocal in his defense of the teacher. After he finished his diatribe against the parents, etc. I said, loudly enough for Smith to hear, something about the man being nothing more than a pervert who like to watch naked teenage girls.

I was immediately ejected by the principal, even though I could tell he agreed with me.

I hung around outside, trying to hear the rest of the proceedings, until the meeting concluded. I was heading to my car when the kid who defended Smith approached me and called me a name. When the kid made gestures that suggested he wanted to fight, I turned and laughed in his face. Then someone slapped me in the back of the head. It was Smith and he was fuming. He was also smoking and cursing me with clenched fists. I saw the cigarette quivering and interrupted him long enough to ask him why he was trembling like a little girl... That was all it took! He lunged, swinging his arms like windmills with this head down. I stepped to the side and kicked him in the stomach. he went down trying to find his breath and I got in my car and drive away. About an hour later, the police came knocking at my door.

Fortunately, I had broken my normal habit of not telling my parents anything about my life, and had told my dad what had happened. He invited the police inside and they asked me some questions about the incident and I told them exactly what had occurred. They said there was a witness who said I attacked Smith. I name the kid (I can't remember his name now) and said I wasn't surprised he had lied. Keep in mind, I was scared to death that I was going to get hauled away but not so scared that I didn't get mad at the false accusation.

No arrests were made but the next school day I was summoned to the V.P.'s office and suspended from school pending a full investigation. This action bothered by father to the point that he put on his dress blues with all this medals, etc. and when to have a talk with the principal. He said that my suspension was fine as long as the teacher involved was also suspended. When the principal said he couldn't do that, my father said he would call an attorney that day. The principal then, quickly agreed to let me return to school until such time as it was determined I was at fault.

Within a week of that conversation, several students came forth and told about the drinking parties at Smith's apartment and some of the other "rumors" became public. Smith was fired and the sword was removed from its suspension over my head.

Now, why is Smith my friend? He is because he taught me that being "cool" is really nothing more that thinking you're better than everyone else around you.

Barney Hadden

In the interest of time, I skipped a number of decades because I want to wrap this up and get out of here.

Some who might read this know of the great affection I have for Barney but some may not know our friendship started after a battle. It was a battle that meant nothing, really, but I was impressed with his thought process and even more impressed with this scalpel-sharp wit.

We somehow kissed and made up and have become close friends. I love the man but I am most grateful for the things he has taught me.

He has taught me to be a better father by watching him with his two sons. He has taught me to be a better husband by watching his devotion to those he loves. He has taught me to be a better Mormon by making me ask questions of myself and seek divine resolutions. He has taught me humility in the way he wears his foibles for all to see. He has taught me much more than there is time to describe here.

So when any of you wonder if the forums are merely diversionary, remember that some of my closest relationships were born there and that the best friend I have, excepting Deb, is a man who goes by the name "The Danite".