The event is “brain-etched,” deeply embedded and validated by the calendar. It was May of 1962, all “heady stuff” for a one-year-out-of-college guy invited to make a commencement address.
The distance was 87 miles from Brownwood to London in Texas’ beautiful Hill Country, where I would speak at graduation exercises for four seniors at a school that would cease to exist a year later.
What did I know about speaking? Reeling after accepting Superintendent Doris Johnson’s invitation, my mind whirled with scattered thoughts of what I might say upon reaching the podium….
She and her sister, Miss Freddie Johnson, school principal, had kept things stitched together as long as they could. Doris--no doubt counting pennies to keep the school open--asked about my honorarium. I didn’t know an honorarium from a wheelbarrow, but later received a check for $20.22. It included $15 as the honorarium and three cents per mile for travel.
I know; I was overpaid. Most talks I’ve made have been without regard for remuneration, since I was typically representing institutions where I was employed--Sul Ross State University, Tarrant County Junior College, Western Texas College and Howard Payne University. It was my first monetary “thank you.”
I claimed my institutions to be “knowledge centers of the world.” what with freshmen bringing so much in and seniors taking so little out, knowledge was stacking up, I joked. This night in London--decades before test scores, edicts from ill-advised state political leaders, skimpy funding and other factors forced closure of small schools--was magical.
Unquestionably, I gleaned more from the experience than the graduates did. That was more than 6,000 “talks” ago, including some 300 where I inflicted “go-forth-and-serve” verbiage on graduates salivating at thoughts of going out to parties--right after hugs, photos and abandoning graduation garb….
Glances in every direction found expressions of pride. London--with 49 K-12 students when it closed--had a state-winning high school newspaper, The Flash, and fielded sports teams when there were enough students to do so. School personnel wore innumerable “hats.” I mean, how many superintendents do you know who coached a girls’ volleyball team and crammed eight players into a sedan for the 125-mile trek to Austin for state competition? That was before seat belts, graduate and team member Barbara Stewart wrote in her memoirs.
The Flash was printed on a machine called a “spirit duplicator,” and staff members often were stained with the “purple stuff” each time they published.
With a headline screaming “Don Newbury to Speak at Commencement,” I was flattered by the generous welcome. After all, they didn’t know me from a Fuller Brush salesman! Sadly, the school--the very soul of the community--was teetering toward closure that would lead to a withering of the community. It always does….
Would you believe, though, that now--more than 60 years later--the community again has a newspaper? The London Lobo--also printed on 8.5x11 paper--is highlighted by photos in living color.
The free monthly publication is available at London and nearby Junction store locations, featuring mostly announcements, poetry and historical accounts.
A recent ad announced a missing Black Angus bull….
Editor/publisher Brian Jeter came to town a few years back, tired of a “cubical life” as a San Antonio engineer. He’s the “go to” guy for London items, beating the drums promoting the good life there. Like the mythical Don Quixote--the windmill-tilting figure in 17th century fiction--Jeter is a “one-man band” in London, always around and always helping others.
I learned much during my long-ago London visit. I salute those who “made do” back then. Today, I wish only good things for Jeter and London residents as they continue a daunting, arms-wide-open invitation to a place where there are frequent pauses to smell the roses, stare at beautiful sunsets and make new friends.
Such can be the new norm, or is it a welcome return to an old one?….
Dr. Newbury, a longtime speaker, may be contacted at 817-447-3872 or [email protected]. At website www.speakerdoc.com, he reads his columns aloud, sometimes without stumbling