Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The State of Youth Sports!


ON CHILDREN’S SPORTS TODAY

Remember when you were a kid and you played all kinds of different sports and participated in various activities?  Fast-forward to today and that reality has changed drastically for our kids.  Someone along the way decided we needed our children to be specialists at the one sport they love the most.  For most kids, it’s the sport their parents love the most, because they are too young to know the difference.  And once it “clicks” with a kid, like the first time they hit a homerun or score a goal, then it’s game on.  They need to play all year long; fall-ball, winter, spring, summer tournaments.  It never ends.  A good friend of mine, a fellow coach, made a comment asking why we would schedule a vacation during soccer season.   My reply was that its always soccer season.  It has all gotten extremely insane. 

And yet I am one of the biggest perpetrators of this around.  Even though I openly admit its madness, I actively and willingly participate in this as a coach and now a member of the board of my children’s soccer league.  I love coaching.  It is my hobby.  Some guys golf.  I coach soccer.   Which brings me to my present dilemma.  The politics of youth sports, namely soccer, is a wild and precarious beast.   And it’s all based on a long con being pulled on suburban soccer moms and dads the country over.  It’s called “club ball” and it’s a pack of lies being sold to people to get their money.  It promises college scholarships and glory.   But what’s even worse is that the high schools not only promote this notion of if they didn’t grow up playing club ball then they’ll never make the high school team, they even refuse to consider talented athletes who don’t adhere to the model.   It’s this fear that’s put into the heart of parents that lingers over our wallets like a vulture on a limb. And even though I know it’s all b.s., I also know that its how it is.  I can’t change it.  I can’t fight against it.  But my afore mentioned good friend, my mentor of soccer coaching, and yes that’s a thing, even though it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve learned a lot about coaching from him and I use his methods when I coach my other teams, etc, but this friend of mine is trying to fight against it and I admire his efforts for it.  He’s right to do it.   His rebellion puts me in a perilous position.   On one hand, his rebellion thus far has been successful and promises to be even more so.  We put together a “select” team of girls my daughters’ age about two and a half years ago.   We trained them ourselves and kept the costs down, considerably compared to club fees.  In the winter we had a chance to compete against some of the top clubs around our area and we not only competed at their level we excelled and beat most of them by large margins.   We beat the number one team (one of the top teams in the state).  We got a lot of notice and our team has a strong reputation now in our area.  We were the Rocky of club soccer.  I love the underdog and it was amazing to see the faces of those people paying thousands of dollars for a product inferior to what we were offering for a few hundred bucks at the end of it all.  People stuck around to see what we would do.  They watched us beat some serious clubs.   Now they’ve started to bring their daughters to our team.  My friend has the potential to build a team even stronger and bigger than the winter team that was so successful.  It’s important to note that his daughter is one of the best players on the team.  She’s very athletic and aggressive and has a powerful shot that scores a lot of goals for us.  It’s also important to note that my daughters are not quite up to that level.   They are good players but they don’t have that killer instinct that makes a great athlete.   Right now, one of my daughter is more into it that the other.  But I always ask them if they still want to play and they always say yes.  They both still love to play and I’m of the belief that soccer is one of the best sports for kids to play for health reasons.  I like the fact that they have to run around all the time.   But on the select team, the one daughter that’s not into it as much, doesn’t play as much as the other one, but both are on the cusp of the middle ground as far as talent on the team goes.  Some of that comes down to personality as much as anything.   On this team, I am the assistant coach, so I have no say on who sits out.   Which is how it should be.  When I’m the head coach of my son’s team, I make those decisions.   The head coach, my friend in question, the rebel leader, has a very high standard for the girls.  Which is something I like about it.  He pushes them all to excel, and that’s something I think we’ve lost sight of in our modern society.  His daughter can and usually does live up to those standards, where my daughter, the one that’s not as competitive or into as the other, often falls short of his standards.  I get that.  When we were kids there was a thing called a bench-warmer.  And the problem is, she’s not that bad at soccer, she’s better than most girls around, but on this team, of very gifted players, she’s not quite there.   This is an A level team while, right now, she plays at a B or C level.     So it can be awkward at times when she doesn’t get as much playing time and when she does go in the pressure is so much on her and her personality isn’t full of confidence anyway and so she plays tense and it comes across as timid and he pulls her right back out.  It breaks my heart.  Keep in mind, this is competitive soccer, not some average rec team playing for fun and not keeping score.  So I get that he wants to win and that he’s going to play the people who play the best.   I do the same thing on my boys team.  I have seen her trying to improve but sometimes I wonder if it’s too late.  But I don’t want for her to give it up yet.  She likes it and its good for her to push herself at something.  Coach pushes her during practice and I like that.   So here lies part one of my dilemma.   As mentioned before Coach is adding a bunch of new older players to the roster for next year.  He wants his daughter and his Rocky team to play “up” an age level.   I get that. That is very good for his daughter.  Not so good for my daughters, especially the one that’s not so into it.  It is good for her during practices to play up, but not during the games.   So she’s being trained very well.  But my wife is very concerned that she’ll never see the field.  Now, I’m a believer that if you think you’re good at something, you’ll be more likely to try harder at it than if you don’t think you’re good.   So sitting the bench all season isn’t going to make her love soccer or try harder at it.  That’s not her personality.  I wish it were.  I wish she was Rudy and would train and work on it in the off times and try to earn her spot on the team.  But like I said, she’s not that into it.   I wonder though, that if she thought she was good at it, would she try harder?   I know one thing, she has a better shot at choice B as opposed to choice A.  

Another aspect of my dilemma is my boy’s team.  I tried to reproduce the Rebel team with my son’s age group.  I put together a group of boys who all stood out on their rec teams.  I took these All-Stars and put them together at the end of fall and I thought I had a super team.   But when we went into the winter season against club teams, we got our butts handed to us.  Although in fairness, we improved toward the end of the season.  But I found that the parents didn’t gel like they did on the girls’ team and some of my parents were unruly and judgmental.  I even received reverse racism in that one parent went over my head and asked if his son could play for a coach who spoke Spanish.  The white coach doesn’t understand soccer like a Mexican does.  I wasn’t offended by this; I found it funny, but also I had a sense of good riddance toward that parent.  He was a nightmare to deal with, walking up and down the sidelines yelling at his kid in Spanish, micromanaging every move the kid made.  That’s for another story.  My point is, it wasn’t the wonderful experience I had with the girls’ team and the cool parents and fun tournaments.  Another problem again comes back to personality.  I found coaching my own son was a challenge of personality and wills.  He wouldn’t act the way he sometimes acts with another coach, refusing to do things, whining about a certain drill he doesn’t like.  We left many practices with him being grounded from something or another.  Of my three kids, however, my son has the most drive and love of the game.  He understands it better than his sisters ever did and he plays at a higher level than they did, especially at his age.  He’s three years younger than them.   He enjoys watching it on TV.   He loves to go to the Chicago Fire games and wear his foam finger and yell and cheer.   Soccer is one of our bonds. 

Now to back to the long con.  I am still aware that in this society, as it stands, if a child doesn’t play for a club, then they won’t play in high school.   Rebel teams aside.  It is inevitable that we will have to take them to one of these expensive clubs sooner or later.  The fear of later being too late, lingers.   Is it too late for my daughter who isn’t as into it?  One of the positive things a club like the Chicago Fire offers is, they have different level teams for kids to play on that meets their abilities.   So if she gets put on a team that’s C level, then maybe she would have more playing time and therefore grow more confident.  But that all depends on the coach.   It is unknown.  I wish I knew the future but unfortunately, right now, I don’t.   My son and wife really want him to play for the Chicago Fire.  He loves the idea that it’s the same club as the profession team he so loves to root for.   One of the problems with the Rebel club system is that we have to find games to play when and where we can.  Coach doesn’t want to enter into the regular club league yet.   That’s getting into the expensive side of things.  He thinks we’ll get more games out of just taking them to tournaments.   He’s right.  But my wife likes to have a set schedule.  She likes to know what’s happening way in advance.  The Rebel club can’t guarantee this regularity, because we are always looking for tournaments to enter, and in the meantime looking to pick up friendly games with various people when we can.   We might not know that we have a game in two weeks until the week of.

Peel the onion further to reveal:  The Rebel club is growing.  We’ve added several teams this spring to be carried over into the fall.  Something is building here.  I am a part of that.  I am a key member of the board who advocates turning the rec program into something more resembling a club.  Even though I know in the long run it is a futile effort and that we will not achieve club status and recognition by high school standards and it will have been in vain.  Unless we succeed!  And there aren’t that many obstacles standing now in our way of turning it into a club.  Coach has been handed the keys to the castle and is taking over as Commissioner of the rec program.   Which means that there is no one standing in his way and he can take this program to the next level.   It’s exciting and fun to be part of.  Like I said before, I love coaching.  But it’s not about me; it’s about my kids and what’s best for them.   I am losing a few boys from my select team, but in the fall I will be gaining several older boys and we will be playing “up” an age level.  This is good for my son.   Unlike my daughters who might not be able to play up, my son can and will come out of a season with older boys that much stronger.   But on the other hand there’s that personality clash between my son and I, where he’d grow more from another coach, in my opinion.  But on the other hand, it is a bonding experience for us.  We spend that time together.   My wife really wants to let him try playing for the Chicago Fire club.  It’s a bigger more established and proven institution in her mind.   Plus there’s that set schedule, where you can prioritize life around it, instead of waiting to make plans until we know when the games are going to be.  She likes to make plans well in advance.  So I find myself between a rock and a hard place.  I don’t want to be the parent that breaks up the Rebel girl’s team, not after all they’ve been through together.  They love each other, those girls, and they have real pride in that team.  Plus, Coach and I are very good friends, and we work very well together.   I don’t want to walk away from a program that I helped establish and let down those people who have joined in on building it.   There are several people coming back to our anti-club from club teams because they believe in what we’re trying to do.   The rebellion is growing. 

I thought I had a solution.  I proposed that I send my son to the Fire Club and I stay on as coach of the Select boys Rebel club team.  We keep the girls team together for one more season.  But Coach suggested that would not look good to the parents that are sticking with our model that I don’t believe in the model, or the idea that an anti-club can exist.    It would be kind of weird to coach a team without having my son on it.   I get that.   Coach has been working hard to keep me involved in the new anti-club and I’m flattered that he thinks I’m such a good coach or whatever that he needs my help to keep his rebellion going.   So it’s basically down to if I want to continue to coach I need to keep my son involved.   One compromise is that the Fire program doesn’t yet know where they’ll send my son to play.  It’s down to two possibilities.   A town fifteen minutes away is possibility number one and number two is a town thirty minutes or more away.  My wife and I agree that number two won’t work for us.   I spoke with a representative for the Fire and told him that if that’s where they try to send my son to play that we won’t be participating in the program.  So there’s my out for club ball this year.   Usually when presented with a choice, there’s one that’s better than the other.  Here I can see both sides equally.   I’m fine with either outcome.   On one hand, I’ll feel like I’ll be letting some people down.  On the other, coaching soccer and running a league comes with a lot of headaches and stress that I don’t really want or need.   So if he goes with the Fire I won’t have to deal with as much stuff.  It will be someone else’s problem. 

Here’s where I get a little spiritual or whatever.  I grew up as a Christian.  One aspect of Christianity is that when presented with a dilemma it is always best to leave it in God’s hands.   As corny as that might sound to some people, I see it as the universe helps us decide things.   That’s a passive way of going through life, sure, but I do want to believe that things happen for a reason.  Though, I have friends who will adamantly say that is NOT true.  The curse of my mind is that I can see all sides of things from many perspectives.   It makes my beliefs malleable and constantly in flux.    So I decided to wait and see where they send my son, to make my final decision.   If they say he’s supposed to play in the town thirty minutes away, then the universe decided I should stay and coach and help build the anti-club for another year at least.   The problem is, Coach wants an answer sooner, rather than later, and the Fire isn’t letting us know.   So I may be forced to decide before the universe weighs in.  But I guess that’s still the universe deciding?  Let’s not get weird here.   But why am I developing an ulcer over all of this? It’s just little kids playing soccer.  

If you’ve read this to its conclusion and have advice for a man standing on a fence looking at two pastures, one new and ripe with possibilities and the other established and proven, but also expensive and a scam and part of the order of things, of which I always like to rebel against, as is my nature, please feel free to comment.  I could use different takes on this.   If anything its’ a slice of reality that parents deal with now days with youth sports.   

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

On Us and Them


I, like so many people, was at one point fascinated by the Tudors and Henry XIII’s exploits with his wives and his tumultuous relationship with Christianity, particularly the Vatican.  The ripple effect the impassioned decisions made by King Henry XIII set families against themselves for generations to come.    The Reformation and the Counter-Reformation split one of the world’s largest religions into two competing branches.  I like that imagery.  It is very important to understand why the world is the way it is.  The history of religion, namely Christianity, is something everyone who calls it their faith should understand and put into context.  I realize this is my opinion, but this is a blog entry, right?  I believe faith is a wonderful thing to have.  But I also think blind faith is dangerous.  People with blind faith are easily manipulated and even easier sent in the wrong direction.  Informed faith, with the understanding that most things will never be understood, but it’s okay to be open to new information as it comes, is much more beneficial to society.
            Why do people become so offended when someone disagrees with them?  What is it about the human condition that causes a person to become suspicious and affronted by anyone who believes differently?  What are they so afraid of?    I realize that this doesn’t apply to everyone, but it explains the majority.    People kill each other over differences of opinion regarding their heart-felt beliefs.  They always have.  It makes me wonder if they always will?  I would hope not.   I’m holding on to the notion that the world is about to undergo another major transformation.   My fear would be that, as mentioned before, it usually takes a catastrophic event to upset the status quo enough for change to happen.  It’s not something that keeps me up at night or anything, but it’s always just sort of there in the background.   I watch the news looking for it from time to time.   I realize the world is about to outgrow itself.  Earth can’t sustain this many people.  But enough fear mongering.  I can’t worry about things I can’t control.  It’s a waste of energy.   Just some thoughts for today.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

In honor of my hero - Boots Hodge


ON FREEMAN “BOOTS” HODGE

Boots was born either June 1st or June 2nd.  The man with two birthdays.  His mother Alice said it was the first.  The state said otherwise.  His mother wasn’t the kind of woman one wanted to argue with.   Neither was his father.  Flavius Hodge carried a gun on his hip and rode a horse for transportation.  His grandmother was supposedly a Choctaw princess, his grandfather, according to legend, was an outlaw on the run in the Oklahoma territory.  These are only pieces of the early legend of Freeman “Boots” Hodge.  In truth, very little was known about his grandparents on his father’s side.  His father, Flavius was a half-breed who didn’t own a car until the 1950s.  Evidently he wasn’t the kind of man you messed with.

Boots came from a big family.  There were seven kids.  They, like many families in those days, called each other nicknames that stuck through the rest of their lives.  His older sister’s name was Gal.  Boots had a brother named Buster, who looked almost identical to him after they’d both lost their hair and wore horn-rimmed glasses.  We thought we had two Grandpa Boots the first time we saw him.  “Two Grandpa’s was like having two Santa Clauses!”  He had another brother named Pee-Wee and one named Buddy.  Tobe and Pete didn’t get as colorful nicknames but they were spoken about fondly by the rest of the family.   They lived in New Mexico and western Texas during the 1920s.  This was the dustbowl.   The hard times that followed him around for his entire childhood began in those wild, untamed, arid climes.  He grew up tough and quickly.  He grew to have grit.  He was put to work by the time he could mount a horse, which was about around the time he could walk.   They scraped and busted their tails from sun up to sun down and still barely had a pot to piss in.  He’d work all day only to find out the fella he’d labored for didn’t have a dollar to give him.  He’d sometimes have to settle for food or practical items as forms of trade.  Boots learned early on how to be resourceful.    He also learned that family, a strong one, could survive anything.

The event that would end the challenging chapter of his childhood would be World War Two.   He enlisted and was sent to the South Pacific, the Solomon Islands, Guadalcanal to be more specific.  Four of his brothers fought overseas during the war.  His family had no idea where those boys were for three to four years.  Boots snuck a reference to the Bible and Solomon into one of his letters and it made it past the censors.   Alice Hodge had dark hair when Boots left in 1942 and white when he got back in 1945.  Boots never once talked about the war.  He never watched a single war movie.  He had nightmares so violent and horrific that he rarely slept through the night without a violent episode.    He remarked later that he was surprised and grateful his wife Madie put up with him.   Madie was equally special in her temperament as he was and they made the perfect couple.  She was patient and kind hearted to the ninth degree.  Snippets gathered from visiting war buddies over the years began to imply that Boots saw and experienced the worst of the seven hells.   All he’d say about it was, “You can have a unit of men march and fight through the jungle and when they come out the other side you’ll have as many different versions of what happened as there are men left to tell about it.”  He lost a lot of buddies in those jungles.   It is unclear but he once insinuated that he’d been a sniper of sorts perched atop a jungle tree and taken out many a “Jap”.  It was made to me in reference of his plan to shoot a dog that was harassing his cattle.  He could put an eye out from some extraordinary distance was the initial hint, and something along the lines of that’s what he did over there from a treetop.   One story he did relay openly to me on one of my magical Sunday visits after his wife passed and I was in college, goes thusly:  He was unloading a ship and was bringing a load to shore when the ship was struck by a torpedo and blown to pieces right before his eyes.  He’d missed it by minutes.  Another time he ducked to tie a bootstrap and a shell flew right over his back.  His unit was lost and he wondered around the theater for a while, joining with different units along the way.  He drove a bulldozer for one unit and may or may not have had a pet monkey. 

The years that followed the war were difficult ones for him and his otherwise stoic resolve.  He did what he always did and sucked it up and moved through it.  The first great step forward was meeting the true love of his life, Madie Hudson in Whitharral Texas.   After their first encounter she went home and told her sister she’d met the man she was going to marry.  He’d found his salvation.

He worked for a pipeline in east Texas when his first son Tom was born.  Sue followed a couple of years later.   Opportunity came for him to start over in Missouri and so he moved his young family north and built from scratch a new life.  They lived in tiny shacks or at one point a barn.   He worked all the time and saved his money.   When Madie’s family came to visit they asked her what she was doing living in a barn?  But Boots promised her that if she’d stick it out he’d build her a house on some nice land.  It is unclear if he had his entire vision for his future then or if it came to him over time, but he eked out a living and finally was able to purchase a large plot of land that butted up to the Oklahoma boarder.  During the war the government had mined the larger older trees and what was left was underbrush and saplings.   There was a tiny two-room shack with an outhouse surrounded by budding forest upon rocky ground.  Again his family and hers wondered if he’d lost his mind.  What could he do with that forsaken place?  He worked construction by day and built Madie her house by night.   It took him awhile but he built that house practically by himself.  Tom, who was at the time ten years old and ready for serious labor, helped him.  Madie also worked her fingers to the bone to make that vision come true.  Sometimes a curious neighbor (by neighbor I mean a person who lived two miles away) would stop by and help out.  People were like that then.  Plus Boots, an imposing cowboy right out of the movies with his homespun philosophy and strong commonsense approach, made a good first impression that lasted a lifetime.   People automatically respected Boots.  While he was working construction all those years he’d stick around when the plumber would show up and he’d watch him work and ask him questions.  He did this with all the contractors until finally by the time he built his own house he knew how to do it all himself.   For a man with an eighth grade education he was a brilliant engineer.  He could envision something in his mind and make it into reality.  He never understood why no one in his family inherited that ability.   If he set his mind to something consider it done, no matter how ambitious.

When the house was completed Boots built a chicken coup and a milk barn.  He bought some chickens and a milk cow and set about making his property self-sufficient.   He plowed a garden and Madie worked it during the summers.  He called it his garden of life.  He explained how the garden of life sustains us.  Perhaps it was his Choctaw blood but he was a spiritual fellow even when thinking about something as mundane as a garden.  He’d tell Tom how the garden of life needed to have vegetables and things to sustain us but it also needed a watermelon.   And it was also very important to keep the weeds out of your garden.  He meant figuratively and literally.  He also planted roses.   The garden of life needed roses, too.   Tom spent more time with him than almost anybody and was the recipient of much of Boot’s profound wisdom.   They’d be working beside one another, usually for long distances of silence, when all of sudden Boots would straighten up and look off into the distant trees.  He’d sigh and say, “Son…”  And Tom would stop and look up at him.   “Don’t pick other people’s scabs.”  Tom would nod and they’d both go back to work.  Tom would work out what he meant by that and come away with the truth beneath the odd comment.   Everyone has scabs in their life, leave them alone and let them heal.  One of Tom’s many jobs was to herd the cattle up to the barn.  Boots would warn him not to stand behind those cows.  “They’ll kick the devil out of you.”  But sure enough, one day Tom was in a hurry and one kicked him square in the gut.  It knocked him to the ground where he writhed in pain, unable to catch his breath.  Boots walked past him and with his southern drawl said, “Well, I told ya not to get behind ‘em cows.”  Life was a lesson.   Tom didn’t have a curfew in high school.  If he came home late Boots would find something important for them to do at four in the morning.  Do what you want, but be ready to live with the consequences, was his philosophy.   He’d later turn those lessons into personal cards that he would send his children and grandchildren in the mail.   He sent this to his daughter Patty, my mother, when she was an adult with four kids.

“Good Judgment comes from experience, a lot of that comes from bad judgments.  Whenever you see darkness there is an extraordinary opportunity for the light to burn brighter. -Good luck with your back – Dad.”

Boots worked construction and his business partner was an old cowboy from Texas who’d made a lot of money in oil.  His name was Mr. Smith.  One of Boot’s favorite stories to tell was about this colorful man.  Mr. Smith drove an old beat-up pickup truck and wore overalls, looking like a dusty old farmer. The guy from the bank was there and Mr. Smith pulled up in his old truck and looking like he just milked a cow and the banker tried to warn Boots about going into business with that guy.  Boots didn’t say anything but, “Oh-kay,” and the banker told him he’d look into Mr. Smith for him to make sure he wasn’t making a mistake. Boots smiled and let him do the research needed to explain Mr. Smith’s economic status.   The banker came driving up, he jumped out and said, “You definitely should go into business with this guy.  You have any idea how much he’s worth?” Boots just smiled.  He did not believe in putting on heirs.  It was the sign of a weak man to try to impress others with his wealth or style.  “You can send a fool to college but all you’ll get is an educated fool.”

He wore the same denim shirt for as long as I could recall.  I later found out he had several denim shirts that all looked alike.  Cowboys boots, faded blue jeans, denim shirt with snap buttons because he’d cut his thumb off when he was an apprentice in Texas, large white, or slightly yellowed cowboy hat, this was his uniform.

The thumb story is a famous one in the legend of Boots Hodge.  He sliced it off when he was an apprentice in Texas.   The story goes that he sliced it off, picked up the severed piece, drove himself to the hospital but they couldn’t sow it back on and so he stood there calmly, holding the flap of skin against his hand while they stitched him up.   His pain tolerance is a large part of his legend.  He never took pain pills no matter how severe the injury.  It wasn’t that he had dulled nerve endings.  His tolerance came from a stubbornness of the mind, a mental toughness that refused to let pain interfere with his day.  He was so disciplined in everything he did.   He believed in putting off or foregoing gratification for what needed to be done.  He was up at four o’clock every morning and went about working his property all day long with a skip in his step, because he was doing what he loved. 

Eventually Boots grew weary of putting up with the fickle mind of housewives changing their minds with the wind and so he brought home four piglets and from there went into the hog business.  It was here his brilliance and ingenuity would shine.  Tom recalls the first time one of the pigs was giving birth, how it couldn’t handle the pain and chased its rear end around in circles until finally giving birth and killing the baby.   Boots fattened that pig up and sold her for her meat and then favored the pigs who gave birth easily and from there he went from four pigs to four thousand.  He revolutionized the pig farming industry.   He designed his operation in such a clever way so that it would only take Tom and Boots to work the entire thing.   Tom shoveled a lot of hog manure and feed in his young life.  Boots worked out a system for everything; from how the barns where constructed to the alleyways and shoots.  He realized that one of the biggest problems facing pig mortality was newborns being rolled onto by the mothers.  So he designed a trap door in the birthing cages that opened for the baby to fall through into some straw under a heating lamp.   So in the spring when most farmers were bringing three to four new pigs to the market, Boots brought a dozen or more.   He built a cage with two decks for his truck to drive them all to market.   He caught the notice of many people and a few college professors of agriculture came to see the operation and to study it.  He made them change clothes before they could go out there.  He didn’t want them getting his pigs sick.

While they worked extremely hard, Boots took his family on at least one vacation every year.   They’d go to Colorado and Wyoming.   He’d have his nephews, who lived up the road, look after the farm.     All the while his hog business continued to expand.  He built what would later feel like an entire town on his property with various sized barns and outbuildings.  He had it all organized with different sections for pigs recovering from giving birth, to areas for fattening them up, to weaning them.  After he retired from the business, his abandoned pig town turned into a fantasyland for his grandchildren.  It fueled my early imagination and we loved to have all sorts of fantastical adventures out there.  It was a magical place to grow up. For his children they had hundred of acres to ride their horses.  They explored the vast forest.  Boots would say, if you get lost try to find a fence and follow it home.  There was a spring fed pond with an enormous weeping willow tree that they’d swim in on hot summer days. 

When Tom was in high school he came to his dad, seated in his favorite recliner, in the place it would remain for sixty years.  Boots was reading the evening paper and Tom told him he’d like to try football.  Boots didn’t say much, maybe grumbled from behind the paper, peaked over the top and then went back to it.   Tom, feeling a bit rejected, shrugged and left the room.   The next day, when Tom returned from school, Boots handed him a pair of cleats.   He didn’t say anything else.   So Tom went on to try out for the team and he had his butt handed to him by an older boy.  He got pounded all week and began to hate the idea of playing football.   He was later embarrassed to admit that he seriously thought about quitting.  But there were those damned cleats.   Those cleats weren’t in the budget.  Boots had stretched to get them.  He was just starting out in his new pig farming business and things were tight.  Tom stuck it out and eventually, after college, became the football coach in Seneca.  He was by far the most successful coach in the history of that school and in fact one of the top in the entire state of Missouri.  He’s in the Missouri sports hall of fame for coaching.   The stadium in Seneca is named, Tom Hodge Stadium.  In a small southern town, high school football is the NFL.  Boots and his wife Madie collected all the articles written about their son.   They were both extremely proud of him. 

Boots would send Tom, then in high school or when he’d come back for summer break in college, to markets to buy up the runts and they’d bring them back and Boots would shoot them with boosters and fatten them up.  He was always thinking of new ways to improve his operation.    He was at a trade show many years later and saw his invention being demonstrated.  He recognized the guy who claimed the patent as one of the professors who’d visited.  The guy shrugged apologetically, and most likely frightened for his life, but Boots shrugged it off.  The guy said, “I looked and you didn’t have a patent on it, so…”  Boots had made plenty of money off of his invention, he didn’t need the glory for it.  He wasn’t one to hold a grudge.  He’d say, “Don’t waste your time or your money feeding your ego.”

He’d say, “The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.”  Or “The true measure of a man is how he handles a crisis.”

He was in the hog business for twenty years before debilitating headaches bothered him so much he decided to look into it.  He’d had skin cancer and probably wondered if the constant headaches weren’t something serious.  He never told Madie or his kids when he went to see his doctor but whenever he came back he explained that he was allergic to the pigs’ dander and would be selling them off.   He was going out of the hog business.  It must have been a difficult decision to make.  But Boots sucked it up and made it.  The headaches must have been horrendous for his pain tolerance.   Perhaps they were making him cranky?   He had grandkids by this point.   He doted on them.   He stopped cursing after I began to repeat everything he’d say.  He also stopped drinking.  He was never a hard drinker but he’d have a beer each night; sometimes Jack Daniels.  He gave it up to set an example to his grandchildren.

He often remarked how the ghosts of his war buddies would dance around his bed at night asking what went wrong with the country they died for.  In his mind his generation spoiled their children, because they didn’t want them to have the hard life they’d had, but it made them soft and weak and in turn they produced children even more spoiled and soft.   He foresaw America’s decline from the world’s greatest country to the limp bureaucratic nightmare it is today.  He didn’t think highly of politicians and the government.  He worried about one world government.  He said someday that’ll happen and we’ll all be in trouble.

His retirement plan was based on an idea he’d had perhaps all along; to section off his land into plots and to lease it to people with bad credit or who weren’t able to get loans.   When they would default he’d take the land back, but if they could pay it off then it was theirs.  Few of them did.   His plan is now helping his children in their retirements.  One of his big philosophies was about need versus want.  We only need a few things to sustain us.   The rest is what we want.  He’d say, “No luxury should be purchased with debt. When people tell you they need something, usually they’re confused about what that means.” 

To say a few words for a man who put little stock in words seems ironic.  He said, “No one can talk for more than five minutes without exposing the extent of his ignorance.”  He was a man of action.  He didn’t say I love you.  He showed it.  He wore the toughest exterior of any man I’ve ever known, but beneath that cowboy hat there beat a warm and kind heart.  That man loved his family.   “Kodak would go out of business if it weren’t for our family,” he’d say pointing with his half thumb at all the pictures on his walls.   As he got on in years, he’d say it every time you saw him.  

When his wife got sick he’d carry her up the stairs each night for bed and carry her down again in the morning.  When she was out of it towards the end, he picked her up one afternoon and she looked up at him with love drunk, teenager-eyes, all doughy and she said, “Wanna dance, cowboy?”  And he let her stand on his feet and they swayed back and forth for a moment and then he scooped her up and carried her up those stairs and sat with her until she fell asleep.   A large piece of him died when she did.  But he was too sturdy to show it and he bit his lip and his enormous adam’s apple would quiver and he mustered on.  That was a special time for him and me.  I was living in Joplin, going to school, and every Friday Aunt Sue would take my laundry back to their house, she lived with him, and I’d swing by every Sunday and pick it up and we’d have lunch and talk for an hour or more and then I’d head on down to Neosho to see my parents.  We did this every weekend for a year.  We grew very close.  He’d tell the stories he loved the most.   They usually had multiple meanings and were full of life lessons. 

Boots truly was a living legend, by definition.  He earned the respect of every man he’d encountered.  Boots Hodge.  He was an inspiration, a guide, a cowboy guru.  He was the cowboy John Wayne was pretending to be.   But at the end of the day John Wayne was just Marion Morrison and Grandpa was still Boots Hodge.

“In the battle between the stone and the stream the stream always wins because it’s persistent.” He’d write these nuggets of wisdom in his famous cards.  I don’t know that he came up with all of those himself, if he’d picked them up along the way or what, but he knew the importance of seeing the world in those types of terms.

Here’s a poem they found in this personal things. 

My Self
By Freeman “Boots” Hodge

I have to live with my self, and so
I want to be fit for myself to know,

I want to be able as days go by
Always to look myself straight in the eye,

I don’t want to stand with the setting sun
And hate myself for the things I’ve done

I don’t want to keep on a closet shelf
A lot of secrets about myself,

And Fool myself as I come and go
Into thinking that nobody else will know

The kind of man I really am
I don’t want to dress myself up in Sham

I want to go out with my head erect
I want to deserve all men’s respect

But here in this struggle for fame and pelf
I want to be able to like myself.

I don’t want to think as I come and go
That I’m bluster and bluff and empty show

I never can hide myself from me
I see what others may never see

I know what others may never know
I never can fool myself-and so
Whatever Happens I want to be
Self Respecting and conscience free

Boots


He was a man of extreme reason and intuition.  He lived in a world of logic.  If it didn’t make sense to him, then by God he wouldn’t do it.   And if it was broken, then by God he could fix it.    He did things HIS way.  He said to be happy; you need to be your own boss.  He said, don’t follow the crowd, go your own way.  Find your own path.  He taught us to think for ourselves.   Institutions were generally bad ideas.   The government had no right to tell us what to do.   He wouldn’t wear his seatbelt in the hopes of being pulled over just so he could explain to the cop what he thought about that particular communist law.   He’d say, “I think the seatbelt is the best invention since birth control, but the government has no right to tell a man, who fought for his country, that he HAS to wear it.” 

 He taught us the difference between religion and spirituality.  He didn’t need to go to church every Sunday.  In fact he refused.  He hated preachers.  All but one, a man named Griff, who wasn’t anything like any other preacher we’d ever known.  He was a special case and he earned the respect of Boots as he sat with Madie as she died. 
He was at Boot’s funeral and someone asked Griff if Boots had asked him a lot of tough questions during those times.  “No,” said Griff, “He pretty much just told me stuff.”  

Boots found God sitting on a stump at sunrise on his back forty watching a deer graze in the distance.  The irony to me was that people were always trying to “save” him.   If you were at his funeral and saw the amount of love and adoration being given to that great man, then maybe those folks would have all done better to follow his example.  Who needed to save who?  Was he perfect?  Of course not.  No one is.  Like everyone he was flawed, but that’s what made him who he was.  But damn if he wasn’t a very good human to live up to.  

He was an idol, a legend, a hero to his family and that extended beyond blood.  Boots was very active in the Warrens Branch Community, serving many years on the school board.  He was one of the original founders and leaders of ‘Busy Beavers’ 4-H Club.  He’d host mini rodeos on his land called shodoes. He’d plow the ground to make it softer and the kids would ride calves and horses.  He coached Tom’s baseball team and when they won first place he made it clear he didn’t want his name on that trophy.  It wasn’t about him.  He was a selfless man to the core.

We found the drafts for a few of the cards he’d sent to everyone and I’d like to include this here for posterity.  The following are the words of Boots Hodge to his family.

“Boots-isms”

Tom & Sue
“A hundred years from now, it won’t matter what my bank account was.  The sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove.  But the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child.”

Tom & Merlene
“The most certain sign of wisdom is to make your home a refuge from the rest of the world.”

Sue
“It is loving and giving that make life worth living.
And giving that love to children can make a difference in their life forever.  You can do a great job at that.”
- Have a good day  -Dad

Patty
“Good Judgment comes from experience, a lot of that comes from bad judgments.  Whenever you see darkness there is an extraordinary opportunity for the light to burn brighter. “
-Good luck with your back – Dad

“When you come to the end of your rope tie a knot and hang on.  Everyone gets the same 24 hours in a day, the difference is how you use it.”

Bobbie, Patty & Tera
“Just be yourself and never look back and don’t take life or death too seriously.  Making it in life is kinda like busting bronc’s.  Your going to get thrown a lot, the secret is getting back on.”
-Just an old Cowboys way of looking at it. Grandpa Boots

Pam
“By changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.  Never take the advice of someone who has not had that kind of trouble.”
-I think you have proven that, just be your own person you can’t please everyone. 

“The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.”

Merlene
“Anyone who says raising kids is not the most difficult job in the world is not doing it right.  Memories are your most valuable possessions.”

Travis
“There is not half the pleasure in processing an object as in the effort to attain it.
Let go of the what-If, don’t put your life on hold. 
Trust your hopes not your fears.
Optimism is a gift
The most certain sign of wisdom is a positive outlook.”

Marcy
“Grab happiness in the passing moments of life and never look back.”

“Never feel lonely in the kitchen, food is very friendly.”

“Treat your kids like you wanted your parents to treat you”

Mark
“Happiness is a byproduct of an effort to make someone else happy.  The most wasted days are the days when we have not laughed.  A happy marriage puts the marriage before the children. Two people loving equally is a rare occurrence.”

Tera
“You’ve got to be original, because if you are like someone else what do they need you for?”

Scott W.
“No matter what kind of backgrounds two men are from, if you go ‘Hey man, women are crazy’ you got a friend”

Josh and Amy
“Love begins in the eyes and quickly goes to the heart, and only sometimes ends up in the brain.” – Boots

Eric
“The greatest conflicts are not between two people but between one person and himself.”

Ryan
“Not everything can be made sense of

Your Eyes are the windows of your soul.

We are sometimes taken into troubled waters not to drown, but to be cleansed. 

Use your memory to make your life more enjoyable. 

Look back at your ancestors for strength; carry a can-do attitude with you. 

Banish the word ‘cannot’ from your vocabulary; every person is born with a talent. 

A good idea is usually risky,

The door to success is always marked ‘Push’

Contentment is worth more than Riches.”

Lacy
“Be afraid only of standing still.  Grab happiness in the passing moments of life.  We are sometimes taken into troubled waters, but not to drown but to learn how to swim.  Sometimes things that hurt-teach skill and confidence are an unconquerable force.  Every person is born with a talent, use it.”

“Don’t be discouraged by your mistakes.  Accept the good and run with it.  Opportunity sometimes knocks very softly.  Surround yourself with things that make you smile.”

Ross
“We are all treasure chests of talents.  In Sights and remarkable gifts we are judged by what we finish, not on what we start.  The secret of success is doing something you love.”

Tayler
“Never grumble, it makes you as welcome as a snake at a picnic.  Its best to keep your troubles pretty much to yourself cause half the people you tell them to won’t give a damn, and the other half will be glad to hear you have them.”

“Follow your hearts’ desire and it will lead you to great adventures.  For when you follow your heart life becomes joyful.”


Britnie
“You must do crazy things once in awhile to keep from going nuts.  Just don’t do anything that conflicts with common sense.  The best advice is don’t give it.”

Hudson
“Hey a true friend will tell you when your hats on backwards, just how did you get so stupid, well maybe it’s the company I keep.”

Hayden
“Its better to have one good friend than many acquaintances.  The most certain sign of wisdom is a positive outlook of a person is defined by what he makes of himself during his lifetime.”

Charlie
“Most folks are like a bob-wire fence.  They have their good points.  Nobody ever drowns himself in his own sweat.  Never joke with mules or cooks as they have no sense of humor.”

More….

“Today you don’t have to lift a finger, you are royalty, the hero of the day.  You don’t know about war, poverty or disease, you only know love, enjoy the moment.”
-Grandpa Boots

“If you have a loving family its amazing what you can do without.”

“Don’t pet a porcupine unless you are looking for trouble.  Life is an emotional journey.”

“No luxury should be purchased with debt”

“Never sacrifice your principles to please anyone”

“Aim at fulfilling whatever talents you have inherited.”

“Having an education is different than having plain ol’ horse sense.”

“You can ruin the present by worrying about the future”
“A stumble may prevent a fall.  Don’t put your life on hold”

“Trust your hopes not your fears”

“Just be yourself and never look back, and don’t take life or death too seriously.  Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none, your eyes are the windows to your soul.”

“Knowledge is a precious treasure that cannot be given away nor stolen.”

“After you climb to the top of the wall don’t kick over the ladder”

“Good fortune is usually the result of wisdom and hard work, not luck.”

“Optimism is a gift”

“There is no security on this earth only opportunity”

“Its no disgrace to fall down, the disgrace is not getting up and going ahead.”

“The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up”

“An imagination can make reality more joy able”

“Its easier to accept love than to give it”

“Wisdom is sometimes disguised as foolishness”

“Don’t waste your time or your money feeding your ego”

“Just remember don’t pursue happiness, create it.”

“Kids need more hugs than they need things.”

“The greater the obstacles the more glory in over coming it.”
“You can never go wrong when you follow your dreams.”

“Never play leap frog with the unicorn”

“Never pet a porcupine.

If you carry yourself like a beauty people will think of you as one.”

“You can never step in the same river twice you can just about always stand more than you think you can.”

“No one can talk for more than five minutes without exposing the extent of his ignorance.”

“Watch what happens to a wagon when one wheel comes off”

“A good reputation cannot be bought for any amount of money”

“Intelligence is not enough, using intelligence wisely is the key”

“Respect yourself and others will respect you.”

“Happiness comes from a persons character”

“The squeaky wheel will be the first to get the grease, but if it keeps on squeakin’, it’ll be the first one to be replaced.”