Thoughts On The Way Home

It was 9:02 when I stepped through Red’s office door.  I was up in time to shower and put on fresh clothes before the hike up to the Field House.  Red looked me over as I came in, but didn’t say anything.  I wondered if his arrangement for my evening activity was part of a test too.  I’ll never know if I passed.

Red wanted to go over the scholarship, the commitment it represented on the part of the college and my commitment as well.  He did so in the one and one-half hours that followed.  I was impressed with his thoroughness and openness about this enormous four year step I was about to take.  I felt good about the job opportunity on off season time, this was critical if I were to be financially able to attend college.  He understood and indicated a job would be waiting for me when I came back early next fall.  We shook hands and he offered to give me a ride into Spokane to catch the train.  There was one leaving at 2:00 that afternoon.  I accepted his offer and thanked him.  He would pick me up at Sutton Hall at 1:00.  I hurried back to the room, packed and headed for the New Dorm and lunch.  My stomach was reminding me I had missed breakfast.

The ride to Spokane with Red was interesting.  He told me of his career in coaching military teams.  He hadn’t been at EWC long, but felt he was stuck with little chance for advancement unless he completed his education.  He had been taking a course now and then from Eastern instructors and had some yet to do.  His advice was, get all the education you can as it will open doors later on.  He was interested in my story of growing up on a Montana ranch and attending the first seven years in a one room school with twelve to fifteen students.  I wanted him to know I hadn’t seen a basketball until I was in the eighth grade.

I told him about the Gonzaga representative that contacted me concerning playing ball for them.  He got a chuckle out of that and pointed out that Gonzaga played Eastern twice each year.  He added they had signed a seven foot something player named Jordan that I might come up against next year.

I wanted him to know that Coach Racicot had been of great assistances to our high school and he was well thought of in Eastern Montana.  I told him the basketball coaching in my high school was like a revolving door with coaches coming and going until Coach Racicot took over.

The train ride to Miles City seemed long, but it was restful and gave me a chance to think about the activity of the last few days.  I realized I would be stepping into a completely different world than I was used to and my contact back to my former world would be limited.  I also knew this long ride would be the way I would have to travel each time I came home.  It all seemed too hard to think through.  My thoughts drifted to my tour of Spokane last night.  Was that just last night?  The short nights sleep started to catch up with me.  I wondered if I would see that girl next year.  I closed my eyes and listen to the click of the wheels on the rails.

When I woke it was pitch black outside.  Occasionally a light would flash past the window and clusters of lights could be seen in the distance.   It took a minute or two for the reality of the situation to become clear.  I must have slept for several hours.  I asked a man in the seat ahead of me what time it was.  He dug out a pocket watch and responded, 11:45.  I thanked him and then did some math in my head.  The train was supposed to be in Miles City around 9:00 in the morning.  That meant a lengthy ride left, so I curled up in the seat and went back to sleep.

Miles City looked good to me as we pulled up to the depot.  I hadn’t let anyone know when I’d be getting back, so I walked home.  It felt good to stretch my legs and in no time I was headed up the road toward our house.  Every one wanted to know what it was like, how did I like it, did the coach like me and did he want me to play on their team?  It took a lot of talk to answer all their questions.  Finally things settled down and I asked about the latest news.  What had been happenings at home?

There were twelve days left at Custer County High School for me.  I attended classes and made sure all requirements were met in each one.  I didn’t want to make-up sessions this summer.  When I went to receive my diploma I wanted it signed. I wasn’t too concerned, as I had been monitoring my progress and it looked good in all my classes.  By my senior year I had learned how to study.  Now I would apply that to college studies.

I gave Coach Racicot a full report on my time in Cheney with Red and the favorable impression I had of the school in general. The word had gotten around about my Scholarship to EWC and I got numerous congratulations from students and teachers.  I tried to be matter of fact about it, but it was hard to hold in the excitement I was feeling.

It seemed like the days flew by, filled with the things seniors do the last week.  There was a Senior Banquet that went by in a blur.  Mom went with me and my scholarship was announced as were all other notices of special accomplishment seniors received.  At last commencement day arrived.  We checked out our cap and gown, to take home and press if needed.  There was practice in the gym where the ceremony was to be held.  We received instructions on how to act, the dos and don’ts.

The annual came out early and we traded pictures, signed annuals and took part in other related activities blended with the practice and preparations.  We were lined for the march, it was with boy/girl pairing.  I was paired with Hannah Jean Cotton.  She was the tallest girl, so we lead the march.  When the ceremony was over the crowd milled about congratulating us.  A dance was planned in the Harmony Hangout to keep the students off the roads and streets and reduce the drinking.  The Harmony Hangout was a one story building in town that the school owned and a student committee managed and scheduled events.  I hadn’t been to their functions as it was fairly new.  I went home with Mom and looked forward to quiet time on the ranch.  I wanted to experience as much ranch life as possible before leaving for college at Eastern Washington College in Cheney, Washington.

*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.