Saturday, March 31, 2018

Together We Rise

Back in September, a 16 year old boy from my hometown was seriously injured during football practice. He broke his neck and surgery left him paralyzed from the chest down. As you can imagine, in a small town the news spread like wild fire. Prayers went up just as quickly. 

I didn’t know the kid, but seeing my community hurting, broke my heart. I debated and finally decided to tell my homeroom kids. If I know anything about Webb City, it’s that they can relate to all things football. 

I started with a white board using the Eldon football team’s motto, “Together we rise.” I told my students what had happened a couple days earlier. I explained how my hometown and all of the surrounding communities (even Osage, our biggest rival) were coming together to raise money for this one boy and his family. (All of the schools in our conference, plus a couple others, raised money the next two weeks at their football games!) Watching mid-Missouri come together inspired me to do the same with my homeroom. 

I had my students write on my board what “Together we rise” meant to them. Then we wrote cards to Bushy. Wanting to do more, my mom and I bought my entire homeroom the green Backing Bushy bracelets that were being sold for him. My heart burst with joy as they’d randomly ask if I knew how Bushy was doing, still to this day they ask on occasion. 

During this time I was also teaching a block of math, more specifically statistics. I thought what better way to apply statistics to real life than with football! Lucky for me, Webb City provided us with fairly consistent weekly scores while Eldon provided... obscure scores. 

Things you need to know about Eldon football: I was a Varsity cheerleader 2005-2009. In those 4 years of cheering for Eldon football, they went 4-36. (0-10 my senior year and the year after I graduated!) In those 4 years, we learned to cheer for a first down like it was a touchdown and scoring a touchdown was practically like winning a game. I realize this is a foreign concept to Webb City folks. But we had to cope somehow. 

Fast forward to 2017 and Eldon had been putting together a really great football season. A few of our scores looked more like that of a basketball game: 72-33, 82-48, 69-20, 72-69. Better yet, we were on the WINNING end of those scores! Proud to be a Mustang had never been so true. I don’t know if they were extra inspired by their fallen teammate or what, but it was an exciting time for sure. 

I jumped at the opportunity to go “home” to watch several games for the first time since I’d cheered at them myself. Although it was also lesson planning for me. Each week from September-November, my students would find the average, IQR, and median scores of Webb City, Eldon, and their opponents. We’d write our guesses on the board each Friday and students who guessed the closest got candy the following week. 

I secretly had turned my entire homeroom into fans of the Eldon Mustangs. But to be honest, I felt as though me getting to cheer on my hometown football team during a winning season was long overdue. I’d served my time and cheered proudly as they lost all those years ago, this was my time for redemption. Plus, my kids could rest assured in the fact that Webb City and Eldon would never play each other. 

Long story short, we were all very sad to see Eldon fall to Mt. Vernon at Sectionals. However, I was also very pleased that they had made it that far finishing with an 11-2 record! We rejoiced together as Webb City brought home their 14th State Championship. 

I should have known back in September what a truly special group of kids I had. Looking back now I think Eldon’s football motto perfectly and beautifully sums up my year with my homeroom. Together we rise. And boy have we rose together. 

This group of kids... as they begin to countdown the days left until summer, I cringe. I don’t want to send them to Jr. High. I want to keep them. 

A group like them is a rare gem in teaching. I’ve started feeling incredibly guilty for being this groups homeroom teacher. I rarely have to remind them to turn in missing assignments, they remind each other. I don’t have to pull teeth to get them to make their AR Goals, they read silently when they’re asked. When we were asked by our BIST consultant to come up with students who could benefit from a BIST plan, I was the student looking at the ground hoping not to get called on. I couldn’t answer that, because none of my students need a BIST plan. 

It’s taken until March for me to finally come to terms with the fact that these kids really are that good. The ONE day I had to give them a “stern” talking to, the next week our other pod teachers were telling me how EXTRA good they were for them. When I congratulated the class for being rock stars, they responded, “We had to be! We were messing around during breakfast Friday and we had to make it up to you.” For real? 💔 I would take their “messing around” any day compared to most classes “messing around.”

We are a family. We joke around with each other. They like to remind me that I walked backwards into pole on the first day of school. I teach them important life lessons, like don’t lock your keys, spare key, and phone (containing your keyless entry code) in your car. They warn me when snow is coming, because they know snow and I don’t get along this year since my apartment flooded. They give me a hard time when I “abandon them” by taking HALF a personal day. They write “Go Royals” on my board because they know it’s the quickest way to see their teacher scowl. We celebrated together when Tommy Pham of the St. Louis Cardinals retweeted our white board drawing. 

We build each other up. We cheer each other on. We fail. We make mistakes. We go too far with joking around and say we’re sorry. We do better the next day. We laugh, a lot. We have inside jokes. Sometimes we cry. We give high fives goodbye and occasionally hugs. 

They are weird. They are quirky. They are nerdy in the best of ways. They walk down the hallway, always on the second tile, but sometimes squirmy like a worm or hoppy like a bunny, so you know what? I join them. 

In case you were wondering, Bushy has regained movement in his arms, somewhat-ish in his hands, not his legs, yet. But we’re still praying and hope is still there. I’ve heard he’s a very resilient young man. 

This 31 day blogging challenge wouldn’t have been complete if I hadn’t written about my kids. Years from now, I look forward to reading back on this year. Until then, I’m going to enjoy and soak up the days I have left with these kids.


#TogetherWeRise

Friday, March 30, 2018

Suga Shane's Signature

During summer and holiday breaks in college I worked at Brooks Brothers at the Lake of the Ozarks. (Brooks Brothers is a fancy clothing store. Founded in 1818, it's the oldest retail store in the U.S. I was a cheerleader with the store manager's daughter, so when I graduated in 2009 she asked if I wanted to come work for her.)

By the summer of 2012, I had worked there for three years, and had come to really enjoy it. (That 2012 summer followed the Cardinals 2011 World Series Championship season, obviously. Which was also the summer I had spent many days reading and reading and reading about the Cardinals history. I knew all current players names and had watched every game I could that current season.)

One day that summer it was business as usual, mostly consisting of folding and straightening clothes. Truth be told, I preferred folding and straightening, because I was terrified of measuring a man wrong for a dress shirt or suit. So if a man needed help, I prayed another employee was around. I knew how to measure properly it simply stressed me out!

This particular day, my assistant manager, Patrick, and supervisor, Marsha, were both tied up, so the man needing assistance fell on me. He had me measure his neck and arm length for dress shirts. (Oy!) He picked out 3 dress shirts. Then he let me pick out 3 ties to match. That was always my favorite part. And this man was kind. Sometimes they were picky and hated everything I picked out (then why bother asking for help?!). This man, however, liked the options I gave him and quickly chose the 3 he liked best.

On to the cash register we went. We always had to ask their name and zip code to see if they were in our clientele system. At Brooks Brothers they keep record of sizes, so if you forget or someone is shopping for you it can be looked up. He wasn't in clientele and was fine with being added.

First name? Shane.
Last name? Robinson.

I looked at my wrist, where I was wearing my St. Louis Cardinals bracelet. Looked back up at the screen, Shane Robinson. Looked over the man standing in front of me. Yep, he could be a ball player. It's July. Baseball is on break for the All-Star Game. This could be him alright.

My hands were shaking and the inner turmoil set in. Do I ask? No. I don't want to disturb him. And what if I'm wrong? That's embarrassing. But what if I'm not? What if this is THE Shane Robinson? St. Louis Cardinals outfielder, Shane Robinson??? Yeah right. Not at the Lake of the Ozarks. 

Don't worry, all of my inner thoughts occurred as I continued to check out Mr. Shane Robinson. (Yes, pun fully intended!) I bagged his clothes, he signed his receipt, and I sent him on his way.

As soon as he got out the door, I ran to the back squealing. Patrick, my assistant manager, was also a baseball fan. (He grew up in Pittsburgh, so he was a Pirates fan.) In three years we had had numerous chats about baseball. He always mocked me for talking about the Cardinals like I actually knew them. (He was about to find out I really did!) However, he was also one of the few men who acknowledged I knew what I was talking about when I talked baseball, so it was always enjoyable.

"PATRICK! I just helped Shane Robinson! St. Louis Cardinals, Shane Robinson! It had to be him! I think it was him! I have his address! Can I look up where he lives?!"

I'm typically a quiet human being, but when the Cardinals are involved all sense of calm escapes me. Patrick graciously directed me to the "for managers only" computer so I could Google Shane Robinson. 

With the help of Wikipedia I learned Shane was from Georgia. Oh my lanta! I also learned he was 5'9". Goosebumps!

By then, Patrick had gone back out to help Marsha on the sales floor. I scurried back out, looked around for customers, and began squealing again.

"PATRICK! It was him! It was THE Shane Robinson! He's from Georgia! That's the address he gave me! And he's 5'9"! That man was not much taller than me! He was built like a ball player! I just talked and sold shirts to Shane Robinson! Eek! I measured him for those shirts! I just touched a Cardinals baseball player!"

(Yes, I do teach Comm. Arts. So yes, I'm aware that one should not overuse exclamation points. However, I am also aware of how unnecessarily fast and high-pitched I talk when excited, so I have deemed them all acceptable.)

Patrick and Marsha probably should have been highly concerned about me. Instead, knowing my obsession for all things Cardinals, they joined in the commotion with me. 

"Is he still around? Where was he going? Go get his autograph!"

By that time, he had been gone for several minutes. He had gotten a phone call before leaving so I knew he was meeting his wife somewhere. And by then I decided it was best not to go searching for him. I'd be content with knowing I'd helped him and I'd watch interviews to see if I ever saw him in the shirts and ties we'd picked out together.

Patrick, being kind and gracious, went to the cash register drawer. He pulled out the receipt from Shane's transaction. He considered attempting to make a copy of it, but the copy machine Brooks Brothers had would have eaten up a receipt. So instead Patrick handed it to me and said, "you didn't get this from me."

That was the day I got THE St. Louis Cardinals outfielder, Shane Robinson's signature. No, not his autograph, his signature. 

You didn't see this from me.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

The Cardinal Way

A poem to show both my nerdiness and excitement that TODAY is finally Opening Day.

Baseball. Is. Here.

The always entertaining pitcher, Carlos Martinez.

CARDINAL NATION:

Cardinal Nation gathers at Citi Field today
Anxious to catch the color of Martinez's hair, oh please not blue!
Ready are we to see what this new season holds.
DeJong back at short stop looks to avoid the Sophomore Slump.
Infield veteran, Matt Carpenter, moves back to 3rd while
Native Hawaiian, Kolton Wong, remains steady at 2nd.
And I believe José shall be who's on 1st.
Lovely, oh so lovely, to have all our boys back.

Now to the outfield, boy are they stacked.
A return to batting leadoff, Fowler will make as
Tommy Pham looks to become a 30/30 club member.
In walks Ozuna for his debut wearing the birds on the bat.
Oh but wait, we're not done, here comes the GOAT to a standing ovation.
Now how have they not learned... do NOT steal on Yadi!

Image may contain: 1 person, playing a sport, baseball and outdoor


Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Victory in the Heartache

July 21, 2012, the St. Louis Cardinals beat the Chicago Cubs 12-0. At the time, it was one of the few things that made me smile that day. They had completely destroyed our biggest rival.

July 21, 2012, I was in Iowa in my roommate's wedding 240 miles away from home.

July 21, 2012, was my 21st birthday.

July 21, 2012, my Granny passed away.

I should note that I have a sense of humor, maybe slightly skewed or morbid, but that's okay. This isn't a post to get an, "I'm so sorry for your loss!" It's about the joy baseball brings me. Also, I know for sure that my Granny is in a much better place and reunited with my Papa in Heaven. He's sitting quietly and she's talking his ear off. Luckily he had hearing aids, so he probably has them turned off. He wouldn't bother asking God to restore his hearing in Heaven. Granny is eating frozen yogurt and Papa is eating ice cream, buckets and buckets of ice cream. And now on my birthday I get to celebrate doubly, because it's the day my Granny met Jesus. However, I wouldn't recommend you saying that to someone at a funeral, give them space to come to that conclusion in their own time! Moving on...

In March of 2012 my Granny had open heart surgery. After she went to a nursing home for rehab. By July she hadn't made it back home yet and had been in and out of the hospital a few times.

I was supposed to be in my roommate's wedding in Iowa and I knew my Granny would want me to keep my promise, so I still went.

Really late, the night before the wedding, the night before my birthday, my dad called to let me know my Granny wasn't doing well. I sat upstairs alone doing my best to pull myself back together. Emma, knowing she had planned her wedding on my birthday, had graciously surprised me with a party the night before her wedding. The rest of the girls were downstairs still enjoying my party.

The wedding day and my birthday came. I put on a smile not wanting to take attention away from Emma and Mike's wedding day. Although all the girls knew my sorrows, so they frequently made sure I was okay.

After the wedding I had a missed phone call from my dad. As soon as I got to my car to drive to the reception I called him back. Alone in my car, once again I was left pulling myself together. I called my friend Emily. My Granny had been just as much her grandma. I couldn't even get the words to come out of my mouth, but she knew why I called. We just sat in silence except for our sobs until I reached the wedding reception.

At the reception, Emma, the bride, was super sweet. Just like she had been all week. When she saw me get out of my car at her reception, tears streaming down my cheeks, she knew. She, the bride, instantly started taking care of me, wiping away my tears and fixing my makeup before we took pictures. (I have to admit, I'm quite proud of myself. In ALL of the billions of pictures taken that day, only one can you tell I had been crying!)


I managed to smile, laugh, and choke back tears through the entire reception. I put on a fake smile as people came up to me and said what a great birthday celebration this must be. They had no way of knowing on the inside my heart was in a million pieces.

At one point during the reception, a good friend and fellow Cardinal fan tweeted me, letting me know the Cardinals had slaughtered AND swept the Cubs for my birthday. I was thankful and smiled at her thoughtfulness to give me something to rejoice.

A few years later in 2017, the Cardinals weren't having the greatest season. A game with no defensive errors, an outburst on offense, a miracle of a come from behind finish, a rally cat, a player called up from the Minor Leagues were things to look forward to even when we lost, which was often and in the most humiliating of ways.

On July 21, 2017, I sent a group text to my Cardinal fan friends. (We refer to ourselves as the Council of GM's. Yes, council, like from the Lord of the Rings. In our minds we believe we would be outstanding General Managers for the Cardinals. In our hearts it would be a dream come true.) Anyway, I sent them all a text informing them we were going to win that day and I would tell them how I knew later. I think Brianna was the only one who sort of believed me, the others, all boys, just laughed in disbelief. It was okay though, I knew my Cardinals would prove me right.

I won't bore you with the details of the game, although it was very exciting. Over and over, I texted the council, "Happy birthday to me!" They might have been annoyed, but they knew it was my way of saying, "I told ya so!"

From Emily, a Cubs fan, in 2017.
(I know, how are we even friends?)
That makes this all the more special.

I view birthdays differently now than I used to. Emma has sent me sweet texts every year since 2012, one that lets me know she remembers it's an extremely bittersweet day for me. I appreciate it from Emma, because she was there, she knows, and she understands. I greatly treasure the people who don't know better though, because I still get the joyous texts one should get on their birthday. I truly value both.

Looking back on 2012, the Cardinals winning is a fond memory I have from that day. In 2017 I felt it in my heart that they would repeat the victory against the Cubs 5 years later. As usual, my Cardinals didn't disappoint. They won 11-4. A come from behind win after scoring 9 runs in the 8th inning.

Baseball, specifically St. Louis Cardinals baseball, is healing. Sometimes it's a distraction and escape from reality. It provides a brief smile and allows one to be happy even when their heart is breaking. Other times it's simply an enjoyable way to pass time. It's a way to bond with friends and family. It gives people something to talk about other than the weather.

Baseball. St. Louis Cardinals baseball. It's coming.

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

The Yips

When I got to my parents after my trip to Idaho for Spring Break, I saw a St. Louis Cardinals pennant on their table. I asked my mom where it came from, because I hadn't seen it before. They had gotten it for ME after they dropped me off at the airport. They had actually bought two different pennants and let my brother-in-law pick which one he wanted first. I started looking at mine a little closer and noticed it was the 2000 National League Central Division Championship pennant. What an odd coincidence!

While I don't particularly like reading, I do make myself read. In college, I realized I enjoy reading biographies, so that's what I tend to read now. Over Spring Break, I read Rick Ankiel's autobiography. My guess is most people reading this don't know who he is, so allow me to enlighten you.

Rick Ankiel, St. Louis Cardinals pitcher, eh, outfielder...

Rick Ankiel made his major league debut at 20 years of age with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1999 as a pitcher. (It doesn't take an obsessed baseball fan to know that 20 years old is very young to start a professional sports career.) He was brought up to the majors, like many minor leaguers, in August.

The following season, he began his rookie year in the starting rotation, quite impressive for only being 21. Ankiel finished 2nd in votes for the 2000 Rookie of the Year in the National League. He was good.

That October, the Cardinals made Post Season. The rookie was set to make his Post Season debut in Game 1 of the Division Series against Atlanta. The Cardinals were leading in the 3rd inning when Ank headed back out to the pitcher's mound.

He threw a wild pitch. That happens to pitchers on occasion, no big deal. Until he threw another wild pitch. Then another. And another. A total of 5 wild pitches, 4 runs scored on 2 hits, and 4 walks in the 3rd inning.

For whatever reason, Rick's body, mind, or soul wouldn't allow him to throw a pitch correctly. He ended his rookie year Post Season with 5 innings, 9 (kind of 13) wild pitches, and 11 walks.

The Yips.

The Monster.

The Thing.

Almost 20 years later, people still don't know what exactly happened to Ankiel on the mound nor what to call it. He uses The Yips, The Monster, and The Thing interchangeably in his autobiography.

However, stopping there wouldn't be much of a story, nor would it give much reason to him writing an autobiography.

He tried to come back in 2001 as a starting pitcher. He made 6 starts and tried everything to calm the nerves, anxiety, and voices in his head. It worked temporarily, but after his 6th start the pressure was too much and he asked Tony La Russa to send him down to the Minors.

Ank worked and worked to make his way back to the big leagues. I hate to imagine the amount of damage he did to his body trying to quiet The Monster. Finally, when he was 25 he walked into La Russa's office during Spring Training, said he was done, he couldn't do it anymore, and retired.

Retired. At 25. The only life he'd ever known. The life that was supposed to be better for him. Give him a way out of his difficult family life. A father who only wanted his money, was in and out of prison, making sure Rick knew he was worthless if he couldn't throw a strike.

Luckily, Ankiel's manager and psychiatrist (who had become like a father to Rick) had an idea, if they could get him on board with it. The pressure was on his pitching, but he had a decent bat, he had been a DH in the minors on days he didn't pitch. He should give outfield a shot.

La Russa and the rest of the Cardinals staff were all in agreement to give him a chance. I think they all had a soft spot for him, because no one in the world could explain what happened to his arm, or mind, 4 years earlier.

Finally in August of 2007, nearly 7 years after The Yips first inhabited him, he made his way back to the big leagues. Under the stadium lights, in his first game, he hit a home run. The St. Louis crowd went wild. Many of them knew his story, they knew the battle he had fought to return for this moment, and they were elated for him. La Russa, a man of one expression, even cracked a wide smile when Ankiel hit that home run. Bystanders in St. Louis that night said they knew something impressive happened at Busch that night, because the uproar could be heard all around the city.

Maybe even more impressive than his bat was his arm. Twice in one game that 2007 season, Ankiel launched a ball from center field to 3rd base for an out. He couldn't throw a ball 6o feet 6 inches for a strike, but give him 250-300 feet from the outfield to 3rd base, not being able to see his target, no problem!

Ankiel was back. He went on to play 3 seasons in St. Louis. He played for various other teams until he retired, again, in 2013. Now you can find him on Fox Sports Midwest from time to time, analyzing Cardinals games and inspiring young players who deal with anxiety.

There's a lot more to his story than can be written in an informative blog. If you like biographies and baseball, I recommend his book The Phenomenon: Pressure, the Yips, and the Pitch that Changed My Life. It's not an extraordinarily written book, but it sure is a beautiful and inspirational picture of redemption.

Getting the St. Louis Cardinals pennant from my parents made me happy. I love getting new Cardinals memorabilia. However, when I saw it was from the 2000 season, more specifically the NLDS Championship pennant, it gave me goosebumps. My parents didn't know I was reading Rick Ankiel's book during Spring Break. My brother-in-law just happened to leave that 2000 pennant to be mine. That season, more specifically, that NLDS series, was the series in which made Rick Ankiel the Phenomenon. It gave him the Yips, the Monster, the Thing, but it also made his story an inspiration to reach a lot more people. Now when I see my pennant, I'll be reminded of his story, his book, and my first trip to Idaho.

For any nerds like me, a link to watch Ankiel's career unravel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDZX525CSvw 

His come back home run at 2 minutes 40 seconds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcWO0eBjh6Y

Ankiel's impressive throws to third: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cSgDflCF98

IS IT THURSDAY YET?!?!

Monday, March 26, 2018

Part Four: RIP Jack

Since I've already written about my apartment flooding, I figure I might as well tell the last (to my knowledge) ironic part of the story. Plus, Cardinals baseball season starts this week, so prepare for several Cardinals posts!

Sometime during the chaos when water was still overtaking my apartment, my dad called to see how things were going. He also asked, knowing the water started in my spare bedroom, how my St. Louis Cardinal bobbleheads were.

Sidenote:

My family goes to a lot of St. Louis Cardinals games. I think it's been going on 6 years now that we almost go exclusively to games with bobblehead giveaways. My spare bedroom has a travel theme, most notably a St. Louis Cardinals theme. Therefore, ALL of my bobbleheads I've collected the past 5 years are dispersed around the room. Also, I'm getting a new bobblehead April 7th, at my first Cardinals game of the 2018 season!

Back to the original story:

At the time, my dad didn't realize water wasn't really coming through the ceiling. So I assured him all my Cardinal boys were safe and sound. I found it quite humorous, my bobbleheads were the ONLY thing he specifically asked about that day. (You see where I get my priorities from!)

The weekend after I got to move back into my apartment, my parents came down to help me clean, redecorate, and replace lost items. My dad and I strategically placed my bobbleheads around the room. We did our best to group them with other players/managers/announcers from their decade of play.

Late one night, approximately two weeks later, I went in my spare room and caught a glimpse of a disaster. A shelf I had multiple bobbleheads on was now in the floor. To keep from crying, I called my mom. (Yes, on a school night for both of us, plus 11 o'clock at night, but this was urgent!)

As I talked to her, I nervously uncovered the rubble. I knew without a doubt at least one bobblehead was broken, based off of the detached head in the corner. I moved the glass soda bottle, it was fine. Gibby, Lou, Harry Carey, Whitey, and Ozzie were all fine! When I found the body of the beheaded Jack Buck, I started laughing uncontrollably.

The beheaded Jack Buck.
He's since been fixed good as new!
Truth be told, I had been fighting back laughter for quite some time. The thought had entered by mind of the irony of the current situation. The first thing my dad asked about during the flood were my bobbleheads. They survived the flood, yet they couldn't survive a normal Tuesday.

When I told my mom why I was laughing, she began laughing along with me. She had wanted to nearly the entire time, for the same reasons I had, but didn't want to offend me.

After rummaging through all of the debris,
I was left bewildered. My red shelf had a metal bar that ran across the bottom. When it fell, I could tell the metal bar landed on the corner of my printer (my printer had died in the flood and I hadn't disposed of it yet), because the bar was now bent. Two of the shelves were broken in half as well.

Once again, I was left feeling very thankful. The shelf can be replaced fairly easily with a new one. However, the bobbleheads, glass soda bottle, and other few knickknacks I had on the shelf would have been harder to replace. I'm still puzzled as to how the metal and wood bent, yet the ceramic and glass objects were unharmed. My dad and I concluded with God was proving where His team loyalty lies, that He is indeed a St. Louis Cardinals fan.



Sunday, March 25, 2018

It's Coming

Today was busy. Hence the late blog post. Church, family lunch, a few extra hugs and kisses for my nephew, packing, telling my dogs goodbye, and driving 3 hours back to Webb City.

Tomorrow it's back to school we go from a delightful Spring Break that I'm still in denial about being almost over. I love teaching, I love my students, but I love Spring Break and always hate to see it end.

However, this year, this week following Spring Break provides a light at the end of a cold, dark, winter tunnel. No longer will I be sitting and staring out the window waiting for winter to end.

Thursday is coming. Thursday at noon, 12:10 to be exact, the cold, dark winter, becomes a bright and glorious spring day. One I've been anticipating since last October.

Thursday is when the quiet winter turns into bats cracking, balls whizzing, and crowds applauding. The dark winter nights become stadium lights. The frigid air slowly changes into a slight breeze with warm air on its way. A sea of red will make its way into Citi Field. Cardinal hopefuls will look ahead anticipating games going to late October this year.

Baseball. St. Louis Cardinals baseball. It's coming. Finally.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

They Want You to Take the Rolls

“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” ~Winnie the Pooh

A response to my friend who posted this “ugly cry in the airport terminal” kind of tribute after I left Boise yesterday.

Sure am thankful for this friend!
I’m equally as thankful for her. 

Thankful that some nursery workers sat us down beside each other to play.
Thankful for a double-head knot after she bumped her head in the corner of the room at Sunday School and me losing a tooth in vanilla soft serve after a Sunday night church field trip to the CreeMee. 

Thankful for years of being invited to each others birthdays.
Especially thankful for her on my 21st birthday. States apart, she sat with me on the phone crying after my Granny passed away. Then we told stories so I ended my birthday in tears of laughter not just sorrow. 

Thankful that church camp provided us so many uninterrupted hours of friendship.
Thankful that she was the sole reason I got over being homesick going to church camp. 

Thankful that she tried out for cheerleading because it made me try it too.
Thankful that she believed in me when no one else did, and when I didn’t even believe in myself. 

Thankful for years of cramming six people into her family’s sedan so I could have a ride to church.
Thankful she didn’t mind pouring out of the sedan looking like a clown car. Thankful she was there during first difficult transition of my life. Thankful for the numerous church pew shaking giggles we shared when choking on communion. 

Thankful she suggested I look at Christian colleges even if it wasn’t hers.
Thankful God answered this prayer when I thought it might not happen. 

Thankful she stood beside me when I married the love of my life.
Thankful she found a man who loves her like she deserves to be loved and is the Topanga to our Cory and Shawn friendship. They want you to take the cookies!

Thankful for four years of spring breaks spent in four different homes.
Thankful for the new adventures each spring brings. 

Thankful that after Bart and myself she was the first person to hold my daughter.
Thankful isn’t adequate enough to express how much that moment meant to me. 

Thankful that I get to watch Ainsley learn how great it is to be loved by this friend.
Thankful that Ainsley’s mom has loved me and stuck by my side during every phase of life.

#AuntCait #ActualBFF
#AuntieEmAuntieEm #CoryandShawn

Friday, March 23, 2018

Things to Remember

Dear Fututre Caitlin,

Next year when you are planning your Spring Break trip, here are a few things to keep in mind:

  1. Try to fly Southwest. Even if it costs a little extra, the easy check-in process and no charge for a checked bag is worth it. 
  2. Do NOT leave Boise before the crack of dawn. No one wants to be awake at 3 in the morning. The coffee shops at the airport aren’t open yet. At 4 am, after checking in, you’ll want coffee, but you can’t get it. 
  3. Write blogs ahead of time and schedule them to publish. You had a good start in 2018, but the last few days that weren’t scheduled were rough to get finished. 
  4. When you leave for the airport at 3:20 in the morning you don’t get to kiss Ainsley goodbye, you and Emily don’t talk on the drive to the airport, and Bart is snoozing back at home making everyone jealous. 
I’m sure there are other important things to remember about Spring Break, but that list will suffice for now. You did do a good job this year by using your large suitcase so your carry-on was nice and light. Keep that up!

Sincerely,
A very sleepy, slightly teary-eyed, de-caffeinated Caitlin

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Five More Minutes

It's my last day in Idaho. Tomorrow I'll be boarding a plane in the wee hours of the morning to head back to Missouri.

Spring Break always seems to start out slow, but then it's over before I know it. This year is no different. I feel like I just got to Boise yesterday. 

However, yesterday we celebrated Ainsley turning one and during some down time I went for a run in Bart and Emily's neighborhood. I could get used to running here. Their neighborhood borders the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I usually don't stop when I'm on a run but yesterday I took time to stop and smell the roses, or gaze at God's beautiful handiwork. The snow covered mountains with grassy foothills in the forefront was a perfect way to welcome spring. 

Tomorrow, tears will probably be shed when I have to leave and I'll be wishing i could get five more minutes. But I still have today. So I'm going to not think about tomorrow and soak up my time I have with the Shaws today. 

Emily pulled into a church parking lot knowing
I wanted a picture of the snowy mountains. 

A view from my run
in Bart and Emily’s neighborhood. 

Stop and smell the roses.
Or take pictures of the mountains. 




Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Ainsley Turns One

A year ago today, I became Aunt Cait for the first time. It doesn't seem possible it's already been a year since I was sitting in a waiting room awaiting the arrival of my best friend's little girl.

Usually in a waiting room, it's packed with the parents and siblings of the soon-to-be-parents. It was just me, myself, and I though. Not that others didn't want to be there. It was the first grandchild on both sides. But a trip to Phoenix from Chicago and Eldon in the middle of March wasn't possible for the new grandparents-to-be. I was just lucky enough to be on Spring Break, and that Bart and Emily wanted me there. 

Last year was made extra special, because I got to be the first person to hold Ainsley after her parents. 

Sunday, in Idaho, we celebrated her first birthday. Emily and I worked all evening Saturday, after I arrived in Idaho, and all day Sunday until party time getting decorations and food finished. (First birthday parties take a lot of work!)

Party time finally came. Bart distracted people in the living room (he's really good at talking just for the sake of talking) while Emily and I quickly finished up in the kitchen. 

The party was a huge success. The kids played in the backyard. The adults all mingled in the living room. Feeling slightly out of place, I enjoyed being photographer and playing with the little kids. Eventually people caught on that I was Emily's "Spring Break Friend" and not someone who had become really good friends with the Shaws in the 10 short months they'd lived in Boise. (After four Sprig Breaks in 3 different states, I've become used to people referring to me as the Spring Break friend Emily has known her whole life.)

The party ended. Ainsley loved her cake and opening presents. She mostly loved when everyone left her house so she could play with all of her new toys with her mommy, daddy, and Aunt Caitlin.

Today we continue celebrating this precious little girl on her actual first birthday. 








Tuesday, March 20, 2018

The Shore

As Biddle drove past Eugene (the last exit before Eldon) he pulled over to the side of HWY 54. We were confused. We were so close to home and he was pulling over? (We wouldn't have put it past him to be finding a tree...) 

On the contrary, he stood and looked back at all of us. In all of the time we had spent, and would spend in the future, with Mr. Biddle, we had never once seen him emotional. Until that moment. He gave this remarkable speech as he choked back tears. Biddle, this big, strong, usually sarcastic, always wise, pillar of a man, Papa Parli, was choking up over his 7 teenagers. 

On our hardest days of practice, he would tell us to keep swimming. (No, not like the Dory, just keep swimming!) He knew studying Parliamentary Procedure was tedious, plus we were Seniors and could easily cave to Senioritis. So he reminded us frequently not to stop swimming just because we saw the shore (Nationals). Don't stop when you see the shore, stop when you reach the shore. He promised us that as long as we kept out-working our opponents that we darn sure wouldn't be out-coached either.

In that moment on the bus, he thanked us for continuing to swim when it got hard. In the two weeks leading up to Nationals when tempers flared, he was proud of our fight to keep moving forward and continue working as a team. When they announced the wrong teams in the Final Four, he was proud we didn't go in to finals defeated and still gave it our all. He thanked us for reaching the shore with him. 

Needless to say, we all ended in tears. The 10 minutes we had left on the bus we sat in silence, fighting back tears, and reflecting. I don't think there has ever been a prouder group of 3rd place finishers. Don't get us wrong, we ALL wished we would have won. But in our hearts, we felt like we had won. (We also thought there should be an asterisk by our 3rd place.)

Finally, we pulled into Eldon. We got to the street that passes the high school to the Ag. Department and there were people lining the street. They had signs and were cheering. It was as though we had just won the World Series and this was our welcome home, celebration parade. If you know anything about the small town of Eldon, for them it really was like a World Series Championship. 

Parli was so much more than just a contest. We were all part of something that was bigger than ourselves. For Biddle, it was years and years of dedicating himself to coaching young people and building their character. For some of us, it was continuing a family legacy. For all of us, it was living up to the 2000 and 2005 teams who made Final Four at Nationals, it was representing not only Eldon, but also Missouri, to the best of our abilities, and it was about learning to reach the shore. 

Our Parli reunion a few years ago.
Parli reunion a few years ago. 
*Mr. Biddle retired in 2015. He won State and took teams back to Nationals in 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2015. In 2010 and 2014, he finally got his National Championships. To be honest, I was a little jealous of the 2010 team, wishing we could have been the first to win it for Biddle. But in true Biddle fashion, he thanked the members of his previous teams, because he knew each of those teams had created the legacy and paved the way for others. 

2010 National Champs
2010 National Champions

2014 National Champs
2014 National Champions
**In 2017, continuing what Biddle started, Eldon FFA's Parliamentary Procedure team made it back to Nationals with a new advisor. They placed 2nd. I look forward to constantly updating the online judges card come end of April to see what Eldon does in 2018. 

Monday, March 19, 2018

The Ride Home

Leaving Indy we were on top of the world. We had accomplished our goal set many years beforehand. We had extended the Bever and Shad legacy in FFA as well as solidified Biddle as one of the top Parli coaches in the country. 

We had made memories that were going to last a lifetime, but they weren't quite finished yet. We still had an entire bus ride home together. We had stopped not far out of the city for lunch (I think Arby's). When we were leaving a family from a town that neighbors Eldon walked in. We all knew each other so we chatted a bit. Then our team gathered on our short bus to make the trek back to Missouri. 

We were a few miles down the interstate when Lauren asked Chris a question. We thought it was strange he had fallen asleep so quickly and didn't answer. But then all at once the 6 of us and Biddle thought aloud, "Wait! Has anyone seen Chris since Arby's?"

I suppose this would make sense if we were on a regular sized bus and had 60 other kids on it. But there were 7 of us and it was a short bus. PLUS, Chris typically sat on the cooler next to the driver's seat (this should not be tried at home) talking to Biddle. So how we didn't notice is beyond us. 

We turned back around and picked him up. When we pulled in, our friends from Eugene were waiting with him and all were laughing hysterically. (For whatever reason Chris hadn't tried calling any of us!) 

Biddle quickly asked what he planned to do if we hadn't come back for him. He said he would have just hitched a ride with the Bashore family. (Gotta love small towns.) 

Chris got on the bus to all of us making fun of him. That's what he got for going to the bathroom. He also never let us live it down that we almost left him in Indianapolis. But it was just another memory to add to our Parliamentary Procedure adventures. 

Chris actually on the bus.


Sunday, March 18, 2018

The Banquet

It took a lot to convince my parents we had indeed made the Final Four (eh, five?). They thought for sure I was pulling their leg. Finally they believed me when they heard everyone in the background cheering and screaming. They were going to do their best to get to the Convention Center in time.

Meanwhile, our team had to get prepared. We were emotional and out of focus. To add to the pressure, they escorted us into the Final Four waiting room and we could feel the other four teams staring at us. We knew what they were thinking. What are they doing in here? Are they lost? Don't they know they didn't make the finals?

The officials had decided to make it a Final Five since it was their mistake. They announced to the room that they had messed up which only made it more awkward for the Missouri team. I can only imagine the other teams must have wondered who wasn't supposed to be there.

We had to focus and get ourselves back in the moment. This would be the biggest audience we had ever demonstrated in front of. Thanks to our siblings before us, we were aware that finals was in front of a couple thousand people. We circled up to pray and headed to the stage. (By the way, my parents and sister had made it just in the nick-of-time! They only opened doors in between demonstrations, and they got in after the first team finished.)

I think we could all tell in the middle of our demonstration, it was far from our best work. We made all of our motions without mistake, but our debates weren't as strong as usual. We made it through the end of round questions. I took one final look out into the audience, knowing it would be our last ever Parli demonstration. We turned and walked off stage one final time as a team.

Biddle met us in the hallway. We could see the look of pride in his eyes. He gave us the option of watching the other teams demonstrate or going to wander the convention center vendors. We were done and fate was out of our hands, so we elected to go have fun. (Plus the banquet to announce final placement was hours away!)

Finally banquet time arrived. All of the National Parliamentary Procedure teams got to attend the banquet. It was a fancy multi-course meal.

Three things I remember about the banquet:
  1. The dessert was a delicious chocolate cake and there were fancy balls of butter in glass dishes on every table.
  2. For the life of me, I have no idea why or how, but my best friend Emily got to attend the banquet with us. (She's the one I'm visiting for Spring Break.) She was a year younger, and knew she'd be on the Parli team come January. She was attending FFA Convention with others from our Chapter, but none of the others got to come to all of our demonstrations. None of our family members got to come to our banquet, but she did. I suppose, looking back, even Mr. Biddle was aware of how close Emily and I were, more sisters than friends. Regardless, it made my Nationals experience all the more special being able to share it with her.
  3. Our table had a perfect view of the New Mexico team. Far enough away we could whisper and not be heard, but close enough we could see their faces.
Dinner was over and it was time for awards. First they give Silver and Gold ratings to the teams not in the Final Four. Next they awarded Outstanding Chairman and Outstanding Secretary. Lauren received Outstanding Secretary for her minutes during our demonstrations.

The moment we had been waiting for was here. The Final Five placements. We were all holding our breath, hoping and praying we didn't end in fifth. (The embarrassment!) 

Fifth Place? You guessed it! New Mexico. Whew. (To this day I wonder if they realized they were the mistaken finals team. I actually kind of feel bad for them.)

Fourth place... Oklahoma. Sigh of relief. (After being outcasted and stared at awkwardly in the finals waiting room, our goal was to not finish 5th or 4th. We wanted to make sure they knew we belonged.)

Third place... Eldon FFA Chapter from Missouri. 

We walked to the front of the banquet hall, received our plaques and individual pins, and got our picture taken. We were beaming. Our parents met us after the banquet to get pictures. They were proud, too.

Even though most of our parents were in Indianapolis, we all chose to ride the bus back to Eldon together Saturday evening. For one last Parli hoorah!


*For curious minds, Michigan finished 2nd and Arizona became Natinal Champions.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

The Final Five

Thursday was the first big day of competition. Prelims. We got to the Hyatt Regency Hotel early. Advisors aren't allowed back in the waiting room with the teams, so Mr. Biddle dropped us off and headed to our demonstration room.

We studied and waited for our turn. Since Area we had one ritual we did before every competition. We joined hands and prayed as a team. Knowing our time was coming, we joined hands, prayed, and settled our nerves. Out we went.

I don't remember the main motion, or any motions for that matter. I remember going to the conference room after all prelims were over for the announcement. They announced the 12 teams that made it to Semi-finals, and we were one of the twelve! One step closer to our Final Four goal.

Waiting in the hotel lobby.
Friday came. We got to the Hyatt. Biddle dropped us off at our waiting room.

Turkey Sandwich Bowling.
The wait on Friday seemed to take forever! We had studied and practiced so much that week, we were tired of studying, so we reverted back to our old state habits. The boys took our Robert's Rules of Order books and set them up like bowling pins. They used their saran wrapped sandwiches as bowling balls. Thus the infamous turkey sandwich bowling was created. Our fellow competitors looked on in confusion at the idiots from Missouri. (California specifically turned their noses up at us, but we had been warned about them already. They are also known to be top competitors at Nationals.)

Our time came. We prayed, then in we walked to our demonstration. I was disappointed to see Object to the Consideration of the Question was on our card. I had grown to love being "The Objector." Then I realized it was bolded. Meaning it was my motion! We had this in the bag. Hello, Final Four!

We stood in front of the judges for our post demonstration questions. Since I had Object on my card, questions about that motion went to me. I could see the flabbergasted expression from the judges as I recited the answer word-for-word as Robert's reads. (That was one of two compliments they wrote on our feedback. Needless to say it was a proud moment for my Parli days.)

Going into the room where they were to announce the Final Four, we felt confident. We had done our best demonstration to date. Squatty, bald guy was there, and he even told us he was shocked, and pleased, at how far we had come. (Considering he was currently a judge, this reinforced our confidence.)

The announcement came.

Advancing to Final Four: Michigan, Oklahoma, Arizona, and New Mexico.

We were crushed. Tears flowed down all of the girls cheeks. We couldn't get out of that room fast enough.

Mr. Biddle grabbed all of us and took us to the conference room next door. He had the privilege of watching the other teams demonstrations and even he was amazed we hadn't made it. A few of our teammate's parents had come to Indy as well (mine were on their way, hoping to get to watch us in the finals), so he snatched them into the room, too. He consoled us, told us how proud he was, and that not making it to finals wasn't something to be disappointed about. We had still made it to Nationals. He hugged us and dismissed us one last time.

Parents headed to the escalators, so they could go back to their hotels and get a head start home to Missouri. I called my parents letting them know they could slow down. We hadn't made finals. (They were bringing my sister, because she was getting her American Degree the next morning. It just worked out that I was competing the same year.)

Our team stumbled our way around the hallway and waited for Mr. Biddle. He had gotten called over by the announcer guy.

Biddle must have had a sixth sense, because before the guy said anything to him, Biddle yelled to us to stop our parents. We began screaming across, and down the hotel escalators for them to come back up.

We didn't wait for them to return, we just followed Biddle to the announcer guy. He apologized profusely. He had made a mistake when reading the Final Four teams. Missouri was supposed to advance to finals, not New Mexico! (I'm not sure he should have revealed to us the team who wasn't supposed to advance, but at that moment, we could care less.)

Our very confused parents had arrived by then to find us crying even more, but this time with smiles as wide as the Missouri River. WE MADE IT!

They rushed us to Finals Hall. (It was in the actual convention center, connected to the Hyatt, but still a decent walk away.) We had lost a good chunk of time compared to the other four teams. As we jogged, I called my parents back and told them to put the pedal to the metal.

Right after finding out we had actually made it to
the Final "Five" Four.

Friday, March 16, 2018

The Road to Nationals

We won State in April. Nationals wasn't until late October.

Mr. Biddle, for the most part, gave us the summer off. Summer is an extra busy time for FFA with County, District, and State Fairs, and various other events. When we were on trips he would pick our brain to keep us fresh, but mostly he didn't want us to get burnt out on Parli.

Come August, when school started, we brushed off our Parli Bibles (Robert's Rules of Order) and hit the ground running.

Practices were a little trickier in the fall. The boys all had football right after school and the girls all had early morning band before school. Luckily, band didn't meet on Monday mornings, so we saved that day for Parli practice. We usually met after the boys were done with football and at least once on weekends. Some of them also had jobs, a few lived on farms, and I had cheerleading. Our juggling act was quite impressive. There was no rest for the weary!

Come early October, nerves were settling in. Gone were the days of the boys not taking Parli seriously! They had gotten a taste of winning and wanted to continue Mr. Biddle's legacy.

We hit a bump in the road 2.5 weeks away from Nationals. Our chairman got into a tiff with Mr. Biddle one morning before school. He decided he was done. By the end of the school day, our team had already made necessary transitions. I would take over Lauren's role as Secretary (that was an added role at Nationals not used at State), Lauren would move to Chairman, and Chris (our alternate) would fill my role as the opposer.

(Side note: Mr. Biddle had given me the motion Object to the Consideration of the Question way back in January. Unless it was given to someone else on the card, I made it every time. He knew I was typically a positive person, so he wanted to challenge me.)

We already had a scheduled practice that night. So we met a little early, expecting Avery might show up. We planned to stick to our guns. If he was going to let some petty quarrel cause him to walk out, we didn't need that on our team. Sure enough, in walked Avery. Sure enough, by the end we exhausted all of our emotions. Sure enough, our team went back to the way it was, because we'd learned a thing or two about debating and none of us could argue with Avery's reasons for wanting forgiveness.

He knew he had gotten caught up in the heat of the moment that morning. Biddle had become like a father to all of us, and what teenage boy doesn't argue with their dad. Throughout the day, he thought back to his freshman year. He had the opportunity to go with the Chapter to National Convention. That happened to be the year mine and Lauren's siblings were competing at Nationals. He remembered getting to watch their Final Four demonstration and thought, "I want to be them someday." As he told us this, it was like a shot to the heart, especially mine and Lauren's. Like us, he wanted to continue the legacy our siblings had started with Mr. Biddle. That was the kind of Chairman we wanted on our team. So we welcomed him back. (Poor Chris! Although he was relieved he didn't have to study as hard as we did.)

The following weekend we were having a well known National judge (from Missouri!) come observe us. (We referred to him as squatty, bald guy. Actually Biddle gave him that moniker, and we ran with it. Biddle has a great sense of humor!) He and Biddle knew each other well, and Biddle knew he'd shoot it to us straight.

Oh boy did squatty, bald guy hit us where it hurt! He informed us we needed about 30 more demonstrations before Nationals, and he didn't know how that would be possible. We did a second demonstration for him that night, so one down, 29 to go.

While squatty, bald man was blunt, he probably wasn't wrong. Little did he know of the debacle that had occurred earlier that week though. We were still ironing out our personal issues. However, we did take what he said to heart, and you better believe we set out to prove him wrong. We started tallying our demonstrations the next 2 weeks. I don't remember our final count, but I do know we got at least 30 more demonstrations before we hit stage at Nationals!

Brandon curled up with our 
ghetto blaster on the 
floor of the bus.
Nationals week finally arrived.

Monday we loaded up our short bus and headed to Indy. (Perks of a short bus, it has air conditioning and it was new. Disadvantage, it had no radio. We still get a kick out of Biddle's packing list for us. Amongst the essentials: FFA official dress, extra hosiery for girls, ties and ascots, and a ghetto blaster for the bus. Ghetto blaster?! We informed Biddle this was the 21st century; then continued calling it a ghetto blaster.)

MISSOURI!




Tuesday we adjusted to Indianapolis, made a Walmart run, had a picnic, and practiced. Then practiced some more.

Wednesday we had picture day, our written test, then more practicing.

Thursday would be Prelims.

Friday would be Semi-finals and Finals, back-to-back. Our goal was finals. Both teams Biddle had ever taken to Nationals had made the Final Four. We didn't want to be a disappointment. So the Final Four is where we set our sights.


Thursday, March 15, 2018

The Forgotten Second

Parli practice started in January. Lauren and I made the team along with our friends Avery, Trever, Brandon, Meagan, and our alternate, Chris. We practiced demonstrations most mornings before school, studied Robert's Rules of Order during our ag. classes, and practiced occasionally after school.

Beginning of April we had our first competition, Area. We placed 1st. Tipton placed 2nd. (Whew. One step closer to our goal.)

Mid-April was Districts. Again, we placed 1st. Tipton placed 2nd. We both advanced to State.

We had 2 weeks to prepare for State. By then we had added weekend practices.

Side Story: One weekend between Districts and State, two of the boys thought it would be funny to show up suuuper late for practice... they couldn't have been more wrong! They got a very stern lecture from Mr. Biddle and the cold shoulder from their 3 female teammates. (The wrath of Mr. Biddle probably hit them harder than our cold shoulders.)

Lauren and I were competitive and felt a weight on our shoulders to do well. We were concerned about how seriously the boys were in it to win it. (High school probs!)

Missouri State FFA Convention arrived. It was a rainy day. (Going back to our sibling's superstitions, this was great news! Each time they competed, some sort of force of nature had occurred, so we welcomed the rain.)

We made it through prelims and on to the Final 6. To ease our nerves in the waiting room before our final demonstration, the boys used the girls' heels as soccer balls. We think it threw off our competition. They sat nervously studying, looking at us like idiots, as we played soccer in the front of the room. (The girls' outlook had changed since the weeks leading up. By then we figured we knew all we could know!)

At some point, there was a loud crash of thunder that caused the entire building to shake. Our team squealed in excitement. Only adding to other teams thinking we were a bunch of bozos. Surely, this wasn't Eldon's team. They're known to be the best. (We later found out that thunder was actually an aftershock felt from an earthquake in Oklahoma.)

Our final demonstration ended. The wait began. (Parli is the only team that doesn't find out their placement until they are on stage in front of thousands of fellow FFA members during the evening session.)

While we waited, we ate lunch and discussed with Mr. Biddle how he thought we did and how we thought we did. The three concerns we had:
  1. We were way under on time. There wasn't a minimum time to use, but we were afraid that meant we should have debated better.
  2. We had forgotten to make a 2nd. We thought and hoped we had talked the judges into why that forgotten 2nd was indeed excusable. However, Meagan had, had a dream the night before that we placed 2nd (no Nationals for us). Therefore, we were certain that our forgotten 2nd was going to cause us to place 2nd.
  3. Tipton, our rival since Area competition, whose advisor was Eldon alum, had told Mr. Biddle they performed their best demonstration they had ever done.
After a very long afternoon it was time to head backstage at the Hearnes Center. As we approached the stage, Mr. Biddle headed a different direction. Seeing our confusion of his abandonment, he said he was going to watch from the floor in front. (That's weird, but Biddle wasn't known for doing normal things.) The seven of us stood on stage in front of thousands of people. To each side of us were our competitors. The announcement started.

6th place... not us. 5th place... Chillicothe. 4th place... not us. Our anticipation grew.

The man in the normal looking suit... Tipton's advisor.

3rd place... Troy FFA. Whew. Okay, here's our fate. 2nd place it is.


2nd place... Tipton FFA.

I'm thankful for the graciousness Tipton's
advisor showed us.

Screams. Hugs. More screams. More hugs. A blur. 


I'm sure at some point they announced, "1st place, the 2008 State Champions, Eldon FFA!" But we were too busy partying on stage, like we had just won the Super Bowl, to hear. (Since that moment, I've witnessed numerous other Parli teams win State. Not a one of them celebrate like we did. I'm not sure if we should be proud of our very genuine, overjoyed reaction, or ashamed because we looked foolish.)


They ushered us off to the side of the stage for a picture. I was in a daze. The next thing I knew, this bear of a man was jumping on stage and embraced me from the side. It was Mr. Biddle, beaming a smile from ear-to-ear. (He had accidentally found out how we placed beforehand. Since he knew, he wanted to have a front row view of our reaction. Boy did we give him a good show!) 


The next moments were pure chaos. We were all busy calling our parents. Lauren and I were also calling our siblings. We had to get pictures taken for archives. In some ways it really did feel like we had just won the Super Bowl. 

By the time we won State, the 7 of us high schoolers had spent more time with Mr. Biddle than we had our own parents, from January to April. He trusted us. Even more importantly, we trusted him.

Lauren and I had changed our mindsets. We no longer wanted to win for our own glory. We wanted to win it for Biddle. We wanted to continue HIS legacy. HE had earned it. HE deserved it.

By the time our heads hit the pillow that night, we were elated. We were sending Mr. Biddle to Nationals once again.

*I'm really thankful Lauren's older sister was there to capture our winning moment.