Remembering Passion

While walking the dog in the bitter cold winds, there in the dark recesses of my mind I spied a time and a person where I first experienced passion from the heart.  I saw myself, age eight, wearing a black leotard in the winter and climbing the steps to the second story dance studio where the heater didn't begin to warm the rooms. I shivered, but only for a moment.  Once she placed the

Virginia Lee Wilson. 

needle on the record, our bodies began to stretch and glide.  












Where did you first learn or see passion?

There she stood, not much taller than I stood in fourth grade,

Tom, Virginia, Tom Pat, Bobby Wilson.

clicking, tapping, shouting, demanding, and then guiding, repeating, and teaching us dance steps. We learned how to tap dance, glide pose, bend like a ballerina,  follow the footsteps of a partner in ballroom dancing, and move our bodies in rhythmic physical steps to the different beats of jazzy tunes. Every step she walked modeled passion; her passionate love of dance, of music, and most certainly of life.  Her passion may have shown itself in her feet, her moves, but truly it radiated from her heart. 

She also spent hours outside of her studio coaching, training, and

Norse Stars, NEO Drill Team 1953 

drilling a group of young ladies known as the Norse Stars.  During the 1950's and 1960's, we competed against the Kilgore Rangerettes ( History of Kilgore Rangerettes, Tyler Texas  Apache Belles (History of the Belles) for the best drill team in the nation.  Our performances placed us on center stage of the NEO football games, basketball games, NJCAA National Basketball tournament in Hutchinson, Ks., and parades. Through it all she pressed upon us the importance of drill, repetition, practice, and "smiling."  (Mrs. Sandmire was always there to add lipstick.) There were no goodies, rewards, or trinkets given for performances. She simply expected and demanded our best, and we willinging followed her lead, like trained dancers. I can't speak for others, but I most certainly dreamed of being a Rockette and performing in the Macy's Parade in NYC. 

I didn't grow up to be a professional dancer like some of her students, but I learned what Virginia Lee Wilson taught, that passion is powerful, and when we lead with passion from the heart we can make a difference.  

That dream and passion instilled from Virginia Lee made a difference throughout my life.  Most recently, on a family trip to New York City we spent an evening enjoying the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. 

How has passion made a difference in your life?

Golf Gypsy: the Secret to Staying Young

Lois Cowles' 80th birthday w/ Carol. 

To this day, I can hear Lois's light pitched voice, her giggle, and stories of life. She was the consummate teacher. Lois knew about life, love, lose, and the Secret to Staying Young.

Lois Cowles, who raised three curious energetic and productive daughters from Miami, Ok, also, taught Kindergarten at Jefferson Elementary in Norman, Ok, for two decades.  She lived by the belief, that the

Jefferson puppeteers.

secret to staying young was to surround yourself with young people. Every spring break she would take a trip to Florida to meet friends from Ohio, and come back talking about how old they seemed to her.  I've never forgotten Lois, nor her words.  Any coach or teacher will agree that children and young people are the secret to living and laughing with glee.  

In my attempt to stay young at heart, I recently played in the 100th celebration of WOGA, and on day two I met and lost to a determined "Flat Belly" (our term of endearment for youthful women golfers.) 

The look of youth.

  
Kennedy Hudson, who just completed her first year of college at Northeastern State University and will be playing on the women's golf team, impressed me with her focus and ability to pull herself together after this old

Letty and Kennedy

woman had her down at the turn (in other words I could have won the match, but for focus, youth, determination,  and ability).  She went on to win our flight the next day.  She delighted me with her skills and attitude about golf, so I asked her how she came to be a golfer.  This is her story. 

I started playing golf because my mother forced me into the sport, and our deal was if I went a full year of golf and didn't like it then I could quit.  On the first day of golf practice that January my coach, Ken Morrow, told me to grab my 7 iron, and I was totally confused.  He could see my confusion and told me that it was the club with the upside down L on it. After I took my first swing, I fell in love with the game and realized that I could be someone in this sport.  My first tournament was in March of that year, and I shot a 122.  I was crying by the third hole.  That year I was consistent in the 120's, and by my sophomore year I was consistent in the 90's.  By my Junior and Senior year I was consistently playing in the 80's. My skills were strong enough to be recruited by Northeastern State University where I redshirted my freshman year of college, so I could continue to improve on my course management and shot making. 

What I enjoy most about golf happens when I step on the course and my stress completely melts away.  All I have to do is focus on my swing.  I never realized that golf could teach life lessons, but it has taught me to leave behind whatever is in the past, and focus on what is going on right then and there. If I continue to think about a bad hole or bad shot then I'm not giving my full effort to the shot I'm about it hit.  It has taken me many years to learn that lesson, but I feel like its the most important one.  I love the feeling of competing against myself and the golf course. Sometimes when playing against someone it can bring out the bitterness in me to try a beat another person, that's why it's important to focus on the shot, the course, and the moment. 

Thank heavens for mother's who push their children into life, and for children who keep the adults young at heart.  

Rudolph's Red Nose

The winter, that Rudolph guided us home on the night before Christmas, began with a week of snowy winter days wrapped in fog, with clouds of drizzling mist that kept us shivering on the cold Kansas plains in Greensburg. The long drive across the state to Miami, Oklahoma was daunting on nights such as this, and I was often exhausted from teaching.

Beauty and the Bleakness on the prairie

On Dec. 24, 1976 school was dismissed at 2:00, an early release was quite a bonus.  Because the weather had been so questionable, we decided to caravan with another teacher and her husband (Dennie and Karen Smith) across the state, where they'd meet up with family near Coffeyville, and we'd drive on into Miami if the weather and the roads allowed it  We packed our 1975 little green Toyota Celica with winter clothes, blankets, Dr. Pepper, water, food, a few packages, and our beloved Cairn terrier, Squirty. 

Squirty and Frisky

The weather stayed dreary then dark prevailed. After Augusta the old black asphalt highway narrowed to two lanes and the headlights barely showed the tail lights of the sleek red Camaro that we were following. Somewhere near Sedan (on the old highway) I lost our caravan, so we made one last stop at a dirty battered gas station.  Afraid I'd get sleepy, I washed my face and kept the wet towel handy in the car for spills and to splash my face.  

With only a radio to keep us company we listened to the "Old Time" radio shows out of a Coffeyville station, and laughed at "Fibber McGee and Molly" and "George and Gracie Burns." Suddenly, I realized that we were the only people on the road, and our sight was limited by the low clouds and fog lining the bar ditches along old highway 166.  Even going 55mph seemed dangerous, but the slower I drove the longer the night.

Somewhere over a field Katy noticed a blinking red light up above and cried out, "Mommy, there's Rudolph.  I bet he's going to the farm."  Then like a tiny miracle I, too, saw that twinkling light.  Even though my mind knew it was a small airplane, my heart really felt the presence of life and hope. I opened my heart, released my fears, and let Rudolph's red nose guide us home safely to my parents farm.   

An hour later, we pulled into a star lite night on the farm with my parents outside to greet us. Katy leaped from the car and ran to gramps shouting, "Has Rudolph been here yet?"  To which my dad gleefully smiled, "You just missed him Kitten. He and Santa flew away just before you arrived."  

Jumping up and down in excitement Katy continued, "I knew it, I knew it.  I saw Rudolph's nose in the sky, and he showed momma how to find the farm."  

Katy's Christmas dolls.

Aunt Jonya listens to Katy's story.