Who We Become
Flipping through the pages of the 1968 Tomahawk, I come to a grainy black/white photo of the SCHS Warriors football team.
In the back row is a lanky David Sherrard (88). He was president of our senior class and my escort for Homecoming. I still remember our laughing as we tromped—David in his cleats, me in my heels—across the mushy, mangled field for half-time ceremonies. Today, he’s a respected leader in his church, a grandfather and a long-time employee of Rathbun Rural Water—a program that has greatly improved everyday life for residents of Iowa’s Wayne and Appanoose Counties.
Front and center is Marvin Tuttle (77). He and I traveled together from Alice McMurry’s kindergarten in Promise City through junior college graduation in Centerville. Marvin went on to be named Teacher of the Year in Prairie City, where he taught business courses to students who—decades later—still write on Facebook that “Tut was the best.”
To Marvin’s left is David Snider (78), a quiet guy and my first boyfriend. He and his wife Dottie rebuild award-winning cars and help make the auto competition at Seymour’s annual Old Settlers’ Reunion a success. They’ve also resurrected a battered building on the town square, providing a cornerstone structure as solid as they are. Seeing David and Dottie in the pouring rain at my father’s 2009 graveside services is a memory of friendship I will never forget.
We kids are now more than 40 years past the single year that yearbook captured. When the guy with the mustache and glasses from Brown’s Studio stood on his ladder to shoot the images between its covers, none of us had a clue who we would become…or what would become of us. The Vietnam conflict was raging, and all these guys were registering for the draft. Martin Luther King, Jr., would be killed that coming spring; Bobby Kennedy, that summer.
But for all we didn’t know, I believe we shared the sense we wanted to give something of ourselves to others and the world.
Looks like we just may be getting there.