It’s another hot August day – but not just any day. It is the 294th anniversary (24.5 years since 1999) of the first “date” with my current wife. It was actually more of a business meeting, since we worked together at WISH-TV, but it ultimately led to other things. We didn’t get married for another two years, but it was the beginning of our “love streak” of now 8,947 days (the running streak is only 5,336 days). I can’t help it – I like to count days!

It was not love at first sight since I had known her since working in Fort Wayne back in the mid-eighties. My first marriage was falling apart after 27-years, so I was vulnerable, and moved out on my own soon after. It’s impossible to explain the how’s and why’s these things happen, but in simple terms I fell in love again. I do not regret the circumstances. It’s what we like to call a re-do. 

The meeting took place on an 8th at Eddy’s, a restaurant near Geist Reservoir in Indianapolis. It still exists today, and we’ve eaten there several times since. Every 8th of the month, we celebrate this union that led to marriage on 4/20/2001. In the course of our romance, there is our wedding anniversary, and then these monthly occasions that I like to call our “Eddiversary” or “Eightiversary.” (See Post #1768).

I crudely drew a series of three calendars that highlight the early days of our relationship. We had them framed to display privately on our master bathroom wall. This way I can create an anniversary out of essentially everything we did together. From that point on, I then kept a written diary of nearly every day together. It exists on my computer, so I continue to update it. Poems and other memories are kept both on the computer and in notebooks on my office shelves. There are also poems to her hidden in the gifted Limoges Boxes that make up her collection. In these many ways, my love for her is forever preserved. 

Eight is the date,

When our love sparked.

Every month since,

Is carefully marked.

Calendars, Diaries,

And poems like this.

Last much longer,

Than a kiss. 

It started at Eddy’s, 

Grown every day since.

Like every great fortune,

It started with a cent.

Now it is priceless, 

Memories preserved. 

A life together,

That we both deserved. 

We call it a re-do,

But it’s so much more. 

A tribute to the woman,

That I adore. 

An annual celebration,

Just wasn’t ample. 

But daily reminders, 

A better example. 

The 8th is special, 

Jan thru December. 

Though Every single day, 

Together, I remember.

Can’t say it enough, 

That “I Love You.” 

Happy Half Eddiversary,

Let’s start today anew! 

Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com

I was never one to seek out or stalk celebrities. I respect their privacy and often don’t even notice when they pass by. In most cases, It usually takes someone to say, “Hey, there’s so and so or isn’t that….”  I’m not one for autographs or photographs, so those famous are relatively safe around me. However, being in the media business most of my life, I’ve had many close encounters despite my shyness and reserved nature. With all this in mind, let’s do a little name dropping!

I would say that one of my first celebrity encounters was with my dad and his friend who took me to lunch with a Philadelphia Phillies baseball catcher by the name of Jim Coker. Oddly enough, a guy I met the other day at a baseball card show asked me to buy one of his cards. He didn’t know the player but liked the looks of it. Honestly, I was reluctant to let it go, but had another in my collection. As I write this, I’m surrounded in my office by autographs and photos of mostly sports celebrities, but also a few favorite authors, like Dennis Lehane who wrote Shutter Island that I met at a book signing at Powell’s in Portland. Unlike this particular instance, most of my personalized signatures I didn’t personally ask for myself. Instead, I’ve gotten them as gifts through the years. 

I have had my share of personal encounters with athletes, having worked closely with the Purdue Boilermakers, Indiana Pacers and Indianapolis Colts. My favorite teams are from Indiana University but only I.U. basketball’s Steve Alford, Mike Davis, and Kent Benson have autographed something for me. I met Coach Bob Knight at the Maui Classic and spent some time talking with him at a political fundraiser down in Austin. Purdue’s Coach Gene Keady, who will soon be a member of the Basketball Hall of Fame, was a regular at my Lafayette TV station, WLFI, for the production of his weekly coaches show, as was football’s Joe Tiller, so there were always players available to meet. Most of them I honestly don’t remember or even made an effort to approach except for Drew Brees. After all, I was a Hoosier fan at heart and they were the frenemy but important to my business. Same was true when I talked with Coach Bruce Weber at the University of Illinois and met one of his earlier predecessors, Lou Henson, in our WISH-TV suite.

As for the Colts and Pacers, I attended many a media day and took clients to training camps for many years. Peyton Manning and Billy Brooks were my favorites, although I also met Jeff George at the station and did commercial shoots with most all of them including the most recent coach and former player, Jeff Saturday. Pacers’ legend Reggie Miller was a regular at our gym, Peak Performance. My favorite pro team is the Bears, and I was fortunate to meet Dick Butkus after his playing career was over. He was on a committee with me in Decatur to promote extension of Illinois Highway 51, his jersey number at Illinois and Chicago. I also shook the meaty hand of Mike Ditka at an Illinois Broadcasters event. The Bears were originally founded as the Decatur Staleys. 

I never met Michael Jackson or saw his signature moonwalk live, but I did serve on the board of Imagination Station in Lafayette alongside Purdue Astronaut Gene Cernan, the last man to actually walk on the moon to this date. I’m also not much of a foodie but did enjoy taking a cooking class at Marshall Fields in Chicago with Rick Bayless, founder of Frontera restaurant. We have his autographed cookbook. 

My television career put me face to face with several Network on-air talents like David Letterman, Jane Pauley, Dan Rather, and Tom Brokaw, not to mention working with many local TV celebrities. Letterman’s fame spread to the racetrack where I also met 4-time winner A,J. Foyt, rode in a 2-seater with Mario Andretti, rubbed elbows with owner and Hollywood idol Paul Newman, met the great Roger Penske, and was teammates with Pancho Carter, Roberto Guerrero, and Kevin Cogan, among others. I once spent a sleepless night on the motel balcony next to Bobby Rahal just outside the Michigan International Speedway. I also went jet skiing with the entire Unser family on a race weekend. One of my Indy highlights was being transported by helicopter to and from the track with my WISH-TV guests, cellular tycoons Craig and Wendy McCaw. We watched the race from the Hullman Suite. 

Racing took me all over the country to sites like Long Beach, Monterey, Portland, Mid-Ohio, Texas Motor Speedway, Elkhart Lake, Milwaukee, and nearby Raceway Park in Indy for the U.S. National Drags where I met female speed legend, Shirley “Cha-Cha” Muldowney. Other fast women that I chatted with at racetracks were Lyn St. James and Danica Patrick. Throughout this time, I was lucky to have worked with the Derek Daly family, whose son Conor carries on their speed legacy. They introduced me to many of the big-time players in the sport at their home and in their trackside suites. Last but not least, I was able to treat my family to a day at the Daytona 500 where we encountered Clint Bowyer in the pit area. I asked him for an autograph for the grandkids not knowing who he was but recently recognized him as a FOX commentator for this year’s race. I was eventually gifted with the autographed ticket in a shadow box of his racing highlights. 

The Indianapolis Motor Speedway was where I spent most of the month of May every year. I have a rather unique “Thanks for the Mousepitality” framed poster that hangs on the wall to remind me of when Disney came to the Speedway as my guest. They parked their performance semi next to our WISH-TV studios because they couldn’t get into the track, while the Indianapolis Star accused us of “Whoring with the Mouse.” I did several meet-and-greets with the characters and live performances around town, discovering that Mickey was really a girl, Minnie was a smoker, and all three of them, including Pluto, were Teamsters. It all culminated with the live unveiling of the 1992 Cadillac Allente pace car.

The annual Indianapolis 500 ball was a great opportunity to meet the stars, and we usually had a prime table. Next to us one year were very approachable Morgan Freeman and Patrick Dempsey. Other major sporting events in Indy like the Final Four also gave me the chance to meet Ray Romano, Kevin Costner, and Conan O’Brien. I also got a chance to talk to Mohammad Ali in a concession line. In 1997, the USA Track and Field Championships came to Indianapolis, and I was able to meet and get autographs from eventual Olympic champions Michael Johnson and Gail Devers. I still have the framed, signed poster in my collection. In 1991, Indianapolis also hosted the PGA Championship at Crooked Stick in Carmel where John Daly was the surprising victor. I had media credentials and watched the celebration, just as I had in 1988 at Bush Stadium (now Victory Field) when the Indianapolis Indians won it all behind the pitching of Randy Johnson. 

Annual CBS & NBC meetings in Las Vegas or New York put me in front of Hollywood’s finest such as Ruppert Boneham from Survivor and Mariska Hargity of Law & Order. The Who played the CSI theme “Don’t Get Fooled Again” and then joined us for the cocktail party where I got to exchange a few words. While in the Big Apple I also went to Martha Stewart’s studio to meet her and watch her cooking show with guest star S. Epatha Merkerson of Law & Order fame. While at the Broadway show, Hairspray, I got into a conversation at intermission with Henry Winkler, “The Fonz.” One evening while walking back to our hotel from meetings, I spotted Murder She Wrote star Angela Lansbury checking out of the Parker hotel.  Our hotel, The Rihga Royal was directly across the street from the Robert Morris talent agency where vocalists like Alicia Keyes, John Popper, and Olivia Newton John often frequented. 

One of my most memorable Radio promotions took place in Ft. Wayne, Indiana with the movie E.T. My son and I spent the day with Drew Barrymore, since they were both about the same young age. I also took him backstage to meet Gene Simmons and KISS before a concert and interacted with Jon Anderson of YES for a live radio interview on WMEE. I helped organize a Summer Concert Tour and spent many performances with the artists on stage and behind the scenes, but none were apparently as memorable as these. 

Contestant searches were a big part of my promotional responsibilities in TV.  The two biggest were Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune. I spent a lot of time with Alex Trebek, Pat Sajek, and Vanna White. Ray Charles and the Pepsi girls once visited our studios for a commercial shoot for “You Got the Right One, Baby!” We created some :04 second IDs for on-air use. Back in my radio days, I spent the day with Bob “In the Butt” Eubanks doing store appearances for The Dating Game. 

When I was a kid, attending Indiana Junior Basketball Camp, I first met Meadowlark Lemon as a celebrity counselor. While in sales at WMEE, I played in an exhibition game against his Harlem Globetrotters where I also met “Curley” Neal and Marques Haynes. Another basketball idol of mine, George McGinnis, came to a party at my Bloomington apartment with two other Hoosier teammates Joby Wright and Ed Daniels. I then met Larry Bird at a golf outing, one of many that I was invited to play. Michigan State basketball coaches, Judd Heathcoat and Tom Izzo, were part of a pep rally I attended in East Lansing, wearing red I.U. gear that they were quick to tease me about. Current Alabama football coach, Nick Saban, was also a quick conversation at that Spartan event before he guided his team to a comeback M.S.U. overtime victory over my Hoosiers. It was just part of my O for East Lansing bad fortune throughout the years. 

With regard to the movies, Matt Damon and crew came to our WAND TV studios during filming of The Informant. They borrowed some equipment for the shoot. Sean Connery, James Bond, I met in the lobby of London’s Grosvenor Hotel during the BBC broadcast of the British Academy Awards. The movie Blue Chips premiered in Bloomington, so I was introduced to Nick Nolte at the red carpet showing. I said hello to American Pie’s Eugene Levy on the Wailea walking path while in Maui and to Matthew McConaughey in a U.T. football suite while in Austin. David Schwimmer of Friends dined next to me in a Bellagio restaurant, and I couldn’t resist the urge to say hello under the influence of good wine. Jim Belushi tried to cut in the security line in front of me in Las Vegas but didn’t recognize him in his Cubs hat until he sat next to us on the tram.

I spent some time in Austin as a cast extra in three television productions and would often speak and dine with the main cast members The first was Friday Night Lights with Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton, Jesse Plemons, and Buddy Garrity. I had several different roles including a member of the school board, as a customer at an auto dealership, and in the crowd as a Panthers fan. The second filming was Revolution where they aged my borrowed clothing with mud and dirt.  Finally, I was in a couple scenes of Grimm with Bitsie Tulloch.  Most of my many hours of minimum wage pay were spent just patiently waiting and many scenes were cut, but it was a fun experience of being close to stardom. 

I’ve already mentioned several musical encounters, as there have been many random sightings throughout my career. John Cougar Mellencamp I’ve spoken to at I.U. basketball games. John McKay of Steppenwolf was on plane with me from Las Vegas. Country artist, Jason Aldean, was part of a John Deer tractor giveaway that I set up in Portland while with Alpha Media. B.B. King, with his trusty guitar Lucille, I reached out to at the VIP door of the Cincy coliseum after a show. Mick Fleetwood – I acknowledged at his Maui restaurant, Fleetwood’s on Front Street along with his dinner guests Z.Z. Topp. Grace Slick answered questions live as part of her artwork display in an Austin store. Her biggest regret: Not doing Jimi Hendrix! Alice Cooper – I met in the early 70s while playing at a Ft. Lauderdale motel venue as Vince Furnier. Many years later I watched him do his syndicated radio show in the Alpha Radio studios. Mary Travers of Peter, Paul, & Mary asked me where the bathrooms were at our WISH-TV offices. 

Back to baseball, Scott Rolen is the son-in-law of my WISH-TV boss and soon to be a Hall of Fame inductee in Cooperstown. Ryne Sandburg of the Cubs once accidently kicked over my friend’s beer at Wrigley Field and signed his empty cup. Two former Dodger managers have crossed my path after meeting recently deceased Tommy Lasorda in a Dodger Stadium suite and sitting with Walter Alston’s family behind the dugout at Wrigley. My friend, his nephew, introduced me after the game. Another former Cub, shortstop Don Kessinger joined me and his agency buddy for lunch in Indy. Lastly on the baseball front, I met with legendary fireballer Nolen Ryan, not as a player but as owner of R Bank and The Roundrock Express in Austin. 

Final encounters worth mentioning include Illinois Senators Barak Obama and John McCain at the Capital Building in D.C. while on a Decatur Chamber of Conference trip.  Donald Trump tried to beat me to an empty phone booth in a Boston hotel. He was the speaker at a business conference long before cell phones, The Apprentice, and being elected President. I somehow recognized his name on the badge of colorful ribbons he was wearing and offered to let him go first. JFK, Jr. spoke as a representative of George Magazine at a San Diego Ad Club convention. I got to meet him at the reception following, fighting off all the adoring women who were obviously anxious to get close. Lance Armstrong was a frequent Austin sighting that I shook hands with at a Livestrong Cancer fundraiser. A friendly Heavyweight Champion, George Foreman, was holding court in the Watergate Hotel during one of my many visits to the city. Raymond Floyd had breakfast with me during the Grand Opening of his Redtail Golf Course in Fort Wayne.

In retirement, I miss the access to free tickets, suite seats, backstage passes, celebrity golf outings, credentials, fundraisers, and press favoritism. There are no more company paid conventions, business trips, fine dining experiences, or reasons to meet the rich and famous. I felt some sense of celebrity just being in the media business, but now all that’s left are great memories that I’m happy to share. I felt the need to write down all that I can remember because soon they will be forever forgotten. 

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I started going to Siesta Key in the 1970s with the McClure family – Phil and Marge owned a condo at the Jamaica Royale on Midnight Pass Road. Phil claimed to be one of the earliest settlers on the island, liking himself to the Mayflower party. Every 4th of July the entire family would make their way to Florida for a reunion. T-shirts would be printed with a McTheme, games organized, and tans compared. Non-family members would also join in the fun, adding their creative touches to the festivities. Wimbledon was on TV, powerboat races offshore, and the Summer Olympics were a factor every four years. Restaurants like Phillippi Creek, Hooter’s, Captain Kirk’s, and The Oyster Bar hosted our frequent dinners out. Big Olaf’s was the traditional ice cream stop. 

At that time, the Surf & Racquet Club (we called it the Sex and Racquet Club) was probably the tallest building on the island, located next door to our complex. Most all these places still exist today but the traffic has the island at a standstill and as a result we avoid going there. The white sand beaches keep Siesta Key highly ranked in even the worldwide popularity polls. 

I once envisioned Siesta Key as my retirement spot and consequently bought a condo at the Jamaica Royale, just down the row from Phil and Marge. As fortunes changed through the years, I find myself just 22-miles south, finally living that Florida dream. Coincidentally, it’s right between where my grandparents wintered in Englewood and the McClure settlement. Phil and Marge have since passed and we’re not right on the beach but close enough to get there when we want. My son is also nearby, settling in this area long before I ever did. As a result, any 4th of July family reunions remain in Florida.

The month of June is all about dad’s – those that were lucky enough to be called that special word and those who never got a chance. It all culminates on the Fourth of July with the celebration of independence, starting in May with Memorial Day, leading into D-Day, Flag Day, and Father’s Day. For me, the “D” in D-Day is for DAD – two grandfathers that I remember served, along with a bio-father, the father who adopted me, and fathers-in-law. When I see an American flag, I think of the sacrifices they made for me, as part of millions of men and women who fought and died for our country. They all made it possible for me to be a father, stepfather, and grandfather. Thank you for your service!

I also think of all those young men that died in battle, never met the right woman, or couldn’t have children. They never got to be a Dad, one of the greatest gifts in the world. Some of them were lucky enough to own pets, another way to be a Papa. I’m dad to a schnauzer named Tally, with fond memories of Tinker, Roxie, Belle, Gizmo, and Smiley. I also lovingly remember the “kitty committee” that my wife brought to our marriage. (See Post #312). I also dare not forget that June is her birthday month and often inconveniently falls on the same day as Father’s Day. 

I got a new pair of Tommy Bahama swim trunks, a card, texts, and e-mails to honor my special day this year. Half my family on the West Coast isn’t even awake yet. I did my 5k run this morning in the rain, pulled some nasty weeds, started a load of laundry, and helped set up our upholstery cleaner – much more than I normally contribute on a Sunday. I await my favorite meals, sausage & eggs for brunch and a grilled cheeseburger with blue cheese dressing on a bed of lettuce for dinner. The much-needed rain continues to fall, as I settle in for an afternoon of baseball, reminiscing about a 2018 trip to the College World Series in Omaha (I’m wearing the t-shirt) and several Dad’s Days at Wrigley Field, with father and son. 

I’m hoping to answer the many questions I’ve been asked recently by my family about heartbreak, personal influences, mid-life, regrets, and accomplishments. These plusses and negatives of life all need to be part of my Storyworth. I also gives me an opportunity to teach some tough lessons to the next Johnston generations. By the way, I purposely wrote this to be a long chapter, knowing that my grandkids will probably never read it all. 

I want to blame the stringent, especially in the early 1950s, adoption process for not ever being close with my folks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that they wanted me to be part of their family and provided unlimited love and opportunities, but it was never a natural bond, much like an arranged marriage. I felt pressure to be perfect, as they tried to prove to adoption officials that they were worthy of my care, and I wish that I had been more honest with myself and them.  I hid most of my failures and things that I feared they might disapprove of hearing, while more than anxious to share any success. They stood by me at all times, despite my learning the following lesson too late in life: Through good or bad times, parents are your biggest supporters. 

I also blatantly wasted the money they provided for my education, getting by with little or no effort. I did not study, missed classes, and didn’t pay attention. I did get mostly Bs but could have done better, especially now understanding the great expense of a college education. All along, I never had to worry about money growing up, but really didn’t care about cars, clothes, fancy food, or booze. Going to concerts was my sole ambition and sadly drugs were my greatest vice. 

Knowing what I know now, I would strongly discourage young people from using drugs, a total waste of money and brain power. Unfortunately, my generation was not made aware of these inherent dangers, or perhaps never paid attention, while exposure was rampant, especially on campus and in Viet Nam. Getting involved with drugs is the only regret of my life, and something I will not detail. It’s embarrassing to even mention, but an important part of the culture of the late 60s, influenced by the music and events of the times. As an immature, not yet twenty-one-year-old adult, I easily folded to peer pressure and paid the penalty. 

The day-to-day examples of kindness, respect, inclusiveness, and hard work my parents and grandparents demonstrated were by far the biggest influencers on my young life. Two male neighbors, Jim Krider and Jack Lohman became older role models. Jim lost a leg in a motorcycle accident and showed positive resilience, while Jack got me involved in Little League baseball. I played sports like basketball, wrestled, and ran track in grade school, but one season of organized baseball led to softball and decades of media league enjoyment. 

I also think of other kids that I tried to emulate in grade school like athletic Gary Elliott, popular Steve Swihart, or brainy Grant Balkema indirectly influenced my behavior, although none of them probably never knew. I also grew to despise Ned Markey who was one of many bullies that haunted my childhood playgrounds. 

By the time I reached forty in 1991, I was prosperous, successful, and content. We bought an Indianapolis home in Castillia. Marcia and my careers were blossoming, and we were first experiencing life as dual earners and empty nesters. We enjoyed travel to Las Vegas, England, France, Hong Kong, Italy and Hawaii. I was also doing a lot of skiing and still in great shape, working out at the gym and running competitively. Both of my parents were doing well back then, at only a few years older than I am now. 

It was frankly heartbreaking to see our marriage of twenty-seven years come to an abrupt end at the beginning of my 50s, but a second chance at life was about to begin. With the additional heartache of my parents’ passing, I’m proud to have built a family of now eleven, including my wife, two stepdaughters, their husbands, and three grandkids. I’m also pleased to see that my son and his wife, about to begin the final stage in becoming a doctor, renew their 10-year marriage vows. So concludes the toughest chapter, so far, of my life story I’ve been asked to write. 

I grew up in an era when awards weren’t issued simply for participation, so there was no trophy shelf in my bedroom growing up. My primary athletic skill was speed since I was small and skinny entering my teen years. I didn’t really have a growth spurt until later in high school. I fondly remember winning a grade school 50-yard dash in a track meet, establishing me as one of the fastest in the city but could not sustain this for any distance. Basketball and track were my sports, but I was only slightly better than average. At least I could outmaneuver others in flag football, and this proved beneficial in college intramurals when our freshman dorm team won the league championship. I also tried wrestling in high school but turned out to be nothing but a tackling dummy on two state championship teams. 

I played a lot of ping pong and pool in the basement of the house and became proficient in both. These skills came in handy in college, particularly at the fraternity house, with an occasional winning bet that was always more rewarding than a trophy or ribbon. I attended Junior Basketball Camp for four years, hoping to improve my basketball skills but that provided futile. However, I did manage to win several blue ribbons for free throw shooting, frisbee, ping pong, and the talent show. As I took up distance running in my twenties, I also won a blue ribbon for my age group in a 10k, but that was probably because it was held in sub-zero conditions with very few competitors. All of these ribbons must have been important to me because I still have them in what I call my “Crapbook.”

Come to think of it, I might have also received a grade school perfect attendance award, but sadly I never got selected for crossing guard duty. One summer our neighbor talked me into joining the little league baseball team that he coached. Since I had never played organized baseball before, he put me out in right field where I could do the least damage. In my mind, I made a game saving, diving catch. In later years, without much of an arm but a good bat, I continued to play right field or second base in the media softball leagues where several team trophies were earned. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an individual sports trophy. I also tried playing golf one summer and spent a lot of time at the country club. Even though I did break 100 and got a new set of clubs from my dad for doing so, I found golf to be boring and frustrating. 

The only honor I earned through high school was an “E” for Elkhart High School in choir. I still have it with a couple of silver medals attached for solos performed in the state competition. I never got an “R” for Rice Elementary School, a “B” for Beardsley, or an “N” for North Side Junior High, although I participated on their teams but apparently was never worthy of a letter. Only starters earned the right to wear a letter sweater, while I sweated just to keep up with these “studs.”

I was a good student, making the National Honor Society, but never tried very hard or studied much. An afterschool program called Junior Achievement proved to be my forte, winning Salesperson of the Year along with other awards, including a small scholarship. Sales and business skills, along with self-confidence, learned in this 4-year program proved to be an asset throughout my career. I paid this back by serving on the Board of Directors of JA for many years. I do have a plaque for that! 

I’ve never had much luck with motors and mechanics, starting with my very first car that had trouble doing just that. Before this first purchase, I drove my dad’s cars in high school, with no interest in motorcycles or scooters. My driver’s test took place in his 1965 Mustang convertible, and I snuck away to California in his Ford Galaxie. The wood-side-paneled Country Squire station wagon was our vacation and go-to-Church car, while I used it a couple of times to cruise Main Street. We packed it up as a family and dropped me off at Albion College where several of my fellow classmates had their own car. Without access to one of my own, I also did some hitchhiking back then, mainly down to Indiana University for weekend getaways. 

I bought my own car in 1972, a brand new, bright red, Triumph GT6 fastback model, with a little help from my parents, after transferring to IU. It looked good on the outside, but the dual carburetors could not handle the icy, Indiana winters. It had trouble starting in the mornings and became a frustrating problem getting to classes on time. I took it into an automotive shop and learned a valuable lesson about buying sports cars that probably saved me thousands over the course of time. I dropped the car off in the evening after spending the day trying to get it going and instructed them to keep it inside for the night. The repair bill included a towing charge because they left it in the lot for the night. I refused to pay and was further infuriated when the mechanic told me that “anybody that can afford a car like this can pay the extra fee.” Going forward in life, all I ever wanted was a car that was reliable and affordable. But first, I wanted to get rid of this one.

The Triumph took me on a memorable drive to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but after a year of marriage, it continued to give us problems in the winter and severely tested my mechanical ineptness, so I begged Marcia to trade it in on something. She came home with a used Gremlin, proving that her taste in cars wasn’t much better than mine. It was just another lemon, but we soon settled on a Volkswagen Beetle that changed my whole attitude about cars. It got great gas mileage, could get through the snow, and started without fail. We also had a Dodge van that she used for the Hall of Ivy plant business. Despite this streak of carefree motoring, I was able to avoid buying a boat, but I did have some misfortune with a snowmobile that broke down in the woods and was left to rust. 

When I went to work at WTRC Radio, I developed a great relationship with the owner of a Buick dealership and bought several cars from him, including a Skylark and Regal. As I got into management, I was fortunate to drive company-owned cars for most of the remainder of my career, The first was a Jeep, followed by a Honda SUV, and finally a Toyota Camry. I then married a woman that loved driving her reliable Lexus but wanted a convertible, so our second car became a red 2011 Solara that we bought while living in Austin. However, she quickly passed it on to me once she eyed a used 2005 Gold, Lexus SC430, hard-top convertible that we still own in Florida. Just recently, we traded in the Solara for an electric golf cart, hopefully limiting my exposure to automotive problems and all things motorized. 

My nickname growing up was “Smiley,” given to me at summer basketball camp by a guy a came to despise. The name was probably appropriate, considering the wide grin that was seemingly plastered on my face at all times. I was never much of a talker, so the smile was a quiet expression of my shy nature. One of the bullies in my school was using it to mock me and it quickly caught on with the other campers. I was horrified, and remember feeling relieved when camp was over, thinking that I would gladly never hear it again. However, I ran into the guy that coined the name later that summer at a movie, and he began to taunt me again. “Hey, Smileeee, give me a Smiley smile!” or “let’s see that smile, Smileeee.” If he could have only seen the hatred in my eyes but found great delight in drawing out the final vowel in an obnoxious way. Others followed his cruel lead. By the time school started, everyone knew me as “Smiley.” Since then, I’ve been called much worse names in life. 

I think that my fellow classmates thought that it was my given first name or my last name and never realized it was a playful, silly gibe, or the bully’s insult as it was intended, in my mind. Even though the use of the name seemed to anger me, my only reaction was sadly an uncomfortable smile, reinforcing the behavior to others. I never expressed my feelings about its use or confronted anyone who called me such. I saw it as confusing, personally embarrassing, and disrespectful, so I refused to call myself “Smiley.” As a result, I rarely used the phone since no one seemed to remember that my real name was Mike. “Hi, this is Mike.” “Who?”

Mike no longer existed, and smiles weren’t as frequent, as I continued my internal fight against having a stupid nickname. It made me think of the song, “Tears of a Clown.” In retrospect, I could have simply adopted the name. At least other classmates knew who I was, when I could have been just another Mike. It was so well known that I could have probably won a school election, or better yet created my own “Smiley” face and capitalized on its marketing. Instead, I cringed every time someone used that reference, and envisioned putting a bloody smile on its inventor’s face. 

All these years later, I still run across former classmates who knew me as “Smiley,” and by habit call me such. At one point in my first marriage, my wife and I owned a golden retriever that we named Smiley. It somehow seemed more appropriate for a pet and ended my nickname torment. If friends came to our house and called for “Smiley,” they usually got a friendly, wet tongue and a lapful of fur. It made me smile, again!

As I tell my Storyworth, for what it’s worth, I get weekly prompts on what my family wants to know about my life (to include in the Christmas book). Some of these suggestions I feel that I have covered in the many articles that I’ve already written, while others only require a short explanation. For example, inquiring Johnston minds want to know some of the high school organizations where I was involved back in the late ‘60s and what inspires me. 

I just picked up grandson Gavyn from school this afternoon and we talked about his work with the art and yearbook clubs. I’m glad he’s found a couple of projects to keep him engaged with his classmates, building high school memories. My high school friend, Tim, is coming to visit this weekend. We were both on the track and wrestling teams when we graduated 54-years ago. Maybe Gavyn will find a similar lifelong bond in one of his clubs?

A few weeks ago, out of the blue, I received a Facetime call from another long-lost high school friend. Alan and I were in the choir together, although he was a much more talented musician.  Concert Choir was a credited school subject, but many after-school hours were spent rehearsing for concerts, singing at holiday events or nursing homes, and making several album recordings. I often joke that we made a “White Album” before the Beatles simply because we couldn’t afford a printer to create a fancy cover. It was simply white cardboard and was never recognized for a Grammy Award. Between choir and sports, there was little time for other activities.

It was friends like Alan and Tim that inspired my life as a teenager. Without Alan’s confidence, I would have never made our memorable drive to California, while Tim got me into wrestling and running. I can only hope that I don’t have to do any wrestling at this age, but I’m still running. My mom and dad were my biggest inspirations, teaching me social skills, manners, and morals, leading by example. Mom was loving, caring, and fun, while dad was my hero. They taught me the importance of an education and being loyal. They were special people, who took me into their lives through adoption. I often wonder what my life would have been like as an abandoned child. They gave me everything I needed to be successful. 

Sports figures have always been inspiring to me, despite never really having a close personal connection. I’m still motivated to do my best and keep in good shape. Watching my favorite players win championships always brings tears to my eyes. I love it when the underdog does the impossible in both competitive games and the business world. Top businesspeople are like great athletes. I’m now inspired to see all three grandkids do great things with their lives as I watch them grow into young adults. Maybe Gavyn will become a technical wizard, Maddux a fashion designer, and Nora a unicorn trainer?