October 1997

Rick gets a computer
 

In 1998, I asked Gary Richardson, one of my country-western dance students, what he did for a living.  Gary replied that he owned a computer store.  Seeing the uneasy look on my face, Gary asked a question.  "Do you have a computer, Rick?"

"No.  I am afraid this new Windows operating system is too complicated to learn on my own.  I don't learn things from manuals very well.  I do better when someone explains it to me first."

Sensing an opportunity, Gary's eyes lit up.  "Let me build you a computer.  If you need help learning how to use it, I will be glad to show you."

"I don't want to impose, Gary.  I think I am going to need more help than you realize."

Gary nodded.  "In that case, I have an idea.  Let's swap computer lessons for dance lessons."

As things stood, Gary loved to dance.  However he wasn't very good at it.  I wanted a computer.  However I wasn't very good at it.  I owned a dance studio, Gary owned a computer store.  As Humphrey Bogart would say, this was the start of a beautiful friendship.  Based on his promise to help, I bought my first computer in October 1997.  As promised, Gary was unfailingly kind.  However, I was not exactly a star pupil.  I lack the patience to learn certain things on my own.  I was so woefully lost at my first lesson I decided this computer was not coming home until I knew how to operate it to perfection.  For the entire month of November, each day I would drive over to Gary's store and hang out for a couple hours to play on my new computer.  Whenever Gary had a free moment, he would help me.  If he was busy, Gary would give me a task to practice.  I knew Gary didn't have time to help everyone one-on-one like this, but I think he took pity on me.  I was not a fast learner, but I was persistent.  The same could be said for Gary's dancing.  He did not catch on fast, but he too was persistent.  Thanks to spending an entire month at Gary's computer store, we became fast friends. 

Buying the computer was Stage One.  Stage Two began one year after I bought my computer.  There were two major developments in 1998.  The Internet became important practically overnight.  Same for Email.  Gary insisted I get a website, so www.ssqq.com came online one year after buying my computer.  Gary's next suggestion was to stop using the Post Office to mail my schedules.  Instead, he said I should put my schedule on the website and save money. 

"But how will my students know where to look?"

Gary's answer was a game changer.  "Use email to inform them."

"I don't understand.  It will take forever to email each student."

"Here's the plan, Rick.  Instead of wasting all that paper to send out printed schedules six times a year, you can use the Internet to post 12 schedules a year at a small fraction of the effort.  You don't have to email each student one at a time.  As you acquire new email addresses, put them all into a group file.  Place your monthly schedule on your web site, then write a once-a-month publicity letter with a link to your website.  Cut and paste your email addresses into the publicity Email.  One click of the mouse will send your Newsletter flying to 3,000 students."

Then Gary hesitated.  "However, there is one problem."

"What's that?"

"You need to make your Newsletter interesting or people will delete the email without even looking at it.  You need to give people a reason to read your Newsletter."

November 1998

Rick's writing career begins
 

Gary was right.  If I was going to rely on the Internet to publicize my monthly schedule of classes, I had to find a way to attract people to my website.  Hmm.  What should I write about?

By chance, my decision to create an Email Newsletter coincided with the studio's very first cruise trip in 1998.  Before I left on the trip, I received some good advice.  

"Gary, I've decided my first Email Newsletter will be about my upcoming cruise to Jamaica."

"That makes sense.  But if you are going to do that, I suggest you take lots of photographs.  The best way to endear yourself to the guests in your cruise group will be to post their pictures on the Internet.  This will also let their friends see them having fun.  The more pictures you post, the more those who stayed behind will be envious.  Who knows, maybe they will want to go on the next cruise trip."

Gary's suggestion worked like a charm.  By posting pictures of the trip on the Internet and using the Email Newsletter to publicize my effort, I created a huge buzz at the studio.  The new website was an instant success.

There was one other development.  I started getting compliments.

From: Imelda
To: Rick Archer
Subject: Re: SSQQ Newsletter

Dang!  You are an excellent writer!  Have you written a book yet?  I'd be interested in reading it if you have.

may 2005

what should I write about this month?
 

Fast forward to 2005.  Over the past six years I had learned that the more I wrote, the better the studio did.  My students liked reading about themselves and they liked reading about their friends.  They also liked the Halloween pictures, Sock Hop pictures, cruise pictures and so on.  However, I developed a dread known as 'Publish or Perish' thanks to a monster that required constant feeding.  What started as a once-a-month writing project was now twice a month, sometimes even more often. 

Looking for material to use when things were slow, I had to get creative.  Whenever I did not have new photographs or studio gossip to make the Newsletter interesting, I began to write stories about my various adventures at the studio over the past 25 years.  This development carried a hidden benefit.  By writing all these stories while my memory was fresh, when it came time to begin my book in 2013, many of the chapters were already written.  All I had to do was collect previously-written stories and weave them into book form.  As a result, my first book was half-written before I even started.  Hmm.  Was this all part of the Plan?  However, I refrained from saying that publicly.  I had a major problem because many of my stories were Weird.  I know exactly what you are thinking... "Weird?  You can say that again."

Since I was unsure how my business customers would react to my odd belief system, I made sure to keep Mysticism out of my Newsletter stories.  No mention of God, no lectures on the meaning of Coincidence, not a whisper about Cosmic Blindness or Fate. 

I based this decision on an unusually cruel event that took place shortly before Christmas in 1978.  This was the first year of my dance career.  Patricia, my girlfriend at the time, had cornered me with one application to Law School and another to Business School.  She demanded I fill them out or things were Quitsville between us.  In Patricia's opinion, my career as a dance instructor was not going to buy her a big house or pay the private school tuition for our children. 

"Listen to me, Rick.  You are acting like a teenager who dreams of being a Rock Star.  It would be one thing if you were some sort of Mick Jagger instead of Rick Archer.  But you tell me all the time you aren't much of a dancer, you hate dance contests and you are afraid to perform.  You readily admit you are a loner who is not psychologically equipped to be the life of the party.  Saddled with limitations you yourself have acknowledged, how will you ever succeed in this business in the long run? 

Seriously, why are you pinning all your hopes on something with so little promise?  Every person I speak to expects Disco to disappear in a puff of smoke.  Then what?  What are you going to do?  Can you see yourself as a Cha Cha instructor for the rest of your life?  Be sensible.  Go back to school!  If you do, I will support you 100% for trusting me on this issue."

I wasn't backing down.  In Realistic terms, yes, of course Patricia was right.  But Patricia did not know that I believed God had moved mountains to get me this far.  Nor did Patricia know I regarded my dance program as a responsibility entrusted to me by the Universe.  So I decided to take a chance and reveal my Mystical side for the first time.

"Patricia, I already have an education.  I am a college graduate who is going nowhere in his current job.  I have spent the past four years in a dead end job dealing with child abuse.  During this time I have been deeply depressed by my inability to improve the lives of my clients.  Nothing I do makes the slightest bit of difference.  However, when I teach dance, for the first time in my life I feel like I am contributing.  I am really good at what I do.  I get compliments on my teaching all the time and I feel a sense of accomplishment.  Meanwhile I keep getting one lucky break after another.  Doors open without my even knocking.  I know you won't believe this, but I feel like I am doing something I was meant to do, like this is my Destiny.  I don't want this to stop.  I have to see where things will lead."

I spoke from my heart about my belief that teaching dance was Fate.  Since this topic had never come up before, I had no idea how Patricia would react.  Maybe she had a superstitious bent like me, but I doubted it.  Sad to say, I was correct.  Patricia wasn't buying my Destiny argument for a moment.  She was the level-headed type who was practical to a fault.  And now she was angry.

"You have got to be kidding, Rick.  Do you really think that God is telling you what to do?  Seriously, when was the last time you saw a burning bush or a parting sea?  Until you see someone dancing on water, I think you need to admit that pretending God has some big plan for you is little more than a fanciful excuse to indulge your Rock Star fantasies. 

You are the beneficiary of a top-flight education.  You are a St. Johns-Johns Hopkins graduate who could have any job on earth if you set your mind to it.  All you have to do is put in the work, something you are good at.  Isn't it time to stop being silly?  I am warning you that this dancing fad will be gone tomorrow and then what will you tell me?  'Oh, gee, God changed His mind.'

Enjoy your dancing while it lasts, but apply to graduate school in the meantime.  Then at least you will have graduate school as an option next fall when Disco rolls back under whatever rock it came from.  I am sorry to burst your bubble, but it is time to be realistic about your frivolous dancing dreams.  A career as a dance teacher is beneath you."
 

I felt sick in my stomach.  Patricia had just dismissed the most important thing in my life.  Deep down, I believed teaching dance was what God wanted me to do.  But I had no proof.  I was continuing down this path strictly on instinct, a Leap of Faith so to speak.  After listening to Patricia, I felt humiliated.  Using unusually harsh language, she made it clear that teaching dance was a giant waste of time.  Her contempt was so painful, from that point on I decided to keep my unusual beliefs to myself or risk further scorn. 

Fortunately I stuck to my guns and told Patricia I felt compelled to stay on this Magic Carpet Ride as far as it would take me.  Predictably Patricia headed for the Exit Door, thereby extending my Epic Losing Streak.  As it turned out, I made the right decision.  I would one day own the largest dance studio in the city, I sent my daughter to private school and bought a half-million dollar house.

may 2005

a simple act of kindness
 

Having spent the past six years writing one or two stories a month about my personal experiences for the Newsletter, I ran into a wall.  The only stories I had left to tell involved inexplicable coincidences and lucky breaks that belonged in Ripley's Believe it or Not.  Terrified of being ridiculed for my spiritual beliefs, I decided that maybe if I sanitized the stories with a Supernatural tinge, I could publish them.

Take a quick guess which Supernatural Story was my first choice?  If you said the 1968 Parking Lot Conversation, give yourself a pat on the back.  It was May 2005 and I had no amusing Reality-based stories left to tell.  Frustrated by writer's block, I took a deep breath and began writing how Mrs. Ballantyne had come to my rescue in my time of crisis.  Carefully excluding any mention of God or Coincidence, I concentrated on the importance of helping those who can't help themselves. 

Here is the concluding passage from my 2005 Newsletter article: 

"This has been the story of how a 40 minute talk in a parking lot made all the difference in the world to me.  Mrs. Ballantyne's gentle words helped me overcome a terrible crisis.

It has also been the story of how during my childhood many people came along at key times to point me in the right direction when I was about to lose my way.

Someday I am going to come across a kid who clearly needs a lift.  Perhaps I will know the child well or maybe just barely.  And when I get my opportunity, I hope a few kind words and suggestions of my own will have the same healing effect that Mrs. Ballantyne's conversation had on me many many years ago. 

I will do this because I have learned the power of a Simple Act of Kindness."

"A Simple Act of Kindness."  Mrs. Ballantyne had used those words to describe the gift of education given to her by Sam Maceo.  And so that became the title of my story.  To my great relief, no one objected to the story despite its vague religious overtones.  In fact, to my surprise I received more compliments on this story than anything I had ever written.  Some people even said it made them cry.  Gratified by the response, I questioned my decision to avoid mentioning the mystical impact this event had on my life.  Although I had made sure to avoid using the word 'Miracle' regarding the coincidence of Mrs. Ballantyne's surprise appearance at my store, that message was loud and clear for those capable of reading between the lines.  Maybe I was being too careful.  Or maybe not.  Do I dare tell the truth? 

What would my students think if I told them I believed an invisible Guardian Angel had sent a telepathic message to Mrs. Ballantyne that guided her to my grocery store that day?  Most people would probably think the same as Patricia... "Rick Archer is out of his mind.  Does he think he's blessed by God or something?"

Right now the studio was so successful that 1,400 people came streaming through the doors each week.  Did I really want to rock the boat?  What upset me the most was listening to all the compliments I received for creating this special dance studio.  To me, there was an unusual warmth that permeated the studio.  Where did this warmth come from?  In my heart, I believed the studio had received a spiritual blessing.  But to say so openly invited scorn.  Yes, SSQQ Dance Studio was special, but did I dare tell anyone what I thought? 

I have a confession to make.  Deep down, I did not believe I had the talent to do this on my own.  I believed the credit should go to Divine Intervention.  For example, I viewed Mrs. Ballantyne's entrance into my life as a case of Divine Intervention.  Using her as my inspiration, I had dedicated my life to spreading the message of Kindness.  I was convinced this dance studio was truly infused with a Spirit that people could sense without necessarily capable of identifying the origin.  But did I dare say that?  Of course not!  A preacher can talk that way, but not a dance teacher with zero religious credentials.  So I kept my mouth shut.  Whenever someone gave me credit for creating this marvelous organization, I accepted their compliments with appreciation, but deep inside I felt embarrassed.  Little did these well-wishers know I secretly credited an amazing series of Supernatural Events for helping me create this amazing dance school.  Besides, even if I shared all the details, I assumed no one would believe me.  Fearful I would be labeled a religious nut, I decided against sharing my spiritual beliefs in public. 

November 2005

we meet again for the third time
 

As a dance teacher, my daily schedule was very different from my dance studio friends.  I was at home during the day while my friends were at work.  I answered the business phone every day from 9 am till 3 pm and worked on writing Newsletters.  Then I relaxed till it was time to head to the studio at 6 pm.  As it turned out, posting my story about Mrs. Ballantyne on the Internet led to an unexpected consequence.  Several months down the road, one morning the phone rang.  I froze the moment I heard a familiar voice.  My caller was none other than Maria Ballantyne.  Since we operated in totally different social circles, it had been almost 30 years since our previous meeting.  The last time I had seen her was 1978 when I helped her husband save his tropical plants from a hard freeze.

I was stunned.  This was the third time in my life that Mrs. Ballantyne had appeared out of nowhere to surprise me.  She certainly had her way of sneaking up on me!  As usual, my pulse began to race.  Was this another weird coincidence? 

No, not this time.  Mrs. Ballantyne had a ready explanation for her phone call.  Her granddaughter Katina (her son Christie's daughter) had stumbled across this story on my website while doing a Google Search on the name "Maria Ballantyne".  That made sense.  The Internet was still fairly new.  Consequently there was little information about various people pre-Internet unless they were famous.  Since there was little or no information about Mrs. Ballantyne on the Internet, I suppose my recent story was the first thing the young girl had seen on Google's list of web pages containing her name.

Surprised to find such a lengthy article, Katina read the story with wide eyes.  When she finished, Katina wasted no time telling her grandmother.  I had to laugh.  When it came to names, the Ballantyne clan was not terribly original.  Maria's mother was Katina, her daughter was Katina and now I learned she had a granddaughter named Katina.  Why not branch out and try a new name like Katrina or Katarina?  Fortunately no one asked for my opinion. 

RICK ARCHER - MARIA BALLANTYNE TIME LINE
 

Sixth Meeting

Serious

Coincidence
Pay it Forward

Fifth Meeting

Suspicious

Cosmic Blindness
Fourth Meeting

Third Meeting

TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR GAP BETWEEN 1978 AND 2005

Serious

Coincidence
Pay it Forward

Serious

Coincidence
Second Meeting

TEN YEAR GAP BETWEEN 1968 AND 1978

Serious

ST. JOHN'S

Serious

Ultra Serious

Utra Serious

2009

we meet again for the fourth time
 

Suspicious

Cosmic Blindness
Fourth Meeting

Our fourth meeting took place in 2009.  Readers will recall I wrote extensively about this meeting in Chapter 47.  This was the night that Christie Ballantyne and his wife Yasmine brought Mrs. Ballantyne with them to the studio.  Following their private lesson, they were kind enough to give me time to speak to my honored guest.

Although Mrs. Ballantyne was 89, I was pleased to note her mind was as sharp as ever.  She moved well too.  I was impressed.  This lady was indestructible.  Must have been all that tennis.  In addition, Mrs. Ballantyne was as sassy as ever.  She immediately chewed me out.

"Rick Archer, where have you been?  Why haven't you been to see me!?" 

This was the night Mrs. B revealed that she and 'Charlie' (Mr. Salls) were close friends.  I had to laugh.  How on earth did someone derive the nickname 'Charlie' from Elwood Kimble Salls?

During our conversation, for the first time I realized that Mr. Salls had been responsible for arranging my college scholarship to St. John's.  I was of course very embarrassed to discover I had spent the past 40 years thinking Mr. Salls hated me when it reality he was doing everything in his power to help me succeed.  Stunned that I had remained in the dark for so long, I wondered how it was possible to have such an enormous Blind Spot on the issue.

Thanks to Mrs. Ballantyne's 2009 revelations, my 2005 story had just received a plot twist worthy of Charles Dickens.  Mrs. Ballantyne was the only person who had any idea what took place behind my back during my Senior year.  Now, 40 years after the fact, she had solved one of the great mysteries of my life.  It occurred to me that if enough St. John's students from that era came forward to share their own stories about Mr. Salls, a remarkable picture would surely emerge.  Well, in that case, let me be the first.  The next day I went to my desk and started typing.  The next thing I knew, my original five-chapter 2005 story about Maria Ballantyne had expanded to a ten-chapter 2009 story about Mrs. Ballantyne AND Mr. Salls. 

2009

a letter from Michael Ballantyne
 

When I finished the updated 2009 story about Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne, I posted it on the SSQQ website and mentioned it in the next Newsletter.  At the time, I was pleased to receive a new round of warm compliments.  In particular, I received a very nice letter from Mrs. Ballantyne's oldest son Michael. 

November 2, 2009

Again -- thanks for the reply and thanks for writing such a wonderful story about my mother in the first place.  Rick, if you ever see my mother again, you should ask her to show you a letter my Uncle George wrote to her one Christmas while she was in college.  They were really struggling even back then.  George was hustling a bunch of different jobs in college and would send her money as best he could.   In the letter he was talking about how lucky they were to have each other and how they would always be a family.  George was trying so hard to keep my mother's spirits up when she felt so lonely.

I am proud of my mother for how she helped you.  I am sure that some of my mother's empathy is genetic but in large measure a lot of it is due to the problems in her youth.  My mother struggled so hard to escape the expectations laid out for her has to explain why she reached out to you in such an impressive way.

2010

we meet again for the fifth time
 

Fifth Meeting

As it turned out, Michael Ballantyne was not the only person who read my updated version.  Mrs. Ballantyne read it too and decided she wanted to talk to me about it.  Our fifth visit took place one year after I published the updated version based on the 2009 revelations I learned about Mr. Salls.  Similar to our fourth meeting, the fifth meeting took place at my dance studio when Christie and Yasmine came for their Swing lesson.  As always, I was delighted to see her.  Although Mrs. Ballantyne was about to turn 90, she was as alert as ever.  However, she was not quite as provocative, but rather in what I would call a thoughtful, reflective mood.

Towards the end of the lesson, Christie pointed to his mother and whispered, "Mom wants to talk to you.  Don't worry about us.  I will practice with Yasmine." 

Nodding assent, I wasted no time moving to sit with Christie's mother on the couch. 

Mrs. Ballantyne said, "I've enjoyed watching you teach my son how to Swing dance.  You probably don't know this, but I was a very good Swing dancer when I was young.  Jay used to take me dancing when we first met.  He's a wonderful dancer.  That was so much fun!"

I smiled.  "Would you like to dance with me now?"

Mrs. Ballantyne laughed.  "No, but thanks for asking.  My hip has been giving me trouble.  You know, Rick, I wanted to see you tonight because I recently read that expanded story you wrote about me and Charlie in 2009.  I liked reading your lengthier version.  That was a very nice tribute to Charlie.  You added a lot of details about the problems you had at St. John's that were missing in the first version.  Thank you for sharing that.  It helped me better understand why you were so desperate when I met you in the parking lot that day."

"You are more than welcome, Mrs. Ballantyne.  After you visited me last year, I was so touched by what you said about Mr. Salls that I could not wait to to include him in my original 2005 story.  But there was one issue I didn't have the courage to talk about."

"What was that?"

"What you read about my problems was only the tip of iceberg.  I was too ashamed to explain the full extent of how badly I behaved in my Senior year.  At one time or another I was caught cheating, stealing, trespassing and fighting with another student.  I was probably the worst headache in the history of St. John's.  Just ask Mr. Murphy.  I disobeyed his direct orders to get my hair cut.  And I was insolent more times than I care to reveal.  I lost count of the number of times he sent me to Penalty Hall on Saturday morning, but it had to be double figures.  Nor did it stop there.  You have no idea how many times Mr. Murphy threatened to suspend me.  So last year when you revealed how Mr. Salls secretly went to bat for me, I kind of went to pieces.  I graduated thinking Mr. Salls hated me guts only to learn from you that he was actually my best friend.  He must have been the reason Mr. Murphy did not get his vengeance."

Mrs. Ballantyne frowned.  "I am not sure I understand why it upset you so much to learn the truth about your Headmaster when we spoke last year."

"You have no idea the extent of the hostility I felt towards Mr. Murphy.  And I am sure the feeling was mutual.  We argued all year long.  But here's the thing.  I am positive that Mr. Murphy reported my behavior to Mr. Salls on a regular basis and I wince when I imagine what Mr. Murphy said about me."

"What do you suppose Mr. Murphy said?"  

"I imagine it sounded something this:

'I gave Archer a hundred chances to straighten up, but he refused to listen.  There are 220 students in the Upper School and no one talks to me like him.  This kid is the proverbial bad apple.  His behavior is totally unacceptable.  It sets a terrible example to other students to see how he behaves and I do not understand why you tolerate it.  I know his type.  He's going to say that no one ever cared about him.  I'm sorry, but I don't buy it.  It is impossible for me to care about a boy who is that selfish.  I say its too late now to cure him with loving kindness.  What he needs is firm, consistent discipline and he never got it here.  My recommendation is that Archer be suspended.'"

Mrs. Ballantyne laughed out loud. 

"You have Murphy down to perfection.  I remember him and that is exactly what he would have said.  I might add I gave my own kids a similar piece of my mind on many an occasion.  But different kids require different approaches.  My own children were tough enough to take a good chewing out, but I think Charlie knew you better than you realized.  My guess is he noted how fragile you were.  Yes, Charlie heard what Murphy said, but he also listened to Ed Curran who saw your good side.  Plus Charlie observed you in his German class for three years.  If you ask me, I think you reminded Charlie of his own difficult childhood.  Knowing how others had helped him, he decided you were worth taking a chance on."  

"Yes, I know that, Mrs. Ballantyne, and thank you.  But I also wish I could find a way to repay him for keeping me glued together.  If anyone can understand what I mean, it would be you.  On the day I graduated, I was a very disturbed young man.  You have no idea the depth of the problems I faced in college.  Although I managed to graduate from college without getting into any trouble, I suffered terribly from my emotional problems.  The loneliness was unbearable at times.

My memory of St. John's is what kept me going.  St. John's taught me to compete.  St. John's taught me to persist.  Based on my time at St. John's, I knew I had talent.  During my darkest days at Hopkins I clung to that thought like a life ring in the ocean.  Every time doubts of my sanity or my ability crept into my mind, I reminded myself that for nine years at St. John's I held my own with the best and brightest. 

Yes, I am successful now, but during my difficult college years, St. John's functioned like the North Star.  I knew if I could just find a way to solve my personality problems and gain some confidence around people my own age, I had a lot to offer.  But how I was ever going to quit hating myself and the rest of the world so much?  During college, my problems seemed insurmountable." 

Mrs. Ballantyne took my hand.

"After reading about how bitter you were, it is amazing to me that you didn't end up in Montana writing a manifesto to justify why you decided to bomb people.  I am so grateful you turned out differently than these young fools today who think their problems can be solved by hurting others.  Boo hoo hoo, so life is tough!  Get over it!  Instead these morons go to a school and kill defenseless people.  What does that accomplish?  Considering your troubled youth, how did you manage to come out okay?"

"I would never hurt St. John's like those monsters at Columbine.  I would not dream of it.  Like you said, St. John's had given me a fighting chance in life.  Hard work, persistence, ambition, desire for achievement.  St. John's gave me that.  Quitting was not an option.  But if you ask me, it was the men who ran the school who made the difference.  Mr. Chidsey gave me that scholarship, Mr. Curran invited me to his home for long talks and Mr. Salls trusted there was more to me than my awful behavior.  That probably explains why he took such a gentle approach.  Yes, I was a bitter kid, but not towards St. John's.  I loved my school with all my heart."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled and took my hand.  "I wish so much Charlie could be here today to hear you say that.  He would be so pleased to know he did the right thing to go to bat for you when you kept getting into trouble.  However, Charlie was not the only person who kept track of you."

"What do you mean?" I responded.   

"Charlie gave me the feeling that several people kept a close eye on you throughout your years at the school.  A good teacher always knows more than they let on, but they learn to keep a poker face about it.  In your case, I think Charlie Salls and several other instructors cared about you more than you ever knew.  However, they went out of their way to conceal how worried they were.  You were dealing with highly talented men and women who made St. John's a very special place.  They were deeply committed educators who believed their role went beyond merely imparting knowledge.  They wouldn't be any good at their job if they couldn't see how disturbed you were. 

People like Mr. Salls, Mr. Chidsey and Mr. Curran reached the conclusion that for you to make a contribution later in life, someone needed to intercede on your behalf.  Since your parents weren't getting the job done, they decided to handle things their own way.  Unfortunately Charlie was in a tough spot.  He could not show public favoritism in any way.  Nor could he hand you a crying towel.  That wasn't his nature.  He was a very reserved man who preferred to operate completely out of sight.  But there can be no doubt that Charlie cared deeply about you.  His actions make that clear."

"As always, Mrs. Ballantyne, I appreciate you.  Without you, I would have never realized Mr.  Salls was the most important benefactor of my entire childhood."

Just then we both noticed Christie point to his watch.  Mrs. Ballantyne gave me a big smile.

"One more thing before I go.  You remind me so much of George sometimes.  He said the exact same thing about Texas A&M giving him a fighting chance and look what he accomplished.  Good for him and good for you.  Listen, Rick, I have an idea.  You are a very good writer.  Why don't you write a book about your years at St. John's?  You have quite a story to tell."

I smiled.  "You know what?  I might just do that someday."

2014

a letter from Kim salls
 

Thanks to Google, I received a kind letter in 2014.  Out of the blue I was contacted by Kim Salls, son of my former Headmaster.  

From: Kim Salls, Jr
Sent: Tuesday, December 30, 2014 1:41 PM
Subject: St. John's School and my father

Rick,

Please don't get confused, there are three Elwood Kimball Salls.  One is my father, one is me, one is my son.

My son, E. K. Salls III, found your article about my father when searching for something else on the internet.  After he told me about it, I read your story today.  It is a wonderful, well-told story that brought tears to my eyes when I was reading about what Dad had done to help you.

Thank you so much for your kind words about my father. 

I graduated from St. John's in 1961 so I probably did not know you.  My brother Cal was in the class of 1965.

My wife Bettie and I run into Maria Ballantyne once or twice a month when we are eating dinner out, quite often at Paulie's or Tony Mandola's.  She is indeed a great lady. 

Sincerely, Kim (E. Kimball Salls, Jr)
 

Excited by the possibility of learning more about my illustrious benefactor, I made an appointment to meet him.  Over coffee, Kim told me many details of his father's life.  Mrs. Ballantyne had suggested Mr. Salls had faced a difficult childhood very similar to mine, but I was dumbfounded by the raw details shared by his son.  This was the day I became more convinced than ever that Mr. Salls, Mrs. Ballantyne and me were soul mates destined to connect at St. John's. 

Just as we were getting ready to leave, Kim Salls asked an interesting question.

"Rick, did you ever feel like my father watched out for you?"

"Yes and no.  I always thought it was a one-way street.  I was fascinated with your father, but other than complimenting me on my hard work, he treated me no differently than anyone else.  However, based on what Mrs. Ballantyne has told me, I believe that your father did take a special interest in me.

Kim nodded, then remarked, "Yeah, that sounds like my father.  I am absolutely certain my father saw his own life in yours.  But knowing Dad, he never would have told you."  

We both smiled at each other.  Taciturn.  Secretive.  Guarded.  That was Mr. Salls.  But underneath that gruff exterior beat the heart of a truly fine man.

2015

we meet again for the sixth time
 

Sixth Meeting

When Mrs. Ballantyne suggested I write a book, for a moment there I thought she had read my mind.  You know how I am about Fate.  During our 2010 conversation at the dance studio, my intuition had already suggested I was meant to write a book about Mrs. Ballantyne.  While I was at it, now I wanted to add Mr. Salls to show the important role he had played in my life.

One thing I never quite understood was why Mrs. Ballantyne trusted me so much to tell me all those intimate details of her life.  After all, we only met six times in 47 years.  Nevertheless, she always spoke to me candidly as if I were her most trusted confidante in the world.  Here is my theory.  Perhaps on the level the mystics would call the 'Soul', Mrs. Ballantyne 'knew' I would become her biographer one day.  Consequently each time I saw her, Mrs. Ballantyne immediately got to work peppering me with new details.

On Monday, January 19, I called ahead and got permission from Mrs. Ballantyne to visit her the following morning.  As I drove to see her, I recalled how we first met in 1968.

I shook my head as I recalled cheating on the German test.  That was the dumbest thing I ever did in my life.  And I got caught no less.  Overwhelmed with guilt, when Mrs. Ballantyne's daughter Katina won the scholarship that by all rights should have gone to me, I went off the deep end.  I had every reason to assume Mr. Salls had given the award to pretty Katina, an SJS poster girl if there ever was one, because I no longer deserved the it.  Sad to say, I agreed with my Headmaster's decision.  After what I had done, I had no right to think I deserved the scholarship. 

At this point, I had fallen to pieces.  I was intensely angry at myself and plagued by thoughts of suicide.  Considering how much trouble I was in, is it possible my higher self, my soul perhaps, put out a secret SOS? 

"God, I need someone with the wisdom and talent to restore my courage.  Right now, I need a mother's touch in the worst way to help me through this crisis.  Over the past nine years, I have identified a lady I consider to be the finest mother at my school.  Although the two of us have never met, I admire her very much.  Her name is Mrs. Ballantyne.  Will you please ask her to visit me?  And if you don't mind, would you ask her to hurry?"  

Six days after Katina won the award, Mrs. Ballantyne showed up at my grocery store.  It is one thing for someone to make a visit to a random grocery store.  It is another thing entirely to recognize that a young man, a complete stranger no less, is in deep trouble.  In that instant, Mrs. Ballantyne had made a spot decision to stick around and help.  What were the odds? 

As I have said repeatedly, the amazing coincidence of having Mrs. Ballantyne take me under her wing like a Fairy Godmother became my inspiration to search for the meaning of life.  While I had no trouble revealing my belief that her visit had been created by Divine Intervention, how would she feel about being included in a book which covered such controversial territory?

2015

farewell, my friend
 

Our mother left this life that she so vibrantly lived for 94 years.  In passing, she was surrounded by all her children. 

At her core, she was a mother and a Yia Yia to her family and to many others who adopted her as their own mother.  She leaves behind a legacy of great love and memories of her exceptional beauty and radiant smile that could light up any room.

Born in Galveston to Katina and Mike Mitchell, poor Greek immigrants, Maria and her three older brothers lost their mother at an early age. She fulfilled her mother's dream of going to college and graduated from Mary Hardin Baylor.

From there she went to San Antonio where she worked as a secretary, danced with a big grin on her face to the big band music of that era, and lost her heart to a handsome flight surgeon, Alando Jones "J" Ballantyne. After a whirlwind courtship of just three months, they married and were stationed in Hawaii.

Following the war, her husband's training took them to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota and then to Houston where they raised seven "wonderful" children, as Mom always said, during their 52 years together.

Mom's dream was to marry a man her children could respect and to create the home she never had growing up. That she did. We adored and respected our father, an internationally renowned head and neck cancer surgeon who worked at M.D. Anderson his entire career.

The warm, inviting, beautiful home my mother created was constantly filled with her children's friends, grandchildren, great grandchildren, as well as the 26 people from all over the world who came to live with Mom at various times.

For over 45 years, Mom hosted her famous Christmas parties.  Then there were the swimming pool parties she hosted for Dad's residents at the hospital.  Our home was filled with music, joy, and laughter.

Our home was also a haven for those in need – from the poorest hospital patients to royalty.  Mom treated princes and paupers precisely the same – with respect and a strong dose of her unique brand of truth serum sprinkled with a sailor's vernacular.

Parking attendants, waiters, bus boys, and shop owners would run to kiss her because she saw them – really saw them – and made them feel special.

Mom's civic activities included The Park People, Blue Bird Circle, and the Annunciation Orthodox School Board.

She could beat all seven of her children at tennis, and, as legend has it, even beat her brother, George Mitchell, when he was captain of A&M's tennis team.

Throughout her life, my mother's focus was always her children and their families.  She was a fixture at St. John's School where she and our father cheered zealously at their children's sporting and music events.

No mother could have given more to her seven children and their spouses, her 21 grandchildren and their spouses, her 11 great grandchildren, her 12 Mitchell nieces and nephews and their families, her Ballantyne in-laws and 21 nieces and nephews and their families, pus her "adopted" children.

The outpouring of love extended to her by all these people in her last days is the greatest testament to a life well lived and a heart that loved completely.  Her consistent message of the importance of family, gratitude, persistence, forgiveness, and unconditional love is imprinted on her heirs and will echo for generations to come.  We love her very much. 

-- Marina Walne, 2015

  A family gathering in Aspen, Colorado.