I was never "Mr. Bethalto"

I made a decision this week. It was not an easy one….but after much deliberation….I decided it was important to travel back to Illinois this June to be a part of the 60-year commemoration of the birth of my high school…Civic Memorial High in Bethalto.

If you are not aware of the many twists and turns in my life over the last nine years, you probably won’t understand my reluctance in being front and center at an event where so many people paid so much attention to my departure.

I mark the beginning of the end of my happy times in my hometown to an article written about my election to the Bethalto village board where the headline writer decided to give me the title of “Mr. Bethalto.” It was a title that would come back to haunt me from that day forward.

Two years after that article, I accepted a college presidency in Fairfield and accepted without the support of my family. I moved away from everything I loved…and made a new life by myself. The demise of my marriage has been well chronicled and I won’t revisit it. My sons became my sole focus until I had the unbelievable good fortune to meet a Frontier College honor student who stole my heart. She taught me to trust again. She became my best friend and made it OK to not hear from old friends.

My infrequent visits to Bethalto became even more infrequent. There were things written as post scripts in the Alton newspaper that still are seared into my memory. I stopped hearing from lifelong friends. If they called, it was for the ability to say in gossip circles that they “talked to Mike.” It made the story juicier. I think the bottom of the barrel was visiting home and running into a longtime fellow Rotarian and former Mayor of Bethalto who refused to shake my hand when I extended it.

The Lord was so kind to me. He provided. And my life has been totally reconstructed and refocused in Texas. I am very happy for the first time in many, many years. I am so grateful for that happiness.

Then the call came. I have never minced words when talking about my freshman basketball coach. Bob Kallal is my surrogate father. His honesty and goodness have been a model for my life for 40 years. The call came from Bob’s wife, Doneeta. She and a committee was asking me to come back to be a part of the ceremony for CM’s six decade birthday. I told her I really didn’t think I could do it.

Then I prayed and thought about it.

I don’t care if anybody is friendly or not. I owe. I owe that high school and the people that educated me for the opportunities that have presented themselves to me in this life.

I’m coming back. I’m looking everyone in the eye because I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Except, maybe…. I am still trying to live down that Mr. Bethalto crap.