Regarding the Passing of Charlie Moir

I was blessed to have Charlie Moir step in to my life at various times over the last 50 years.  Our brief interactions impacted my life and helped me become the person I am today.

I first met Coach Moir around 1970.  I was just an eft (look it up) playing basketball in the Catholic Saturday league.  I was the primary ball-handling guard on a team stacked with incredible talent.  My job was to bring the ball up court and toss an entry pass to our 11 year-old 5’8” center, Herb Jones (recently ran for state senate).  Herb(ert) was dominating in the 4’5” world of 10 year-olds.  He went on to play football at Appalachian State, but he easily could have gotten a basketball scholarship as well as he grew to 6’7”/275. 

 

Coach Moir came to one of our Saturday sessions for a workshop before the league games started.  I remember him teaching me specific ball-handling drills.  I loved the attention and have never forgotten his generosity that day.  I learned that my “handle was too loose” or something to that effect.  But he was encouraging.

I followed Coach Moir’s career carefully after that day.  I listened on the radio as his Roanoke College team, featuring future Hokie coach Frankie Allen, won the DII (College Division) championship over Akron in 1972.

Moir started his VT assignment in 1976, just as I was beginning to follow Hokie basketball closely.  When I started college in 1978, I went to every home game…at least all of the games that I could get tickets to.  You see, back then, student tickets were a hot commodity; one had to camp out for admittance if it was a big Metro game. No doubt that “The Hurryin’ Hokies” were dynamic and incredibly fun to watch.  As students,  we cheered for various point thresholds, each new one brought new, tasty freebies at the McDonald’s.  100 points meant a free cheeseburger, fries, and drink meal, and our team made that happen often enough to realize that such a prize was attainable.

One night during the frigid freeze of winter 1980 (or ’79), VT destroyed its opponent, and my buddies and I headed over to McDonald’s after the game to receive our reward.  After I got there and waded into the long line,  I realized that I had lost my ticket stub.  I was so very disappointed.  No bonus meal for me-a tragic turn of the screw.  To my rescue came none other than Charlie Moir.  His wife and he had come in to  McDonald’s just ahead of us and were standing in line just as I was discovering my loss.  Immediately, he got my attention and handed over his ticket telling me that he really didn’t need it.  At the time and to this day, I was blown away by his simple act of generosity.  Back then, I was thankful that I’d get my meal.  Now as an older adult, I understand how such generosity can positively impact another soul.

My path would cross Charlie Moir’s path again almost 20 years later.  As it turned out, I ended up teaching elementary school in Roanoke County and had both of his grandchildren in my class over the next couple of years.  Charlie and his wife would come often to have lunch with the kids, and I would sometimes intrude to reminisce with him.  Each time, he’d accommodate me, sharing his thoughts and memories.

Charlie Moir was a gentleman and a very generous soul. I’m so very thankful that his life intersected mine at various times over the years.  My purpose for sharing these recollections isn’t because I’m trying to toot my own horn; rather, it’s to provide testament to the incredible power of true kindness and generosity, traits to which I think we should all aspire.

Buried Treasure

This really happened yesterday. I pulled up to the recycling center by the Salem trash transfer station and began off-loading my stuff, all alone in generous parking area. Suddenly, a large SUV pulled in and backed up, nearly hitting my truck's tailgate. A lady dressed in a baggy, old sweatsuit popped her hatch and began off-loading small box after box to the mixed paper bin. 

Curious, I peaked into the trunk area when she was at the bins and saw that each box was labeled like this:"Playboy 1975-1980". All boxes, All Playboy. There must have been twenty to thirty boxes.

I must say, that I was tempted to hang around until she left so I could do a little dumpster diving, but my moral code kicked in, and I resisted the urge. I'm guessing that those magazines, if in excellent condition, could have fetched a tidy sum on the market.

A Substitute Story

Today was my first day substituting for the new school year.  I had a second grade class with only 15 students, an uncommon luxury in the business.  Last year,  the same teacher had 25 kids, more than a handful were...challenging.  Honestly,  I don't know how she survived the year.  This year's class is refreshing.


One of the kids is new to the school this year.  I don't know her background, but she seemed angry and sad.  Her initial interactions with me were off-putting, deflective, and angered.  For most of the early morning, she battled me over everything, especially when it came to doing any work.


Recess time came at 10:00 am.  She stopped by the restroom on her way outside so when she got outside, the kids were almost done with their walk/run lap around the miniature "track" (school custom). When she got outside and started her walk, she quickly caught up with a boy who was having a very sad, sad, slow day.  She walked up beside him and began talking with him.  Then she offered her hand to him in friendship, and they walked together halfway around the path.  It was refreshing.  The boy perked up and seemed to regain his spirit before he went off in search of butterflies and bugs.


After that,  the girl came over beside me to find some shade.  We chatted a bit, and she told me that she really didn't have any friends. "No one likes me," she said. I mentioned that I was proud of her for helping the boy who was having the bad day, and she smiled. 

A few minutes later,  she spotted a white caterpillar in the grass beside us.  So she spent the next ten minutes studying the creature.  Whenever a kid came by, she guarded it so that it wasn't stepped on.  I told her that she must really like insects.  She told me that she likes most insects but loves all animals.  Then she began telling me about cheetahs, sloths, bobcats, coyotes, and others. She was an encyclopedia of everything living.


As we were coming in from recess, I observed one of the other girls in the class saying mean things to this new girl.  So I stepped between them and told them that we'd speak more about this in the classroom.


When we got back to the cool room,  I called the kids up to the carpet. In elementary schools, "the carpet" is a small open space in the classroom where kids sit a listen to the teacher read aloud, tell stories (me) or pontificate.  Today,  I shared some observations.  First I mentioned that the boys need to stop walking UP the slide and going down the slide three at a time.  I talked about a few other playground safety issues as well like don't jump off the platform and land on your face.


Then I mentioned something special that I observed on the playground.  I told the kids that I saw a student walking with a student who was sad and was cheering him up.  Then I said that the same student really loves, knows a lot about,  and respects all animals.  In fact,  I told the kids that she guarded this white caterpillar as kids ran around. She didn't want to see it squashed.
 

At this moment in my talk,  the new little girl shouted out with a huge ear-to-ear smile, "THAT'S ME!!"  At that moment, everyone turned and looked at her.  It was obvious that that were looking at her truly for the first time. This new girl wasn't just someone to discount; rather, she was someone with whom they could consider being friends.


The rest of the day wasn't perfect.  There were some up and down moments,  but I noticed that the girl who had picked on her earlier had a change of heart and was trying hard to get to know the new student.  The new girl ended up heading to the bus with that girl who picked on her and as she passed me,  she said, "We're friends now!"


You don't win them all.  Some days are tougher than others. Who knows what the future holds for this new girl.  But for today, a little girl began to feel like she belongs in her new school.


 I just thought I'd share.
 

Blue Light Special

 

I had the unfortunate experience of trying to get home this afternoon at 5pm on Rt 419 near what used to be Annie Moore's Irish Pub in Roanoke.

 

I was getting ready to pull out on Rt 419 from the Elderberry parking area and was patiently waiting for a break in the near-continuous wall of oncoming traffic. Finally, I saw the traffic break coming and steeled myself for insertion into the asphalt monster. Unfortunately for me, a gentleman in a convertible BMW sedan well downstream from me saw the break as well and made a right turn from beside North Cross at the Colonial Ave light, thus halving the break space. I contemplated pulling out in front of him, but he suddenly accelerated quickly...so I decided to wait for him to pass by me. As soon as he did, I began to pull out into the smaller break that was left as the oncoming peloton whooshed in with great speed. 

 

Suddenly, right in front of me across two lanes of traffic, I glimpsed a huge Toyota Tundra crossing the other two lanes of traffic to the median right across from me. It looked as if she was going to continue across into the lane I was about to take, but she slammed on her brakes. Meanwhile, another driver of a small black sedan was hot on her heels. He swerved to miss her and stopped beside her in the median. He was very unhappy.

 

Realizing they had both stopped, I gunned it and grabbed the lane closest to me ahead of the oncoming wave. The Tundra lady hesitated again. This further infuriated the black sedan guy, and he gunned his car the rest of the way around her and zoomed out in the left lane and went along his merry, angry way.

 

Unfortunately for him, there was a third car trying to cross those lanes of traffic and who just had time to make the crossing before the whoosh. As he completed his maneuver, I watched the drama in my rear-view mirror as he turned on his blue lights and pulled-over the angry black sedan. 

 

I was quite confident that I hadn't done anything wrong, and I didn't really feel to sorry for the black sedan driver. I continued my trek home by turning off Rt 419 at my first opportunity to get to I-581 via the three wacky under-construction UCLA (University On Colonial Avenue) traffic circles. That insanity was refreshing compared to the Electric Road nightmare. 

 

I'm glad I don't live on that side of town.

Errands

Interesting errand run today. I went over to Walmart at Valley View to get some fishing gear for my upcoming beach excursion. Standing in front of the hooks was a familial unit consisting of more kids than I could identify. One 7-year-old was honking some squeeze toy. Another 3-year-old was sitting on the floor shrieking. For 5 minutes. Right in front of exactly where I needed to be. 

 

Then I went to look in the auto section for some WD-40, but the way was blocked by two employees who appeared to be talking about their holiday plans. I made a looping detour.

 

Then I went over the trash bag section, dodging oblivious shoppers. I finally got my stuff and headed out of the store. In the parking lot, I watched two teens almost get run over by an SUV. Then my cellphone in my pocket started randomly playing some news video from the internet. I got in my car and told my phone in a loud voice to stop playing random shit. It turns out that a lady had come up to the car beside me, and she just stopped and stared at me as if I was completely unhinged, which I might have been.

 

I left the parking area and drove over to Target to drop off some spent printer cartridges. On my way out to the car, some guy was standing in the mulched area across from the entrance playing The Godfather theme on an accordion. He was pretty good.

 

I got in the car and drove down I-581 heading to Peter's Creek Road. A giant SUV entered the interstate at Hershberger RD and merged right in front of me. I politely moved over to make room for him, I needed to get back in the right lane so that I could exit, but he proceeded to match my speed exactly. Finally, I had to brake hard in order to make the exit. The deacceleration lane for exit was populated by work vehicles, so it took some maneuvering to weave around them on my dry-rotted, nearly bald tires. They didn't notice as they were busy towing a massive mower out of a marshy quagmire.

 

I cruised down Peter's Creek road and waited to turn right onto Cove Rd so that I could cut over to Rt 419. When our light turned green, I began my turn but was blocked by a car that was stopped as it pulled out of the CVS parking area. A tiny tattooed lady was getting out of the beaten car screaming at the driver. She strutted across the road in front of traffic as she screamed at and displayed her middle finger to the sun-shielded driver.

 

While at Walmart, I had noted that gas prices had jumped over 20 cents overnight either due to the refinery fire in Philadelphia or the impending 7 cent gas tax increase slated to go into effect on July 1. So I got some gas at the Lakeside Kroger before the price rocketed up even more.

 

I made it to my bank across from the Speedway, but a teller's computer was down, a small army of employees was very concerned about problem-solving the issue...instead of getting me my money.

 

As I pulled in to the Speedway for my Big-Assed Soda (BAS), some lady was standing in the middle of the parking lot smoking a cigarette and making some odd seemingly random vocalizations. Meanwhile, a guy with a miniaturized dog on a leash was propped up against the side of the building beside a trash can.

 

I got my BAS and drove home. As I pulled in to my neighborhood, the odometer on my 1998 Honda Accord tipped 190,000 miles.