Newspaper helpers, jogging glasses
The Hillsboro Homecoming celebration was a smashing success and we have a lot of people to thank for making it possible for us to bring this week's coverage to you.
Thanks to all the homecoming candidates for your cooperation with our photo guy, who often changes his mind in the middle of a shoot. Thanks also to the cheerleaders who helped out at the assembly and the pep rally.
Thanks to high school secretary Donna Dalke, for walking me, slowly and remedially through the homecoming week activity calendar, so I wouldn't miss anything. Thanks also, Donna, for driving your hilarious "Sack the Bears" car in the parade, including the sign that read, "This float was completed under budget," which we found easy to believe.
Donna also helped with results of the parade float contest, news so fresh the ink hadn't dried on the message pad. Thanks also to co-cheerleading sponsor Lisa Mayfield, who saved me by correcting some very unusual name spellings.
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There are many people who work behind the scenes every week to make it possible to publish this newspaper.
Our sports writer, Ryan Richter, works a full time job and still manages to cover the Hillsboro and Tabor football games every week.
Our Goessel correspondent, Delbert Peters, also works full time and still manages to get to most of the Bluebird sporting events.
If the photos look good, its because of the digital darkroom ability of Melvin Honeyfield. If my stories make sense and the words are spelled right, its because they've passed through a gauntlet of copy editors and proof readers on their way to the press.
If you bought your copy of the Star-Journal at the newsstand, it's because Wayne Ollenberger put it there. If you picked up your newspaper at the office, Sharon Smith was the smiling person who was there to give it to you.
If we're still in business next week, it's because of the businesses who purchased advertisements from our new ad manager, Jennifer Proffitt.
There are others who help put this paper out; such as our contributing correspondents, and those of you who call us or bring in news for us to use.
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One outstanding attribute of my wife and best friend, Claire, other than her "mad math skills" is her tenacious copy editing skills.
She's been my first read-behind editor since I was 16, writing for the Heights Highlighter at Wichita Heights High School.
Monday night when I was putting the paper together, there was a knock at the office door. There was Claire, glowing and out of breath, after a two-mile run from our house.
She was ready to help me put final corrections on stories, she said, opening her clinched fist.
I had to laugh. She had carried her reading glasses with her, like a relay baton.
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Speaking of our hometown, those of you who've been following the AARP calendar know that the "Strolling Bones" were in concert Saturday night at Cessna Stadium.
A mile or so from my old neighborhood, that's where I watched Shocker football games and ran little league track, back when I rode a Sting-Ray bicycle, and groups like the Rolling Stones dominated the AM airwaves.
Our son, Garrison, 20, was invited to go to the Rolling Stones concert Saturday with his girlfriend and her mom. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea at first, but went because the ticket was so expensive.
I called his cell phone at 10:30 Saturday night. There was a lot of crowd noise in the background. The concert had just let out, he shouted. I asked him how it went. He shouted, "It was great, Dad. Those guys are really good!"
The Stones and the Beatles were considered the best when I was a kid, I said, adding that he ought to be really grateful to his girlfriend's mom for inviting him.
He agreed, saying, "I guess I really didn't know who they were before tonight."
Isn't it funny how time changes things? Imagine what it would've been like if the Rolling Stones had come to Wichita in 1968.
I could've heard them just fine in my own backyard. Which is where I would have been, knowing my Mom.
I suppose the Rolling Stones were asking themselves the same kinds of questions Saturday. Such as, "How did we wind up playing in Wichita? And, perhaps, "What year is this?"
I guess Mick was right about one thing; we can't always get what we want, can we?
— Grant Overstake
