A tribute to a community and a daughter

Dear Editor,

Back to the year 1991, I made a choice to change careers from being a detective with the Michigan State Police to college instructor. Of all the places to end up at, it was the community of McCook, Nebraska, at McCook Community College.

I would like to point out that I did not choose McCook College, rather the college picked me. Later, one of the interviewers, Rodney Horst, told me the reason I was picked over other candidates, was because I stated, "I don't care how much the pay is, I only-want to teach." They should have known then that I was not a sane person.

After the decision was made to accept the offer to teach at McCook College, which was a major decision on my part which I will explain later, I ventured to McCook with my wife to find a place to live. On the way to Nebraska, we brought a tent and sleeping bags because I told her it was a long drive and we could stop on the way and camp out for a night. We stopped at a small campground in Nebraska near the freeway. After I completed setting the tent up, my wife, Carla, was inside spreading the sleeping bags out and rainstorm hit. I jumped in the truck and Carla remained in the tent and at that instant the rain turned to hail. After the storm, I administered first aid to Carla for all the bumps on her head, using the ice from our cooler. After the event of camping, we continued our journey to McCook, located an apartment to live in and I showed her around the town, which was similar in size to the roots of our home town, except it did not have a college within.

Back to the reason for the major decision to take the job. We left our two daughters behind in college, sold our house on a land contract, leaving us with no money to purchase a home, and, of course, our heritage for the love of Michigan.

We rented a U-Haul truck and trailer to move what was left of our worldly goods and headed west in what I describe as our covered wagon like the other dumb Michigan Farmers, which I will explain. My first year at McCook, the college brought a speaker who was a historian who talked about the settling of Nebraska. He pointed out that it was the railroad coming to the state that really impacted the state.

The railroad had small plots of Iand next to it and sold the plots to the dumb Michigan farmers, promising them prosperity. During the lecture and this very point of "dumb Michigan farmers," Rodney Horst broke out laughing and pointed at me.

Before the first day of class, I decided to take a bicycle ride, and was indoctrinated into the storm drain grates, which are completely different than Michigan's. You see, our grates are small square openings that will allow a bicycle tire to go over it with out danger, not like the elongated openings of Nebraska's. Needless to say, when I drove into it, I went head over heels landing on my dumb Michigan head and cutting it open. Bleeding from the head injury, and looking at my bent front tire, I was pondering if the move was the right thing to do. After a visit to the McCook hospital and having my forehead stitched, I looked like a prize fighter for my first day of class.

During my first year at McCook, my oldest daughter, Karry, had dropped out of college and joined us with the promise to finish her college degree. Karry had been told by her friends that she was going West, where cowboys rode horses down main street with guns strapped to their sides while cattle roamed through the town. We assured her that was not the case, and Carla took her to town to show her the truth.

Lo and behold, a large cow had gotten loose and was seen running down main street, convincing her that her friends were right and we were wrong. Karry enrolled at McCook College and took a part-time job of waiting tables at the Sports Bar.

This is truly were Karry learned how to handle customers and met many wonderful people at the same time. We spent our first Christmas in McCook and laughed at the local farm implement sales using tumble weed for their Christmas decorations. You see, we do not have tumble weed in Michigan.

During my first year at McCook, and during the Spring of 1992, skunk traps were placed on the campus lawn to rid it of skunks and prohibit them from digging for grubs in the yard.

When I ventured to the second floor of Barnett Hall one morning, I saw the three devils of the college at the large window looking out over the campus laughing. The three devils I refer to were: Jim Steward, Rodney Horst and Stan Garretson.

I asked what was so funny, and they pointed to a skunk cage next to the walkway which contained a stuffed seal. They were watching the students' reaction to the stuffed seal trapped in the cage.

I thought "these three need to get a life" and went on to teach my class. Next came Ground Hog Day, and the three had placed a stuffed dog next to the Hall adjacent to the entrance and again watching the student reaction. I though to myself, maybe this can show some promise to incite further interest around the college.

After my class ended, I went outside and snatched the stuffed dog which the three devils had dubbed

"Ground Dog." I placed him in my file cabinet and ventured up stairs, where the three were talking about someone taking the poor pooch.

When my wife came to the college to pick me up, I showed the dog and explained what was happening. We went home and drafted a ransom note from a printing of the McCook Gazette and went to the college early the following morning, sliding the note under Rodney's door. The note read, "We have Ground Dog and want $30,500 ransom or two large pizzas and a case of beer; respond McCook Daily Gazette personal ad and don't call pet patrol or police."

When I ventured to my class, the three devils were pondering the note, and when I inquired, they showed it to me. I asked them what they were going to do and they replied nothing.

My wife and I constructed a second note along with a picture. The photo was of Ground Dog with his paws taped behind his head and a knife to his throat, stating, 'We are serious, maybe death. Ground Dog says yip, yip, yip."

The photo was taken with a piece of plywood behind it, and Richard Driml's wall had plywood on his office walls. I planted the stuffed dog in Driml's office and delivered the second note under Rodney's door. This all led to the recovery of Ground Dog, Driml took the fall for the kidnapping, but that was not the end of ground dog's adventure.

He was later taken from the main lobby of the college, where he was sitting, celebrating his safety. However, he was later kidnapped a second time.

The following year brought March Madness, and the Michigan basketball team making it to the final match. As we all know, Chris Weber called a timeout in the final seconds, and Michigan did not have any time outs left.

This led to a technical foul, ultimately leading to a Michigan defeat, and my coming misery, being a dumb farmer from Michigan. Upon arriving at my office in the morning, I found a drawing of two hands in the typical time-out gesture, under my door. This wasn't enough, because upon entering my classroom, the same type of drawing was on my blackboard with the entire class erupting in laughter.

Thinking this was the last, Christmas rolled around. While talking to other faculty at the door of the restaurant where we held our Christmas dinner, a waitress who was one of my students handed me a large box. I asked what it was and she shrugged her shoulders, saying someone who she did not know dropped it off for me. When I opened the box, there was a picture of Chris Weber with his infamous time-out signal framed, and underneath that was Ground Dog, which I still have today.

I could go on with stories of the students and faculty, along with many memorable members of the community of McCook, but have to end this story somehow.

Instead, I made the mistake three years after arriving of taking another position in Oklahoma, leaving McCook behind, and one of my most valued assets, my daughter Karry.

I understand she has become a valued asset to the community of McCook and the newspaper the McCook Gazette where she works. I have three wonderful grand sons in Johnny, Erin and Zack, along with her husband Ben. I have heard stories about things she has done for the community and I am very proud of her.

Please take care of her and her family for I am no longer able too do so.

Jerry Boyer,

Coldwater, Michigan

Proud Former Resident of McCook, Nebraska