I was glad to see Charles Morrow when I was in Fitzhugh for a funeral a couple of months ago.
He’s slowed down some, but that tends to happen to people when they pass 80.
He was still trim, sharp and probably can still outwork two-thirds of the people in the county.
When I was a kid, he and Coach Johnson had more impact on my life than anyone outside my dad and immediate family.
Charles was a farmer from Fitzhugh who taught the teenage boys’ Sunday school at the church and he put me to work baling hay and combining oats the summer I turned 16.
I worked for him for three summers and they were three summers I’d relive in a heartbeat.
It was hot, but heat doesn’t seem to bother teenagers. I wore sleeveless shirts all day every day and now have the pre-cancerous spots on my hands and arms to prove it.
Charles taught me a lot of things - from how to rake round corners in a hayfield so the baler has an easier time to how to crumple hay in your hands to tell if it’s ready to bale. And how to be a responsible man.
It was my first full-time job, and by full-time I mean that we averaged between 12 and 14 hours a day.
It was six days, but he let me knock off early on Tuesdays and Fridays because we had baseball games on those nights.
That was when Coach Johnson took over. He came to Latta when I was in the eighth grade and was pretty much the only baseball coach I ever had.
We had a good team, making it to the state semifinals when I was a junior and to the state finals when I was a senior.
There were many times he would stop practice or call us aside before we took the field to make a point about the way were playing.
At least, that’s what I thought. Years later, I realized he wasn’t just teaching us lessons about baseball.
I planned to go see Charles and Coach Johnson and tell them how much I appreciated their influences in my life.
Coach Johnson died before I got to do that, so when I saw Charles, I shook his hand and said: “I don’t believe I’ve ever thanked you for how much of an impact you had on my life.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he said, tears welling in his eyes.
“You don’t need to say anything,” I said. “Just know how much I appreciate you taking an interest all those years ago.”