December's hurricane

I began my journey of my parents with you about this time last year. I think I can safely say you already know how my 2015 went, so I won't replay it for you.

Peaceful night in April.

Yet, in spite of it all, my faith in God grew, and I experienced one of the most blessed times of my life. Sure, I had a lot of difficulties in there, but my faith sustained me.

Then December happened. When people have talked about grief with me, they've often referred to those "waves" that crash over you ... some expected, and some not.

The wave that hit me in December — when Koda died — came quite unexpectedly. I had no idea it would be so big. I had no idea I would nearly drown.

With December came the ugliest wave of anger and sadness I have experienced so far on this journey. It was as if, in the cycle of grief, I was just getting to the anger part. That wave knocked me down so hard, I barely came up for air. I think I spent most of December under water, lungs about to explode.

I love these little furry blessings.

Don't misunderstand me. I didn't think I would just float unaffected through this first Christmas without my parents. I made plans — we made plans — to ease the journey a bit. I have no idea which parts of the plans or the things we did or didn't do made it possible for me to come up for air every so often, but I did. In every day ... almost ... I had some good moments. And while family was here visiting, I had several good talks and times with people.  I even made sure to express gratitude and thankfulness to God for the family and pets I do have. Every day.  I also stuck with my morning Bible study, meditation and prayer routine.

But after Koda died, the tears flowed relentlessly. Everything made me cry. It was as if my parents had just died and I was starting over. I was irritable, depressed, in a lot of physical pain, and just plain weepy. I felt like I had no control over what was happening to me, no matter how hard I prayed or tried to practice serenity and all that good stuff I've been taught.

Just didn't happen. ... Dammit.

When we returned from vacation, I begrudgingly put up our decorations. Dorsey did the tree since nearly every ornament was a gift from my mom, and I wasn't ready to go there. I did feel glad and more in the mood for Christmas once the house "looked" like Christmas, but I never much got into the music.

Me ... on Melt Down Morning.

I baked, which I enjoyed until I messed up one of my favorite cakes. Then I had a major MELT DOWN!! That was an "interesting" morning.

I wrapped gifts with more care than I have in the past; I tried so hard to be good at it because my mom took great pride in how her gifts looked. The presentation of her gifts to us was part of the gift she gave. But really, I just suck at it.

We decided to follow our usual Christmas Eve tradition of Mexican pile on dinner and family gifts. We've always done that at Mom and Dad's, but our house hosted this year. I felt detached instead of fully present. I suppose I was in survival mode, even though I had moments of laughing and fun.

We tried to start a well-meaning tradition in honor of my *silly dad (see story below). I felt nothing, except maybe sadness. It didn't at all turn out the way I envisioned. (Expectations are the devil.)

I tried to imagine Mom and Dad looking down at us from Heaven's portal, cheering us on. Eh ... Just made me cry.

Christmas day, I stayed in my pjs. Physically, I hurt, and Jordie and Dorsey went on to see "Star Wars" without me. (I had spent the last two days watching the previous ones to get psyched up, but I never made it to the new one.)

I just think I wasn't ready for all that festivity. I think if it had been left to me, I could have gone through Christmas without the usual hoopla. I would have just observed the reason we even have Christmas (Thank you, Jesus.) and left it at that.

Yesterday, I happily packed up Christmas decorations and got the house back in order.

I officially washed up on the sand like a beached whale (yes, really). I didn't drown after all, but I'm totally water-logged and still gasping for air.

Maybe I was a Grinch and a Scrooge this year. I didn't want to be. I tried. I really did. I tried for my family to be "good," but I just wasn't.

Maybe next year.

******************************************************

Origin of the "Dad" gift

He just looks ornery.

Several years ago, when the boys were still small and too young to do any shopping for anyone, we were at my parents on our usual fun, silly, festive Christmas Eve, opening gifts after stuffing ourselves with Mexican food and desserts.

Our family tradition is to pass out the gifts and then watch each person open one gift at a time. We go around the room until all the presents have been opened. It fell to my dad to open the last gift of the night. It was a big box, and my mom had a most puzzled look on her face.

"Willy, where did that come from?" she asked. (Willy is a childhood nickname.)

"Oh, it's just a little something the boys gave me," Dad said.

We all looked at each other like, "What's he talking about? The 'boys' can't get anyone anything."

He opened the gift and pulled out a nice pair of Ostrich cowboy boots he had bought for himself. And then he just fell over laughing and laughing hysterically at himself. He (and we) thought that was the most hilarious thing to ever happen ... and heck! Why didn't we think of that?

We will never forget ...

The Good and the Bad of Coping with Firsts

It's been almost two months since I updated this blog. I've been in a world of reliving and coping with the events of last year that occurred around this time: Mom's birthday, Mom's stroke that devastated our world, Dad's birthday, Thanksgiving, Mom's move from BSA rehab —where we still had hope — to Hillside Heights (Hell Hole Heights). I remember decorating in earnest Mom's new room at HH. I wanted it to be as festively Christmas as possible for her. I wanted her to experience how much we love her.

And I remember Dad's dramatic decline in health, and Mom's change from being our mom to somewhat like a small and confused special-needs child, and then moments of clarity as our mom. I also remember the thousands of questions and the stress Kim and I felt as we tried to find answers for the future living arrangements of our parents.

For awhile, we had hope for Mom, because she was in the rehab part of HH. Little did we know what was about to happen after insurance said, "'Buh bye, bitches! Her life is over to us, so we are done," and made her move to long-term care (AKA, nursing home).

But that's not yet. Christmas is still coming, so I'll stop with the dreadful memories.

Kim and I (successfully) maneuvered through the birthdays and Thanksgiving, albeit tearfully. I've discovered that since Mom and Dad's initial passing in May, coping has become more difficult again. More tears than usual. More pleas to God for visits from my parents. More unpleasant memories of this time last year. I'm just there again, until I fight my way back to now and the blessings of my life — and the knowledge that all is well with Mom and Dad.

On November 24 — Dorsey's birthday — the Randall High School basketball teams had their season openers at home. Between the girls' game and the boys' game, the school (which would be Principal Steve Williams, boys' coach Leslie Broadhurst, and long-time "House of Doom" game announcer Chris Albracht) took time to recognize and honor my dad for his accomplishments and contributions to Randall, particularly to girls' basketball. Kim and I, along with Jordie, Cole, Vince and Dorsey, stood on the court while Chris read the most beautiful tribute — and "the fire hydrant story." (Stay tuned at the end). I wasn't tearful. I still needed time to process things. (The next day was quite awful, actually. But therapeutic. Things happen as they should.)

The most poignant moment happened when Chris asked everyone to "stand in a moment of silence for Coach Jim Wilcoxson one last time." (I'm even breaking down as I type that.) While I seemed to be in my own world during the presentation, other members of my family noticed, and were impressed and touched by, the dead silence and attention to this tribute to our dad and granddad. The audience. The boys on both teams. Everyone, whether or not they knew Dad. Such amazing respect.

What a beautiful thing Randall did for our dad and granddad. I will be forever grateful.

And so here I am. Here Kim and I are, about to face Christmas, the holiday that has always centered around our parents, where traditions run deep. What to do and how to do it? We don't know. We just will because that's what people do. Everyone who's ever loved someone close will have to or has had to face that year of "firsts." They do it, and we'll do it. Because that's just part of the circle of life.

>>> I have to interject that Thanksgiving was a different deal. For most of our lives, we spent Thanksgiving day playing in basketball tournaments and watching basketball, from my playing days until the day Dad retired. Jordie spent (spends) Thanksgiving with his Dad and his side of the family, and Kim has always spent Thanksgiving with Vince's family. So this year, Dorsey and I spent Thanksgiving at home and with our friend Dow. <<<

Christmas Eve and Christmas day will be the high hurdle of all hurdles for us — at least so far.

So here I sit and type. I haven't yet decorated for Christmas, and it's Dec. 2. But I don't care. There are no rules. Dorsey and I leave for Curacao next week. Maybe I'll decorate when we get back? I need to for Jordie's sake. I suppose we need to be as "normal" as possible.

But interestingly and very God-like, life hasn't been all bad and grief-stricken. I've also embarked on and been engrossed with a new life and business venture that has begun for me — and I'm so excited I can barely contain myself. I've never felt so joyful about something in my life. How can one be so miserable and so happy at once? Life is funny that way. (I will share soon.)

I hope not to wait another two months to write again. It's felt pretty good. :-)

_____________________*********************_______________________

"The Fire Hydrant"

It was the first time for Jim Wilcoxson to coach against girls' basketball coaching legend DEAN WEESE from Levelland. Levelland had long been Canyon's rival in this game, and when Randall High School was born, it didn't take long for Randall to "hate" Levelland, too. It was WAR on the floor between Levelland and the schools of Canyon ISD.

Weese had won many, many — and I say many — state championships. Levelland was to be feared and revered! The first time Randall and Levelland played, Wilcoxson's team — the Randall Lady Raiders — won. (I was there. It was the most unbelievable, exciting, amazing thing I had ever experienced. Loud. Packed. Crazy. I remember how the Randall fans went wild at the buzzer. Truly one of the best days ever in the Wilcoxson family. The Lady Raiders went on to win the 1992 State Championship.)

After the game, Coach Weese was understandably not happy about the game's outcome. As coaches always do after ballgames, Weese and Wilcoxson met to shake hands. Wilcoxson, who never liked anyone to be unhappy and who had great respect and admiration for Weese, said to Weese: "Don't worry about it, Dean. Every once in awhile, the fire hydrant pees on the dog."

Yep, that's typical Wilcoxson. 

That's my dad. Oh, how I miss him and his stories and jokes.

Tribute to Coach Wil from Cristin Weiss

With her permission, I am publishing for you today the beautiful testimony Cristin Weiss Betzen shared about my dad at his funeral yesterday.

While much of my dad's service was hilarious — coaches' stories and my goofy dad stories — Cristin offered a touching tribute and another side that I believe balanced the humor with the man inside.

I cried when Cristin spoke yesterday, and I cried again today as I reread what she said.

Before I let you see this, I have to say that I believe I have found a kindred spirit in Cristin. I have been so blessed to share this journey with her. She reached out to me. She has been there every step of the way, and she has shared so many of the same spiritual sentiments I believe.

I am a better person for knowing Cristin. Thank you, Cristin, for coming into my life, and thank you, Dad, for making that possible.

****

For my coach…June 1, 2015

Please know that when I got the message that Coach Wil wanted me to speak here today…it’s one of the truest honors of my life.

When I was 16 years old, I was in his locker room.  He was asking a few people what integrity meant.  He wasn’t getting the answer he wanted, so finally he said, “Cristin Weiss, tell everyone what integrity is.” 

I said integrity is – at the end of your life, being truly proud of what you have done and who you have become. 

Cristin Weiss Betzen

I had no idea then, nor did he, that 18 years later, he would ask me, at the end of his life, to again tell everyone what integrity is.

Integrity in coaching … I could tell you that he didn’t run the score up on his opponents, that his greatest rivals were his best friends, and that he cared more for us than just as players, but that’s true of a lot of coaches, and it should be true of all coaches. 

However, the following story makes this man truly exceptional among coaches.  Last September, I ran into Coach Wil at the golf course.  I had not seen him for some time.  He told me of his cancer, this time terminal, of his treatments just finished, and his life in general, and then he blew me away. 

He apologized for the way he had treated me as a player.  He said he didn’t think he played me enough and so on.  He even cited a specific game in Plainview.  I was speechless, and I am rarely speechless. 

Fortunately it wore off, and the next day I wrote him a letter.  Some of it read like this … “I truly appreciate the things you said to me yesterday, but I feel I left a few things unsaid.  I believe everything happens for a reason.  Whatever disappointment and frustration I experienced in high school basketball was a part of strengthening me and solidifying my faith in God, my faith in my parents and all they taught me, and my faith in me.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but I can see it now, it all happened the way it did to prepare me for that day when my daddy took his last breath.  Without every bad and ugly experience I had, I would not have been ready to survive that moment or the last 12 years without him.  It all happened for a reason. 

“As for you, when I think of you, Coach Wil, I don’t think of Plainview or playing time.  My memories of you are on the golf course.  When basketball was over and I was finished playing for you, you had no reason to still care, and yet, you met me everyday at lunch to work on my golf game.  It was unsolicited and not required, and yet you came.  That is what I carry with me of you — a good man who always cared.”

Can you imagine that this man, this coach, thought about his treatment of a player for 16 years and then apologized?  So Coach Wil, I stand corrected.  That is integrity.

Integrity in marriage … Again I share with you a letter I wrote to him for their 50^th wedding anniversary…”Congratulations on being “always” people.  Let me explain.  So often the English language fails to capture the true gravity of a situation.  There have been so many times in my life where there have been no words…except for one.  One word, my favorite word, truly captures the magnitude of every moment.  Always.  I have been an always kind of person since I was born, but not everyone is.  Not everyone can live this most powerful word. 

“Well, 50+plus years together, through good times and really hard struggles, through major milestones but especially through the countless, tiny, everyday, minute moments that fit together to make up a lifetime, always together, always with love, always there.  You have lived it.  You make it look easy and comfortable.  You make it timeless.”

When I wrote that letter, I had no idea just how much of always people they were.  50 years together just wasn’t enough.  I have been forever changed by witnessing their love story play out.  Most people have to drink the poison to get their ending, but their love needed no poison, just each other. 

So again I change my 16-year-old’s answer because that is integrity.

Teebox, part 7: "A Lot to Live Up To" & "Golf Partners"

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing the final two parts of the story. It has been in typing his story that my dam of tears have broken loose. I suppose my grieving must begin. 

Luke 11:9-10 — "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you." 

A Lot to Live Up To

When I tell about the things I've learned from my granddad, it is hard to sum it up in a concise way. However, this will be concise, and I will do my best to hit the important things. 


Three things I have learned are: How to think for myself and make my own decisions, how to understand personal morals, and how my granddad changed his own life. 

Jordie, with Mom and Dad at graduation in May 2013.
My parents are a HUGE reason Jordie has turned into
such a good person.

Usually I talk to Granddad about sports or things that are troubling me, whether it's about school, sports or family. He always answers with good advice and basically tells me that I need to "go with my gut" or to pray about it. If a tough decision arises, I can use one of the many coping skills he's taught me, and I can decide based on what I want to do or what's best for me; not by what others say to persuade me. 


My granddad's morals are based on the concepts of Christianity. Through this, he has become one of the most beloved people of his peers. He is widely respected and known for the way he treats others (although he will deny all of these things, being his humble self). He has taught me some of these things, and most of it, I have not yet caught a grasp of. I'll be lucky if I ever do. But because of his influence, I find myself more caring and sensitive to the things deep down inside of me.


The things he has taught me are things that he's acquired over time. There was a period in his life when he was different, to say the least.  I know from Granddad's story, changing the course of one's life is possible. *See note.

Through the years I've known my granddad, I've never really thought about these things until a few years ago. In my life, I hope to carry on his influence. Like I said, I would be lucky to be half the man he is now when I get to be 67. I believe that to be the truth.


I know it is the truth.

*NOTE: Three or so years ago, I could share details of my granddad's story for a private school assignment. While I know he never shied away from the truth about his past troubles and was always willing to help someone who might need his experience, I never knew him to share his story in a public forum — so I'm not going to do that now. All I know is that through his faith in God and his acceptance of God's grace and forgiveness in his life, he was able to change and move forward in God's will for him. Granddad adopted this biblical truth as a way of life: 

"... but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

— Philippians 3:13-14

Granddad would say that because God does not play favorites, then if God's grace was good enough for him, it is good enough for the rest of us. All he had to do was accept that grace and move forward — and he did. I admire and respect him for that. 

* * *

"Who can ask more from a man than giving all within his span, giving all seems to me, is not so far from victory." — George Moriarty

Golf Partners

It is the summer before my sophomore year. My granddad is among average age of most of the golfers, and I am younger than most of them, considering that I am in high school. To make up for my youthful presence on the course, I wear presentable golf attire, use my granddad's expensive hand-me-down Ping G2 clubs, and ride in the cart. We travel to the course in a red Toyota Tundra, with a new car smell and the air conditioner blasting. I seek my own approval in playing — but it is my inconsistent play that frustrates me, and because I only play golf in the summer, I am timid.

I finish that summer's worth of golf and come back for another. Granddad is an easy playing partner, always choosing me for his first choice. One day, I remember during a rushed schedule, Granddad quit playing a round of golf all together because I had to leave early.

He begins to call me his "bestest bud" the way kids of the same age address each other in his eyes. He finds humor in it.

"My bestest bud," he says, "Ya know, we can play golf together any time. It's my favorite thing in the whole world. But we don't have to if you don't want to ... Ya know I'm up for it any time."

Sometimes I have other plans. Granddad, to his delight, tries to show up to every event I have. He tells jokes instead of talking, laughs with joyfulness and delivers a little joke with a hint of seriousness; the "bestest bud" joke being a perfect example.

It cracks me up. In all the time spent with him, I realize why everyone enjoys him: He's the nicest person in the world, and he has fun showing it.

***********

Remember this your lifetime through

Tomorrow there will be more to do

With some success made yesterday

Tomorrow you must try once more

And even harder than before.

Teebox, part 6: Simple But Perfect

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part six of this story.

Matthew 6:34 — "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Simple But Perfect

Granddad's perfect day is a simple one. He only mentioned four things. I did not expect a list of only four things, but now that I think about it, it makes sense to me. It seems it would be easier to have a simple list on a perfect day. It is perfect because there is not a lot to do. There is no stress, there could be downtime, and you can sit back and relax the day away. You can really soak up your perfect day and enjoy it when you add the simplicity to the equation. 

Dad, Jordie, and Jordie's dad, Dave Henry. This was
the day we moved Jordie into his dorm at Wayland.

The first thing that Granddad mentioned was that he wanted to play 18 holes of golf with me at the La Paloma golf course. I am well aware of the fact that he loves playing golf, and he has always harped on how much he likes playing when I am with him. Sometimes I wonder why this is, because one thing I've regretted most about the subject is my attitude on the golf course. I can be very unpleasant, to put it nicely. But, I know that Granddad enjoys the nature of being outside and playing a game he loves with his grandson. I guess when I become older, I will not take those things for granted either. 

The second and third things he listed go hand in hand with each other. He said that he would like to do good for somebody who needs it, with no expectations or favors in return. He also said that he would like to perform God's service. God's service does include doing good for people who need it.

Lastly, he said that living with God's intentions would complete his perfect day. This means praising God, living through the works of His word, and spreading His word to others. 

One thing he doesn't realize, however, is that he performs these four things on an almost daily basis, especially in the summer. In the summer is when we play golf together, because it is when I have the time to get in a round of golf. He always does good for somebody who needs it by simply putting a smile on many people's faces each and every day. By doing this, he does perform God's service. He also influences many people, including me, with God's word, which is living with God's intentions. 

In a short summary like that, I have explained his daily rituals, and I have described his perfect day, which are pretty much the same two things.

It is simply amazing. 

Next: Part 7: "A Lot to Live up to" 

Teebox, part 5: Working Through His Influence

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part five of this story.

Philippians 4:6 — "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." 

Working Through His Influence

There are two main accomplishments that my granddad has taught me throughout my lifespan of 16, almost 17, years. The first is the ability to play sports. Being a two-time state champion basketball coach, he got me hooked on basketball from a very early age. The earliest instance I can remember of myself playing basketball was when I was in Childress, in the driveway of my great granddad, Grandaddy Wilcoxson's, house. I was throwing a little rubber ball into a Little Tikes basketball goal, made of plastic. There is even a famous picture of me doing exactly what I just described, although I really do remember it happening.

Granddad coached my club basketball teams all the way until 8th grade, right before high school. He taught me everything I know about the sport. Golf is the same way with him. He taught me how to play golf at a very early age, as well, and he really got me playing on a course at the age of 8. He has taught me that golf is a game of frustration, a game of patience, a game of hard work, and a valuable commodity for life in instances you would never think about, like business.

That red Toyota Tundra now belongs to Jordie.
This is the day granddad gave it to him,
in November.

Just recently, in the summer of 2011, I shot a 79 in Childress, of all places. It was the first time I had ever broken the score of 80 on the golf course, which is a milestone for golfers everywhere. I never would've been able to do it without him. He taught me everything I know about the sport.

The second accomplishment is the greatest. He taught me how to have a relationship with God. Now, before I go any further, I will say that nobody is perfect. I am by no means the perfect example of a Christian. But, I am a Christian, and I do talk to God. I do not care if people who are not Christians know about that. To each his own. 

However, Granddad has taught me a lot about life, and that includes God. He is always giving me advice and tips on life. He never forgets to mention the importance of the Lord in our lives, and how important it is to be involved in His teachings. Faith has gotten me through many struggles in life, especially my sophomore year. I will never forget that.

The extent of these accomplishments will help me through my entire life, for I have already figured that out for myself. 

Teebox, part 4: Cracker Barrel and the Heart-to-Heart

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part four of this story.

"Preach the Gospel wherever you go ... and if necessary ... use words!" — St. Francis

I find myself in my granddad's red Toyota Tundra on the way to Cracker Barrel. Accompanying me is my granddad, obviously, and my grandma. It is a normal weekday on a crisp October night in Amarillo, Texas. The sun is setting and it is just barely sitting on the horizon, so it is basically dark outside. I have just been picked up from my mom's house, and I could've driven myself; however, Grandma and Granddad have insisted on chauffeuring me to dinner. They do this to spend more time with me, and I realize this.

On the way, Granddad begins his little small-talk interrogation on the present day. Usually, this is kicked off on the subject of sports, no pun intended. Today was a throwing day in my rehab program (I am recovering from a shoulder injury from baseball) and Granddad begins with questions about how my throwing went, such as the usual, "How'd the throwin' go today?" and "How many sets of throws did you end up doin'?" I reply with the usual, "It was fine," or "It was alright," and I proceed to tell him how many sets I completed.

"So your arms gettin' better, ya think?"

"Yeah, I think so. Had a little accuracy problem today, though."

Granddad chuckles and says, "So your dad had to chase down the balls today, did he?"

"Yeah, but it's because he just can't catch 'em. Well, it's both, actually."

Grandma and Granddad both laugh, and Granddad switches the subject by mentioning about how the "Cowboys found a way to lose." We talk about our distaste for Dallas and overanalyze it just like the talking heads on ESPN. Even Grandma chimes in, "Even I saw that!" and tells her side from watching it on television. Then we talk baseball because it's the middle of the playoffs and my favorite sport just happens to be baseball, so I can't control myself from talking about it. We overanalyze this, too, and our opinions usually agree. Granddad finishes the topic by announcing that "one bad thing about democracy is that the dumb-butts can have a say in whatever." 

As usual, Grandma comes back with a funny aimed at Granddad.

"Now ... by saying that, are you including yourself in the group of dumb-butts?"

The evening goes smoothly at Cracker Barrel. Granddad and I always get the Sunrise Sampler, and the day is settled.

A few days later, Granddad agrees to answer a couple of meaningful questions that I need to ask him.

My first deep question is, "What is your biggest regret in life?" 

I'm 99 percent sure that I know the answer to this; even though I've heard it only once, I have never forgotten it.

Granddad kind of hesitates and struggles to find the words, and he pauses every once in a while. "Well ...ya know ... when I was younger ... I was a workaholic ... whether it was working on the golf course or coaching basketball. I didn't have much free time, so ..." 

He takes a really long time to utter the last part, and it is a tone that is whole-heartedly confessing, "my biggest regret was not spending more time with your Aunt Kim and your mom ... That's my biggest regret."

I wait awhile for him to recover, and even act like I'm still recording what he just said to give him some time to re-gather his thoughts.

My last question is simply, "What is the purpose of life, and why are we on Earth?"

This one is easy for him ... a cakewalk compared to the last one, as he is a man of strong Christian faith. "Well, if you're a Christian, obviously your purpose is to glorify Christ and tell people about the gospel, ya know? That's the main reason we're here."

He leaves it at that, and I do, too.

Next: Working Through His Influence

Teebox, part 3: Oh What a Life!

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part three this story.

"Oh, What a Life!"

On Nov. 15, 1944, James Marvin Klostar was born.  James was adopted by Buddy and "Pokey" Wilcoxson, who were residents of Childress. He grew up in Childress while being called "Jim" or "Jimmy." He would go on to graduate as a Childress Bobcat in 1963, being an all-state basketball player and golfer. His senior year in golf, he won a state championship. This would've never happened had Texas Tech alum Don Kaplan not moved to Childress to teach Jim the game of golf, which he instantly found a passion for.

During school, he met Nicki Sooter, whom we would later marry and go to college at Texas Tech University with. He became a Red Raider on a golf scholarship to play on the team, which was, back in the day, the Southwestern Conference. This must have been a dream come true at the time, as he has always said golf was his number one love.

Jim and Nicki had two children, both daughters, who were 4 years apart: Kim, who is now 47, and Jami, who is 43. During their growing up years, Jim behaved in ways he regrets; he's been on a good path for 30 years now.

Jim went on to become the Amarillo Country Club golf course superintendent at an early age. Jim went back to college at the age of 38 to become a basketball coach at the age of 40.

Jim recalls that the only reason he got into coaching was because his oldest daughter, Kim, had nobody to coach her third-grade basketball team. This (coaching), allergy problems from the golf course, and liking coaching in general made him want to continue to coach. 

His coaching career got underway as the volunteer assistant basketball coach for Amarillo College in 1983 under head coach Kelly Chadwick. In 1985, he received his first head coaching position at 1A Booker High School in Booker, Texas, with his youngest daughter, Jami, on the team. After one year, he moved back to Amarillo to become the head coach at Tascosa High School, and coached the Lady Rebel basketball team to its first regional tournament berth in school history. 

His most prominent tenure as a head high school basketball coach began in 1989 at the then young Randall High School, which was only two years into its existence. After three years as head of the Lady Raiders, in 1992, he coached them to a state championship ... the first basketball state title in school history. Later on in 1998, he repeated the state championship win as coach of the Randall Lady Raiders in front of his family, including his grandson (myself) Jordie. In 2004, after 15 years as the head coach, he retired. All in all, he recorded 469 career wins, 139 losses and two state championships. This would earn him a spot in the Randall Raider Hall of Fame and the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame in 2005 as the 135th member.

Throughout this time period at Randall High School, his daughters each gave birth to one son. Jami, the youngest, gave birth to Jordan Cale Henry in 1995, and Kim, the oldest, gave birth to Cole Thomas Migliaccio in 1999.

Also throughout this time period and some years after, Jim showed his family and friends that he was a fighter and a survivor. He went through bouts of melanoma and recently survived and defeated prostate cancer. After it all, he is still "as healthy as a horse," in his terms.

After his retirement in 2004, Jim took up playing golf again and has only played "on the days that end in Y" since then. A usual group of golfing partners accompanies him on a daily basis, and it seems like he couldn't enjoy life more. In the summers, he enjoys playing golf with me, as well, as it is the only free time for golf that I have outside of school and year-round baseball.

His obsession with golf nowadays leads him to a mass purchase of golf clubs, tools, and a trillion golf hats that he gets his money's worth for. Wherever he can, he stops and makes a golf outing. Usually, it's at one of the hundreds of golf courses in the Dallas-Fort Worth region, or it is at the newly constructed Stoney Ridge Golf Club in Childress.

Still having his old touch, he consistently shoots in the low 70s and occasionally breaks 70 into the high 60s. The golf talent that he owns is almost uncanny, although he refuses to believe it because of his humble personality, always shying away from the compliments for his game.

When he isn't playing golf, he enjoys watching Cole and me play baseball on our respective teams. He also started working out several years ago for three to four days a week at Zach's Club 54. Being a licensed personal trainer, he also helps me with workouts after his own.

Throughout his life, he has always stayed strong in his faith in God, and his personality and influence on everybody shows this. Even now, church attendance and Bible study members include him.

He and his wife, Nicki (my grandmother) are two of the best people in the world, and they have been married for 46 strong, healthy years.

JANUARY 27, 2012: It was officially announced that Jim Wilcoxson will be inducted into the Texas High School Basketball Hall of Fame, along with five other members, in San Antonio, Texas. He will be inducted for his career at Randall High School, including two state titles and a playoff spot in every season he coached, and also for his short tenures at Booker High School and Tascosa High School.

Next: Cracker Barrel and the Heart-to-Heart

Teebox, part 2: "The Physical Nature"

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part two of this story.

What I Learned From the Teebox

"The Physical Nature"

It just so happens that my granddad looks like the perfect golfer type. He is not overly built physically, but he does show the body type of a former athlete. At around 5'11" and a "fat man's gut," as he would call it (though he is not anywhere near fat), he shows the effects of a long sports tenure on a body. These effects include a curved pointer finger from being a gym rat and shooting a basketball so much, and overall good health, except for one thing: His leather-like brown skin from spending so many days in the sun as a young man, which deteriorates the protection of his skin. He bruises easily and gets small cancers sporadically. 

His attire consists of mostly two things: golf clothes, which include khaki shorts and collared shirts, and athletic shorts, t-shirts, and caps. He has kept up with the styles, sporting the longer shorts and stretchy fabric that clothes are made of nowadays. Being from Childress, Texas, he has a thick country twang accent that exits from a little gap in the top row of his teeth. This twang is used frequently on the golf course, however. The links are his place to socialize and have fun. Having fun, for my granddad, includes talking to everybody he sees.

On "the days that end in Y," he pulls up to the Tascosa Country Club parking lot in his crimson Toyota Tundra. The country club includes two golf courses: Tascosa and La Paloma, which are separated by one street. On La Paloma, you will be met by rough terrain, rolling hills, thick Texas grasses and vegetation, and narrow fairways. It is most likely the hardest course in the Panhandle, but it is by far mine and Granddad's favorite. Tascosa is La Paloma's fraternal twin. It has many trees, and thin grass. The fees for both courses are very high for guests, which keeps the courses held for its members. The club has a tennis center and a brand new pool with mini soccer fields and a grill accompanying it.

Next: "Oh What A Life!"

What I Learned From the Teebox ... by Jordie Henry

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing this story, in parts. I think my son is a writer ...

What I Learned From the Teebox

"Sweating Out a Day in Childress, Texas"

It is the late summer of 2011, a humid, unbreathable Saturday morning. We both sit next to each other, side by side, on the white cushion of the golf cart beside the #1 tee. We wear similarly-designed golf attire. We do not have to wait on anybody. When we tee the ball up, we take our backswings, and strike the white ball into the Texas air, seemingly the only golfers on the course in the town of Childress. For both of us, a round of golf has just come underway.

Jordie Henry

On the 18th tee, I see Jim Wilcoxson, my granddad, and he congratulates me joyfully on my first round for shooting under the score of 80. He is not a shy man, for he knows everyone, as if he has connections with anybody he crosses. In his gold-collared shirt and black shorts, he still looks like a natural golfer. He has light-colored blue eyes, thinning gray hair combed across the top of his head, tanned skin, a small gap in his teeth, and a distinct smile. Although his sayings are redundant and his jokes are, too — he thinks of them on his own — when he says them, it the most amusing thing you'll hear all day because it's just plain goofy and original.

People always ask him how he's doing when he is greeted. He replies, "If I had a tail, I'd be waggin' it!" Knowing that was coming, I still smile and wait for the person's delighted reaction. Before we leave, he has to buy a souvenir (usually something for me), a white Stone Ridge Golf Course hat. I wanted to make sure it fit. It was a special occasion. We make this trip together annually.

"Jordie H. Henry, you ready to head back to Amarillo?" he asks, knowing full well my middle name starts with a C (I guess he likes the ring of the "H" sound). Then he pats me on the back. I feel like I've been playfully punched. I'm much taller than he is, but when he pats me on the back, or grabs my back with pro-wrestler-like strength, I feel like he's the bigger one.

He asks if I need "anything to eat, drink, spit, or chew," and without hesitation, I reply with a laugh, "Naw, I'm fine."

When he hears the answer, he simply steps back and laughs.


Next: "The Physical Nature" 

Dad's obituary (Klostar is a family name ...)

Note: This obituary will not appear in the Amarillo Globe-News until later in the week and closer to the funeral. You can find it online at BoxwellBrothers.com.

James Marvin Klostar Wilcoxson, 70, of Amarillo, died Saturday, May 23, 2015, in Amarillo.                                 

Services will be at 10:00 A.M. on Monday, June 1, 2015 at Hillside Christian Church Chapel with Mike Nuthman officiating. Burial will be at Llano Cemetery. Arrangements are by Boxwell Brothers Funeral Home, 2800 Paramount Blvd. 

Jim was born on Nov. 15, 1944, in Pilot Point to Marvin Klostar Wilcoxson and Annie Maude Wilcoxson. He grew up in Childress and graduated from Childress High School in 1963. Jim met the love of his life, Nicki Sooter, at Childress High School in 1960. Jim and Nicki married on Jan. 23, 1965, in Lubbock. 

Jim attended Texas Tech from 1963 to 1966 on a golf scholarship, where he lettered all three years. As a sophomore at Tech, he was undefeated in match play. Jim graduated in 1985 from West Texas State University with a bachelor of science in education. 

Jim lived with his family in Amarillo for 46 years. He worked in the golf business from 1968 to 1982 at Southwest Golf Course in Amarillo and Amarillo Country Club.   

Jim began his coaching career as a volunteer coach for his daughters’ Kids Incorporated teams. In 1981, Jim and Dr. Gerald Parker established a four-team Little Dribblers’ franchise in Amarillo, which later evolved into Southwest Amarillo Basketball Association and then into the Amarillo Basketball Association. 

In 1981, 1982 and 1983, Jim coached the Southwest Amarillo girls’ basketball teams to win national Little Dribblers’ championships. In 1982, the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame honored Jim with a Special Achievement Award for back-to-back Little Dribblers’ National Championships. In 1983, the Amarillo Chamber of Commerce Sports Committee gave him a sports achievement award for the Little Dribbler national championships.  

Jim served as a volunteer assistant coach to Kelly Chadwick at Amarillo College from 1983-1985.   

After Jim graduated from West Texas State University in 1985, he took his first girls’ high school coaching job at Booker High School in Booker. Jim coached girls’ basketball at Tascosa High School in Amarillo from 1986-1989. During the 1987-88 season, he coached the Lady Rebels to the regional playoffs for the first time in school history.  

Jim served as the girls’ basketball coach at Randall High School from 1989-2004, where he led the teams to 15 consecutive playoffs during those 15 years.  He led the 1992 and 1998 Lady Raider teams to the Class 4A State Championships. 

In 1992, Jim received the Texas Girls’ Coaches Association Coach of the Year award. He received the Texas Sportswriters Association Coach of the Year award in 1998. 

Jim was inducted into the Randall High School Raiders Hall of Fame in 2004. He received the Mike Newland Sportsmanship Award given by the Amarillo Basketball Officials Association in 2004. 

In 2005, Jim became the 135th inductee into the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame. 

During the 2006-07 basketball season, Jim, along with Dale Blaut, became an assistant coach for Coach Krista Gerlich and the West Texas A&M University Lady Buffs basketball team. 

Jim was inducted in 2012 into the Texas High School Basketball Hall of Fame.  

During retirement, Jim was an avid golfer. He became a certified person trainer and loved to work out. He was active in his grandsons’ lives and in his church.  

Jim was preceded in death by his parents, and by an infant daughter, Amy, in 1967. His wife most recently preceded him in death on May 13, 2015.

He is survived by two daughters Kim Migliaccio and husband Vince, of Flower Mound; Jami Wilmarth and husband Dorsey, of Amarillo; and three grandsons, Hart Wilmarth of Maryland; Jordie Henry of Amarillo; and Cole Migliaccio of Flower Mound. 

The family suggests memorials be sent to Lost But Not Forgotten, LBNF, PO Box 50292, Amarillo, TX 75159.

Sad to share ...

Yesterday, Kim put her hand in my dad's, and he curled his fingers around her hand.

My dad left us shortly before 10 p.m. yesterday to be with my mom and all of his loved ones who went before him. I'm grateful the party has begun for them all.

I'm even betting my dad may have found a golf course greater than any he's ever imagined.

I will let you know about the service when plans are final. It will be a memorial service in which anyone who wants to speak can do so. 

Thank you for continuing to share this journey with my family and me. 

Leah Rush's Coach Wil story

Here's another Coach Wil story for you. This one to take my mind off of what's to come.

Thanks, Leah!

***

LEAH RUSH

I grew up in Amarillo and played high school ball at Amarillo High. When I was about 16 and could drive, I started traveling around the Amarillo/Canyon area to find the best pick-up games after school and in the summers. Most people weren't sure what to think of an AHS kid, alone, showing up at random gyms throughout the area. 

I didn't know your dad well, but I knew him to be a strong coach and word was that he was a good guy. I remember walking into the RHS gym one day, uninvited. I was desperate to get a good game and heard that the runs at Randall were competitive. Coach Wil walked up - he recognized me - and welcomed me to the gym. After a short conversation, he said that I was welcome to come around and play ball there anytime. I remember that fondly. I decided he must have appreciated my passion for the game, and wanted to help nurture that. For the next two years, I showed up at the Randall gym on occasion and never felt out of place. He always greeted me kindly, and even went out of his way to help me on several occasions. 

My senior year we lost to Randall. I remember feeling like I played pretty poorly. I don't remember exactly what he told me, but I do remember that he said something kind, congratulating me for my high school career and wishing me well as I went off to Oklahoma to play. I appreciated that. 

After I left Amarillo, I kept ties with the hoops community in Amarillo. I remember when he and Coach Blaut helped Coach Gerlich at WT, and how much fun it looked like they were having (despite it being a tough year for various reasons). And I remember how much Coach Gerlich appreciated them for that. I, on occasion, would help with summer camps at WT, go to games, or generally just visit. It was always fun to chat to Coach Wil and hear about 'retired' life and his family, which he always spoke about with pride. 

After I left OU and began playing ball professionally, I often thought back to my basketball roots in West Texas. The women's basketball community there was special (I hope it still is). There were so many things that had such a profound impact on helping me to achieve my goals on the court (and off court, too, of course). There's a beautiful tapestry of places, faces, and lessons that make-up the fabric of my basketball career and my years growing up in Amarillo. Coach Wil is definitely part of that tapestry. I think of how he so welcomed and supported me (even as a "rival"); his generosity with his time and energy; and his dedication to the game and the lives of the kids who played it. 

Please send your father my sincere gratitude and admiration. And to you, your family, and Coach Wil, I send my heartfelt sympathies as you all go through a difficult time. I wish for you all peace of mind and spirit as you tackle the challenges that life undoubtedly brings; and that with each day, you see some of the joys as well.