TESTIMONIES

“The Boys and the Man”
by Mary Lynn Gilmour  2-28-06

 There he is; his smile reaches from ear lobe to ear lobe, CU Jacket hanging open, as he stands in the midst of tall trees, each with name, each a CU basket ball player, each a friend.  They had all gone to the Denver Swiss Chalet, but what they were doing there together, I have no idea, but I do know, they would have had a wonderful time.

 Let me back up a little. My Father always loved sports. Especially basketball, baseball, and football. Well………what else is there?  He lived at 9,000 feet in a little community called, Rollinsville, where even higher up than the town, (and around several curves and dips and dives in the gravel road,) there nestled in among the tons of cords of wood, and little wooded paths, and pine trees, he and his wife’s mountain home.  You could see the deck snaking around one side to the other.  His old dog “Queenie” was always there to greet his return, unless he took “Queenie” along with him, like often he did. 

 Now to get back to my story, my Father traveled the Canyon highway, for 45 minutes to get down to the CU basketball games, and of course 45 min. more to get back home. Sometimes he would see deer or elk, right out on the highway,  as he traveled this road with signs on every corner telling him another curve was coming up.  He respected that Canyon drive, and was very careful.  When he would get home, Mom often had nodded off to sleep with the light still on over her bed; her book having fallen on top of the covers.

 

The CU basketball boys came from all walks of life and of course at school, they missed their families and home cooking, sooooo, Dad would invite them up to their cabin once in a while, to go on a cook out. Mother would pack many goodies, then Dad and the boys, who towered over him like trees, hiked up into the mountains where they would find a place to build a fire, and cook their steaks. I can just imagine the conversation, and how much as well, those boys learned from my Dad; about life, about taking care of your environment, about love, and most of all, they learned the love Dad had for them.

 One winter I traveled from Illinois to the Colorado mountains to visit my Mom and Dad.  That evening there was a CU basketball game, so while Mom enjoyed her quiet time, Dad and I took off for the game. When we got to our seats, a lady greeted us, gave Dad a hug, visited with me a little as he introduced her as the coaches wife, then she went back to her seat.  From out on the floor, as the CU team was having their warm up time, occasionally one would holler, “John” and wave up to Dad.

 When the game was over, instead of going right to the car as I expected we would, Dad let me know real fast that we have to go down first to the door of the dressing room.. One by one as the tall players came out with a big smile for Dad, they’d pat my Dad endearingly on the top of his bald head, and he would tell them about a particular outstanding play or basket they made. 

 That vision will stay with me for all the days of my life.  Just recently, I ran across that black and white picture taken in 1976 at the Denver Swiss chalet.   8 of the players were standing around Dad, each their own person, each with a huge smile, and I had to say to myself….”what a great legacy my Dad has left to each of these young men, as for ever they will remember their basketball days with John Buck, along with all the life lessons he taught them during that period of time in their lives.

 Dad is still leaving a legacy where ever he is. Even though he isn’t going to the basket ball games any more, or cutting wood for the fireplace, or he and Mom traveling in their motor home to Alaska, he does continue to leave an imprint on those he comes in contact with. Right now it is while he is in the hospital, as one of the nurses was telling me how much she enjoys Dad, and it is a pleasure to go into his room.  Right now he almost cleans our plow when we play pool together, as he is still like a fox when it comes to those shots. You don’t think he is going to make the shot, how he is eye balling it and keeps moving around with his Q like he isn’t sure where to hit it, and then…. dang it all, if that ball doesn’t just go right into that pocket.  Dad and Ruth pace themselves well, depending on where their bodies will let them go, as they go for groceries, or down to dinner at the village where they live, or to the Sr. Center or where ever. They live a balanced life, positive life, a life filled with love.

 This picture, and these boys, tells the story about a man, who loves life, the people in it, and who is not afraid to make new friends. Life has just slowed down for him now, but the man deep inside is the same man, eager to learn, interested in others, and always he had a giving heart, and still does.

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Editor's Note: John S. Buck was born in 1907 on a farm in Northern Illinois. He attended the Brethren College in Mt. Morris. He was a mail carrier at the age of 19 when he also met his wife, Zelda Hoffman, and married in 1927.  They raised 2 children.  Zelda taught school, John had a truck garden, then started a landscaping business while still delivering mail. In the 60’s they retired and hit the road with a motor home. They traveled 10 times to Alaska, staying several months each time. They moved to Colorado in 1967 where Zelda died in 1990.  John married  Ruth Hartman in 1997, and they  moved back to Mt. Morris, Il. where they resided for summers traveling to Arizona. Winters. John will be 99 years old May 12th, 2006. John and Ruth share a bond of never ending love, as they now live within what ever their limits are, still reaching out to others for they were always givers, and still are.