I attended a celebration of life this past weekend for my head football coach in high school, Gene Strode.

The stories shared by his children and friends still swells my heart. He was such a great father, husband, coach and man. He cast a living and lifelong impression on thousands.

It is fitting that he returned to farming upon his retirement.

I say that because he spent his entire career planting the seeds of potential, performance and passion within his players, assistants, kids, friends and community. He could see in others what they could not yet see in themselves, until they blossomed. And being the farmer that he was, he nurtured a continuing, healthy and prolific growth though out the season of his life.

He was careful to eradicate the weeds we grew by acting out of character. Minimized the manure we told our ourselves and tried to sell others. Watered us just right with praise, affirmation and discipline.

He radiated genuine, fatherly guidance and love to all that came his way. That is what made us grow so upright and strong. To this day, and to a lasting extent, we are who we are because we were all raised the same way by Coach.

A farmer of men.

Even though it has been close to fifty years, I could still feel all of that and then some when me and some of my teammates huddled this past Sunday. We did some truly great things together. Cause he saw it in us.

Then cube that sensation when all of us huddled together, as one, for Coach.

Every fall, he he grew us to be his bumper crop.

And every fall since, there hasn’t been a season gone by that I don’t feel his presence in my life. Whether it is the weeding, an awareness of an overabundance of fertilizer, or his way of watering us for growth, his radiance remains.

Now I get to walk those fields too.

For he taught me to be a farmer.

My true vocation.

Thank you Coach Strode.