One heck of a ride

It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was one memorable ride.

It all came back to me when I read Jay Milhollin's obituary last week.

This spring has brought far too many obituaries my way, those of friends and family, of neighbors and loved ones.

And I knew immediately that I was going to miss Jay's memorial service Saturday afternoon at Redkey Elementary School because my wife and I were going to be in Chapel Hill, N.C., attending another memorial service at the same time.

The school was a fitting place for Jay's service because he - known to generations of Redkey area kids as "Mr. Milhollin" - is forever linked to his 26 years there as a teacher and as principal.

I'm not sure when Jay and I first met, though I know it was more than 25 years ago. My guess is that I was taking a picture for the newspaper at the school when I first encountered the smiling, bespectacled, crew-cut principal.

If you spent five minutes with Jay Milhollin, you knew you had encountered a remarkable educator. His enthusiasm and intensity for the task at hand, his affection and pride in his students - particularly those who had overcome obstacles - were infectious.

He made such a big impression on me that when it came time to put together the newspaper's big issue for the Jay County sesquicentennial in 1986 I knew that it had to include a feature on Jay. He was one of those people who didn't seek the limelight but had a tremendous impact on others.

Besides, doing that story gave me an opportunity to interview Jay and get to know him better.

He told me how his teaching career started at the old Redkey School when he was just out of Ball State University in 1964, how he moved to Redkey Elementary School to teach fifth grade during the first year in the current building, how he helped principal Bob Wehrly as Wehrly battled cancer, and how he made the transition to principal himself in 1970.

And he told me about his car, although that didn't make its way into the feature story about his career in education.

The car, in the mid 1980s, was a Chevy Monte Carlo with a big engine.

Every summer, Jay told me, when he wasn't working with Redkey's youth baseball program, he was focused on racing his car at the Muncie Dragway.

It seemed so unlikely that I must have seemed skeptical when he told me about it. But it was true, Jay assured me. Every spring, as the school year was winding down, he brought the car to school to show the kids. It made a particularly strong impression on the fifth and sixth grade boys, he said.

That, I told him, is something I'd like to see.

A few years later, toward the end of May, he gave me a call. He'd brought the car to Redkey Elementary, driving over from his home in Albany. If I wanted to see it, I'd better get over to his office quickly.

So I quit whatever I was doing and headed over.

Jay was beaming as he showed me his pride and joy. And he was patient with my lack of sophistication where muscle cars were concerned.

Then he popped the question: Did I want to go for a ride?

We headed out south of Redkey on Ind. 1. It was the middle of the school day, and we were both playing hooky.

All the police around here know me, he said, trying to assure me that there would be no headlines about the school principal and newspaper editor drag racing on public highways. He said to trust him, and I did.

At a particular spot, after surveying the area for any potential traffic, he came to a complete stop.

Then he hit the gas and we took off on one extremely quick quarter mile.

We were still grinning like idiots when we got back to the school parking lot, driving cautiously and slowly and perhaps a little guiltily.

It was one great ride, and knowing Jay was one great privilege.[[In-content Ad]]