Returning to Clyde

Bob Hays Becomes My Friend

When we moved back to Clyde, I already knew many of the students at the new school, and they all seemed anxious to welcome me back.  Unfortunately, the newness wore off pretty soon, and I developed some enemies.  I guess that’s the way it always is with kids in school.  It’s easy to pick on the new kid, although in this case, I was an old kid who had become a new kid.

My seventh grade teacher’s name was Evelyn Scott.   She was the wife of a cattle rancher, but quite sophisticated and enlightened for a woman living in Clyde.   She was also the music teacher for 6^th, 7^th, and 8^th grades.   She tried to whip some of us into shape as a choral group.  My voice had not changed, and she wanted me to learn how to sing alto, but I insisted on singing in a falsetto soprano. I think she must have struggled to get the best out of us.  When she taught us to sing together, she had a fit when we failed to clearly pronounce consonants on the ends of words.  She would not be the last choral director I would meet who emphasized the importance of pronouncing consonants.

Mrs. Scott found a seat for me near the back of the room.  I sat across from a wise-cracking young man, who had not been in the Clyde school when we had lived there previously.   His name was Robert Leslie Hays, known to most people as Bob.   Bob was the son of a dairyman, who was a deacon in the Clyde Church of Christ.  So we not only sat next to each other in school, we grew up in the same church together.

Little did I realize that Bob Hays would become my lifelong friend.  We had a lot of good times together.  Sometimes we got in trouble together.  We were roommates in college.  He was the best man at my wedding, and I was the best man at his wedding.  I’ll have more to say about him as we go along.

The last time I saw him was in 2010.   Ann and I were driving home from Texas. I realized we would be passing pretty close to the place where he lived.  It was about lunch time, so I got on the cell phone and asked him to meet us at the Cracker Barrel in Burleson, Texas.   When he met us, I said, “Bob, you’re really looking good.”  He said, “Looks can be deceiving.”  He was dealing with a health problem that would end his life in less than a year.  I was so glad that we made the call.  Bob was a true friend, and I miss him a great deal.