Sleeping Giants

by Nathan Mellor

  One afternoon, I decided to go for a hike, but I was limited on time. So, I looked for something that was near the western entrance of the park. I found a few spots on the map and made my way there. I parked the car, put on my pack, and got to the trailhead. Most of the trailheads have posted warnings about any unusual threats you may encounter while on the trail. This one had several warnings about bears and about not hiking alone. I took note that I needed to stay alert and then began up the trail.

  There had been a large fire in the area a few years earlier, which had left some parts of the park uneven. For example, during the first part of the hike, there were not as many trees, and the foliage was green and full of life. Once I got past where the fire had been, the forest was thick with trees. It was in the heat of the summer, and the added shade felt great.

  As the trail began to get steep, to help manage the elevation, there were multiple switchbacks to make the trail more enjoyable for hikers like me. When hiking, I like to use hiking or trekking poles. The poles help with balance, reduce pressure on your knees, and provide a workout for your arms. When I’m hiking alone, every hundred yards or so, I will strike the poles together a few times to make a clicking sound that I hope will warn any animals of my presence.

  I had just “clicked” the poles together when I heard a noise above me. I looked up quickly, and about 30 yards above was the largest bear I had ever seen. I instinctively stopped in my tracks as the massive grizzly turned away from me and ran into the forest. You would think that a bear of this size would be easy to see among the trees, but you would be wrong. I was standing in the middle of the trail scanning for the bear that I had just watched run into the forest, but I could not find him.

  It was at that moment that I decided my hike was over. With my bear repellent spray at the ready, I began to make my way back down the trail carefully. As I was walking, I kept trying to locate the bear, but I was not having any luck. A couple of days earlier, there had been a national park employee killed by a bear within a few miles of my location, and at that point, they had not yet been able to find the bear. I told myself that this bear was unlikely to be the same one. Furthermore, the employee who been killed was riding a mountain bike when he surprised the bear, and I was on foot and unlikely to be considered a threat. As carefully as possible, I continued making my way down the trail and had gotten maybe 50 yards when a western terrestrial garter snake slithered across the trail, and I nearly stepped on it.

  It is amazing to me how the brain works. Normally, nearly stepping on an unexpected snake while hiking through the woods would have caused me to jump. In this situation, in an instant, I saw the snake, avoided stepping on it, and simultaneously remembered there were no poisonous snakes in this part of the park. Instead of responding to the snake, I continued my descent while looking for the bear in the area I saw him enter the forest.

  The problem with seeing one bear is that you tend to be so focused on it that you become less aware of the other threats around you. There is something about seeing a grizzly that inspires tunnel vision. While this level of focus may be helpful in the short-term, it can become a significant problem in the long-term. The grizzly that I saw was not the only bear in the forest. After the snake went by, I realized I was only looking in one direction and that I needed to be attentive to what was both in front and behind me. I expanded my area of focus and continued down the trail toward my car.

  Sometimes we are so focused on what is directly in front of us that we become too focused. When this happens, we are only focused on the immediate. While this may help us get through the moment, it can also keep us from seeing the big picture.

  If you are serious about pursuing a life that matters, it will require seeing the big picture and adjusting accordingly. If you are only hiking a mile or two, carrying a pack that is weighted down may not matter much. If you are considering hiking the A.T., it matters a lot. If you are interested in a life that matters, it requires a long haul. Consequently, it is time for a mental shakedown.

  What do you need to leave behind? What do you need to stop believing to be able to get where you want to go?

  What do you need for the journey ahead? What changes need to be made to your mental model to keep moving forward?

  Chapter 14

  “A Graduation of One”

  Claiming What Is Yours

  Although the natural and rugged beauty of Arkansas is undeniable, it is a long way away from my dad’s home in the mid-Ohio Valley. It was in September of 1966 that Glen and Helen Mellor proudly drove their 19-year-old son, my dad, to enroll in college. From the front steps of their home in Marietta, Ohio, it was 825 miles to Harding College, which is located in Central Arkansas.

  The windows were down for most of the trip, and they were making good time. The family car was a brown, four-door, 1963 AMC Rambler. Glen pushed the six-cylinder engine to the speed limit, and the morning air circulated through the vehicle. It was an adventure, and every mile was taking them farther and farther from home.

  The trip would take the better part of three days. Each night, they would find a motel along the way. One evening, they stopped at a motel with a pool. It was an unexpected luxury that none of them had ever experienced before.

  During the day, they would eat food brought from home, but in the evenings, they stopped at sit-down restaurants. Like many families at the time, restaurants were a novelty. In fact, the first time dad had ever been to a restaurant was the year before. He was a senior in high school and had been recognized as the player of the week on his football team, which meant he and one of his coaches received a complimentary steak dinner at a local establishment. When he got to the restaurant, he was nervous. He and his coach were seated and given menus, but dad was not sure what he was supposed to do. The waiter approached their table to take their order and he was relieved when the coach ordered first. When the waiter turned to him, my dad said, “I would like the same thing.”

  The last stop before Arkansas was a motel in Cairo, Illinois. The next morning, the smell of coffee mingled with the smell of the gasoline engine as they made the final push to Harding. As they headed south, they passed one farm after another. Eventually, they started seeing signs for Searcy, which was their destination.

  Searcy became a college town in 1889 with the opening of Galloway Women’s College. The college, affiliated with the Methodists, had a respectable, new campus with impressive facilities that would have resembled something found in the more established schools in the northeast. The grounds were manicured, and the pathways were lined with oak trees. Although the school was beloved by its faculty, staff, and students, it was not immune to the financial challenges that gripped the United States during the Great Depression. Due to declining enrollment, it was with great sadness that the doors were closed in 1933. Galloway merged with nearby Hendrix College, a school that was also affiliated with the Methodists. Although the choice to merge was undoubtedly difficult, Hendrix has thrived since and remains a highly respected institution.

  The once-promising campus sat empty and silent for a year until the leaders at Harding College, which was located in the town of Morrilton, 70 miles to the west, was able to buy the campus in an auction. Against the odds, the cash-poor school had been able to secure a mortgage of $75,000 to buy the campus, which was thought to have been worth nearly $500,000 prior to the depression.1 Although Searcy was grateful to have another school, Harding was not a sure bet, and the news would have likely caused more than a few raised eyebrows.

  Harding, which had been founded in 1924, was a relatively new school and had significant financial challenges of its own. The school had been the result of a merger between two junior colleges, Harper College, which had been founded in 1915 in Harper, Kansas, and Arkansas Christian College, which had been organized in 1919 and opened for its first students in 1922. The new institution was affiliated with the Churches of Christ, but considering the Churches o
f Christ are not organized as a denomination and do not have a centralized hierarchy, this meant that if the school did not have the ability to pay its bills, there was not a larger entity that could step in to assist.

  Whether he was aware of it or not, when dad arrived at Harding, it was an institution in transition. George Benson, had just retired as president after serving in the role from 1936-1964, and a new president was at the helm. The new leader, Dr. Clifton Ganus Jr., had graduated from Harding in 1943 with a degree in Bible and history. He returned to Harding to teach in 1946 after earning an M.A. in history from Tulane and quickly became a student favorite at Harding. He completed his Ph.D. in history from Tulane in 1953.2

  One of the reasons for his popularity was that he was a storyteller. When Ganus told a story, he did not seem to be in a hurry. An educator at heart, his stories were detailed and layered with meaning. Also, he possessed a distinctive voice that was reminiscent of James Earl Jones. Even in his 90s, Dr. Ganus is routinely asked by Harding University’s football and basketball teams to star in their recruiting videos. The request is not meant to simply be an honor for a revered man in the twilight of his life; it is because his voice and presence, even at his advanced age, is still that commanding.

  As Dr. Ganus took the helm in 1965, the school, which was on relatively strong footing, began experiencing unprecedented growth. From the fall of 1964 until the fall of 1966, student enrollment had grown by 40%. In the fall of 1966, my dad would be one of 850 first-time college students at a school with a total enrollment of 1,750 students.3

  Of the 29 major buildings on campus, 24 had been built since 1950. Although many of the facilities were new, the campus felt much older than the collective age of its structures. This was due in part to the classical design of its red brick buildings but also because of the natural features of the property itself.

  The core of the campus is designed around a large quad area. From east to west, the quad is approximately a football field wide. From north to south, the area was two and a half to three football fields long. The American Heritage Center anchored the northern end of the quad. The center, which had recently been completed, included a four-story hotel and a 500-seat auditorium. When guests arrived at the hotel, they pulled in under a large canopy that was wide enough for two or three cars to fit comfortably. The lobby would have still smelled of fresh paint and new carpet the first time my dad walked through it. At the southern end of the quad was the Administration Building, which was the most prominent building on campus. The entrance of the building is flanked by four columns, each 40 feet tall, and is intended to impress. In addition to housing several offices and classrooms, it was also home to a 1,350-seat auditorium along with a smaller 200-seat venue.

  Near the northern end of the quad is an area known as the “Front Lawn.” It is an ideal place for students to throw a Frisbee or play a pick-up game of touch football. Several large oak trees that created islands of shade on the grass below canopied the remaining two thirds of the quad. The most mature trees were already old and tall before the first buildings were constructed. Nestled below the branches of the trees, there were occasional pink and white dogwoods and numerous decorative shrubs. For generations, the quad has been a place to enjoy a pleasant afternoon.

  Under the shade of the trees are the famous, “Harding Swings.” Made of wood and painted white, their distinctive design is timeless. They are inviting and have universal appeal. Each freestanding swing comfortably seats two people. The structure that holds the swing is made of 4x4 beams, and there is a simple pergola above the seating area to provide shade. The design of the swings is credited to a Harding employee who began building them soon after the school moved to Searcy in 1934.4

  The Lily Pool or Pond, which stood directly in front of the Administration Building, would have definitely caught his eye. An oval-shaped pool, it was about 50 feet long and 30 feet wide. The friendliness of the water feature helped offset the seriousness of the tall granite columns that created a sense of drama when entering the Administration Building.

  The Lily Pool had been constructed in 1952 as a replacement of the original Lily Pond, which had been built decades earlier a few hundred yards away when the school was still Galloway College. As the name suggests, the original pond, which was a shallow earthen pond circled by stones, had lily pads and a few goldfish. The new concrete pool was painted pale blue to enhance the beauty of the water; lily pads were added along with a small birdbath placed in the middle of the pool. In 1968, the Student Association raised $1,100 to add a lighted fountain and benches nearby.5

  Once installed, the fountain dutifully propelled streams of chlorinated water a few feet into the sky before gravity eventually pulled it heavily back into the pool. Although the lily pads would eventually be removed, the original name stuck, and it would forever be known as the “Lily Pool.” Little did my father know at the time, but this spot would end up being a place of great importance for his future.

  As the sun went down on the first night in his new home, it was a warm evening. The year before, the first dormitory with air-conditioning had been opened, but he was not assigned the new dorm. Life without AC would not be too much of a hardship, however, as he, and likely many of his classmates, did not have it at home either. The hum of box fans throughout the dorms muffled but did not erase the sounds of nature’s orchestra that filtered into the open windows of the dorm. In time, the music of the cicadas, crickets, and katydids; the calls of distant frogs and the melodies of the songbirds would fade into the background. During the first few nights, everything was new.

  Sports had been a refuge for my dad since childhood. In high school, wrestling was likely his best sport with football coming in second. When he learned that Harding did not have a wrestling team, he decided to play football instead. His first year, he played on the freshman (or junior varsity) team. After completing his first season, he had expected to continue playing at the varsity level, but he was told that he could not play varsity while also working. He would have to choose between playing football or working. Whether this was a rule for collegiate athletes or a team rule was unclear, but considering he could not afford to stay in school unless he was working to help pay his bills, the choice was obvious. Without a viable option, he reluctantly hung up his cleats and walked away from a sport that had been a mainstay in his life since the sixth grade.

  Marietta High School did not have a swim team, but he had worked at the YMCA throughout high school and had been a competitive swimmer and diver there. When he learned that he could be on the swim team while also working a part-time job, he joined. Practice was at 6:00 a.m., which made it possible for him to go to class during the day, unload trucks at a local warehouse late at night, and still make it to practice. His commitment was noticed, and he was eventually named team captain by his teammates.

  SUSAN HANKINS

  Susan Elaine Hankins was born on Sunday, August 14, 1949, in Topeka, Kansas. She was the second daughter of Hank and Arvoca Hankins. Her sister, Jana Lee, was born two years earlier, and the two have always been best friends.

  Her father went by Hank, but his given name was Willis Dorven Hankins. Born in Kansas City, Missouri, on Friday, April 21, 1922, he had jet-black hair, was usually the tallest person in the room, and had a calming presence. A dedicated family man, he enjoyed people as well as outdoor sports like hunting and fishing. After graduating from high school, he had a few odd jobs before serving stateside in the U.S. Naval Reserve (USNR) as an Aviation Chief Machinist’s Mate (ACMM) in World War II. Following the war, he attended a small business school in Kansas City to learn business basics. Due to his ability to connect with others, it was suggested he focus his efforts on sales and he spent the majority of his adult life selling International Harvester products.

  Susan’s mother was born Ona Arvoca Phillips on Wednesday, January 9, 1918, to Jeston and Margaret Phillips in the small Missouri town of Braymer. She went b
y her middle name throughout her life. It is unclear why her parents chose the name Arvoca, but the word is a Chippewa term that means, “meeting place.”

  Although she was a product of the Great Depression and came from a small rural town, Arvoca had an uncanny sense of style. Confident and creative, she enjoyed traveling and learning. She drove fast, had a great sense of humor, and had an optimistic outlook throughout her lifetime. In her final years, when Alzheimer’s had robbed her of much of her memory and personality, the caregivers and family would ask how she was doing, and her response was always the same. She would smile and say, “Better.”

  Married on December 5, 1942, Hank and Arvoca were deeply committed to one another. Their marriage would provide a model of what married life could be for their daughters, Jana and Susan. Susan was born in Kansas, but in the first 18 years of life, she had called Kansas, Texas, New Mexico, and Missouri home.

  Susan’s parents were loving and devout, and they had high expectations for their children. They were the kind of people who did not argue in front of their children, and much of their social life was built around their friends from church. The pictures of them from those years are of people who appear genuinely happy. Moving so often was not easy, but it had helped bond the Hankins family together. They learned to rely on each other and would do so the rest of their lives. Although they were not a wealthy family, they had broken into the middle-class, drove good cars, and were able to take family vacations. When Hank had his first heart attack at the age of 38, their world was shaken.

  Hank made as many lifestyle changes as he knew how to reduce his risks but there was little the cardiologists could do to help. In the pictures of Hank in the years that followed his first attack, as well as the subsequent attacks, it was clear he was not well. He was only in his 40s, but he could have passed for someone a generation older. He put his things in order, and although it was left unsaid, he was obviously hoping to live long enough to see his children chart their own course.