Goodbye to Bill Bradley

I think I took every class Mr. Bradley taught.  He waited at the door and greeted each student as they entered.  Always relaxed and pleasant, he brought that same atmosphere into his classroom.  Kind and accepting of everyone's opinion, he had everyone's respect.  We loved him for his kindness, his willingness to ask questions, and his willingness to listen to our answers. 

Mr. Bradley challenged me to think about my life, to plan my life instead of just letting it happen.  He once said, "How happy are you right now?  Don't think that time or more money or a different boyfriend or girlfriend is going to change how happy you are.  Most likely your happiness right now is an indicator of how happy you will be in the future."  I've been thinking about those words for nearly 30 years, and I've found that true happiness cannot be found outside oneself.  I've found that happiness comes from within, and I take responsibility for my attitude.

Mr. Bradley was also famous for asking us to make a list.  This was a list of qualities we were looking for in a future spouse.  It also included a list of qualities that were unacceptable.  He asked us to consider whether-- before we fell in love-- we would want to marry someone who smoked, drank alcohol, lied to parents; or more grey areas: had a disability, did not have any money, did not want children, or wanted to live in another country.  No one else ever asked me these questions.  In addition, Mr. Bradley welcomed our discussion on political issues of the day, and listened attentively no matter what the opinion.  His class was one of the very few times in school that I felt my thoughts mattered to a teacher.

Mr. Bradley was a friend to my father-- a fellow teacher, golfer, and basketball coach.  I knew my father respected him, and that meant something to me.  Mr. Bradley once gave me a statue that said, "Happiness is beating your dad at tennis."  I loved that gift.  He was quick to tell me when he respected one of my decisions and equally honest when he felt I had made a poor choice.  Either way, I still felt that he liked me.

I didn't know Mr. Bradley as a father, husband, basketball coach, statesman, or in any of the other ways he affected so many lives.  I know he must have made a few poor decisions; and he probably wouldn't mind our saying it.  He never made any mistakes with me, though.  I knew him best wearing a tweed blazer and saddle shoes, sitting on a stool outside his classroom and welcoming us in. 

I have been praying for Mr. Bradley ever since I first heard of his hospitalization.  I thought he would heal and rise out of that bed for another round of golf.  I was shocked to hear otherwise.  Although I never much questioned God's presence, I do find myself questioning his decisions.  My mom said that Bill once commented in Sunday School that he sure hoped there were golf courses in heaven.  When another person said she couldn't imagine heaven without horses, he said, smiling, "Well, you just keep your horses off of my greens!"