|
Jan 20, 2023
Honoring A True Hero
A member of the CCS Class of ’59
By Oliver Perry
January 19th, on a cloudy “damp and just above freezing,” day, Vance Griffith, a graduate
from Cambridge Central School, was “laid to rest” in Saratoga Springs, New York. He had the
honor of being buried with many celebrities in this historic upstate New York small city.
The Saratoga Battlefield commemorates one of the most decisive battles fought by the
American “Revolutionaries.” In their fight for independence from the tyrannical rule of King
George III of England, determined soldiers stopped the advancing Burgoyne, creating a
“turning point” in our first “Civil War.” Saratoga Springs continues today to attract tourists
from all over the country. Some come to learn more about our nation’s history, others to
watch race horses run, cheer for their jockeys, and experience the rush of betting. Some
come to see performances at SPAC. A few now and then come to read names on
gravestones and reflect on the lives of those laying beneath them. On this particular day, I
was one of a small number who came to witness an addition to a Saratoga cemetery.
In many cases the city’s burial sites contain the remains of rich, famous, and illustrious
personalities of the past. On this occasion the newcomer added to a Saratoga grave was
Vance Griffith, a humble local druggist, raised in the neighboring village of Cambridge,
graduating from the CCS class of 59. It would be fitting if his grave stone be made larger and
more prominent. But then again, perhaps unfitting. For it has been written, that, “Those who
are first shall be last.” And, “Those who have been least among us shall become the first.”
The least among us (on this earth) may become the greatest in the next life. They don’t
need lavish memorials to be remembered.
In the ordinary definition of hero Vance may have lacked credentials. But, sometimes the
lives of the least noticed on the beach leave more significant footprints in the sand than our
heroes. Large monuments correspond to accomplishments the crowd applauded at the
time. Smaller markers of the common man often unearth unheralded contributions, which in
the long run, may outweigh those of the top ponies of the day.
For reasons hard to explain, for the last twenty-five years I frequently made round trips from
my home in Southern New Jersey to upstate New York to attend key athletic contests. I
drove the distance alone in my car often for a total of 10 to12 hours just to see a few hours
of Cambridge football in the fall and girls’ basketball in the winter. With an over packed work
and family schedule, these trips came with a price. Was the price worth the expense in
terms of time and money? The answer does not matter to an addict. I recently learned from
reading a paragraph written by Gerry Preece, a local author, that I had become hooked on
“Inspirational” injections, from the valiant exploits of our Cambridge Indian athletes. We all
need inspiration for motivational living. Mine was heightened from a top bleacher at
Cambridge playoff games.
When the unexpected news appeared on both my cell and computer screens that Vance
Griffith had died, I was unexpectedly saddened. I had no idea he had been struggling with
health issues. Those of us who move from the Cambridge area and take up residence in
another state frequently lose track of friends and relatives living in and near our former
home towns. My correspondence with Vance has been sparse over the years, but recently I
had decided to make a special effort to visit him in Saratoga. His death ended that hope. At
the same time it awakened memories of Vance. In high school had been one of my special
CCS classmates, someone I had always taken for granted.
Making a round trip to and from the Capitol District of New York State for a funeral was no
more of a consideration for me than attending a Cambridge game. When sitting in the
funeral parlor, I remembered a truism from a long forgotten person: “A funeral most likely
provides more eternal value than attending a sporting event, even though it gives you less
fun!” And, I reminded myself, that attending funerals often does more good for others than
participating in a “once of a lifetime" sporting event.
Vance had a maturity beyond his years in high school. Not fully appreciated by fellow
classmates at the time was his acceptance of life as it existed. He believed in making the
best of realistic opportunities. Vance could see the humorous side of the things that we
complained about, as well as the negative consequences of always acquiring what we
thought we wanted. Vance never led disruptive coups or participated in disorderly conduct
for fun. But he always chuckled with us, after our plans were disrupted by authoritative
personalities. He grasped the humor in our failed attempts to run where only the foolish
dared to go.
Our school culture at the time gave me the impression that the heroes were those who
starred in the athletic world. The athlete got the girl. Vance accepted the idea that there
might be other actives in our CCS world which were of equal importance. He didn’t seem to
put sports into an all or nothing category like some of us did. His attempt to make our
talented high school basketball team, after months of perfecting his shooting abilities, Vance
was painfully cut from the team. Working hard, believing in his dream, and paying the price
to earn a position on the team, didn’t happen. Vance ended up in the bleachers watching
basketball with the rest of us.
Vance really wanted to make that squad. However upon receiving the painful news that he
wasn’t good enough, Vance quickly pointed his ship in a different direction. He cheerfully
began promoting his discovery that it took more than having a “good shot” to play
basketball. He began instructing us about all of the things he had learned in the tryouts
which he hadn’t realized previously. One pointer; “You don’t have all day to look at the rim
before you shoot !” Another, “You have to pass the ball where a player is going, not where
he was ! ”
While I would have been very upset at being cut and would have publicly criticized those
making that decision, Vance accepted the verdict gracefully. He instantly moved on. Vance
took as much satisfaction in perfecting his academics as he had in perfecting his “set shot”.
He excelled in courses like chemistry.
Vance’s eyes were always cheerily viewing his glass as half full. My eyes saw things a bit
grimmer. From my perspective my glass was always half empty. I never felt after graduating
from CCS that I had achieved anything worth being remembered for. When re-reading what
Vance signed in my yearbook, just before I headed up for his funeral, I had a good laugh. He
saw the humor in my depressed outlook at the time and advised that if I ever took chemistry
in college, I should hope they had lab tables high enough for me to hide under. Knowing
how short I was, I knew there would be plenty of tables for a disappearing act when needed.
(Neither of us at the time were comfortable among girls but Vance still signed next to his
picture, from ”The lady killer !”)
At the funeral, and luncheon afterward, it was evident to all guests that Vance had remained
on the specific track which Providence provided him to run on. Like a horse with blinders, he
ran his own race, staying in his own lane. As those of you who read his obituary in the
previous Eagle, Vance became a druggist after graduating from the Albany School of
Pharmacy. Earning such a degree takes dedication, brains, and commitment.
And he chose to remain a faithful employee, never an owner.
Selection of a life mate ranks as one of the most important decisions one can make. As did
many of us in the class of 59, Vance made a wise and prudent choice. Vance discovered the
woman of his dreams, while delivering drug store supplies to one of the workers in the
Health Care Center in Hoosick Falls. Using his God given charms and acquired wisdom,
Vance brilliantly conquered her. As he had learned earlier that there was more to basketball
than shooting baskets, he suspected that there was more to acquiring a woman’s heart than
flexing his muscles. He didn’t just stare at her like he was looking at a basketball rim
preparing to shoot. He “drove toward her” and instantly “slammed dunked” her with flowers.
Vance threw his kisses where she was headed, not where she had been. When the final
buzzer sounded, they were wedding bells.
Never swerving from his chosen career, selected wife, and family, Vance contentedly
remained a dedicated family man and druggist for his whole life, always helping others
along the way. Everyone meeting members of the Griffith family, quickly becomes
impressed with just how great a man Vance was. No sports star could have done better. No
family could be prouder of their son, brother, husband, father, and grandfather, than the
Griffith family.
Vance’s mother, Paula Griffith, lives in Saratoga and was able to attend her son’s
funeral. Before his health declined, and after his retirement, Vance visited his mother almost
daily. Unfortunately, in later years Vance encountered a serious physical infirmity limiting
his ability to drive. The associated side effects he preferred to keep to himself. Even as his
health declined Vance never lost his wit, his smile, his chuckle, great outlook, and
encouraging personality. He seldom complained in cases where his doctors expected
complaints. Using sports terminology, Vance played on, giving it his all, even when his game
was over. Such displays of commitment and courage apply only to champions. He may have
been cut from the CCS basketball team in high school, but his spirit was not. Vance’s
attitude embodied one of our favorite expressions, “Quitters never win, and winners never
quit.!”
During halftime, we often become personally involved with people in the stands who are not
always heroes on the field. But some of these people have become varsity players in the
boring and yet challenging aspects of life. Their performances don’t often make front page
news. They are not going to be cheered nor celebrated for winning games. But when the
contest is over and the lights turned off, these individuals are there to support us in their
humble and unassuming ways. Their gravestones will be small. But they, like the custodial
staff in our high school, enable heroes to have a field to shine on.
Over the last twenty-five years I have been emotionally lifted by the heroic play of our
football and lady basketball players. Last Thursday, Jan 19th, down deep where it counts, I
was inspired by Vance Griffith, class of ’59. He made more of an impact on our lives than
some of our sports heroes. He will be missed. Blessed is the family whose patriarch is a
Vance Griffith.
|
