My 1st thru 8th grade years were spent at St. Micheal’s in Worthington, Ohio. Throughout my 8 years there I was my older brother’s shadow. We were then and still are now good friends and had the typical sibling rivalries and turmoils the bothers 2 years apart in age tend to have. Upon “Graduation” from 8th grade in 1965, I asked my folks if I could go to the public high school and not the Catholic high school. I did not want to follow my brother to high school where he was a popular athlete and a B.M.O.C. They agreed.

My freshman year at Worthington High School was not the best a parent could hope for their son. Especially, with them being educators. Being in a new environment surrounded by new people, I tried hard to make a name for myself and fit in. I wasn’t the only guy from St. Mike’s to go the that high school, but I wanted to expand my friends.

Unfortunately, I found the wrong type of friends. Did not do well academically, and got into some of the struggles adolescent males find themselves in trying to “make a name for themselves.” You all know what I mean. Dumb stuff. Ended up in Summer school! Needless to say, I was not going back to Worthington H.S., but to Bishop Watterson in Columbus.

A friend of mine, Scott Sekol, went to GMS. One day early summer of ’65, he and I were chatting about what it was like to go to a military academy. He was a year behind me and would be a freshman at GMS fall of ‘65. He had positive things to say, especially about the close friends he made while there.

I brought this idea up to my parents and they agreed to look into it. We requested a lot of brochures and info for various military academies you find at the back of “Boys Life”. They all were excited for us to “Come for a Visit”. While GMS was also excited for us to do a visit, GMS actually sent out a recruiter to Columbus, Major R. W. Keene. That sold my folks, they came to us.

Unfortunately, when the amount of money due came up, my parents could not afford it. I believe it was $2500/year, or around $25,000 today, not including incidentals. Dang, Bishop Watterson here I come. I was not happy.

The Kroger stores were running a match game that summer. Ocassionally, I would run to the store for my mom and always grabbed a game piece that represented 1/2 of some
denomination. One day I happened to get a $500 game piece. WOW! Maybe a week or two later I happened to secure the other 1/2 of a $500 game piece. Of course I gave those to my mom. And just like that my entire life changed and this is how I was able to attend GMS my first year, I won my way in. Where would I be today if I did not go to Krogers that afternoon?

It is funny that after all these years, my siblings and friends actually thought I was sent to GMS because I was a trouble maker. Well yes, I had some of that, but not to the degree that they would send me away. If they truly felt a need for me to get straightened out, they would have forced me to go to Watterson. Yes, believe it or not, I asked to go to GMS because I wanted to go. I wanted something different, to be my own ‘man’, make my own way as much as a young man could do at that age. I am closer to my older brother now than ever. Plus, I made some incredible friendships at GMS. Friends that remain to this day and those I would have never made if I stayed home.

Lastly, I am lucky that I was able to ‘win’ $500 from Krogers, so I should thank them. But most importantly, I don’t know how many of us think back on the hardships placed on our parents financially by sending us to GMS. Some cadet families were financially secure, some were like my family, able to send us but it was tight. Too, some of you had parents who really struggled to send you there. I do know the Moores did everything in their power to help those financially burdened families. It took me a long while to figure it out, but I feel gratitude towards all of our parents and the Moores for helping us achieve an outstanding education.

It is true, I asked to go to GMS and don’t regret it one bit. Well there was that one time when Bernie tried to throw me over A stoop, but that story is for another time.