I sort of feel compelled to tell this story, even though it’s not entirely on topic. I grew up in a small town where just about all of the kids in had attended a kindergarten taught by a marvelous woman named Esta. When I was in her class I got mad at her one day and kicked her so hard in her shins that it made her cry. I think part of what had happened was that I’d just gotten my hand slammed in a car door, and wasn’t in a mood to take any direction. At any rate, she never retaliated in any way… and I was rather ashamed of what I’d done. She heaped “coals of fire” on my head, by treating me with kindness and understanding. Long after Esta had retired she was often seen riding around town on he bicycle, and any of her former students could drop in at any time for a glass of lemonade and a talk. She also did volunteer work to help the indigent in the town.
One of the indigents that she had cared for went to her home one day on a pretense to play “cribbage,” and while there he raped her. Not wanting to be caught he drove her sixty miles, killed her, and threw her over a large falls.
Again, I feel as though I have to share this story in order to honor Esta in some way as an extraordinary person, who is still in hearts of a generation of her students. She taught us kindness and acceptance, lessons that I may not have learned perfectly, but that are still with me after half a century.
Oh yes, her murderer was caught almost immediately. A number of her former students had seen her in the pickup with him on that day, and had directed the police to the creature.
