As Shirley and I journeyed back and forth to school, I realized Shirley had the confidence I lacked.
At some level I hoped her courage would rub off on me.
Shirley planted her roots of courage early in life. As a seven-year-old, she made a key decision about her life.
The year was 1937 and Shirley’s father, a rancher in the area, tipped the bottle once too often and this didn’t sit well with the straight laced citizens of Hettinger, North Dakota.
Rather than be a burden to his family, Shirley’s father left Hettinger—but not before small town gossip threatened to shed a dark cloud over Shirley, her mother Alice and brother Don.
But seven-year-old Shirley decided not to be weighed down by the criticism of her father. She recalls sitting on the steps of her school saying to herself “I’m not my father. I’m me. And I’m going to be the best that I can be.”
And Shirley went on to be the Valedictorian of her class—as well as Homecoming queen.
When Shirley and I started our venture, I knew nothing of her early life. Nor did I know that I would learn as much from Shirley as I did from some of my classes.