The Season Of Giving
December 29, 2021 at 2:57 a.m.
The Season Of Giving
By Roger Grossman-
For some, a death at this time of year can make it so the holidays are just a reminder of loss.
I lost two people in my life over the last two weeks, and they will be sorely missed in their communities. One of them you know pretty well, the other you probably don’t.
If you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you about both of them.
I first met Kent Adams when he was running for state office back in the 90’s. While he was sitting in the recording studio with me, he told me that he had a son that played basketball for Bremen, and his son played against my brother Bruce.
I remembered.
We sat there for an extra hour reminiscing about basketball. Some of it was about players and coaches—specifically about how Dean Foster of Bremen and Phil Weybright of Argos couldn’t have been more opposite in their temperaments.
Mostly it was about small-town Friday nights just feel right when high school basketball is in it. It was about how, on a basketball court, all things are equal. It doesn’t matter how big a school is or what their history in basketball might be. It only matters what happens that night over 32 minutes.
He also reminded me that winning a basketball game doesn’t mean one town is better than another—it just means they can think they are until the next time they meet.
It was a fun conversation, and I will never forget it.
From that time on, I had (literally) hundreds of conversations with Kent. I would say the ratio between basketball chats and chats about anything else were 3:1.
We both liked it best that way.
His life’s resume includes being a state trooper, an FBI agent, a coach in Warsaw, an athletic director, a principal, an assistant superintendent, a school finance officer, a township trustee, the treasurer for Kosciusko County, the clerk-treasurer of Winona Lake, and a member of both chambers of the Indiana General Assembly.
But at his core, he was a sports guy. He loved teaching it. He loved talking about it.
He died Dec. 19. He was 85.
We were blessed to have him in our community, and we have been blessed by all that he has done for us.
The other person I need you to hear about is Steve Hissong.
If you worked in the shipping department at Biomet anytime from about 1970 to almost 2010, you know Steve. He was a shipping clerk.
Chances are you have a Steve Hissong story—or two—and they are good ones.
My first memory of Steve was at the little league diamonds in Argos. Steve was a coach there, and he was known all around town as someone who was tough.
I remember thinking “I don’t think I ever want to be on his team.”
And because God has a sense of humor, I ended up playing on his team.
I quickly confirmed my feelings that this man yelled, a lot. But over time I came to understand why. See, he chose me to be on his team. He told me of the potential he saw in me and he promised to do everything in his power to make me the best baseball player I could be. And then he set out to do that.
I had not been around anyone quite like him before in my life—our course, I was only 10 years old.
I am so glad now that he chose me.
On the field, he taught me how to bunt. Off the field, he taught me that getting on base by bunting was not weak. It wasn’t soft. I didn’t have to apologize for it.
Not long after I stopped playing little league, I started umping little league. I remembering hearing “are you sure, Roger?” coming from underneath that bushy mustache in the Argos dugout.
My stories about him are as good as anyone’s, but what I want you to know today is that Steve was in the Army…in Vietnam…from 1966-1968.
He was an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) driver for about 20 years.
He coached hundreds of little leaguers.
Steve Hissong died December 17 after a long illness. He was 74.
Two men, one common thread—they were driven to serve. It was the foundation of their lives. It’s what made them great.
I am better for having known them. Thanks Kent. Thanks Steve.
I hope we all strive to have that impact…because we all can.
For some, a death at this time of year can make it so the holidays are just a reminder of loss.
I lost two people in my life over the last two weeks, and they will be sorely missed in their communities. One of them you know pretty well, the other you probably don’t.
If you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you about both of them.
I first met Kent Adams when he was running for state office back in the 90’s. While he was sitting in the recording studio with me, he told me that he had a son that played basketball for Bremen, and his son played against my brother Bruce.
I remembered.
We sat there for an extra hour reminiscing about basketball. Some of it was about players and coaches—specifically about how Dean Foster of Bremen and Phil Weybright of Argos couldn’t have been more opposite in their temperaments.
Mostly it was about small-town Friday nights just feel right when high school basketball is in it. It was about how, on a basketball court, all things are equal. It doesn’t matter how big a school is or what their history in basketball might be. It only matters what happens that night over 32 minutes.
He also reminded me that winning a basketball game doesn’t mean one town is better than another—it just means they can think they are until the next time they meet.
It was a fun conversation, and I will never forget it.
From that time on, I had (literally) hundreds of conversations with Kent. I would say the ratio between basketball chats and chats about anything else were 3:1.
We both liked it best that way.
His life’s resume includes being a state trooper, an FBI agent, a coach in Warsaw, an athletic director, a principal, an assistant superintendent, a school finance officer, a township trustee, the treasurer for Kosciusko County, the clerk-treasurer of Winona Lake, and a member of both chambers of the Indiana General Assembly.
But at his core, he was a sports guy. He loved teaching it. He loved talking about it.
He died Dec. 19. He was 85.
We were blessed to have him in our community, and we have been blessed by all that he has done for us.
The other person I need you to hear about is Steve Hissong.
If you worked in the shipping department at Biomet anytime from about 1970 to almost 2010, you know Steve. He was a shipping clerk.
Chances are you have a Steve Hissong story—or two—and they are good ones.
My first memory of Steve was at the little league diamonds in Argos. Steve was a coach there, and he was known all around town as someone who was tough.
I remember thinking “I don’t think I ever want to be on his team.”
And because God has a sense of humor, I ended up playing on his team.
I quickly confirmed my feelings that this man yelled, a lot. But over time I came to understand why. See, he chose me to be on his team. He told me of the potential he saw in me and he promised to do everything in his power to make me the best baseball player I could be. And then he set out to do that.
I had not been around anyone quite like him before in my life—our course, I was only 10 years old.
I am so glad now that he chose me.
On the field, he taught me how to bunt. Off the field, he taught me that getting on base by bunting was not weak. It wasn’t soft. I didn’t have to apologize for it.
Not long after I stopped playing little league, I started umping little league. I remembering hearing “are you sure, Roger?” coming from underneath that bushy mustache in the Argos dugout.
My stories about him are as good as anyone’s, but what I want you to know today is that Steve was in the Army…in Vietnam…from 1966-1968.
He was an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) driver for about 20 years.
He coached hundreds of little leaguers.
Steve Hissong died December 17 after a long illness. He was 74.
Two men, one common thread—they were driven to serve. It was the foundation of their lives. It’s what made them great.
I am better for having known them. Thanks Kent. Thanks Steve.
I hope we all strive to have that impact…because we all can.
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