If you happen to be a reader who has attended some of my live events, you may have heard parts of this story before, but some things are worth repeating.

This week I received a note from Bart Nadolski, the son of Edward Nadolski, a guy who graduated from Bisbee High School in 1959, three years ahead of me. His father had recently passed away, and Bart was reading, Trial by Fire, an Ali book where Bart’s grandfather’s name appears on the dedication page.

The dedication reads as follows: In memory of Anthony Nadolski and to Ernie Gabrielson, two outstanding Bisbee educators. I didn’t meet Ernie Gabrielson when he was in Bisbee, but after teaching there he went on to have a long career in Cottonwood. I met him when his wife hosted one of my signings—complete with a cake that matched the cover of the then-current book. Ernie became a devoted fan and remained so long after his wife passed away.

Anthony Nadolski was another story entirely. He stayed put. He was my principal for most to the time I was attending schools in Bisbee—from kindergarten through sixth grade at Greenway and during all four years at Bisbee High.

Mr. Nadolski was a tall, thin, but broad-shouldered man who always dressed in impeccable suits and ties. I don’t believe I ever once heard him raise his voice.

As a kid, I was a regular stumble-bum. My mother used to claim that there was never a school play or Sunday school program when I didn’t have a scraped knee or two. The worst of those happened on Mr. Nadolski’s watch. I was giving Linda Englander a piggy-back ride when I tripped, fell, and ripped my knee open on the newly gravel-paved playground.

I went straight to the office where Mr. Nadolski bandaged it up and sent me home. It was an ugly gash. Once my mother soaked off the bandage, she took one look at the damage and then had to sit down and put her head between her knees for a time before she could shape up and finish the job.

I believe she said something to the effect that I should have gone to the ER, but given that ER visits cost money which was always in short supply, she did what she had to do, fixing me up with bandaids and Bactine. (By the way Busk kids lucked out on that score. Evie believed in Bactine and NOT that dreaded red Mercurochrome which, fortunately, is no longer available.)

By the way, that one-and-a-half inch scar is still front and center on my knee.

Given all of that, you may be wondering why I called him a wonderful educator in that dedication, and I’m about to tell you: He’s the reason I’m a writer. Without his being my elementary school principal, that might never have happened.

At Greenway School, each grade had two separate classrooms. Mrs. Kelley and Miss Geraldine in first grade; Mrs. Spangler and Mrs. Barker in second. It was Mr. Nadolski who decided which kid went where. I don’t know how he happened to place me in Mrs. Spangler’s class, but he did, and that made all the difference.

In her room, over under the windows were shelves filled with Mrs. Spangler’s own books. If students finished their work early, they could go to those shelves and choose a book to take back to their desks to read. It was among Mrs. Spangler’s books that I discovered the inspired works of Frank Baum. I was fascinated by his Oz stories, but what struck me most was that somewhere, a living, breathing person had put all those words on the pages, and that’s what I wanted to do—put words on pages, something I’ve been doing now for a very long time.

Thanks to Mr. Anthony Nadolski who, when dividing up that bunch of fifty or so second graders, chose to put me in the right one!

By the time I was in seventh grade, Mr. Nadolski had moved up from Greenway to Bisbee High School. There were approximately 800 students there at the time, and he knew all of us by name—not just the bad kids or the good kids. He made it his business to know ALL the kids.

During our senior year, Anthony Nadolski, always Mr. Nadolski to us, was diagnosed with lung cancer. I don’t know how old he was, but I’m guessing somewhere in his fifties. He passed away prior to our graduation. His photo was front and center in that year’s Cuperite, Bisbee High’s yearbook.

I didn’t have a chance to thank him in person in back in 1962 because, at that point in my life, I had no idea of how much that one decision on his part, the one that placed me in Mrs. Spangler’s class, would impact my whole life.

I’m thanking him now by passing along these personal recollections for the benefit of his family who are now grieving for the current loss of Mr. Nadolski’s son, Edward.

As I said above, better late than never.