Kicking It with high school football players

Looking back, some of my happiest years were living on a farm just six miles west of town. Every day during the school year, a yellow county bus stopped at the end of my gravel drive. Weather be damned, especially during Kansas winters, each round trip became a bodacious endurance test of self-preservation.

Monday through Friday, the bus rumbled to a halt just inches in front of me. As the accordion doors screeched open and the tires skidded to a rolling stop, passengers had to scramble up the two stairs before the driver popped the clutch and surged into first gear.

This momentum was enough t...