92: The One for Mr. Pomeroy

 

Rick and Meredith Pomeroy, two of the best people I knew at Forest Lake Academy

I did not know Mr. Pomeroy well, but I didn't need to know him well to know he was a good man, a man of compassion and care. I did not need to know him well for him to save my academic life in high school.  I have never forgotten the grace Mr. Pomeroy showed me--grace that by definition I did not deserve.

Here's my story, my memory of Mr. Pomeroy:

The first half of my sophomore year I kind of fell of an academic cliff. I'd always been a straight A student and had found academic success came easy to me. Until tenth grade.  Between Mr. Viar's 7:00 AM Biology I and Mr. Pomeroy's Auto Mechanics class, I found myself in real trouble, though for different reasons.  With Viar, I was encountering for the first time a class that actually required me to study--something I'd never really learned how to do.  His class was hard and my usual strategies--read the book and then ace the test--weren't working. I barely scraped by in his class with a D- for the first semester before I got my act together.  

With Mr. Pomeroy's class, the situation was even worse. I have never had any interest in and little talent for working with my hands.  Fixing things, building things, all those manly arts--they were never my thing.  Pomeroy's class was not difficult--his requirements were simple and straightforward.  And yet, I had no interest in Auto Mechanics whatsoever and no matter how hard I tried I could not get motivated in that class (and let's be honest, I didn't try very hard at all).  During Pomeroy's lectures I would sit in the back row of the class with J Carlos and Robert Desamours and talk all through class.  Or work on my epic Vietnam novel I was forever working on--the one that featured all my friends as soldiers or nurses in Nam.  Or I would just sleep.

When we went out to the shop, I was the classic goof-off, hoping to ride someone else's coat-tails to a passing grade. I would stand around watching my partner--I think it was Jonathan Frey--busily changing the brake pads on one of the old cars Pomeroy always had in the shop.  Whenever Mr. Pomeroy would come by to check on us, I would make an unconvincing show of working: "Yeah, Jonathan, get that. .. .uh. . .caliper, right there. Yup, just like that. I can probably take it from here. . ."  As soon as Mr. Pomeroy moved on to the next pair, I'd continue to let Jonathan do all the work. I was really good a fetching tools, but that was about it. 

 I  know Mr. Pomeroy loved cars with the enthusiasm of a kid in candy store. I remember watching him go roaring around in that souped-up Plymouth Duster, barely able to keep from grinning at it's mighty rumble. It must have been galling to him to see this punk tenth grader show so little interest in something that meant so much to him.

When the semester came to an end, I knew I had failed. I'd done virtually no work and learned nothing. I knew what I deserved and was fully prepared for him to give me exactly that.  But for reasons I'll never know, Mr. Pomeroy gave me a chance. I think he may have given me a chance to do some extra credit or maybe he just straight up gifted me with a grade far higher than I deserved.  When the report cards came out, Mr. Pomeroy had given me a D-.  Just enough to pass.  I was amazed and so grateful! 

I don't remember if I ever went back and thanked Mr. Pomeroy for that mercy.  I feel like I did, maybe at the last reunion.  I hope I did.  Because now that he's gone, that opportunity has passed.

Mr. Pomeroy was special to our class of 92 as well. He was one of our sponsors, and he tolerated our poor class spirit and general lack of enthusiasm with patient good cheer.  In particular I recall that he was the sponsor assigned to camp with my team, The Wild Turkeys, during Senior Survival.  The way I remember it, he pretty much let us do our own thing, but he was always there--a reassuring presence in his red windbreaker and baseball cap.  My fellow Turkeys and I really appreciated him and embraced him as one of our own.

There's P-Roy, a steady, calming presence in the background at Wild Turkey camp. This photo was taken during Senior Survival, November 1991. On closer examination it appears that Mr. Pomeroy is holding a shoe.  I'm sure there is a story behind that! Also pictured are Jonathan Terryn and Rees Franklin.

My prayers are with Mr. Pomeroy's family as they grieve the loss of this special man.  He will be missed.  For now, we look forward to the day when we will see Mr. Pomeroy again, when he will be welcomed home by the Savior whose character of grace and mercy he emulated so well.