Joey died on December 8, a cool Tuesday in 2020. I just found out today.
He lived in a small town in central Iowa. It’s been over 20 years since I chatted with Joey at a little cafe on the edge of his town off Highway 30. I remember laughing until tears came to our eyes about the good old days (as if that day would not soon become another good old day).
Joey and I went to graduate school together at Iowa State. We were both getting Master of Science degrees in higher education under ISU’s wonderful dean of students, Art Sandeen.
Joey had always been an excellent student. I had not. Back then, master’s students had to take an oral exam before graduating. Joey was bursting with confidence. I was stammering foolishness over a beer and a hot beef sandwich. Joey urged me forward, helping me articulate the history of universities in England in the 1940s.
Later that month, I entered a bare classroom, scared to death. Three professors sat across from me. Art Sandeen smiled and gave me one of his twinkling winks. I remembered Joey’s entertaining descriptions of higher education in foreign lands.
Two hours later, I left the room smiling. I knew I had nailed my oral exam.
Thanks, Joey. I will always remember.