When I was 27, a friend of mine from college, Mike, was putting together a men’s softball team and asked me to help recruit players. I mentioned that I had a couple friends that lived in our area that I grew up playing baseball with in Merritt Island, FL … Andy Williams and Darryl Spencer. Mike anxiously asked: “Darryl Spencer, the wide receiver that played for the Hurricanes?” I answered affirmatively and then went on to explain that he was also an excellent baseball player through high school. Mike was excited, so I called my friends and they both decided to play on our team – Darryl in center field, Andy at second base, and me at catcher, just like 10 years earlier at Merritt Island High School.
About three games into the season, we were in the field and the opposing team had a runner on first base, and two outs. The batter slammed a ball off the center field fence. Darryl fielded it practically off the fence, relayed a rope to Andy, who then rifled it to me to tag out the runner trying to score from first base. Out number three was an awesome display of defensive execution not seen on a men’s softball field. Immediately after the runner was called out, Darryl was chanting “Island, Island, Island”. I must admit that I hadn’t even put it together, but that play was all Merritt Island – the fielding, the relay, and the tag. As we were entering our dugout, Mike looked at me and asked: “Is he chanting ‘Island’? He’s got a national championship ring from UM and he still cares about his high school? You guys are unreal.”
We are unreal. Merritt Island was unreal. The time in which we grew up there was unreal. I grew up in the greatest community at the greatest time ever. Am I exaggerating? No, I’m not. If you ask anyone who grew up in Merritt Island during the 1960s, 70s, or 80s, they’ll say the same exact thing. I run into people frequently who tell me they have a neighbor or coworker from Merritt Island and they ask me the same thing: “What’s with you guys? Do you talk about Merritt Island as much as they do?” The cool thing is that they’re rarely my age. I grew up there in the late 70s and 80s, and I hear these stories about people who might have been class of 1968 or 71 or 83 or whenever … it’s not just my friends, it’s Merritt Island and what was happening there during those three decades.
Below are five reasons that made Merritt Island such an awesome community to live in during that amazing time.
- We had a mission. The community was built on NASA, and the mission of NASA became the mission of Merritt Island. I grew up during the time of getting a space vehicle to launch into orbit and safely return to Earth in the same shape, and to fly again and again. It was the space shuttle program. All our parents, whether they worked for the space program or not, were focused on this one goal. When a community has one mission, it’s children cling to the same mission. Without realizing it, we were learning the excitement, struggles, and joy that comes with pursuing a goal … a goal that was being watched by the entire planet… and we were in elementary school. How cool is that?
- The center of everything was our high school athletic program. Merritt Island High School graduated its first class in 1966. By 1972, we won our first state championship in football. We went on to win the state championship again in 1978 and 1979. I’m not sure if it was by design or coincidence, but we attracted some of the state’s finest young coaches. Like most programs, the funding follows football and the other sports benefit. We were on a roll. Between my third and sixth grade years, every single kid has a Mustangs jacket. When I say every kid, I mean every single kid.
I have a Mechanical Engineering degree from one of the finest engineering schools in the country (University of Florida), I was a leader in my college fraternity and other organizations that delivered fantastic training, and I’ve received some awesome corporate training and mentorships in business. However, the very best teachers I’ve had were my baseball and football coaches at Merritt Island. You can keep Aristotle, Rumi, Thoreau and Hawking. I’ll take Williams, Neal, Carrillo, Snyder, Moore, Odom, Hodgin, Pribble, and Staples any day. Through two different sports, these men taught me how to be a husband, father, son, friend, and neighbor. These men taught me how to succeed and fail. These men taught me how to be a man.
- Merritt Island was Middle Class, USA. The space program provided thousands of good jobs. We didn’t experience any software booms or real estate crashes. There were no Lamborghinis or clunkers on the streets (except my dad’s Sanford and Son pick-up) – Courtenay Parkway and 520 was full of Ford Thunderbirds and Toyota Corollas. We went to Pizza Hut or Chili’s for our nights out (Little Venice and Broadway Deli for the locals). We spent weekends on Cocoa Beach or Jetty Park, and since we were all transplants, we vacationed at our old hometowns. Even though it was an hour away, we went to Disney every year or two … maybe. As I said, it was Middle Class, USA … and it was incredible.
- Our gene pool was pretty darn strong. When a community is full of technicians, project managers, engineers, and physicists working for NASA, you tend to get a pretty solid group of kids. I know, I know, this is probably not the nicest statement because it implies that some people have better DNA and pedigree than others; but I’m allowed to say this because my family didn’t work for the space program and I’m adopted. I’m not bragging – just sharing my observation of the brilliance that surrounded my childhood disguised as moms and dads and neighbors.
- We were isolated from other communities – sort of. For the most part, Merritt Island had one high school. Several elementary schools fed into two junior highs which fed to MIHS. For any of us to leave the island we had to drive across a bridge to the main land or the beach. For kids, that pretty much meant we were isolated. Living in Orlando today, I see kids that are friends across different high schools. Sometimes, there will be a group of six kids hanging out that attend three different high schools. A street could separate where one attends, not to mention the plethora of private school options. We didn’t have those choices – we were all Mustangs from day one and we knew it. We didn’t hang out with anyone from Cocoa Beach or Rockledge until maybe high school … and that was limited to those kids that had cars.
This isolation created a sense of pride that was a bit out of balance, but I loved it. It’s that imbalance that keeps us glued to Facebook on Friday nights during football season, 30 years later. It’s that imbalance that taught us the happiness that comes with commitment to a mission or a community. It’s that imbalance that gets me up in the morning before anyone else to joyfully push my business to the next level. It’s that imbalance that pulls me into trying to create the same type of environment for my daughter. I believe that imbalance was partially because all we had was each other.
As I’m proof reading this post, I realize that it sounds a bit elitist, one-sided, and almost exclusive in nature. I envision my fellow Merritt Islanders enjoying this post, my clients thinking it’s kind of cool and appreciating getting to know a little about my childhood, and a few of you thinking we’re a bunch of nutbags. These feelings are ok with me. We do act like a bunch of nutbags sometimes, but I’ll take that any day over indifference and boredom. My childhood was an anomaly … it was special. I fully understand and appreciate that we grew up at a special time and in a special place – and I’ll forever be grateful for that experience.
