Memories of Mounds View and my Dad, Mike McEwen - (1973 BB Championship Team)

by Jessica McEwen

As a little girl I came to Mounds View every year for the Girl Scout International Festival. My very first time my mom took me by the hand and led me over to the cluttered display cases. She knelt down next to me and pointed to a large old photograph of a bunch of boys in basketball jerseys. "See that man in the corner there?" she asked me. I nodded my little blonde bead. "That's your daddy. His team won the state tournament when he was in high school." Immediately I swelled with pride. My dad was my hero and in my mind he instantly became the star of the team.

Every time after that I would spend every free minute with my nose pressed against the glass staring at that picture. I figured if I looked hard enough I would begin to understand this man I hardly knew. He had died when I was five years old and I struggled to remember every little thing about him. The photo was one more thing I could hold on to. I suddenly couldn't wait to go to Mounds View. I imagined how cool it would be to be just like my dad.

Some time after my father died, we planted a tree in his honor on the grassy area in front of Mounds View. That too became a symbol of my dad that I clung to tightly.

As a freshman my perspective changed a little. I was horrified to find that all the trees in front of the school had been cut down to make way for construction. That was my tree and they had no right to take it away. At the least they could have asked permission. The picture of him was also gone. I figured it had been thrown away. Another part of my dad lost forever.

On the other hand I was scared. I had this recurring nightmare that I feared would come true. My mom had told me there were still a few teachers at Mounds View who taught there when my dad was in high school. I was afraid one of them would recognize my last name and ask, "Are you Mike's daughter?" Timidly I would reply, "Yes." Then they would comment something like, "I remember him, he was one of my favorite students. How is he doing anyway?" What could I reply to that except, "Not to well, actually. He's dead." Somehow this seemed like a horrible thing to admit, especially to someone who cared about my dad, in front of a room filled with strangers. But no one ever asked, no one ever remembered.

As my years in high school wore on, I put my fear and anger behind me. Instead I struggled to live up to the memory of my father. He had been perfect, an excellent student who excelled at everything. I was far from being like him. Still, I tried my best and I think he would be proud of me.

Just the other day as I was walking in the front doors of school, something in the display cases caught my eye. In what had once been an empty display case now sat an old, faded photograph. And in the lower right-hand corner a very familiar face smiled at me. I couldn't believe it. I paused for a moment, not quite able to breathe. All my emotions caught in my throat and I bit my lip to keep any tears from slipping out. And then I walked away, once again bursting with pride for my father.

This site and the event are sponsored by The MOUNDS VIEW ALUMNI ASSOCIATION, Established in l993, who sponsor alumni events, the annual Alumni Association Scholarship and the distinguished alumni award.

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