Words From The Warden

Lately, I find myself overwhelmed by troubling news from Iran, the reality of hunger among our neighbors, the upward spiral of the cost of living and the hateful comments directed toward those who are “not like me.” The list seems endless, and it is easy to become consumed by these concerns. In the midst of it all, I sometimes forget that God calls us to embrace laughter, silliness, and moments of fun. Scripture reminds us that enjoyment is a gift from God (Ecclesiastes 3:13), and that “there is a time to weep and a time to laugh” (Ecclesiastes 3:4). With that in mind, I want to take a moment to share some experiences I’ve had, hoping to bring a little joy into our lives.

I am the oldest of three brothers. Steve is five years younger than me, and Mike, the middle child, is two years behind me. One memorable event occurred in our backyard when we lived in “downtown” Johnstown, Ohio, right across from Town Hall. My brothers and I were playing together when, for reasons I cannot recall, I struck Mike on the head with a plastic whiffle ball bat. Naturally, the seven-year-old began to cry. My mom rushed out the back door to see what was happening. I quickly explained that I had merely tapped Mike with the bat and that he was just being a baby. However, the welt across his forehead proved otherwise, dispelling my claim of a gentle tap. In response, my mom gave me a whack with that same orange whiffle ball bat. I learned firsthand that I was wrong—it did hurt. That day, I learned an important lesson: to consider how my actions might feel to others, and whether I would want to be treated the same way.

During my days as a basketball official, I once worked a game at the University of Toledo alongside a female partner. Because we had separate locker rooms, we each got ready on our own and then met to discuss the pregame plan, going over what to expect and how we would handle different situations together.

The game itself was exciting, even though the crowd in Toledo's Savage Hall was sparse. Kelly Savage, whose family the arena was named after, played exceptionally well and scored repeatedly. The lead changed hands so many times that I eventually lost count. Near the end, Savage made a long shot—back before the three-point rule existed—and the ball sailed through the basket just as the buzzer sounded.

With the game finished, I ran off the court toward the locker rooms, removed my shoes, and began to relax, feeling satisfied with a job well done. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The University of Toledo team manager appeared and asked, “Coach wants to know if you’ll be able to come back out and finish the game? We went into overtime.”

At that moment, I realized the importance of paying attention and not making assumptions—even when things seem to be over. That day, I learned firsthand that there are times when a person should truly pay attention.

One Thanksgiving, we hosted my mother’s family at our home in Marion. My mom’s family is large—she has two brothers and nine sisters—so gatherings were always lively and full of energy. That particular year, the weather was unusually warm, which gave us the perfect excuse to enjoy a spirited basketball game in our driveway. After working up a sweat, everyone headed inside to grab a drink and cool off.

My dad poured himself a glass of what appeared to be “Kool-Aid” and drank it down without hesitation. Watching him, my Uncle Fred decided to pour the remaining liquid into his own glass and took a drink as well. Almost immediately, Uncle Fred made a terrible face, but not wanting to seem hesitant after seeing my dad drink it, he forced himself to finish the glass. It was then we discovered that what they had both just guzzled wasn’t Kool-Aid at all—it was pickled beet juice, basically red vinegar.

This experience taught us all a memorable lesson: if you do something with conviction and confidence, others are likely to follow your lead—even if it turns out to be a mistake. Sometimes, it’s not just the action itself, but the confidence with which it’s done that inspires others to join in.

During my time working with the Ohio High School Athletic Association, I was fortunate to develop lasting friendships with colleagues from other state offices. One of my closest friends is Larry Boucher from Kentucky, a bond that remains strong to this day. Our friendship was strengthened during a national meeting held at a beautiful Marriott hotel in San Diego. After the formal conference activities concluded, it was a tradition for many of us—sometimes as many as thirty friends—to gather in the hotel lobby or bar to relax and enjoy each other’s company before going our separate ways.

I arrived late to the gathering on the final night of our convention and decided to buy a round of drinks for the group, and then another round after that. When the bill arrived, I mischievously chose to charge the drinks to Larry’s room. Months later, when Larry and I met up again, he recounted to me how he had been billed for a couple of hundred dollars’ worth of drinks. I admitted that I was the one who had put the charges on his room and offered to reimburse him. However, Larry had already made such a fuss with the hotel that they eventually removed the charges from his bill. As a result, I never ended up paying Marriott for those drinks. And Larry never shared his room number with me again.

This story always reminds me of the words of Warren Harding: “I have no problems with my enemies… but my friends… they keep me up at night.” Friends have a unique way of making life interesting, sometimes even more so than our adversaries.

During my tenure as Athletic Director at Eastwood High School from 1985 to 1989, I was fortunate to work with a dedicated staff and a great group of students. Our math teacher and Football Coach, Jerry, had spent years working tirelessly to build up the football program. His efforts showed: he managed to transform an 0-10 team in 1982 into an undefeated team by 1986.

As we approached the ninth game of the ’86 season, the 8-0 Eagles were scheduled to face the Gibsonburg Golden Bears, whose record stood at 3-5. Despite Jerry's enthusiasm and hard work, the team was struggling during practice that week, distracted and looking past their upcoming opponent. On Thursday, Jerry and I were at school supporting the girls volleyball team. During the third match, I excused myself and asked Jerry to meet me in the shop afterward. There, I took a piece of plywood and crafted a “tombstone,” painting “GHS - 34” and “EHS - 0” in blood-red letters and adding splatters to resemble blood spots. Jerry was curious about my intentions, so I invited him to join me outside.

Together, we dug up the school yard in a spot where every student would pass on their way into the building, piling the dirt to mimic a grave. We placed the headstone and, by 11 PM, both headed home, unsure what the reaction would be.

The next morning, I arrived at school around 6:30 AM, and students began arriving by 7. The sight of the grave on the school yard fired them up, and their “enthusiasm” was palpable. While I enjoyed seeing their excitement, Jerry grew concerned that our stunt might get us into trouble. As I walked into the school office, I overheard my principal shouting on the phone at Joe, the Gibsonburg principal, accusing his students of vandalizing our school. Realizing the misunderstanding, I quickly confessed to my principal that I was responsible for the display. He kept my secret, and the pep rally that afternoon was the most spirited we’d ever seen. The Eagles went on to crush the Bears, their motivation evidently heightened by the dramatic gesture.

From this experience, I learned that sometimes you must take bold steps to inspire others—but it’s equally important to know when to bring things back under control.

On October 16, 2004, our officiating crew was assigned to oversee the football game between Notre Dame and Navy at the Meadowlands in New Jersey. The weather was perfect, creating an ideal fall football atmosphere. Before kickoff, the Midshipmen marched in formation and ceremoniously presented the game ball to Referee Steve Pamon, an event that was both moving and thrilling for everyone involved.
The first half of the game was highly competitive, with both teams performing well, and the score was tied at halftime. After the intermission, the teams resumed play and continued to battle, with each side scoring during the third quarter. When the quarter ended, it was time to switch ends of the field. As the officials and coaches shifted positions, Referee Pamon unexpectedly ran off the field and straight into the locker room adjacent to that end zone. This sudden departure left the remaining officials and coaches confused about his departure.

After about two minutes, Pamon returned to his position on the field, and the game resumed. Later, we learned that he had forgotten to bring his yellow penalty flag out after halftime and had used the TV timeout between quarters to retrieve it. The game ultimately concluded with Notre Dame defeating Navy, 27 to 9.

This experience illustrated that sometimes, when you are headed in the right direction, you just keep going—no matter what unexpected twists may occur.

My dad, Hank Sr., is still going strong at 98. As the oldest child, I was always expected to lend a hand whenever my dad tackled repairs around the house, managed the yard work, or worked on our cars. One spring during my freshman year of high school, Dad decided it was time to remove the muffler from our 1968 Pontiac Safari Station wagon, and I was his chosen assistant.

We spent quite some time wrestling with the stubborn muffler, but it refused to budge. Growing frustrated, Dad instructed me to fetch a short 2x4 and the sledgehammer from the garage. He positioned himself under the car, holding the 2x4 against the muffler, and directed me to tap it with the sledgehammer to help loosen it.

I gave the muffler a few tentative taps, but my efforts didn’t seem to impress Dad. His irritation grew, and he barked, “Dammit, Henry, hit it like you mean it!” Eager to please, I wound up and swung the hammer hard. In that moment, disaster struck: the hammer glanced off the 2x4 and hit my dad squarely on the head. The sound was eerily similar to dropping a coconut onto the ground, and Dad collapsed, motionless.

Time seemed to stand still as I stared at him, uncertain of what to do next—should I cry, laugh, run away, or call for help? After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only thirty seconds, Dad crawled out from under the car. Without a word, I followed him into the house and into the kitchen. We sat across from each other at the table, enveloped in silence for several minutes. Finally, Dad looked straight at me and said, “I believe that tomorrow we will take the car to Midas.”

Sometimes you hurt the one you love.

Reflecting on the story in John 2, we see Jesus turning water into wine, filling empty glasses with a miraculous transformation. This moment suggests that Jesus embraced joy during his time on earth—enjoying meals with friends, sharing stories, and astonishing his disciples with his teachings. His life was not solely about solemnity; there was room for enjoyment and delight in the company of others.

We are reminded that it is good and right for us to embrace happiness as well. Psalm 126 beautifully declares, “Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.” This ancient wisdom encourages us to celebrate, to laugh, and to sing as part of our faith and our humanity.

I offer this prayer: Dear God, creator of joy, let me not forget to dance, sing, laugh, and truly appreciate this beautiful life. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Peace,
Henry Zaborniak, Senior Warden