Whatever Happened to Mr. King?

When I was in Elementary School, there was a man at our school known as Mr. King. I never knew his first name, as we always called him Mr. King. He seemed to be a do-it-all man at our school, performing both Janitorial and Custodial work.

I recall that he was a rather tall, light-skinned man with a round bald head who drove a pickup. He was one of four men at our school. The other three included our Principal, Mr. Hammett; Seventh Grade Teacher, Mr. Felder; and 5th Grade Teacher, Mr. Choice.

But unlike the other three gentlemen, who wore shirts and ties, Mr. King wore work clothes. Sometimes in the afternoons, I would see him spreading a green substance on our cement hallway, then later sweeping it up with a push broom. The green substance always had a sweet smell to me, and I always enjoyed smelling it. I often wondered what it would taste like, even though I never tried it.

Sometimes he would spread this substance and allow us to push the brooms and clean the floors. We enjoyed doing that because it seemed fun, even though I doubt it was fun for him. There was something enjoyable about pushing that broom up and down the hallway and removing this substance with ease. We would also use this substance to clean our own classrooms.

But even though Mr. King wore work clothes, there also seemed to be something intelligent about him. He could hold his own with the others and seemed to garner as much respect from everyone as the teachers did. He appeared to be a man of substance and means.

Mr. King also performed maintenance on anything that needed repair in the school, including the bathrooms and water fountains. For many of us, the first indoor plumbing we ever experienced was at our little elementary school. Mr. King kept everything in good working order.

Some people have an impact on our lives that we don’t even remember, especially when we are young. But I will always remember Mr. King, even though I never knew his first name.

I am not even sure if he was from Summerton or Manning. I do recall that when I was in Middle School in Summerton, he apparently had a granddaughter in the same grade as me, although in a different class. She was lovely and became even more so when someone told me she liked me, even though we had never been introduced. But after that one year, she seemed to disappear as well. I am not sure where she moved to, but she was not in high school with us.

But I knew that, in addition to being attractive, she had to be a young girl of substance because she was the granddaughter of the man I knew as Mr. King.

But I am sure by writing this, some of my classmates will soon tell me whatever happened to Mr. King, and perhaps his granddaughter as well. If I am not mistaken, I think her name was Cheryl.

But the purpose of this piece was to pay tribute to another one of those wonderful men who impacted my life, even though they might not have known it at the time.

Mr. King, you were as critical a part of my education as many of my teachers were, and I want to pay tribute to you for that.

I suspect that you are no longer with us today, but in so many ways, you still are.