Arts & Entertainment editor Oliver Levin reflects on his personal interactions with Mr. Griffin and his impact.

My first memory of Mr. Griffin came when I was only ten-years-old.

My sister had made the freshman basketball team, and Mr. Griffin was the coach. One day after a practice, I was in the gym picking up my sister when Mr. Griffin introduced himself to me.

“Hi,” he exclaimed with pure enthusiasm. Even though I was an awkward-looking fifth grader, Mr. Griffin seemed genuinely happy to meet me. A friendly conversation quickly led to Mr. Griffin and me shooting around together. I can remember thinking how cool it was that an adult like Mr. Griffin actually had an interest in a twerp like me.

On Sunday night, when I learned the news of Mr. Griffin’s death, I recalled this first experience with him. Then an unexpected feeling hit me: guilt. But why? It was cancer that had killed him, nothing I did. But the more I remembered our interactions, the more I understood my guilt.

Throughout my childhood I would often see Mr. Griffin around town. We saw each other at basketball games, high school events, even occasionally in a store. Every time we saw each other, the same enthusiastic and caring man greeted me with a warm smile and nice “hello.” He was always interested in every aspect of my life, and he seemed to look forward to my arrival at the high school.

Once I got to high school, I saw Mr. Griffin everywhere, as it is impossible not to run into people at WHS. Whenever he saw me, Mr. Griffin had the same simple “hello” that always improved my day. It was this simple act that often got a smile out of me, which was tough to do during some of those stressful days of high school.

So it was among these memories that I discovered why I had felt so guilty. I had never done for Mr. Griffin what he had done for me. I had never made him feel special like he had for me. I had never gone out of my way to say hello to him, or to check in on how he was doing. These thoughts sickened me and led to a restless Sunday night.

But it was on Monday morning, when I read Mr. Tutwiler’s email to Wayland High School families regarding Mr. Griffin’s death, that I understood guilt was the wrong emotion to be feeling.

Instead of dwelling on what I should have done, I must focus on what I can do. I can be more like Mr. Griffin. I can try to reach out to others like he did. I can say that simple “hello” to not just my friends, but all Wayland students, regardless of looks, attitude or personality. Just like Mr. Griffin did.

So even with the devastation of his death, Mr. Griffin still inspires me. He still challenges me to be the better man he saw in me and that I now see in myself. His death is sad, but his influence will live on. I’d like to thank Mr. Griffin for always seeing the best in me.

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