The Barefoot Professor: …Any Footprints? the Saga of an Ozark Hillbilly Lad Becoming a University Professor

Born in 1933, raised on a small farm in the Ozark hills near Branson, Missouri, I experienced the Great Depression to its fullest. I never forgot the importance of assisting those under stress; people I was capable of helping during their time of need. Walking barefoot as a young lad, my feet enjoyed the soft soil, green grass and tree leaves as well as endured hazards of briars, sharp rocks, snakes and poison ivy. These early barefoot experiences trained me to distinguish between good and bad. They also gave me endurance. Without realizing it, I was training for life’s challenges. My parents taught an early work ethic. At 15, I purchased a small herd of cattle, planning to become a farmer. Shortly after my 16th birthday, a serious farm accident changed everything! Instead of farming, I focused on veterinary medicine. I left home on my 17th birthday for college. My high school sweetheart followed a year later. Married early, we started our family during our college years. Being a barefoot professor describes a frame of mind. My professional activities left footprints at Iowa State University and the University of Illinois. Of course, as time passes, these footprints will fade, but, for at least a moment, I left some footprints… I was present for many vacations, holidays and birthday celebrations with my family; however, I also missed some of them. All the same, I believe I left positive footprints through six children, 15 grandchildren, six great grandkids and counting! Nothing like being barefooted!