Teacher’s Favorite

At East High School in Salt Lake City, we were four friends: Gene, Floyd, Chris, and Max. We competed for grades and achievement in geometry, English, and chemistry. Geometry class was tense. We feared being called to solve a theorem in front of the class, yet we each secretly wished for the chance to excel by doing so. English meant sitting spell­bound as Glen Iverson read his favorite pieces or literature to us. We were grown men having stories read to us! Still, for each of us, Mr. Iverson’s class helped us gain a lifelong appreciation for things well written. For Gene it must have had even more im­pact. Chemistry was taught by a man who wore a shirt and tie every day yet was other­wise quite messy. Hence, the first five min­utes of his class were devoted to our analyses (usually led by Gene) of what this man had eaten for breakfast—much of which was quite evident on his clothes. Still, as was often the case, Gene was this teacher’s favorite, much to the chagrin of the others. Once when the other three had been absent on the same day, Max did the home­work for all. Imagine our faces when we found Gene’s grade was the lone “A” among three “Bs.”

After school, we would rush to see who could get their homework done first. We would then meet in the street in front of Chris’s home for football, two or three to a side.

Some Sunday mornings, we four would drive at first light to City Creek Canyon to test-fly Chris’s latest aeronautical design for the free-flight gliders he had built in his basement. Chris would send it up, and we three would chase it—often bringing back just pieces.

Sunday nights were most often devoted to study groups which grew from the LDS Institute classes we attended. With our dates, we would come to meet with intellec­tually stimulating people whose view of scripture, Mormonism, and theology we would eagerly debate and dissect. A young lawyer, Adam Mickey Duncan, frequently led these groups. I think we were probably more interested in exercising and exhibiting our intellectual skills than in truly searching for meaning. However, through all our “intellectualizing,” Gene consistently main­tained that more good could be accomplished by remaining within the Mormon cultural and spiritual community than outside of it.

One debate with Gene took a question like this: “What should you do in an emer­gency that required your automobile if it would not start?” Max said lift up the hood, look for the problem, and attempt to repair it. But Gene said to place your hands on the hood of the car and bless it! Gene’s attempt to teach the principles of unqualified faith was perhaps not as successful as he had hoped, for I have spent much of my profes­sional life looking under the hood to see what could be fixed. Gene remained a man of the Spirit and of faith.

After high school, we four left for the ex­tremes of the professional compass. Floyd went into law; Chris to Annapolis, Oxford, and Harvard, and then to the corporate world; Max to medical school and academic surgery; and Gene to a life of unparalleled contributions to the intellect and spirituality of thousands. Farewell, dear friend. We have been greatly blessed to have known you.

—Gary John “Max” Maxwell
from Sunstone 121 (January 2002): 18