Insight: Repaying a simple gesture of kindness

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

On the day after Labor Day in September 1966, I walked through the doors of Carlton Webster Junior High School in Henrietta, New York and into an entirely different life.

Jim Quetschenbach and his wife Peggy attended
the Rush Henrietta High School Class of 1971
picnic on Sept. 26 in Henrietta, New York.  

I was in a new school, and it was a new experience for me attending a public school, after I had completed seven grades at a Catholic school in a neighboring town. But at my new school, I didn’t know anyone, didn’t know the teachers or have one friend. I was starting over at age 12 in eighth grade and wary about how I would fit in there.

In my Physical Education class, we started out the school year doing exercises in the gymnasium. I looked around and observed how lacking I was in athletic talent compared to my classmates. Many were showing the ability to stand out on the football field, and as wrestlers, and future baseball stars, but at less than 5 feet in height at that point and weighing all of 90 pounds, I just wasn’t in their league.

After one week of school, I had not made any friends, was very shy, and my lack of coordination made me the last student chosen for volleyball or softball teams during gym class. I was frequently bullied or harassed by larger and stronger students and it didn’t do wonders for my self-esteem.

One afternoon after gym class, I sat on a bench in the locker room and just felt totally dejected at my situation. But a classmate that I didn’t know walked over to me, put his hand on my shoulder and told me to cheer up and that things would be OK. His name was Jim Quetschenbach and his kind words made me feel like things might improve after all.

Jim Quetschenbach was everything I wasn’t, so his kind gesture that day took me by surprise. He was tall, good looking and excelled at many sports for Carlton Webster Junior High.

As the school year unfolded, he was right. I slowly made friends in my new surroundings and although I didn’t improve significantly as an athlete, I focused on academics and started to develop a talent for writing. One of my teachers asked if I could create a school newspaper and serve as its editor.

As we completed junior high and moved on to Rush Henrietta High School, Jim Quetschenbach was one of the most well-liked students in our class. As a sophomore, we elected Jim as vice president of our class, and he showcased his athletic abilities throughout his high school career as a member of the varsity football, basketball and baseball teams, including throwing a no-hitter once.

After graduating from high school in 1971, Jim became a registered nurse and went on to serve for 15 years in the U.S. Air Force as a flight nurse and captain, providing care for Air Force personnel and their families. He was following in his father's footsteps, as his dad had served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. Later, Jim also coached 15-year-old baseball players to the New York State championship and has worked in organ donation and transplantation for many years.

Several years ago, my wife and I were at a flea market in Scarborough, Maine. I was there looking for used record albums but stumbled across a vendor selling old magazines. He had stacks of 1950s Life and National Geographic magazines, along with other literature. Looking over his tables, I spotted a 1971 Section V New York State Basketball Championship Tournament Program laying there on one of the stacks. I opened it and saw a roster of my high school team from that year and recognized the name of Jim Quetschenbach in it.

For 50 cents, I took the program home and then made sure I took it with me last week as my wife and I drove over to Rochester, New York for a gathering of Rush Henrietta High School Class of 1971 alumni.

During a picnic on Friday afternoon, I sat down with Jim Quetschenbach and his wife, Peggy, who had traveled to Rochester for the event from their home in North Carolina. I asked Jim if his parents had gone to the basketball championship tournament games in 1971 and he said yes. I asked him if they had purchased a program and he said he didn’t know. I then asked him if they had given him a program from the games or if he had a program from that year, and he answered no.

I then presented Jim, a father of three and grandfather of six, with the program I had discovered at the flea market. Tears welled up in his eyes and he leaned over, gave me a big hug and thanked me for doing such a thing for him.

It may have been sheer luck that I found that program at the flea market that day, but I would like to think otherwise and believe that the universe placed it there for me to find and repay the act of kindness that Jim had shown to me almost 60 years ago. It’s true that every act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. <