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Isms: Views on life in rural America

Isn’t it amazing how a game changes over the years?

During the late 1960s, Mom coached volleyball in Clay Center. I remember sitting on the stage in what later became known as the “old gym,” watching her toss the ball to the girls, running some kind of hitting drill. I can see a line of girls practicing their underhanded serves, some of the balls skimming over the top of the net and landing in the back corner of the court.

I vaguely remember a few games taking place against area schools. There was nothing fancy about those games. Nobody called a zone for the setter to send the ball to. It was...


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