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Tim Myers: Get well soon, Frank Ferry

Myers' Musings

Posted: December 18, 2010 6:30 p.m.
Updated: December 19, 2010 4:55 a.m.
 

Frank Ferry, Santa Clarita City Council member and principal of Bishop Alemany High School, currently resides at Providence Holy Cross Medical Center in Mission Hills battling a septic condition brought on by an outpatient procedure after Thanksgiving.

While most readers of this column know Ferry in his role of sometimes cross, but always passionate, council member, I will use this space to relate a story that I believe best illustrates the true personality of Ferry, and his impact on the youth of this community, and now the Alemany community.

The story occurs in October of a year between 1999 and 2003, since Valencia did not defeat the Hart Indians in football until that magical year.

An extremely reliable friend sits in the waiting room of the Henry Mayo emergency room awaiting word on the condition of a neighbor involved in a fairly serious traffic accident. (The friend recovered, by the way.) With the clock nearing 11 p.m., my friend views several increasingly hysterical young women filtering into the emergency room who then make cell phone calls, texting not common in these days and found themselves joined by several young men looking alternatively sheepish and disturbed.

From the excited conversations taking place in the various corners of the waiting room, my friend pieces together the following story:

Several Valencia Associated Student Body students, prior to the Hart-Valencia football game that year, decided to vandalize the Hart practice field by painting it with the Valencia logo.

While executing their soft vandalism, the perpetrators, mainly girls, believed they were confronted and chased by “gang members.” (In the eyes of a Valencia ASB member, a “gang member” means anyone with an extremely good tan.) In the confusion, the perpetrators scattered.

Several young girls came to the emergency room looking for “Christie,” a co-conspirator. Depending on the particular corner of the waiting room, the “gang members” either assaulted, abducted, raped or murdered Christie using either knives or firearms. The friends rallied at the local ER to find her. Not finding her at the ER, more phone calls brought more frantic teenagers who now in their collective hysteria had Christie across the border and on her way to Columbia to fuel the sexual desires of drug cartel leaders.

With increasing chaos in the waiting room and no seeming action taken, my friend began to wonder what he should do, when Ferry, then head of Valencia ASB, came crashing through the doors in all his glory.

What follows constitutes a paraphrase of the conversations that ensued, with Muffy, Buffy and Brittany playing the parts of distraught ASB members:

Muffy: “Mr. Ferry, Mr. Ferry!!!! We think the gang members at Hart killed Christie!”

Ferry: “I just talked to Christie, and she is at home with her parents.”

Buffy: “But we thought Christie got stabbed or shot by the gang members when we were running away from painting the field.”

Ferry: “I specifically told you not to do anything to the Hart campus!”

Brittany: “I know! I know! You were right, and now Christie is dead!!!”

Ferry: “Didn’t you hear me? Christie is at home with her parents. I just talked to her on the phone. She twisted her ankle while running away from the Hart field, but she is fine.”

Muffy: “But the gang members got her!”

At this point, my friend related that Ferry seemed to grow about six inches and expand to a larger presence.

Ferry: “This has to end. We will talk about what you did in the morning and start working on the apology to the Hart community. For now (pointing) Muffy!  Go home! Buffy! Go home!  Tommy!! (pointing to a sheepish and puzzled male youth) Take Brittany home! Everyone!!! Go home!!!!!”

My friend related then how the mob of frightened and hysterical teens suddenly turned sober and serious with the speed of a light switch. They then amazingly melted out the door of the ER, and he could hear doors slamming and cars starting.

Suddenly confronted with an empty waiting room, my friend checked his watch and noted that Ferry, now slipping through the door himself after apologies to the ER ward clerks, had accomplished this amazing feat in a mere five minutes!

Get well soon, Frank! We need your passion, your sense of the merry prankster and your ability with the youth of this world back. God bless!

Tim Myers is a Valencia resident. His column reflects his own views and not necessarily those of The Signal. “Myers’ Musings” appears Sundays in The Signal.

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