Introduction
Herm Edwards Jr. spent most of his youth and early adult life living on the Monterey, California Peninsula. He attended Highland Elementary, Martin Luther King Junior High School, Monterey High School and Monterey Peninsula College—all in that area.
Lia and Herm Edwards at home
His father, Herman Edwards Sr., now deceased, was a master sergeant stationed at Fort Ord, California, located on the Monterey Peninsula. His mother, Martha, still lives on the peninsula. The genesis of Herm’s values, beliefs and daily practices stem from these two.
Many of Herm Jr.’s life-learning experiences are the focus of this book. This is not so much of a biography, and yet each person who touched Herm’s life has contributed to his history. Of primary interest is in the vignette about “The Broom.”
Herm tells it this way:
When I was six or seven my job at our house was to sweep up the leaves. Late one November when the leaves had pretty much covered our backyard, I eagerly went about my job to sweep up the leaves. (Remember I said “sweep up” not “rake” since our thirty-by-thirty-feet backyard was cement not grass.)
Anyway, I thought I had done a good job and was proud of that day’s task, so I left the leaves all piled up in the center of our yard and rushed into the house to tell my dad. I said, “Dad, Dad, I’ve got all the leaves swept up in a pile. I want you to see!” My chest was puffed up with pride. My dad, master sergeant that he was and with no extra effort to mount any further military assertiveness, walked down the steps of our back porch and “paraded” about the yard.
The Edwards Backyard
“Herm,” he said. “Look, you left some leaves here in this corner.”
I stammered, “But-but-Dad-”
He kept on talking, “And this corner a few more leaves.”
I finally got a chance to speak and said, “But, Dad, there are just a couple-several was more like it-of leaves in those corners.” And then in my young but convincing voice said, “Nobody will notice those leaves way over in that corner.”
Dad never hesitated, and with stern but encouraging words said, “Herm, you gotta get the corners!” He continued with that strong and military commanding voice, “Son, he paused, don’t be afraid of the broom!”
Herm got the message without another word from Dad. The message was that in doing your job, do every detail (the corners) successfully. He learned that “the broom” is just a metaphor for diligence and correctness in achieving peak performance.
Every task he undertook thereafter, from household chores to organizing a pick-up team on the playground to his days as an athlete-everything he did and does to this day-he always thinks of “the broom” to show the way to doing his best.
Incidentally, while Herm always wanted to be an end (now called receivers, wide receiver or wide out) in football, he played “cornerback” throughout high school, college, and into the pros! His father’s words, “You gotta get the corners,” was more than just a metaphor; it became his “ticket” to being a professional athlete and head coach.
The Official’s Call
I first became aware of No. 46 Herm Edwards of the Philadelphia Eagles when I moved to the Monterey Peninsula in 1980. As you will read in chapter 8, Herm and Mike Chapman asked me to MC their golf tournaments that would raise money to build a new boys club on the Monterey Peninsula. I didn’t even play golf in those days but his “cause” was such a worthy one that I eagerly joined their “mission” with that event and those that followed. Herm and I became close friends and today we both serve on each other’s foundation boards. The purpose of this book is to honor Herm, his family and his community extolling the principles and philosophies that not only he teaches, but lives by. I believe the positive message of this book will help others.
