Print edition: 
There’s that same twinkle in Bill Himebaugh’s eyes when he spots his wife of 57 years, Janet.
Still.
And forever.
That’s the kind of marriage the Himebaughs have. Even now, as Janet struggles with Alzheimer’s Disease while living in a group home in west Wichita, Bill’s loving glances are like those of a teenager with puppy love.
Bill, who coached South to three boys basketball championships and a 142-57 record from 1971-80, visits his wife every day. He usually stays for 2½ hours — the best 2½ hours of his day, he says — then returns home to an empty house, the same house he and Janet shared for more than 40 years before her disease worsened to the point of needing more care than Bill could provide.
On this Valentine’s Day, though, the Himebaughs’ love is as strong as ever.
“They’re still never really apart,’’ said Jerry Himebaugh, Bill and Janet’s son. “They’re still inseparable. But it’s been rough.’’
Especially for Bill, 80. He’s as gregarious and witty as ever, the life of every party. But there is always an empty seat at the party now and it’s not necessary to dig deep to find his pain.
When he’s with Janet, who is nearly 10 years into her battle with Alzheimer’s, Bill is content. He rarely takes his eyes off of her. If she’s having a bad day, so be it. If she’s having a good day, there are glimpses of the good old days.
They met in high school at North, where both graduated in 1949. They walked together during graduation at the old Wichita Forum, but both were involved in other relationships at the time.
One night, while Janet was attending Kansas State and Bill was going to Friends, they drove past one another at 29th and Arkansas in north Wichita. Bill honked to get Janet to pull over.
“I asked her if she wanted to go to the midnight show at the old Palace Theater, which was at Douglas and Broadway then,’’ Himebaugh said. “They were showing some horror movie, ‘Frankenstein Did This’ or ‘Werewolf Does That.’ ”
The movie didn’t matter. Getting Janet to agree to go to the movie was what it was all about. She did and their romance took off from there, although there were times, Himebaugh said, that his selfishness threatened to run it into the ditch.
He was a baseball player and golfer and he had two jobs, he said. He valued his free time and wasn’t always eager to spend it with Janet. But she wasn’t going to be somebody’s backup plan and Himebaugh eventually got his act together. They married in 1954 and also have a daughter, Karen.
“I was attracted to her because she was just such a nice person and still is,’’ Himebaugh said. “So down to earth. And she has put up with a lot of stuff from me.’’
Himebaugh has battled a kidney ailment for more than 50 years, one that has required multiple surgeries and that used to force him to make frequent trips to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. In fact, he just went through a procedure a few weeks back and continues to amaze doctors who once told him he would be lucky to live to be 40.
“Talk about something that would strain a marriage, that’s it,’’ Himebaugh said. “But after one of those surgeries, I was in intensive care for 11 days and almost didn’t get out. Janet was right there by my bed and she rented a little apartment across the street. She was raising two little kids and I was sick all the time.’’
After doctors got the upper hand on Himebaugh’s affliction, he and Janet held numerous parties at their home in north Wichita, often having 30 couples over for a party. He is a past potentate of the Midian Shrine Temple and knows just about everybody in town. And Janet was the perfect hostess. They were one of the city’s fun couples.
“We had Christmas parties, Thanksgiving parties, pool parties in the summer,’’ Himebaugh said. “And you just let Janet go ahead with whatever it was she was doing because all you were going to do was screw it up. She loved to entertain and she loved to keep scrapbooks on our years at South and everything we did with the Shrine.’’
Janet kept the only scorebook at a basketball game that mattered to Bill when he coached at South. She usually sat directly behind the Titans’ bench and her accounting of the game was the one Himebaugh checked when it came to team fouls and personal fouls.
Once, during a game at Carroll, the official scorer had a discrepancy with Janet’s book. Himebaugh got into a heated argument with the guy and eventually Janet’s version was proven correct.
“The only bad thing she ever did happened one night when she was already in bed and I got up there to get in bed, too,’’ Himebaugh said. “We’re getting ready to play Kapaun and we’re one game from having an undefeated City League season. I had just dozed off and she nudges me and says, ‘Are we going to win tomorrow?’ That’s the last time I slept that night. I asked her why she was asking me a question like that.’’
South did beat Kapaun the next night, but it took a last-second shot by Ricky Ross to do so, Himebaugh said.
Janet was a teacher, too, who helped Bill get his first teaching and coaching job while he split time between Mayberry and Marshall junior highs. He worked in several schools before landing the South job in 1971. His teams of the late-1970s, with Ross, Michael Sims and others, are considered among the best in City League history.
And wherever he went with that team, Janet was with him. After games, he would drive a group of players home in one vehicle and Janet would do the same for another group. She decorated their basement with South memorabilia, some of which still adorns the home.
But it’s not home the way it used to be.
Himebaugh first noticed a change in his wife about 10 years ago, he said, while they were on a trip to Texas. He had always given Janet the navigation duty and she had always been spotless with her mapping.
But on this trip, with a destination of San Antonio, Bill and Janet found themselves 100 miles north of El Paso. Once they did make it to San Antonio, Bill said, Janet got them lost on the River Walk.
Her decline was slow but noticeable. And it wasn’t long before she had devolved to a place all people afflicted with Alzheimer’s reach.
It’s those 2½ hours a day that keep Bill going, he said. But it’s always time that goes far too fast.
“I look forward to coming here every day,’’ Himebaugh said. “But I don’t want to leave. I’m in bad shape when I leave.’’
So bad, in fact, that the 10-minute drive home is always a blur. He never remembers that drive.
“You live with somebody for so long and they do all the stuff,’’ Himebaugh said. “Now I have to remember to do the washing and the drying and to balance the checkbook. I never wrote the checks and I can’t balance a checkbook.’’
Mostly, though, he misses Janet’s companionship. When he’s with her, even in her current state, he is at least reminded of all the great times they shared.
Himebaugh’s many friends have been supportive. They encourage him to get out of the house as much as he can, and he does. He has meals with them frequently. But it’s not like being with his wife, truly the love of his life.
