Reunions-To Go Or Not To Go, That Is The Question

I missed my 40 year class reunion last year.  That is OK-I missed my 30 year reunion, my 20 year reunion, and my 10 year reunion too.  It is not that I had a bad high school experience. I suspect my high school years were pretty much like most people’s.  I even thought seriously of going to the 20 year and 30 year reunions, then just didn’t go.  Something in my subconscious held me back I guess.

 

It is the same way with family reunions.  My family has a big reunion every few years near Creston or Leigh, Nebraska.  The first reunion was held over 30 years ago, and I did go to that one.  And I can’t remember having a really bad time.  It was nice visiting Creston, it was nice seeing some relatives, and it was nice seeing farmsteads where my Dad grew up.  We also visited the local cemetery where many of my ancestors are buried.

 

Other than the first reunion I have made it to one more, the year Creston celebrated its centennial.  That was fun too, though I think my favorite part of that visit was buying a history of Creston that included references to some of my forebears.

 

I don’t know why I have not been to more reunions.  I am OK with most of my relatives.  I have even thought of doing an oral history of the Meyer/Settje families, and obviously a reunion would be a good place to start such a venture.  There are not many family ties to what once was.  All of my grandparent’s generation is gone-my Grandmother died 17 years ago.  Only a few of my Dad’s generation are left to regale us with stories of growing up on a depression area farm.  If I am going to do this, I better do it soon. 

 

Still, I have a terrible time making myself go to reunions.  There are a few reunions I wish I could make happen, but don’t really have the time to see that they do.  I would love to have a Washington Elementary School reunion, especially for those of us who attended the school in the late 50’s and early 60’s.  Washington School was on the wrong side of the tracks, but the teachers I had never just went through the motions.  They instilled in me a desire to learn that has done me well.  I believe there were many others just like me.  I would love to see childhood friends over 50 years later.

 

I would also enjoy a reunion of Fremont Volunteer Fire Department baseball team members.  It was not called Little League in Fremont.  There was a Peewee League for 8-10 year old boys, a Cookie League for 11-13 year olds, and a Midget League for 14-16 year olds.  I know my Dad coached VFD teams for 15 years, and there were quite a few championship teams in that era.  Again, this is part of my childhood I would love to reminisce of.

 

The other group I would enjoy seeing would be those who worked with me in night invoice at the George A Hormel Co. from 1968-72.  All of us attended Midland College, and all of us had the unique opportunity of working all night and going to school all day.  I wouldn’t trade that opportunity for anything, and I never want to do anything remotely like it again.  We did some extremely crazy things to keep awake in the wee hours of the morning.  These guys were a lot like the fraternity in Animal House, we just didn’t have the house. 

 

I don’t think I’ve solved my reunion dilemma, and I suspect part of this has to do with missing my Dad, who played a big part in most of the groups I discussed. Still happy memories that deliver a smile are good things.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Michael Jackson

TV newscasters talked about the images they took away from the Michael Jackson service yesterday.  To me, the most memorable was when his daughter spoke briefly.  It is almost impossible to imagine her pain and the courage it took for her to utter those few sentences.  I am 58 and it took every ounce of my inner strength to get through reading what I had to say about my 84 year old father a few weeks ago at his funeral. 

 

It seems like we, the public, have a way of devouring those who entertain us the most.  Musicians, authors, and athletes are often held to a standard we could never meet.  While fortune and fame, mansions and private jets, limos and an entourage seem glamorous, never being allowed an unguarded moment has to take toil.  Going to a grocery store is out of the question.  Same with a restaurant. Any movement outside a gated compound means doing battle with paparazzi.  Yes, like you, I would still rather be rich and live in a mansion.

 

I am not a psychologist, so everything I say about Jackson’s weirdness is mere speculation.  Did a lost childhood create havoc in his soul?  It seems likely.  Throw in an abusive father and the weirdness is a little more understandable.  Why a handsome young man was so tormented he sought plastic surgery after plastic surgery to “improve” himself is hard to understand.  He was perfection on stage, but in giving so much to so many he had little to take care of himself.  And made horrible choices in selecting those who would take care of him.

 

I hope that what people will remember about Jackson is the amazing talent, not the devils that possessed him.  I  hope the muddled mess of the Jackson estate can be cleared and used to provide his children with a nurturing environment-and that certainly would not include Debbie Rowe.  And may the man know peace he never knew in life.

Newsweek, Sarah Palin, Michael Jackson, Lance Armstrong, GM, and New Zealand Air

Who else brings you all the information you need in less than 500 words?

 

Newsweek Magazine published a list of “50 Books For Our Time.”  I am never without a book or two on my nightstand, actually my wife will tell you I have dozens of books stacked around my nightstand.  However, I have not read one of the books on the Newsweek list.  That doesn’t bother me as much as after reading brief blurbs of the books, I feel like I want to read about 30 of them.  Better see if I can find used copies somewhere.

 

All is quiet on the Sarah Palin front today, although the AP had an interesting article on her apparent disinterest in governing Alaska.   Michael Jackson’s mother lost control of his estate. 

I still haven’t heard who is paying for all the police overtime needed to secure the public memorial service. There is rioting in China, and Lance Armstrong is now 3^rd in the Tour de France. I am not sure why I think of Nathan’s Coney Island hot dog eating contest when I think of Armstrong. Robert McNamara died, and Congress returns from a 4^th of July break for a real fireworks display over health care reform.  A 21 year old woman prank called her grandmother 45 times in one day, threatening to kill her.  How did you spend your holiday?

 

GM will get another $20 billion dollars in government aid, none of which will go to those maimed or killed in defective autos produced by GM prior to its bankruptcy.  I took a Business Ethics course in college in 1970.  That was a long time ago, but my thinking is that this is unethical, and immoral. 

 

I hate to end this post taking about GM.  New Zealand Air seems a much more refreshing topic. It seems the airline has a new safety video that it hopes passengers will actually watch.  All of the featured employees wear nothing at all-they are body painted instead.  After watching the video on YouTube, I would suggest that if NZA really wants to get passengers attention, they should have the pro dancers from “Dancing With The Stars” do the safety video.  They show a lot more on network TV than this video did.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

When I Make A Mistake It Is Obvious-Just Not To Me.

I made an error on my Ford Escape post. Well, actually I made several errors, the biggest one being relying on too much on Microsoft Word’s grammar and spell check when I should have reread my post.

 

Anyway, the Obama family did own a hybrid Ford Escape.  Candidate Obama got some static over switching to the Escape from a gas guzzling Chrysler 300.  I do not know whether the Obama family still owns the Escape or not.  Why store a car that is not a classic for 4-8 years?  Actually, I don’t think ex-Presidents drive themselves around the city either, so why keep a car that may never be driven again?

 

Does a President of the United States carry credit cards?  Or cash? Or either? I bet not.

 

My reason for a second post today is that after I said driving the Ford Escape was a wonderful experience, I added “I wouldn’t certainly do it again.” Other than being nonsensical, it was also incorrect.  I would gladly test drive other vehicles in the future.

 

I hope I cleared that up.  And I hope you will read my first post from today.  I am pretty sure I did not say that Sarah Palin resigning as Governor of Alaska was a wise decision.

Will Sarah Palin Never Go Away? Plus Other Weirdness On The 4th.

Let me be the last to comment on the latest Sarah Palin weird.  I am no political guru, but it seemed to me that if she wanted to be considered a serious candidate for President in 2012, that she had to return to Alaska and show some leadership as Governor of the state.  Sorry, being Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, even being a female mayor, just doesn’t qualify you to even think of becoming the most powerful person in the world.

 

Now spin doctors may paint a far different picture, but I do not think resigning a leadership most in mid-term is a good thing for a serious candidate.  It may not be as bad as having an affair with an Argentine damsel, but it just doesn’t look right, or feel right.  If you can’t govern Alaska, how can you deal with Congress and the Middle East (I am giving Palin a free pass on Russia, since they are her neighbors).

 

Did Palin find that verbally jousting with Katie Couric was more sporting than shooting moose from a helicopter?  Did she discover that New York City is more glamorous than Juneau? Or maybe she is going to cash in on her fame while she is still famous.  She does have a mega-bucks book deal, and I would assume she can make more money giving speeches now as a one time VP candidate, than she might several years from now as the former governor of Alaska.

 

I really did mean let me be the last to comment on Sarah Palin.  I’m sure I won’t be though.  As a friend of mine said, “55% of the Republicans want her to be their candidate for President in 2012, and 100% of the Democrats want her to be the Republican candidate too.” According to her Facebook site-got this from Yahoo news, I am not one of her Facebook friends-Palin is seeking a higher calling.  Maybe that means she is going to be a talk show host like Rush Limbaugh.

 

Only in America-a hot dog eating contest.  And the winner downs 68 hot dogs in 10 minutes.  How?  I am a far too fast eater, and can put away a hot dog or two, but I couldn’t even down 10 in 10 minutes.  And that is without the bun. I had a nice grilled steak to celebrate Independence Day.

 

Despite a bummer of an economy, Americans can’t seem to give up their fireworks.  I could tell that just from my neighborhood, but Omaha stations interviewing fireworks retailers confirm that people still spend as much as always on things that go boom in the night.  I don’t consider myself unpatriotic, but I am not as fascinated by firecrackers as most people seem to be.  I will watch a big show occasionally, but my enjoyment of those shows is in inverse proportion to the number of mosquito bites I get while watching. I think inverse is right-the fewer bites, the more I enjoy the show.

 

1.6 million people wanted tickets to the Michael Jackson memorial service.  Without question the man was one of the most talented entertainers ever, and Thriller will always be one of my favorite albums.  His bizarre personal life may be difficult to understand, but to me it is certainly a case of paying a terrible price for celebrity.

 

I am trying to decide how I want to spend the last day of my three day weekend.  I have to make a visit to a cemetery-I have put that off for over a week.  And I need to get to the Wellness Center for a work out, now that I can start lifting weight again-light weights, but I can still lift.  After that, I am thinking my Sunday paper, a nice nap, and maybe watching a little golf on TV. 

 

Thanks for stopping by.

An Escape. A Four Wheel Escape.

Is this the same photo?

During my Dad’s ordeal hardly a day passed that I didn’t think I needed to escape, to go somewhere far away, somewhere hard to get to, but easy to stay at.  I am not a beach person, but I thought about a lighthouse (subconscious saying I needed to find a new way) bed and breakfast.  I pictured myself sitting on a porch watching the ocean, cup of coffee in my hand, and a book beside me ready to be ready.  Nice thoughts, but I simply could not leave my family.

 

But, I did have an escape, or rather an Escape.  A Ford Escape.  Somehow a California PR firm found this Midwest blogger and decided I would be a good person to test drive and review a 2009 Ford Escape.  Apparently they found my website thanks to Twitter and liked what I wrote.  Heck, I like it too most of the time. 

 

We talked about all this would entail-driving the car and talking about my experience, and I decided to do it.  Several weeks ago a 2009 Escape was dropped off where I worked, I drove it, and now I am reviewing this small Ford SUV.

 

If you think you have heard about a Ford Escape in the past, you probably have.  None other than our first family owned, or maybe still owns, a hybrid Ford Escape.  For being a smaller SUV, they are actually quite roomy.  Two adults and two children would be more than comfortable.  Actually, four adults would be comfortable too.

 

The Escape I drove was a 4WD with a 6 speed automatic transmission, and a six cylinder engine.  Yes, it had plenty of power on the highway.  For a SUV loaded with bells and whistles, the Escape actually got decent mileage.  EPA estimated 17 mpg in the city and 24 on the highway.  I got 23.5 mpg, with most of my driving being highway miles. The Escape had a 16.5 gallon fuel tank.

 

As I said, this vehicle was loaded with bells and whistles.  To start with, it had a Ford navigation system.  I did not program any destinations-I only drove it to the hospital in Omaha and to work, and I had been to the hospital 30 straight days and to the same job for 23 years, so I knew where I was going.  It was also equipped with satellite radio, power heated mirrors, and power heated front seats.  June in Nebraska is sufficiently warm that the heat for mirrors and seats was not needed.

 

I did not try out the “moon roof.”  I assume a moon roof is the same thing as a sun roof. I preferred to use the air conditioning instead of a breeze to cool off.   I did play with the lighting-cup holders and floor lamps were various colors and I am amused by the strangest things. 

 

The vehicle was well-equipped for safety.  Driver, passenger, and side air bags, anti-lock brakes, and a tire pressure monitor system were part of the safety package. Rear seats would fold flat, and cruise and audio controls were on the steering wheel.  Sorry for rambling, I am taking some of this information off the sticker.

 

Speaking of stickers, the MSRP is $32,560.  I have always been told that only idiots pay MSRP, so I don’t know exactly what a dealer would charge for this loaded Escape.  Diers Ford (of the famous Fremont, USA commercials) had a 2009 Escape in their weekly ad for $20,500.  I am sure it wasn’t similarly equipped, but I suspect most vehicles aren’t.

 

Ford has a very good warranty program too.  The Escape warranty was 3 YR/36,000 mile bumper/bumper; 5 YR/60,000 mile power train; 5 YR/60,000 mile roadside assistance.

 

So, how did I like the vehicle?  I loved it.  I wish I could afford one just like it.  A more moderately equipped Escape would interest me.  I think Ford is putting together quality vehicles and I hope Americans will give the company a look the next time they purchase a car.

 

I also want to thank Ben Gray, the man who delivered the Escape to me.  I was only supposed to test drive the vehicle for a week, but during that week my Father died.  Ben understood I had a lot on my mind and knew I didn’t need to think about when we could get together to return the car.  I ended up keeping the Escape until after my Dad’s funeral.  I thought this was a very nice gesture on Mr. Gray’s part, and I do remember little things like that when I make purchases.

 

I don’t know if I will get the opportunity to test drive any other vehicles in the future, but this was a wonderful experience, and I wouldn’t certainly do it again.

Henry “Hank” Meyer 1924-2009 Thank You Dad!

The past week has been a blur for me.  A week ago my Dad was transported from Creighton Medical Center in Omaha to A.J. Merrick in Fremont for hospice care.  He died Sunday night.

Monday we went to Ludvigsen Mortuary in Fremont to plan my Dad’s funeral.  Please go to www.ludvigsenmortuary.com to see Dad’s obituary.  It is quite a tribute.

Tuesday we visited with a minister from First Baptist Church, where my parents had been members for over 60 years.  Wednesday was visitation at the funeral home and actually was a very nice event.  Over 200 people signed the guest book.

I had never heard of this, but my brothers thought family members should be present the entire time of the visitation.  Two of us were present from 2:00-4:00, two others from 4:00-6:00 and everyone was present from 6:00-8:00 p.m. 

Many people talked about working with my Dad and how he was such a hard worker.  Others talked about his service with the church, or how he had been a board member of Fremont First Central Credit Union for over 50 years.  I don’t know that it eased our pain, but it was nice to know that he touched so many lives and would be missed.

Thursday was the funeral, and it was a tough day.  Family gathered in the church parlor about 30 minutes prior to the ceremony.  My daughter and I went to view Dad one last time before they closed the casket, and on the way back to the parlor, I totally lost it.  I went in another room and prayed for strength to get through the day.

The funeral involved two pastors-one who was retired but was close to my Dad, and the other who as an associate pastor of the church.  The retired minister did the more personal part of the funeral, while the current pastor did the religious ceremony.

Part of the funeral was using words beginning with H-A-N-K to describe my Dad.  Very nice.  Then the minister totally shocked everyone when he told us he wanted us to do a cheer for Dad.  He would call out a letter, and the congregation responded with the letter.  Gimme an H, Gimme an A, Gimme an N, Gimme a K.  What’s that spell-and everyone yelled Hank.  He finished with Go Big Red, and I knew my Dad loved it. I can tell you until yesterday I have not been to a funeral that involved cheerleading.

The other minister promised to keep his message short.  “Every time I was scheduled to do the sermon Hank would come up to me and ask if I was going to preach today?  I said yes, and he always said keep it short. So I will today too Hank.”

My Dad was a World War II combat veteran and was given military honors at the cemetery.  I’ve been to maybe a dozen such funerals, but each volley of shots still has me flinch, and the playing of ‘Taps’ always brings a lump to my throat, though this time it was also tears to my eyes.

There was a nice luncheon at the church and in the afternoon some relatives and friends went to my Mom’s house.  The day was a great celebration of my Dad, plenty of tears, but lots of laughs too.  He would have wanted the laughter.

Part of the funeral included comments by two of my brothers and me.  This was not easy, but somehow I got through it.  Below are my comments:

Thank you for coming to celebrate my Dad’s life.  My family greatly appreciates you being here.

I also want to thank the congregation of this church for how you have treated my Mom and Dad, not only during the six weeks of my Dad’s ordeal, but during the six decades they have been members of First Baptist Church.  Time after time you have proven this church is much more than brick and mortar.

While I come today to praise my Dad, I don’t think he would be very pleased with me unless I teased him just a little. If you knew my Dad well enough to attend his funeral, you also knew that on rare occasions he had an opinion he would share. OK, OK-my Dad had an opinion on any topic you might care to argue about, and he was not lacking in confidence that his opinion was the right one.  I think a lot of times he actually agreed with the person he was arguing with, but took the other side just to argue. His arguing was never mean spirited though.  He truly loved people.

For most of my 58 years Dad was a larger than life character to me. Yes, he was a big man, physically imposing.  He never seemed to just walk into a room, he took over the room.  He had a presence about him and when he was nearby you knew you were with a good man who cared about others.  When he had the audacity to grow old, and we thought frail, it upset me.  However, I watched this 84 year old man fight an unfair fight for 40 days and he showed strength and courage most people couldn’t imagine.

Many times in my life I have been asked if I was Hank Meyer’s son. He seemed to know everyone. I couldn’t deny it.  I look enough like him that people would know I was lying if I said no.  When I said yes I was Hank’s son, I always heard “I really like your Dad.  He is quite a character.” He WAS quite a character.

I have thought a lot this week about my Dad’s legacy. Certainly it is his sons and grandchildren, and I hope we will all strive harder to make it one he can be proud of. However, his legacy is much more than his family. He touched thousands of people in his lifetime and we are all better because Hank Meyer passed our way.

I was very distraught that Dad died on Father’s Day.  However, a friend of mine who is a freelance writer in Maryland sent me an email convincing me how wrong my thinking was.  It read:

It is so appropriate that Hank died on Father’s Day, because men like him are the best examples of what it is to be a good dad.  They aren’t flashy and the world seldom knows their names, but they are heroes.  They make no pretense about being perfect. They just go to work everyday, put bread on the table, and sacrifice for their families.  Hank was an honest man, a workman worthy of his hire, a friend to many, a good husband, father, and grandfather.  Thanks be to God.

Hank Meyer-Thanks be to God.

He Fought A Most Courageous Fight

After a courageous 40 day fight my Dad passed last night about 9:15 p.m.  Yes, he died on Father’s Day.  At first I was more than a little distraught over this, but several friends pointed out my faulty logic. Below is from an email sent to me by Salley Shannon, a freelance writer from Maryland, and a great friend:

 

“It is so appropriate that he died on Father’s Day, because the men like him are the best examples of what it is to be a good dad.   They aren’t flashy and the world seldom knows their names, but they are heroes.  They make no pretense about being perfect.  They just go to work every day, put bread on the table and sacrifice for their families.”

 

I have written so much about my Dad, but in just a few short sentences Salley summarizes him perfectly.

 

Yesterday we laughed, we cried, and remembered.  We prayed. My Dad had been such a vital man, always active; to see him as we had everyday since May 13^th was heart rending.  This was not how he would have wanted to live. 

 

Dad actually was healing well from his brain surgery.  Unfortunately the ICU is a great place to catch infections, and he caught more than his share.  He had several virulent pneumonia like infections, and also suffered from a bladder infection.  Over the past few weeks he suffered two strokes, and apparently one did damage to an area that manages his kidneys.  As strong a man as he was, there was just too much for him to fight.

 

After a very restless night last night, I came to work early.  We met at the funeral home at 10:00 a.m. to plan the next few days, and also went to the local greenhouse to order flowers.  Several brothers are helping my Mom, and everyone is keeping busy. 

 

We had planned to get a new furnace/air conditioner this year, but with all that has been happening we did not have time to get this taken care of.  Until the past week that wasn’t a big deal as temperatures in Nebraska were mild, and the a/c unit was working OK.  It is hot this week and naturally at the worst possible time the a/c unit decided to go south on us.  I keep telling myself we will be leading a normal life sometime soon, but I am not so sure.  Amazing.

 

Next up for me is writing a eulogy for my Dad.  My older brother and I are going to speak at the funeral, and though I have in mind what I want to say, I need to get it written out.  Or as the minister called it, “Plan B” would be to have him read what I wrote if I am unable to read it myself.

 

I will share that with you when I have a final copy.  Thanks again to all of you who have Twittered or emailed.  You have been a source of strength and comfort for my family.

No More Treatment

In the past 37 days I made the 1 ½ hour round trip to the Creighton Medical Center 37 times.  I won’t be going there today, and I won’t miss it. I don’t want to go there ever again.  My Dad is coming “home” to Fremont today, coming to Merrick Manor adjacent to the Fremont Area Medical Center.  He is coming home for hospice care-i.e. no treatment other than to keep him comfortable.  He won’t be receiving antibiotics, he won’t be receiving insulin, he won’t be receiving respiratory therapy, and no one will suction his lungs. 

 

No, we did not give up on my Dad.  On Wednesday he had a CT scan. Yesterday we learned that sometime in the past two weeks he had a stroke.  We also learned that his kidneys are failing, they are shutting down.  He fought like no one else and continues to fight, despite the lousy hand he was dealt. 

 

Cancer is one of the most frightening words I know, and Dad fought skin cancer for months and months.  When he thought he had it licked, a large tumor was discovered in his head.  His options were simple, have it removed or die a painful death.  The surgery would be risky, but any chance was better than the certainty of death without the operation.  So my 84 year old Father underwent 23 hours of surgery in a 36 hour span.  He spent the next 34 days in the ICU at Creighton Medical Center trying to heal from the trauma of brain surgery, trying to purge his body of anesthesia, and fighting lung and bladder infections that are common to ICU patients.  Only a fool wouldn’t have folded, dealt that kind of hand-well, a fool, or someone with a desperate will to live. My Dad did not fold.

 

My Dad fought and fought and fought.  For weeks my family tried to will all of our energy to him in his battle.  He kept playing the hand he was dealt, but the stroke card trumped all.  It doesn’t seem fair, it doesn’t seem right for someone to struggle so valiantly and be defeated.  It sucks.  But saying this, I feel guilty.  My Dad has lived a long life, a good life.  There are soldiers in Iraq or Afghanistan who lost their life and left behind a wife and a baby who will never know a father.  I knew my Dad and I am better for it.

 

Last night, late, I told my Dad thank you for all he taught me.  His eyes were open, and he was looking at me when I said it.  . I told him that without him and my wife Jane I don’t know where I would be today. Despite his stroke I will always believe he heard me and knew it was me who said it.  I mentioned on a blog post earlier this week that I had heard Neil Young’s “Old Man” on the way to the hospital.  I am not a Neil Young fan, have never really paid much attention to this song, and likely switched to another station when it came on in the past.  I listened all the way through this time.  The lyrics were a perfect fit for me now, hand and glove.  “Old man take a look at yourself, I’m a lot like you.” I hope so; I could have done much worse.

 

Despite his ordeal, my Dad’s vital signs remain strong.  I don’t know how long he will be with us-my Mom says “until God has room for him in heaven,’ Some times I question such comments; this time I know it is true.

 

I so appreciate all of you who have prayed for my Dad, who have extended good wishes, and who have allowed me to use my blog as therapy for my grief.  Right now I am a little angry at doctors and nurses and hospitals.  I am tired, sad, and emotionally used up.  But I have no doubt your kindness has helped me through this struggle.  Thank you.

 

 

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My Dad And Me And Baseball

I did the following for the blog Everyday Life.  Ashley Thompson does the blog, and it is about her life as a baseball wife.  Ashley is married to Australian Rich Thompson, a pitcher in the Los Angeles Angels system.  Rich has appeared in six games for the Angels this season.  You can find Ashley’s blog at:  ashthompson.blogspot.com

 

My Dad And Me And Baseball

 

My 84 year old father has been hospitalized at the Creighton Medical Center in Omaha since May 13^th.  Over a 15 day span in mid-May he had four surgeries totaling 35 hours, all related to a brain tumor.  No, most 84 year olds do not undergo such surgeries.  Then again, my dad is not most 84 year olds.

 

To call my dad’s surgery risky is almost to make light of it.  His only options were the surgery or a painful death, so he chose the risky surgery.  During much of the 34 days my dad spent in the ICU at Creighton Medical Center he was unresponsive to voice or touch.  He has been fighting chest and bladder infections common to ICU patients, and previous ailments make it very difficult to treat my dad.  One step forward and two steps backward is how his recovery has seemed, not the proverbial two steps forward, one step backward.

 

Still, twice when matters seemed most grim, he has opened his eyes and not only responded to commands, but would track movements and voices.  It is almost as if he was telling us “I am still here.  This has been a terrible ordeal and I have to heal on my own terms, but don’t give up on me because I am not giving up.”  Doctors and nurses have marveled at his will to live, his strength, and his fight.  If they had only known him as long as I have, they would not marvel at all.

 

My earliest childhood memories of my dad are all about baseball.  Back in the early ‘50’s town team baseball was still a source of pride for many communities.  Semi-pro baseball was played at a very high level.  Many town team players once had the potential for playing professionally-the late 40’s and early 50’s saw minor leagues at a peak-but for some their prime playing years were spent in Europe or on some Pacific island serving our country in World War II.  In the 50’s they were a step slower, but like the wily veterans they were, they used their experience to gain an edge.  There were some fantastic games, and my dad started taking me to the ball park when I was old enough to walk.  Maybe before.

 

Sometimes we would sit in the stands at Moller Field in Fremont, other times we would be one of the cars that lined left and right fields, or that sat just off South Main Street which ran behind the left field fence.  To me, Moller Field seemed like a big league ball park might have seemed to a city boy.  And the players who played there were my earliest heroes.  My dad seemed to know all the players, which made him very important in my eyes, and an occasional pat on the back from one of the players made me feel pretty special too.

 

Omaha is only 35 miles from Fremont, and most of my life they have had AAA baseball-Cardinals, Dodgers, and now the Royals top farm teams.  Today will mark the 36^th day out of the last 36 days that I have traveled to Omaha.  We used to go maybe 6 times a year to the big city.  Omaha seems much closer now.  Anyway, one of the trips was to Omaha’s Municipal Stadium to watch a ball game.  It looked a lot different in the late 50’s and early 60’s. The stadium is now known as Rosenblatt Stadium, and if you are a baseball fan, you have probably been watching the College World Series played there this week.

 

The best baseball memory I have of my dad is that he coached me when I played YMCA Pee Wee League baseball, or when I was 8-10 years old.  He also coached my two younger brothers.  The first year I played we were terrible.  I want to say we did win a game, but that might be a foggy memory at work as it was 50 years ago.  The second year we were better, winning more than we lost.  When I was 10 years old we won the championship.  In fact, my dad coached from 1959-1968, and anyone who played with him for three years won at least one championship.  We learned to play the game and we learned to love the game.  I don’t think you can ask for more from a coach.

 

My dad’s recovery is shaky.  We simply don’t know what will happen or when.  He sleeps much of the time, though I think he can still hear us.  I like to think he is dreaming of the good things that happened in his life.  If he is, I am sure that he is standing in the third base coaches box waving a youngster home for the go ahead run in a big game- right now all the games on big ones for my dad.

 

As my wife and I were driving to Omaha on Monday, Neil Young’s “Old Man” played on the radio.  “Old man take a look at yourself, I’m a lot like you were.”  I’m a lot like you were dad, and darned proud of it.