HELLO, FAMILY & FRIENDS!
As I begin these ramblings it is still April (I decided to add the “salutation” to these musing since in reality they are my way of staying in touch). It is still April and we have yet to depart for places North where some of those “family and friends” will be seen in person.
It was Easter morn; I rode towards the west looking at a full moon, bright as the sun lighting up the darkness. My errands finished I began the drive home and watching the rosy hues of dawn inch their way over the palm trees…I wondered, would I ever see such a sight again on an Easter morn? It was a morning to remember and to celebrate the Risen Christ. There would be sunrise services all over this planet about this time, daybreak. There was a bit of chill in the air, but the Lord had provided us, and them, with magnificent scenery.
We looked forward to celebrating this Easter with our friends, and fellow grandparents, the Hopkins. It was not to be. Following the service I became weary and laid down to rest. That is where I remained while they with June took an Easter stroll along St. Pete’s famous pier. The bug within me continued to come and go the entire week with a complete crash on Wednesday evening. I even consented to have a physician look me over. Friday I was diagnosed with “walking pneumonia” (I could understand if it was “talking pneumonia”, but I had done no walking since Wednesday!). I began a treatment of anti-biotic. It had the unexecutable instructions: “Take One tablet Three times a day!” I never understood why they don’t say: “Three times a day, take One tablet” but I suppose Pharmacists are not concerned with “instruction-clarity but with “content-precision”. By Sunday my temperature was back to normal. Our friends had departed (as of Saturday) for a few days at our favorite place in Fort Myers Beach.
Monday while resting and “surfing” the net…well, maybe not “surfing” but reading pages like the N.Y. Times, etc. I noted that today was “Patriot’s Day” in Massachusetts and that meant the “Boston Marathon” The l 02nd running of the same. It doesn’t seem like 26 years but that’s how long ago I ran my first Boston…1972. My memories of Boston are of the great number of runners: the thrill of being in the “historic” Boston, the oldest marathon in the world, the surprise of hearing the spectators call you by name as you ran by. As you arrived at “Heartbreak Hill”, about 22 miles, you could hear on the spectator’s portable radios, the winner being cheered home. The roar of the crowd as you came down to the finish line. I never did get any of the “Irish stew”, but I wasn’t alone, Bill King and others who had run it more than I never did either. It seems humorous now to talk about a “great number of runners”. In 1972 we had 1038 which was a “great number “for the then neophyte sport of Marathon running, but in 1996 there were 38,708 and in ’97 & ’98 even more. I later learned that people were able to cheer you on by name, because the name and numbers had been printed in the newspaper days before the run.
Now you can go on to the Boston Marathon on the net. It has its own Web Page. You can search for your favorite and see how he or she did. You can on race day follow them in the pictures as they run on the same Webpage.
I ran Boston again in 1973. I had hoped to do better with another years training under my belt but it was not to be. I developed an Achilles tear a month before the run. I thought I would not be able to run it. In fact, I entered the Penn Relays marathon schedule 8 days after Boston here in Philly as a hedge. However, I did run Boston with the aid of Novocain injected into the tendon. I was advised, and rightly so, that I could do no more harm and the Novocain would cut out the pain. I didn’t do as well as I wanted to do but there were no after effects, so I decided to run Penn Relays. It was a good choice since I won a bronze medal for 18th place – my first and only Penn Relay medal after three years of High School and two years of College trying to get one. The medal is encased in plastic and sits right here beside me 25 years later. I also had the help of Andy and Paul for support to walk after I finished since two marathons inside of 10 days is not recommended. They never let me forget that walk since my humor matched my fatigued i.e. bad.
I never went back to Boston after ’73. So many other marathons arose that it gave me a chance to visit some new places, like Ottawa, Can., Greensboro, Winston Salem, N.C; Cleveland & Canton, Ohio; New York, and the Marine Corps, which ran along the Potomac from Arlington to Alexandria then to the reflecting pool in the Nation’s capitol. Each provided unique memories and some day I may try to put them down.
It is now the middle of June. We have returned home. We agree with Edgar Guest’s adage: “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home”. We were gone from Wednesday, April 29th until Wednesday June 10th (six weeks). It would be foolish to try in a few pages to list the last six weeks adventures, so we will bore you with only a few highlights and save the details for another day.
We traveled some 3500 or more miles and visited six towns where our grandchildren and children resided. We began with a First Communion on May 1st in Philadelphia for Matthew Golden and ended (short of few days) with an 8th grade graduation party for Thomas McSorley. It also was Andy’ s 38th birthday party (at least for Andy and I).
In between, we saw:
(1) Matt (8), Kelly (11+), and Joseph (8+) Goldens play baseball, and Paul Berger (6+) play “T” ball
(2) Watched Meaghan McSorley (7+) try out her new keyboard and Matthew McSorley (11+) play every sound effect possible on Pop-pop’s keyboard
(3) Played school with Eric (3+) and his friend Brittany (6), who spends the day at his house (Pop-pop convinced them that “Recess” is really the best time of the day at school)
(4) Joined Kate (8+) and Meg Baker (6+) in watching videos of themselves from day one and had to do so in the absence of Colleen, she vehemently objected to such showing since she is not in them
(5) Saw Hanna McSorley (18 mo.) walking with help and almost make her first step and her twin cousins Alex and Aidan Yake (18 mo.) take their first dip in their new baby pool in the backyard
(6) Watched Karen McSorley (10) perform her gymnastics at a show to end their season
(7) Listen to Andrew Golden (5) sing the songs from “Grease” with body action, even while sitting in the back of the car
(8) Ate too much at some fancy restaurants on too many occasions to mention
(9) Rested for our trip back as the guests of Mary and John MacDonald (June’s sister and brother-in-law) where we felt like we were at home and almost Home
This was some of the good stuff the trip gave us… On the other side of the coin, we had:
(1) The packing and unpacking with all its drudgery; (2) The trip from the bathroom and back to get those things we forgot to bring with us the first time; (3) Sleeping in strange beds on different mattresses with occasional interruptions by pet dogs.
In fact at times we felt like a character out of Erma Bombeck’s comedy: “If Its Tuesday, This Must be Belgium”, only with us it was either New Milford, Oswego, Hilton, Harrisburg, Lancaster, West Chester, or Philly.
The trip’s difficulties have made us resolve not to try it in this manner again. It’s good times stay with us and make it a memorable journey. I will reminisce about these things, along with others, which we will report to you at a later time. I often think how much easier it would have been to reminisce about the past if l had kept a journal or diary. It didn’t happen, so it becomes one of those things” I cannot change” even with courage and wisdom. It would seemingly make my recalling more accurate, but from what I read about “memoir-writing” that’s not an essential. So I’ll struggle on relying on my “memory”.
Memory is stirred by present events, particularly the passing of a friend. When Bill King and I met he gave me a news clipping reporting the death of Browning Ross. I easily referred to him as a “friend” yet I never met with him socially, outside of post race affairs. He was the kind of man whom everyone he met easily considered himself a friend of Brownie. He was the George Washington of Road Running in America as Tom Osler, another Marathoner, notes in the article. He was the guy who brought Road Running Clubs to America. He worked at encouraging running as a coach and a publisher of the first running newspaper “Long Distance Log”. I’ve told stories in these pages before of his wit. One was how he reported an incident in the Log. The Log was a listing of races to come, results by name and place of those that had been held, and general news about running in the area. In the results he also listed those who failed to finish with “DNF”. It happened in a run around the river, a runner collapsed and died. So next to his name was the usual “DNF” but Brownie being whom he was added “RIP”. So now it is Brownie who at 74 collapsed after his regular three mile run and died. I prayerfully add may he rest in peace.
I am approaching the limit of pages where I like to leave these ramblings. I hope to add a personal missive to each of you.
Ron & Mary,
As I lay down to sleep last night, I had a very nagging fright. It came to me, though I checked your names, I had not really sent the same (i.e., these Jottings). So here I am, at 6 AM, trying to make amends. Thanks for the Father’s day call and the card with those great pictures, which arrived yesterday. We were able to let Rich and Shirley see those great smiling Buddhas and they agreed they are beautiful guys! Hope they and you are continuing to grow in wisdom, or at least in ready cash.
Love, Dad