Though my dad died seven years ago this past Fall, and
though we never had conversations regarding my early years, still I am
fortunate (I guess) to know what he was thinking the day ‘I was born’. How is
that? Well the following gives some description of that time.
Earliest photo of just dad and I
In caring for my dad’s estate in Chapala, Mexico during that
fall of 2010, my brother Ike and I came across many keep sake items within his
house and on his computers. One such item found was a short story, though not
complete, that Richard R. had written. He called it, “There Is No Escape! – A True,
But Short Story”. In it he writes about the months following graduation from
High School, how he met Elizabeth Ann and Cissy. Though much could be said of
that story, what I’d like to mention here was his response upon the birth of
his son, yours truly.
Just the three of us...
Dad, in the Air Force, was in electronics tech school in Biloxi, Mississippi
just a year and four months out of high school when he writes, “On
October 8, 1958, a messenger arrived at the drill field where we trained to
inform me that my son had arrived.If
ever I had doubts about our marriage, which I had plenty, they all disappeared
when I saw my son, little Ricky.I
pledged to myself at that moment that I would make this marriage work and help
develop a happy family.That was a
significant period of maturing, accepting the responsibilities that I had
unsuccessfully attempted to escape.”
What else was he thinking beyond these words? I’ll never
know for this is where the story ended. Did he get to this part as he was
writing in 2004 and just couldn’t bring himself to complete the story?
Five of Us...Going to Church?
I’ve often wondered what those early years were like. Two
sisters would be added to the family in 61’ and 63’. What were our family
dynamics like in those days? How significant was that pledge in those early
days? How connected were our parents with one another and together with the
three of us? That is, how did we play together, eat, read or sing together?
These, I’ll never know.
My Favorite of mom with all 4 of us...
And though a baby brother would arrive in 65’ he would not
be part of the family as a whole. Reason…late in 1964 dad had determined that it
was the time of “his escape”.
…Why do I even write these words today? I guess that I was
thinking, as I often do, about my past. Thinking about what dad thought of me
when I was five, or fifteen or even fifty. Did he think of me often? If so,
what did he think? Whatever it was, why did he seldom communicate it?
Ray X, Kenneth E, Richard R and Richard A...
So on what would have been his seventy-ninth birthday, my
encouragement is…be involved in others lives. Let them know what you’re
thinking and how you feel about them. Don’t give them reason to question … “What
was he thinking”?
Broken...we are such a broken people. I speak of the world entirely. I wish that I could say otherwise of my own life, so such is not the case. And though I choose to not reflect often upon all the elements which have added to this brokenness, there are days when that is just not possible. Even then, in those days, I am able to reflect upon a Savior, Jesus, who came to the broken, with grace and without accusation, to call us to a place of peace. See John 4 and 8 for His response to the broken. We KNOW what He thought, and He said it with such gentleness. Might we go and do likewise.
It's dark at 6:30 in the evening as I write about the past three days...
What was conceived as an idea almost ten years ago is now in the revealing process. My eyes water as the power of His Spirit overwhelms my soul. My dear friend and hermano en cristo Tom Roth, has made multiple trips to Nicaragua over this time. Finally, like the rivers of Spring…I flow into a new and uncharted land.
Yesterday, my first ever full day in the Central American country of Nicaragua, had me PERFECTLY placed at Nicaragua Christian Academy, where I had the privilege to take part with 20 other presenters for their ‘Career Day'. What are the chances that I would be there exactly on that particular day? If you're not convinced that there is a God Who orchestrates, continue reading.
Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua
When I originally began planning to finally join Tomas, I decided that I would fly into Managua for two days, then fly into Puerto Cabezas instead of a direct flight into Waspam, where we have determined to put on a ‘baseball clinic’. The thought was to experience a little of PC, and then likewise experience the 85 mile, 5 hour Nicaraguan bus adventure to Waspam. So was this the right decision?
David says, “Delight in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart”. And the prophet Jeremiah says, “For I know the plans I have for you declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
So…was it the right decision? I did say something about a ‘baseball clinic’, right? I arrived at ‘Verbo', the Spanish word for ‘word, or The Word...His Word, around 1pm today, November 1st, 2017. I was quickly shown to a lovely cabin like room. Returning to the main kitchen/dining/living room I was offered a delicious fish, rice and beans meal. ‘Junior' (Randolph Gordon) joined me. The following four hours were beyond amazing!
Junior, a Miskito, Creole Nicaraguan, is ten years my junior (no pun intended). He has an infectious smile and a beautiful concept of life. Sixteen years ago his life was and still is radically changed as he does not only call Christ his Savior, but walks with Him with exacting precision. He has both played and coached baseball since he was a young boy, including playing on championship teams in Cuba and coaching young men’s teams that finished nationally in both third and first place. If you could only see the area where I'm at you too would be amazed at this possibility.
As we talked it was immediately evident that our coaching philosophies are so incredibly inline that you would assume that we are one and the same person. He speaks of coaching boys and young men to know that discipline and a pure journey with The Savior will always make them champions, regardless if they win or lose the ballgame.
Casa Bernabe
He then showed me about the ‘Verbo’ campus which includes a school, an orphanage, a church and many housing units. Started by a fellow Miskito, Creole Nicaraguan Earl Bowie Fox, 25 years ago, it is an amazing place of respite and service to God Almighty.
After this we talked a bit more over a cup of coffee. Then, pulling out some baseballs and gloves from the bag that has traveled with me these 4,500 miles, we went off to play catch. He said, “Watch, we will walk into the playing area and see how quickly boys will come”. We barely threw the ball twice before we had the attention of a couple teenage boys and several young boys and girls. Nearly 45 minutes later, my 59 year old right hand slightly swollen from the throwing of Ebner, we returned the gear, said hasta luego, and I was off to another lovely meal.
After the meal Earl and I would talk. With Him was a medical doctor and we likewise would discuss possible options with health care providers coming to areas here on the Caribbean side of Nicaragua that have the worst of the poor. The connections of today…there is NO WAY that I could have placed these pieces together!
I am thinking that this first meeting with Junior, with Earl, with this doctor will likely not be my last. How will The Father orchestrate tomorrow? How will He likewise orchestrate a reunion with Junior? I can not begin to imagine. All I know right now…I'm in the right place. And tomorrow…the next day…He will place in my way the right people and right circumstances.
As the evening thunderstorms begin...my day comes to a peaceful ending. Good night!
Breathing...all of us do it, but rarely do we even give it thought. Walking, now that takes action on our part. Breathing ... is as passive as it gets. Likely near a billion times for an average life.
Often as a firefighter, (usually during training exercises, but sometimes on actual scenes) I realized just how very valuable our every breath becomes. Knowing that you must control your breathing, for that which is usually free and without thought, becomes limited and thus each breath must be calculated. As well as an athlete in aerobic type of events, breathing plays an incredibly important role.
Then there are the two personal events in my life in which this very passive part of life became a very real concentrated effort. Once, a near drowning event as a college student at the beach, and a second after inhaling a poisonous substance. But never before have I experienced that which I've witnessed in some patients, that is fighting for air to the extent that you are even unable to speak a single word. A night in August of 2016 was one of those times.
Cece (not her real name) entered the ER in severe respiratory distress. She was conscious, appeared to be aware of my presence, but in
such distress was unable to speak. After several
minutes of providing advanced care it was determined that she had a
written order requesting only basic life support measures. Being redirected by
our physician, we attended to her wishes.
It was then that I had a
couple minutes to call a mutual friend who is also our hospital chaplain. Shortly after her arrival to the ER, with Cece still fighting for her every breath, the friend was singing to her the praises of Jesus. Over the next few minutes Cece's breathing became more relaxed, began to slow, and she became calm. Exhausted? Absolutely! Then again, coming to rest in the Father's arms? I do believe so.
Cece was then admitted, providing a more appropriate room for her soon arriving family to spend
some precious moments. Unknown then that only moments was all she had.
In the book of Genesis, chapter 2 verse 7 it says, "And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into
his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul."
An hour would pass, now home, showered and watching the 2016 summer
Olympics. Michael Phelps would swim his last Olympic race of his career, taking his 23rd gold medal. And I thought...here's an amazing athlete who has trained to such an extent that both his body and breath would allow him to repeatedly fight and capture such a feat. And only brief moments prior my friend was fighting with every single breath while running the last race of life itself. Then it donned on me...she too captured gold.
I would stand as our national anthem played...in honor of
the life that Cece had the privilege to live. Michael, his last Olympic race. Cece, her last breath, but then, just as quickly her first steps and new breath with Jesus, walking with Him on streets of gold.
‘Baseball ', more than any other sport, activity or
experience, has had a mighty affect on this soon to be fifty-nine year old. I'm
not one of those who lives, eats and drinks baseball, but it seems often to sit
in the shadow of my life. In fact yesterday found me in pursuit of several
local Goodwill and thrift stores searching for quality mitts to add to our
inventory of gear for a baseball clinic we hope to have during the first couple
weeks of November in Nicaragua.
And now, at five in the morning … as is the case a couple
times per month for this guy who spent thirty-two years in a fire house … I find
myself awake and thinking, mostly of the logistics of the upcoming clinic. And for some reason the name ‘Babe Dahlgren' comes
to mind. Perhaps for everyone (all three of you) reading this blog will ask,
“Babe who?” But for me, the name, the man gave me a powerful lesson and memory
for life. In fact, likely more times than not, if I'm telling a baseball story,
the Babe is included.
Then, a Dodger...and a MVP!
It was fifty years ago this past spring that my father gave
me one of the seven greatest treasures that I ever received from him. My parents
had divorced a couple years earlier, and I found myself struggling. My father,
who had little if any athletic ability, had a friend who knew this guy who
happened to be an old major league baseball player. In fact, he even played for
the mighty New York Yankees! Now I must
admit, my baseball career had begun only a couple months prior, so Sandy Koufax
was barely a name that I was familiar with, let alone a ‘Babe Dahlgren' or even
‘Babe Ruth’ for that matter.
I've come to know that his full name was Ellsworth Tenney
Dahlgren and received the nickname ‘Babe' from his stepfather. That rookie year
for this eight year old boy had me playing for the Lawndale Pirates, don't imagine
you ever heard of them? 😂Apparently, I showed some exceptional skill as a fielder, but my bat was
lacking. My father, through his professional connections, had come to know the
late great Casey Stengel who knew this former player who had become a scout and hitting
coach. Here steps in the ‘Babe’.
I don't recall the number of afternoons spent receiving hitting
lessons from Babe Dahlgren, what I do know, is that memory and those skills never
left this ‘old man ', now fifty years later.
1993 Oregon Men's Senior Baseball Champions
For those interested, you can see a slight glimpse of the
man in the movie ‘Pride of the Yankees’, which portrays the story of the great
Lou Gehrig. After playing 2,130 consecutive games, the ‘Iron Horse’ pulled
himself out of the game. His replacement at first base, Mr. Babe Dahlgren himself.
I give thanks to my father who had the insight to place me
in that position in the spring of 1967. I've had the fortune to often play, coach
and be a spectator of our great American pastime. And I suppose that it may
just be a part of my life until the very last of my days.
As a footnote, in reading about Babe Dahlgren this morning I
came across a blog that Babes grandson Matt writes, which also connected me to
his book, ‘Rumor In Town', the story about his grandfather. Within Matt's blog is
an article written in November of 2016 titled ‘The Passing Of A Great Man'. There he tells about his 1991 stay with the Steve
Roberts family while playing in a summer baseball league. A good read itself,
but what strikes me (no pun intended) is the fact that the Roberts are from Red
Oak, Iowa. This means nothing to most, but for me it is one more ‘Dahlgren'
connection. How's that, you say? My father is from Red Oak and I spent many a
summer in the little Iowan town myself. So Matt, perhaps one day we'll meet and
be able to reminisce about ‘The Babe', Red Oak and how our journeys have unknowingly
had a unique connected thread. www.rumorintown.com/
So fortunate to had made a ‘Winchendon’ stop during the sixth week of our eight week cross country motorcycle adventure. For it was then that we were able to visit Carol, our sister-in-law, though ALWAYS considered our ‘sister’. Diagnosed with cancer in April of 2016, Carol was a mere 85 pounds when we made our three day stop. Glad that we had the opportunity to talk, laugh a bit and enjoy a Saturday afternoon family gathering.
Notice Karen in the bottom right
Leaving Sunday morning the 11th of June, Carol decided that she needed to go to the emergency room. We assisted her to the car, Karen whispered to her ear that she'd see her in August and we began our return journey to the West coast.
Then the 18th of June happened, Father's Day. While slowing to stop at the Chamberlain, SD rest stop, where stands an incredible statute honoring Pocahontas, we received a call telling us that Carol had just died. The next twenty-four hours were filled with tons of emotion, I know not just us, but so many that were connected to Carol’s life.
Though I know that there had been many prayers for Carol and the family (especially her three adult daughters), prior to her death, it was those afterwards that seem to hold even greater purpose. That is the prayer to sustain those who remain, again especially her daughters.
It is here where two prayers stand out above the rest. Packed, ready to depart our traveling partners one more time (as we would begin an expedited trip home), a fellow camper from our ‘Camp Welikeit' campground in the Black Hills of South Dakota approached. We shared then, as we would several times during our return to Silverton, why we were shortening our adventure. It was then that Shayla asked if she could pray for us. A short, but beautiful and heartfelt prayer ensued.
A mere two days later we found ourselves in Yak Yak’s. No, that is not a miss-spelling! Always on the search for a ‘Mom and Pop’s diner, we found it in Yak Yak’s. I determined that it was either an oriental restaurant or someone just having fun. It was the later.
While enjoying a good meal a tour bus arrived out front with forty some folks from a Catholic church in St. Louis, Missouri on a Pacific Northwest tour which included lunch at Yak Yak's. Having two available seats we invited a couple from the group to join us. The conversation that followed had the four of us enjoying the journey and adventure of each. Ours of course included the reason for our shortened trip. As with Shayla in the Black Hills, these sixty something ladies said that they would offer prayers, along with their group and priest later that day in their mass.
So I sit here this morning, the day in which our eight week cross country, ‘Newport Triangle’ trip concludes in Newport, Oregon. At 1am this morning, Friday June 30th we returned from our interlude to celebrate the life of Carol Pace and to be surrounded by family.
Often I’ve enjoyed a prayer to someone I've met for the first time. To have that be reciprocated twice in a brief couple of days … well that is truly “priceless”.
View...during our expedited journey home
The moral of this blog … thank you Shayla and thank you St. Louis Catholics. Might each of us daily listen to the stories of the other and offer a spontaneous prayers of hope, of encouragement, of strength to sustain one another.
Six thousand miles into this motorcycle tour that we’ve dubbed the ‘Newport
Newport, RI oceanview
Triangle’ found us staying two nights in the second of ‘Newport’s’. The first, Newport, Florida was quite quaint as all that remains is a park which displayed the town name. Then through Newport, RI. Talk about adventure! I/we had no idea that this was such the historical, nautical and tourist location. More to follow on another blog.
So the adventure has continued with some mechanical challenges. Jim’s VTX required some welding, which fortunately they were able to find a young welder with great integrity who repaired not one, but three areas on the trike. At the same time I had a firefighter ‘Try before you Pry’ moment. That is, after two hours of attempting to locate the origin of a non-functioning right turn signal on our trailer, I discovered that the bike/trailer wire connection was ever so slightly DISconnected. Somebody give me a “Gibbs” (NCIS reference).
Tents in 'Cherry Hill'
So I noticed that I didn’t bring much positive adventure experiences to light in the first C2C blog, so here we go…
Friday June 9th concluded our fifth week of travel…with all the weather conditions that we’ve met, we have yet to have to unload/load the trailers or set up and take down the tents while it was raining. That’s simply amazing! For which we say, “Praise the Lord”! This includes our stay while camping on the ‘Outer Banks’, North Carolina. Saturday and Sunday nights had me (and MANY other campers) contacting management regarding a large group of inconsiderate, loud and obnoxious knucklehead’s. Anyway, the short of it, I went in to talk to the park manager and even before I could ask for refund of one nights stay ($85) she offered to put both couples into individual suites for the night. SWEET! And even more sweet because it poured during the night which means that we would have been taking down wet tents. Instead, it was dry when we packed our trailers after our very comfortable nights lodging. A miracle perhaps
Leaving NC, stops in both our nation's capital and NYC provided architectural and historical sites that are unparalleled. From the Lincoln memorial to the statute of Liberty, we were honored to visit the tributes of the men and women, our nation and those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.
With Patricia and Birane
It is now Sunday the 11th of June, our third and final day in Winchendon, Massachusetts. The ride to this, our ‘New England Home’, had us traveling up highway 140 through the center of rural Massachusetts. One of four favorite rides so far on this now six week journey.
The stay in Winchendon included a full, but enjoyable schedule. Visits with Carol, Kristy, the Romero clan, Tony plus Ray and Carla were surely our ‘Top Forty’ But also, Jim getting some final suspension adjustment, plus a window bag to boot through a friend of ‘little Tony, should make the trek home most refreshing. Then a ‘Family Gathering’ Saturday afternoon allowed us to mingle with many that we're seldom able to visit.
Well…now we begin our journey back west. A route that the itinerary has us venturing into Canada, back into Wisconsin, then toward Rushmore and Yellowstone before connecting Newport, Oregon and finally home. For now … one day and adventure at a time.
