Have I ever Told You You're my Hero?

A Major League Baseball legend died today.

Harmon Killebrew died from esophageal cancer at the age of 73. His legendary baseball exploits (573 homeruns) where achieved in a simpler time and place – the Bloomington Minnesota of my youth. Back in those days summers meant school vacations that seemed to go on endlessly with plenty of Twins baseball on the radio and an occasional trip to Metropolitan Stadium (The Met) to watch my heroes in person.

During Killebrew’s career we young fans were innocent and ignorant.

Collective Bargaining? As far as we knew that referred to those times we’d gather, each of us with a shoebox full of our baseball card collections, to swap, trade, and bargain for our favorite players’ cards. Now days we know that collective bargaining means billionaire owners fighting with millionaire players.

Salary Arbitration? For all we knew the players’ salaries were totally arbitrary. I kind of figured they just got paid a living wage and were happy to play a kids game that they were good at while having thousands of people cheer for them. Now we know that the salaries are astronomical and the egos are too.

We used to wake to get the morning paper to check out the box score and read the articles about the game, especially following those nights when we fell asleep listening to the game on the radio (DAMN those West Coast road trips!). Now you can scarcely read an article about Major League Baseball WITHOUT the business portion of baseball being mentioned. I liked it better in Harmon’s day when baseball articles were predominantly about BASEBALL.

A Minnesota Twin died today.

Harmon Killebrew started his career as a Washington Senator but became a Twin when the team’s owner, Calvin Griffith, moved the franchise to Minnesota in 1961. Calvin was largely believed to be one of the stingiest owners in Major League Baseball. It was said that Mr. Griffith threw around nickels and dimes as if they were manhole covers. As cheap as he was, he could also be generous.

On occasion, as a kid, my dad would take us to games at the Met. We didn’t get to as many games as we would have liked because tickets, while much more reasonably priced back then, were still kind of expensive on a minister’s salary. It sure was fun though on those occasions that we did go.

I believe it was the 1973 season when Calvin sent a clergy pass to EVERY minister in Minnesota, good for 2 free tickets to any game as long as tickets remained available – kind of a Student Rush for men of the cloth. We could show up, take our chance, and get whatever seats were available. Typically dad bragged about our seat location, on the way to the gate as, “Great seats! Right behind second base!” They usually were in that location, and they were great seats, (inside a Major League Park) but in the outfield grandstand.

I recall going with dad to see the Twins play the Yankees one time that year. I was amazed as the tickets we received that day specified that we were to enter the stadium through a gate near the infield. I continued to be amazed as the ushers pointed us towards our seats. We had BOX SEATS! As we continued to move forward we found out WE HAD BOX SEATS VERY CLOSE TO THE FIELD! As we approached another usher he personally escorted us to our FRONT ROW SEATS NEXT TO THE YANKEE DUGOUT! Never mind that the game got rained out after 7 pitches. I was able to sit in seats at the Met, so-o-o close to my heroes. Those are seats that would undoubtedly cost me today, at Target Field, about what I pay each month for my mortgage, if they were available. In Harmon's day they were freebies given to a minister and his son. Unbelievable!

See the people in the sunglasses? THOSE were our seats one day, and yes, that is Harmon at bat.

One of the heroes of my youth died today.

As a young fan I really liked Cesar Tovar and Rod Carew more than I liked Killebrew. Tovar and Carew were smaller players known more for their defense and hitting for average, respectively. Harmon was known for his monster homerun blasts. I couldn’t relate to Killebrew as a player, as I have NEVER hit a wiffleball, baseball, or softball, over ANY fence. I always respected him as a fan though, because regardless of the score of the game, if Harmon had a bat in his hand, at the plate, on deck, or in the hole, you knew that something special could happen shortly. With Harmon at the plate the stadium got both louder and quieter at the same time, if that is possible. The cheering and excitement level went up making things louder, but EVERY fan also blocked out any chatter or disruptions and concentrated on Harmon taking his cuts making it seem quieter as we watched him.

As a young player in the Bloomington Athletic Association (BAA) we often got to go to Knothole Games (Saturday day games – 5 kids free for every adult paid admission). Most memorable were the Knothole Games when the Twins would have pregame clinics. After batting practice a Twins coach would come out to right field and teach us all some of the basics. The highlight though was at the end of the clinic when Killebrew would come out and hit balls into the outfield grandstand while standing behind second base. It appeared as if Harmon had as much fun doing that as us kids had trying to catch those pop-ups. You’ve got to believe that for the kids that went home with one of those baseballs THOSE were the most memorable homeruns that Harmon ever hit.

Harmon was a humble hero and I believe he would want us to move on. I’ll take comfort in the fact that I am growing older and have formed new heroes in my adult life.

My lovely bride who raised two incredible kids is my biggest hero. Her patience and caring are endless. She raised a couple of kids who each got into their first choice colleges, and then out again in 4 years (actual graduation took me far longer than my kids). PLUS, she's put up with my crap for nearly 30 years and she still acts happy. (That's probably the biggest Who Knew mystery of all)

My daughter who, while playing high school hockey, was ALWAYS on the ice when the team needed either a goal scored or an opponent shutdown, is one of my heroes, because she is as dependable for doing the remarkable, in real life as she was on the rink.

My son, who never ceases to amaze us with his lively sense of humor (he’s actually the funniest guy I’ve ever known) and his compassion for others, through his work with students in need, is also one of my heroes.

I never actually met Harmon Killebrew in person, but I think he’d probably be impressed with the new adult heroes I admire now that the heroes of my youth are fading away.

Who knew?

There’s no business like show business!

The old joke goes like this;

A man sitting at the bar is complaining to the bartender about his job. The bartender asks the man what he does for a living. The now inebriated bar patron explains that he has worked for the circus for 10 years, cleaning up after the elephants, with a shovel and wheel barrow the only tools he uses to accomplish this task. The bartender agrees with the man saying, “That sounds like a pretty rough job. Why don’t you find another line of work?” To which the customer replies, “And what? Give up SHOW BUSINESS?”

I recently read the book, and then saw the movie, “Water for Elephants”. I recommend them both, but if you need to choose only one, read the book. I don’t recall the movie really addressing the issue of elephant waste as well as the book did, but that’s not the reason for my preference. The book just told the whole story more thoroughly than the movie. But I digress.

Me and my Lovely Bride? or a picture of

the stars of "Water for Elephants"? Who knows?

We’ve all had some pretty crappy jobs. Whether it is due to youth, inexperience, paying your dues, or learning the ropes, we’ve all been in the elephant cleanup guy’s shoes at some point in our lives. A positive attitude, however, can make tough jobs seem more palatable.

Probably the best job I ever had, as an equipment manager for the Gopher football team, had a lot of fun aspects to it, but there was a lot of crappy tasks as well. Doing laundry every day for 120 players and 20 staff members was tedious. The hours, in season, were ridiculous. And, some of the coaches’ egos were insufferable. But, working a unique job, and spending time with bright, talented, hard-working, college athletes and support staff, far outweighed the bad parts of the job.

The job I have right now at the University of Minnesota can at times be tedious but all in all it is quite satisfying. I like the people I work with, my superiors are good people, and being on campus, with a great benefit package is nice. In my position I do invoicing and financial reporting for some of the research grants that various professors at the U of M have been awarded.

Some of the research is fascinating. I don’t often hear the particulars, but some of the work I DO know about is truly fascinating. A recent article in the Minnesota Daily (the school newspaper – somewhat a misnomer as it is now only published 4 times a week – again I digress) revealed the fact that doctors at the medical school are doing ground-breaking work on Deep Brain Stimulation (the procedure my dad just had) for Parkinson’s patients (dad has a different malady). Without the work done by doctors and researchers like those at the U of M and the Mayo Clinic, phrenology (the study of the shape and size of ones cranium as indicators of character and mental illness) might still be the state of the art in brain science. Thank God we’ve progressed, through research, as far as we have.

Another team of researchers has been working with stem cells hoping to harness the awesome regenerative capabilities they contain. Somehow they were able to “scrub” a rat’s heart, removing all of its cells, leaving only a fibrous shell of the heart. After injecting stem cells into that structure the heart re-formed to look like a normal rat heart, and miraculously, after that, IT BEGAN BEATING! In time, the researches envision a day where it may be possible for humans to store some of their own stem cells to be used to re-generate our own organs as needed later in life. Right now transplanted organs have limited availability, compatibility is an issue, and rejection is a major concern (See Najarian, Dr. John and ALG – another digression). Re-generating your own organs could be viable answers to all three of those issues. The possibilities are amazing!

Once, sometimes twice, a year I am able to hear these researchers’ presentations at different gatherings of us U of M support type workers. The researchers typically do a good job thanking us for doing our jobs so that they can do theirs, reminding us that we are ALL a team, pulling together for the greater good.

So should you ever hear me bitching or grousing about a bad day at work, or complaining about my job, and you ask me, “Why don’t you find a new line of work?” Don’t be surprised if I pause, think of the elephant clean up guy, and respond with the question, “And what? Give up groundbreaking research?”

Who knew?

How's that workin' out for ya?

A few different events occurred yesterday that gave me pause to think.

My lovely bride and I were racing along the freeway as we were late for a family wedding. How you can be late for a wedding – an event you’ve known about for 5 weeks since the invitation, with a map, were received – has always amazed me. I guess I need to bear in mind the words my favorite US President, JFK, uttered on November 22^nd, 1963 before a speech in a Fort Worth parking lot. Mrs. Kennedy had traveled with him to Texas, but was not present on the dais with him that day. Many in the crowd had come to see Jackie, so with apology President Kennedy explained that, “…organizing herself takes longer, but she looks better than we do when she does it.” My lovely bride is far more fetching than I so I best not quarrel that she takes a little more time to address her appearance than I do mine, but I digress.

As we weaved through traffic I may have made a lane change too close to another motorist. The long protracted honk from her horn seemed to confirm this. My flipping her the bird in reaction to her horn solved nothing as she flipped one back at me. Then the thrusting motions of mine only seemed to exasperate her, but they made me feel better; for a short while. A few minutes later, after a little reflection, and the question from my bride, “Did that make you feel better?” I felt like the immature jack-ass I tend to be at times.

As we moved on towards the church we were stuck in construction traffic that infuriated us as we were rapidly running out of time before the start of the wedding ceremony. What infuriated me more was the bumper sticker on one of the cars we were stuck behind. It had a picture of a pointing Uncle Sam, and said, “I Want You, To Speak English”. I too struggle at times to understand foreign tongues and differing dialects, but America is no longer the Melting Pot of our youth. A wise young person (thank you Laura) explained to me a while back that now the conventional wisdom is that we are a Tossed Salad, made up of many different ingredients, each maintaining their distinctive flavors to make a unique whole. Assimilation is a dying concept. Embracing diversity is the new clarion call. I struggle with this at times, but I am trying. Bumper stickers, t-shirts, and sound bites, delineating an Us versus Them attitude seems narrow-minded and confrontational. I did feel better about myself as we do not display a bumper sticker with an intolerant message like that one on our car.

Yesterday the Dalai Lama visited Minneapolis and expressed his desire that humanity re-dedicate themselves to dialogue as a means to developing a more peaceful world. Until now my only real memory of the Dalai Lama was when Bill Murray, as Carl Spackler, the assistant greenskeeper in the movie, CaddyShack, tells a tale to one of the young caddies. Evidently Carl once caddied for ‘the Lamba’ and no tip was offered at the end of the round. When Carl asked, “How about, you know, a little somethin’ for the effort?” The Dalai Lama reportedly said, “There’ll be no money; but on your deathbed you’ll receive total consciousness.” To which Carl added, “So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.” I hope, like Carl, to receive total consciousness on my deathbed, but it has not been bestowed on me yet, so I guess I’ll need to take what I can from ‘The Lamba’.

Dialogue as a means towards a more peaceful world? Hmm... Sounds far-fetched, but maybe…

An old Native American proverb requests, “Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.” What better way to stand in someone’s shoes than to participate in a dialogue. Not the closed minded grandstanding that seems to be so common these days, but honest, open, give and take. How about looking at the other person’s side, hearing them out and considering their views? Then, dispassionately explaining your thoughts and then going from there, embracing each other’s differences, and trying to reach agreement in a civil manner.

Perhaps if I can bear in mind the old adage I’ve often mentioned that we are endowed with two ears and one mouth so we should listen twice as much as we talk. Wouldn’t we all be well served if we listened more and said less? Two ears, one mouth. 2 + 1 = 3. Three is a very significant number in Christianity. (Father/Son/Holy Ghost) Problem is I’m not a real regular church-attending guy, so how will I be able to remember 2 ears / one mouth, shut up and listen, don’t be such a jack-ass, use dialogue for peace? I’ve tried to bear it in mind, but Dr. Phil would probably ask, “How’s that workin’ out for ya?” I’d have to answer, “Not so well.”

I need a mnemonic device. Something to jog my memory on those rare occasions when my lovely bride is not there to do so. I’ve always liked HOMES as a way to remember the Great Lakes (Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, & Superior). I’ve also always liked the slogan that my favorite Minnesota Viking, Joe Kapp, used to emphasize that football was a team sport played by individuals that together were greater than the sum of the team’s parts. Upon receiving the team MVP award after the 1969 season Kapp refused the award and said that the team had used the mnemonic, 40 for 60 (40 players giving their all for 60 minutes) as their guiding principle. Since they all bought into it, and contributed to it, Kapp felt there was no one most valuable Viking that year. He walked off of the stage leaving the MVP trophy behind. I’ll never be able to come up with anything that memorable.

What I can do though is look at my left wrist where I have 3 bracelets. I have worn them to remind me of the three most important people in my life; the lovely bride, my daughter, and my son. Now, in addition to reminding me of what is most dear to me I can also use them as a reminder to be a better, more patient, tolerant person. Personal jewelry for self-improvement, Who knew?