Dale Says

On my birthday I am 63 years old. This year, I am in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on my birthday with my friend, Paul Meuse. We’re touring Civil War battlefields, following the three-day battle that took place here. Paul has studied Gettysburg, and he’s been here many times, so it’s like seeing it from an expert. It’s interesting, and very well-preserved, and I find it to be an amazing testament to man’s inability to resolve differences without killing each other. it’s also an interesting way to spend your birthday.

Paul is very ill. He has Parkinson’s, which was probably caused by exposure to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. It’s pretty advanced, so he needs a lot of help to get around, take his meds, and make decisions. Helping him, and others like him, has become part of my life.

The past year has been pretty good; not a lot of ups and not a lot of downs. I’m learning how to cope with this phase of my life, which is filled with freedom, friends, and finality. By now, I have established a pattern of writing, travelling, family, friends, and helping others, and it’s a wonderful way to spend this part of life. I am fortunate, and every day I appreciate Patty, my good friends and family, my health, that fact that we seem to have enough money put away, and the freedom to do whatever I want. I hope I am taking full advantage of that, because I am aware that it won’t last forever.

Time is going by very quickly, much faster than I would like. Weeks fly by, months seem like weeks, and a whole year seems like a month. I want this part of life to last longer, but instead it seems shorter, much shorter. Months are blurry, and they consist of a series of routines and maybe a trip or a houseguest.

The past year with Patty has been a good one. We are generally on the same page, and we are both enjoying our lifestyles, our friends, our house and neighborhood, and our adventures. She continues to push me in many aspects of life, and while I sometimes resent it, it makes for a fuller and richer life.

We continue to see our families often. Over the past year we have spent a lot of time with my mother, my sister and her family, my brother, John and his wife, Eva, and our extended families. The Fehringer family reunion last June in Oregon was a great chance to spend quality time with uncles, aunts, and cousins. Unfortunately, several relatives passed away over the past year, including Uncle George, and Uncle Jimmy, and I now have just four uncles and aunts left.

We see our close friends a lot, especially Ken and Vicki. We try to go put with them on Fridays, and it’s a highlight of each week for us. And we see our gang of friends for holidays, Drakesbad, and special occasions. Our group of close friends is still intact, but that’s not going to last much longer, so we try to take advantage of every get-together. Ruth’s Alzheimer is getting very bad, and I can no longer take her for walks. I miss seeing her.

My mother is holding her own, at age 87. She still lives at home, and she does pretty well at it. All of us wish she was more active socially, but that’s probably not going to happen. I call her each Wednesday and see her 3-4 times a year, and I feel like we have a good relationship.

After working on a book with Lee Tyree for a year, we finished it and gave it to a publisher last October. The day we drove to the printer I realized (for the first time) that I was not a partner on the project, as I had assumed, but only a hired helper, and from then on Lee did not acknowledge my efforts to the printer, our friends, or his friends and family. That hurt, and it took me a while to get over it, but I did and now, I’m glad I helped him, because it was a major goal for him.

There have been rewarding writing projects the past year. I continue to write articles about our travels, about people I’ve met, and about people who interest me, and I’m closing in on a book of stories about people who have inspired me. Two writing projects over the past year have been especially interesting: an article about Bob Damir taking William Saroyan’s ashes to Armenia, and an article about. Greg Wong, a chef who lost his eyesight as an adult.

We had two very different vacation trips over the past year. In June, we spent a week in Berlin, which was very interesting, and a week cycling on Poland and seeing the Auschwitz concentration camp. I enjoyed Poland and felt a kinship with the people there. In November we took a three-week trip to India. It wasn’t my choice, but it turned out to be a fascinating experience. The cycling was great, and it was a good tour, good people, and good sights – but I was ready to come home after three weeks. The crowds, traffic, and pollution were a lot. India is a fascinating country with lots of problems.

My health has been very good the past year. I work hard at stretching, strengthening, and aerobics, and I’ve been fortunate so far to avoid any major illnesses. Fingers crossed it will continue.

I have organized my life with a good mix of time for writing, home life, and volunteering, and it seems to suit me. Maybe that’s why time is going so fast, because I have filled each day with things I enjoy, and there seems to be just enough time. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for helping others. I go for a walk and lunch on Monday with Norman, and we’ve developed a very good relationship. Wednesdays were for Ruth, until I couldn’t take her anymore, now I see Greg Wong on Wednesday afternoon. Fridays are for Tel-hi, and I also help Ina and Toni those days. That’s been very rewarding, as I have found that I enjoy being around seniors.
Unfortunately, seniors die, and over the past year several have gone way, including Bea, Gloria, and Bob Damir. Bob’s death was especially hard, because I admired him so much and had developed a very good rapport with him. Fortunately, I finished the article about him in time and his wife was able to read it to him. She called me right after and said he loved it. That meant a lot.
Recently, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about wars. I suppose that came from touring the Civil War battlefields and hearing about the terrible carnage. Also, the U.S. is still involved in two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, there’s a horrible civil war going on in Syria, and Russia is getting very aggressive in the Ukraine. So the subject is very prevalent now. When I was a kid, I thought that by the time I was an adult the world would have figured out how to get along without wars. The United Nations was pretty new then, and I guess I thought the U.N. would be able to intervene when countries had problems, and find a way to resolve disputes peacefully.
I was wrong.
Mankind seems to continue to exert its need for power on each other forcefully, and the world seems to tolerate countries attacking and killing each other. And, unfortunately, there are too many people who try to resolve their differences by killing other people. No race, age group, or religion seems to be exempt from it, and hatred, jealousy, and revenge still run rampant in our society.
Over the past few months, Russia has threatening to take over the Ukraine. They already took over one state (Crimea), and they have military troops lined up on the eastern border of Ukraine. Their president (Putin) seems to be hungry with power and eager to exert it, and the rest of the world is pretty much helpless to stop him. Europe and the U.S. have agreed that what he has done is wrong, and they have threatened him with economic sanctions, but no one wants to engage in an all-out war with a madman with nuclear weapons. Meanwhile, the world is holding its breath to see what he will do next.
Two brothers set off bombs near the finish line at the Boston Marathon in 2013. The bombs killed three people, injured dozens, and set off a wave of terror that enveloped the U.S. for several days while police were looking for the bombers. And, when they were caught, they turned out to be Americans, bombing their own countrymen.

The U.S. political parties are far apart on most issues, and rather than working on compromises, they now refuse to negotiate. It seems that both parties would rather shut the government down than work together. And that’s what happened last fall, when the Federal government shutdown for several days. It was stupid, it was embarrassing, and it did no good for anyone.

It’s open: after 12 years of construction, and at a cost of $6.4 billion, the new eastern span of the Bay Bridge carried its first, eager travelers safely over the water last night, at around 10:15 p.m., just under seven hours ahead of schedule. Our opinion: it’s beautiful!

Pope Francis (born as Jorge Mario Bergoglio) was elected Pope of the Catholic Church last year. Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Bergoglio worked briefly as a chemical technician and nightclub bouncer before entering the seminary. He was ordained a Catholic priest in 1969, and from 1973 to 1979 was Argentina’s Provincial Superior of the Society of Jesus. He became the Archbishop of Buenos Aires in 1998, and was created a Cardinal in 2001 by Pope John Paul II.
Following the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI in February of 2013, a papal conclave elected Bergoglio as his successor in March. He chose Francis as his papal name in honour of Saint Francis of Assisi. Francis is the first Jesuit Pope, the first Pope from the Americas, the first Pope from the Southern Hemisphere and the first non-European Pope since Pope Gregory III in 741.

Nelson Mandela died December 5, 2013 at age 95. His was one of the best stories of our age. He was a freedom fighter, prisoner, moral compass and South Africa’s symbol of the struggle against racial oppression. He spent 27 years in prison, and then emerged to lead his country out of decades of apartheid. His message of reconciliation, not vengeance, inspired the world after he negotiated a peaceful end to segregation and urged forgiveness for the white government that imprisoned him.
“As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison,” Mandela said after he was freed in 1990.

Edward Joseph Snowden is an American computer professional, former employee of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and former contractor for the National Security Agency (NSA). He came to international attention after disclosing to several media outlets thousands of classified documents that he acquired while working for the two consulting firms His release of classified material has been described as the most significant leak in U.S. history. Snowden fled the U.S. after releasing some of the information the CIA obtained and the FBI tried to arrest him. He is currently living in Russia.

Sixteen states and Washington, D.C., have passed laws allowing marriage for same-sex couples. Several other states have passed constitutional amendments to prohibit them, and many of those amendments are now being challenged in court. It’s only a matter of time before the marriages are permitted everywhere. After all, who has the right to tell anyone who they can (or can’t) marry?

Asiana Airlines Flight 214 was a scheduled transpacific passenger flight from Incheon International Airport near Seoul, South Korea to San Francisco International Airport (SFO) in the United States. On the morning of Saturday, July 6, 2013, the Boeing 777-200ER aircraft operating the flight crashed on final approach into SFO. Of the 307 people aboard, two passengers died at the crash scene (one from being run over by an airport crash tender), and a third died in a hospital several days later. 181 others were injured, 12 of them critically. Among the injured were three flight attendants who were thrown onto the runway while still strapped in their seats when the tail section broke off after striking the seawall short of the runway. It was the first crash of a Boeing 777 that resulted in fatalities since its entry to service in 1995.

The 34th America’s Cup was held on San Francisco Bay between the defender Oracle Team USA, and the challenger Emirates Team New Zealand Oracle defended the America’s Cup by a score of 9 to 8, but they had to win the last eight races to come from behind. This America’s Cup race was the longest ever Cup by both number of days and races, and the first since the 25th America’s Cup to feature a winner-take-all final race.

I have long believed in the future of electric cars as key to resolving energy and pollution problems. Now, we have a company successfully producing electric cars in our backyard. Tesla Motors is an American company that designs, manufactures, and sells electric cars and electric vehicle powertrain components. Tesla Motors first gained widespread attention by producing the Tesla Roadster, the first fully electric sports car. The company’s second vehicle was the Model S, a fully electric luxury sedan. In the first quarter of 2013, Tesla posted profits for the first time in its ten year history, and now they are selling cars as fast as they can make them. The cars are sleek and beautiful, and we see them in our neighborhood all the time.

There are so many people in India that need help, and it’s impossible to help them all. But we wanted to make just a few of their lives a tiny bit better if we could. On our last day in India, we found an opportunity.

On some of our travels we have bought a small landscape painting from a street artist; an inexpensive reminder of the country. We wanted one from India, and we had let it go until our last day.

When we left our hotel that morning, a local tour guide was in front, waiting for a client. We asked him if he knew anywhere in Varanasi we buy an inexpensive painting of the city. We said his brother was an art student in town. By now, we were used to being sent to people’s cousins, or “brother-wives” and we weren’t expecting much. When he said his brother worked at a chai shop just down the street, we were even more cautious. But, what the heck, it was our last day, and there was nothing else we had to do, so we made our way down the street, past the pilgrims bathing in the Ganges River and the piles of firewood for the funeral pyres.

There were two brothers at the chai shop, which was simply a table set up in the street. As we sipped the pro-offered cups of chai tea, we visited with the brothers. One of them, the older of the two, knew more English, and he was the “slick” one. He was dressed Western style, and his long, curly hair, sunglasses, rings, and cell phone would have fit in Los Angeles. His younger brother, Naresh, was his polar opposite: quiet, less English, and more traditionally dressed. But the younger one was more interesting. He worked part-time at the chai shop, went to school full-time, and was studying to be an artist. He wants to design fabrics, like those used to make saries, and he whispered that his dream was to go to Paris.

We explained to Naresh that we wanted to see some of his paintings, which he had created for art class, and he agreed to get some from his locker at school and meet us back at the chai shop. When the appointed hour arrived, there was Naresh, with a small bag of his work.

He does mostly landscape pieces, in ink and water color. Many of them depict what he sees from the chai shop — scenes of the riverbanks and the buildings of Varanasi. His work is good for a first-year student, and he likes to paint in vibrant colors: yellows, oranges, and greens. He called it “modern” art (his favorite artist is Piccaso), which is a bit of an oxymoron for this ancient city. But we liked it. We picked out 2-3 and lined them up on the table. We were leaning toward one, and he said nothing until we asked his opinion. He pointed to another similar one, which he preferred because it had more color and more work in it. We went with his choice, and he proudly wrapped it in a bag.

We asked how much he wanted for our new painting. He took a deep breath and told us he would like 800 rupees (around $13). We agreed and handed over the money. Naresh beamed! We then quietly handed him another 1,000 rupees (about $16) and told him it was “for his dream.” He was really touched, and he took our hands and then wished us namaste. Off we went to our hotel and our lives.

We think about Naresh whenever we look at his painting of Varanasi. It’s certainly not a masterpiece, and we’re sure he will develop skill as he continues his studies. But it reminds us of our time in Varanasi and it reminds us of Naresh. We hope he becomes a famous artist and we hope he has a good life. But, more than anything, we hope he makes it to Paris.

Madan sits on the ground in front of his house cross-legged and barefoot and works on his hand-made loom. He runs a chai tea shop and sells rugs that he and his family make on a hilltop in the country north of the town of Udiapur, India. His isn’t a real shop, just a room filled with rugs and a table for the tea. Madan works 10-12 hours a day, every day, weaving rugs. He learned to make rugs from his father, who learned it from his father. He made his own loom from logs, stones, and iron and he uses instruments of wood and iron that were made by his grandfather. He creates his own designs for his rugs, and dyes his own yarn using natural ingredients such as marigold leaves, turmeric, and indigo.

The rug Madan is working on is about two-thirds finished, so he will work on it about week or two before it is completed and he can put it with the other rugs in the room next to his loom. If he is really lucky it will sell in a month or two.
Madan looks up as we enter and smiles broadly. He seems to be a happy man. He is dressed neatly in a blue dress shirt and dark pants, and his black hair and mustache are neatly trimmed. He has a vertical orange smear above his eyebrows, which indicates he has been to Hindu temple recently. His manner is quiet and hopeful. He demonstrates how he weaves the yarn through his loom and we are fascinated by how quickly and accurately his hands move the different colors of yarn and the parts of the loom. He picks up a tool and compresses the yarn he has just added to his rug and shows how that makes the weaving so tight it is water proof – the water he pours onto the rug pools and sits on the surface.
His four brothers are rug weavers, too, and he tells us in his broken English about his family and the tradition and pride his family has in making rugs. We look at a few of his rugs and fall in love with two of them. We ask their price and hold our breath; after all, he has worked a month on each of them. He does some quick calculations in his head and gives us a price of 9,100 rupees – about $150. We agree, pay him, and he packs our rugs neatly into a small bag.

Before we go, he takes a piece of his home-made yarn and ties a bracelet around each of our wrists. Then he shakes our hands, and we feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. He gives us a card with his name and address and asks us to send him a photo of his rugs in their new home. Then he clasps his hands, fingers pointing upward in a prayer position, bows, and wishes us namaste. We feel a warm and wonderful connection with him.

Madan is sitting there today on the ground outside his modest home, weaving a rug. He probably hasn’t thought about us again, because he has his own thoughts and his own life to live. But we have thought about him a lot. We love the rugs he made, and we still wear the bracelets he gave us. He is an artist who reached out to us and touched us, and he gave us two rugs that he spent two months of his life making. And our lives are better because we met him.

When I read that Pope Francis will canonize Pope John XXIII and Pope John Paul II as saints I couldn’t help but think of Don Novello’s skit on sainthood. As Father Guido Sarducci, Novello once lamented, “To be made a saint in-a the Catholic Church, you have to have-a four miracles. That’s-a the rule, you know. It’s-a always been that-a four miracles, and-a to prove it. Well, this-a Mother Seton-now they could only prove-a three miracles. But the Pope-he just waived the fourth one. He just waived it! And do you know why? It’s-a because she was American. It’s all-a politics. We got-a some Italian-a people, they got-a forty, fifty, sixty miracles to their name. They can’t-a get in just cause they say there’s already too many Italian saints, and this-a woman she comes along with-a three lousy miracles. I understand that-a two of them was-a card tricks.” Don had several terrific skits during his heyday as Father Guido Sarducci; including the five-minute university, art school, paying for your sins, and running for pope. He kept us laughing with his witty, self-deprecating sense of humor and his simplistic observations. He didn’t start out as a comedian. He was born in Ohio, the son of a physician, and he graduated from the University of Dayton and obtained a graduate degree from the Thunderbird School of Management. In the 1960’s, he worked as an advertising copywriter for Leo Burnett in Chicago. It appeared he was headed for a career in business. But his life took a turn in 1973, when he found a priest’s outfit for $7.50 at a thrift shop and created the Father Guido Sarducci character. He added a mustache, cigarette, tinted eyeglasses, and a thick Italian accent and took his act to a San Francisco nightclub, where it was well-received. He appeared on a San Francisco TV show, and comic David Steinberg liked his act and introduced him to Tommy and Dick Smothers, who hired Novello to appear as Father Sarducci on The Smothers Brothers Show. Lorne Michaels, producer of Saturday Night Live, heard about Novello and hired him as a writer, a position Don filled for three years. He also appeared on the show as Father Sarducci thirty-one times, the most of any recurring character. Some of his observations became classics: On The Last Supper: It was actually a brunch. The check shows that one guy only had a soft-boiled egg and tea, while everyone else stuffed themselves. But when the bill was paid, it was divided equally. The moral: “In groups, always order the most expensive thing.” On The “Missing” Commandments: There were actually more than ten, but Moses was old and grumpy, and after he broke the tablets he could only remember the negative ones. “Don’t do this. Don’t do that.” The truth is, most of them were more like advice. The Twelfth Commandment, for example, was “Whistle while you work.” On Being Part of The Pope’s U.S. Tour (1987): It was a real thrill. It was just terrific. But now I’m a little down. I have what my psychiatrist calls “post-papal depression.” Novello came to worldwide attention in 1981 when he visited the Vatican in his Father Sarducci costume, took photographs in a restricted area, and was arrested by the Swiss Guards for “impersonating a priest.” The charges were dropped, his reputation was secured, and he used that publicity to leverage stage appearances, where he sometimes appeared with a dummy dressed as a cardinal in a wheel chair. Novello would explain that he (Father Sareducci) was the assistant of the 106-year-old Cardinal Dario Fungi, who was overwhelmed by jetlag. Novello has been involved in show business for over 40 years, as a writer and actor. During the 1980s and 1990s he appeared on several television shows, including The Tonight Show, Letterman, Fridays, Married …With Children, Unhappily Ever After, Not Necessarily the News, and It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. He also released two Grammy-nominated comedy albums as Sarducci: Breakfast in Heaven, and Live at St. Douglas Convent. He was the voice of Vinny in the Disney animated film Atlantis: The Lost Empire, and he got to play a pope (Pope Pius XII) in the 2009 short film, All in the Bunker. I encountered Father Guido Sarducci in 1995 when he spoke at a fund raiser and mayoral debate in San Francisco. Willie Brown had been termed-out of the state legislature and was trying to unseat Frank Jordan, who was seeking re-election as San Francisco’s mayor. The debate organizers had asked Don Novello to give the invocation before the meal. He was delayed by traffic, and we were eating our salads when he bustled into the room, fully dressed in his priest outfit. He rushed to the podium and rapped the microphone to get our attention. “I’m-a sorry that I’m-a late,” he apologized. “But before I say the grace, the-a chef, he asked me to tell you to please don’t-a eat the salad. It’s-a poison.”

It was a heart-warming, emotional moment late in the last game of a mostly-disappointing season. The Giants, who had won the World Series the previous year, were battling the San Diego Padres for third place. The Giants were behind 6-2 with two outs and no one on base in the eighth inning. In an act of thoughtfulness, Manager Bruce Bochy brought Barry Zito in to get the final out of the inning against Zito’s friend and former Oakland A’s teammate, Mark Kotsay. This would be Barry Zito’s last game as a Giant. It would be Mark Kotsay’s last game as a Padre. Zito started his career with seven terrific years with the A’s, winning the 2002 American League Cy Young Award and making the All-Star team three times. He was the A’s most durable pitcher, and he didn’t miss a scheduled start during his time in Oakland. After seven years with the A’s, Zito signed a huge seven-year contract for $126 million with the San Francisco Giants. That put him under a magnifying glass when he arrived in San Francisco. He was applauded when he did well and criticized when he did poorly, often by the same people. Over the seven years with the Giants, Zito had a record of 63-80. Off the field, Zito was known for his idiosyncrasies and offbeat personality. Early in his career, he dyed his hair blue, and earned the nicknames “Planet Zito” and “Captain Quirk.” He plays guitar, surfs, practices yoga, and follows Zen, and he has done yoga poses in the outfield, and meditates before games. Zito is also a philanthropist. He founded the charity “Strikeouts for Troops,” which provides services to help injured US Troops and offers support to military families. Throughout his time in San Francisco, Zito remained positive and enthusiastic and he tried his best to help win games for the Giants. He never complained and was willing to fill any role the coaches wanted. His teammates loved him, and so did the media, who could always get a good interview from Barry. His excellent performance during the 2012 season was a highlight, when he finished 15-8 and won two big postseason games. This would also be the last game for Mark Kotasy, who is retiring after 17 major league seasons. Kotsay, who had been an All-American at Cal State Fullerton and played baseball for the U.S. Olympics team, had been picked by the Florida Marlins in the first round of the 1996 baseball draft. He became a starter for the Marlins in 1998 and established a reputation for a strong arm in the outfield. He was traded several times during his career, and wound up playing for seven major league teams. Some of his best years were with the Oakland A’s, including 2004, when he hit .314 and led American League center fielders with 11 assists. Overall, Kotsay appeared in 1,914 games, and collected 1,784 hits. Kotsay and Zito had been roommates in Oakland and they are friends. So it was appropriate that Zito be given one more chance to say good-bye to the Giants fans, and Kotsay would have one more chance to get a hit. It was friend facing friend in their final baseball appearances. Zito started Kotsay by slipping two breaking pitches past him for called strikes. Kotsay then fouled off a curveball. On the fourth pitch, Zito threw a fastball past a swinging Kotsay for strike three. The AT&T Park crowd went crazy, which continued while Zito made his way to the dugout. His teammates refused to let him go down the dugout steps until he came out and tipped his cap one more time. For his part, Kotsay didn’t mind the way his last at-bat turned out. Striking out against a friend was bearable. “I’m happy for Barry.” he said. “If I had to strike out in my final at-bat, I’m glad it was against a former teammate whom I respect and love. It’s a good way to go out.” Zito was happy, too. He sent a text to his friend. “I love you my brother,” he wrote to Kotsay. “I have so much respect for you. I love that it was us together out there. See you soon.”

Clara was pulling weeds outside in 90-degree heat when we called on her. She quickly gave it up, came inside, and entertained us. We had to talk a little louder than normal so she could pick up what we said, but she doesn’t wear hearing aids. She doesn’t use a cane or walker, either, and she doesn’t take any medicine. She was going to the doctor every six months for check-ups after she finished her chemo, but now her physician says her she only needs to come back if something goes wrong. Clara Joyner turned 100 on October 11. It’s not a big deal, according to her. She says she doesn’t feel 100 years old, and she certainly doesn’t look nor act like a centenarian. But she is. That puts her in pretty rare company. There are only 53,000 people her age in the U.S. and only 500 in her home state of Oklahoma. Born and raised in Mississippi, Clara grew up in a strict, but loving family. She and her sister were close, and they both took piano lessons. “We never did play the same song, though,” she says in a southern drawl, because her mother didn’t want to listen to the same songs over-and-over from both of them. She studied music, taught piano for years until her children were in school, and then went back to college, got a teaching certificate, and taught music. When we asked Clara if she would play for us, she popped right up from her chair, walked to the piano, sat down, and started playing a classical song. “What am I playing?” she asked. At first I thought she was testing us, but she wasn’t – she really didn’t know what the song was. “It was in my head,” she explained, so she played it – faultlessly. Most of her playing is from memory, and most of it is faultless. She can drift from song to song, sort of a memory medley. Clara can play just about any song, whether she’s ever played it before or not, if you hum or sing a little of the tune. She plinks out the melody with her right hand as you sing and then adds the left hand. Sure, she hits a few wrong notes, but then she “gets it” and she starts to play the song faultlessly. Generally, she plays from memory, but she also plays duets from sheet music with her daughter. She does some of her own gardening, although she has hired a gardener to help. Following a recent fall, she also added a part-time caretaker who helps her clean house and cook. “I don’t really need help,” Clara told us, “But I’m starting to get used to the idea, and now I kind of like having a clean house that I didn’t clean myself and eating meals I didn’t cook for myself.” Clara says she doesn’t feel old. “As long as I have my mind,” she says, tapping her temple “I feel like I did years ago.” She says she thought by this age she would have “one foot in the grave and the other foot would be slipping,” but that’s not how she feels. She lost her husband a couple of years ago, and she misses him terribly. A lot of people her age would have given up, but she carried on, finished chemo treatments and continued to be active. She still reads a lot, but not a book a week like she used to, because she says her eyes are starting to fail. She still goes to church on Sunday when she can get a ride, and she still plays musical handbells with a group on Fridays. “We play for lots of people; like schools, and hospitals … and for the old folks,” she adds with a wink. And Clara still pulls weeds in her garden. “But I can’t keep up with them,” she says. “I need to get out there more often.”

July 17, 1941 was a pleasant day in Cleveland, with a game-time temperature of 76 degrees – a perfect day for baseball. The Cleveland Indians were hosting the New York Yankees, and the stadium was packed. Jolting Joe DiMaggio, the Yankees record-setting slugger was playing, and he was on a roll, having hit safely in 56 straight games – a record that had never previously been achieved (and has never since been eclipsed).

Joe’s “streak” as it had become known, started on May 15, and Joe had hit safely at least once in every game since. During those games, he had recorded 91 hits and batted .408. Even more important to Joe: When the streak began the Yankees were 14-15 and in fourth place; when it ended they were 56-27 and in first place.

Each of DiMaggio’s at-bats that night was an event, and the fans cheered and hooted every time he came to the plate. Many of them were unsure whether they wanted to see him get a hit (and keep the streak going) or make an out. Either way, they were witnessing history.

Joe came to bat in the first inning against the Indian’s pitcher, Al Smith. He let two balls go by and then hit the third pitch – a ground ball into the infield that really should have been a hit. But the Indian’s third baseman, Ken Keltner, made a great play, back-handed it, and threw to first, where the ball barely beat DiMaggio to the bag.

In the fourth inning, Joe again came to bat, and this time he built the count to 3-2 and drew a walk. He was safely on base, but he still didn’t have a hit.

When the seventh inning came around, the fans and players were tense. In his third at-bat of the day, DiMaggio hit the first pitch to third base, where Keltner made another excellent play, grabbed the ball, and threw DiMaggio out.

But Joe had one more chance when he came to bat again in the eighth inning. This time he faced Jim Bagby, Jr., son of the man who had pitched Cleveland to a pennant in 1920. DiMaggio hit the fourth pitch – a feeble ground ball to the shortstop – who grabbed it, threw it to the second baseman, who relayed it to first for a double play. Joe was out and his streak had ended.

After crossing first base, Joe turned left and continued running toward center field to play defense. He didn’t kick the earth or shake his head or pound his glove or show any visible signs of frustration. He just got on with his job.

The crowd was stunned. The Yankees won the ball game 4 to 3. Jolting Joe’s streak ended at 56 games.

DiMaggio wrestled with two emotions that night: relief and sadness. He was typically low-key with the media. “The streak doesn’t mean a thing,” he told reporters. “That seven-game lead we took over the Indians means more. But that Keltner certainly robbed me of at least one hit. That boy can field them. I do feel relieved, however, now that it’s all over. I admit I’ve been under a strain after the records were broken. But that’s gone now. I’ll be out there now still trying to get my base hits to win games. That’s all that has counted anyway.”

That night DiMaggio waited for the crowd outside the ballpark to thin, and then he left with his teammate and friend, Phil Rizzuto. They walked together up the hill toward their hotel. Joe went into a little bar and grill, alone, to have dinner. The rest of his life was still ahead of him.

Joe DiMaggio’s seemingly impossible 56-game hit streak had come to an end. History was capped in Cleveland Stadium on that pleasant day in July of 1941.

Ed Lacy was born May 18, 1899 in O’Connor, Nebraska. He went to local schools, then stayed at home after school and helped his father run the family farm.

Wilma McCoy, the oldest of 18 children, was born in 1906 and raised on a farm near Harvard, Nebraska. She obtained a teaching certificate and taught school in Spalding. It was there she met and dated her first husband, Joe McCoy. After they were married, Joe and Wilma lived in Greeley, Nebraska. They had five children (Larry, Don, Robert, Helen, and JoAnn). Joe died of a stroke in 1949 at age 49 while he was on a cattle buying trip to Denver. At the time of Joe’s death, their children ranged in age from 12 to 2, and their youngest child, JoAnn, was born one day after Joe died.

Wilma’s son, Don, remembers that his father’s body was shipped home from Denver and placed in the bedroom with Wilma, who was in bed after having given birth to JoAnn. Wilma held JoAnn in one arm and reached out the other to hold the hand of her deceased husband. Don remembers her saying, “God has taken one away and given another.” That left quite an impression on him as a 10-year-old boy.

Following Joe’s death, Wilma virtually raised the five children by herself. She and Joe had one quarter of farm land that had been come to Joe as part of his inheritance, and after her husband’s death, Wilma had a very difficult decision to make: sell the farmland so she could qualify for government aid, or keep the farm and try to get along without government aid. She decided to keep the farmland and somehow managed to get by.

Ed Lacy met Wilma McCoy in 1948 when he responded to an ad she placed in the newspaper to sell hay. Ed later told Wilma that he came by to look at the hay, but also as an excuse to check her out. Ed and Wilma dated for the next year, and then were married in the chapel at the school in Greeley in November, 1949. After the wedding, Ed moved into Wilma’s house and helped raise her five children, who ranged in age from 4 to 16.

Wilma’s three oldest children (Larry, Robert, and Don) respected Edward and appreciated the help he gave their mother. Because they were old enough to know their birth father, they thought of Edward as their stepfather, and they called him “Ed.” The two youngest children (Helen and JoAnn) never really knew their birth father, and they called Ed “Dad” and treated him as their father. Wilma’s daughter, Helen, remembers Ed as a wonderful step-father, and she says he was very good to Wilma and her children. She says he wasn’t real outgoing, but he was friendly and had a good laugh.

Ed and Wilma farmed and raised her children. They took vacations, often traveling to see Ed’s relatives.

Wilma died in her sleep in a nursing home in 1982. About that time, Ed suffered several stokes, which left him partially paralyzed. He moved into a nursing home in Greeley, Nebraska, where he spent the rest of his life. His step-daughter, Helen, remembers him being frustrated by not being able to care for himself.

Edward died in Greeley, Nebraska June 11, 1985 at age 86. Ed and Wilma are buried next to Ed’s parents in the cemetery in O’Connor.

If you want a car or truck, go see Cal.
If you want to save a buck, go see Cal.
Give a new car to your wife,
She will love you all your life.
Go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal.

Anyone who lived in California in the 1960’s, 1970’s, or 1980’s is familiar with that TV ad, which was sung to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It” by car dealer, Cal Worthington. The ad, and similar versions of it, saturated California TV airwaves for decades, and a generation grew up knowing their problems would be solved if they went to see Cal. He sold a lot of cars — more than a million of them, by his count — and at one time in the 1960s he ran an empire of 29 dealerships from San Diego to Anchorage.

Calvin Coolidge “Cal” Worthington had humble beginnings. He was born November 27, 1920 in Bly, Oklahoma, a small town that no longer exists, one of nine children in a dirt-poor family that moved around the southwest to find work. His early life was awful, as his family lived in a small house with no plumbing, little food, homemade clothes, and no shoes. Cal dropped out of school at age 13, worked for the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression, and enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1942. He became a pilot and found that he loved flying. During World War II, he flew B-17 Flying Fortresses on 29 bombing missions over Germany, including bombing raids over Berlin. He earned a Distinguished Flying Cross and the rank of captain. Cal tried to become a commercial pilot, but lack of a college degree disqualified him.

After leaving the military, Cal sold his car and used the money to buy a gas station in Corpus Christi, Texas. That venture didn’t work, but he sold used cars on the side and established his first car dealership. He moved to California, bought a Hudson dealership in Huntington Park, and began making radio, and later TV ads to sell his cars. He was the top-selling Dodge dealer in the U.S. through the 1960s, but his business was hit hard by the oil embargo of the 1970s. To supplement his income, Cal sold motorized pogo sticks and delivered traffic reports to radio stations from a helicopter that he piloted.

He rebounded in the 1980’s and sold hundreds of millions of dollars worth of cars, and acquired ranches, shopping centers, and an office building.

Cal’s ads always started with the line, “Hi, I’m Cal and this is my dog, Spot.” It was a parody of a competitive car dealer who always appeared in ads with a German Sheppard named Storm. But instead of a dog, Cal appeared with exotic animals; such as a whale, elephant, or tiger, or even an airplane on which Worthington would be appear standing atop the wings while airborne. Those ads turned Cal into a cult celebrity, and earned him appearances on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, and in TV programs and movies.

Cal’s personal life was less successful than his business life. He was married four times, and each marriage ended in divorce. He often said he didn’t do anything well … he just stuck with it.

He continued to fly most of his life, often piloting his own private planes to his car dealerships or to film TV commercials. “I never liked the car business,” Cal often said. “I just kind of got trapped in it after the war. I didn’t have the skills to do anything else. I just wanted to fly.”

Dear Editor,

Your columnist, Finbarr Slattery, was the first person we met during our holiday in July and meeting him set the tone for a wonderful experience.

We had just come out of our B+B in Killarney and were heading into town for a bite to eat when he stopped us and asked how our holiday was going. At his request, we followed him into his home, where he shared a copy of his upcoming article on the most famous people born in each of the 50 U.S. states. I’ve gotten a lot of use of that article here, as few people can guess who it is in their home states. As a return gesture, I would like to share the following list of “tips” for enjoying Ireland, which I have passed to friends who are visiting your wonderful country. I hope you get a chuckle or two from them.

1. Take lots of film for your camera and stop often to take pictures. The foxgloves, fushia, and honeysuckle are beautiful!

2. Order your pint of Guinness at least five minutes before your previous one is gone, as there is a deliberate and time-consuming method of pouring a proper pint.

3. Stay in local B+Bs, where the hosts are part of the local experience. Order the traditional Irish breakfast once (to see what it is all about), then order the fruit and yogurt breakfast the rest of the time (to prevent fried-food overload).

4. When your B+B host tells you “’tis a fine morning” that does not necessarily mean it will be sunny. Take your rain jacket with you when you leave for the day.

5. Adopt an Irish surname for the duration of your visit. Your American name will probably not sound Irish to the locals and they will not ask you about your Irish ancestors. O’Shea would be good; Kennedy would be ideal.

6. Go to at least one pub each night and try to find ones with Irish music. Order Guinness to drink. Do NOT order Irish coffee in the pubs unless you wish to incur the wrath of the bartender.

7. Develop an awareness of the fine line between Irish wit and Irish sarcasm. You will not always know from which side of that line the locals are coming. Develop a thick skin and fire back with your own brand of witicisms. The Irish seem to enjoy a good comeback.

8. Be prepared for discussions of how the British oppressed the Irish for hundreds of years. The Irish do not seem to have got over the way the British treated them, and they blame the British, not whisky, for holding them back.

9. Take twice as much money and half as many clothes as you think you will need.

10. Try to appreciate every moment of your time in this beautiful and wonderful place. It really is God’s country!