It was forty-six years ago today.

Around 2:00 in the afternoon, i had returned from putting out the sports section of The Watertown Daily Times in upstate New York, and i mean UPSTATE New York, still one of my favorite places in the world over three-quarters of a century.

i had a sandwich for lunch and laid down for my usual afternoon nap. After all, i had gotten up around 4:00 and walked to work, getting to my desk before 5:30. It was my routine, i thought the nap was well deserved since on most previous evenings i had been at a sports event, mostly the Watertown Royals semi-pro baseball game.

My wife nudged me gently to wake me up.

“Jim, I broke water,” she announced in an offhand manner, “It’s time to go to the hospital.”

After her water broke, Kathie called the hospital to let them know she was on her way, arranged the apartment for me in her absence and for her return with our new infant. She packed what she would need at the hospital. She was orderly and calm.

The sports editor was catatonic. He threw on some clothes, grabbed her small suitcase, and ushered her down the stairs of the second floor apartment. He didn’t exactly break the land speed record getting to the hospital, but let’s just say he didn’t tarry in traffic.

He drove the blue 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass to the emergency dock. She said something to the effect about his being silly and directed him to park in a regular space about a block away. They walked to the check-in counter. She was checked in and put into a room. He got to stay there for roughly three hours. They kicked him out. It wasn’t like it is today. Perhaps it was predictive of what would happen later.

He had supper out with his good friend and high school teacher Earl Weidemann and returned to the hospital. It was around 6:00. They parked him in the expectant father’s waiting room, a rather dark hole, and he waited there, worried about his wife and excited about what was imminent.

Just after 9:30, his wife gave birth to his daughter. She was beautiful, sporting a goodly amount of black hair. He was in heaven but not allowed to stay long. Her mother looked absolutely gorgeous and oh, oh so happy…perhaps because the worse part was over.

In just under two months, he would leave. The Navy looked like a good move for him to support his wife and new child, and he had chosen to give up sports writing and return to the sea. Unfortunately, it would require him to be away for long periods of time, while this new overwhelmingly force in his life would remain with her mother. His choice for them.

But oh boy, was she loved. She and her mother stayed with her mother’s parents, Colonel Lynch and Nannie Bettie in Paris, Texas but spent significant time in Tennessee. Both families adored her. Still do. One of his favorite photos of her was while he was in the Mediterranean. Her uncle, Uncle Snooks, who loved all children, seemed to have a special place for Blythe. Even though they all loved her, it was real close to the most lonely four months of his life.

When he returned, they began the Navy life in Newport, Rhode Island. Then, they moved across country to Long Beach. Then south to San Diego. Then to Texas A&M. It was a glorious time for him because he was with her even though the marriage was floundering, and he was lost at the thought of not being with her.

The family moving stopped there, and he moved on. He left with wonderful memories. He knew her mother loved her more than anything on earth and that was enough. It had to be enough.

So she grew up well. He spent as much time as he could with her, nearly all of his thirty days a year of allotted leave time. Her mother was good about letting her travel to places to be with him and with his parents. She spent a lot of summer time in Lebanon, Tennessee, having fun.

It was as good as it could be except for Christmas. After he went to extra effort to be with her and her mother for two Christmases, he realized her mother would be lost without her for Christmas, that he was a third (or fourth or fifth) wheel on Christmas. So he gave it up. Christmas was never as good for him as it had been with her.

But she grew up well, and he did spend time with her. She was happy. And she could make him smile with just a photo of her.

There are many photos of them together. He may post more later just so he can revisit good memories again.

Life moved on. He met a woman who was a wonderful match for him, and she thought so too. A miracle he thought. She loved his daughter.

And then she became Maureen’s daughter.

It was a wonderful thing. Then she had a sister. They are wonderful together. It makes him happier than anything in the world when they show their happiness together. He has been known to have tears well up when he sees them together.

While she was in San Diego, she met this sailor and fell in love. It took a while, but they married and have one of the better marriages around.

Finally, finally, they produced a son: Samuel James Jewell Gander with his two middle names honoring his great grandfather. The old man, by now, Sam’s grandfather is so proud of Sam, his buttons damn near burst when he talks about him. If there is one thing in his life the old man would change, it would be to spend as much time as he could with Sam.

But the world and factors one can’t control often keep us from having what we want. And so it is.

She has a wonderful job now. She has a good husband. She takes care of her mother and her mother takes care of the three of them, especially Sam. It is as it should be, or as close as it can get. For his daughter, he accepts that as enough.

And oh boy, at forty-six (today), she is an incredible woman with an incredible son.

And he loves her still.

Happy Birthday, Blythe.

i reread my post from last night this morning, and i realized there were a couple of things not there i wanted to express. Several responses from friends to that post made me determined to make this addition.

And oh by the way, Independence doesn’t include a free pass.

As Major Kenneth Morgan, the erstwhile Latin professor at Castle Heights defined in my 1958 freshman class: “Freedom is the ability to do anything you want…as long as it doesn’t infringe on someone else’s freedom.”

Those folks 242 years ago fought against tyranny for their (and our) independence. We have fought in our continued effort to pursue the ideas of independence, freedom, and equality against other tyranny. It ain’t easy.

To have freedom, each of us has to be accountable, responsible, and work. Yes, work. We seem to be all fired set on not working, on having fun, on doing what we want to do. Well, work is part of that. If we are lucky, our work is part of what we want to do, not something we have to do. But sometimes it just doesn’t work that way.

With the idea of independence, freedom, and equality for all, then we need to work for everyone’s independence, to step forward and fight for that independence, to speak up against self-interest, fear, and of course, downright prejudiced regardless of how well it is cloaked in some crazy idea of it being the right thing when those things threaten our or anyone else’s opportunity to be free and equal…so they too can have that responsibility, accountability and work for a better country.

And we should celebrate our independence today and every day and give thanks for those before us who gave us the privilege, the right, and the responsibility to do our part.

i hope you all have had a wonderful Independence Day.

It wasn’t all that good of a day, this Independence Day eve, if you will.

Oh, i got a lot of things done, but, as usual, none of them ever quite reached conclusion: lots of loose ends to tie up. Then, it looked like things were turning around. i went to the driving range and once again, thought i might have found some magic solution to consistency in hitting a golf ball, an illusion of magnificent proportions. Still, it felt good.

Then i came home for Maureen and i to tag team on dinner, a grilled steak being my contribution and of course Maureen’s incredible salads (once prompting my father to declare he could be a vegetarian if that was his fare). We tagged team on cleaning up as well, and then we sat down to watch the Padres play the Athletic in Oakland.

In the sixth inning, i gave up, passed the remote to Maureen and walked outside to the sitting area. Of course, even in the first part of July, one does not sit outside in the Southwest corner without a top shirt, which i added. i sat here as the glow of the sunset and the city turned dark and once again, opened up this infernal machine.

i thought about tomorrow and all of the stuff people will do. We will go to the North Island Naval Air Station and play golf with our wonderful friends, Pete and Nancy Toennies. Then we will repair to their home on the island for burgers. It will be a good day, and if we are lucky we will miss the traffic in the morning and return early enough to miss the traffic in the evening. We would prefer not to engage in the throng enhanced craziness some folks call a celebration of independence.

Really?

Independence is a tricky concept. If you are truly independent, you are utterly and uncompromisingly alone.

Some 242 years ago, the folks who escaped the tyranny of autocratic rule and oppression against many beliefs crossed an ocean, and subsequently defied that tyranny to win independence.

For them. Not for the folks who were here before they got here and not for the folks who came after them, regardless of how they got here if they were different from them.

Those folks who were trying to gain their freedom from tyranny had some rather incredible ideas about true independence and equality. Of course, it was for them, not for any others not of their background and ethnicity.

But the idea of equality, freedom, and independence for all was the core of what they founded even if they weren’t completely true to the idea of that concept for all.

It was the idea of complete freedom and equality that formed the best governmental system the world has ever seen before or since.

But we keep trying to fix it. Trying to make it better for…For whom? For us, not them.

You see, all of these folks since practically the beginning of time think they have the unquestionable right idea of how to make it all perfect…for them.

And every one of those ideas about what is right has a common problem. They are exclusionary. Those ideas are about what works best for them. Not everybody. The solutions are exclusionary.

Now, i’m not claiming to have an answer. i guess all of you people who know the answer and excoriate those who disagree are smarter than me. However, your answers for the problems always seem to leave someone out or throw rocks over the wall at all of the bad acts out there who keep you from getting your way and disagree with your solution.

i’m not that smart.

i hope. Oh lord, i hope i’m not exclusionary.

Freedom is freedom. For everyone.

No system, not modification of a system will bring real independence.

What will?

No exclusion. Peace. Lack of hatred and fear. People treating people in their personal relationships as equals, treating them as equals. Wow. What a concept.

And you know what? As imperfect as it was, those folks who declared independence back 242 years ago, then fought for their independence, then won, they had the right idea.

And it’s that idea of independence we should be celebrating. Wait. No, not celebrating with picnics, eating too much bad food, drinking too much and admiring fireworks supposedly representing something that brings noise, destruction, and death, and all sorts of other ways of having fun.

No, we should be celebrating by quiet contemplation of how we can serve those who gave us the chance for independence with their sacrifice and their creation of the idea of true independence and equality. And then we should consider how we, as individuals, not of some political, religious, or other exclusionary grouping, but how we as our individual selves can deal with the folks we encounter as equals and as humans who are equal too us.

Don’t think that will happen.

But tonight outside my house on the coast of the Southwest corner and tomorrow while we are enjoying being with our friends, in the back of all of my thoughts will be thankfulness for my forebears who not only came up with an idea about true independence but fought for it and won. And then i will consider how i can best contribute to the idea of independence and equality for all.

May you have a wonderful Independence Day…and think about it.

i had this pop into my head last night as i was putting the house down for the night. i was tired. As i took my evening pills, this thought popped into my head. i mean it popped in there and i knew it was not going to be there in the morning unless i wrote it down. So i came back to this infernal machine and pounded out the thought, expanded on it a bit. This morning, i smoothed it up a bit till it sort of sounded to me like it should.

i was going to send it to three of my best friends, the three i know to whom i can say pretty damn well what i’m thinking and not be thought of less, even if they don’t exactly agree: Henry Harding, who is my brother from childhood, who i don’t see anywhere near often enough, and who gives me strength and hope while staying grounded; Pete Toennies, my Navy sidekick (or am i his…who cares) who disagrees with me to the point where we can’t agree who disagrees with whom first, but is always there to laugh at the absurdity of it all; and then there is my brother Joe, my best friend, who went to the opposite corner of the country from me (or perhaps i went here after he settled in the Northeast corner), who had a totally different career than mine, i.e. preacher/Navy officer, and who thinks like i do except more sanely. Then i said to myself what the heck. I should have no secrets. Too hard to keep them just like it is hard work if you lie to others or yourself and then try to live by that lie.

So here it is:

he saw it coming, knew it was not going to come out well for him,
but
he just kept right on like nothing was wrong;
i mean
he saw it coming
like an old time steam locomotive, screeching whistle, belching smoke,
barreling out of the fog headed straight for him
while
he kept moving on down the tracks
head on
as if he was going to stop that boiler of metal moving fire with his bare hands,
or
like the herd of bison, roaring, snorting out of the dust they raised
on the plains
while
he just kept on plowing toward them
with his mule and plow;
don’t know why;
he never did know why;
he just kept headed for sure disaster;
perhaps he just thought he was grand enough
to brace himself against that steaming, screaming locomotive
or
to rend asunder that roaring, snorting, thundering bison herd
and
tame them
all by himself;
putting one foot ahead of the other
doggedly moving toward the inexplicable but inevitable
train crash, stampede.
nah;
i think not;
i’m a’thinking
he just had enough faith, enough trust, not enough sense
and
was bullheaded enough
to believe he could somehow get through
and
move on.

There was a side to my father and JB Leftwich not seen by a lot of people. Over the years and with the passing of many of their friends, these two became best buddies. They got involved together in a number of shenanigans.

It began with some joke postcards and letters the two of them exchanged when one of them went on a trip. i don’t know who started it, but i suspect it was Coach Leftwich. On a trip, JB or my father spotted a risqué post card and send it to the other back in Lebanon. Coach would respond with a funny letter with all sorts of false stories like how the police were looking for the guy who sent the postcard.

This letter was the result of my father sending Coach a postcard featuring a huge gorilla. Unfortunately, i do not have copy of that postcard and what fictitious story my father wrote on the backside. But here is Coach’s reply: