JC - thanks for the piece on "Shoe". Just sent some LEGO kits to Tammi.
On Father's Day I think of my single Mom. She deserved both Mother's and Father's Day. Raised six kids, worked two jobs, graduated from College and then went on to her MS in Special Ed....all while catching for me and attending all my ball games. Thanks Mom/Dad.
When I was young we were rather poor financially. Dad gave us kids the gift of time, which it turns out was the most important gift you can give. Weekends playing in the mountains of oregon, and I got to work and hunt with him thru my college years. Just celebrated his 80th birthday a couple of weeks ago. Still living independently, working on his old cars, and maintaining his 40 acres of trees.
Just a few apple trees. He uses those to feed the deer and elk, now he just watches them. Most all of it is a fir forest, but does have some oak and pine also.
It seems like every time I read one of your articles I need to write you a thank you. And so it is today. Thank you! Life is more than just sports and you put things in proper perspective for your readers. And we need that perspective. Thank you and have a great day. Jim
I'll never forget the day he got home from work and surprised me with my very first baseball glove. I was so excited and couldn't wait for him to get home everyday to play catch.
He was right there years later in San Diego, with encouraging words before I left the hotel to my first World Series plate job in 1998.
Thank you John for letting all of us share in your and our memories.
Thank you Dale. That memory and the glove... and catch... I wonder if we both pursued lines of work that involved those positive associations. Be well my friend.
Happy Father's Day, John. You are one very special father but also a very special human being. What you do for your readers is very special. For me I look forward to your reads each and every day. The greatest gift didn't come from my father, it came from my Mother before she died. Both of my parent's were Alcoholics. Before she died, she made us ward of the State of California. She knew that would be the best chance of making it in our 🌎 world with her gone. I believe we are all created equal by our Heavenly Father. We're all dealt a hand to play in life and it's up to us to make the most of it. I've always felt like I received a pair of 3's. Not really a great hand but if you play it right you can do better then a pair of kings. We just have to find what God has given to those of us who didn't get a good hand to play in life. It's there in each individual we just have to find that inner you in yourself.
Good morning, John!! Sadly.....consistently, but positively, I look forward to your email about Tammy and Shoe. Like clockwork I read it, make sure I'm alone before I bury my head in my hands and cry furiously, then set forth to continue the day. You told Tammy that, if you were in the same situation, you would be selfish and focus on your own loss. I would definitely do the same thing, because I fiercely love my three daughters and can't fathom what it would be like to lose one.
I always love your stories about your dad, when you were young. To have a dad who played baseball when he was young and talk about those days would be like Christmas every day!! I'm extremely happy for you that he is still with you.
Just helped spread the ashes of an uncle last weekend down in Depoe Bay. More of a father figure than an uncle as the relationship with my own father was very strained at best.
Among the many acts of kindness from this uncle was after I had dislocated both kneecaps in a freak ice skating accident at the Lloyd Center, three weeks before my high school basketball season began, he arrived at our house with three books in hand. One was entitled, "I Am Third", the story of NFL running back Gale Sayers & his comeback from serious knee injury in the 60's. The message was very simply written- "God is first, others second & I am third." Helped get a young kid through a rough go & I was always very grateful for that.
As a thank you for speaking & moderating at his recent memorial service, his kids(more like brothers & sisters than cousins) presented me with his personally autographed Nolan Ryan baseball. Something I'll always treasure.
Thinking of him fondly on this Father's Day. He is greatly missed.
My Dad was a groundskeeper for the University of Oregon when I was born. He lined Hayward Field for football games when they played there. He would tell me stories of meeting Bill Bowerman and Mel Renfroe.
Later he started a landscaping business with the skills he learned from that which produced all kinds of memories. We would do some of his business accounts on Saturday so during the fall on game days at Autzen we would take a change of clothes to go to the game. We would stop early and change at a nearby gas station and then head over to Autzen to watch Bobby Moore and Dan Fouts.
My Dad was not interesting in building a big business, he was an artisan that took pride in how his accounts looked. We would construct new lawns moving tons of soil by wheel barrow in 90 degree heat in the Eugene summers, and rake mountains of leaves with hand rakes before blowers were a thing.
He died a relatively early death from Leukemia, almost certainly from the cocktail of lawn pesticides he often spilled in his work truck. He wasn't a perfect Dad, but he was a good one. He taught my brothers and I hard work, integrity, and what a Dad should be. I often think about what he would tell me in difficult situations.
I still miss him greatly 30 years after his death.
My dad was born to farmers. Grampa moved to Oregon after WWI messed up his lungs with mustard gas and he couldn't take Iowa humidity. Breakfast was at daybreak, and I learned early how to make drip coffee for Mom and cook eggs with Dad. He used a 7" cast iron skillet and when I could reach things, he let me use it after he was done. I discovered that mine tasted better because I didn't overcook them. Telling him would have spoiled a ritual I treasure to this day. My kids and grandkids use a microwave, but they don't overcook their eggs or scour the cast iron with anything more than a paper towel. Some traditions have to survive.
The greatest gift that my father to me was to check my anger. I only saw him angry twice and both were when others were not being kind to animals. He taught me to feel the anger rising and learn to keep it under control. He was always at every game I ever played in High School no matter the sport. If I felt anger creeping up from a bad call or an opponent who was playing dirty, I only needed to find him in the crowd and my feelings would temper because he would have a wry smile and his hand out with the palm down. He knew what I was feeling. While I have been angry more than twice, it serves me now. Now I find him in an imaginary crowd in my mind and calm myself. I miss him everyday…
Happy Father’s Day to you John! My father would be about 100 years old. Tough, stoic but loving to we three boys when it counted. Perhaps him being a Pearl Harbor survivor made him tougher than most. I miss him lots!
My Dad grew up poor in Nebraska and later Colorado. He was a 3 sport letterman in HS and got a football scholarship to CU. Scholarships weren’t that great back in the day so he also milked cows in a dairy and was a houseboy at a sorority as well as taking all the prerequisites for an engineering degree. It was too much and he quit after his freshman year. He joined the Army and ended up fighting all over the Pacific in WW2.
I was the youngest of 2 daughters. I became my Dad’s football buddy every Saturday and Sunday (way before you could watch any game anywhere). My Dad gave me the gift of the love of the game.
Good be work John. My dad was the greatest man I’ve ever known, and was memorialized along with untold others like him in Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation”. An incredibly humble guy, one of the few times he ever let me in about his remembrances of the Depression (he was 9) was a night we had a few bourbons, and he talked about traveling in railroad cars across Idaho and Montana in the winter with my grandfather while he looked for work as a welder. He talked about having to wipe his ass with a page from Montgomery Ward catalog.
He ended up graduating from UCLA during Jackie Robinson’s time and was successful. He revered John Wooden, and that’s pretty much how I grew up. I still have the tickets from the Final Four in Portland circa 1965. He was hard on me, created a terrific work ethic, and demanded the best always - both in and outside of the classroom. Any shortcomings I had were of my own doing - not his, I was given every opportunity.
He made it to 93, and died in March, 2013. Don James died in October, 2013 - it was a tough year, and I miss him every day.
This weekend, I’m down in Grants Pass from Portland to help a niece purge a storage unit. I threw a few things in a bag that we might need…hammer, duct tape, scissors, etc. At one point, I showed the hammer to my niece, as it was my dad’s. With that hammer, he built the home I grew up in, a cabin up at beautiful Lake of the Woods, a ski boat, a fishing boat, a camper for his truck, and endless bookshelves, end tables, etc. He used it for so long, there’s a permanent crease in the handle where his hand was. When I hold that hammer, it feels like I’m holding his hand. He could make anything, including the first curtains for our beloved cabin on a treadle sewing machine. He has been gone 34 years, yet that hammer brings him right back, along with one of his best lessons taught us as we enjoyed the lake….”If you want to fish, you have to bait your own hook”. What a great life lessons to use as a springboard for so many goals. Happy Father’s Day, John!
JC - thanks for the piece on "Shoe". Just sent some LEGO kits to Tammi.
On Father's Day I think of my single Mom. She deserved both Mother's and Father's Day. Raised six kids, worked two jobs, graduated from College and then went on to her MS in Special Ed....all while catching for me and attending all my ball games. Thanks Mom/Dad.
Thank you for your heart Skip
Happy Father's Day John! Enjoy.
Awesome
When I was young we were rather poor financially. Dad gave us kids the gift of time, which it turns out was the most important gift you can give. Weekends playing in the mountains of oregon, and I got to work and hunt with him thru my college years. Just celebrated his 80th birthday a couple of weeks ago. Still living independently, working on his old cars, and maintaining his 40 acres of trees.
Yes. Love this. What a great message. For me, those games of catch and the newspaper were time.
Great story Chris!!! Happy father's day buddy!!
Such a good message.
Beautiful. Apple trees?
Just a few apple trees. He uses those to feed the deer and elk, now he just watches them. Most all of it is a fir forest, but does have some oak and pine also.
A meme my son sent me recently sums my relationship with my Dad (and evidently his with me!):
“Coach made me run laps today because I was late for practice.
My Dad is the coach.
And he drove me to practice.”
It seems like every time I read one of your articles I need to write you a thank you. And so it is today. Thank you! Life is more than just sports and you put things in proper perspective for your readers. And we need that perspective. Thank you and have a great day. Jim
Means a lot to me that you are here. Thank you Jim.
His finger is on the pulse and his hand in our hearts I say.
Ha. Thank you.
This is my first Father's Day without my dad.
I'll never forget the day he got home from work and surprised me with my very first baseball glove. I was so excited and couldn't wait for him to get home everyday to play catch.
He was right there years later in San Diego, with encouraging words before I left the hotel to my first World Series plate job in 1998.
Thank you John for letting all of us share in your and our memories.
Thank you Dale. That memory and the glove... and catch... I wonder if we both pursued lines of work that involved those positive associations. Be well my friend.
That glove took you everywhere!
Happy Father's Day, John. You are one very special father but also a very special human being. What you do for your readers is very special. For me I look forward to your reads each and every day. The greatest gift didn't come from my father, it came from my Mother before she died. Both of my parent's were Alcoholics. Before she died, she made us ward of the State of California. She knew that would be the best chance of making it in our 🌎 world with her gone. I believe we are all created equal by our Heavenly Father. We're all dealt a hand to play in life and it's up to us to make the most of it. I've always felt like I received a pair of 3's. Not really a great hand but if you play it right you can do better then a pair of kings. We just have to find what God has given to those of us who didn't get a good hand to play in life. It's there in each individual we just have to find that inner you in yourself.
Good morning, John!! Sadly.....consistently, but positively, I look forward to your email about Tammy and Shoe. Like clockwork I read it, make sure I'm alone before I bury my head in my hands and cry furiously, then set forth to continue the day. You told Tammy that, if you were in the same situation, you would be selfish and focus on your own loss. I would definitely do the same thing, because I fiercely love my three daughters and can't fathom what it would be like to lose one.
I always love your stories about your dad, when you were young. To have a dad who played baseball when he was young and talk about those days would be like Christmas every day!! I'm extremely happy for you that he is still with you.
Happy Father's Day!!!
Thank you Mark. I can not imagine...
Just helped spread the ashes of an uncle last weekend down in Depoe Bay. More of a father figure than an uncle as the relationship with my own father was very strained at best.
Among the many acts of kindness from this uncle was after I had dislocated both kneecaps in a freak ice skating accident at the Lloyd Center, three weeks before my high school basketball season began, he arrived at our house with three books in hand. One was entitled, "I Am Third", the story of NFL running back Gale Sayers & his comeback from serious knee injury in the 60's. The message was very simply written- "God is first, others second & I am third." Helped get a young kid through a rough go & I was always very grateful for that.
As a thank you for speaking & moderating at his recent memorial service, his kids(more like brothers & sisters than cousins) presented me with his personally autographed Nolan Ryan baseball. Something I'll always treasure.
Thinking of him fondly on this Father's Day. He is greatly missed.
Happy Father's Day to all!
My Dad was a groundskeeper for the University of Oregon when I was born. He lined Hayward Field for football games when they played there. He would tell me stories of meeting Bill Bowerman and Mel Renfroe.
Later he started a landscaping business with the skills he learned from that which produced all kinds of memories. We would do some of his business accounts on Saturday so during the fall on game days at Autzen we would take a change of clothes to go to the game. We would stop early and change at a nearby gas station and then head over to Autzen to watch Bobby Moore and Dan Fouts.
My Dad was not interesting in building a big business, he was an artisan that took pride in how his accounts looked. We would construct new lawns moving tons of soil by wheel barrow in 90 degree heat in the Eugene summers, and rake mountains of leaves with hand rakes before blowers were a thing.
He died a relatively early death from Leukemia, almost certainly from the cocktail of lawn pesticides he often spilled in his work truck. He wasn't a perfect Dad, but he was a good one. He taught my brothers and I hard work, integrity, and what a Dad should be. I often think about what he would tell me in difficult situations.
I still miss him greatly 30 years after his death.
My dad was born to farmers. Grampa moved to Oregon after WWI messed up his lungs with mustard gas and he couldn't take Iowa humidity. Breakfast was at daybreak, and I learned early how to make drip coffee for Mom and cook eggs with Dad. He used a 7" cast iron skillet and when I could reach things, he let me use it after he was done. I discovered that mine tasted better because I didn't overcook them. Telling him would have spoiled a ritual I treasure to this day. My kids and grandkids use a microwave, but they don't overcook their eggs or scour the cast iron with anything more than a paper towel. Some traditions have to survive.
The greatest gift that my father to me was to check my anger. I only saw him angry twice and both were when others were not being kind to animals. He taught me to feel the anger rising and learn to keep it under control. He was always at every game I ever played in High School no matter the sport. If I felt anger creeping up from a bad call or an opponent who was playing dirty, I only needed to find him in the crowd and my feelings would temper because he would have a wry smile and his hand out with the palm down. He knew what I was feeling. While I have been angry more than twice, it serves me now. Now I find him in an imaginary crowd in my mind and calm myself. I miss him everyday…
Wow- good one. I needed your Dad😃, to check my anger appearances
Happy Father’s Day to you John! My father would be about 100 years old. Tough, stoic but loving to we three boys when it counted. Perhaps him being a Pearl Harbor survivor made him tougher than most. I miss him lots!
Pearl Harbor would do that.
My Dad grew up poor in Nebraska and later Colorado. He was a 3 sport letterman in HS and got a football scholarship to CU. Scholarships weren’t that great back in the day so he also milked cows in a dairy and was a houseboy at a sorority as well as taking all the prerequisites for an engineering degree. It was too much and he quit after his freshman year. He joined the Army and ended up fighting all over the Pacific in WW2.
I was the youngest of 2 daughters. I became my Dad’s football buddy every Saturday and Sunday (way before you could watch any game anywhere). My Dad gave me the gift of the love of the game.
Love hearing those stories.
Good be work John. My dad was the greatest man I’ve ever known, and was memorialized along with untold others like him in Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation”. An incredibly humble guy, one of the few times he ever let me in about his remembrances of the Depression (he was 9) was a night we had a few bourbons, and he talked about traveling in railroad cars across Idaho and Montana in the winter with my grandfather while he looked for work as a welder. He talked about having to wipe his ass with a page from Montgomery Ward catalog.
He ended up graduating from UCLA during Jackie Robinson’s time and was successful. He revered John Wooden, and that’s pretty much how I grew up. I still have the tickets from the Final Four in Portland circa 1965. He was hard on me, created a terrific work ethic, and demanded the best always - both in and outside of the classroom. Any shortcomings I had were of my own doing - not his, I was given every opportunity.
He made it to 93, and died in March, 2013. Don James died in October, 2013 - it was a tough year, and I miss him every day.
This weekend, I’m down in Grants Pass from Portland to help a niece purge a storage unit. I threw a few things in a bag that we might need…hammer, duct tape, scissors, etc. At one point, I showed the hammer to my niece, as it was my dad’s. With that hammer, he built the home I grew up in, a cabin up at beautiful Lake of the Woods, a ski boat, a fishing boat, a camper for his truck, and endless bookshelves, end tables, etc. He used it for so long, there’s a permanent crease in the handle where his hand was. When I hold that hammer, it feels like I’m holding his hand. He could make anything, including the first curtains for our beloved cabin on a treadle sewing machine. He has been gone 34 years, yet that hammer brings him right back, along with one of his best lessons taught us as we enjoyed the lake….”If you want to fish, you have to bait your own hook”. What a great life lessons to use as a springboard for so many goals. Happy Father’s Day, John!