Dad in the Marines

The Years and the Tears

Quite a few years ago now, my parents took us to Cooperstown to see the Hall of Fame induction ceremonies for Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford. There were others that were elected that year, but I really was only concerned about Mickey Mantle. I had never seen him play, but I had heard a lot about him. My mother is a great New York Yankee fan and she made sure that I was aware of them, too.

After getting myself separated from my parents during the ceremony on the Hall of Fame Library's lawn, I made a beeline for the temporary wooden fence that served as a barrier between the throngs of admirers and the inductees. I don't really remember much about their speeches, but I was fascinated by the whole process.

Later, Tam and I were able to roam the grounds and the lobby of the Otesaga Hotel in search of autographs of people that I had never heard of. Of course, our mom and dad knew of them all. We encountered Bob Feller checking it at the front desk, Satchel Paige out on the back patio, Ernie Banks heading upstairs to his room, and Whitey Ford holding a drink out on the porch. There were others like Eddie Matthews signing his autograph on a Hall of Fame Game scorecard that I had all while he held it firmly on my head. Unfortunately, he signed the message to Tammie and I didn't take that too well. There were just numerous similar encounters with these greats and it truly was a memorable experience for me. This all happened almost forty years ago and I still remember it very well.

Also during that trip,  my parents purchased the book, The Greatest in Baseball by Mac Davis and gave it to me to read. I don't know if I really have a favorite book, but there is no doubt that in 1974 that this was it. There were stories of Ruth, Gehrig, Mathewson, Robinson and Mantle among others. I devoured those stories throughout our ride back home to Camillus and my love for baseball was cemented right then and there.

In addition to reading about baseball (and other sports!), I loved to practice stances, pitching motions, fielding fundamentals and situational hitting. Not on my own, but with a cast of many imaginary but very formidable associates. Although I was never a very good ballplayer, my love for the game continued throughout my life.

When Tam was sick and in hospice, my nephew, Sean wrote a very touching story about watching a New York Yankees game for the last time with his mom. Tammie was also a big fan and enjoyed all of the same 1970's World Series games that I did. I am most sure that she would have loved to have known that her Yankees were returning once again to the series in 2009. A World Series that they would ultimately win and a championship that they haven't won since.

The night that Tammie died the Yankees were playing in the American League Championship Series against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (why aren't they still the California Angels?). I received a call from my mother and when I saw her number come up on the caller id., I knew what she was going to tell me. Despite realizing that Tam's death was inevitable, the news was stunning. I thought back to all those wonderful memories of our youth and retreated to my bedroom and turned on the television set.

For years, I haven't really been able to watch a game from start to finish of any of the teams that I root for. Odd, but I am so superstitious and adverse to stress that I just can't stand to look until the ending is no longer in doubt. As the game came on the screen, the score was 5-2 in favor of New York and the incredible, Mariano Rivera was on the mound. Essentially, this series was over and I decided to watch.

I realized as Rivera smoothly toss the ball towards home plate that this game that I had placed so much importance on was not actually important to me at all. This was not life and death and it really was just a game. In between the tears, I focused on the crowd, the swirling paper debris around home plate and my memories of very great sister. Baseball and sports had in large part lost their appeal to me and I have focused on other things.

Journeys

In the early days, our family always visited my grandparents, Mimi and Nonne, on Easter. I can remember looking forward to those trips for months, before we finally arrived in Wellsville. There was something about spring and seeing the buds on the trees, the robins in the lawn and all those familiar faces (many of whom are gone now). After coming through the long cold winter, those times signified for me, a new beginning.

In my mind, every life is a journey. As we celebrated Easter, I thought of the journey that Jesus took that eventually led to the cross and his resurrection. Everyone is on their own personal journey in life and searching for meaning and answers to the questions that arise and hopefully a new beginning.

This last winter, I was on my way back from work and it was snowing so hard that I didn't feel comfortable on the expressway (highway?). To alleviate my fears, I got off and decided to drive through some city back streets until I made my way back to suburbia. Syracuse didn't do such a good job taking care of their streets this year, nor the sidewalks for that matter. As I meandered my way through, I encountered several people who were walking down the middle of the road out of necessity. I looked out in the dark and the falling snow at these characters and wondered what their stories were. Where were they headed on such a night? home? to the neighborhood store? to rescue a friend or love one? and what memories would they develop during these adventures? I thought of all of my favorite holiday films and how there was always some character who was searching for something and meeting up with the strangest people along the way. These were people (or spirits) that you might not normally associate with (e.g. Christmas Carol, The Walton's Homecoming and It's a Wonderful Life), but come to rely on in a moment of need. In the end, the main character always found personal salvation of some sort and a new beginning in life.

I have been thinking of the idea of journeys for some time. Currently, I am reading a book entitled,  the Goodbye Quilt by Susan Wiggs and it has a similar theme. In it, a mother and daughter take a road trip from their home out West to a college in the Northeast. The daughter, Molly, drives while her mother sews a quilt comprised of special fabric mementos from Molly's many achievements over her short life. The mom is reminiscing while the daughter is becoming more and more apprehensive about her new stage in life. The quilt really ends up being the story of the mom's life and the new beginning that she discovers at the end of their trip.

When Tammie was dying, I thought of the past and how our lives had changed so since we were small. I could see that she was entering a new chapter and that death was not the end but in a sense a new beginning for her. At the time, this was difficult for me to contemplate until a friend pointed it out, but the concept makes perfect sense to me now. This Sunday, I am going to "celebrate" Tam's birthday by running my 7th Mountain Goat Run in Syracuse. Although, not nearly in shape, I decided that this 10 mile journey through Downtown Syracuse, Onondaga Street, Strathmore, the South Side, the University Section, and back Downtown would be dedicated to her memory and hoping that I discover a "new beginning" for me.

Fun with Sean

Today was a very cold day, but Sean was up and I took him to see Tam's bench. During the day, we shared some thoughts and stories about her and I am still having trouble processing what happened.

Life will never seem the same without her.

Last year, I made a post about our trips to the Camillus Ski Association hill that was practically in our back yard. We did this for a few years, but neither Tam or I became outstanding skiers. Last week, Tammie's son, Derek was up visiting and I took him to the old ski hill for a moment, before we headed for Green Lakes State Park in Manlius, NY.

Derek and I also went to a skating rink in Downtown Syracuse. Neither of us had any interest in skating, but it got me to thinking of skating in the past with my family. We used to skate at a park in Camillus, but a couple of years, my parents created a skating rink in our backyard. My dad brought out these old skates that he probably borrowed from Hans Brinker and stormed across the ice with all of his 200 plus pounds. Fortunately for us, he remained on his feet. I can't tell you how much that Tam and I enjoyed skating over the bumpy ice with my parents. I look out over that yard now, and realize how many wonderful moments I had growing up and how much my sister was an integral part of that.

This was the ski hill where we first learned about snowplowing and how to get up from a terrible fall. We had a lot of those.

The best part of these trips for me was warming up with some hot chocolate after the falling had stopped.

Covered in Snow

In My Heart

One year ago, we received a call from my Mother who told us that my incredible sister had passed away.  Despite realizing that the inevitable was going to happen, I was beyond stunned. After I hung up the phone, I tried to process what I had just heard.

That night, the New York Yankees were on their way to another American League Championship and had Mariano Rivera on the mound. Rivera is perhaps the greatest relief pitcher of all time and when he comes in to pitch, the ball game is usually on it's way to being over. I retreated to my bedroom to watch the final outs and my mind drifted back to all the times that I spent alone and how baseball and sports had always been a personal refuge. Today, they couldn't help me hide the pain, however, so instead I just watched as this tremendous pitcher methodicaly closed out yet another big game. He is the one the Yankees turn to when they are in trouble and he almost always comes through. Tammie was that kind of person for me.

As a kid, she was my protector and was seemingly always there when I needed prodding or was afraid. She gave me strength in difficult social situations and helpful encouragement when I needed confidence. There have been so many times over the past year, when I have wished that I could talk to her about something funny that has happened or heard her laugh. Unfortunately, I won't be able to experience any of that, ever again.

Over the weekend, I finished a book entitled Cape Ann by Faith Sullivan.  The book is about a young girl named Lark, who is growing up during the Depression in Minnesota and documents the struggles endured by her and her family. During all the heartbreak and sorrow,  a very close friend commits suicide and Lark cannot make sense or overcome the terrible tragedy.  At one point, the young man's mother tells Lark that she is considering moving across the country and away from her son's grave. In her explanation, his mother says, "Hillyard is gone, Lark."  "What is left of him on this earth is in my heart and in yours."  I know that there is nothing or no one that can bring my sister back to me, but my memories of her and the influence that she has had on me will reside in me forever.

I love you, Tam.

Letter from Mom

Tam,

It's hard to believe that it has been a year since we actually were able to see your beautiful smile and to give you a kiss and tell you we love you. Each day, I think of you throughout the many hours, the things around me remind me of you and Billy when you both lived here. I hope I never have to leave this house.

The last several years, you and your father went shopping and among other things you bought our Christmas cards; I always loved them. This past year, I used the cards that you had purchased. This year, your father and I had to pick out our cards without you. We got some that I'm sure that you would have liked.

Your boys have been so good staying in touch with us and we feel very close to both Sean and Derek. You would be proud of them; you were a good Mother.

The whole family will always remember you and never stop loving you.

Love,

Mom

A Letter From Dad

Tammie,

It doesn't seem possible that you passed on almost a year ago. I was watching stories about you on Facebook that your brother Bill was showing us on his computer and was very happy to see the many friends you had growing up in Camillus.

Honey, I think I must be clairvoyant, as I see you near me every day. You have never left me in spirit and I think that is because of our heavenly father who has taken you into his great kingdom in heaven. He is the reason that you were with us for forty-eight years. Mother, Dad and Billy will think of you, every moment of every day and miss you very, very much.

Love,

Dad

Cousin Chris Pt. 2

Our cousins, Chris and Tara, were frequent visitors to our home over the years. There was this one time when Chris decided that he didn't want to leave and found a dixie cup and started watering all of my mother's plants. Tam and I tried in vain to get the cup away from him and help Aunt Brenda get him in the car. Fortunately, we have video footage of this memorable event. :-)

Summers End

(After a year, you realize that you don't have any new photos left!)

I had a doctor's appointment today and after a bout with the scale, I realize that my quest to achieve a weight that would make an NFL fullback proud, continues. Blah!

While I was waiting for my doctor to arrive, I glanced outside and saw the gorgeous reds and yellows of the sugar maple trees. Despite the ensuing cold winter, these wonderful trees struggle to keep their leaves. Seasons change and life continues to move forward.

When I was little, fall was my favorite of all the seasons. I loved looking at the beautiful trees and the feel of the crisp, autumn air. When you're eight or nine, time seems forever and fall is about the colors. Now, it is a time of sadness and a time to reflect on the endless summers of growing up with Tam. Summers of riding bikes around the big block or down the Genesee Rd. hill or catching fireflies in a jar.

I Loved Tammie - Chris Brown

I loved Tammie,

She was a powerhouse figure in my life.

I used to visit her at her house in Ravena, NY. She and I used to listen to classic rock at her house. I remember when Sean was only one year old and Derek wasn't even born yet. I remember how much she loved her children. I remember how proud she was of Sean, and how proud she was of Derek's birth.

We used to listen to classic rock n' roll and had a good time listening to bands like Rod Stewart and Led Zeppelin, and used to have a good time talking, and hanging out. I used to love her "scary story" about Camillus Hill, and the strange Halloween characters that she used to love to tell about about "the people" coming down from the hill to attack us. Halloween is my favorite holiday and I used to love Tammie's stories.

I found Tammie to be one of the most interesting people I have ever hung out with. I want her boys to remember her as a teacher, a mother, and a go-getter. She was always ambitious.

We had a good time together because Tammie was an important person, with important dreams, and she loved to have a good time. She was also a very intelligent person with dreams to teach.

Christopher Brown

Happy Birthday, Derek

Today, is Tammie's boy, Derek's birthday. I know that she had a special relationship with both of her boys and I can't think of them without thinking of her.

A few months ago, I got the chance to run with my nephew a couple of times. I have been running for twenty years or so, and ran an awful lot when I lived in Ravena with the Hacheys. I can remember trying to run when I was much younger and even jogging with Tammie once or twice. I hold out hope that Derek and I can run a race sometime. That would be cool.

Lastly, I was thinking of waves on the ocean and how each one is a little different. Some make a large splash and others just quietly drift to the shore. Tammie definitely made a large splash in our lives. Maybe there is a haiku in that. Guess I'll work on that.

"Seems Like Old Times"

 I went over to my Mom and Dad's home for a run in the old neighborhood this evening. While there, I looked around at the quiet house and thought back to all the fun times we used to have there.  The old homestead looks a bit different, now. When I was growing up it was red and my father seemed to paint it just about every year. Most times, these paint jobs seemed to coincide with family vacations, but that's old news. 

I can remember playing seemingly endless games of wiffleball, basketball, and football (real and imagined), there. Sometimes by myself and sometimes with groups of friends. Whether I was with others or by myself, though,  I was never alone. 

By this time of year, Tammie and I would be back to school, as the long summer nights and warm days would be a distant memory. She always seemed to like being at school and interacting with her friends. Many times they would come over and fill the place with laughter and secret guy talk. Despite a nagging litle brother, they would always come. I think Tam's personality was too persuasive.

Tonight as I made yet another attempt to turn back the clock on my running "career".  I felt as though I was stuck in a place where the music had stopped and everyone had left years before. Fortunately, my Mom and Dad will be back home in a few days and the stillness will abate.

Believe me, I was a 5 minute miler twenty years ago! Now, I am just an old sweaty mess. :-)

I can only wish, but those don't come true.

One Year Ago

Last September 9th, my mother called me at work to let me know that Tammie had cancer and that it was inoperable. There couldn't have been a worse prognosis, as she was given just a month to live. I was just stunned during my conversation and after I hung up the phone, I needed to leave work for a while in attempt to clear my head. If it weren't for the fact that I was the only librarian on that night, I wouldn't have come back. About a week later, I started this blog.

Today, I was thinking back to an old 45 record that Tammie used to have. We used to dance to it and act out these crazy skits. I remember that it only worked if she had her boots on and somewhere along the way, starting stomping stuff. Thanks Nancy Sinatra for some wonderful memories.

NYS Fair

The NYS Fair is almost over for another year. Tammie loved to go to the Fair and I have blogged about our big fight on stage back in '69. After that tumultous visit, my family continued to go and usually would arrive early in the morning and stay way too late at night. My Mom used to restrict us to one ride a piece and the rest of the time would be spent listening to music, eating, or touring the various buildings.

Somewhere in the late 1970's, we became interested in entering competitions. I had this rabbit named Patches, and I got this brilliant idea to bring him to the Fair and have him compete for a rabbit blue ribbon or whatever they award in such things. Now, I didn't even have a carrier for the little guy and had to carry him in my arms from our car to the Poultry Building. Once there, he was tattooed with a number and then taken care of for the week. This was great for me, as I didn't have to worry about being bitten or cleaning his cage. In addition, my Mom and Dad received parking and entry passes for the entire run of the Fair. This wasn't bad, once you consider the $5.00 rabbit entry fee.

Unfortunately for Patches he was disqualified. Apparently, he didn't have the necessary markings that would make him a champion Dutch Black rabbit. The staff at the Poultry Building took great pains to tell me that he was very well behaved, though. I remember that it was quite painful to hear at the time, but I got over it quick and used the story for a show and tell segment in my class in school that fall.

Tammie concentrated on cooking and entered various bake goods. Of course, they didn't take such entries at the Poultry Building, but they did at the Arts and Home. I remember her making snickerdoodles and molasses cookies (I am pretty sure that she would have never eaten a molasses cookie, otherwise). Much to my tween/young teen shock, she actually won blue ribbons for that stuff. I believe her previous cooking experience consisted of fried peanut butter sandwiches and fried bologna. She always told me that you had to wait until the center of the bologna blew up, before you could poke it with a fork and eat it.

We were all quite proud of her cooking triumphs and she actually was interviewed by a reporter from the Camillus Advocate. Hurray for Tam! She never ceased to surprise us all.

One of the last times that I spoke with her, she lamented that she missed going to the fair for the first time in her memory.

Missing You

My sister's bench was installed at the Camillus Erie Canal Park, today. I am not sure why the name Hachey is in quotes, but I will probably spend a lot of time sitting here after running.

Mimi and Tam

More From Wellsville, New York

Library terrace

Main Street

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Allentown School ( a lot of Swarthouts attended school here)

Uncle Nathan - My Grandfather's Brother

Remnant of the oil industry

Nana and Lew's

Pink House in Wellsville, Ny

Location of my Grandparents' store. Searle's News Store in Wellsville, NY

The tree on the left was planted my sister and the one on the right was planted in honor of me! They were kept trimmed and kept short all these years.

We had many a wiffleball battle in this yard. (and there were many times that I just played there by myself)

Front porch of my Grandparents' home

I loved sitting on the glider and watching the trains go by with my Grandfather. Tammie and the rest of us, were constantly warned not to climb the railings.

Saying goodbye to my grandmother's good friend and next-door neighbor, Marley.

Mimi's chair