There have been several special sports events that family members have been fortunate to witness. I've mentioned the Ron Dayne Badger Football game in November of 1999. The game was attended by John Hollander, Paul and myself. Dayne set the NCAA record for career rushing yardage and the Badgers beat Iowa to win the Big 10 Championship 41-7 on their way to a second straight Rose Bowl victory.
The baseball moment that sticks out in my mind is attending a Milwaukee Brewers playoff game in 1982. The Brewers were playing the California Angels and needed to win 3 games to move on in the playoffs. The first two games had been in California and the Angels had won both games. The series moved to Milwaukee County Stadium and things didn't look too good for the Brewers.
I was working at Vollrath at the time and our lawyer at Foley and Lardner in Milwaukee offered me 4 tickets to the first playoff game in Milwaukee. The tickets were in the first row boxes of the Mezzanine right behind home plate. The Mezzanine had it's own refreshment stand and private restrooms. How good does it get? Your mom and I attended along with my brother Jerry Lee and son Paul. Paul again? He seems to pop up at all the memorable events.
It was an afternoon game, I think played on a Thursday. The Brewer pitcher was ageng Don Sutton, a L.A. Dodger cast-off. It was late September and the temperature was low 70's.
Off course there were hot dogs and soda and beer. If we ran short, we would just mosey down a short hallway and replenish.
If the Brewers lost, their season ended. This was definitely a "do or die" game. As it played out, the game was very close most of the way. I remember Cecil Cooper getting a few hits and the supporting cast was Robin Yount (a hall of famer), Paul Molitor (another hall of famer), and Gorman Thomas (a "bubba" home run hitter) playing key roles. I don't remember the ebb and flow of the game but the Brewers prevailed 5-3. They were still alive.
I remember it was a joyous ride home. We knew we had seen something special.
The Brewers went on to win the next two games against California and moved on in the playoffs.
The Brewers made it to the world series and they played the St.Louis Cardinals in the World Series. The cardinals prevailed in a 7 game series so the Brewers fell just short of the ultimate goal.
In reflecting back, we got to witness the Brewers first play-off game ever and it was the prelude to the only time the Brewers were ever in a World Series.
You never know when those special moments are going to come along. Even better is getting to share the time with family and friends.
Love,
Dad
I have been steadily invited to soccer games and tournaments locally as Nevin, Keely (until recently) and Collin displayed their skills. They all are really pretty good and limited only buy how much effort they want to put into the sport.
Kids grow in summer. I don't know if it is sunshine, fresh-air, or just lots of exercise. Collin is approaching the height of his father and I hope he continues to stretch out and leave his dad in the dust.
Collin enters high school this fall and decided to "try out" for the Appleton North High School Freshman Soccer team. I don't know if they call that "junior varsity" or not but making the team is a big deal. Last week he needed to report to high school at eight o'clock each morning to compete for the open positions (classes don't actually start for several weeks).
Collin is better at soccer skills that he might know. He can do clever tricks with the ball using his feet. He knows "where the goal line is" and his dad has schooled him on soccer rules. He can kick with either foot. Last Wednesday was the decision day. It was the moment that all eager candidates for the freshman soccer team would learn their fate. Would Collin make it or not?
Well wouldn't you know, Collin is now a member of the Appleton High Freshman team and his emphasis will be playing forward. Ain't that something special.
There was one "mountain" to climb. Nevin played when he was a freshman and I know that he had a few disagreements with the coach. Nevin can be "colorful" at times so I know the coach remembered that Andrews' kid. When Collin reported for soccer try-outs, I'm sure he dealt with the Andrews legacy. If you've been around Collin you would not have been concerned because his charismatic personally usually wins out.
Collin has already won. He took a chance. He tried out for something he really loves and he made the team. He will be good at what he does.
That entitles Collin to be a BMOC which as most of you know is Big Man on Campus. His classmates will know he plays soccer for the school and he has the official jerseys and jackets to prove it. Girls will be swooning at his feet.
So to Collin: congratulations! Don't stop now. Be the best that you can be.
Love,
Grandpa Chuck
My dad was always a child at heart. Baseball defined him. When the dream of being a major league baseball player faded, he turned to playing for Plymouth's "City" team and coached Chuck and Jack in organized baseball for kids. I don't remember having a choice about playing baseball. It consumed our free time. Baseball was as important as breathing.
The baseball group of kids that were my age were special. We had a lot of talented athletes and won everything in sight. We won pee-wee league championships, we won American legion championships, and we won high school championships.
There was one magical time when my classmates were all 14 years old and just about to enter high school. We had just finished the summer baseball season. At the same time, my dad was coaching the Plymouth American Legion team and Jack was a catcher for that team. Bucky approached my classmates and talked them into playing a Sheboygan tournament sponsored by the American Legion. All players had to be age 14 or under. I know how Bucky's mind worked and he figured that we could load up his team with talent and surprise everyone. He was anxious to showcase younger Jack with the older kids. The Sheboygan Legion entry also had a great team with a pitcher named Ayers that made front page news with several no-hitters. It would be power against power.
Here is the "dad" part of the story. Bucky as coach could play his two sons in a very special game and he could put them any place in the starting line-up that he wanted. Bucky had been grooming Jack to be a catcher and he dreamt that Jack could play with guys 3 years older. Hey a coach can do anything. So my dad (assisted by Art Mueller, Bill's dad) entered our talented team in the tournament.
Bucky had Chuckie leading off, followed by Hoffschild and anchored by brother Jack in the third position. Jack did not deserve to be in the number 3 slot but a father can dream. What the hell, Bucky was coach and for this one game, he could play it out anyway he wanted. Jack would hit in the power position.
I remember getting a fluke single off of Ayers in the first inning and it was the only team hit until about the fifth inning. Both teams were scoreless. I came to bat again against Ayers and hit a triple. I was on third base with nobody out. Our coaching brain trust decided to "squeeze" in a run with a bunt. On the squeeze play, the batter missed the ball and I ran into the catcher for an easy out. Still no score.
It was about the sixth inning that the Sheboygan team started the on-slaught. I think the final score was Sheboygan 12, Plymouth 1. We got blasted.
So much for the dream tournament. Chuckie had 2 hits out of 5 total team hits. Jack went 0-4 and I think he struck out 3 times.
You'd think that Bucky would have been devastated but you have to put the game in perspective. My dad got to coach a special tournament game, manage his two sons exactly as he wanted and dream about what might have been. How special was that! You could observe that Bucky was trying to live life through his kids. Don't we all? It is part of the fun of being a dad.
If you get a chance to live out your dreams through your kids, do it. More important is that your kids live out their dreams. Make it fun for them.
Love,
Dad
My Grandpa Jiggs and Grandma Helen moved to northern Wisconsin in the mid 1940's. Jiggs sold his soda pop business (Plymouth Spring Bottling) just after World War II because he was disgusted with shortages. They didn't have diet sodas yet and without abundant amounts of sugar, production of soda was limited.
Jiggs liked hunting and fishing. He bought "Wildwood Lodge" located on lake Namakagon near Cable and Hayward Wisconsin. There was a central lodge and 4-5 cabins that were rented out during the summer and fall hunting season. Money came from rentals and Jiggs would guide wealthy Chicago fisherman on "muskie expeditions". His son "Big Jerry" grew up with Jiggs and was part of the woodsy lifestyle.
Hayward, Wisconsin was the Muskie (formally called Muskelunge) Capital of the World. When we went to Hayward, there was a big ugly statue of a huge muskie jumping from the water chasing an airborne lure. I think the biggest muskie ever caught at that time was 73 inches long. I'm sure the record is longer now.
Now to Louie. Jiggs would fish a lot on Lake Namakagon. One day he was fishing on the far side of the lake opposite Wildwood Lodge along the shoreline into heavy weeds and dead logs. As the story goes, he thought he had hooked a log and after working the line for a while, the log under the water began to be drawn to the boat. If it was a log, Jiggs could draw it close to the boat and maybe save his lure. As he drew the log closer he became aware that it was a huge muskie fish. As the muskie got closer to the surface, he "came alive" and jumped from the water trying to shake the lure. He didn't. The battle between man and beast lasted for 30-40 minutes and finally Jiggs was able to begin reeling the tired muskie towards the boat. Allegedly, the fish got along side the boat and was docile from exhaustion. Jiggs grabbed the large gaff hook from the boat and was about to jam it into the lower jaw of the fish and then pull him into the boat. As he reached the gaff hook into the water, the muskie made one last lunge into the air, he threw the lure and was gone. Exhausted by the battle, Jiggs could only lament about the one that got away.
Jiggs named the muskie "Louie" and began a life long quest to catch Louie. Jiggs would describe the size of Louie and I think in his own mind, Louie was close to the size of the worlds greatest muskie registered in Hayward, Wisconsin.
I don't know if Louie really existed. Sometimes I thought it was a story to get a kid's imagination going. Then there are times I believed that Jiggs really thought if he could again hook Louie, he might just gain some special place in the the "Fishermans Hall of Fame". What Louie's story did do was make every fishing trip exciting because there was always the prospect of something very special happening.
I know muskies live a long time and get very long and large as they age. For all I know, Louie is still in Lake Namakagon and if you ventured to that lake, you too might have a shot at fame.
Dreams can be special things. If you have a "Louie" in you life, never give up on him. You may catch him someday. It is the fun part of living.
Love,
Dad
As a kid, Myrna (Grandma) would take me along to this funny sounding town in southeast Wisconsin called Mukwonago. Strangers have a tough time pronouncing the town correctly. Myrna's Mother and Dad had an 80 acre farm near Mukwonago. I remember driving through a field on a road with two ruts for the tires with grass between the ruts to get the farm house. I was probably 10-11 at the time so it was early 1950's. The farm house was old and needed repair and there was a "farm smell" that permeated the house. To a city kid, the smell was "yuk". Cooking was on an old wood stove. There was a porch on the front, a porch on the back and a porch on the side of the house.
Myrna had an older brother Bill residing near Mukwonago with his own farm and at the time, pretty successful. Myrna had a younger brother living with her Mother and Dad named Everitt. He was slightly younger than Myrna and had a degenerative disease.
Everitt was born December 16, 1903 in Mukwonago. His full name was John Everitt Roberts and he had a normal childhood living on the farm. I don't know when Everitt died, but it had to be in the 1950's. According to Myrna, when Everitt was around 19 years old, he began to experience hand tremors and some slurred speech. It got progressively worse and was diagnosed as Parkinsons disease. There is no cure! I think movie star Michael J. Fox has Parkinson's.
By the time I was introduced to Everitt, his arm and head shook steadily as the result of the constant tremors and he lost muscle control. He slurred words and was hard to understand. Because I was 10 years old, Everitt was scary to be around because I didn't understand the disease. He always wore a short front brimmed hat.
Myrna as she got older, had a little palsy in her hands. In fact, she didn't have to mix sugar and milk in her coffee because her shaking hands would do it for her as she carried it to the table. There was always this question about some heredity to Parkinson's but the medical experts say there is no link. Myrna's shakes were not tremors, just a loss of some motors skill.
So I went to the medical periodicals and found the greatest reassurance of all time, "genetics doesn't appear to play a major role in Parkinson's although it tends to occur in some families". What the hell does that mean? Talk about "double-speak".
I wish I could go back and visit Everitt today knowing what I have learned over time. I would treat him warmly and respect what was happening to him. He would no longer be "scary".
So Grasshoppers, if your body begins to tremble out of control, maybe something exciting is happening or maybe you should pay heed. There is some family history of similar occurance.
My purpose with this blog is to benchmark family medical history not to scare anyone.
May your days be healthy and rewarding.
Love,
Dad
Your mom and I spent several years living with Grandpa George and Nana. I'm sure there were many tense moments but somehow everybody survived and everything turned out okay.
Grandpa George got to spend Sunday afternoons putting up with me and the Green Bay Packers. One uneventful afternoon we decided to go bowling and I'm sure I told him I'd whip his butt. He wasn't used to such banter, but it didn't take long before he was going to teach his bragging son-in-law a lesson.
Grandpa was strong with large hands. He threw a straight ball that sometimes backed up on the alley. Needless to say, he was inconsistent and I did whip his butt. He saw the hook ball that I threw and how it blew pins out if I got near the pocket. He began to ask questions about how to bend the bowling ball. I showed him how to pick a spot on the alley and lift the ball as his hand came out of the drilled holes. It was amazing because he picked up the lifting idea really fast and when he began to hit the right spot on the alley, it would blast the ten pins back into the pit. With his strength, speed and lift it was exciting to watch. Eventually he started throwing consecutive strikes and 200 games were common.
George had never been a big fan of bowling but now it became fun. Plymouth Sheet and Metal began sponsoring a team in a league at Casey Jones Lanes in Plymouth and for 5-6 years they had a hard throwing, beer drinking team of bowlers. I know they won several championships and celebrated with year end parties. George talked most about stringing lots of strikes together. I don't remember his average per game but there were lots of 200's in league.
Bowling gave George and I a common ground and it was a source of constant banter. For a little while, a few special years, George could bowl against anyone.
I do remember George's first few "hooking strikes". At first he was amazed at being able to power the pins out. Later he began to expect it. I remember thinking to myself "by golly, I think he's got it".
Christopher knows how to throw a hook and blast pins and son Collin is working on it. They bowl Saturdays in a father-son league.
So the magic continues. For Grandpa, it was never to late to learn a new technique. For Christopher, it was learning technique early. For Collin, he will beat his Dad someday.
And for me, on any day, any place I can or could whip all their asses!
My lesson for today would be that sometimes the most precious things in life cost very little. It is amazing what a hooking bowling ball can do.
Love,
Dad
It is interesting how smells identify certain periods of my life. The smell of hot, humid August mornings remind me of 3-4 years of working in the fields for Stokely Van Camp canning company "weeding beets". You had to be 12 years old. I'd like to say it was a voluntary thing, but my mom said "you will work". She controlled the environment. She kicked my ass out of bed, made me a fabulous brown bag lunch (remember she was German) and she filled a gallon thermos with lemonade or kool-aid. I think we left the local factory to go the the selected fields by covered truck at 7:00 AM.
Stokely contracted with farmers to grow beets and the only way to insure a healthy crop was to have "slave 12-15 year old kids" pick the weeds away from the healthy plants early in the growth cycle. So here I was, out in the hot sun, picking weeds from beet plants for 6-8 hours a day. You learned to wear long sleeve shirts and straw hats.
We were paid by the row. Each row of beets was given a value and when we finished a row, we punched a card and at the end of the week were paid accordingly. My recollection is that we made $5-7 per day or $35 per week. It doesn't sound like a lot, but in today's dollars it is probably equivalent to $125 to $150 a week.
Actually my parents were very cunning. First, by working I couldn't get into any trouble. Second, I was earning money which took the pressure off them to provide discretionary spending. Third, it was a great way to teach a work ethic and finally, they knew where I was.
The money was great. I was a saver but I would always keep money to spend. Cokes, potato chips, brats at Uncle Ottos, french fies at the Sunnyside Restaurant, movies, and comic books. No girls yet!
One side story. My first experience in financial management came into play. The man that managed our crew was a nice gentleman named Otto Baer. He could not read or write. So when the crews were in the fields, he would ask me questions about how to fill out required forms and eventually I took over all punching and accounting of row management. I decided that if I was going to do Otto's job, I should be paid additional. I remember meeting with with the General Manager of the Stokely plant and making my case for more money. I think he patted me on the head and said that I was a "good boy". No more money! Bastard! I guess I could have stopped helping Otto but he was such a nice man. So as with all my jobs in life, I was underpaid.
I watch kids sit around all summer with nothing to do except play video games, go to soccer and baseball occasionally and complain about being bored. Maybe teaching a good work ethic should be the goal.
Now ask me if I forced my kids to work in the summer! I admit I did a poor job of creating the environment where the kids knew they had to work and earn money. I wish I could go back and do that again.
The beet weeding "gig" led to working inside the Stokely factory when I turned 16. Then my pay went to $1.06 per hour. Pretty spectacular, huh!
So when I step out of my car at 7:00 AM to walk each day on hot humid mornings, it smells like "beet weeding" days. It is a good smell.
The lesson Grasshoppers is "teach your kids a strong work ethic". It will help them navigate life travails.
Love,
Dad
Your mom and I got to spend a day at the Dells with favorite daughter Kelly along with Grant and Mitchell. Kelly rented a condo for the week and it is located right on Lake Delton. It is August and perfect lake weather.
As I sat on the second story balcony watching all the tourists enjoying the lake with their jet skis, pontoon boats, fishing boats, speed boats, and ski boats, it reminded me of Crystal Lake on holiday weekends. Memorial Day, the 4th of July and Labor Day were particularly memorable. All the amateurs come out.
I think you are supposed to go around the smaller lakes in a counter-clockwise direction. Not at Lake Delton.
You are supposed to veer right as you approach an oncoming boat. I don't think they know that at Lake Delton. There were lots of jet skis playing chicken!
You are supposed to give any craft that you pass at least 50 feet of room. Not at Lake Delton.
Then in all this madness, you get a couple of guys that think they can drop anchor and "fish". What fish in their right mind would bite surrounded by all the chaos?
I think you have to be 12 years old to drive any craft. Not at Lake Delton.
And then my absolute favorite, someone decides to swim in the area of the boat traffic lanes. Of course their tiny heads with the "pea brains" will be seen by a boat doing 50 mph.
Actually all this disorganized action was very entertaining and I don't think anybody got hurt. As the water sloshed against the shoreline, for a brief moment, I thought I missed the insanity.
And then it was time to leave the water-side bungalow. I remembered why Crystal Lake Advancement Association imposed a 35 mph speed limit, continued to prohibit speed boats on Sunday and have steady patrols by the Sheboygan Sheriff Department. It is because when people go in the the water, they go NUTS!
The Dells was a fun trip. A special thanks to Kelly, Grant and Mitchell for entaining boring Grandparents for a day.
Love,
Dad
Prior to this existing heat wave, we had some great weather and it was nice to sleep with the windows open. If you listen real close during the night, you can hear freight trains rolling through the "Fox River Valley". There is a low rumble from the diesels and of course the whistles as they near intersections.
The City Club was 2-3 blocks from the Plymouth train station. Plymouth was a stop for trains running between Milwaukee and Green Bay. There were both passenger and freight trains. In the 1940's, all trains were steam engines. In addition to the rolling engine sounds, there was a smell that permeated the air from steam and burning coal for the engines. There was one engine that stayed near Plymouth and switched cars for the Borden Cheese company and the local Stokely Foods. A lot of switching of empty cars and loaded cars happened at night. There was no air conditioning at the City Club (and bedroom windows were always open) so that you could hear the engines during the evening hours moving back and forth on the local tracks. The silent summer nights made the trains seem like they were across the street.
The different crews that manned the trains would walk down the hill from the station to the City Club for nurishment. My Grandpa Chalk got to know the local train engineers and he got an invitation for himself and his oldest grandchild (me) to ride the local steam engine one morning as it did it's switching of cars for businesses. I remember how high the engine was as we got up into the cab. "Firemen" were constantly shoveling coal into the firebox of the engine to get heat to change water to steam. The heat in the cab was intense. And then after all the steam pressure had built up, they would release the lever that moved the steam to pistons on the wheels. The surge of steam made the wheels spin wildly and then slowly, very slowly, the engine began to move. Chalk and I probably spent a couple of hours moving freight cars around and I remember stopping on the tressel that overlooked the main street of Plymouth (actually Mill Street). The street looked different from high up in the engine.
The best memory however was when troops from World War II would take the train from Milwaukee to come home to Plymouth. We sould stand on the station platform and watch for the light of the engine to round the bend 2-3 miles to the south and work its way to the main station and stop. There was excitement everywhere as friends and loved ones looked for that special serviceman. There was always a funny sensation as the trains arrived along the platform where we were standing. You weren't sure whether you were moving or the train was moving.
So every night as I hear trains moving through the area, it brings back good memories. And a special thank you to my Grandpa Chalk who died way too early. He made a little kids heart pump a little faster.
The lesson! Do things with your kids now while they are young. Create good memories.
Love,
Dad