Ch. 33 (A COOKIE for PUPPY GIRL) – Did Someone Say Waldorf Astoria^[1]

Mom’s health continued to deteriorate so I decided to have her accompany me on my final trip to New York city just prior to Christmas, and I am really glad I did. I had accumulated enough travel rewards to stay at the downtown Waldorf Astoria.  During the day, she visited hospitals with me and patiently sat in the waiting room, knitting a sweater for one of her grandchildren. One evening we attended ‘The Nutcracker’ at the Lincoln Center followed by a visit to Rockefeller Center to see the famous Christmas tree and on another we shared dinner at Tavern on the Green in Central Park but the highlight of her trip came rather unexpectedly.  On one of the days, I was unable to take her to the hospital because I was meeting with a client so mom and I enjoyed an early breakfast at the hotel together and I arranged (with the concierge) for lunch to be brought to her room midday. Again, recall that mom was often confused so I would leave notes all over the room reminding her when I would return and NOT to leave the hotel room but when I arrived back at the hotel around 5 pm, mom was nowhere to be found. I checked the entire hotel and was about to panic when the same concierge informed me that around 2 pm he saw mom heading out of the hotel onto Park Avenue (at 34^th Street) by herself. Thankfully, he caught up to her and she excitedly replied that she had always wanted to visit Macy’s Department Store, especially during the holiday season, so apparently, she was prepared to make the fifteen-block trip to Macys on her own. He quickly summoned the hotel’s limousine and assigned one of his assistants to accompany her on an extravagant shopping trip to Macys for the next couple of hours, reminiscent of the Hollywood movie, ‘Pretty Woman’.

In reflection, there were no cell phones at the time, so clearly, the concierge had made an incredibly caring decision to have someone ‘shadow’ her, and avert disaster for which I bestow him with the Cookie for Puppy Girl Lifetime Award.

I’ll never forget watching Mom pull up to the Hotel in a black, stretch limo moments later and entered the lobby, with a smile that lit up the room. That (JOYFUL) moment is how I choose to remember her forever.

_______________

^[1] Disclaimer: This excerpt and corresponding writing sample display some color but the actual book is in black and white.

Ch. 1 (A TURD in THE PICKLE JAR) – Autzen Stadium is My Happy Place^[1]

Not surprisingly, Eugene’s population would nearly double in September when the students returned to campus, just in time to support our struggling football team. However, that didn’t stop the fans from pouring into our recently constructed (1967) Autzen Stadium, just a short hike from campus across the Willamette River foot bridge. This bridge helped connect the numerous jogging trails in Alton Baker Park, and was inspired by our world-class Track & Field program as well as Nike co-founders and UO alumni, Bill Bowerman and Phil Knight who helped Eugene earn its nickname as ‘Track Town U.S.A’.

I was already a loyal UO football fan, having traveled to Eugene from my hometown of Roseburg, for countless games over the previous ten years. Roseburg was a small lumber-mill town and although it was located just an hour south of Eugene in distance, culturally, it might as well have been a million miles away. However, I consider myself fortunate to have been raised by highly educated parents and extended family who, in turn, emphasized education and provided a perspective on life that promoted diversity, equity and inclusion. In fact, Mom and Dad both graduated from renowned universities and both taught English literature in the local public school system.

Many of my fondest memories include loading up the family’s Buick station wagon, with side wood-panels, of course, and heading up to the games, where my older brother, Rick, and two older sisters, Paula and Heather, eventually attended UO. In fact, on a typical Saturday morning, my parents, my (much) younger sister, Pamela and I would arrive in the expansive parking lot, rain or shine, for a ‘pre-game’ celebration or what we called, at the time, a ‘tailgater’. Mom would always make at least a couple dozen sandwiches of all varieties, not knowing who, or how many people would show up, but somehow, they always seemed to get devoured on game day. To add to the festivities, there were always chips, especially Doritos, fruit, raw veggies, and home-baked cookies that were to-die-for. Of course, we also brought a football along and could usually get a game going between the parked cars.

As game time neared, we would head inside the stadium, and unlike nowadays, where all of the games are sold out with more than 65,000 fans, we would be lucky to have 15,000 fans, which meant we could sit wherever we chose and spread out. To add insult to injury, UO did not have a typical marching band as was customary among other schools, especially those visiting from the Midwest. Instead, we had a five-member rock band anchored in the middle of the half-empty, apathetic student section, complete with electric guitars and a drum set. Not surprisingly, they sounded dreadful, and certainly couldn’t play the University’s fight song as it was intended, but it really was reminiscent of the rebellious times we lived in during the 1960’s.

Occasionally, the team would fall hopelessly behind on the scoreboard, prompting fans to head for the exits by the middle of the third quarter, but we never, ever left a game early because Autzen Stadium was and still is ‘My Happy Place’. It remains our time-honored tradition, which has lasted more than sixty years to date, where our family and many of our friends, have come together to enjoy each other’s company several different times each Autumn. In fact, after Mom and Dad’s passing many years ago, I sprinkled some of their ashes in the northern corner of the east endzone, and it is my hope that my family will do the same for me when my time comes. Incidentally, for you UO Duck fans, that is right where Kenny Wheaton intercepted a pass from University of Washington and ‘took it to the house’ on the final play of the game that preserved the win, propelled the Ducks into the 1995 Rose Bowl for the first time in a generation and changed the football program’s trajectory forever. 

In reflection, that truly JOYOUS moment is bittersweet when I realize that it was the final game that we all attended together before my parents’ passing. However, more importantly, our family enjoyed countless games together for more than thirty years that kept us connected generationally, not only with each other as the family grew with in-laws, cousins, grandchildren and so on, but also served as the ideal stage to introduce friends and friends-of-friends at these time-honored tailgaters, because one thing for certain, everyone was always welcome, and Mom would always have a roast-beef sandwich to offer up.

 For years I tried to fully grasp why Autzen Stadium was ‘My Happy Place’ because I have visited some pretty amazing and inspiring places around the world over my lifetime. However, I finally came to the realization that it wasn’t the physical locale that evoked my overwhelming joy but rather the idea that we were all together as one cohesive and loving family. Contrast that to the typical Friday night growing up in our family home in Roseburg, on the night preceding the football game. Instead of coming straight home and spending time with us, playing tennis or just hanging out, Dad would stop at the tavern on old Hwy 99 for a beer and drink until he could barely drive home and stumble into the house. He chose ‘Colt 45’ a cheap, malt liquor known for its higher alcohol content because he could get drunk more quickly, and I believe the higher sugar (malt) content gave him an extra rush of adrenaline (energy). It should also be noted that Dad had served in Europe during World War II, hitting the beaches of Normandy on D-Day in 1944 and fighting all the way through northern Europe with General George Patton’s Third Infantry. He fought in five separate battle campaigns and took three separate German bullets in his ankle, shoulder and hand for which they awarded him Purple Hearts, patched him up and send him directly back to the extreme frontlines until we won the war in Europe (1945). Hundreds of his friends and fellow comrades died beside him in combat, and although the term had not been officially defined yet, Dad suffered from some of the worst PTSD effects imaginable. His nightmares were so bad that he would wake up most nights screaming and as children we were never allowed to come into our parents’ bedroom at night and we were never ever allowed to have anyone sleep-over. When he arrived at home, he would scream loudly into the phone for hours with a few of his closest friends from the war, amassing long-distance phone charges that were staggering, especially on a teacher’s meager salary. Then, when Mom would finally wrestle the phone away, he would play music on our Magnavox at full volume and he usually sobbed uncontrollably until Mom was finally able to get him into bed. It only happened on Friday nights, but it happened EVERY Friday night for years and years, accounting for my entire childhood until I left for college.

My point is that Dad was suffering from the horrors he had witnessed, and in some ways, he never really came home from World War II. His tortured soul never fully recovered as he relived nightmares, night after night with no way to escape.  I can’t imagine how Mom endured this version of hell, but I do know she certainly deserves sainthood for her understanding. In the meantime, I am so appreciative to present her with a Cookie for Puppy Girl Award^[2], posthumously, for keeping our family together and giving my siblings and I an otherwise wonderful childhood.

Yes, Dad could be a ‘son-of-a-bitch’ on those Friday nights, but I guess we all chose NOT to totally disregard his otherwise honorable qualities as a husband and father the rest of the time because of the atrocities of a war that he had no control over and dramatically affected him with PTSD forever. With that said, I now realize that after one of those typical Friday nights, we all got up Saturday morning, drove to Eugene and watched UO play a football game with thousands of enthusiastic fans joyously singing while the marching band played the school’s fight song, ‘Mighty Oregon’ (Perfect, 1915).

Instantly, we were a cohesive and loving family again, finding joy in each other as any lingering memories of the night before were erased from our mind, at least for that moment. Yes, Autzen Stadium was my happy place, or should I say ‘My Happy Escape’?

__________

Perfect, A.J. & Gilbert, D. (1915). “Mighty Oregon” [Song]. University of Oregon Marching Band [Recording].

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^[1] Disclaimer: This excerpt and corresponding writing sample display some color but the actual book is in black and white.

^[2] Inspired by and awarded to those special individuals who display kindness toward others without expecting anything in return. Note that this image uses color whereas the actual memoir is in black and white.