We just can't skate through life anymore

Joe Scarborough on MSNBC has talked about the increased stress that accompanies doing day to day things.
 
This is a time of spring that one can get a little crotchety. Lifelong Minnesotans ought to be prepared for this, heaven knows. But it's still hard. We get teased in early April by pleasant, refreshing weather. Such a relief after the long winter. We ought to know full well that chilly temps are still in the offing. We'll get some gray, cool days that don't suggest we're on the threshold of summer.
Today (Tuesday) is such a day. So maybe it's a day to vent some re. some of the other frustrations in life. How about the snowplows that leave a big ridge on the end of your driveway? We must surely appreciate the plows. Our last big snowfall of this winter/spring was of the very heavy and wet kind. Snow never sticks around long in April. So I walked downtown and back, absolutely no big deal. On the way downtown, snow removal hadn't proceeded very far. So I was forced out onto the street in some places.
So, coming home, after dining at Detoy's, it seemed practical to take the highway route. The shoulder was somewhat restricted because of snow accumulation. But I was on the proper side, facing traffic, as pedestrians should. It was an unusual day. I had to answer to a cop who pulled over. "Where are you going?" he shouted. I thought he could have prefaced this by saying "excuse me, sir." It is harder to escape the attention of police these days. It's concerning because police are making the news so much for shooting and killing people. Sometimes they shoot people in the back. It is so hard holding police officers accountable. Any excuse about feeling threatened seems to get believed.
Could we ever get a controversial officer-involved shooting here in Morris? We can never rule this out. We can never assume that certain bad things only happen "somewhere else." "Oh, not here in Morris." However, the scandal of misbehaving Catholic priests did in fact come to Morris. We can't rule anything out.
So, I walked over to the cop and told him I was going home.
I remember a UMM professor many years ago, name of Peterfi, who as I recall once lived in Communist-controlled Europe and he said we Americans should appreciate living in a place where "no one asks you where you're going."
I pointed up to Northridge Drive and said that's where my home was, because I guess the cop needed to know. At this point he seemed less agitated and he said "I was just concerned about your safety." Yes, cops get concerned about us all the time.
 
Adjusted lifestyle
One thing I will never do again is go jogging after dark. I did this in the 1980s, quite a bit in fact. In fact, it might be relatively late at night, which I found agreeable because of less motor vehicle traffic. I found it peaceful. Today I'm 64 years old and unsure if I should even revive my old pastime. It would be with fewer miles to be sure. But given the complexion of things today, with the cops so hyper nervous all over the place - not the way it was before - I would rule out doing any running after dark.
I'm wondering if it's best to just stay inside after dark, period, but what about events like music concerts where I'd be coming home after dark? It would be sad to rule out attending such events. This would include sports events although I have lost interest in that. We do have to circulate some after dark. But it appears we are in a new age in which we always have to explain ourselves to police.
In general it is much harder to just glide through life these days.
 
Reaction to the new order
The election of faux populist Donald Trump has been attributed to a pushback against the new complexities. Joe Scarborough on TV has talked about the nature of the daily frustrations we might face. "Everything is hard," Scarborough said. "You go to the Post Office and it's hard." Yes indeed. One day I went to the Morris Post Office to routinely mail a small package when I was startled by the new process. I was asked if I "wanted insurance." Huh? What's this all about? I said "well, I'm only sending this package to Starbuck and I'm sure you guys can handle it."
Of course, the Post Office people, poor souls, were just required to go through a new more complicated process, and to ensure their compliance, the system sends out "secret shoppers." Heavens. I think "secret shoppers" are immoral.
I have learned now to just "roll with the punches" when I go to the Post Office. It is hard to go out and about in town and simply make routine purchases. Shopko tells me they don't accept checks. I realize it's a liquidation sale, but still, no checks? (Expletive)
So we're all pressured to start using "bank cards." So I finally broke down and got one. This was after one of the local banks told me they were out of $10 bills. Out of $10 bills? How can a bank be out of cash? If I can't get cash at the bank, where can I get it? I live alone and I use $10 bills a lot. Well I broke down and ordered a check card. Then I learned that a prime restaurant in town has a "minimum payment" for a card, of $10. My average breakfast comes to about $8.70 although given the price increases for food of late, we may meet the minimum soon. I think food price inflation is a bona fide concern. I asked if the tip can be figured into the minimum payment. She said "it can be." Huh? "It can be?" I suppose they don't want to turn customers away.
She told me something I didn't know: a place of business has to pay a little for running a check card through. Is there something in it for the banks to promote the system? That can create a hardship for the businesses. Not all local restaurants are going to set up a Go Fund Me page. I was a "holdout" who just wanted to keep using cash.
Then again, I'm old enough to remember when we left a tip in the form of coins, maybe even a quarter! Oh yes we did. The first time I felt obligated to leave a paper bill, it was rather a shock. It's an issue because there are often wet spots on the table. There is much current talk about how tipping should be phased out. It already feels like a throwback. There is no connection between tipping and quality of service. It's just a custom, having gotten started in The Great Depression. As people pay increasingly with plastic, it will seem unwieldy to carry around "cash" just for tipping.
 
Revelation at the Golden Arches
A few days ago, one of the basic burger/fries "value meals" at our McDonald's was over $10, for the first time that I have ever noticed. It came to $10.04. There is a first time for everything. $10.04 is an awkward charge if you're dealing in cash. But not if you're using a card. You see, one of the problems with plastic is that it can make it too easy to spend money. You're just not as conscious of what you're spending.
Maybe I'm still dealing with a little PTSD as the result of caring for my aging parents for so long. It was challenging and I regret that it's over. But it's over and I need to lighten up a little, I guess. Now, let's get on to some summer-like weather.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Remembering WWII times at Fergus Falls' Kirkbride

Fergus Falls does not let the Kirkbride slip into the past, at least not as far as logic might suggest. The Kirkbride is also called the old state hospital. "Kirkbride" is the original name and the one I prefer.
You cannot blame Fergus Falls for having the abandoned institution still close to their hearts. The building complex is spectacular in its appearance. It sits there now, frankly, as a decaying hulk.
We in Morris know how "re-use" efforts can turn out. We tried clinging to our old school complex for some time, even with the dream of an illusory "green community." The property is now being re-developed in the way that should have been drawn up at the start. We can remember the old school with pictures and stories.
Fergus Falls wrestles with wanting to preserve its historic structure. A sober mind seems to suggest this is futile. But I see this merely as an outsider. I was a kid who grew up equating Fergus Falls with the treatment of mentally ill people. As kids we were crude in expressing this association.
 

Image of Missy Hermes from Fergus Falls Daily Journal

Informative presentation at library
Memories of the Fergus Falls Kirkbride came to the fore again on Tuesday, April 23. Missy Hermes of the Otter Tail County Historical Society gave a presentation at the spectacular new Fergus Falls Public Library. She's the education coordinator for the Historical Society. She talked on "the State Hospital during World War II." A large conference room was pretty filled with the turnout, so once again we realized that the Kirkbride is an object of considerable interest.
Hermes began by noting that the last patient left the facility in 2007. There must have been overwhelming reasons for such a sprawling facility to be abandoned. I have often heard that new treatment approaches, particularly the "community-based model," were taking over. "Community-based" seems pretty vague. Most certainly the Kirkbride was a community for both the residents and the considerable number of staff. I have heard that "group home" settings were deemed more effective. But left behind was this spectacular structure called the Kirkbride, arguably the most noteworthy landmark in Fergus Falls.
But it is such a symbol of the past. Hermes noted that no interior tours are given any more. That's due to air quality concerns. Our Morris city manager Blaine Hill told me he got in while tours were still given, but he wondered if that was wise. The interior situation was probably bad news. The deterioration seemed to scream that "re-use" was not going to be a practical course. A school board member in Morris told me that a major hurdle for our old school was meeting current codes. I assume this to have been a major hurdle for the Kirkbride.
 

It looks like a grand castle

The building is now contentious matter
The Kirkbride calls for past tense references in my mind. There is unfortunate controversy in Fergus Falls over the building's fate. I guess a city administrator has lost his job over it. I assume many descendants of old hospital employees reside in Fergus Falls and feel emotions. I imagine it can be difficult working in the Fergus Falls media, walking a tightrope as it were.
The history of the institution goes back to 1890. It was built to alleviate congestion with these services. We heard terms like "insane" and "lunatics" in the early days. Hermes told us the peak year for patients was 1937 with 2,078. The world was steadily hurtling toward WWII.
How ambitious was the Kirkbride? It encompassed a farm, dairy and orchards! Hermes told us about the weekly newsletter that circulated within the institution: "The Weekly Pulse." She passed around copies of some pages. The newsletter is a prime resource for appreciating the history of the institution and the broader history of what was happening to our country. It began publishing in 1933.
WWII forced adjustments on all public institutions with the Kirkbride certainly being no exception, Hermes said. She listed some of the effects: little cotton available for sheets, limited soaps, limited ice cream. Security safeguards were implemented. The power plant was forbidden to guests. Garages had to be watched as "people were stealing tires." The city had blackout drills. All staff took an oath to assure they were "loyal to our form of government." Hermes reported a patient population of 1,829 at the time the U.S. was on the cusp of war in 1940. And this population, she pointed out, had considerable aliens from diverse places. The people were fingerprinted and probed for possible criminal background.
The shortages of various items during the war could be pervasive, Hermes said. "Deliveries of new books were suspended for the library." The year 1943 saw two meatless days each week. Right after Pearl Harbor there was a drop-off in visitors due to gas rationing. The institution always had a display at the Minnesota State Fair but in '45 the Fair was cancelled.
 
Post-traumatic stress disorder
We didn't hear as much about PTSD as we do today. The Kirkbride got some patients in this category while WWII was on. You can imagine that the symptoms were as common then as when the condition became better understood and terminology developed. Yes the Kirkbride operated during less enlightened times. And in spite of the shortcomings which could be substantial, the philosophy was to be as helpful as possible, as humane as possible. It was yeoman's work.
WWII veterans are a diminishing circle today. Many of them have carried signs of PTSD through their lives. It was not seen through the most understanding lens in the years immediately following the brutal conflict. Common sense told us these souls could be troubled. On a clinical level the parameters weren't well established. It seems the Vietnam conflict made the term "PTSD" pretty standard for understanding.
WWII survivors to this day deal with anxiety, cognitive and somatic complaints, depression, alcohol dependence and amnestic periods. A pretty consistent patient profile has emerged. These people avoid reminders of war. They show an exaggerated startle response. Restless sleep and chronic anxiety are specters. It gets caricatured in movies like "First Blood."
The Fergus Falls State Hospital was on the front lines dealing with the condition when war tore apart the world. The fact that the U.S. "won" WWII, as opposed to Vietnam, was not a factor tamping down PTSD a whole lot. The sufferers could come away with "night terrors," heavy drinking, survivors' guilt, depression and profound sadness.
The Kirkbride was a haven for souls wrestling with such after-effects of conflict. Imprecise as the treatment might be, there was a determined air to help and understand.
The Kirkbride stands today like a huge inanimate "ghost" of salad days for the old way of approaching mental illness. I totally understand the fascination with history. And if re-use could tease us a little with potential, fine. Fergus Falls appears to have struggled to recognize simple reality.
 
Bonanza for photography, but. . .
You couldn't find a better subject for breathtaking photos than the Kirkbride. It's an illusion because the visual effect doesn't reflect at all the building's possibilities, and that's because those possibilities appear to be zero. So fine, we can cherish the memories. Books, pictures and stories can commemorate, and I'd be the first in line to appreciate all that. But I see no place for it in the community's future.
I have had some experiences with controversies in relatively small communities. Fergus Falls is bigger than Morris. But I recognize the dynamics. Some bad effects have come about in Fergus Falls. Otter Tail County Historical Society Executive Director Chris Schuelke acknowledges that the whole thing has gotten emotional. My goodness, there have been nearly 20 failed "redevelopment" efforts.
You need to see the Kirkbride complex to really appreciate its striking design. It was all mapped out long ago by Thomas Kirkbride, physician. The "Kirkbride model" was based on long narrow buildings with many windows to ensure good light and fresh air. The interconnected buildings stretch hundreds of feet on either side of the main tower. It's the most complete remaining Kirkbride hospital in the nation. The hospital at times employed more than 500 people. It was an economic engine for decades. Always we use the past tense.
An MPR article describes how the hospital structure "looms over the city of Fergus Falls." I visited the place for the first time last summer when an outdoor tour was given. We couldn't go inside. Schuelke spoke into a megaphone for this interesting tour. There was a $6 charge which was not announced in advance in the newspaper, which irritated me. But it was nice getting a close look at this decaying facility which in my youth, to be frank, was fodder for considerable playground teasing. Fergus Falls as a community seemed stigmatized in my mind, unwarranted of course because the community has always been lively and vibrant in all respects. But if you were a kid in western Minnesota in the 1960s, you'd hear regular teasing about how "they're going to send you to Fergus." It was just reality. Finally last year, I got to see first-hand the place that was the source for that unfortunate language.
Fergus Falls has wrestled for a decade on what to do now. Oh my, neighbor turned against neighbor, I guess. The dispute has swung local elections. Time seems to be running out now.
 
Flippant, I guess
An advocacy group for preservation has commented on how maybe a "white knight" will come along. That rings a bell for me. I remember the re-use committee for our old school building in Morris. A committee spokesman said in a meeting with city officials: "We're hoping somebody wins the lottery and buys it." I am not amused. This and the "white knight" comment are cute in a misplaced way, flippant. These are serious matters. There is no point believing in unicorns.
Let me conclude by saying the new Fergus Falls Public Library is state of the art. It's worth a visit to the community to see it. I wish the community of Fergus Falls luck, but I know from experience the toll that a dispute such as this can take. We had a conflict in Morris in the late 1980s that centered on our school and its teachers union.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

One year of being together in heaven

T-shirts for UMM Retirees Association.

The calendar moves ahead with one generation receding and another entering its prime. It's the natural order of things.
It was a year ago today (Wednesday) that Martha H. Williams departed for heaven. She grew up in the "company town" of Brainerd MN. The railroad was king there. Martha's father Andrew Ohlson owed his living to the rails. He and wife Hilda began their family of three children when Andrew was at a pretty advanced age for this.
Martha's own husband was eight years older than her. Her husband was Ralph Williams who taught music and was the acclaimed choir director at the high school in Brainerd. Washington High School it was called. The high school choir won high awards. I never asked my parents to what extent their relationship started when Mom was still in high school. That would be a logical area of inquiry.
World War Two came along and swept my father to the Pacific where he was a lieutenant, in charge of a crew guarding a merchant ship, a "tanker" as Dad described it. Toward war's end he got assigned to the USS Appalachian. We got invited to reunions of that crew through the years but did not attend. Dad seemed to want to detach himself from war memories, though he was never averse to sharing his basic background. I personally wish he had gotten involved in organizations like the VFW and American Legion.
He and other officers visited the Japanese mainland shortly after the end of hostilities. He witnessed stark desolation. The relentless firebombing had wreaked havoc. He painted a picture of the Japanese people being totally submissive and humble at that point. The movie about Douglas MacArthur showed us how Japan was re-formed with progressive ideas. Gregory Peck as MacArthur talked about allowing women to vote and encouraging labor unions.
 
Lifelong bond to the 'U'
Dad came home after the war and reaffirmed his ties to the University of Minnesota. He had gotten his undergraduate degree at the U. The 1950s saw him teach at the U of M St. Paul School of Agriculture. I have memories of preschool age from when Dad was in that phase. Yes there was a pre-Morris phase in the story of the Williams family. But Morris completely took over starting in 1960. That was with the launch of our U of M-Morris. So invested did our family become, Dad arranged for cemetery plots at our Summit Cemetery.

The joy of raking leaves: Northridge Drive, Morris

I personally am very cool about associating with the cemetery. Society is rapidly changing its attitudes about funerals and cemeteries.
Up until Dad's death six years ago, such things as funerals and cemeteries were taboo for discussion in our family. We couldn't imagine a world in which any of us departed. We had some experience with losing family pets. That was hard enough to deal with. We had lost "Misty" our German Schnauzer and "Heidi" our Lhasa Apso. Misty had health problems at about nine years of age, and Heidi lived to over 16. Our third dog was Sandy and he was alive through the end of my father's life. He was clearly Dad's dog or "Daddy's Doggie" as we'd call him (but never around company). Sandy was half American Eskimo and half poodle. He probably had the most personality of our three dogs but we loved them all equally.
The death of pets does not provide adequate conditioning for the arrival of other deaths.
Both my parents were blessed by the miracles of modern medical science. On the other side of that coin were the challenges and difficulties of getting very up in years. Mom and Dad both got past 90 years of age. Age created hurdles for both. They kept their awareness of the world around them and could enjoy life. Mom spent a short time in a nursing home in recovery from pneumonia. I find little joy in nursing homes. The people who work there do yeoman's work, no doubt. But it's impossible to deal successfully with every bump in the road that the residents come upon. New complications can surprise you.
 

Would you believe he once raced a float plane taking off?

Remembering the challenges
Mom has been gone exactly one year. I think caregivers like me can look back and wonder how we might have done things better, but we fall into the fallacy of thinking we could have anticipated every new wrinkle or complication seamlessly. No that's impossible. We must resist the hindsight.
I made sure Mom got help for organ prolapse. She had a couple UTIs which may have been related to that. I didn't realize at first that UTI can affect one's mental state.
I made sure Mom got hearing aids. I realized those were working one day when we were in the car together: I muttered something softly and she answered! Mom herself was too stubborn holding off on getting a mammogram. Without me getting assertive, it would never have happened. Finally it had to be done. Mammograms are clouded in some dispute these days, when and how often etc. Cancer treatment in general seems subject to debate: when to intervene and how aggressively.
Mom had to be rushed twice to St. Cloud Hospital for heart issues. I commend our SCMC on all such occasions. I'm sure I developed a reputation as a "helicopter" family member whenever I took my parents for needed attention. At the nursing home the staff decided I shouldn't be in the dining room. I had been freaking out because of Mom being reluctant to take her pills. Even in applesauce it was no routine thing. I'm sure that's a common problem.

What a car! In 1950

My task as caregiver had its own risk for me - I could be second-guessed. A friend told me a while back "you got through it."
If I live to be 100 I'll never forget the details of how Mom and I got through each day in the last couple years of her life. Dad was more manageable in spite of his obvious weaknesses. He dodged a health bullet in the 1980s when he got to Abbott-Northwestern just in time for a heart operation. He had been through a change of doctors. Had he stayed with his original doctor he would have died. Yes, God created us with frailties and challenges. We're indebted to Dr. Stock.
Mom had surgery for "adhesions" at SCMC. Thanks to Dr. Sam. It was Dr. Sam who helped to deal with her cancer also. I was put in a separate room and not allowed to even consult at the time of that. I guess the question was how aggressive to be with the surgery. Most certainly Mom would have been conservative.
It's impossible to second-guess anything now. Mom lived to age 93 and almost to 94, and Dad lived to 96. I regret that we followed through on any cemetery arrangements. I did this as sort of a default thing, figuring that my parents would not want to question tradition. I would have much preferred designating that money for memorial contributions. We did that anyway by recognizing the University of Minnesota Foundation. But we could have done more. And I might still do more. The U of M was everything to my family.
 

This was two years before your blog host was born

Dubious about cemetery, yes
My parents are most surely resting in peace. I resent our local cemetery because it is not handicapped accessible. I stopped out there Monday and wanted to shake my head. The whole effort out there seems pointless. It belongs in another age. It's not for the benefit of my parents who are in heaven. If it's for me, I can pass.
My grandparents on Dad's side are buried at Glenwood Lutheran Cemetery. I was pleased to visit there on Christmas Eve Day, and to also attend the afternoon Christmas Eve service at Glenwood Lutheran, my grandparents' church, Martin and Carrie. It was also the church of my uncle Howard and his wife Vi.
Howard thought I was a wayward human being. I'm sorry about that. Maybe I'm God's punishment for Dad marrying one of his students.
 
Thanks to Del Sarlette for scanning the photos that appear with this post, and with the post on my companion site "I Love Morris."
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Dad as Navy Lt. at right in the Pacific, WWII

Dad with first hour music appreciation class in Brainerd.

Bill Freehan as author, second fiddle to Jim Bouton

Baseball was once like a make believe world to the young fans, overwhelmingly male, for whom it was important as a backdrop for growing up. Make believe? Maybe it was surreal. We wanted the players to fill an inner emotional need for us. We wanted them to be heroes. We wanted them to vanquish the opposition.
All of which is fine if viewed in context, in other words, if we have clarity about the players being part gladiator and part human being. It was the latter we had trouble grasping. So quickly we'd lose interest in a player when he could no longer produce. Our conscience might have suggested we care about all these guys. And in a cursory way, we did. But why were we following the game? It was to root for wins, to root for the ball flying over the fence. Or, for your team's pitcher to overwhelm opponents' bats.
The publishing world sensed the void re. our understanding of players as real people. Real multi-dimensional people who had the problems common to all humanity: money, fidelity in marriage, relational skills etc. Jim Brosnan wrote a book that was before its time. He was the forerunner as a fully literate person ready to share on the highs and lows of being a pro athlete. His book was called "The Long Season." It passed muster with the erudite types.

Society was not quite ready. Not that the book induced scandal, it was rather a case of society just wanting to stick with its comfortable template of athletes as cardboard figures. The book seemed mostly a curiosity. But the literary world definitely took note. With Brosnan having paved the way, we got in 1970 a flowering of an avant garde approach to sports journalism.
There was no aversion to scandal in connection to "Ball Four," the book by Jim Bouton. I took interest in this book to a fault. What I mean is that I took the new approach to heart too much. The book was not going to become the new standard, pushing aside the existing order as it were. But there was pressure in around the year 1970 to be avant garde in all things. American society was inspecting its navel. Maybe "you had to be there."
The pre-existing order was not as Neanderthal as we were pushed to think. That order was one of recognizing a certain set of values. Accuracy in information was in fact respected. With that pillar in place, the genre called for respect, whereas Bouton would have offered a sneering attitude.
Today we can take seriously the type of sports biographies I checked out of my elementary school library. Bouton sniffed at these books by noting that the subject merely answered questions into a tape recorder. So, such books might seem superficial. Given that the audience for many of these books could be described as "juvenile," I'm not concerned about any superficiality. Frankly my attitude is: whatever gets kids to read is great!
So, Bouton plowed through the norms of sports journalism to write what was called a "kiss and tell" book. So quaint, because the taboos of that time no longer exist. No inhibitions now.
"Ball Four" was diary-style, compiled through the 1969 summer. Bouton was basically a washed-up pitcher seeking to stick around with his knuckleball. His story reinforces the delicate nature of athletes' bodies, how fragile their careers can be. All players have their bodies fail them eventually. Rare is a player who walks away before misfortune afflicts him from a variety of directions. Star players can have an awkward decline. We might forget that Harmon Killebrew wore a Kansas City Royals uniform after he left our Twins. Clark Griffith of the Twins ownership said he couldn't bear seeing Harmon in that uniform. The movie "Pride of St. Louis" showed us Dizzy Dean playing with Tulsa, in "the bushes" as it were, after his heyday in the bigs.
 
Tigers catcher in the writing mix
Bill Freehan of the Detroit Tigers kept a diary in the 1969 season just like Bouton. Freehan's resulting book "Behind the Mask" ended up as a footnote compared to "Ball Four."
I have always felt that Bouton's success as author was in concert with Leonard Shecter who was a writing pro. Bouton was lucky. Playing for three different teams in 1969 including one in the minors - this made the book far more interesting than if he had stayed with the Seattle Pilots throughout. I have wondered if World Publishing actually had more than one player keep a diary in '69, the idea being to eventually go with the most interesting one. An aggressive publisher could get lots of juicy stories out of anyone who had spent several years in the big leagues.
Bouton did not disappoint.
I have always felt that Bouton was made permanently bitter by his sore arm. I always felt he'd be willing to trade his success as author for 3-4 more years in his pitching prime. My high school friend Joe LaFave wrote off "Ball four" by saying that Bouton was "bitter." I could never dismiss that. Let's not forget the Freehan book, although that would be easy. The full name of his book: "Behind the Mask: An Inside Baseball Diary."
Freehan presented the book as a nice clean story. A laudable aim, yes, but not one promoting optimal commercial success. It was edgy by the standards of the time. It was considered revelatory that Freehan's Detroit Tigers cut slack for star pitcher Denny McLain, allowing him to break rules. What? Slack being cut for an outstanding performer? Well, if you're Pollyannish that's a revelation. I yawn.
Freehan was judged by many to have violated the sanctity of the clubhouse. A few years later, no one could have cared at all about McLain whose arm lost its snap. Actually the guy put on a lot of weight too. (He eventually confessed to drinking a ridiculous amount of soda pop.)

Jim Bouton

My childhood was filled with star pitchers emerging for the various big league clubs whose careers could be shockingly meteoric. We're talking the frailties of the human body, the unnatural demands imposed on pitching arms. Baseball showed mercy years later with heavy emphasis on the "pitch count." Baseball had too much $ invested in pitchers to impose such risk.
McLain showed the other-worldly feat of winning 30 games in 1968. He was pretty sharp again in '69, after which his decline was underway.
Freehan as catcher dealt with the wear and tear of that position. He fought to overcome various injuries but he ended up with a fine career. He was intelligent and durable. He might have been the best catcher in the American League for a decade. That was a longer "reign" than Bouton had.
Us Twins fans ought to feel kindred with the Detroit Tigers crowd: our teams were above average through the '60s but each won just a single pennant. We lost the World Series in '65 while Detroit won the Series in '68.
Years later the Twins had a player try a diary style of book: Danny Thompson whose book was "E-6." (Title is based on attributing an error to the shortstop.) Thompson was a decent hitter but a spotty fielder at shortstop, a position where fielding is mighty important. We felt for Danny as he had health issues, a form of leukemia as I recall, but frankly his book was a dud. I was bored trying to get through it.
Bouton's book did not set a good example for me as I developed my "chops" as a writer. Freehan's book could have set a better example, but I don't recall ever seeing it for sale. I'm happy for his success.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Weather challenges our conception of school & sports

(MPR news image)

The futility of early-season spring sports wore on me through my years in the corporate media. There was a natural letdown anyway: going from the concluding stages of prep basketball with the packed gyms and atmosphere of near-pandemonium, to those yawner games in spring where a mere Gideon's band of fans shows up for a baseball/softball game in cool and/or windy conditions.
Why do we subject ourselves to this? The weather is just never ready. You consult a sports schedule online like for UMM and see "PPD" (for postponed) to the right of the early-season dates. College teams go south for tours but then upon arrival back, the weather seems not ready for some time.
Track and field is fortunate because these kids can travel to fieldhouse events. Still, the track kids don't have much flexibility when they are restricted to indoors for practice. I remember when I had a back-and-forth with a track and field parent once, about how I occasionally just used the term "track" rather than the full "track and field." This person's son/daughter was of course in the field events. I was put on the defensive, as can so often happen when you write about youth sports for the corporate media.
Today I'm so happy writing online-only because I can always correct or adjust something in response to a particular concern. With a newspaper you have the permanence of the printed page. Anyway, I tried explaining to the complaining parent that "track" was a shorthand I had used all my life. I felt it was an acceptable substitute on occasion for using the full "track and field." By no means was I seeking to diss the field events kids. Can you imagine a serious argument over such trivia?
The parent ought to have been understanding of my explanation. I tried putting it forth about three times, and in response to each, the parent kept saying "but the field events kids are important too." When I was in school, a friend might say "are you going out for track this spring?" Seemed perfectly acceptable.
Today if someone felt offended, I'd probably just call up a particular blog post and adjust in order to accommodate. You can't do that with print. Actually I do almost no writing about track (and field) these days because such information is hard to glean from an area newspaper like the one in Willmar. Track meets are reported as a sea of text about a particular "invite" where names of kids from a whole lot of schools are compiled. It's too hard to glean through all that and to report with certainty about all the MACA kids. Baseball/softball is far easier, as a particular article will report on only the two teams in action.
Look out the window now: how can we even consider having baseball or softball games? It's ridiculous. A plow had not even been through Northridge drive when I went to eat breakfast this morning. My vehicle is not 4-wheel drive and it was not easy getting to town. This afternoon I'll probably walk - no problem, but it seems an annoyance having to deal with these conditions in the middle of (expletive) April.
 
The tired routine of "two hours late"
At Detoy's I made out over the radio that an area school was struggling with having school today. There was the tired routine of at first announcing "two hours late." Sigh. Before I left the restaurant, school was called off there. And I guess the state is giving a complete pass for schools calling off school days to ensure the safety of the kids. Of course that's a necessary step, but don't the taxpayers pay for each and every day of school? And, for full sports seasons even if the weather sucks? Is a lot of our money simply going to go down a rathole, or might we get refund/rebate checks like when Ventura was guv?
Oh hell's bells, schools will plead that they need the money anyway! That's a tired routine, hearing from schools that they always need more money! If there's one thing that gets me to vote Republican - and that's a stretch - it's that this political party stands up to education's incessant demands for more money. The Democrats tend to have no spine re. this. Republicans will stand up to the teachers unions whereas Democrats behave like toadies, and for that I can feel actual hate toward Democrats. That's too bad. I am fundamentally a Democrat.
I think all the canceled school days due to weather are making us seriously think about the old assumption that kids need to be hauled to a bricks and mortar school every day. Why can't kids stay home more, or at least use their home as their home base for education? It needn't be "home schooling" per se. Parents could sign a waiver pledging that kids will be adequately supervised by at least one parent who would be home.
Many people nowadays are not working the traditional "jobs" of 9 to 5, Monday through Friday. Many people to be blunt are simply not working. Fine, let families be intact at home together. Kids actually develop their literacy by accessing the Internet - oh yes they do, just like I once built my literacy reading comic books.
School felt like prison to me. We had reading assignments that were supposed to have "depth" and teach us about social justice. So we read sad stories about how the common people get screwed all the time (e.g. by John Steinbeck).
My teachers would want to bash me over the head for suggesting we'd be better off reading simple Western fiction novels. In other words, just read a good story. Man, I can remember a couple teachers who'd want to slug me for saying that. There was an intelligentsia that drove me nuts.
So, why the necessity to require kids to go to a bricks and mortar school every day? Why such onerous requirements? I think it's a vestige of our old industrial age, where people were regimented and dehumanized so much. The digital world has pulled us out of that with mostly positive results although the change can be jarring.
Consider the horrific school van accident of last spring and its life-changing consequences. It is never a risk-free proposition to commute somewhere. And, to think the state requires it! Let's all wake up, please.
 
Addendum: Re. the school van accident, any new developments on that? We gathered as we consumed the news reports that the van driver was at fault, or the school more broadly for not ensuring that the passengers were belted in. The cost of medical treatment for the kids must be enormous. The money has to come from somewhere. I wonder how all that is being sorted out. I attended the Schlief family fundraiser - nice meal and nice socializing. Perhaps the media could be telling us a little more. I do know that back in the days when I drove the Morris newspaper van, if I were to total it and it was my fault, I'm certain I wouldn't be employed there much longer, and that's even if no one got hurt. A friend of mine who happens to be a lawyer says that "with government, it's different."
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

1960s Detroit Tigers infield was endearing

The Detroit Tigers of the 1960s had a decade very similar to our Minnesota Twins. For us of course it was our first decade, indelibly etched in our diamond memories. We weren't an expansion team though. We came here from Washington D.C. We came close to getting the Giants. Had that happened, Willie Mays' name would be hallowed here. And, Willie McCovey.
Now let's consider the Detroit Tigers. They were competitive through the '60s like our Twins. And like our Twinkies, they won a single pennant in the decade. They had the distinction, unlike our Twinkies, of winning the World Series. Our loss to the Dodgers was a sore spot that lasted a long time.
Detroit's glory year of 1968 coincided with when the pitching phase of the game was at its peak. It was "the year of the pitcher," a state of affairs that big league movers and shakers had to do something about. The trend began previous to that. I believe it had something to do with umpires deciding to call the high fastball a strike. Legend has it that this was how Sandy Koufax turned the corner and became a superstar. Pitchers had everything figured out by 1968. Don Drysdale of the Dodgers went wild for a time.
The Tigers had their considerable pitching assets on their way to No. 1. One exhibit is Denny McLain, a curiosity as a baseball personality. McLain reached 30 wins on the pitching rubber, phenomenal. He was a curiosity because you couldn't trust him further than you could throw a piano. It is a matter of public record that he was a criminal. It is highly unusual for a young man with the drive to reach the big leagues to also have a criminal inclination. McLain was that rare exception.
The other Detroit pitching mainstay was Mickey Lolich who had his own reputation, let's emphasize benign. Lolich had a reputation of being fat or overweight. This was when our standards for judging this were much tighter. John Lennon seemed to be affected when a writer called him the "fat Beatle." John Lennon! Seemed like a pretty ordinary physique to me.
We think nothing today of people being a little thick around the middle, doesn't even prompt comments or private thoughts. My youth and young adult years were much different. Tight-fitting clothes were in fashion like in "Starsky and Hutch."
The baseball writer Jim Bouton noted Lolich's reputation for being allegedly overweight. Bouton noted how heckling was exemplified by "one man to a pair of pants our there." Bouton had a teammate with the 1969 Houston Astros, Fred Gladding, who had the "fat" reputation.
All this was unfortunate. You might say "cruel" but those guys could blow it off I'm sure. Below the surface they probably seethed with resentment. Lolich's pitching clearly spoke for itself.
The '60s were a time when player mobility was much less than today. Think of a particular team back then, and certain well-established personalities are readily recalled.
 
Memorable guys in infield
Ah, the Detroit Tigers' infield! We remember Don Wert as the third baseman. He was nicknamed "Coyote." His tenure with the Tigers was 1963 to 1970. He was named "Tiger of the Year" in 1965. That was the year our Minnesota Twins won the pennant. Never a great hitter, Wert made his mark largely with his glove. He even outdid the magician-like Brooks Robinson of the Orioles in '65. Wert was tenth in A.L. MVP voting. Our Zoilo Versalles got the honor as shortstop.

I wasn't aware until researching recently that Wert was involved in one of those notorious "beaning" incidents. The potential for this type of injury puts a cloud over baseball. As kid fans we never realized the very real dangers of playing the game. Fans young and old have trouble realizing, IMHO, the long-lasting consequences of many sports injuries. We must wonder if these sports are worth it.
Wert was beaned by Indians pitcher Hal Kurtz in June of 1968. It was a game in which Wert's teammate Jim Northrup hit two grand slams! The pitch shattered Wert's batting helmet. He was carried from the field on a stretcher and spent two nights in the hospital, my goodness. Is any game worth this? It is said Wert was never the same hitter after that. This isn't to say he didn't still have his moments, like in the concluding stages of Detroit's banner year of 1968.
For America it was a tragic time as we had gotten into the sinkhole of the Vietnam war. We tried enjoying our usual diversions like baseball as best we could.
Wert had the game-winning hit in the game that clinched the pennant. He also singled in Detroit's final run of the '68 World Series. The run was scored by Dick Tracewski, another of the fondly remembered Detroit names of the era and an always-confounding one for people seated at the typewriter, before Google.
July of '69 saw Wert start a triple play in a game attended by President Nixon in Washington D.C.
Wert and the notorious McLain were traded to the Washington Senators in October of 1970. Wert was released in June of 1971.
 
You can't forget any of these guys
The rest of the Detroit Tigers infield is etched in my memory like Dick McAuliffe at shortstop. He is etched with his unconventional batting stance. The stance is hard to describe so let's just say it was oddball. However, all unconventional batting stances, like Carl Yastrzemski's, are misleading because they're really just cosmetic, or maybe they reflect superstition by the batter. That's because, at the instant the pitch comes in, the batter assumes the normal textbook position.
McAuliffe was an infield mainstay for those Tigers from 1960 to '73, quite the tenure. He led the American League in runs scored in the Tigers' apex year of '68. His bat resonated with 50 extra-base hits. He tied a major league record by not grounding into a double play all season. He was seventh in MVP voting. He socked a homer in he '68 World Series. He was traded to Boston in October of '73.
Lets' move to second base where the name I remember best is Jerry Lumpe. How can a name like "Lumpy" not be endearing? He already had a fair resume when he joined the Detroit crew. He was named to the 1964 All-Star team as a Tiger.
The unforgettable Norm Cash held down first base for the 1960s Tigers. He had the incredibly anomalous batting average of .361 in 1961. You'll note that '61 was when Roger Maris of the Yankees had his anomalous homer total of 61. Hmmm. Something was going on that season and it involved more than pitching being watered down by expansion, IMHO.
I remember Cash as one of those players just a notch below Hall of Fame caliber. A writer once suggested there be a special honor category for these guys: "Long and meritorious service." Cash was a clubhouse character. Unfortunately he battled an alcohol problem. He violated curfew rules. While never again reaching the heights he reached in '61, he was tremendously consistent, being a power merchant.
He had a very slow start in the team's banner '68 campaign, but he got hot late. He hit a three-run home run in September that gave McLain his 30th pitching win, a milestone that seemed unheard of. He homered to back Lolich in the fat guy's Game 2 World Series win. He sparked a Detroit rally with a single off Bob Gibson that led to the Game 7 win. The end of Cash's life came in a tragic drowning on Lake Michigan. The legend of Norm Cash lives on.
Yes, it was a storied infield for Detroit in the days of that city's prominence with carmaking. Maybe the Tigers deserved to win more than one pennant. Well, I'd argue the same about our Minnesota Twins.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Remembering the Kansas City Athletics, 1955-1967

A snappy quality is nice for sports team nicknames. In Minnesota we have the urge tugging at us to say "Wolves" rather than "Timberwolves." We sometimes heard "Stars" in place of "North Stars," our old NHL hockey entry.
For hoops I wish we had re-instated the old nickname "Muskies" instead of "Timberwolves." "Muskies" was one of our old ABA teams in the days of that heady but unstable league, before media expansion made sports profits explode. Rather quaint, eh?
All this brings me to the subject of the old "Athletics" of baseball. So strong was the pull to be snappy, we now know that team as the "A's." What does "A's" mean, exactly? I would guess that the precise answer is that it is a shortened version of "Athletics."
At age 64 I can well remember when the Athletics were real. And I can well remember when that major league team was in Kansas City and not Oakland. Reflecting on the Kansas City Athletics, one remembers the gaudy appearance of the uniforms by the standards of that era. Jim Bouton in "Ball Four" touched on this, noting that his old Yankees uniform was beautiful by comparison, beautiful by its simplicity.
I rather liked the Athletics uniforms, seemed flashy and interesting. Bouton wrote that his old teammate Johnny Blanchard was embarrassed coming out of the dugout when he became an Athletics player. Bouton shook his head over "all the technicolor gingerbread" on the uniforms, but I thought this was a quite inflated criticism.
 
Competitively challenged
Naturally, it would have helped if the Athletics won more often. Isn't that always the key? The uniforms of any winning team become "cool." You wouldn't want to associate yourself with a losing team's uniform. And unfortunately for the old Kansas City franchise, they were dogged by a lack of competitiveness.
The Athletics were in the American League with our new Minnesota Twins in the 1960s. Baseball was incredibly fresh and exciting for us Minnesotans. We often saw a series with Kansas City as an opportunity to pick up wins. In my mind they had a doormat reputation. But I never disapproved of their uniforms.
Let's add about Blanchard that he goes down in baseball annals as the guy who'd be called on, in his Yankee days, to be Mickey Mantle's replacement when the great Mick was unable to play. We see Bruce McGill in the movie "61*" playing Yankee manager Ralph Houk and saying to Mantle "I can put Blanchard in."
The Yankees and Athletics had a close relationship for a long time, with K.C. almost looking like the top farm team to the storied pinstripe crew. We see this alluded to in "61*" as well. The Bob Cerv character says "if I don't start hitting the ball a long way, I'll be in Kansas City." We can easily forget that Roger Maris was a popular player in Kansas City before going to New York. One of the Maris children in "61*" is heard regretting that Dad wasn't still playing for Kansas City.

Kansas City might have seemed like a distant or even backwater place in the mid-20th Century. New York City seemed so dominant in our media and culture universe, by comparison. Today that would be a ridiculous interpretation. Remember though, that up until the late '50s, "a trip west" in baseball meant St. Louis! Kansas City seemed also in the hinterlands, as it were, and the claim to fame in that fine Midwestern city was being home to the most notable "Negro League" team. I have a hard time typing "Negro League." But let's acknowledge the historical record. The Kansas City Monarchs made their mark in the pre-integration days.
 
Big leagues come to K.C.
A page was turned in 1954. That's one year before yours truly was born. Arnold Johnson, a real estate mover and shaker from Chicago, came on the scene in Kansas City. He acquired the Philadelphia Athletics and moved them. Kansas City was giddy for a time, then realized that Johnson was motivated primarily by profit. No revelation there.
Johnson had connections with the suits involved with the Yankees. Wink, wink.
Johnson established his shiny new franchise in Blues Stadium which had been home to the Yankees' real top farm team, the Kansas City Blues. The Yankees moved their AAA team to Denver. Johnson sold Blues Stadium to Kansas City which then leased it back to him. The stadium got more than a facelift and so it got a new name, Municipal Stadium. Johnson's association with the Yankee fellows became like a cloud or a distraction.
Would the Athletics be like a continuation of the Blues, a source of talent for the pinstripe crew? A "pipeline" in fact developed. The most infamous example was Maris going from K.C. to New York, a young man destined to break Babe Ruth's home run record. The chase of the record was the whole plot for "61*" although I'd argue it was fundamentally a story about family and values. We see Mickey Mantle as a good guy but with some moral shortcomings.
Maris had been an all-star with Kansas City in 1959. Other important players went from Kansas City to New York. The fabled 1961 Yankees in fact had ten former Athletics on the roster. Fans got discouraged seeing so much young talent leave the K.C. roster and get funneled in the pipeline to NYC.

The Athletics finished last or next to last in every season of the Johnson era. Attendance reflected the pattern. The struggles surely didn't help when the heat became oppressive in mid-summer. Bouton in "Ball Four" wrote "Kansas City gets hot like few places get hot."
Rumors were rife that Johnson might take the team to the West Coast. Alas, Johnson passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage in 1960, only 53 years old.
 
Outsized personality comes on the scene
The next chapter of team history can be labeled with a single man: Charles O.Finley. Enough said? The man's reputation precedes him, even all these years later, I suspect. He was a notorious personality. He had been an insurance executive.
"Larger than life" might describe. Also: "maddening and brilliant." Tickets to the Beatles concert in K.C. had Finley's name on them.
We didn't get the "A's" name abbreviation until 1963. I recall that for a long time the names were interchangeable. Ultimately the human inclination toward simplicity tipped the scale toward "A's." Did we even hear the name "Athletics" in the movie "Moneyball" with Brad Pitt, based on the modern day with the A's playing in Oakland? I don't think so. In my mind they will always be the Athletics as well as the A's. What's an "A?"
Finley could be outrageous with some of his comments, sort of a predecessor perhaps to Donald Trump. His pledges of devotion to Kansas City were contradicted by efforts at shopping the team around. Ah, businessmen. He threatened to move the team to a cow pasture outside of Peculiar MO.
Finley incorporated some oddball innovations to how big league ball could be packaged, e.g. a mechanical rabbit running on a track to bring balls to the home plate umpire.
Jack Kralick of my Minnesota Twins threw a no-hitter against the Athletics in 1962. The Twins' best player in '62 was arguably Vic Power, not Harmon Killebrew, and Power had the Athletics in his background.
The Athletics languished with their performance on the field, sadly. History should emphasize that the Athletics were blessed by having the great Rocky Colavito play for them in '64. He delivered fine for them. In '65 we could see that a promising nucleus of young players was forming in K.C. Land. "Catfish" Hunter came on the scene.
 
Endearing personality: Satchel Paige
God bless Finley for planning a most special and sentimental "Satchel Paige Day." Paige who was age 59 even started the game on the mound. Finley asked Paige if he could pitch three innings. Paige responded "that depends. How many times a day?" Author Bouton recalled with amusement how Paige described some of his pitches. Like, "bat dodger."
Kansas City improved its caliber of play in 1966 and '67. But alas, '67 would prove to be the last season for the Kansas City Athletics or A's. Their lifespan was from 1955 to '67.
The memory of Finley today is a mixed bag. It's like Minnesotans remembering Jesse Ventura or maybe Garrison Keillor. Surely these guys were "in the arena." Finley hired the first female broadcaster. He introduced ball girls to sit along the outfield foul lines.
Today the Kansas City baseball scene is all about the Royals, most understandably. In my mind the Athletics will always have their presence in connection to the great Midwestern city.
 
Satchel Paige on getting older: "Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it don't matter."
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com