Marcus

 

The first time that I met him was back in 2013.  It was the first year that we were invited to the Duck practices.  We watched them scrimmage in the indoor facility and then took a few pictures with the team afterwards.  I got a great picture with him that is up on the wall today.

After the practice, we got to talk with the coach for a bit and then were invited over to Autzen stadium.  As we walked to the stadium, I noticed someone leaning against my car. 

It was Marcus.  He was waiting for us and stopped to shake hands with every veteran that had come along.  We were all quite impressed that the young man would take the time to stop and honor them.

The next spring was his senior year and we were outside for practice.  That was the year that he won the Heisman and played in the National championship.  After practice, I had herded the guys toward the facilities and was walking across the field deep in thought when I heard a voice:

“Nice Aloha shirt”

“Thanks and I play ukulele also”

“Well, I don’t”

“Yes, but I can’t throw a football but that doesn’t even make us even”

We both laughed and just stood there and chatted for a small time.  He thanked me for bringing the guys over and I wished him well for the coming year.

He graduated that year and I felt that I probably would never see him again. 

Then in 2016, we were invited to a practice scrimmage.  It was quite an honor as it was the first scrimmage that anyone outside of the Ducks themselves had been invited to.

We were brought into the stadium in carts and I stayed behind to ensure all went well and rode in the last cart with two of the Sheriffs that had brought us in their busses.  As we came into the field, I noticed two guys standing down in the end zone.  It was Marcus and Hronus Grasu (who was now playing for the Chicago Bears).  I asked to be dropped off there and walked over to them with the sheriffs.

After taking the picture, I talked with Marcus and congratulated him on his successes.  I pointed out the old veterans who were over sitting in the stands:

“Do you see all those old veterans over there?”

“Yes”

“They really enjoy watching you play football.  But there is something about you that they are impressed even more than that”

“And what is that?”

“Your character.  They still remember how you stopped and talked with them a few years back.  They see how you carry yourself.  How you remain humble.  That sort of thing means far more than how far you can throw a football.  Don’t you ever forget that”

“Yes, sir”

We shook hands and I joined the guys in the stand. 

As I look back on those times, I am sometimes overwhelmed at how blessed that I have been.  Most feel honored just to meet a legend such as he is in the Duck world.  I have actually been able to have conversations with him. 

Interactions that stay with you…..that you never forget.

Jimmy Johnson

 

When I would come into the diner in the morning, one of the first things that I would do was scope the floor.  I would be looking to insure that all had been seen and greeted, for people that I knew that I needed to greet, or for people that looked out of place.  Jimmy was in the latter. 

He was sitting at the counter hunched over his breakfast.  The first time that I saw him, I thought he was a driver.  The second day, I figured he was waiting for a load.  On the third day, however, I figured that I might want to know this new customer that graced our counter three days in a row. 

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down next to him and asked him how his breakfast was.  He smiled and said it was great.  I introduced myself and he gave me his name, Jimmy.  I then thanked him for coming in three days in a row.  He explained that he was staying in the motel across the street.  When I asked him what brought him to our town, he said that he was selling autographs over at Walmart.  Now, I am real curious but did not want to embarrass myself or him in not knowing who he was so I just asked him how long he would be around.  He said through the weekend.

So, my next move, later on that day was to look for him at Walmart.  I found him up toward the entrance sitting at a small desk.  The banner behind him read, “San Francisco 49er Hall of Famer Jimmy Johnson.  Now, I know that the NFL did not pay like they do now but my curiosity was spiked by why this man would be so far away from home.

The next morning, I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat next to him again and the conversation went something like this:

Morning, Jimmy.

Morning, Sir.

Jimmy, you didn’t tell me you were a football player.

You never asked.

So, why are you staying in the  motel across the street. 

It’s close to Walmart and I don’t have a car.

You have a comfortable room?

Not really, the heater is kind of loud and I am not getting as much rest as I would like.

So, Jimmy, you are a big time football player and you are here in Bend, Oregon so far away from home selling your autographs at a local Walmart.  I know it is none of my business, but I am curious as to why.

I am trying to raise money for a charity.

And what does your charity do?

It helps young boys down in Oakland get off of the street and keep them out of trouble.

Now, I am kind of overwhelmed.  This quiet, soft spoken football hero is probably missing his family and neighbors and is so far away from home trying to raise money to help out kids.

I thought about it for a minute or so and said:

Jimmy, I really appreciate what you are doing.  Is Walmart covering your expenses?

Well, they help me with  my lunch  and dinner but my room and breakfast are on me.

Well, to show you how much  we appreciate what you are doing, your breakfasts now are on us.

Thank you!  Can I do anything for you?

One of your autographs would be awesome.

He pulled one from a brief case that he had next to him and started writing on it.  He seemed to make a mistake and said that he would get another. 

I told him no, that I knew that the pictures cost him and I didn’t want him to have to pay for another just for me.  I told him just use the one that he had.

He smiled and finished off the picture and I had one of my first pictures for the wall.  And when I look at it and see where he rewrote his line, I remember the story behind it.

Others will see a autographed picture of a football player who ate at Jake’s.  For me, it is the memory of meeting a great man who used his celebrity status to help out others not as fortunate as himself.  A man who had left his family to sleep in a small room with a noisy heater and eat at a truck stop counter with strangers to make a difference with the people around him.

I see that recently the world lost this great man and I found his obituary online:

Lester

 He was a friend of my brother when I first met him.  Quiet and shy but a huge heart that could be seen by all.  I believe my mother saw that early also as she accepted him like another son.  I remember him as another brother.  

I had two brothers so with Les, we had 4.  Tie in with the 4 Petrie boys and we had a good foundation for a baseball game or whatever.  I found some old videos of my brother, Marvin coming out of the house with him before another video of a baseball game in our back yard.  First and maybe second base were stumps while third was the side of the garage.  It was a whole lot different than the video game era that we are in now.

I think alot of the glue that we had back then was our local pastor, Ned Landers.  I have written of him in previous posts.  His influence on our life then and in all of our adult lives have been very evident.  

I don't recall if Les graduated with Rudy and soon both Rudy and I were serving our country in the Navy.  Lester was Air Force, I believe and was a guard at the gate.  

The 70's seem to go similar for all of us.  We all got married in the middle of them and all had kids toward the end of them.  Les, Rudy, and I had daughters inside of a year.  While Rudy had a daughter two years later, Les and I both had sons.  I believe Marvin's son came along that year also or close to it.  

Towards the end of the 80's, we got back together.  Les and Margo started going to the same church and Judy and I.  We seem to link up again.  I remember them coming to our house and we to theirs.  Whether it was birthdays or Bible studies, we hung out.  

Les volunteered to lead the Junior High boys class and soon found himself under water.  It was a rather spirited class and one person could not have a chance at any control.  Les came to me and asked for my help.  It was my first opportunity at teaching in church and I was honored to have him ask.  I remember using some MC Hammer songs and playing them to the class.  Then, I read the lyrics to the class showing them that how his positive words can help them in their lives.  

I enjoyed being with him and Margo.  Margo's laugh and humor was so infectious.  

Sometime toward the end of the 80s, my family had a reunion of sorts at my folks house.  Mom still considered Les another son and invited Les, Margo, and their family to our get together.  Melissa hung out with the girls, while Russ and the boys had some sort of competition out front.  I have old videos that document the happiness of the event.  

In the late 90's, graduations came.  As I recall, Russ was involved with a local Christian band playing bass.  Les and I went to a club downtown to listen to the group.  

Russ garnered a job with the City of Bend and I remember encouraging him to stay there but he got bored and moved to LA.  Soon down there, he also managed to get another government job and once again, we encouraged him to stay for the future benefits of it.

But Russ was still unsure what direction he wanted to go so he joined up....the Marines.  And he went away to fight in Iraq.  

I was involved with Men's ministry at church and Les and I amongst others started a group called Dad's on their knees where we went in early Friday morning and prayed for our children.  

The turn of the century brought change to quite a few things.  911 affected me far more than I wanted it to and I backed away from my position at the church.  

The next few years seem to blur for me a bit.  Lots of things happened.  I struggled at work and then just 3 short years later, the biggest change in my life happened when I managed to keep the diner.  

I was soon working seven days a week and found my opportunities to socialize become almost non existent.  I barely had time to stay up with my own family let alone others.  

But, Les and I remained friends.  My memories are harder and pretty much most of my focus was on the diner.  

I don't remember what year Les and Margo moved to the apartment behind Safeway but I do recall going over to their place to help them with their electronics.  I believe we had some Bible studies their also.  Margo would always have treats for us.  

Les was an avid supporter of the Gideons and would meet with them at the diner on Saturdays so I at least saw him there.  

Then, he lost the love of his life.  I remember when he came in to see me.  He talked of how he knew she was gone when he looked at her in the morning.  The muscles that made it hard for her to smile had relaxed and he told me that her smile was beautiful.  He knew she was at peace but he missed her so deeply.  

Soon after when I would see him, his speech seemed to change and things became harder for him to speak of.  

Soon, he was in a home and I know that I should have been more diligent to go see him but I focused on other things....and I missed out.

I heard that Russ was putting him a home close to where he was at so he could keep a closer watch on him and I lost touch.  

Through Facebook, Melissa and I conversed and as I look back on the messages, she not only told me of her mothers struggles but also kept me appraised of Les's plight with memory care, falling, and later going into hospice.  

All through it, I prayed but was never able to get over to the valley to see him.  

And now, like so many others that I have known and loved....he is gone.  

But, I will hold on to those memories because I know....that I will see him and Margo again.  

Written after the Ducks loss in the last Pac 12 game

 

There comes a time in every game where you feel that your team will win or lose.  For me, last night, mine was the very first offensive play of the Ducks. 

Bo Nix was confident.  He had been working up to this moment and he was prepared.  In his mind, all was calm.  He watched as his primary ran a crossing route.  He took a deep breath and saw the point where his pass and the receiver would meet and he threw to it. 

The problem was that at that exact spot…stood a ref.  As the receiver ran behind the ref, the ball hit right in the numbers….of the ref. 

Immediately, in my head, I saw an ad.  In the ad, a group of people are so excited to have football again after Covid.  But, in the first play, something happens that is so intense, so stark, that they feel their year is over. 

I had that feeling as the ball bounced off of the refs chest.  And, I feel that play also shook up Bo.  In fact,  the most accurate passer in college football missed five of his first six passes.

As I wrestled with the disappointment of what I had just saw, it actually helped to lessen the disappointment of the loss coming in those few hours.  Even when they went up by 4 towards the end of the third, I just did not feel right. 

As I watched Bo’s parents wrestle with the desire to have their son win.  After all, the platform in front of Bo was clear.  Win and the Ducks are probably in the playoffs, Bo probably wins the Heisman, and the dreams of a magical season are bright. 

I remember seeing a woman close to them who had her hands folded in front of her.  She seemed to be praying.  I wondered if she was asking for the same thing that I was asking for.

In my head, I envisioned players throughout the stands asking for the same result.  A win for their team.  Their were believers on both sides asking God to allow their young men to be the ones that come out on top. 

Now, hours later, in the middle of the night, that one play resonates in my mind.  It actually changed my perspective of the game. 

I still watched the game, still hoping for the win.  But I saw other things also.  I saw people that I have personally met and actually have talked with.  Some of whom I actually have their phone numbers and have spoken and texted with.

Dan Lanning, Osman Kamara, and Matt Noyer.  I thought of conversations, of meetings, of texts. Recently, I had texted Osman in the middle of a game down in Arizona where I watched him have a player sign a shoe and place it on a trophy. 

As I watched Trae Holden catch the ball and score bringing the Ducks within 3 and I remembered taking a picture with him and talking to him on the sidelines.

As I am writing this, I have youtube playing various Christmas songs.  One of them was of an old man who was putting up his tree and various things on and around the tree brought back memories to him. 

Memories…the foundation of your life, of your perspective, of your health. 

The Admiral

 I remember seeing him the first time.  He was not very big in stature but there was something about his presence that caught your attention.  He just seemed....confident.

We averaged around 100 men and women every week in our meetings.  While most were enlisted, we had our officers.  But, he was our first Admiral.  Admiral John C. Shepard.  And, he just wanted to be one of the guys.  

I don't know how many times he had been there but after one of the meetings was over, he approached and introduced himself to me.  I do realize that his title held quite a bit to me but there was something about him that words cannot describe that held my attention even more.  

After he had introduced himself, he stuck out his hand to shake.  "You are doing a good job here.", he said, "Keep it up.".  My head dropped a bit as I tried to grasp the minute.  A steel grip brought me to the present.  I looked into eyes that grabbed and captured you.  "Did you hear what I said?", he asked.  "Yes sir.", I answered.  He smiled, turned and left the meeting.  

I have met many dignitaries.  Politicians, musicians, athletes, and the such, but this was an admiral.  He had commanded many men who commanded many more.  

He was not there that many times before we lost him.  His service was set for the Catholic church.  In his short time with us, he was greatly admired (no pun intended) and many showed up.

I made sure that my dress was ship shape that day.  I got my hair cut, made sure my ribbons were straight, and my shoes were shined.  It reminded me of getting ready for inspection back when I was in.

As a Navy man myself, I was asked to be one of his pallbearers.  Another first in my life and a great honor of it's own.  And, if I do say so, we looked pretty good for a bunch of old sailors as we attempted to keep in step, rolling his casket up the isle.  

After the service, we formed again and wheeled him outside.  When we got to the hearse, we lifted him up and rolled him in the back.  

At that moment, I felt a steel grip on my right hand and heard the words, "You are doing a good job here.  Keep it up.".  

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched his last ship depart.  

This all happened ten years back but it seems just like yesterday and its memory seems to be burned in my conscience.  One that I will cherish the rest of my life and become one of my life's many stories.  

The admiral's obituary

Jack

 There are probably quite a few people in your life that make a mark.  Some more than others.  Jack Mangin was one of them.  

I first met him back when the diner first started.  I had been working for Jake for a few years but running the restaurant had only been a part of what I did.  I had spent much of my time working on the software to run the accounting part of Jake's business.  

The restaurant was small and really did not need much supervision.  I actually spent much of my time there purchasing and staying on top of the numbers.  In actuality, I spent more of my time working the software.  

So, when Jake built the new diner, he asked me to help him find a manager for it.  But, I enjoyed being in the diner and talking with the local customers and steady drivers that passed through.  I told him that I would like to manage the diner and would help him hire someone to manage the software that I had created.  

I soon found out just how little that I knew of actually running a restaurant.  It became quite overwhelming and I struggled to stay on top of it all.  

I am unsure when I first met Jack but his reputation proceeded him as he had built the Pilot Butte Drive in which was fast becoming the best burger restaurant in town.  Jack and I became fast friends and he offered to help me with things.  If I struggled with something, I would just call Jack.  His usual response was, "Buy me breakfast and we will talk.".  He became my mentor.  

All through the 90s, we stayed in touch.  I learned so much from that good man.  From how to run a restaurant, how to treat people, and how to be honest in all that we do. 

So, when it came time to decide whether or not I could actually take over the diner, Jack was one of the key people that I called up to make the ultimate decision.  I remember well sitting in my back room, crunching the numbers and discussing the feasibility of it all.  We realized that I actually could make a go of it borrowing off of my house but I also knew that if I did that and failed, that I would lose everything that I had worked for. 

 I had a man who I had been working with for the monetary side.  I had been offered a 6 month lease on the present building and the money guy had told me not to take it as if you fail after only 6 months, you would lose more than you put into it.  As Jack and my buddy, Frank Patka, worked on the numbers, I got a call from the money man.  He told me to take the lease.  I asked why and he said, "Because I told you to.".  I told him that it was my neck on the line and asked him what had changed to change his mind.  He got angry with me and said, "Look here, I have worked with you for a few weeks and have not gotten a dime from you.".  I got a bit angry then and hung up on him.  

I turned to Jack and Frank and said, "Well, I guess I best just give up.".  Jack grabbed me by the shirt and looked straight into my eyes and said, "Lyle, if you don't do this, you will regret it the rest of your life!".  It was the push that I needed.  Without it, I would not be where I am today.  

My life became very busy after that day but from time to time, I would call up my old mentor to just...talk.  

When news came out that I was moving to my new location, he called and talked of the move.  He even dropped by and looked at the building giving me thoughts and ideas.  

After I moved and when things settled down, we talked of the craziness of it all.  Moving just down the road from him had actually brought more people to this side of the town and had helped both of our operations.  

Jack talked of his retirement but he said that he enjoyed going in and cleaning tables and such.  

Then, one day, he called and told me that he was selling and retiring.  I actually saw little of him after that.  I ran into him one day at Whispering Winds where he and Dee had moved to. 

When I started backing away from the diner myself and turning it over to my son, Casey, I had plans to stop in and see my old friend and mentor.  In fact, one of my customers gave me his cell phone number and I placed it in my pocket with the intention of relighting an old friendship.  

Then, Covid hit, and my intentions of backing away were turned around.  Like so many others, my life changed.  I spent much of my time looking at ways to keep the diner from collapse.  

Every once in a while, I would run across the phone number and think that once this all settles down, I need to give Jack a call.  

That call never happened.  I heard that Jack had passed but saw nothing in the papers.  I finally talked with another friend who lives at the home who acknowledged that Jack was gone.  

I have looked for the obit and found it today.

https://www.bendbulletin.com/obituaries/jack-thomas-mangin/article_d0ae9a64-c807-11ec-9d24-8f9776ce92a5.html

To be honest, I was saddened by the fact that it said so little of the man that I knew.  It stated quite simply that he had passed and the list of his family members that were left behind.  Nothing of the life that he had lived.  Just a quiet goodbye.  

His service is coming up in June.  I intend on being there to say goodbye to a friend....a mentor....and a great man.

A once in a lifetime friendship

I fight to remember the first time I saw them.  My memory just sees them as that cute little old couple towards the back of the room.  The only couple in the room full of mainly men.  I do remember sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting with them.  They were...easy to talk with.

One of the guys took me to the side and said, "That guy got the Medal of Honor.".  "Oh, really?", I thought.  I remember looking at the average build kind man and could not vision him storming a pill box taking out a group of Germans single handed.  That 'John Wayne' vision was what I thought of that medal.

I think it made me step back a bit.  I probably skirted their table a bit...feeling somewhat unworthy, I guess.  But, they both always had a smile on their faces and sought me out with a bright hello.  'Love' seemed to radiate from them and soon I was back with my cup, chatting with them before one of the meetings.

They didn't live in a big house up on the hill.  They had a small mobile home in one of the local lots.  Humble digs for a humble couple. It was the early days of my coming back out as a veteran so their warmth and acceptance encouraged me.

He had a birthday and a local retired officer made a huge deal of it with a big cake.  Bob just shrugged and went along with the fan fare.  I could see that he appreciated the gesture but certainly did not feed off of it.  'Just another day', I believe he said.

The more that I got to know them, the more I loved being around them.  Honestly, I don't recall an angry word coming from either and that is how I wish to remember them.....Loving.

In those early days, it was a rarity when Bea was not by his side.  I can only remember a very few like the time that he wanted to honor another close friend of mine, Bob Shotwell with a rock from Normandy beach.  We sat quietly at one of the LaPine meetings, him not wanting his stature to be greater than the honor that he wanted to bestow.

The two Bob's had a few things in common beside the war.  In fact, both of them had started up departments at our local college, COCC.  Bob Shotwell starting the Journalism dept and Bob Maxwell the Automotive. 

I recall a day that Bob called me up and asked to have a cup of coffee.  I never turned down that opportunity.  Bob and I sat in a booth at Jake's and he asked me if I had any ideas for fund raisers.  He was trying to raise money for Honor Flights where they were sending WW2 veterans to Washington DC.

We threw back and forth a few ideas, when I looked over at the table next to us to find another friend, Don Devore, who owns a business up on the Sandy river and makes our T shirts and sweatshirts at Jake's.  I invited Don over to the table and in the conversation, one of us came up with the idea of coats.  It was something that most could afford and that could be popular if well received.  Don agreed to make the coats at his cost to help in the fund raising.

In a matter of minutes, the three of us had designed a jacket.  On the front would be the person's name and his service.  On the back, we would have "Band of Brothers, Central Oregon.  We all agreed that the back would look better with a logo of sorts.  About that time, a veteran walked in and on the back of his vest, he had a patch.  In the center of the patch was an Eagle.  "What of that?", I asked.  We found a picture of the eagle online and with that, the logo of the Band of Brothers was created.  In fact, the jacket that wear on a normal basis was the prototype for the jacket that became a uniform and a way to bring all of the now various groups together.

I was honored to put the medal around his neck three times.  Every time, it was an extreme honor.  The first time was just before I introduced him to the Oregon Ducks Football team.  Putting the medal around his neck was a far greater honor than talking to the Ducks on their knees in the middle of the field so you can imagine how I felt that day.  That day will always be a red letter day in my life.

We persuaded him to be the Grand Marshall for the Veteran day parade and Judy was able to ride them around in the back of her Model A.  My father rode up front and really enjoyed that parade.  

Then, a few years back, he lost his partner.  I was in Portland at the time, watching a Lacrosse game that my grandson was playing in.  Friends kept me appraised of things as we all began to pray for Bea and him.  By the time that I got back to Bend, she was gone.  We had a huge service at Eastmont Church with a procession that led to the small cemetery close to Terrebonne.  Police from four different agencies blocked intersections so that we could get to the graveside together.  Our area had not seen anything like this.  A testament to how much the couple meant to all.

Bob began to falter in his health and many of us felt that he would probably follow close behind as we knew how much he loved Bea.  But God had other plans. 

Bob went to live in a local home and because he was struggling a bit a couple of us guys decided we would stop daily to encourage him to eat his meals.  I chose breakfast and really enjoyed having coffee with him every morning.  It just started off my day right.  They had put a few tables together in the middle of the lunch room and made it the veteran table.  Even when Bob didn't really feel well, he always took the time to check with all on the table to make sure they were ok.  Once, I caught him with his hand under his head.  "Are you ok?", I asked.  He smiled and said, "Only way that I can hold it up".  

He got shingles once and was unable to come down for a bit while he was contagious.  I would call and check up on him.  I could tell he was not feeling well one day and told him that I was sorry that he had to go through this.  He replied, "It might as well be me.  I have nothing better to do.".

And Bob continued to be the same giving Bob.  Most days, he welcomed whomever wanted to visit and was always so gracious.  He would give his visitor one of his coins and always listened and shared God's love in the way that Bob would.  He would give me a stash of his coins and asked me to give them to people that I ran across.  He said that you will know who to give them to.

I met a lady from the other side of the country when I was trying to fix a problem with my cell phone.  Her name was Kimberly Munley.  I found that she was the person who stopped the shooter at Ft Hood so many years back.  I told her that you never know what hero you might be talking to and she asked me not to call her a hero.  But Bob did.  We sent her a message from Bob and one of his coins.  She cherishes it to this day. 

I took my grandson to see him a few times.  He always enjoyed it and called the home, Bob's home.  He was a bit confused when my mother moved in.  "She lives in Bob's house?', he asked.  

I took him in on a Thursday to see her and as we walked by his room, I could see he was praying with someone so we left him alone.  On the way back out, Bob's friend was gone and we stopped by.  Bob said that he wished that I could have met the man he was praying with.  He called him the best of the best.  I needed to know more about that since Bob was the best of the best to me.

I dropped my grandson off and went back.  "Tell me about the best of the best", I asked.  Bob shared that the man had been his pastor in Eugene at Santa Clara.  I asked if it was the Santa Clara Church of Christ and he said, 'yes".  I asked if he knew a Marion Glick there and he said, "Yes, she was a nice lady.".  Marion Glick was my grandmother and it was there that I came to know that he knew her.  That was our last conversation.  

I left town the next day to go to Portland to an event and came back on Saturday.  On the way home, I was called and told that Bob had gone to hospice.  It was late when I arrived so I decided to go there first thing in the morning....but Bob passed away that evening.  

When I heard I felt numb.  No more would I sit at his table.  No more would we talk over a cup of coffee.  No more smile.

On Sunday, I drove to the diner to help out.  I felt so empty as I drove I drove into the lot.  On the radio, there was a song playing called "Shangri-La".  I remember saying out loud, "That is where you are right now, my friend".  I looked down at the screen to see that the man playing the song was named....Robert Maxwell.  The tears started to flow as I grieved the loss of my old friend...and mentor.  

I know that I will see him again one day.  But till then, I have my memories.