Yesterday I went to a Celebration of Life for my former bandmate and good friend, Dave Poarch. Dave eventually lost a battle with cancer, but not before a helluva fight. He was one tough hombre.
Around 2010, the trio I was in needed a guitar player and singer, so I put an ad on Craigslist, and Dave responded. From the outset, I could tell he’d bring exactly what we needed, and he crushed my expectations with his excellent vocals and musicianship.
We soon became “Beth Britton and The Boomers” and hit the local farmer’s market scene, hoping to move up. Dave’s voice blended really well with Beth’s. That, coupled with an eclectic set list no other band had, gave us a niche in the private party scene. Before we knew it, we were gigging 3-4 times a month. Nothing was off the table. We covered everyone from Amy Grant to AD/DC. Dave brought in songs from artists I had never heard of that became staples of our set list. His creativity and openness to whatever sounded good were a real asset to the trio. My two favorite songs featuring Dave were Beautiful Wreck (Shawn Mullins) and Into the Mystic (Van Morrison).
The Boomers worked their way to playing at an actual bar, Marks on the Channel up in Scapoose. I had seen notable local artists play there and never thought I’d play there myself, so I went in with a little bit of imposter syndrome, but Dave and Beth carried the day. Before long, the place was rockin’. There’s no better feeling for a band than when people get up to dance and seem to be having a good time. We probably split $200 between us; I don’t remember the exact numbers, but the money was never the point. Dave just loved music. It was just part of his DNA.
Through the band, Dave and his lovely wife, Vicki, became good friends of ours. Dave was always an interesting hang. The conversation was good, but what I remember most about him and Vicki as hosts is that they always focused on you. They genuinely wanted to know what was going on in your life and dug deep into what we were up to. Dave never made it about him. Even when he was really sick, he didn’t want the focus on him for very long.
Not surprisingly, Dave’s Celebration of Life in Newberg was packed, and music was on the menu. He clearly touched many lives. I didn’t expect anything less. Knowing him meant having a really good friend. Vaya con Dios, amigo. We’ll see you on the other side.
In the 1960s, my grandparents traveled to Japan by freighter. This wasn’t a luxurious cruise by any stretch of the imagination. They wanted to take a retirement vacation, experience Japan, and satisfy some curiosities about the country. Traveling by airplane was expensive. The destination was the point; there wasn’t any rush to get there.
I was a wee lad when the trip took place, but I remember two things. My grandfather played cribbage with the ship’s captain during the month-long voyage, and I got a cool blue jacket with Japan written on it as a gift when they returned.
He didn’t talk to me much about the trip, but I believe he came away impressed by the Japanese people’s resourcefulness. I think he sailed away thinking these people had that human factor that leads to success. Enough so that he included Japan in his future investment strategies. Not long after, companies like Toyota gained serious ground in the car market with fuel-efficient vehicles, while American car companies had to be convinced by the 1970s energy crisis before they got off the gas-guzzling bandwagon. His investment strategy wasn’t complicated. He wasn’t a numbers guy. He placed his bets where he thought growth was inevitable, backed by in-demand products built by good, hard-working people.
I was reminded of my grandparents’ journey while wandering through the Portland Art Museum (PAM) this week. Donna and I have a membership, thanks to a generous gift from one of my children, so we like to go at least a few times a year and make an afternoon date out of it. The exhibits range from barely impressive to extraordinary. Allow me to walk you through some thoughts and impressions.
PAM rotates in new art about every two months. This time, the museum’s new attraction was Indigenous art. I am about as far from a credible art critic as you can get (picture Eddie Haskell-level sophistication), but my mind still likes to spend time judging art for talent and creativity. Hey, I paid to get in; I get to judge all I want.
We like to traverse the art museum from the top down, so we take the elevator up to the fourth floor and start with the Modern Art exhibits. I always look forward to seeing what’s on display in the Modern Art section because I often conclude I chose the wrong career path. I easily could have become an artist and produced half of these knockoffs.
Take this piece on the left, for example. My fourth-grade teacher would have given this project a D, and I have no idea what the artist on the right was thinking, so I didn’t spend more than ten seconds trying to figure it out. This looks like an eighth-grade science project that got started at 10pm the night before it was due.
Not all Modern Art falls into this category. Some of it is pretty creative. In my judgment, the original thinking is just as important as the artistic skill to put the idea together. Here’s a giant circuit board made from hundreds of smaller circuit boards, all pieced together. Whoever came up with this idea is someone I would enjoy talking to. Sometimes simplicity can be eye-catching. Below are some sticks and twigs. What matters isn’t how long it took to put the piece together. If it creates a stunning visual effect, that tells me the idea had some merit.
Cleverness Abounds
Regarding Modern Art in general, I always thought Andy Warhol was a bit of a poser, one of those guys who built a mystique around himself by being an odd-looking duck who deals in the esoteric and fools the nobs into thinking he’s some sort of genius. His art creds came from a half day in the studio and a full evening at Studio 54 hobnobbing with the eccentrics.
So what else does this museum have to offer? A lot, actually.
Here’s a bust of York, a slave who played a key part in the Lewis and Clark expedition. Sometimes it’s the story behind a piece that grabs your attention. York worked as a full member of the team, hunting game, building forts and canoes, and doing other heavy labor. At the mouth of the Columbia, he was even given a vote, alongside the others, on where to spend the winter. When the expedition returned to St. Louis, York asked Clark for his freedom. Clark said no. What an ungrateful bastard. Years later, he was freed, but the story says a lot about who did the work and who took all the credit.
York
We wandered through the next few floors, taking in artwork that displayed real talent and creativity. I had no illusion I could ever produce any of these pieces, even in my wildest dreams. This work truly showed a high level of skill.
As Vanessa Williams crooned in 1992, the best was saved for last, which brings me back to Japan and my grandparents. What struck me about the Japanese exhibits was the level of detail, the commitment to perfection, and the patience it must have taken to create these pieces. The bamboo basket caught my attention because of what it must have taken to bring together so many thinly sliced bamboo pieces, weave them tightly with pieces of various sizes, and make it look so stunning that you can’t imagine a human being made it. At least, none of the clowns I hang out with. The vases had gorgeous shapes and intricate paintings. The furniture was crafted with precision and beauty.
As a hopelessly pragmatic sort, I guess what strikes me about the level of commitment to making art pieces like these is the return on investment. The basket had to have taken over a hundred hours to make. There’s no way the artist could ever get paid fairly for their time. But maybe that isn’t the point when you’re an artist? It must have been nice to have the time to sink into creative endeavors without worrying about the return. Or maybe they weren’t flush with money, just committed to doing things a certain way. I wish they were around so I could ask. In any case, Japan won the art contest this time, in my mind.
My grandfather was right. The Japanese people are skilled, clever, patient, and wise. I think their art reflects a people who are disciplined and humble.
I left the Portland Art Museum convinced we have regressed as a society. I think we peaked in the mid-20th century, and it’s been downhill ever since. The phrase “Boy, they don’t make ’em like that anymore” came to mind several times. But I realized, boy, they don’t make ’em like that anymore, here. In Japan and elsewhere, they do.
Thanks to the magic of PAM membership, I have upgraded my art knowledge from Eddie Haskell-level to Wally-level. I don’t think I’m too far out of the mainstream, though. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
George Carlin once said the answer to world peace is an international square dance every Friday night. Think about it. I can’t shoot Igor, he was at the dance yesterday and he’s a cool guy!
I do not see a counterargument that would work very well.
In 1985, when I lived in Marysville, Washington, my good friend Dave Aldrich sent out his annual Christmas letter. A Berkeley grad, activist, and FDR Democrat, Dave was convinced that Republicans have been working to unravel the New Deal since it was enacted. Needless to say, he was not a fan of the Reagan Administration at the time.
In his annual holiday letter, Dave went on a two-page, nonstop, political rant about everything that was wrong with the country, railing against Republicans using George Will-level vocabulary, and then signed it “Merry Christmas.” It was the funniest Christmas letter I have ever received.
I’ve often been tempted to steal his idea, but there’s no way I could ever match his wit or vocab, so I’ll just admit up front that, after the cruelty I witnessed in 2025, I seriously considered it.
I’m thankful that I don’t need to, because for those who reached this site via a link from me, I’d be preaching to the choir. It was encouraging to see you out at the protests. Keep up the good work. We all know the assignment.
Other than living in Orwellian times, there were a lot of positives to share about this past year.
To say that retirement is agreeing with Donna and me might be the understatement of the year. We are both thriving. After spending the first couple of years in retirement getting health issues out of the way, we feel we’re engaged in fulfilling activities independently and with friends, family, and each other. We appreciate the freedom that comes with being retired and don’t take it for granted for one second.
Donna joined the Dahlia Society and is learning how to fill the yard with … more dahlias. There’s a lot more to it than meets the eye. Some people are really into it. They have shows and competitions with people judging dahlias that cost hundreds of dollars… for a flower. Donna isn’t like that. She just wants to learn how to make our little plot of land beautiful with dahlias and meet like-minded people. She’s been able to spend more time in the shop doing her art projects. Bold ideas are starting to surface. We’ll keep you posted.
Donna’s mom, Janet, turned 95 this past year and is requiring more care than in the past. We’re thankful that she’s agreeable in her environment, and that the staff at her care center enjoys her. Donna has reached full stride as a sports fan this past year. The very thought of March Madness brings her immense joy. She’s now an avid viewer of sports on television, especially when it’s playoff time. When I look at our shared calendar, all the Duck games and times are already listed. Her golf game gets better every year, and the sports attire section of her closet is growing. I picked the right wife.
I spend my days making difficult decisions among my seemingly endless list of hobbies. I’m still involved in sports officiating (added volleyball to the mix this year), get out for some golf, walk with my buddy Dan, and am still writing the same book I wrote about last year (It’s Complicated, Isn’t It?”). It’s a work in progress. The more I write, the more I discover. I spent considerable time in the music studio this year, recording songs and putting them out on YouTube (William Toner).
Our travel schedule included exotic destinations like Seattle, Neskowin, Port Townsend, and Altoona, Washington. We have adopted a ‘short getaway’ strategy that fits well with our lifestyle and retirement budget. We try to pick places where we can bring Pickles because Pickles is spoiled, and snorts if we leave her at home.
I helped my son Robby build a shed this past year from a set of plans he bought online (see pics). Those who know me know it wasn’t work, it was all fun. I love building stuff, though I’m far from being a pro. What we didn’t know, we figured out. Emilia helped by adding artwork to the project with her felt pens. Rob and Ariana thought it might even be too helpful.
Two days ago, we welcomed Nicholas William Toner into the family. Proud parents Dan and Emily are now a family of five, complete with 3 car seats in the back. We really enjoy hearing what comes out of the mouths of babes. It’s hard work raising a family, but when the kids crack you up with what’s on their mind, it’s all worth it. When we see Gwennie and Ellie, they never disappoint.
We are looking forward to seeing Kelli and the boys at Christmas and learning about their football season. Kaden graduates this year, and Karter is a Freshman. We are very proud of the young gentlemen they have become. Sports fanatics and good students. What more could you want?
With that, in no particular order, I leave you with some memories from 2025.
On Thursday, I attended Dan McClellan’s book signing event at the Duniway Hotel in Portland. If you are unfamiliar with McClellan, he is a biblical scholar with a Ph.D. from the University of Exeter in Theology and Religion and a robust social media following (Twitter, Instagram, et al.). He also co-hosts a podcast called “Data over Dogma” with Dan Beecher.
McClellan is a somewhat controversial figure in religious circles because he frequently and unapologetically discredits religious myths and dogma posited by the far right. He does this very unemotionally and intelligently, presenting irrefutable facts and scholarly research to the conversation. Watching him in action has been both educational and entertaining.
Dan’s new book is titled “The Bible Says So — What We Get Right (and Wrong) about The Bible’s Most Controversial Issues,” The book delves into provocative subjects such as whether or not the Bible is the inspired word of God, its inerrancy, Creation, Slavery, the Trinity, the Virgin Birth, and whether or not the Bible says women need to cover up. True biblical scholars like McClellan add historical, cultural, literary, linguistic, and theological context to the conversation. In doing so, he tries to understand Biblical Texts as their authors, editors, and earliest audiences understood them. From McClellan’s introduction:
Many people approach the Bible as authoritative, maintaining boundaries regarding what it is and isn’t allowed to say. Allowing the Bible to transgress those boundaries can raise doubts regarding deeply held beliefs people don’t want to see subjected to scrutiny. They are not beliefs that people adopt because they’ve been convinced by data or evidence. They’re beliefs that people choose to accept because doing so is required or incentivized within the social identities that are important to them. Sometimes these beliefs are supported by data and sometimes they are not, but what is true of all of them is that they’re not negotiable. I call this type of belief dogma.
McClellan’s presence on social media frequently intersects with people who assert dogmas such as biblical texts as divinely inspired, inerrancy, and univocality. You’d have to read the book to get all the details, but in a nutshell, McClellan rejects these assertions. He asserts that these beliefs arose over time as people contemplated the implications of different approaches to the Bible and constructed perspectives that made the scripture most useful to their structuring of power, values, and boundaries.
Perhaps the most eye-opening takeaway from McClellan’s message is from a linguistics perspective — that the Bible is a collection of texts without inherent meaning. Meaning comes into play when we attempt to interpret the text, so at the end of the day, it’s whatever you make of it based on your own experiences. We are never just extracting pure and unadulterated meaning. We’re continually constructing it ourselves. We end up guessing the original authors’ needs, circumstances, values, and goals. Why? Because the needs, circumstances, values, and goals of authors and editors two thousand years ago are wildly different than those of today.
My interest in these topics stems from the fact that I am writing a book myself, “It’s Complicated, Isn’t It?” For most of my adult life, I’ve been interested in engaging in discussions with others (if it can be done intelligently and unemotionally). It’s a frustrating endeavor because, in the age of social media, you’re more likely to run into people so steeped in misinformation that they instantly refute your point with lies and propaganda. There’s no moment to pause and stop to actually think things over. They just immediately pull out some parrotted talking points as a rebuttal (usually half way through your sentence). I’ve taken on Republicans in debate forums where Biblical quotes are weaponized in many different ways. In the twenty first century social media landscape, I appreciate guys like McClellan who are out there pushing back on misinformation in an educated way.
I briefly met Dr. McClellan at the book signing and later followed up with a question about the origins of ethics and morals. I was delighted to have him confirm one of the basic hypotheses of my book—believing that ethics and morals originated from the Bible is a fallacy. Ancient philosophers contributed more to framing ethics and morals than the Bible. Most early Christian ethics writing was based on Greek philosophy anyway when the Bible was translated from Aramaic to Greek in 200 – 250 BCE.
Let’s start with the good news. 2023 was great for our overall health and we are both loving retired life.
Pickles is starting to slow down just a little. She still loves her walks, her treats, and adores any humanoid instantly. She’s not satisfied until she says “hi” to everyone in the park. She’s always run with reckless abandon and it caught up to her this year when she went headfirst into a shrub and poked her right eye. It’s healing well now, but not without a fair amount of veterinary intervention. Tomorrow she gets to take her cone off. She’s excited about that.
Donna decided to get a series of 9 golf lessons at Redtail Golf Course and is striking the ball with authority these days. Just ask the guys who were trying to clear off the 3rd green at Sahalie! Just kidding, she didn’t do that, but she has hit long off the tee on some par 3’s. She got her first birdie before she got her first par which is rather unusual. I saw it myself and vowed not to let her beat me on any more holes the rest of the day.
She spends her days taking care of the garden and yard, having happy hour and other activities with friends, working on art projects in her shop and participating in a monthly music group (more on that later). We venture out together to estate sales, music events and whatever else suits us that week. Next year she’s signed up for a metalsmith class in the hopes of adding that skillset to her repertoire. She’s never at a loss for something to do.
Bill (that’s me) had a very enjoyable year in so many ways. I took a job umpiring baseball games for Lake Oswego Little League which kept me really busy from April through June. The grand finale was 7 All Star games at the District 4 Tournament for 10 and 11 year olds. I had a blast and learned a lot. During the summer I built a playhouse for the grandkids in the back yard and a few other things (see pictures). There was sawdust flying everywhere for a couple of months. Donna decked out the inside of the playhouse in her inimitable style.
I got out about once/week for some golf at Charbonneau with my buddy Glenn Smith while the weather was good. As if that weren’t enough fun for one year I signed up to referee basketball with PBOA and CYO and am now a first year referee (probationary status 1). They keep sending me paychecks so I must not suck too bad. BLEEP! WHITE 22, ON THE ARM, 2 SHOTS! It’s actually harder than it looks.
The year wasn’t all fun and glory however. We lost my cousin Mike Eady in August. Mike was a one of a kind guy. I wrote a blog post/tribute to him here. We miss him dearly. He was soooooo funny, a diehard Duck fan, and such a great writer. See a hilarious sample of his writing here.
We also lost my step brother Gary Hicks, a character if there ever was one. Gary had to deal with blindness his last year of life which was very difficult. I was able to get over there and assist him doing small things that were inconsequential to me, but made a big difference to him. Gary was my brother from another mother. I miss him and his very unique sense of humor.
Donna and I are anxiously awaiting the re-opening of the new Lake Oswego Municipal Golf Course! It’ll be an executive par 30 course, just right for us old geezers who like to get a par once in a while. No big plans for the coming year, just enjoying the hell of of not working and the anti-stress lifestyle associated with that.
On the music front, we both attend a monthly group of musicians hosted by our awesome neighbors across the street Patt and Don where we get to play a song or two to the crowd. Donna has a couple of duet partners (violin, piano) that she has a lot of fun collaborating with. We’re regulars now and look forward to our monthly “gig.” I did manage to add one recording to YouTube here.
Other than that we plan to continue to hit the estate sales because there’s no possible way we have enough stuff yet.
The Fam
On a sad note we went from having all of the grandkids around to 3/5. The Gilpin’s moved to Goodyear, AZ during the summer and headed for warmer weather. To heck with Oregon and Sherwood! We miss them and going to the GKs sporting events and other get-togethers.
The Grandkids, whoo-boy. They are growing up fast. Kaden is 15 (almost 16), a sophomore, driving and pitching JV for his high school in Goodyear, AZ and swings varsity when his team needs an extra arm. Karter is 13 and active in football and baseball and swimming in his new pool. They are the nicest boys ever. They make us proud every time we see them.
Emilia is 4 and like her dad, quite the character including back seat song critic. She played soccer this year and enjoys pre-school. We love everything about Emilia. She’s a sweetie.
Gwennie is also 4 and tried soccer this year and does dance lessons as well. She’s very focused on getting her dance routine right and does a great job. Her sister Ellie (2) as best we can tell spends a lot of time trying to keep up with Gwennie. The girls are a heavy dose of cute and going to be so much fun to watch them grow up in the coming years. Lucky us!
Images from 2023
The PlayhouseEmilia checking out the inside of the playhouseKaden and Karter taking a golf lessonGwennie and Ellie showing us their findings from inside the playhouseKarter (catching), Kaden (umpiring)Gwennie and Ellie at Chuck E. CheeseDonna’s Arts and Crafts Work BenchAriana, Donna, and Emilia during a soccer timeoutEllie sampling an apple from the back yardPaver project. Not the funnest project ever. About the hit the links at SahalieGwennie made a few bucks at her lemon-aid stand this year at OCF. Silver Falls HikeEstate Sale Find and Fix-up. Art drawers. Flattened out back behind the shed with some RR TiesYou’re Out! Lean-to for storing patio furniture during the winterMe and Kelli at a concert. What the heck is she drinking? Ellie Checking out the toys insideEmilia and Gwennie making big plansDonna and Pickles at Haystack RockRob (coach) and Emilia on a typical Fall SaturdayBumper crop of 6 gallons of apple sauce this year from the back yard.I dunno, I thought it was funny! These are original Bill Toner designed bumper stickers. Get one while they’re hot! Limited supply!
So no judgement here to those who enjoy their wine, beer or cocktails. I was a light drinker for about 30 years and moved up to a moderate to sometimes heavy drinker later in life.
I got a wakeup call with a stroke on December 24th 2012. Slow learner than I can be at times, it took me another 12 years to see the obvious. That alcohol wasn’t adding to my life in a positive way. I know that’s not true for everyone but when I was honest with myself I had to admit that it was doing more damage than good.
Post-stroke I’ve had to take an impactful list of medications that have side effects of their own, and as the labels clearly say, they don’t mix well with alcohol. I’ve had issues with dizziness, brain fog, and feeling lethargic. In the end it didn’t make sense to add more fuel to the fire.
Roll the tape back 30 years and what I found out about myself is that I have an addictive personality. I was addicted big-time to caffeine for decades. I quit and restarted caffeine no less than 50 times and immediately endured the severe headaches that come along with that, only to start again. I’d rotate between coffee and pop. At its worst, I’d brew a pot of coffee in the morning (I had a coffee pot in my cubical at work) and refill it a few times. If it was diet soda I’d bring in one of those small college refrigerators to work and fill it up with cans of Diet Pepsi or Diet Coke. I knew it was getting bad when it wasn’t enough to bring in a 12 pack every couple of days and switched to carrying around a 2 liter bottle with me. All day long. Some of the times I quit it was because I got tired of having to find a restroom every hour.
Alcohol wasn’t the exact same experience for me. Quitting was actually easy. I didn’t have any side effects at all. Didn’t need to go to AA or take one day at a time or any of the 12 steps. I don’t think I fell into the typical alcoholic label because I never craved it. I just enjoyed having some wine with my meals and often times a 2nd glass and maybe a 3rd. That be fine if it were once a week but I seemed to find an excuse to open up a bottle just about every night.
The only thing I miss about it today is having a glass of wine handy on those rare occasions when I’m in the kitchen cooking. Other than that, I’m good. Ordering at restaurants doesn’t bother me. Soda water it is. Deal.
Since retiring I’ve had a goal of betting back into some semblance of shape as well. Alcohol was dragging me down make me feel tired so that I missed opportunities to exercise because I was just out of energy. Getting fit requires a combo of dietary changes and cardio/physical workouts. With its sugar content, wine wasn’t helping me keep my calorie count down either.
Everything in moderation? Sure, if you can do it. I had a hard time, but that’s just me. It’s a very personal choice.
Looking back on a whole year without alcohol I can honestly say my year’s list of accomplishments is way up. I feel better more often and with process thoughts with more clarity. As with caffeine I just tell myself I had a pretty good run with it for a number of years. I used up my lifetime allotment in less than a lifetime so that’s enough I guess. If this helps a reader in some way, great. If not, carry on and do what works for you.
A week ago I attended a memorial service for my cousin Mike Eady. Mike was 67 and passed away from a heart attack while playing soccer.
Mike came from a family of 6. He had a twin brother Pat, a younger sister Janice and younger brother Jim. So many of the stories from the memorial service supported the storyline of an idyllic childhood growing up in Eugene and Sacramento. Growing up in Portland and frequenting Eugene for Saturday Ducks games, I remember the Eugene years the best. I wish there was a way to articulate the level of hilarity that the Eady family brought into our lives. Pat and Mike, seemingly joined at the hip since birth had an innate ability to play off each other and argue a point in rapid succession as if they knew what the other one was going to say next. You had no chance in part because it was coming at you fast, but also because you were laughing so hard.
Late into life Mike still had an appreciation for the classic shows of the sixties and seventies with enviable recall. Perry Mason, Twelve O’Clock High, Laugh In, Candid Camera, Hogan’s Heroes, Green Acres, Gilligan’s Island, The Beverly Hillbillies. His recall included not just the character names but their real names as well, and oftentimes what other shows they appeared in.
Mike was a lover of the game of baseball, and in particular minor league baseball. For several years he was a season ticket holder for the Sacramento Rivercats. In 1984 Glenn Wagonner authored a book titled “Rotisserie League Baseball” which was the origin of what’s mostly called Fantasy League Baseball today. A bunch of guys in New York came up with the idea of competing against each other over baseball stats to basically see who is the better General Manager. They held an auction draft where each owner, with a limit of $260, bid on players to fill out their team and compete in both offensive (HRs, RBIs, Avg. and SBs) and pitching categories (ERA, Whip, Wins and Saves). Mike of course got wind of the book and ended up starting the Ring Lardner Rotisserie League in Sacramento with family and friends in 1985. Baseball stats, competition, social gatherings to talk sports. He’s was all-in. The League is still going today, in its 38th year, but unfortunately now looking for a new commissioner to replace Mike.
Mike was a prolific writer. Some owners produced newsletters associated with their teams where they would oftentimes complain about underperforming players as well as the goings on of the league regarding baseball matters as well as social gatherings. Mike’s team was the Eady Atoms and the name of his Newsletter was “Atomic Droppings.” I would need to sit down before starting to read because I knew the LOLs were coming, even some ROFLs. Case in point. One year when Dusty Baker was managing the Giants and playing their hated rivals the Dodgers, the Giants were up big and Dusty put in some subs prematurely and almost let the Dodgers back in it. Mike was incensed. “You don’t take your foot off the gas playing the Dodgers. That’s like stopping in the middle of sex because you already know how it’s going to end!” Among the most hilarious stories I’ve ever read is Tennis A-Go-Go. Give it a read for a good laugh.
The thing I most admired about the Ring Lardner Rotisserie League is a feature I have failed to incorporate into the Fantasy Leagues I have participated in over the last 4 decades. While each team owner contributed some money for the betting pool, the league wasn’t about winning money. It was understood that there would be an end of the season banquet and much of the money from the betting pool would support dinner and drinks that night. The winner would take home a few bucks and of course, bragging rights, but there has always been a strong emphasis on the social aspects of the league. The auction draft at the beginning of the season and the banquet at the end were days owners could look forward to and be assured of hilarity with their friends. Mike was a strong proponent of the social aspects. He got it. He who dies with the most friends at the end wins.
I grew up with 3 wonderful sisters and was the only boy in the family so the Eady cousins were the closest thing I had to brothers growing up. Jim and I are about a year apart and share fond memories of going to Autzen stadium watching the hapless Ducks in the 1960’s and ’70’s, sitting in the Knot Hole Gang seats (basically in the end zone right in front of the loudspeakers). 6-5 was a stellar season for the Ducks back then and Knotholes tickets cost 50 cents.
One summer in Eugene we spent the afternoon at the Amazon pool with Jim. An impressive outdoor facility with a set of 3 pools including a diving pool, our parents could get rid of us from 1-5pm for 15 cents a kid. I remember Jim and I were minding our own business down at the deep end of the pool taking a bit of rest and talking, hanging onto the side of the pool with our heads above water. Out of the blue, we hear “Hello, Bill” and “Hello, Jim” and there was Pat and Mike jumping in right above us, one hand on our heads, dunking us under the water and holding for a few seconds, and then disappearing off to another part of the pool. The odd thing was, as uncomfortable as that was at the time, I couldn’t wait to come back to Eugene for the next round of elder brother abuse.
The Turn Verein gathering hall in Sacramento was packed with friends and family to pay tribute to the man Mike was. To know him was to experience very intelligent conversation on a wide range of subjects with a unique perspective and usually a roomful of laughter. Mike valued his friends a great deal and it showed at the Memorial Service. He was admired and loved by many, and though he died much too young, in many ways he won the game of life. He will be remembered fondly by so many of the people whose lives he touched.
