Smack dab in the middle of my failing marriage was the death of my mom. I've written several times about the last sixty days of my mom's life. I traveled up and down I-65 many times in the Spring of 2016.
One of the visits towards the end involved a return trip back to Chicago on a Saturday afternoon. I had to get back in time to a charity event for the Shepkid's school.
My mom could see the stress on my face. She asked me if I was alright and how my marriage was going. My mom was laying in her death bed, I didn't need her worrying about her adult son. So I took the liberty of bullshiting her.
"Everything is fine Ma."
She knew me for almost fifty years and she knew when I was full of shit. "You better get out of here Pumpkinhead and go take care of your wife."
It was an unusually quick trip back north on the highway between Indianapolis and Chicago. I arrived home to my awkward living conditions and went straight to the Shepkids for hugs and love. I knew there wasn't love to receive from their mom.
"Hurry up and get ready, the babysitter will be here in ten minutes. You are late!"
I shit, showered and shaved quickly and put on a suit. The babysitter was downstairs and we were out the door. I needed a quick detour before we went to this fucking charity event. So we stopped off at this place called The Wolfshead for a quick cocktail.
I just left my sick mom, drove 180 miles in two and a half hours and was all dressed up sitting with Mary Tudor. I needed at least one bourbon, maybe two.
We walked into the restaurant and noticed a Saint Cletus family having dinner. "Good evening Coach Shepley...."
I stopped and said hello. It was a family that sent three boys through our football program. The youngest was now in high school and he was sitting there with his parents.
I joined my beautiful wife at the bar as she was already having a lipstick stained glass of red wine. I ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks and started to catch my spouse up on the condition of my mom.
While my wife was half ass listening to my situation, the former Cardinal walked up to us at the bar.
"Pardon me coach. Do you have a moment?"
The young man was now finishing up his senior year of high school. He explained to me that he needed to write an essay so he can receive an Evans Scholar to Purdue.
"Coach.... one thing that you always said to us at Cletus was, 'You can judge a man by the way he finishes his job,' and that always stuck with me....."
He told me that he wrote about his grade school football coach always hammering that phrase into his players. The young man explained in his essay that he will always finish the job and that is why he deserved the Evans Scholar.
"Coach, I thought you should now this and that I will be attending Purdue this fall as an Evans Scholar...."
I suddenly went from feeling sad to being proud. I shook the young Lenz kid's hand and wished him luck.
I really wanted to put my arms around that little son of a bitch and thank him. I wanted to tell him that I hated this lady sitting with me at the bar. I wanted to tell him my mom was dying. I wanted to tell him that his words made his old coach feel much better about life.
When we walked out and passed the Saint Cletus family, I made eye contact with Mister Lenz and softly murmured "Thank You."
My mom died two weeks later and I moved to Riverside the following year. Like most of the kids that went to mass and played football for the Cardinals.... the Lenz kid, now in his twenties is on his path to a successful life.
Because he has his straight F's in life.
F:F,F,F&F
Don't forget to turn back your clocks tonight. Today the sun has a smile!
