By John Salmon, CC BY-SA 2.0, Link
, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link
By John Salmon, CC BY-SA 2.0, Link
, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link
1970: Keith
I was in first grade in 1970. It was my first year as a full time student as kindergarten back then was a strictly half day affair. My older sister was in 2nd grade and my younger brother was doing whatever 4 year-olds did back in the early 70's. I don't have any memories when I didn't have both an older sister and a younger brother.
I do have memories before my youngest brother, Keith was born on veteran's day 1970. I remember some of kindergarten. I remember my first day of first grade and I certainly remember walking home from school that day in Mid November when my Mom was coming home from the hospital with Keith.
I also sadly have many memories of life without my baby brother. He died a little more than 14 1/2 years ago. An event that is very well chronicled on this blog. This is the fifteenth birthday we have celebrated without him.
By the time Keith was starting first grade, I was starting 7th grade. Because of the age difference we weren't all that close growing up. He started high school when I was in college living at home and volunteering in the same high school youth group I had been in while in school. He starting attending that youth group and we spent quite a bit of time together because of that. As a result we became closer and even though we weren't exactly super tight, he was probably the relative I was closest with.
In 1987, the year I left home to reinvent myself, Keith started his senior year of high school. Over Spring Break that year he had his first hospitalization due to mental illness. This was the beginning of his road to a Bi-polar diagnosis. I think back then they just called it a nervous breakdown.
That Fall he did go away to school, actually pretty close to where I had landed and he spent his first two semesters of college the farthest he ever lived away from my parents. The next year He went back home to a local junior college and started to find his own way. While there he met the woman he would eventually marry and he got married before either of his older brothers.
Keith eventually graduated from college and began graduate school but never completed it. I think the only job he ever had was at McDonalds, but he always worked hard and he always took care of his family, And I never met someone who loved his kids more fiercely than Keith did.
Some Friday night in the summer of 2006, I was at an outdoor movie night at a local park with my family. My cell phone rang, it was my Dad. Keith was sick, He had only 10 % use of his heart and his kidney function was at the same rate. Within a week, he was getting treated at the Mayo Clinic.
His kidneys were shot because of the lithium he took for his bi-polar, but we never discovered what happened with his heart. From 2006 to April 2008 Keith's life developed into a consistent pattern. He'd be hospitalized he'd then go to a nursing home (one of the only 30 somethings in the joint) then go back home far a month or two and then he'd be hospitalized again because either his heart medicine was creating problems for his kidneys or his kidney medicine was messing with the bi-polar or any other such permutation. rinse, lather, repeat.
Keith loved trivia, especially Jeopardy. He was an excellent chess player and loved all kind of puzzles especially those in Games magazine. I am sure, he would have been great at current games, like Wordle and Nerdle.
Keith died at the age of 38 so I always think of him as 38. Or I think of him at 27, when he got married. Or I think of him at 30 when his son Robert was born. Or I think of him ay 32 when his daughter Sarah arrived. Or at the age of 22 when he visited me in Russia and said of my filing system, "A place for everything and everything on the floor." Or at the age of 17 when I saw him graduate high school at the old Poplar Creek concert venue. Or playing tee ball at the age of 7 or 8. Or at the age of a few days, that November day on 1970 when he came home from the hospital. I guess I remember him a lot. I miss him even more.
I graduated High School in 1983 at the age of 18. In 1987 when many of my classmates were completing their undergraduate studies I moved to Macomb, Illinois, and began attending Western Illinois University. I saw those years as a time to learn but also an opportunity to be involved in ministry. I came onto campus and became part of the leadership team of the local ragtag chapter of Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship.
Like most campuses, ours had a new student fair each year. I helped man the I-V table. I met many people that day and many signed up for more information. One of those people was an 18-year-old freshman by the name of Frank Charles Rusan the fifth. I don't remember if I met him at the table or later when I visited him in his dorm room. Frank didn't introduce himself as Frank Charles Rusan V, I just remember his middle name because it is also my middle name.
Frank started attending a Bible Study I was leading. He and I became good friends during his time at WIU. Before I met Frank I knew very few people who lived in Chicago even though I grew up in the Chicago suburbs. Frank was the first black person I really got to know. Frank and I both had a vision of breaking the color barriers of our campus's Christian ministries. In his freshman and sophomore year, I visited the campus black church with him on many occasions. The services were much longer and had so many different types of worship than I was used to. I remember singing songs like Jesus is on The Mainline (Tell Him What You Want.).
I remember one day I was in Frank's room after a bible study and I don't remember exactly what he said but the gist was "Dave, you love people, you treat them with respect. You could be black. He meant it and I took it as a compliment. It reminds me now of something that happened a few years after that during my first year as a missionary in Russia. I was in the home of my friend Vladimir. His dad who was also named Vladimir was sitting with us at a table drinking tea with family. Vladimir's dad commented something along the line that with me sitting at the table with them enjoying fellowship with them it was like he had another son. Both those comments reminded me that even though blacks and whites and Russians and Americans have a history of mistrusting each other, true Christian fellowship transcends race and nationality.
Frank graduated from Western in 1991 and we lost track of each other soon after that. From time to time over the years I would think about him and our times together and wonder what he was up to. Every few years I would google him without any success.
Yesterday, my wife, oldest daughter, and I were volunteering for Compassion International by handing out sponsorship packets at an event in Rockford, Illinois. The Event was the 2023 Soar Awards a gospel music awards show. We were about the only white people in attendance.
When you volunteer at an event like this, there is a lot of downtime between responsibilities. During those times I listened to the music emanating from the stage, and started thinking about Frank. I thought this might be the exact kind of place I could run into him. Perhaps in an act of symmetry, he would be manning one of the many ministry tables set up inside the atrium of the theatre. I decided to google Frank and see if I had success locating him this time.
This beautiful tribute page is what alerted me that Frank had died almost 5 years ago. Frank is the third (as for as I know) of friends who I met during my first year at WIU who have passed away. I wish I had reconnected with Frank before he died but I don't feel any deep regret. Reading all the tributes I realized that Frank had continued to be the same type of person he had been in college, faithful, available, teachable, and a person who radiated Christ. There are many testimonies of him caring for people, praying for them, and being genuinely concerned for others. This is the Frank I knew and loved and it brings me solace to know he continued to walk in that way for another quarter of a century before passing on to eternity with God in Heaven.
In the last 3 days of 2022 3 cultural icons, game changers in their respected fields of sports, newscasting, and theology had their lives come to an earthly end. To put it simply there was really no one like either Pele, Barbara Walters or Pope Benedict XVI. Each of their lives were characterized by a passion for their calling that transitioned into being a revered elder statesperson as their journeys continued.
Pele 1940 - 2022
I'm not really trying to tie in the recent deaths of international icons with a book I'm preparing to read. When my Grandfather died in late 1997 I had just proposed to Amy. At the wake, I felt like discussing my engagement would be taking away from the celebration of my Grandpa's life. I remember my Dad encouraging me to talk about it. He said that people needed to be reminded that life goes on even in the midst of death. In the same way, I think making plans for the future and reading up on my future home are good ways for life to go on.
I hope all of you are enjoying a woinderful beginning to your new year.
Love,
Dave.
Dick Allen died earlier this month on December 7,2020 at the age of 78. Allen was the NL rookie of the year for the Philadelphia Phillies in 1964, the year I was born. He played for the White Sox form 1972 to 1974 and was a big part of the reason why I switched allegiances from the Chicago Cubs to their south side counterpart White Sox.
It transpired something like this. My sister was the grade ahead of me at school and achieved straight A's at school one year. Our school had a promotion with the White Sox that if you had straight A's or perfect attendance you would receive 2 vouchers for tickets to a White Sox game. My Dad took my sister to a game and I decided that the next year I would get perfect attendance and he could take me
Sure enough, the next year I had perfect attendance for the first and only time in my academic life. My Dad took me to a game in 1972 or out the roof shots and it was1973 against the Baltimore Orioles. He taught me how to keep score and Dick Allen hit a home run.
From that day on I was a White Sox fan. I watched games on T.V. and listened to the rest on the radio. I even became a country music fan as the White Sox games were broadcast on the local country station. The rest of the family remained Cubs fans (I still like the Cubs because no one told me other wise, ) but my exuberance was for the White Sox. Each year our family took a pilgrimage to Wrigley to watch a game. Each year my Dad found away usually near my birthday to take me to a White Sox game as well.
I liked all the players, Bucky Dent. Wilbur Wood, Jorge Orta, Bill Melton but Allen was by far my favorite. Over the years the players changed but my passion for the White Sox never ebbed. I have had many favorite White Sox players over the years Kessinger, Fisk, Thomas, Buehrle, and Konerko just to name a few, but those fond memories of watching Allen at first base or at the plate never did fully dissipate.
Click here to watch footage of Allen with commentary from teammate Bill Melton. I also have put some video and audio clips of Allen at my vlog, Dave Out Loud.
I was at Old Navy a few months ago and would you believe: They have a mannequin that looks exactly like Princess Puppy? That's just weird!
For more fragments head over to Half Past Kissing Time.