Love

A month or so ago, I was talking to my dad about some of the people that were in their church growing up and one of the men he mentioned was Mr. Bowers - Bob Bowers' uncle. He was a dear, sweet man who literally built the church and the parsonage as well. He was also the person who formed the first fire station in Runnemede. He really was a special man. But, the thing dad remembers was the love he had for his wife. He was older when his beloved wife died, he was heartbroken. He always spoke with such love to her when she was alive and after she passed, he would always cry when speaking of her. Their love was so great. Something about that just touched me and I wanted to share that here on the blog. My grandpa, though not a demonstrative man, loved my grandma that way too. I remember after she passed, dad spoke to him about marrying again and my grandpa insisted that she was the only person he would ever love. I don't doubt that people love like that now, but there seems to be something special about the way people loved back then. So much emphasis is put on the physical today that sometimes they miss out on the soulful connection. Mr. Bowers obviously had that with his wife and my grandpa had that with my grandma. A love that not even 50 yrs and death could diminish. The pictures above are from when they were courting, I believe, and then in their later years. Next time I talk to dad, I'll have him share the story of how they met and all that and share that here with you.

Drills

I spoke a little while ago about dad growing up during the Cold War. And, because they lived on the east coast, they had regular air raid drills. They are fairly similar to our tornado drills out here in the midwest. The sirens would blare for a good solid minute and the kid would shuffle out in the hallways where you would cover your head and crouch down against the wall. That way if they were being attacked, they would hopefully be out of the way of shattering glass and debris. The difference between air raid drills and tornado drills are that it wasn't just for school children. Everyone in town was expected to comply with these drills. So, if he was at home, he had to go into their tiny and I mean TINY, little hallway between the two bedrooms and do the same thing. Knowing personally how small that hallway was, I can't imagine getting 6 people in there for these drills! Anyway, if it was dark outside when these drills went off, the lights in the house had to be shut off. During the day, the blinds would be closed. And, no one was allowed outside during these drills. If someone was found outside, they could be ticketed. If they didn't turn off the lights or close the blinds, they could get a ticket as well. Times were scary back then and the USSR was their enemy. And, these drills were used as a way to get the americans prepared for attack.

(The picture above is not a picture of my dad or anyone he knew. It's just a picture from the early 50s of a classroom of children during a nuclear air raid drill.)

Orchestra

When my dad was a teenager, there was an orchestra in their church. It calls it an orchestra because they had violinists. :-) It was made up of youth kids and it consisted of:

His sister Judi - violin
Kathy Kinders - violin
Dad - trumpet
Bob Bowers - trumpet
Stanley Lentz - clarinet
David Manduka - clarinet
Jane Lentz - flute
Jean Manduka - piano

He said they would play and it would never fail that he and Bob Bowers would start laughing and next thing he'd know the notes would come out a bit stilted, because of their giggles. He said anytime he sat next to Bob, whether it was in the orchestra or just on a pew for service, they would start laughing. He said he was surprisingly immature in those days. Shocking, I know.

Christmas Programs

Every year at Christmas, the kids would put on a Christmas program. In the sanctuary, in the pulpit area, there were thick curtains. And, behind those curtains was a set of doors. For the program, the doors were opened and the kids would do their performance to the joy and adoration of their parents and the other members of the congregation. They would practice for weeks - every Saturday and Sunday afternoon for 4-5 weeks. But they never seemed to get it until the day of the actual performance, when it would miraculously go off without a hitch. They would say their verse, "...which is Christ the LORD." VERY LOUDLY! Well, at least dad said it really loudly. I don't know that at that age, he really understood the whole "indoor voice" thing. Neither does my son though, so it might be genetic. ;-) He said he would see his mom in the audience, mouthing the words along with him. The Christmas program was something they all looked forward to every year.

Noisy

When dad was a kid, there were old pews in the sanctuary. Not like the ones I knew of when I would go there. These were old wooden ones that had splinters and would occasionally grab the back of their pants. Dad didn't like that. But, in the very back of the sanctuary, behind the back pew, were 2 chairs. Normally a pair of brothers - Addison and Kelly Brookfield - would sit there. They walked a very long distance to church each morning and sometimes Sunday night as well. They walked from Garden Terrace, which was pretty far away. Well, those nights they didn't show up, dad and his brother Carl would take those seats. Debbie and Judi would be sitting with their friends, while they sat in those chairs in the back. Since they weren't sitting with their mom, they would get a little noisy. Grandpa would be in the middle of his sermon and say, "Rose, do something." so those boys would quiet down. Let's just say it didn't work very often...or for very long. ;-)

Dirigibles Addendum

Dad called me the other day to let me know he was reading his blog and told me I was, and I quote, "A filthy liar". Apparently in my post about dirigibles I said that they became commonplace and that his fear of them didn't persist. I guess I took that liberty of ASSUMING that he got over that fear, but he did not. He still hates them and is still scared of them. He said he's not scared of Goodyear blimps and that he could quote "beat the crap out of those things", but the big, giant flying dirigibles are still scary. So, I guess it's better that everyone knows he's a 62 yr old wuss, so I'm not a "filthy liar". ;-) You're welcome.

Sweetness

Like I said in the previous post, dad had his less than shining moments in his childhood, but he also had his sweet moments. Now, when dad was a kid there were lots of "mom and pop" stores in the downtown area. Grocery stores to be precise. He listed off 6-7 just off the top of his head. "One on every corner," he said. There was also a stable that used to house horses that burnt down one night, killing 4-5 horses as well as the stable master. When that burned down, and A&P opened in its place. The A&P was a big grocery store and those little mom and pop shops couldn't compete with its prices, so slowly all those little shops closed down. Well, dad used to go up to the A&P and put ladies' shopping carts away for them. He would go up to a lady in the parking lot and say, "Can I put that cart away for you?" and they'd thank him and give him a nickel or a dime or something like that. Dad would do that quite often and when he got a collection of those coins, he'd go uptown to buy little figurines at Mrs. Sturdivent, at the top of 3rd Ave. She had a small little store on the back porch area of her house. These little figurines cost .49 a piece, so he would have to put a lot of carts away in order to get one of these and he'd usually buy a little rabbit. Then he'd take these little rabbits and give them to women in the church that he liked. Women like Mrs. Dunn, Mrs. Bowers, Aunt Blanche, and his mom too, of course. One time he even rode his bike up to the "Good News Club" where he had a nice teacher and gave her one as well. So, even though he was an ornery stinker a lot of the time, he also had a sweet spot and he used that sweetness to charm those ladies, so it would help soften them up for the next time he did something that got him in trouble. :-)

What did he say?!

Every year at Christmas, the Sunday School teachers would give their kids gifts. One year dad's teacher Mrs Kay Dunn gave him a small plastic plane and a cowboy-style handkerchief. Dad, being the snot that he was, threw the plane down and said "I don't want!" and stomped away. Grandma was MORTIFIED (as any mother of a horribly ungrateful child would be)! He, of course, got in big trouble when he got home, but a few days later, he was playing at Phil Musimaci's house and played with that little plane all afternoon. Really having a good time with it. It was pretty cool after all! So, he very humbly went back to church on Sunday, found Mrs. Dunn and told her that he played with that plane at Phil's house and really liked it. And, bless Mrs. Dunn, she looked at him with a smile and said "Thank you, Mark." and let it end at that.

Services

One thing I learned in talking with my dad about Mt Calvary was how many times they actually were IN church! Now, I feel like I'm at my church a lot and growing up felt I was at every function and every service at that church, but I don't think even that compared to how many times my dad found himself in church. The had so many opportunities to worship back then, which is something rarely found today. There was always Sunday School and normal Sunday morning service as well as Sunday evening service. There was also prayer meetings on Wednesdays and youth groups. But, they also had many special services throughout the year. For New Year's Eve they had a service where they would pray in the new year. Isn't that wonderful?! I love that idea! The kids would be in the basement, eating donuts and hot cocoa. Maybe playing a little ping-pong or something, while the adults met upstairs. Then when midnight would roll around they would either be on their knees praying or having communion. Dad said it wasn't until college that he actually was up and out in the streets to experience New Year's Eve the way most of us normally do. They would have a Thanksgiving service from 10-11 and another one in the evening as a time of praise and thankfulness. He did say though, by the time everyone had their turkey, they were all pretty sleepy for that evening service. ;-) Every Good Friday from 12-3 my grandpa, Father Dawson, and Rev. Lott (both from other churches) would get together and perform a service together. Always talking about the 7 words on the cross. This is something they did each and every year for many years. Then grandpa would give an evening service that night as well. I think hearing all that makes me realize even more what a testament to the love of Christ my grandpa, and grandma too for that matter, had. And, the desire he had to offer his congregation the opportunity to worship together and often. And, you know my grandma was right by his side the entire time. Our lives are often so busy we don't take the time to give praise and thankfulness to God like we ought to. We don't take time off to pray in the new year or listen to the story of the cross on our day off. I'm sure there were many times that dad got tired of going to church all the time. I know I did as a kid. But, to still have that foundation and knowledge and love given to you, before he even really knew to appreciate it is something in itself to be thankful for.

Bribery

In order for Miss Dodge to get my dad to behave better and do his work in Children's Church, she pulled him aside one day and told him she would give him a nickel if he learned the 100th Psalm. Well, heck!, a nickel was a lot back then, so he set to work to memorize that Psalm. He worked really hard and learned it and recited it to Miss Dodge and got his nickel. She realized this was the way to encourage my dad, so she continued to give him verses to memorize, all with the promise of a nickel if he did. He learned several verses this way. I didn't ask him if Miss Dodge lived long enough to see him become a pastor, but I wonder if those verses he memorized to get those nickels were verses he remembered and used when he was in college and later seminary and if she realized that she planted that seed all those years ago just in her attempt to get a little, ornery boy to do his lessons at church.

Children's Church

The picture above is the church my grandpa pastored for over 50 years. This little church called Mount Calvary had a ground floor and a basement. That was it. It had a sanctuary on the ground floor with a larger room in the back, a bathroom, and another small room beside the bathroom. When I was a kid that room was full of my grandpa's books, but I believe dad told me it was used at that time as a Sunday School classroom. Then, you would walk downstairs at the back of the church to get to the basement. This was a large room with heavy curtain dividers to section it off. The area you walked into immediately at the bottom of the stairs, they sectioned off for children's church. A very old Miss Josephine Dodge and her sister Miss Camilla Dodge ran the children's church during dad's time in there. They were spinsters who lived on Blackhorse Pike by the Wentzels. Dad said their favorite song was "I Met Jesus at the Crossroads" and they sang it every week - which dad used as the opportunity to sing it to me as well ... in its entirety. Even after I begged him to stop. Now the teachers would scotch tape something under one chair in the room and if you were good, they would call on your name to look under your chair to see if they had something under there. If they did, they got to sit in the gold chair the next week and get a lollipop. Dad sometimes had that tag under his chair, but he never won the prize. Why, you ask? Because he was never good, therefore never got his name called. He said he could tell me stories of some of the things he and his brother Carl would do to aggravate his teachers, so I think I'll have to post about those some time soon. :-)

*Thanks to Aunt Judi for the picture I was able to copy from her blog

http://www.runnemederemembered.blogspot.com/

Mount Calvary Union Church

Mount Calvary Union Church is the church that my grandfather was the minister at for over 50 years. Only ending his ministry when he was physically unable to do it anymore at the age of 88. It's a quaint little church just down the sidewalk from my grandparents' house. There's something about that church that just brings a smile to my face. Though we only would visit my grandparents once a year, I have many memories - snippets of things - that I remember about that place. They will be celebrating the 100th anniversary of that church next year sometime, so I asked my dad to share some memories of that little church that he called home for all of his young life. I asked him to list some of the people he knew over the years that came into his life during his life and he started listing off names of people, sharing brief stories about each of them. Going almost so quickly, that I couldn't keep up! Here are some of the people he mentioned...

Bill and Marion Manduka

Bob and Hazel Fisher

Paul and Vi Turner

Ben and Peg Wallace

Mr. and Mrs. Perozzi

Mr. and Mrs. Youngblood

El and Blanche Wentzel

Axel and Hulda Aspling (they referred to them as "grandma" and "grandpa")

Mrs. Nordt

Mrs. Haines

Mr. and Mrs. Harris

Mr. and Mrs. Krudwig

Mr. and Mrs. White

Mr. and Mrs. Kenders

These were just a few of the names I caught and was able to write down. In the stories he told, that I'll post about later, you'll hear more of the names of people that touched his life in many, many ways. Some of whom even I remember meeting and witnessing the deep love they had for my dad and my mom and my grandparents. This little church housed a great many people over the years, though it is small in size, and touched each and every one of them in one way or another. I'm not sure when the picture above was taken, but that is the front of the church, with my grandpa standing on the steps. I look forward to getting back there again sometime soon and walking down the little sidewalk to the church steps like I did when we would visit. Just wish that that little trip would be made after getting ready in my grandparents' house, with grandpa walking around, making sure dad was speaking out of a KJ bible and not the NIV, which dad would always tease him about. I miss that time. But, the church still stands as a testament to both my grandfather and the wonderful people of Runnemede that made it such a special place to worship the Lord.

Dirigibles

Lakehurst Naval Air Station was the landing grounds for dirigibles back in the 1950s. And, Lakehurst was just 15-20 miles north of Runnemede. Dad can still remember clearly seeing those dirigibles coming from a distance and as it flew in, it got lower in the sky, because it was approaching it's landing strip out at the station. Now you might be picturing the Goodyear blimp like we see flying over football stadiums and baseball games, but that's not what these were. These were mammoth flying ships - HUGE, amazing pieces of engineering. Dad said it was like they flew right over the house and would black out the sky with its enormity! Now this was during the Cold War, so in dad's young mind, it was like a huge Russian missile was approaching and it would oftentimes scare him. But, they became very commonplace and that fear didn't persist. He said he would see these things almost weekly, fly in from a distance, decend as it got closer. and fly overheard on its way to the naval station and was always an amazing sight. The picture above is of one of these flying ships as it ascended from the naval yard back in 1959.

The Lumberyard

When my dad was 7 yrs old, he was at an evening service at church when he heard the fire sirens go off outside. Because Runnemede at the time only had a volunteer fire department, several of the men in the congregation left quickly. Dad said it was either fall or winter, because it was already dark outside at the time. Though many looked around, wondering what the fire sirens could mean, they stayed and finished out the service. It wasn't until the service was over that he began to hear a commotion outside, followed by his brother Carl running in the church crying. Dad immediately ran out the front doors of the church to see what was going on. As soon as he stepped outside he was greeted by a wall of red. The sky had filled with the glowing sky from a fire at the lumberyard just a little over a block away. He had never seen anything like it and was scared to death! He said he was convinced that Satan was coming for all of them on a ball of fire. The fire was so intense that the sky was just bright red from the thing. After his mom assured them that they would be ok, they went home and got into bed. The fire still raging into the night. The next morning, they woke up and the fire was out, but he said that memory of that moment when he stepped outside the church doors is as vivid today as it was then - the glowing red sky of that massive fire.

The First Ball Game

When dad told me this story a couple months ago, I was holding on to it, because he wanted to have me do a talky blog with it. He thought it would better explain his experience. But, we've both been so overly busy, I haven't been able to get any new stories. So, I figured I might as well post it and do a talky blog about it later to add more of his ideas to the story. Here is dad's recollection of his very first major league baseball game experience...

As many of you know, by 1959 Dad was deeply in love with the sport of baseball. He had started getting into it a couple years previous to that. So, by 1959 he was obsessed completely with the game. He was a HUGE Phillies fan and listened to every game on the radio, cheering on his favorite players and occasionally getting to watch a game on their little b/w tv. On Aug 18, 1959 dad was invited to go a Phillies game at Connie Mack Stadium with David Wallace, Phil Musumaci, and the David's dad Ben. Ben paid for everything in fact, so that my dad could go. Now, Philadelphia is known as the city of concrete and steel. You drive into it and it's not particularly pretty. There are smoke stacks and buildings and it's fairly dirty. Not a lot of grass and plantings around. Well, they arrived at the stadium and walked in on the ground level, having to climb up to get to Grand Stand level. He said what happened next was perhaps the most sensual experience of his life - and by "sensual" he means "sense-heightening". Don't think I didn't raise my eyebrow when he said that. ;-) Anyway, when he walked out into the stands, he was immediately greeted by massive color. Green lawns, red uniforms (they were playing the Cincinnati Red Legs, so they had red uniforms too), browns dirt, etc... The players he had loved and watched on his small b/w tv were now it full form, in living color, right in front of his eyes. The smells of the stadium like cigar smoke, hot dogs, all permeated the air. The feeling he had inside as he looked around and experienced this whole arena was indescribable. You have to remember that his life was centered around baseball. He lived and breathed the sport. No one he knew loved it like he did. Collected full baseball card sets like he did. And, here he was living his dream basically by sitting in the stands at the ball field, ready to see his heroes play in front of his eyes. The game started off being very exciting. The Phils were up 8-0 very early in the game, but eventually lost 14-11. Though the outcome wasn't what he had hoped, the experience of that very first ball game is seared into his senses and as real today as it was then. He's been to many ball games since, but none quite as amazing as his first back on that summer day in August of 1959.

Good Grief, I Missed Dad's Birthday!

August 23rd, 1947 - John Mark Drexler was born. August 23rd, 2009 - His oldest daughter (me!) totally forgets to post about it on the blog. Doh! Yes, dad's 62nd birthday was last Sunday and sadly it was not his favorite birthday. Why, you ask? Simple answer - no pie. I called him on his birthday to see how it went and all he did for that 20 min conversation was go on and on about the fact that no one gave him any pies. I began to question him on this, knowing full well that answer I was about to receive would just make me laugh and shake my head at his insanity, but I just had to know what he meant about the pies. In his old age, he has become more shameless than ever before. Blatantly telling his congregation, truly anyone who would listen, for weeks prior to his birthday that all he wanted for his birthday was pie. And, since his birthday fell on a Sunday, he woke up that morning, expecting to come home with 6-7 pies that he could enjoy that afternoon when he got home. This was not to be, because most logical people thought, "Surely this man isn't bold enough to ask us outright for pies. He must be joking." They were wrong. I asked him, "Did you get any well wishes or anything?" Oh, yes, he got many cards, lots of birthday wishes, even candy and a couple gifts, but was he satisfied. Of course not, because all he wanted was pie. The days following, he continued to complain about his lack of pies. So much so that 3 different people that week provided him with pies. This calmed the beast inside of him and he was much happier. Fully able now to enjoy his cards and gifts from the kind people of his church. I tell you this story, not just for an opportunity to mock my father, which is indeed one of my favorite things to do, but also to give you a glimpse into the life of my father that began back in 1947. Through the stories he shares with me, that I in turn share with you, you can see that he was quite an ornery child. Always full of humor, but definitely a bit rambunctious. That humor and craziness has not died down as he's gotten older. If anything it has gotten worse and more hilarious. So yes, I forgot to post about his birthday and am here now posting a week late. But, as you can see, I got so caught up in his silly pie escapade, that it completely slipped my mind. But, I share with you now some pictures, not previously posted here, of my dad when he was a kid.



This is one my favorites of his early years. Such an absolute cutie. No one would've suspected that he would one day grow up and take knives to the door frames of his kitchen in an attempt to be Ramar of the Jungle.

Here he is in kindergarten. I do believe that little unevenness in his hair was caused by his attempt to cut it that morning, if I'm not mistaken. Think he looks a little like my Noah here. :-)

Here he is with his 2 older sisters. Ready to enjoy the winter cold.

And, a teenager, playing his most beloved game of baseball. Who one day would forego all his wishes and dreams for just a few moments of pie nearly half a century later. Love you dad and hope your next birthday is filled with everything you want and more!

What a Game!

My dad used to LOVE the Phillies. I mean really truly loved them. He would listen to them on his little pink radio every single time they played. And, he would look forward to hearing about the players and everything that had to do with the team. Now, they weren't really a good team sadly, but that didn't keep him from wanting to cheer them on and listen to them religiously when they were playing. When he was 14 yrs old, his brother Carl had gotten into a bit of trouble. He had cursed out a lady that was in a parking lot and got himself arrested, because back in the late '50s/early 60s you didn't curse out a women, even if it was South Jersey. Gramps had to go get him out of jail and he was, as you can imagine, not happy. And, when Gramps was upset, the kids got punished. Dad's in his bedroom, listening to the game on his radio when he hears his dad and brother return. He then hears his dad say, "You're going to take this." and heard Carl start getting spanked. And, back then, you didn't just use the back of your hand. You used an instrument of some sort. It wasn't fun. Because it hurt, his brother Carl was trying to get away from Grandpa and the commotion was getting louder. Dad was leaning closer to the radio, so he could keep hearing the game over the sounds in the kitchen. The Phillies, who were losing 4-1 in the 9th, were beginning to rally and he didn't want to miss a thing! He was thrilled!!! But, as the game gets more exciting, he begins to notice the noise from the kitchen getting louder and louder and before he knows it Carl is running through the room and runs up the stairs, crying all the way. Grandpa is now in his room with the whip in his hand, just holding it and starts staring at dad. Dad knew if he moved a single muscle, he would end up seeing the other end of that whip, so he sits perfectly still by that radio - not wanting his dad's anger at his brother to shift to him! As he sits there like a statue, he hears the Phillies pull off the victory. Bottom of the 9th, they end up winning 5-4!! He's screaming inside with joy, wanting to jump up and down and yell out in excitement, but continues to not say anything or move a single muscle until Grandpa leaves the room. He was so mad at his brother that night for ruining such a great game for him!

Christmastime

Every year Santa would set up a booth in Freddy's parking lot, a local bar. They would climb up into this booth, sit on Santa's lap, and tell him what they wanted. Then he would give you a candy cane. Not a little candy cane, like you often see today, but a large candy cane. When dad was a teenager, he would go up there just to get that candy cane. Santa was on to him by then though, because as soon as dad would walk up there, Santa would just hand him the cane. He wouldn't bother asking what he wanted for Christmas. Just knew he was there for the cane. :-) Anyway, there was a time where, if you told them where you lived and stuff, they would bring Santa around in a firetruck and he would bring you one of the things you asked for. How awesome is that?! They didn't do it every year or anything, but the few times they did were memorable ones for my dad.

Great Guy

There was a man who lived on a great sledding hill in Runnemede when dad was growing up. He was a cab driver in Philadelphia and always had change in his pocket. Sadly, dad can't remember his name, but it was like Mr. Morris or something like that. He was such a nice man and always so nice to the kids. Whether they came to sled at his house or just see them on the street, he was always kind. Now, because he was a cab driver, he always seemed to have loose change on him. And, he would give his coins to the kids. Dad said whenever they would see him, they would quite literally RUN to him, to see if he would give them money. He used to ask the kids, "How's your mother?". "Good," they'd reply. "How's your father?". "Good." "Have you been good?" he'd ask. And, of course the reply was always, "Oh, yes!". ;-) He would smile at them and pull out a coin for them. He'd give them a nickel or a dime - sometimes even a quarter! - and to little kids in the '50s any of those coins were terrific! Heck, a quarter was like winning the lotto to them! Like dad in an earlier blog, a dime would buy a pack of cards. So, that was big time for them. This man was never married, never had kids of his own, but was so generous and kind to the kids in the neighborhood and dad has never forgotten was a great guy he was. :-)

Coal

When dad was a kid, their house was heated by a huge coal furnace in the basement and every couple of weeks (he thinks) the coal truck would come and dump a load of coal into this little walled off area by the furnace. This little room would hold all the coal that Gramps would then shovel into the furnace each day. Dad said they never went down to the basement when the truck was unloading its coal, because Gramps told them if they did, they'd be buried in coal and they'd never be able to find them again (Don't you see why I love my Grandpa? His sense of humor cracks me up!). Sometimes they'd be brave enough to stand on the bottom stair and watch it unload. Then, once it was dumped and the truck was gone, he and his brother Carl would climb the mountain of coal, getting completely filthy. And, poor grandma had to clean them up every time.

Did He Deserve It?

When dad's sister Judi was about 13 yrs old, she came running frantically into the house, screaming, "Mommy! Mommy!" My dad was scared to death. Convinced that whatever it was that made Judi freak out like that had to be horrific! He thought for sure his dad had had a heart attack or something awful like that. Dad comes running out to see what happened and he hears his sister tell his mom, "Diddle tried to run me over with his bike!" ("Diddle" was her nickname for their little brother Carl). So all this commotion, that led him to believe his father had met his early demise, was just his little brother torturing his sister - apparently a fairly common occurrence. He got so mad at Carl for causing all this anxiety in him, that he promptly went out and beat him up. Just to make sure he knew not to scare him like that again! ;-)

Suicide Hill

There was a place down a ways from dad's house called "Suicide Hill". He took me there once when I was a kid, but it didn't look the same as it did when he was little. When he was a kid, there was a cluster of trees in front of it. Like a small wooded area, then a steep drop-off after that. When the NJ turnpike had been built, they had all this extra dirt that they piled up, making this large hill. As the rain waters came, it washed out part of the hill, making it super steep, with large and deep crevices - making it quite dangerous. Thus the title "Suicide Hill". Just the place for boys to ride their bikes, of course!! They would also throw tires down the hill and watch as they hopped down, rolling into the ditches and popping back up again. Or, if it went down just right, it would hop over the ravines. When they rode their bikes down it, they would keep the brakes on the whole time, so they wouldn't go too fast, that way they could have better control and avoid falling into the ditches and hop over the sandy parts that would stop you dead in your tracks and throw you from your bike. And always they would stop before they got too far down at the bottom of the hill, because there was a large, 12' deep crevice at the end that would cause serious harm to anyone who fell in, so they would ride their brakes and stop before they'd get there. And, once they got to the end, they'd walk around to the side that wasn't as steep, carry their bikes up, and do it all over again! Now, dad and Carl's bike was this old metal, springy thing, that wasn't very fast. It was ok, but not really great for riding down Suicide Hill. Their sister Judi's bike, however, was a dream! Yes, it was a girl's bike, but it was fast! One day when Judi was off doing something else, dad and Carl decided to "borrow" her bike and take it to Suicide Hill. Dad wanted to see how much faster he could go with her bike. Now, not a lot of kids rode their bikes down this hill. It was just too dangerous, but dad - being the daredevil that he is - decided to give it a go. Dad started going down the hill, his friends at the top cheering him on, riding his brakes like he was supposed to. Now, I mentioned above how there were sandy patches you had to avoid. It was actually one sandy patch and you had to let go of your brakes to ride through it or you would be flipped from your bike. The timing had to be just right. Now, I don't know if dad got too carried away with the thrill of riding his sister's super-fast bike or if the cheers from his friends got to his head, but he was a little delayed in letting off the brakes when he got to this part and he was flipped off the seat of the bike, landing not to gently on the girl's part of the bike. It caused a great amount of discomfort, but not enough discomfort to distract him from the fact that he now was barrelling down Suicide Hill without the aid of brakes! He tried dragging his feet to slow himself down, but it wasn't working. He was just going faster and faster, the large 12' ravine getting closer and closer. He was convinced at this point he was either going to 1. fall in the ravine and get seriously injured or 2. fall in the ravine and kill himself! Neither one was a very favorable option. One foot from the ravine, he finally got that bike to stop. Literally one foot from certain death, as he put it. He said it was surely an act of God that he stopped at that point, because he was so out of control. Why he didn't make himself crash by tipping the bike over, I'll never know. But, he made it. He said the rush of adrenalin was overpowering! He was exhilarated and scared to death at the same time. His buddies shouted down to see if he was ok. In a falsetto voice (remember he landed on the bar earlier) he called up that he was fine and when he got back up to the top of the hill, they all checked to see if he was good and he shook it off, enjoying the glory from his crazy bike ride. After all the excitement, his little brother Carl wanted to give it a shot. Dad was so scared that Carl would have the same experience he did that he refused to let him do it. Even threatening to beat him up if he tried. That was the last time he, or any of his friends that he knew of, ever went down that hill.

Talky Blog - Part 3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UtH5VdkhvQ

This is the last of the talky blogs I did with dad. This is the end of our conversation about his favorite players and a little story of bitterness directed at his sister Debbie for being responsible for keeping him from one of the greatest moments in history. ;-) Enjoy!

Talky Blog - Part 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6L2uAXLWbCc

Here is part 2 of my conversation with dad about his baseball card collecting and his favorite players. Again, you may want to wait for it to download a bit before you start watching it, so it doesn't keep stopping on you.

Talky Blog - Part 1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLEq2V5GLww

Well, after many attempts at uploading the videos directly on here, I decided to upload them to youtube and post the link here. This is the first part of our conversation on why and how dad started collecting baseball cards in the late 50s. You may have to wait until it downloads a while before you start playing it or it'll keep stopping on you. Enjoy!

Freedom to Play

Times were so much different than they are today. And, I don't think it's more evident than in the way kids play today. Today there are scheduled playdates. Calls made to parents, notes sent home from school, etc... All in an effort to get kids to play with other kids. It wasn't like that in the 1950s. Kids ran around and played with other kids from the neighborhood from sunrise to sunset. Dad had a group of kids he played with for many years. All within a few blocks from his house. This group consisted of Butchie Briton - who was the oldest and toughest in the group, Eddie Hopkins, Jimmy and Oliver Bathhurst, Phil Musmaci, Phil DePetro, Rocky Cennio (he was only there for a couple of years, but they became really good friends), Dave Wallace, Don Beavers, and Bob Hassick. His brother Carl would play with them many times as well. And the two girls of the bunch were his sister Debbie and Eddie's sister, Faye. That's a large group of kids! I can't imagine seeing a group that size playing together nowadays. But, play they did. They played hide-and-go-seek, kick the can, manhunt, cowboys and indians and, of course, any variation of baseball they could think of. This was a close-knit group of friends who didn't have to wait for their parents to set up playdates or worry about having a guardian there to babysit them. They would race out the door to go to a buddy's house or head to the playground across the street and enjoy the freedom and fun of just playing together. What an innocent time it was back then.

How My Dad Met My Mom

I asked the kids what story they wanted to hear about from their grandpa and Madie wanted to know how dad met mom. So, here's the story:

Dad was a freshman at Philadelphia College of Bible and his friend Ron Roberts was friends with mom. Her name was "Roper" and his was "Roberts", so they sat next to each other in several classes and were friends. So, towards the end of dad's freshman year, he had been introduced to and started to get to know mom. They went away for the summer, didn't correspond or anything, but when their sophmore year started, they became better friends. Mom was dating a friend of dad's named Cruiser Baxter and dad briefly dated mom's roommate, but mom and dad just sort of hit it off and would pal around together and really just had a great friendship. Towards the end of their sophmore year both mom and dad went to an end of the year campout for all the sophmore class. It was a small class of about 150 and the chaperone was mom's roommate's brother who was studying to become a minister. He decided to do a mock wedding ceremony to practice and dad asked mom if she would be in the wedding with him. She said yes, so this guy mock-married mom and dad. When they got back to school that Monday, dad would call her "wife" (something he still does to this day) and even got her a little fake ring, which she wore. She would write him notes signing them "from your wife" and dad would write her notes saying "your husband John". Even though they were dating other people, they continued to write during the summer and dad said he looked so forward to letters from her. They were falling in love through their letters and not even really realizing it. :-) A couple months after they returned to school, mom said to him, "Are you ever going to ask me out?" "Well, sure." he said and he invited her to come back to his hometown of Runnemede (since he was a commuter) to go to a football game at his old high school on Nov. 2, 1968. Now, because this was a conservative christian college, they weren't allowed to touch, but after they got off school property and made their way to the bus stop, dad reached over and started holding her hand. And, she let him. They took the bus to his house and he introduced her to the family. He said Grandpa loved her instantly and she just fit right in, helping around the house and everything. When he said goodnight to her that night, he told her he had a wonderful time and said goodbye. No kiss or anything. And, she said the same. That night he couldn't sleep. He realized he loved her. They dated 2 more years after that. He proposed to her before he left for seminary and they got married after his freshman year at Grace, in 1971. They just celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary last month and it all started with a mock wedding in 1968.

Gotta Love our Moms :-)

His mom used to get him very practical gifts as a child. Socks, shirts, etc… Usually some type of clothes. A young boy does NOT like clothes, so he was never particularly happy with those gifts. His Aunt Anne asked him every year what he wanted for his birthday and every time he would say, "Anything but clothes." Yet, every year she too would give him clothes. Well, one year his Aunt Francis, his mom’s other sister, gave him $2. $2!!! That was HUGE in the 1950s! It was like $20 today. When his allowance at that time was 10 cents, $2 was unbelievable!! His mom saw that he got that money and said, "Here, I’ll take care of this for you." And she went out and bought him socks with it. SOCKS! Like he said, "I could’ve bought 2 boxes of baseball cards with that money and she bought me socks!!". He said he still hasn’t forgiven her for that. Poor guy.

Creative!

Gramps could obviously be very creative when it came to Christmas presents. There was the ashtray incident I spoke of earlier. And, then another year it was a certain reminder of an earlier mishap with one of his kids. Dad’s brother Carl had a tendency to get in trouble and find mischief at every turn. One time he had decided to jump off his friend’s porch and accidentally broke his arm in the process. Well, that Christmas one of Carl’s presents was his x-ray. "Since your xray cost so much, we figured we’d give it to as a gift." Gramps told him. I love his sense of humor!

Thank You For Not Smoking

As I said in the entry below, there was a Christmas where dad didn't get off as lucky as he did that year. One Christmas he ended up with only a single present. And, it was definitely NOT what he asked Santa for. He was about 11, maybe 12 at the oldest, and all summer he and his brother had taken to smoking. There was an empty lot across the street next to the school and they would climb up the tree, hide there and smoke and curse and do things they thought made them extra cool. Well, one day in September, their sister Debbie was supposed to come get them and have them come home for supper. Well, she saw them smoking and said, "I saw what you did and I'm telling!". Plus, little did they know, but their mom had also seen them. They went home for supper, fully expecting to be in HUGE amounts of trouble from their dad, but he didn't say a word. Hmm... they thought.... maybe Debbie didn't rat us out after all. And, it was apparent that their mom hadn't said anything either, because nothing was said that night or many, many nights to follow. They got away with it! Four months later, Christmas rolls around. It was Christmas Eve night and my dad and his brother and sisters opened their presents on Christmas Eve in the evenings after supper, instead of Christmas morning. His dad would always bring out bags that had their presents in them. And, dad said that Gramps always gave them toys and cool stuff, where as their mom would give them socks and shirts and things like that. So, the time had come when Gramps brought out the bags. They were excited to see what great things he got them that year. As they were handed the gift, wrapped up in paper, they quickly opened it to see what they got. Inside they didn't find the newest baseball game or a new truck. No. Instead, both Carl and Dad opened up their gift to find an ashtray inside. "Thought you got away with it, didn't you?" Grandpa said to them. They were shocked! After all those months of nothing, they thought surely their summer indiscretions were just a thing of the past and here the product of their deeds was sitting in their hands. They cried and cried as they realized that they had been caught and that their punishment was a Christmas without presents. Only a single ashtray to last for another 365 days. At their weeping, their mom said, "Oh Carl, give them their presents." Gramps had gotten them REAL presents that year, but the point had been made. Dad still isn't sure if his mom or his sister told his dad about what they saw. But whoever did was responsible for helping aid his dad in making a very lasting impression on a 11 yr old that Christmas Eve back in the late '50s. Something he still remembers over half a century later.

Spit Wads

That same year dad was suspended from school. This teacher, that I mentioned in the previous entry, thought that if she needed the class’ attention, all she had to do was stand at the front of the class with her arms crossed and that they would settle down. Well, obviously that didn’t work and soon they were causing all sorts of ruckuses. Just a day before Christmas break was to start, dad was taking jaw breaker boxes, chewing them up, and making spit wads, which he was spitting across the room. Another teacher, Mrs. Forneron was walking by and saw him do this. As she walked into class, he spit one and it actually hit her on the left breasticle (as he points out). She immediantely called him out to the hall and was talking to him about these spit wads. Well, as any young NJ boy would talk, he answered her questions with "Yea". "Yes, Ma’m" she would correct him in saying. Well, he didn’t catch on and after he answered with a few more "yea’s",. she decided that he just needed to go home. A half day left before christmas break and he was being suspended for spit wads. Well, she called his dad and told him that "Mark was being sent home early". Which meant, gramps had to walk through the snow 1 mile to pick up dad for being "disruptive". Dad said that walk home was a nightmare. There was no talking, only silence and he knew what was going to happen when he walked in that door. He said Gramps was so mad at him that after his painful punishment he told him he wasn’t getting Christmas that year. Dad panicked! He did everything he could to help his mom out after that, just hoping that she would intercede on his behalf. He helped her finish up the Christmas decorating, anything he could to get on her good side. Well, it must’ve worked, because Gramps recanted and dad got to have his Christmas presents after all. There was a Christmas though, where he wasn’t quite as lucky…. I’ll post about THAT next.

Compass Anyone?

The first year dad was a freshman – yes, he was a freshman twice – he was probably only 4’8", 87 lbs. A tiny little guy. He was in class. Patricia Dunbar sat on his right and Sandy Shepherd sat on his left. He describes Sandy as being a pretty big girl. Several inches taller than he was, as well as several pounds. Anyway, Patricia and her friend Diana Tursi were playing the "Flip the Skirt" game. He said they had both gone to catholic school the year before and were wearing these plaid skirts and to a 15 yr old, plaid skirts and a flip the skirt game were quite enticing to watch. Well, apparently Sandy didn’t like dad watching this and he felt a punch in his left leg. He looks down and finds a compass sticking out of his leg. Sandy had stabbed him!!! He raises his hand and the teacher comes back and he says, "Sandy stabbed me in the leg with her compass!". "Well, what did you do to her?" the teacher asked. Do to her?!! She stabbed me! The teacher walked off and he was left to pull the compass out of his leg and hand it back to Sandy – which he said scared him, because he wasn’t sure what else she’d do with it!

Alberta

Alberta was my grandpa’s cousin. She was really the only relative that Grandpa had – or liked for that matter. Alberta was probably a good 10 yrs younger than Grandpa, but because he didn’t have any brothers or sisters, they were very close. Which meant, Alberta was very close to his family – my dad and his siblings. He says that she was by far their favorite cousin! Why you ask? Well, because every time she would come visit them, she would bring bags of toys for them. Every time! Alberta was single until her late 40s/early 50s and never had children of her own, so she would give all that love to the Drexler kids. She was a secretary at a law firm in Philly and when she would come to visit them, she would take a bus. Dad said he and his brother and sisters would sit on the top step of their house, when they knew Alberta was coming, and wait for her to come. Every time a bus would drive by, they’d look to see if it was her bus. Then, as soon as they saw her walking towards them, they’d run up to her and help her carry the bags she brought. Because, as dad says, she would bring grocery bags full of toys for them. Whether it was Christmas time or the middle of May. She would bring them something and they loved her for it!

Clorox Bin Basketball

Another game that he would play by himself was all about basketball. He was 14 yrs old when he was down in the basement one time, playing a game of basketball, using an old Clorox plastic tub. He’d play this all the time, using a tennis ball as his basketball. He’d pretend he was either the Bulls or the 76ers or some great time he liked. And, he said he got so good, that he could hit a jump shot from almost anywhere in that basement and make the basket. Unfortunately there’s not a lot of call for Clorox bin basketball players. But, anyway, this particular night, he was downstairs playing and his dad turned the basement light off on him and locked the door. So, he stumbled his way out the basement door to the outside – where it was pouring down rain – and went to the front door and started banging. Gramps opened the door, "What’s going on?" "You turned the light off and locked me in the basement!". "Oh," gramps said with a smirk. ;-) So, dad goes to the basement, and tries to turn the light on, but it won’t turn on. When gramps had turned the light off, dad tried to turn it back on by throwing his tennis ball at it and somehow did something to it to make it not want to turn back on again. So, dad, who as you remember is soaked from walking outside in the rain, decides to unscrew the light bulb – while the switch is turned out – with his soaking wet bare feet. And, obviously the concluding effect was that he was shocked REALLY badly! Enough to make all the lights flicker and send him reeling! He walked back upstairs, scared and disoriented and went up to his mom for a hug. He said all he wanted at that point was a hug from his mom, after something that scary. And, Gramps, in true fashion, went up to him and gave him a flashlight and said, "Use this next time." ;-)

King of the Fence

I’ve found in my many discussions with dad, that he talked to himself A LOT! He was very content to play by himself and would talk to himself and make up friends and stories to fit in with whatever he was playing. When he was maybe 11 or 12, he would play a game called "King of the Fence". Across the street from their house was the elementary school called "Downing School". On the right side of the school yard, between the school yard and the house next to it was a fence. It was about 20’ high and he would play this game there. He’d take his wiffle bat and a rubber ball and hit it against the fence. He would do this all day long and if he hit the ball a certain place, it would be a home run or a double or whatever. And, he would announce – out loud! – the game he was playing. "Richie Ashburn is up to bat, hitting. 297 this year, No home runs, but 93 hits this year.." And, this is how he would spend a lot of his time. I’ve always asked him if he hadn’t become a minister, what would’ve been his dream job and he said he would have loved to be a baseball announcer. And, seeing that he started that when he was so young, I can see how great he would’ve been at that.

Don't Hit a Girl

When my dad was in 3rd or 4th grade, he was old enough to have heard from his dad many times to "never hit a girl". So, one day when he was outside of the school, a girl named Gwen was standing near him and he said something to her. He doesn’t remember what it was exactly. Probably something crude, he said, and she hauled off and slapped him in the face! He was in shock, but said to her, "I can’t hit you" – thinking back to those words his father shared with him. "Oh really?" she said and she slapped him again. Well, now it was starting to hurt and he was getting upset, but again he replied, "I can’t hit you". Every time he said this, she’d slap him and he said she must have slapped him 5-6 times before walking away. The crowd around them had gathered and were taunting him. Mortified that he was just beat up by a girl – in front of a crowd of his peers, he walked home crying. When he got home, he burst through the front door, "I can’t believe you told me not to hit a girl!!" he railed at his dad. Somehow thinking if he could blame his dad for getting himself beat up by a girl that it would seem better somehow. "Well, get back out there and hit her back" he heard his dad say. Really? he thought? Wow. So, he went outside and waited in the bushes for her to walk past. He told himself that when she walked past, he would jump out of the bushes, beat her up, and run away. It was a perfect plan. He continued talking to himself, getting himself all ready for his sweet revenge. That is, until he realized a good hour or two had passed, the sun was setting, and she had never walked by. He realized that his revenge would never come and he finally resigned himself to go home, once again defeated. He never did get revenge on Gwen. But, knowing that she was a good foot taller and several pounds heavier than he was, it was probably for the best that he kept his distance. No sense in getting beat up by a girl twice!

Uncle Joe Egitto 1915-2009

This is a picture of my dad's Uncle Joe. He had two uncles. Uncle Joe "Sprat" Sbaraglia, his mom's brother, and Uncle Joe Egitto, who was married to his mom's closest sister Anne. His Uncle Joe died yesterday morning at the age of 94. Dad has lots of great memories of him and though he hadn't really spoken much to him in the past couple of decades, those memories mean so much to him. I've mentioned before about how Uncle Joe would take them to the shore. It's in the entry just a couple below this one. Talking about how his Uncle Joe would pile everyone into his brand new 1957 Chevy, drive them down to the shore (which was a treat, because neither my grandma or my grandpa ever drove). He'd take them out to lunch, buy them taffy, and even give them spending money. He was always patient with them and always kind. The word dad uses all the time when talking about Uncle Joe Egitto is "kind". :-) I actually just found out in reading my aunt's blog and talking to dad tonight that Uncle Joe was an accomplished violinist. I never knew that. You see, I never met either of my Uncle Joes. My Uncle Joe Sprat passed away before I was born. Then Uncle Joe Egitto had split up from my Aunt Anne also before I was born. But, I remember looking through my Aunt Anne's albums and seeing a picture of their wedding day and they were such a beautiful couple. He was incredibly handsome and she was so beautiful, though she never thought she was. And, since I never knew him, it's fun to hear how special he was and kind he was to my dad and his siblings. I also found out that he was a very spiritual guy. Knew his bible backwards and forwards, I'm told. It's so awesome to hear about the strong group of christians that were a part of my family. I'm so thankful for that foundation - not just with my parents, but my grandparents/aunts/uncles/etc.. on both sides of my family. What a legacy to carry on. Pretty special. Dad talked to him for the last time about a year ago and though it was a short conversation, he said he was glad to hear from him and I'm sure he holds the same memories that dad has. I wish I had had the opportunity to get to know him like I did my Aunt Anne, who I loved so very much. But, I know that one day I'll get to meet him in heaven. So, Uncle Joe, it's been fun to hear about you and hear how great you were to my dad and his family. I can only begin to imagine the joy and wonder you are now experiencing in the sight of God.

John Mark Drexler - the Early Years

Dad's been busy this week with a funeral he had today for my brother-in-law's grandpa who passed away on Sunday, so I haven't tried talking to him this week because of that. So, I thought I'd just post a couple pictures I found when we were in IN back in April. I know there's not a whole lot he could probably even tell me about these pictures, because they were both taken in 1948 and he was just so young then. The top one, he looks to be 6-7m old. Since he was born in Aug, this would be late winter/early spring - thus the coat. You can see in the background is the church that his dad pastored for over 50 yrs. I loved going to that little church when we were in Runnemede on vacations. I don't think I ever actually heard my grandpa preach, because he always had my dad do it when we were there, but it was a very warm and welcoming congregation and you could always see the love they had for my dad and likewise for my mom and for us. I haven't been to that church since my grandpa's memorial service was held there 9 years ago, but it will always have a special place in the hearts of those who went there. Particularly my dad and his family.

The next picture, like I said, was also taken in 1948, but I'm guessing dad is probably about 1 here. He's being supported by his oldest sister Judi and his sister Debbie is behind him. I'm guessing grandma was pregnant with his brother about this time, because I think they are only a little over a year apart. But, I could be wrong on that one. My grandma was never supposed to be able to have children and for the first few years of their marriage, they didn't. But, then ended up having 4 children. All within a few years. So, they were really blessed to have the family they did. And, those Drexler kids were just soooo cute! I love looking at pictures of my dad and his brother and sisters back then. Just adorable! I need to ask him sometime when his birth stats were. I wonder if he even remembers. I just know he was born on August 23, 1947 and he was the first boy of the family. His mom wanted to name him "Mark" and his dad wanted to name him "John", so they named him "John Mark" and called him "Mark". That's why if you ever meet someone from NJ or anyone in his family, they all call him "Mark". It wasn't until he went to college, that he started going by John. I think he started doing that at PCB (Philadelphia College of Bible - now called something else) and not later at Grace College, where he went to seminary. He met my mom at PCB and she's always called him John, so I think he must've started that there. Anyway, just a little something to share this week about my dad, since I haven't been able to chat with him lately. I always love sharing pictures. I think it helps bring our families and stories to life more. :-)

The Shore

The first time my dad ever went to the shore, it was with his Uncle Joe Egitto. He thinks he was a 3rd grader at the time, because he knows it was before he got glasses and wasn’t able to see very well. He drove all 4 of the kids (Carl, Debbie, Judi, and dad), along with his mom and Aunt Anne (Joe’s wife), down to Ocean City. This was before the freeway was put in, so it was quite a drive. The first time dad saw the ocean, he was scared of it. It was so vast that he didn’t want to go in it. He remembers his sister Judi walking with him down to the water to help him not to be nervous about going in. He kept his head down, so he couldn’t see how big it was. He eventually got over that and learned to enjoy the ocean, but that first experience was a scary one for him. Later they had lunch. He had his very first hot turkey sandwich. He said he still drools when he thinks of it, because it was so delicious. Up until that point, it was the best meal he had ever had in his whole life and he thought to himself if he could have a hot turkey sandwich like that every day of his life, he would be happy forever. Guess that’s as good a goal as any for a 9 yr old. ;-) His Uncle Joe paid for everything that day. He paid for lunch, bought them all salt water taffy, and he remembers that he even gave all the kids a dollar each to spend. His Uncle Joe took them on several trips and was always so patient with them. Even when they would be driving and his brother Carl and he would yell at motorists they would pass "We beat you, mister!!" and point at them and laugh. He always just let it all slide off his back. And, that first trip to the shore was a really wonderful one of those trips where his Uncle Joe made things really special for him.

Day in the Life of a Seminary Student

Another time that dad’s imagination got the best of him was in seminary back in IN. This was before he was married and he was watching a basketball game. His mind was wandering thinking of ways he could impress the girls in the crowd. Obviously his experience years earlier at the shore didn’t stop him from coming up with crazy ideas. He thought to himself "if a fight broke out at the game, I could get in there and really show this small IN town what a guy from Philly can do!" Just as he was thinking this through, a scuffle broke out among the players. Dad immediantely rushed down to the floor, fists in the air, ready to take someone on. This is just what he imagined would happen! Only, it wasn’t QUITE what he had imagined after all. It was only once he was on the fall that he realized the players, who looked much smaller at the top of the bleachers now dwarfed my 5’7" dad. And, to add insult to injury, no one else had found the need to get involved in a brawl at a non-violent, brethern, seminarian basketball game!! So, there he stood, alone on the floor, while 6’8" basketball players just stared at him. The cheerleaders looked at him like he was some kind of serial killer and the fans just looked at him with disgust. So much for his "big hero-Philly guy" routine. Guess watching the "Godfather" had put too many ideas in his head. He wasn’t going to be Sonny after all. As he humbly walked back up the bleachers, he saw a woman holding her elbow. "Are you ok?" he asked, hoping that somehow he could redeem himself by giving aid to this injured woman. "Oh, I’m ok. You just kicked me when you were running down the bleachers. But, I had surgery on it recently, so it’ll be fine.". Great. So, not only did he run down the bleachers into a non-existant fight only to be humiliated in front of the entire crowd of people, but the one person injured in the maylay was someone he hurt in his own attempt to be the macho Jersey guy. His friends turned away from him as he got closer to get his stuff. Again, it seems his friends left him to absorb the full impact of his stupidity alone. There was no sneaking out either. You can’t sneak out of a basketball game, so he gathered his things and quietly walked out. Head hanging low, humiliation growing.

Head Over Heels

My dad worked at the Jersey shore for a couple years in Ocean City. He lived with Jimmy Bathurst while he was down there working each summer. He worked as a short-order cook, a dishwasher, anything to get some cash. And, to give you an idea of what he made, he said he worked 81 hrs and brought home $73. Wow. Anyway, he was beginning to notice some of the girls - in particular a girl named Linda Fox who happened to be friends with Jimmy's girlfriend. Dad says he wasn't particularly good-looking at that time in his life around 1966, so he would try and figure out ways to impress girls. One such incident sticks out in his mind. One night, Jimmy and his girlfriend, Linda and dad all were at a pool hanging out. Dad had gone shopping earlier and bought himself a new pair of bermuda shorts, white socks, and a new polo shirt, which was a pretty big deal since he didn't make much money. He thought he was looking pretty good and if that impressed Linda, it was totally worth it to him! But, she wasn't noticing him like he had hoped. So, as they sat there he began thinking about what he could do to really stand out. He looked at the pool and thought, "Boy, if someone were drowning, I could rescue them. ....I can't swim though, so it would have to be someone drowning in the shallow end." As his mind wandered in this direction, he heard a small voice say "help me". He perked up and noticed a little girl had lost a hold of her raft. And, not only was she needing help, but she was in the shallow end! Here was his chance!!! He jumped off his chair and lept into the pool - her hero had come to save her!!!! But as he is in mid-air, he hears her dad say, "She's alright". This is the omen that should've stopped him, somehow knowing that the outcome of this wasn't going to be a good one. But there's no turning back when you're hanging over the pool, seconds away from splashing into it. When he finally hit the water, what he thought was a shallow 4' pool ended up being a shallow 2' pool, so his legs very quickly hit the bottom causing severe ankle and leg pain as he collapsed in the water. Plus, in the wake of his rescue attempt, the waves pushed the girl's raft straight into her, hitting her in the head and causing her to cry. And, to top it off, he had forgotten his wallet was in his pocket and it was now floating on top of the water, his pictures had scattered and were going in all directions. He looks around and sees the girl going to her dad who is now laughing hysterically at him. He tried desperately to gather up all his pictures (and his dignity) which are floating away from him as each moment passes. A woman in the area, seeing dad's obvious embarrassment says "I think this boy deserves a round of applause". A smattering of applause follows, which only deepens his humiliation. By the time the once proud father of mine has finished his unsuccessful rescue attempt, he walks back to his friends only to find that they have left him behind - too mortified to stay and admit that THEIR friend would do something so ridiculous. So, he ends up walking home the 16 blocks soaking wet in his brand new outfit, never having gotten the girl. And, after what he just pulled, absolutely no chance at all of EVER getting the girl.

By the way, he said he told this story during a speech in college. He embelished it a bit though to add that a guy in a car near the pool saw the whole thing and thought that dad was trying to kill himself and in his shock and horror, the guy passed out on the horn. Dad's always been known for his embelishments. Though the stories themselves are so funny, in my opinion, that nothing needs to be added to make it hiliarious! I'll have to share more stories on his embelishments sometime. Like when he invented the fact that he had a leporous brother perhaps? ;-)

Liver Pills Ahoy

OK – this story I had to talk my dad into sharing for the blog. He didn’t really want to, but when he mentioned "soiling himself on the way home from baseball", I knew it HAD to be included. ;-) He was 15 yrs old and his dad had told him to take some medicine. Dad took them, not asking what they were. That was a major mistake, because they were liver pills, which cause a bit of a, let’s say, "reaction in the bowels" after they’ve taken effect. While he was playing baseball, he suddenly felt the urge to go. He knew there were bathrooms there, but they were locked, so he decided to run home and take care of it. Well, the field is in southern Runnemede, quite far from his house. He was walking as quickly as he could – tucking his cheeks to hold back the tidal wave that was sure to come. He was beginning to run as he got closer to the house, by the school playground across the street, when he jumped down a short 3’ embankment. That jump proved to be his undoing. The wave was released and continued releasing even as he ran in the house and into the bathroom. He spent a while in there cleaning himself up, showering, washing out his clothes. He got dressed and headed back out to the ball field. When he got back he realized that the bathrooms were indeed UNLOCKED. All that agony and embarrassment could’ve been easily solved if he had just checked the doors before he left. Or, perhaps, he should’ve just used a rock and a fern, eh Micah?

You Always Get Caught

In 5th grade, dad wanted to get out of class, so he asked to be excused to go to the bathroom. When he got there, he decided he wanted to fool around and got the soap out and played what he called "The Soap Dish Game". I guess it’s when you get the soap wet and see how many times you can get it to spin around the sink bowl. I'm finding as dad tells me these stories, he had QUITE an active imagination. Anyway, he took quite a long time before getting back to class, so when he did his teacher Mrs. Jackson (Prehistoric Jackson is what they called her because she was so old) confronted him on why he was gone so long. What to say? What to say? "I got sick and threw up," he quickly made up and she totally believed him! She sent him straight to the nurses’ office, so he could rest and feel better. He thought he was pretty smooth and was pretty excited to be getting out of class. A little white lie never hurt anyone right? And, now he could get out of class and enjoy some time relaxing in the nurses office. BUT, another boy in school had TRULY gotten sick and puked all over the hallway. The Bingham principal (he couldn’t remember her name) went up to dad and started interrogating him about whether or not HE was the one who had puked in the hallway. He tried to claim his innocence, but knowing he was going to be blamed for something he didn’t do, he folded like a house of cards and confessed that he didn’t actually get sick at all and had made the whole thing up to get out of class. He was spanked a lot by that principal and sent back to face his teacher. Don't know if they ever found out who REALLY puked that day. Maybe it was Merrill getting dad back. ;-)

Poor Merrill

In 4th grade, dad sat by a boy named Merrill Gander. He actually lived right next door to their 4th grade teacher and she didn’t like him at all. He was a troublemaker and caused her quite a lot of headaches. This little fact worked to dad’s advantage later in the school year. The boy that sat behind dad was a boy named Ronnie Davis and one day he was walking up the front of the class and dad stuck his foot out and tripped him. Ronnie went flying. Knocked over the trash can, fell over the desks, and caused quite a commotion! The teacher walked back and looked at Merrill and said, "Did you trip Ronnie?!!" "No." he said. She didn’t believe him and started whacking the heck out of him with a yardstick. As dad said, "She beat the living crap out of him", all the while Merrill is confessing his innocence. "I didn’t do it, I swear". "Don’t you lie to me!!" she yells back. Dad sat there with a straight face, knowing that the wrath would come down on him if he said a word. So, he never did. He watched as Merrill got smacked around and sent to the principal’s office, knowing full well that HE was the one who had tripped Ronnie. Six years later, Merrill would call in a bomb scare not once, but three times the first week of the 1962 World Series. When he was caught the 3rd day, he was expelled from NJ schools for LIFE. And, he believes it all started that day when he was blamed for a crime that dad committed. That’s the sad story of poor Merrill Gander. On a side note, dad faked being sick that Monday, because he too didn’t want to miss the first game of the World Series. At least he was smart enough not to call in a bomb scare to get out of it!

It All Started in 3rd Grade

It's hard to believe a sweet, adorable little boy like my dad here in the picture above could be any trouble at all. That sweet smile, those precious suspenders - I mean, he's just a little angel, right? Well, in 3rd grade he began to find out what it meant to be "disruptive", thus starting his sophmoric rise into the archives of the principal's office. ;-) Miss Prichard was his teacher and he liked her a lot. Though, I’m not sure the feeling was mutual. He said she liked his dad and felt sorry for him for having the 2 crazy boys that he had. Sounds like a lot of teachers felt bad for Grandma and Grandpa for that very reason as we’ll see. Dad was sitting with other kids in a group and was supposed to be reading. They were all taking turns reading this book. Dad was impatient and tried cutting in and reading himself. Reading louder than the other student, so the other child would stop and he could keep reading. He's never been one for patience. Well, that was not ok to the teacher, so Miss Pritchard made him stand in the hall, which was normal punishment back then for disruptive behavior. And, he also had to miss recess that day. When recess time came, the kids shuffled out and she sent dad to Mrs. Taylor’s class, which happened to be a 1st grade class that his brother Carl was in. They were singing songs when he got there. A specific song called "Jumalaya" actually. In the song the lyric says "Son of a Gun". Dad was singing away, not having a care in the world when Carl said to him, "I’m gonna tell mom you said ‘Son of a Gun!’" Dad got mad and started beating up his brother, which of course made the teacher come up and she sent dad out into the hall again. When HIS teacher came back from recess and saw he was in the hallway she didn’t understand why he was still there, when she had told him to go to Mrs. Taylor’s room. That is until Mrs. Taylor told her what happened. Dad couldn’t even behave himself in another’s teacher’s classroom for 15 min recess time. I think this is when the whole "I feel sorry for your father" thing came into play. ;-)

Chronicles of Mr. Elliason - Part 3

Dad was goofing around at his desk, trying to make the people around him laugh when he suddenly came up with a brillant idea! "I’m gonna set my desk on fire" he told his friends. "No way!" "You’ll never do that" where the quick replies. One kid dared him to and that’s all it took for him to carry out his plan. He took a straight match and some paperwork and lit it on fire and placed it on his desk. It was only burning for a few seconds when he patted it out. Ashes were lying around and he kind of broke off the blackened pieces. Mr. Elliason then called for the class to line up. As he was walking by the desks though, something grabbed his attention. "I smell sulfer. Like someone lit a match." Everyone looked around like nothing was amiss. "No one leaves this room until someone tells me who tried to set something on fire! I don’t care if it’s 6 o’clock!" One of the students said, "I’ll tell you!" "No…No…no. Let them go," dad valiantly said., as if he were hero, ready to right all wrong. "I did it. I’ll take my punishment." The kids shuffled out, many waiting downstairs waiting to see if dad would come out….alive. Mr. Elliason didn’t beat up dad. He just sat there and looked at him. "I just feel so badly for your father that he has you for a son." he sighed. "What is wrong with you? I could get you expelled for life!" Dad was getting a little scared. Expelled for life? Grandpa had already threatened to send him away to like military school or something. This was not going well. "I won’t do it though. I wouldn’t do that to your father. ……… Just get out of here." And dad took the cue and left. Quickly. I can only imagine after facing Korea, what Mr. Elliason must’ve thought of having dad in his class.

The Chronicles of Mr. Elliason - Part 2

Another episode with Mr. Elliason was after dad had watched the movie "Blackboard Jungle" with Glenn Ford and Sidney Portier. In that movie the teacher is referred to as "Teach", which dad thought was really cool. So the next day at school he kept referring to Mr. Elliason as "Teach". Either Mr. Elliason tuned dad out or just didn’t care, he’s not really sure, because as dad was leaving that day, he called out "See ya later Teach!" to Mr. Elliason as he was talking to another teacher and that other teacher said, "Are you going to let him talk to you like that?!" "What did he say?" he asked. When he heard that dad had called him "Teach", he told dad to get back in the classroom and once again received Mr. Elliason’s brand of discipline. He never again called him "Teach". ;-)

The Chronicles of Mr. Elliason - Part 1

I was talking to my dad today and many stories came up about his 7th grade teacher Mr. Elliason. So, I've decided to split them up into separate entries, since I feel they each deserve their own space. I'll start with his first run in with Mr. Elliason. The first of many that year. Now, to give you an idea of who his teacher was, he was a former marine. Dad thinks he was a marine during the Korean War, because he was a young guy and the year was 1959. He was big and tough and hard. Not someone you would think to mess with. But, dad apparently didn't seem intimidated. Anyway, the first run in came around Christmas time. They were getting ready for their christmas program and were all in class together, singing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" in latin. Dad wanted to sing it with gusto, so he was singing loudly. QUITE loudly - and obnoxiously I might add. So much louder was he than the rest of the kids, it grabbed Mr. Elliason's attention. "Drexler, sing it right! " he said to my dad. Dad apparently didn't heed that warning, because he continued to sing it loudly and disruptively. Mr. Elliason stopped the singing, grabbed dad and put him in the cloak room, which was the room by the classroom with 2 entry doors and hooks for their coats and stuff. "I don't want to see you!! I don't want to hear you until this is over!!!!" he shouted at dad, then left to go back to the singing practice. Again, dad didn't take this too seriously, because as soon as the singing started up again, dad joined in with as much gusto as before. Singing with all his might in that little cloak room. Mr. Elliason came back in, furious, and beat dad all the ways till Sunday. Even tried hanging him on one of the hooks in that room. He had had it with dad and he let him know it!! You would think this would've given dad some clue as to how to behave with this teacher of his. That he would know that his 7th grade teacher wasn't someone you messed with. But, as the "Chronicles" continue, you'll see - well - dad didn't learn his lesson that day and poor Mr. Elliason was in for a very LONG year with my father.

Answered Prayer

In 1958, my dad was really starting to like baseball. He was about 11 at the time and his dad went to a winter banquet put on by the rotary club. A guy named Stan Lopata was there and he was a star player for the Philadelphia Phillies. In fact, just a couple years earlier than that, he had hit 32 home runs, which was a really big deal! Well, his dad got an autograph from Stan Lopata at this banquet and it was written on an envelope. When he came home, he gave that envelope to my dad. None of his friends' dad went to this banquet, so dad was the only one with his autograph. He was thrilled!!!! It was his most prized possession. When he'd get his cheese boxes out with his baseball cards inside, that envelope was with them too. He showed everyone this autograph and just was so proud of this thing. Now, after a few months, maybe a year, he had left his baseball cards out with this envelope, as he often did, when his mom picked it up and threw it away. Apparently not realizing that THIS was the envelope with Stan's autograph on it! When dad found out, he was crushed. Devastated! He ran upstairs and wept. Thinking maybe it had fallen behind the baseboard, he pulled it from the wall to check. Wasn't there. Dug through the trash. Wasn't there. He looked in every nook and cranny in that house. Looked under every piece of paper. Everywhere!!!! Nothing. He prayed and prayed and prayed, "Lord, PLEASE let me find this envelope!!!!!". Nothing. It was lost forever. God had apparently told him "no". He gave his mom a hard time for years and years. Even in her 70s, he'd bring up the fact that she threw away his autographed envelope. Well....... something amazing happened today. Today he bought a pack of Heritage baseball cards, which are reprints of Topps cards from the 1950s and 1960s. He bought just one pack and as he was going through it, he saw an autographed card. The signature was in red, so he knew it was something special. When he got to that card and read it, do you know who it was? STAN LOPATA!!!! 50 years after his autographed envelope from Stan Lopata was thrown away, he got that autograph back!! Stan is 83 yrs old now and signed just 60 cards. 60! And, dad got #57 today. God DOES answer prayer. Sometimes when he means "wait", he means "wait a really long time". :-) I bet Grandma is looking down from heaven saying, "See? I got it back for you after all.". Wow!!