Today was Herman's funeral, and I feel the need to make a comment or two...
First of all, I don't have very many Strat-O memories that don't somehow involve Herman. My first game in NASOMA was against the Oilers. As we did in my old league, I sat down NEXT to Herman for our first game. In his slow, country drawl, he looked me up and down and said, "What are you doing?"
The Higdon dive happened at the clubhouse pool by my old house and came as the result of a comeback victory over the Oilers. The cuckoo clock game was between the FFTs and the Inmates, but it occurred at Herman's house. I was there for both of those. Three times the Oilers ALMOST made it to the World Series, and two of those losses were against my Warpigs in last second comebacks.
Probably my favorite memory of Herman was at the draft in Louisville. Herman, Derek, and I arrived together at the airport and shared a taxi to the hotel. There was a nice looking, scantily clad girl on the curb as our taxi pulled away. Derek and I were both watching her when Herman spoke up: "She's got the right kind of legs. Feet at one end and pussy at the other."
I've never thought the same way about him since.
This past Tuesday, I had taken the day off from school so I could be home for the plumber. And since the plumber wasn't coming until 2:00, I emailed Herman asking if I could come visit in the morning. He replied that he would love to see me. And let me tell you, I am SO glad he did. We had a great talk. He was so worried about how he was inconveniencing everyone... and worried about his team and how it would be managed... things like that. I told him to stop worrying - but I didn't know what else to say. He was headed to the place we all want to go someday. The greatest of all places. There would be no more pain. No more worry. I don't know if my visit or our talk helped him - I hope it did - but I know it helped me.
A funny, telling moment from that visit: He had not been out of bed for 36 hours when I visited, but he wanted to get up and get in his chair that day. It took three of us, but we got him sitting up. Then it took several minutes for him to get his breath under control. And after all that, what do you think he wanted to do? Play some games. Too funny. Too sweet. We didn't, of course. Carolyn wasn't going to allow it anyway.
I left there that day so grateful that I had gotten to visit with him one more time, but knowing too that his time was short. I could not imagine him surviving many more days in that kind of pain and suffering. I called Derek as soon as I left and told him as much. Derek had seen him on Sunday and felt Herman was basically telling him goodbye that day.
Our visit Tuesday was the highlight of my week. Wednesday night (early Thursday morning, actually), Herman passed on. Quietly. In his sleep. I knew before getting up that morning that he was gone. I don't know how I knew, but I did.
I saw Carolyn and Glenn again on Friday. Dr. and Mrs. FFT are on vacation, but they arranged to have a ham sent to the Wheeler house. I was the delivery boy, and used my conference period at school to make the house call. The Wheelers were holding up well, and there was the sense of relief that our friend was finally free from the pain.
It was a wonderful funeral. At Herman's request, the program was broken down by innings - yep, there were nine of them. And it's not every day you attend a funeral where everybody stands up and sings "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the 7th inning stretch; but then, it's not every funeral that has music performed by the "Hee Haw Gospel Quartet."
I will scan or re-type the program and put that on Big Innings as soon as I can.
NASOMA was well-represented despite the FFTs, DVs, and Rhinos being out of town. Besides the Buckeyes and Tweeners, we also had Warpigs, Wahoos, Fungoes, Inmates, and Mavs. The spouses were all there as well (except for the Inmates who left his cats at home). Even the original MavGirl showed up to pay her respects. Former NASOMA owner Dennis Gray was there. The Zapper sent a beautiful spray of flowers. There was a spray of flowers from NASOMA as well.
Herman was laid to rest about 90 feet from my mother's gravesite. There's a bit of weird coincidence in that. Both my mother and Herman were born in 1938. My mother died in March of 1998, just over a month before she would have turned 60. Herman passed in May of 2008, just over a month before he would have turned 70. Herman married Carolyn, which was also my mother's name. And now they're the distance from home plate to first apart.
I don't know how it works with everyone else, but funerals make me step back and take a look at myself and my life. Will I be able to face things as stoically as Herman did? Do I have my ducks in a row with my family? With my friends? With God?
Sadly, right now the answer to all of these is probably no. I know I'm not an easy friend. It takes more effort to be friends with me than most people are willing to put forth, and it's entirely my own fault. As someone once told me, I tend to push people away. I'd like to say days like today will help me to change, but I also know I'm weak.
All I can promise is that I will try. I would hate to have a funeral and have no one come. (The Snakeman promised, assuming I die at a convenient time for him, to come to my funeral and bring a date. So there's two. He also volunteered to bring some strippers to make the turnout look larger.)
Anyway... somewhere in Heaven tonight, there are at least four guys sitting at a table rolling dice. I can hear it now: "Craaaack!" "Lift up your skirt, Margo!" "Mr. Wheeler, you're gonna get to watch me eat." and "What in the world is that?"
Rest easy, Herman. And stay in the good column.
