A Harmonious Gallop Through The Flint Hills

The Kansas City Symphony at Fort Riley.

A horse soldier reached out to grab a tossed ring while his mount cleared a fence.

The glorious history of the U.S. Cavalry often recounts legendary rides of valor in the Flint Hills of Kansas in the times of the “Old West.” Saturday, the Cavalry delivered again by playing a major role in the annual day of Kansas wonder when the Symphony in the Flint Hills came to Fort Riley.

Founded in 2004 with the mission to “heighten appreciation and knowledge of the tallgrass prairie, by providing opportunities to experience symphonic music and place-based education in the Kansas Flint Hills,” the Symphony in the Flint Hills helps many to appreciate what Laura and I believe is our state’s greatest setting.

Usually held on sprawling Flint Hill ranches, where the land forms natural amphitheaters, the Kansas City Symphony Orchestra performs a concert rich in American music with readings that trace life on the plains where “the deer and antelope roam.” Saturday’s setting on the one of the most historic military posts in the nation broke with that tradition.

A female trooper used her saber in mock combat.

Told that some long-time concert attendees were not happy taking the event out of lush grasslands to a more civilized setting, we delighted over the selection. We always enjoy exploring the Fort, founded in 1853, that once was home to Gen. George Armstrong Custer, regiments of “Buffalo Soldiers” and today the storied 1st Infantry Division, the Big Red One.

We arrived earlier than ever at the concert site on the Artillery Parade Field for a performance by the Commanding General’s Mounted Color Guard. Riders re-enacted the Cavalry skills mounted guardians once used to protect major portions of the Oregon and Santa Fe Trails. Following their display of riding skills, the horse men and women lingered to share their stories and pose for photographs.

One told us he had never been on a horse when he volunteered for the two-year tour of duty. To earn a saddle, and the right to perform, requires mastery of all skills while riding bareback. The friendly young man smiled when he told us he now wished he still could perform riding bareback.

Laura making sweet music.

Afterwards, Laura and I wandered through the rows of limestone duplexes that date back to the times of Custer but still provide rustic, yet updated housing for top officers today. In a nearby park, a small encampment revealed life on deployment was far from luxurious. Laura fulfilled a dream by getting quick instruction on playing a violin at the musical instrument petting zoo. I hit the conga drums for the opening licks of Santana’s Soul Sacrifice first performed at Woodstock. We chatted with many friends just as happy to be taking it all in as we were. Any threat of storms dissipated during our wanderings. By show time, the few clouds that lingered only heightened the natural beauty of the setting.

No matter where the symphony performs in the Flint Hills, our intent always is less about watching the orchestra perform and more about finding an empty spot somewhat removed from the large crowd where the music can wash over us as we share in the glory of our state’s great beauty and our love for each other. The 90 minute performance never seems long enough.

A moth joined us during the Symphony.

A selection from Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, the New World Symphony, and one of my favorites, highlighted the night. However, the rest of the performances helped bring a sense of peace and joy that in our hustling life is far too infrequent. After the intermission, the selections tend to move more to movie themes and classics easily appreciated. Nothing exemplifies that better than Elmer Bernstein’s Theme from the Magnificent Seven, also well-known as the theme to the old Marlboro television ads.

Given the day’s Cavalry theme, the William Tell Overture, the evening’s penultimate selection, had everyone in our area sitting on the edges of their chairs or bouncing on their blankets with imaginary horse reins held in front of them. We all rode along with the music probably better known as the theme to the old Lone Ranger television show. “Hi-Yo Silver! Away!”

The audience singing the Kansas state song, Home on the Range, always brings the event to a close. Thanks to the marvelous setting, the wonderful music and the Cavalry on display, we walked to our car after a delightful afternoon and evening “where seldom was heard a discouraging word.”

The laid-back mood of the evening.

“That’s Just The Way It Is”

The NCAA National Champions

To be even a small part of something historic is a remarkable feeling. Laura and I felt that Saturday in Eugene, Oregon, after the KU women’s track and field team won the first national championship for the women’s track and field program, and the first for all KU women’s sports. The triumph wrapped up one of the most enjoyable trips for the two of us in some time.

Laura and I enjoying Eugene. (Carl Davaz)

As the team flew into Portland on Monday and drove the two hours south to Eugene, everyone knew the battle for the women’s title would primarily be fought between Oregon and Kansas. Key performers needed to meet pre-championship projections. One or two exceeding expectations would mean victory.

Sitting in the back seat of our rental Ford Flex was one of those key performers, Olympic gold medalist, Diamond Dixon. Along with teammate and relay reserve runner, freshman Rhavean King, the two were absolute delights. While they chatted away asking Laura and I all sorts of questions and sharing their unique insights on KU life, I kept my eyes glued to the road during Portland’s evening rush hour traffic. I felt the pressure of transporting one of KU’s most esteemed athletes.

The flow was less stop-and-go and more get up to speed and then suddenly stop. The first time I pressed the brakes hard, we heard the simultaneous click of two seat belts behind us. While we all joked over Dixon’s and King’s efforts to do this without discovery, I had to gently chastise them for not having their seat belts on from the start. They, in turn, joked that we were driving a “chipmunk car”, as did KU’s head coach, Stanley Redwine.

The boxy Flex did look like an over-sized Scion, which in television commercials features chipmunks driving the equally boxy mini-wagon. We reminded them that the seating was still way better than that of the others packed into 12-passenger vans for the journey.

Once freed from our driving demands upon arrival in Eugene, Laura and I dumped all our gear that always makes us the butt of many team jokes for our expedition size loads of camera gear along with our clothing bags. We were off to Prince Puckler’s, the outstanding home-made ice cream store just a block away from Historic Hayward Field, the mecca of the track and field world.

Sitting outside with our ice cream cones, the beautiful late-evening weather was just a foretaste for a week of the best weather ever experienced for a championship in often-soggy Eugene. Sunshine and brilliant blue skies reigned instead with not a drop of rain. The setting of the Oregon campus surrounded by hills enveloped with wondrously green trees was picture perfect and truly enticing to everyone without allergies. For the not-so-fortunate, June is the worst month of the year and the sunny skies and gentle breezes did little to relieve visitors in the media tent that bore the red hue of tissue-wiped noses as they sneezed their way to and from the track. Amazingly, we both easily survived.

As the four days of competition began on Wednesday, sadly one of the victims was our car mate Dixon.  Having already helped KU qualify in the 4×100-meter relay, Dixon fell too far behind early in the 400-meter race to make up the distance with her usual final kick. She did not advance to the final.

Lindsay Vollmer unleashed a personal best throw in the javelin during the heptathlon competition.

That loss was more than made up for by one of the most remarkable performances over the next two days from Lindsay Vollmer. The sophomore from Missouri set personal best marks in six of the seven events in the heptathlon. She exceeded expectations by such a margin that she took home the KU women’s first outdoor national championship. In so doing, she also sent a message to the educated track fans of Oregon that their beloved team was about to see an end to what they hoped would be a Duck Dynasty.

Having already won the cross country and indoor titles, where KU finished second, the Ducks were priming for the triple crown with the outdoor championship on their home pond. By the end of the third day though, KU’s point totals started to indicate the trophy would be flying southeast for the summer.

Meanwhile, the trip allowed me to share time with some of my former teammates and head coach from the early Capital-Journal years. We started with a dinner at the home of Carl and Kim Davaz, a newspaper alum of the highest order.  Years in Topeka prepared him for success as the photo editor first in Missoula, Montana, and then over many years at the Eugene Registar-Guard, where he is now number two in the newsroom of one of the best photographic newspapers in the country.

Davaz has taken on the mellow vibe of life in Eugene. We dined on salmon he caught in the Columbia River, cooked perfectly by his son-in-law Nat, a chef specializing in the cuisine of Northern Spain. The best strawberry pie ever capped the dinner thanks to the skills of Davaz’s food critic wife and the juicy flavor of the berries picked earlier in the day.

Wine at Target just does not seem right.

Our contribution for the long evening of wonderful conversation on their patio was the first bottle of wine. In Kansas the debate rages whether grocery and convenience stores should sell hard liquor. Buying wine in a Target store just does not seem right. Even though screw-on caps are now deemed worthy of a fine wine, buying such a bottle in Target screamed Boone’s Farm. Our selection of a corked Pinot Noir was a big hit and disappeared quickly.

Keeping the small reunion going two nights later, our esteemed boss Rich Clarkson hosted a dinner at one the fantastic restaurants in Eugene, where there is a recycled life for everything from the old buildings to utensils. On a menu bursting with local fish options, my halibut flaked tenderly as we all took time to once again thank Clarkson for his remarkable leadership.

Laura with George Olson, foreground, and Carl Davaz.

George Olson drove from his home in Portland to share in the fun that ended with even more hours of reminiscing and updates on life at Davaz’s home. Olson, once the College Photographer of the Year as a Washburn University student, shared his rich black and white images from a recent trip to Italy, all shot with film in his ancient Leica that dates back to his newspaper days in Topeka in the late 60′s and early 70′s. We both are very proud of the fact we are the only true Topekans to ever work as staff photographers when that small Topeka paper was the runaway best in photojournalism.

The Capt. Crunch monster.

We ate very clean throughout the week, save the ice cream and our trip to Voodoo Doughnuts. This Oregon bastion of caloric overload is nationally known and did not disappoint. Not a big fan of goo-filled pastry, I kept my selections pretty simple. Laura did not disappoint though. Gorging on their classic voodoo doll filled with “raspberry blood,” she followed it up with a gigantic Capt. Crunch-encrusted gut bomb. I watched in wonder.

The many meals at the track always offered vegan options to make up for any gluttony. While enjoying a quinoa wrap, the photographer and video folk from Arkansas kept us enraptured with their tales of Fayetteville’s annual “Walmartian” invasion. Strange creatures from around the world swarm the campus taking over dorms and the huge Bud Walton Arena while buzzing everywhere in legions of golf carts.

Seems Wal-Mart knows how to throw a party. Their annual convention of top executives and shareholders from around the world dominates the landscape of a university made lush by Walton family money. Golf carts chauffeur executives everywhere. Cleaned dorms provide housing. A tent city, one mile square, erupts on campus with states and foreign countries holding forth, exchanging pins and breaking into mass cheers. Security for the very top executives rivals that of the President.

What goes on in Bud Walton Arena, lovingly called the “Basketball Palace of Mid-America”, is what really amazed us. Here were some of the guests for this year’s event: concerts by Elton John, John Legend, Jennifer Hudson and Kelly Clarkson; addresses from Tom Cruise and the cast of Duck Dynasty, and Hugh Jackman serving as host. A former Badger now coaches the Arkansas football team, but “Wolverine” served as host for the Wal-Mart extravaganza.

Bruce Hornsby

Ah, but they did not have Bruce Hornsby. That was our privilege. As the crowd flowed into Hayward Field on Saturday morning for the final day of competition, the gifted pianist delighted us with his skills in an extended set that culminated with his playing the National Anthem.

The rest of the day belonged to the Jayhawk women. From the first day, when KU piled up 17 points, the team steadily raced forward. On Saturday senior Paris Daniels made sure they never needed to look back. Running the lead-off leg of the 4×100-meter relay, Daniels came back quickly to run the 200-meter dash and then anchored the 4×400-meter relay. The points in those three races blasted away any Oregon hope as Texas A&M moved past them for second place.

Paris Daniels leading off KU’s 4×100-meter relay.

However, a look at the point scoring for KU shows how a complete team effort led to the remarkable total of 60 points and a 16 point dominating lead over the second-place Aggies.

Andrea Geubelle (16 pts: 2nd-place long jump and triple jump)

Lindsay Vollmer (10 pts: 1st-place heptathlon)

Natalia Bartnovskaya (8 pts: 2nd-place pole vault)

Paris Daniels (6.75 pts: 4th-place 200m, 5th-place 4x100m [1 pt], 6th-place 4x400m [.75 pts.])

Alena Krechyk (6 pts: 3rd-place hammer throw)

Jessica Maroszek (5 pts: 4th-place discus)

Heather Bergmann (3 pts: 6th-place javelin)

Diamond Dixon (1.75 pts: 5th-place 4x100m [1 pts], 6th-place 4x400m [.75 pts])

Denesha Morris (1.75 pts: 5th-place 4x100m [1 pt], 6th-place 4x400m [.75 pts])

Tianna Valentine (1 pt: 5th-place 4x100m)

Taylor Washington (.75 pts: 6th-place 4x400m)

I am old enough to have seen the last great KU track and field team that dominated the NCAA’s in 1970 with a powerful trio of shot putters. Known as “the Pachyderms,” Karl Salb, Steve Wilhelm and Doug Knop swept the NCAA podium. KU had only one individual champion this year, but the “team” coach Stanley Redwine brought to Eugene was just as powerful.

Again, we know we are just a small part of the team Redwine assembled, but he and the women of KU make sure we feel every bit a part of it, just as they do for their excellent communications contact, Brad Gilbert. As proud as Redwine is of his team performance, I am just as proud of the job we did documenting those great moments.

As we readied Saturday for the celebration to come, Laura knew before I could even speak that she needed to get up high in the stands to make sure we covered every angle. The photograph she made of Redwine finally drenched in a water bucket shower was the crowning achievement for us.

As Bruce Hornsby sings on the refrain of his most famous song, “That’s just the way it is.”

Stanley Redwine and ESPN’s Lewis Johnson get drenched. (Laura Jacobsen)

To see our photo galleries from the four days of NCAA competition, click here.

“Gimme’ A Ball”

The begging mass at Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark

“Gimme’ a ball!”  Over and over again that cry, wail, plea and demand spewed forth from the mouths of children camped right next to the photo bays that adjoin the dugouts at Oklahoma City’s Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark last week during the Big 12 Baseball Championship. Those obsessive cries were beyond annoying.

Please understand there is something very charming when a player tosses or hands a ball to a young fan. That simple act of giving should be accepted as the spreading of goodwill for the game. Instead, it quickly deteriorates into begging from every kid that did not get a ball. Constant begging. I do not want to make this into a diatribe over the degeneration of American youth, but the begging does seem to destroy the very real human wonder of the game of baseball. If that problem parallels real life, so be it.

There once was a day when to get a ball, it had to be earned. That meant camping out along the right or left field lines at Kansas City’s old Municipal Stadium waiting for foul balls hit during batting practice.  It also meant running and jostling in a pack of ball-hungry kids battling for a real prize. Sliding under the straining arms was always a good plan, but most of all a grip of steel won the day. Each and every ball signified a triumph.

At popular local fast pitch softball games in Topeka, bringing a foul ball back meant a piece of candy or bubble gum from the “candyman.” The huge man sitting on the front row by the backstop was never known by any other name. He was just the “candyman” before that name took on an entire new meaning as a teenager.

Of course nabbing those foul balls meant torn jeans, shredded knees, scraped elbows and a filth that often meant a garden hose shower before ever making it inside the house. No wonder cutoffs came into vogue in the 60′s. How else could parents get any real wear out of jeans scarred with torn and battered knees.

Sadly, today it is easier to just stand, beg and whine. Shooting from a high angle during KU’s game against Oklahoma State, I noticed an older gentleman seated all alone in an upper deck section. A foul ball landed a few rows away. The man picked up the ball and began to walk back to his seat. He held up the ball and waved it to someone sitting along the right field line just as a boy arrived with his mother in tow. The boy held out his hands wanting the ball, as though it is a given now that kids get the balls. The man sympathetically explained that he had a grandson sitting below with his parents. The ball was going to stay in the family.

The mother began to walk the boy away as he burst into tears. He continued to cry as he returned to his seat. Finally, the man could take no more. He walked the ball over to the boy and gave it up. I thought about my grandson, now too young to really appreciate a ball, but the time will come.

Hopefully, Jake will never act the way a boy did during Sunday’s championship game.  Out of that horde of screaming kids near the photo bay, one in particular was ceaseless in his screaming. As the game wore on he began to scream constantly in a piercing whine that he wanted a ball given to him even while the teams battled on the field. A man seated a few rows back from the din finally blurted out, “Will someone give that kid a ball so he will shut up.”

An inning later a ball thrown in from the outfield during half-inning warmup tosses flew into the photo bay. Picking it up, I was ready to throw it back to the player, but he tilted his head to the crowd signaling me to give it up. I knew exactly what he wanted. I walked over to the droning boy, handed him the ball and told him “you’ve got your ball. Now sit down and be quiet.” Older fans in the section began to cheer in thanks.

Ka’iana Eldredge signing autographs. (Laura Jacobsen)

Laura made a superb photograph of KU catcher Ka’iana Eldredge signing autographs before a KU game in OKC. The look of awe on the face of one of the boys is wonderful. That is not seen often at the collegiate level, autographs are not as important as getting free baseballs. However, that changes at the Major League level, which leads me to my quest for the only autograph that ever mattered to me.

When the New York Yankees came to Kansas City to play the Kansas City A’s in the late 50′s and early 60′s, they stayed at the historic Muehlebach Hotel. Many players would kill time sitting in the richly decorated lobby. This discovery came while my family stayed at the same hotel during a Yankees series we were attending. My parents set the ground rules for me and my sister. We must use “please” and “thank you” and always address them by their last name with Mister added at the start. If they did not want to sign, we were to thank them and walk away without complaint.

The Mickey Mantle batting practice baseball

The ball full of Yankee greats’ autographs is priceless to me because one of those signatures happens to be from Mickey Mantle. Ford, Howard, Boyer and other Yankee stars are there on the ball I grabbed the night before during batting practice. However, one of the biggest names is missing, Yogi Berra. A cousin of mine has that one, but to get it he had to get his mother to yell endlessly at Berra and hold up the ball as the players sat on the bus heading for the ballpark. Oh, how I wanted Berra’s autograph. My older cousin waved his ball in my face, but I remember thinking even then that his mother got the autograph, not him. I could live without the Berra signature on my ball.

Thinking back, I might not have been any different from the kids in Oklahoma City when I bothered players sitting in a hotel lobby. That realization came to me over the years and my interest in autographs faded, save for one from Hank Aaron. Even my friend, George Brett, was never asked to autograph a ball for me.

My hope is such a realization comes to some of those boys at the Big 12 games last week. Tragically, the begging is likely to continue instead. I just need to remember to bring ear plugs with me next year.

Flying The Flag On Memorial Day Weekend

A flag flying at half mast  is a very common site in America today. While we are not technically at war between our shores, with each shooting or bombing, the loss of life proves we are  far from peace.

The flag you see to the right flew at half mast during April’s Kansas Relays following the bombing at the finish of the Boston Marathon that senselessly killed and maimed. The flag waves on a beautiful hill between the University of Kansas’ Memorial Stadium and the Campanile.

Many flags will wave this Memorial Day weekend. Created to honor those that gave their lives in military service, the national holiday, during the 20th century, grew to encompass general memorials for departed loved ones. The lines that separate those in uniform that have given their lives in the continuing fight for freedom and those out of uniform that have given their lives in our enemy’s continuing fight to destroy our freedom are sadly blurred.

As much as these deaths in and out of uniform wear heavily on us, a look at the photograph below gives hope that our enemies cannot win. These are young KU graduates on May 19th proudly waving the American Flag as they entered Memorial Stadium to receive their diplomas.

Francis Scott Key in 1814 penned three more verses to the Star Spangled Banner, whose first verse became our national anthem. Read now the final verse. It speaks to the eternal hope still symbolized by our wonderful flag – whether flying at half mast or waved by those ready to pick up that flag in the continuing fight for freedom.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war’s desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav’n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust.”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Moore Lessons Beyond Baseball

Some of the destruction in Moore, Oklahoma

Thursday morning began early for the KU baseball team. Asked to appear on the Fox and Friends morning show, coach Ritch Price happily agreed. Coach Price and two captains were to discuss the team’s efforts to aid the victims of the tragic Oklahoma tornado that destroyed a swath of Moore and other Oklahoma cities. To do so meant a six o’clock departure from the team hotel. With KU baseball, that means exactly at six.

The team arrived in Oklahoma City very early Tuesday morning after flying from Salt Lake City after a three-game series against Utah that ended Monday with an extra-inning game. Weary after a short night, the team immediately responded to the needs of tornado victims. The players donated their per diem meal money to buy recovery supplies and delivered them to a donation center before they had time to rest.

A Moore street sign.

The response to the tragedy already is monstrously wonderful. KU is just one of the Big 12 teams to lend a hand as have virtually every team from the nearby University of Oklahoma in Norman, just south of Moore. Factors, from the time of KU’s first game scheduled Thursday to the fact one of the Fox hosts, Steve Doocy, is a KU graduate, led to the invitation. However, the show itself was just part of a greater opportunity.

Price wanted everyone to view the destruction and learn from the sight of such devastation. He welcomes opportunities to educate his team far from the normal classroom setting or ballpark. He quickly made it clear to Fox, that while two captains would speak on the morning show, the entire team and staff would be attending.

Coach Price and Fox Producer.

Unfortunately, the only viewing was from the window of the team bus. Strong thunderstorms with stunning lightening kept the team stranded on the bus as the mobile satellite truck struggled to maintain a signal for the interview. As time ticked away, the producer on site profusely apologized for not being able to get the team on air, Price remained unfazed. He knew the impact the trip down to Moore had on his players.

The media compound spread out in a large parking lot just a short distance from the Moore Medical Center, one of the hardest hit structures during Monday’s tornado. A bowling alley in the same area was so battered the only clue of its purpose was the sight of the wooden lanes strewn now with rubble. Cars were tossed everywhere. Orange X’s signified each were checked for victims. Just getting to Moore and negotiating the formidable presence of police, national guard and recovery workers at such an early hour was a lesson for all.

As we waited in the rain, I ventured off the bus to make these images. Having lived through a monstrous tornado that destroyed huge portions of Topeka in 1966, the sights were not new to me but were still heart-breaking. They will now be the same for all on that bus. Lessons learned are knowledge gained. That is why an early morning wake up call, even on game day, meant everything to coach Price. Along with the nation, the KU baseball team prays for Moore and all of those affected by the Oklahoma tornadoes.

The KU bus parked near the Moore Medical Center.

Destroyed automobiles.

Flushing This Blog Down The Toilet

The day has arrived when this blog sinks so low that it floats in the foulest water. Time for some toilet talk.

This all comes about because of the fancy toilet setup at the Big 12 Outdoor Track & Field Championships held recently at Baylor in Waco, Texas. At the track where Olympic gold medalist Jeremy Wariner once trained, the only restroom facility was a small block building at one end of the track.

A “Very Impressive Pottie.”

To the rescue came Very Impressive Potties. Yes, that is the name of the unit brought in to serve as a needed refuge of relief. This was an outhouse on steroids, or should I say estrogen. Opening one of two doors assigned to men in the five-room rolling unit, a visitor found a small floral arrangement, a decorative tissue box and a sink with running water. Sadly, some could not seem to find the trash opening set into the countertop I almost expected to be granite. Air conditioning and fresheners kept the private setting almost homey.  I just needed a magazine to read.

Sitting down to take care of business, piped-in music lightened the load. Soft rock the first two days and a rerun of a classic Casey Kasem American Top 40 Countdown on Sunday. A bit too sugary for my tastes, but it still beat listening to the buzz of wasps that often rapidly build their nests in the corner of some plastic porta-john left to bake in the summer sun at many sporting events.

Oh, how I know those units. Years of triathlons left me standing in long lines at the break of dawn with other over-hydrated athletes. Mix the usual needs a Johnny-on-the-Job contained with some people’s nervous vomit and you had a three-orifice fun-fest sure to turn a stomach.

Trough urinals in Oklahoma’s Memorial Stadium

During my working career and travels, I have spent time in many a stadium bathroom. I have long thought that trough urinals you can still find in some older football stadiums and basketball arenas are pure genius for passing masses of bladder-bursting fans through quickly. Nothing like the constant flow of water used to keep the troughs remarkably clean to help overcome any performance anxiety as you stand next to four or five of your newest trough friends. However, the lack of doors on stalls at Wichita State’s Roundhouse basketball arena in the early 70′s traumatized me enough as nineteen-year-old to make sure “number two” was taken care of long before I again entered the arena for a game.

In the historic shower room set just outside the velodrome that hosts the final laps of the greatest spring cycling classic, Paris-Roubaix, the winners have their names engraved on plates adorning the cement lockers. They stand in front of the mass shower room where the grit of the long ride over many cobbled sections are famously washed away. It is a photographic honor to be allowed in the locker room as  Laura and I were in 2007. Discretely hidden are the porcelain foot rests that flank nothing more than holes in the ground for nature’s most important cleansing.

Open air urinal at the Tour of Flanders in 2007 (Laura Jacobsen)

Of course for the purest simplicity, nothing beats the walk-up open-air units stationed in a Belgium town square along the route of the spring cycling class, Ronde Van Vlaanderen, the Tour of Flanders. Unfortunately, nothing quite as simple seems to exist for Laura as we travel the world.

That means “drop and squat,” which we discovered during our European travels, is socially acceptable. Hiking over a bluff or to a clump of trees in times of need, we were often greeted by happy cycling fans making their way back to the roadside, toilet paper in hand. The same attitude that thinks nothing of cyclists stopping by the side of road for a “natural break” does not translate at well to the U.S.A.

That leads to one final foul thought. Traveling with friends in Yugoslavia in 1972, we stopped for gas at a forlorn outpost along the coast road leading us to Greece. Using what seemed to be the universal word “toileten” for our needs, an aged woman waved her hands and arms in  an all-encompassing motion. “World toileten,” she pronounced.

Thinking back on that tattered setting in the then communist country, it is easy now to wonder – would American icon Casey Kasem and a Very Impressive Pottie have changed her outlook on life? Funny what you think about sitting on the toilet.

Sitting On The Porch With Fred White

Somehow, a baseball game is just better on radio than it can ever be on television. The game’s pace lends itself to radio. There is time to weave stories around pitches and at-bats that make announcers iconic figures. In the days before every Major League game could be viewed on television or internet, radio announcers were the eyes of all those listening to a broadcast that spread over many state lines for fans far from the ballpark.

Fred White passed away May 15, 2013

Fred White will always be one of those voices meant to call a baseball game.  Two very important people in my life would certainly agree. My mother loved baseball. One of my earliest memories in life is playing in the basement of our home as my mother would take care of the laundry and iron clothes. If it was summer, a baseball game was on the radio.

Eventually, we began to listen to those game together.  We would sit on our porch or in our back yard listening to the Royals’ games. It was Denny and Fred. Matthews and White, but the voice we loved was always White’s. I was working for the Royals while working in Topeka in the late 70′s and then again in the 80′s. During road trips, I often found myself sitting with my mother tuned into the game. She would ask me about players as White would detail each play with his smooth and unassuming style. Those nights took on even more importance after the untimely passing of my father.

Just as important was the time I spent with one of my best friends, Mark Nordstrom, a huge Royals fan. We sat on his porch, beers in hand, listening to games. While games wore on, we delved into everything imaginable until crunch time. Then it was baseball and only baseball. In those days as the Royals flourished, our evenings often ended with Nordstrom dancing a jig of delight over a KC victory.

It would be foolhardy to attempt to add much to the litany of praise White is receiving after losing his fight against cancer. I knew White for 44 years. From the time I began my newspaper photography career, White was always a friend. White was working for WIBW at the time and befriended me from the start. Besides our work, we both shared a passion for playing fast pitch softball.

Later after his move to the Royals’ broadcast booth, White went out of his way to have me join him a few times during spring training to discuss how the team looked to me through a telephoto lens. Many of those afternoon broadcasts were tape delayed until the evening in Topeka. White always reminded me to call my parents to let them know their son was going to be on the radio.

With his passing, many are recalling the wonderful White and the influence his radio voice had on listeners for so many years. No one has a bad word to say about the man. I knew it then, as I still do today. Fred White made those moments with my mother and my friend even more special.