
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Musings....

Friday, May 6, 2011
Mother's Day Message

Monday, May 2, 2011

On September 12, 2011, I received a phone call at work from Ed Thompson, my ex-boss at my previous employer. Ed was a native New Yorker, and the first thing I said to him was that on the heels of the World Trade Center disaster it must be an incredibly sad day for all people, but especially for those who lived in NY. His response to me was...
"Yes, especially when your son is at the bottom of the rubble".
His words hit me like buckshot. I was stunned speechless. Ed and Violet Thompson are wonderful people, and now their beloved son Glenn was among the missing and presumed dead. I can't remember my exact response to him, but I knew whatever I said would be unable to give him any measure of comfort.
So below is an excerpt about Glenn that was written in the NY Times.
And to Ed and Vi Thompson; it is my sincere wish that the demise of the perpetrator of your son's death Osama Bin Laden brings you some level of closure. Glenn is in a better place and waiting for you. And I can tell you most assuredly that the cut throat terrorist that tried to take the heart out of America will burn three thousand plus times in eternity.....once for every soul the coward was responsible for taking
World Trade Center
"My Mountain Man" Glenn Thompson loved to be outdoors. He hiked. He fished. He biked. He skied. He climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. And last October, on a mountain pass in the Colorado Rockies, he got down on his knees in the snow (he was wearing shorts) and asked Kai Wittmann to marry him. Mrs. Thompson, as she became when they married in April, has the altitude -- 11,820 feet -- engraved in her engagement ring. Glenn, 44, worked at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 104th floor of 1 World Trade Center. While he enjoyed the camaraderie and the adrenaline rush of trading, Kai said, his work was really a means to an end. His dream was to retire early and move to Colorado. ''He was my mountain man,'' Kai said. ''He was a bond trader and damn good at it. But his heart and soul were outdoors.'' Profile published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on September 21, 2001.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Chaka and Gino

Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Passing of Tiger Great Larry Finch

Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Tribute to Coach Jim Erkenbeck
He was direct from central casting in Hollywood.
A gravel voiced, scotch drinking , chain smoking ex-marine, he could have gotten studio credentials and passed for Lee Marvin's kid brother.
Jim Erkenbeck, a football lifer who was the offensive line coach and offensive coordinator for the 2 time USFL Champion Philadelphia Stars, died Tuesday night at the age of 81.
As an "o" line coach, he was prototypical. Cut out of material that was more sandpaper than chamois, he had a outwardly gruff exterior as one might expect from a cancer surviving, Korean War veteran who chose to make his post war bones coaxing men the size of semi tractor trailers to flatten their opposition. "Wrong answer!" he would shout from his perch in the film room in a tone any DI would be proud of as he answered a players response as to why they missed an assignment, or dare let an opponent touch our QB Chuck Fusina, who he referred to as his "bread and butter".
But those who got to know him knew of the love he had for his players, and the respect he had for what the were trying to accomplish. Jim Erkenbeck was leading his troops to war on the football field, and he knew all too well what that entailed.
Erk's battalion with the Stars included Bart Oates, Irv Eatman, Chuck Commiskey, George Gilbert, Joe Conwell, Joe Happe, Bill Duggan, Mike McClearn, Ron Coder, Brad Oates, Rich Garza, and Scott Burris among others. As protective of them as a mother to her cubs, he could ream them out unmercifully, but it was his domain and responsibility to do so, no one else's. And everybody affiliated with the team knew it.
His coaching tour of duty had NFL stops in New Orleans, Dallas, Los Angeles, Kansas City and Oakland. But when I asked him several years ago whom his favorite team was, his response was as pointed and direct as if he was obeying a direct order. "The Stars, Dunes" (my nickname with the team) he said, "and it isn't even close"
So I salute my fallen commander one last time, and thank him for helping me become a champion. If I had twenty-one guns I'd fire them all in a final successive show of respect. And blow taps on a mournful bugle at sunset.
I'm sure Lee Marvin would have expected a similar send off.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Odds and Ends
