I really did have a great time in America. I spent quality time with all four of my children, and got to celebrate two life changing events with Kate and Christopher. Katie and her husband John are only a few months away from crossing that abyss from young free wheeling thirty somethings to the revelations awaiting the October birth of their first child. Christopher has just accepted a job with Collins Aerospace at a salary that eclipses any of my 45 years of coaching. And the grandkids are all growing up and doing it well. Jason's oldest, Jacob, finished his first year of college with a sparkling 3.94 GPA -I'm going to get the professor who gave him an A- released from his duties-and Lauren and Allie have pretty much decided on1 Drake-the University, not the rapper-for their landing place. Braylon and Riley are now first graders; RoRo is reading up a storm and1 Bray rarely took a break from quizzing me with addition problems. I got to spend time with longtime friends, one of whom played ball with me at Cornell-actually he was good enough to allow me to play with him on two really good teams. Another was a high school chum who became a sports writer for the Chicago Trib, was instrumental in starting the journalism school at DePaul University, and has authored several successful books. And a third has been equipment manager at MSU while a guy named Izzo got all the credit for coaching numerous teams to the NCAA Final Four and won the 2000 championship. I can't fail to mention the hospitality of Karrie Sekal and that big guy she's married to who can find nowhere on the green to stand where he doesn't cast a shadow over your line to putt. Yes, it was a great month until Lufthansa screwed it up for me-and for thousands of other travelers. The flight from ORD to FRA was routine. The prompt landing allowed for plenty of time to reach the next leg of the trip, a two hour flight to BCN, except that flight never happened. The plane was a go but the crew decided that striking to make whatever point needed to be made was made with an exclamation mark. That was obviously not the only crew with issues against management. The rebooking line stretched for over two football fields even though they opened a dozen or more stations, but when a representative explained the alternatives, it become clear that I was probably going to end up paying property taxes in FRA. I booked a train as far as I could rather than opt for the uncertainty of plane travel. That's why I am sitting amid twenty or so fellow travelers of varying descriptions at 3 am writing to try to keep from freezing to death in Basel, Switzerland. I assume they are all traveling, but I Suspect some don't have a home to go to. The train arrived here at exactly 1 am, long after any food options were available. I am neither going to try to describe my 'companions' nor have the audacity to take a picture. We are thrown together, united only by chance and a desire to get the hell out of Basel. I'm guessing that most have a destination in mind and that someone awaits their arrival. I am booked to Montpellier; my train leaves at nine and arrives at three. At my age lessons to be learned seem few and far between. However, no longer will I dismiss someone who approaches me for a handout with disdain. I may not honor their request, but I vow not to ignore them or say NO with a sneer. It's 3:28 am. I am about to open my suitcase and put on a sweatshirt. My guess is that some of my companions may not have that option.
