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Thursday
March 11, 2010 Since 1922 |
Ken and Bobby in one day
By Jim Finley
Contributor Published October 2, 2009 The irony wasn’t lost on me. It was like night and day.
See, on the same day I attended Good Guy Ken Donovan’s funeral, I got an invitation to attend Good Guy Bobby Brown’s birthday party.
Services for Ken, 79, were held 10 days ago. Bobby turned 80 last Friday.
One event was draped in sadness but with a significant sigh of relief since Ken had suffered mightily with the dreadful amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) for four years. ALS is often referred to as Lou Gehrig’s disease because it finally “struck out” the great New York Yankee slugger, something few mere mortals could do.
In Houston, Bobby’s kids – brothers Bobby V. and Jeff and sister Gay Brown Darling – tossed the old coach a surprise party. A conflict kept me from joining the merriment. It was my loss.
Most of us knew Ken. He’d been here for 45 years and spent most of that time teaching. Highlands Elementary, De Zavala, and Baytown Junior were among his stops.
Even after he “retired,” he came back to substitute almost daily until he contracted ALS. But he wasn’t going to make it easy on this vicious disease, not as long as he had a wooden paddle and blackboard eraser in his hand. (Are blackboards still black?)
You probably don’t remember Bobby, but I introduced him to you 18 months ago when his wife, Jo Ann, died unexpectedly at age 74. By pure happenstance, I spotted Jo Ann’s obituary and tracked Bobby down. We hadn’t spoken in a number of years.
The Browns were just wonderful people when I was a kid back in the old homeplace. I think they may have even liked me a little.
I told you last year that Jo Ann served as a co-host for the baby shower they tossed for Wife Margie when we were expecting our first-born, Robin.
Here’s something I know for sure. Ken and Bobby would’ve liked one another. They had something in common.
Bobby was a teacher and coach at my old high school. These teacher types always stick together. At least they did AGAINST me. (I was definitely misunderstood.)
I called Bobby and wished him many happy returns.
Keep moving the chains, coach (football jargon)!
At the same time, I was still thinking of Ken and his wife, Grace, and all their family. What sadness they’ve seen over the past four years.
I thought Ken’s sons, Jason and Doug, did a fine job speaking about their daddy at the burial ceremony. They made us laugh – good therapy at funerals, I believe – recalling some of Ken’s most playful moments.
(NON-EDITOR’S NOTE: At the service, I was surprised to see longtime friend Tommy Gentry – or was that Perry Como? – leading the singing. I didn’t know Tommy could sing, but it was appropriate because Tommy stood steadfast by Ken’s side through the years.)
I, too, have a favorite memory of Ken. Only this memory was multiplied many times over.
Once, we were neighbors to Ken and Grace in the less holy but manlier neighborhood along Harold Lane. I can’t tell you how many times I saw Ken drive past our house in a white pickup with this giant dog riding in the back. Or maybe it was an elephant.
Whatever, weren’t nobody going to mess with Ken, not with Godzilla there in the back of that truck.
At the service, we had a wonderful visit with Grace. She said the most remarkable thing through this ordeal was how Ken conducted himself knowing what he faced.
“He never said, ‘Why me?” Grace told us. “His main concern was for the family and me. Even under these circumstances, he put everyone else above himself.”
You know what, Grace? Lou Gehrig would’ve been proud of your husband.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published October 2, 2009 The irony wasn’t lost on me. It was like night and day.
See, on the same day I attended Good Guy Ken Donovan’s funeral, I got an invitation to attend Good Guy Bobby Brown’s birthday party.
Services for Ken, 79, were held 10 days ago. Bobby turned 80 last Friday.
One event was draped in sadness but with a significant sigh of relief since Ken had suffered mightily with the dreadful amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) for four years. ALS is often referred to as Lou Gehrig’s disease because it finally “struck out” the great New York Yankee slugger, something few mere mortals could do.
In Houston, Bobby’s kids – brothers Bobby V. and Jeff and sister Gay Brown Darling – tossed the old coach a surprise party. A conflict kept me from joining the merriment. It was my loss.
Most of us knew Ken. He’d been here for 45 years and spent most of that time teaching. Highlands Elementary, De Zavala, and Baytown Junior were among his stops.
Even after he “retired,” he came back to substitute almost daily until he contracted ALS. But he wasn’t going to make it easy on this vicious disease, not as long as he had a wooden paddle and blackboard eraser in his hand. (Are blackboards still black?)
You probably don’t remember Bobby, but I introduced him to you 18 months ago when his wife, Jo Ann, died unexpectedly at age 74. By pure happenstance, I spotted Jo Ann’s obituary and tracked Bobby down. We hadn’t spoken in a number of years.
The Browns were just wonderful people when I was a kid back in the old homeplace. I think they may have even liked me a little.
I told you last year that Jo Ann served as a co-host for the baby shower they tossed for Wife Margie when we were expecting our first-born, Robin.
Here’s something I know for sure. Ken and Bobby would’ve liked one another. They had something in common.
Bobby was a teacher and coach at my old high school. These teacher types always stick together. At least they did AGAINST me. (I was definitely misunderstood.)
I called Bobby and wished him many happy returns.
Keep moving the chains, coach (football jargon)!
At the same time, I was still thinking of Ken and his wife, Grace, and all their family. What sadness they’ve seen over the past four years.
I thought Ken’s sons, Jason and Doug, did a fine job speaking about their daddy at the burial ceremony. They made us laugh – good therapy at funerals, I believe – recalling some of Ken’s most playful moments.
(NON-EDITOR’S NOTE: At the service, I was surprised to see longtime friend Tommy Gentry – or was that Perry Como? – leading the singing. I didn’t know Tommy could sing, but it was appropriate because Tommy stood steadfast by Ken’s side through the years.)
I, too, have a favorite memory of Ken. Only this memory was multiplied many times over.
Once, we were neighbors to Ken and Grace in the less holy but manlier neighborhood along Harold Lane. I can’t tell you how many times I saw Ken drive past our house in a white pickup with this giant dog riding in the back. Or maybe it was an elephant.
Whatever, weren’t nobody going to mess with Ken, not with Godzilla there in the back of that truck.
At the service, we had a wonderful visit with Grace. She said the most remarkable thing through this ordeal was how Ken conducted himself knowing what he faced.
“He never said, ‘Why me?” Grace told us. “His main concern was for the family and me. Even under these circumstances, he put everyone else above himself.”
You know what, Grace? Lou Gehrig would’ve been proud of your husband.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.