Loss of friend also a loss of family

Peewee basketball isn’t usually a remarkable event. Parents cheering for their kids, kids dribbling the ball off their legs more often than they make a basket.

However, it was a peewee basketball game that led to a lifetime friend, who changed the course of my life.

I was in my 20s and coaching a group of second, third, and fourth graders. It was a Saturday morning and just our second game of the year. As the first half ended and both teams headed off the floor, I caught the eye of the coach of the other team. We had never met, but as we walked across the gym, I said to him, “You know what I wish?”

He looked at me, not quite sure what to make of me. “What?”, he asked.

“I wish one time I could go out there and play so I could be the biggest player on the court.”

He thought that was funny. Or maybe he was just laughing out of politeness.

And so began my friendship with Greg.

It wasn’t long after before I discovered that he was a runner, too. And I began meeting him at his house about 5:45 every morning. Except for Saturdays; those were the days we would go to races together: 5Ks, 10Ks, the occasional 15K. On one particular Saturday, we ran a 5K in the morning, and another that evening.

I was single at the time, and he and his wife invited me to dinner, probably unaware of what they were getting themselves into.

That one dinner led to dinners at their house most nights of the week, and we dined together with their two younger sons. Their two older kids away, including a daughter in college.

I knew I was truly welcome when I arrived one evening, but instead of cooking, the planned meal was Mexican TV dinners. There was even one for me.

Had I eaten over too much?

Apparently not. Because not long after his wife told their daughter that she had this guy she HAD to meet. Their daughter, Tracie, groaned, but, unknown to me, agreed to meet me. The agreement was that if she liked me, they would invite me over that evening.

No need to guess where I ate that night.

Tracie became later became my wife. And my friend Greg was now part of my family. It’s not the path that most take, but it worked well for us.

That friendship of more than 30 years ended this past Friday, July 26. The sense of loss and the void left behind are staggering.

Greg was a true Renaissance Man. He loved to turkey hunt. And each year found him producing a large garden.

I knew he loved to run, but I didn’t realize he had only just started a year or two before we met. At that time, he smoked and wasn’t in very good shape. But he decided to try running with Tracie. So donning a pair of old blue jeans and tennis shoes, he his the road with his daughter.

A short time later, he was lying on his picnic table in his backyard, trying to regain his breath. Always the competitor, Greg was determined to improve, which led to his eventual running of Pike’s Peak Marathon.

He loved history, and could be found reading books from in period in time, but especially World War 2. And his love of astronomy took him outside with his telescope on many evenings. In addition to his garden, he kept bees and had fresh honey at his house.

We spent many weekends running, or watching college football, or playing a game of Chicken Foot dominoes.

Age and injuries had already slowed us both down on our runs, but the visits were still good.

His varied interests led to many friendships. Greg touched the lives of so many people over the years, from those he worked with to players on his peewee basketball teams.

And sometimes even the coach of an opposing peewee team.