AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 21 - State College, PA - Memorial Side Trip to MI

Mike Stack - 1949-2014

Alexx with cousin Anne Ready's family

Our trip to State College, PA, would be a mix of fun and sorrow.  We would be getting to see my cousin Anne (her father is my mom’s older brother), her husband Rich Ready, and their two kids, college soph Jonathan and high schooler Trine (TREE-nuh).  But on the sad side, as I told you last week, Diedre’s very close college friend, Mike Stack, had passed away.  His funeral is set for this Tuesday.  After some discussion, we decided Diedre should take Zippy the Honda and make the reasonable (400 miles) drive to the Detroit area on Monday and then return to State College the day after the funeral.  I would stay at AB1 and take care of the kids.  This would be a tough time for Diedre as Mike is the first person from her college group to pass on, but her going and seeing some of the rest of the group will be good for her.
     We reached State College the afternoon of Sunday, August 17.  You may well know that State College is the home of Penn State University, one big-ass college.  In fact, the city civilian population (42,000) more than doubles (86,000) when school starts in the fall.
     After pitching camp, we made our way over to the Ready household to join them for dinner.  Each family had surprises for the other: 1) Anne and Rich told us that Rich, a professor in agricultural economics at Penn State, had taken a similar teaching position at Montana State University in Bozeman, MT; it was a big surprise, the best part for us being that Montana is on the 2015 AB1 travel route, so we’ll be able to see them again next spring.  2) We surprised them when, out of the blue, we asked Jonathan what kind of volleyball player Eric Dushon was (you’ll recall that in last week’s blog, I recounted the chance meeting with Eric’s parents on the Niagara River Rapids Trail and because of their “PENN STATE” T-shirts, our conversation progressed to the point where the husband allowed as that he had been Jonathan’s volleyball coach and that his son, Eric Dushon, had been a teammate of Jonathan’s).  Just like on TV sitcoms, Jonathan started answering the question, but after several seconds, did a world class “double-take” as the whole family wanted to know how we knew Eric.  It was pretty funny.
     The next day, Diedre left for Detroit and Mike’s funeral.  This would be the first time either of us would be spending a night in AB1 alone … well, with Charlie, Casey, and Samantha, of course.
   

 I had decided that since the Ready’s had so graciously lent me Trine’s car (she will soon get her driver’s license, but as of today, does not yet have it), I would take a day trip to South Williamsport, PA, the home of Little League Baseball.  It was just my good fortune that the Little League World Series was going on that week, and it was just a 90-minute drive to their ballparks.  It was an excitement for me that goes back to my childhood, which a lot of people think was just a few days ago.
     Just outside of State College, they have an interesting way of discouraging tail-gating (the car-behind-car thing, not the drink-too-much-eat-too-much thing you do before football games).  They put great big white dots on the road spaced a set distance apart.  The sign then tells you to stay at least two dots behind the car in front of you.  Pretty easy, pretty ingenious.
     I was so excited to be going to South Williamsport for the Little League World Series.  They estimate that over 60,000 people travel there each year for these games.  The LLWS helps supply the local economy with 30-million in tourism dollars.  This year would be the 75th anniversary of Little League Baseball; the first game was played here June 6, 1939 (coincidentally, just six days later, the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown first opened its doors making it also 75 years old).  Little League is now the world’s largest organized youth sports program with 200,000 teams in all 50 states and in 80 foreign countries.  I played Little League in St. Louis Park, MN, from 1961-63; those were three of the most exciting years of my youth.
     Unfortunately this being the times and all, even the innocent LLWS has to take precautions.  Surprised at its presence, I bumbled through their state-of-the-art metal detector, setting it off three times.  First I forgot my phone, then my ring, and finally my belt.  Geez!  It’s like being back at the airport, only with courtesy this time.
     I figured it would be all downhill from there, but the day and the site turned me around.  Believe me when I say that everything there is absolutely GREAT!   

Doing my ritual ball field walk, I found the same wonderfully massive “Casey at the Bat” statue as we had seen last year in Amarillo, TX.  I then looked for a good seat.  There were a ton of people completely surrounding the field, but since all these games were losers’ bracket games, it was just a tad less crowded.  Plus, being a single, I could grab a seat where often people left one seat open between themselves and other people they didn’t know.  I found a great one between home and first in the 6th row.  Better yet, it was just out of the sun and it was behind the team parents who were also a lot of fun to watch.
     Each of the 16 teams there (eight American teams and eight international ones) was guaranteed playing a minimum of three games (for the most part, you were eliminated once you lost two games).  So even though the Rapid City, SD, nine and the kids from Czechoslovakia had each lost twice, they would play each other in a consolation game, and it would be the first one I would see.  South Dakota won 5-3 even though the little Czech lead-off hitter surprised the heck out of me by starting the game with a home run over the right-center field fence.
     The second game was one where the loser would be eliminated.  I watched a strong Texas team eliminate the boys from Washington 11-4.  One incongruous visual was when the 6’ tall Washington pitcher had to face the 4’9” pinch hitter from Texas.  Just like Eddie Gaedell, the only midget to ever play major league baseball, the Texas boy worked his way on base with a walk.
   

 Everything about Little League is miniaturized in about a 2:3 ratio, i.e. baselines, pitchers’ mounds, fence distances.  Although they do sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” they can’t wait till the Major Leagues’ standard middle-of-the-7th-inning, because Little League games only last six innings.  So, they sing it in the middle of the 4th inning.  The only time the miniaturization doesn’t work is when it comes to having six adult umpires and seven adult maintenance workers.  That many big men on that tiny baseball field makes it look like a bunch of Gullivers have invaded the Lilliputian Little League park.
     A new look I’m having trouble getting used to is how many of the fan-fathers wear baseball hats down OVER their ears like it’s the middle of winter.  That looks about as stupid as the new ball caps with the flat brims.
     Ahh, different generations.
     The games were spaced out pretty well, so after watching a little of the Venezuela-Mexico game and then taking a quick walk through a very fine (but miniaturized) Little League Museum (interesting museum note: George W. Bush was the first Little League graduate to become President of the United States), I had to get going.  It was an hour-and-a-half drive back to the campground.
     Tuesday was a big day for me and the whole Alexander family.  Cousin Trine had started researching the Dorothy Dunmeier (Anne’s and my (maternal) grandmother) family tree for a school project.  Amazingly, she had found out that we have relatives, both living and dead, near State College.  Three of them, in fact, were Revolutionary War veterans and one of them is buried in Centre County (State College’s county) not too far from Anne’s house.     

     Trine and Anne figured out that Randall Stover, a distant relative still going strong at 94, had restored the family cemetery in 1998 near Woodward, PA.  So on that day, Anne and Trine took me out to meet Randall and then have him show us the family cemetery.
     We first drove to Randall’s house which he had built by hand and still lives in alone.  His family has been on this property since 1894.  He’s a fun old guy with plenty of spark left in him.
     We headed out to the family cemetery.  It was funny, but a variance granted by the city allows us to drive right onto and through the current, non-related farmer’s property, going right between his house and the nearby barn on our way to the cemetery.
    The more than two-hundred year old, Hennig-Neidig family cemetery is quite scenic if small.  The relation buried there who I had come to see was my great-great-great-great-great- … let’s see, how many is that? … OK, one more “great,” grandfather, Christophel Hennig.  Old gramps came to Pennsylvania in the early 1700’s from Kisselbach, Rhineland, Prussia.  He owned a 700-acre farm right where we now stood.  I had goose bumps as I touched his grave stone.  His wife and children were also buried there.

     When we got back to the campground, we spotted three fire trucks at the camp manager’s house just a short walk away from AB1.  I immediately had visions of all the nearby woods going up in flames while I was racing over to AB1 where in no short time, I’d have to put the slides in, bring the levels up, and drive out of there before AB1 was all ablaze.  Fortunately for the kids and me, it was just a kitchen grease fire that the manager had managed to put out by herself.  The firemen were there to check her out for smoke inhalation.  They took her to the emergency room, but she ended up being OK.
     So it was first fire one day followed on the morrow with torrential rains.
     What next?
     Yes, I had scheduled a tour of the Penn State campus with Anne and PSU student Jonathan.  It’s really a beautiful campus, although it was hard to tell what with the intense rain and all.  Anne showed me all that she could between our sprints from one building to the next.  We then met up with the rest of the family for lunch at “Spats Speakeasy” followed by dessert (sugar-free for me, Diedre) at the college’s wonderful “Berkey Creamery,” a practical retail part for students at the school’s College of Agricultural Sciences.  It’s one of the most popular places on campus.
     Anne then had the incredible grace and persever-ance to join me on my self-guided tour through “The Penn State University All-Sports Museum at Beaver Stadium.”  The day’s highlight for me (after the wonderfully rich, yet sugar-free ice cream at the Creamery) was that I got to touch the 1973 Heisman Trophy won by Penn State running back John Cappelletti.  That’s got to be right up there with me posing next to the Minnesota Twins’ two World Series trophies.
  
  Diedre returned from her trip to Detroit and immediately got back into it as she cooked dinner for all of us at the Ready’s.  We had purposely not gone out for dinner that night so that we could watch the 13-year old, girl phenom, Mo’ne Davis, as she tried to pitch and win yet another game for her Philadelphia team in their Little League World Series game against Las Vegas.  Apparently a few other people wanted to see the game.  Attendance in Williamsport that night was over 32,000 fans, more than most of the major league games being played that evening.  Mo’ne played well, but unfortunately, her team lost.

 

The next night we were back out at the ballpark, this one being Medlar Field at Lubrano Park, to see the State College Spikes, a St. Louis Cardinals’ minor league team in the New York-Penn Class A League.  We managed to drag Anne and Rich with us.  We were fashionably sporting our new “WHO” and “WHAT” baseball T-shirts we bought in Cooperstown (You know, “Who’s on First?”)
     In front of 3,005 somewhat wet fans on “$1 Beer Night” as well as “$1 Hot Dog Night for College Students” (of which Diedre is still one of them), the Spikes, after trailing 3-1 going into the bottom of the 6th, then sent 11 batters to the plate in each of the next two innings scoring 7 runs in the 6th and 6 runs in the 7th.  All nine hitters in their order got hits and all but one scored; seven of the nine had RBI’s in quite a late-game hitting exhibition.
     The team’s program was nice, because not only did it tell you about all the players, but more importantly, it showed you where each concession stand was and what each one was serving, making it particularly easy to find exactly what you were looking for.  The strangest food on the menu was something called “a walking taco.”
     I have no idea.
   Diedre really lucked out.  After missing yesterday’s trip to the college’s extraordinary creamery for ice cream, she actually found a small branch of the creamery at the ballpark.  From there, it was mint-chocolate chip all night.  I was allowed my obligatory “one bite.”
     It was wonderful!
     The Spikes ended up winning 14-3 (raising our home-team record this year to 10-4) .  They’re leading their division and are only three games away from clinching the title.
     The exciting night was topped off by a splendid fireworks show.  Best yet, we managed to stay dry for the entire evening.   

 Friday night we celebrated our week with Anne, Rich, Jonathan, and Trine as Diedre served up a genuine, campfire-cooked, “Hobo Dinner” at our campground.  It gave the Ready’s a chance to meet AB1 as well as Charlie, Casey, and Samantha.  They were charming, as usual.  We ended the night by telling horror stories around the campfire (Mine had to do with the I.R.S.).
     Saturday meant just one thing:       HERSHEY!
     Yes, we finally agreed on a day for our pilgrimage to that Mecca of Chocolate, Hershey, PA.  We were both way too excited, however, and it showed:  Diedre went sans belt while I simply forgot to zip up.
     Silly us.
     In years past, I had a few chances to come to Hershey, for free no less, in the 80’s when I was the State Director of “The Minnesota Hershey’s Track and Field Meet.”  After each meet, five of our state champions would then be invited to Hershey to compete in “The National Hershey Track and Field Meet,” all expenses paid, of course.  As state director, I had the option of going along as a chaperone.  Unfortunately, I was also the Minnesota state softball director then and August, when the Hershey Nationals were held, was always the busiest time of the year for me regarding our massive softball program.  We had approximately 75 regional and state softball tournaments going on that month which I ultimately had to oversee, so I always sent my assistant director, Randy Claussen from Pipestone, MN, to Hershey in my place.  And he’d always come back with wonderful tales of the whole town smelling like chocolate.  Now 25 years later, I was finally going to be able to achieve “Hershey-Nirvana.”
     Milton S. Hershey (the “S” stands for “sweet-tooth”—a lot of people don’t know that) was the first person to mass produce chocolate bars and make them affordable for the working class.  Up until then, chocolate was reserved for the “well-heeled.”
Milton had only a 4th grade education; he learned the confectionery craft as a teenager, although he failed in his first two attempts to become a chocolatier.  He introduced the first Hershey Bar in 1900 and opened his company in 1905.  So dominant were his confections in this small town in central Pennsylvania that all the city’s streetlights were made to look like “Hershey Kisses.”  Why, as Diedre can attest to, even the yoga classes there are chocolate based.  When Hershey died in 1945, he gave his entire fortune of $60-million to the local orphanage he founded in 1909.  It goes on today as a school for underprivileged kids.
     At Hershey World, the place was crazy crowded with kids.  Here's how bad it was:
     I saw a guy wearing a “Desert Storm” army hat and even HE looked worried.
     We enjoyed the entire chocolate atmos-phere, once a total way of life for me although now just a nodding acquain-tance.  Still, it was a lot of fun.  Diedre had a chance to hold the world’s largest Hershey Bar (retail sales).  It weighed in at five ponds.  There was even an informative yet entertaining ride we went on where the process of making chocolate was crooned to us by three singing cows.
     The only disappointing part of Hershey was that, as I said earlier, I had been told that the entire town smelled like chocolate.  But when we got there, no smell … no whiff … no luxurious odors wafting in the air.  I was quite disappointed.  Apparently, in the years since my pal Randy Claussen had been here with the track kids, Hershey had moved their factory out of town and into the rural countryside.  That wonderful Hershey smell in the city went with it.
   

 Side note: The Duck Soup Softball Fiasco, a tourney invented by my buddy Alps and me and which has been going on in its wacky fashion this weekend every year since 1983, had a couple get married on the field this year, a first for the Fiasco.  I ran the event its first 20 years and I’m so proud of everyone who has kept it going.  On January 20, 2011, Duck Soup Softball sent a check in the amount of $19,147.58 to Dollars for Scholars. Dollars for Scholars will award a single $1,000 scholarship for each of the next 22 years under the Duck Soup name. Since it's inception in 1983, Duck Soup has raised and donated $92,090.19 to various organizations. Of that amount, $85,197.58 was awarded to St. Louis Park students and youth programs.
     I just had to tell you all that.
     Now … on to Pittsburgh!