Under Reconstruction

After sitting dormant for nearly a decade, I figure it’s time to start over – so I’ve hidden most of my old posts for the time being while I re-evaluate this forum and format. Years ago when I was writing somewhat regularly on here (long before things like Substack existed), I was wandering between thoughts on current-day baseball, football, music and movies; some social/political commentary (amazing how little has been accomplished on those issues in the years since!); personal memories spurred by news of the day; and my lifelong interest in family history.

I’m looking forward to relaunching soon with a much more focused intent, likely on my family history-related research and stories and travels. So, odds are some of those old posts will re-appear, but maybe get completely revamped in the process (after all, perspectives and experiences change over a decade). I’ve spent the past couple of years attempting to write a book on the subject, which all started with a couple of the family history posts I had here back in 2012 or ’13, so maybe this will be a forum to get some feedback on partial chapter drafts.

Anyway, if there’s anyone out these still following this blog after so many years of inactivity, stay tuned!

Saying goodbye to Midge

Midge’s three children gathered with family to celebrate her life.

It was a brilliant fall day in Palo Alto, the type of fall day you see in California and not too many other places. Sun shining, birds chirping, slight breeze.

Fourteen of us gathered for a private service at the cemetery to pay our respects and say a final goodbye to my grandmother, Marjorie Winter Johnson. Many of us hadn’t seen each other in years, in some cases decades, and I don’t know when or even if some of us will see each other again.

However, on this day we gathered, listened to some thoughtful words from a minister that were perfect for this occasion, and individually and collectively we remembered Midge. From my great aunt Florence, herself in her 90s but spry and witty as I remember from my youth; to my mother and her two brothers, Midge’s three children; to my daughter Sarah, not yet 20; four generations and untold numbers of memories were represented.

Remembering Grandma Midge

Marjorie Elizabeth Winter Johnson, 1917-2014

I write this in memory of my grandmother, Marjorie Elizabeth Winter Johnson, who passed away early today at the age of 97. Hers was a life well-lived, full of grace and dignity. She was the only grandparent I ever really knew, and she had a huge influence on me that has continued to this day, and one that lives on in my daughter.

Marjorie, or “Midge” as she was known, was the daughter of a man who worked his way from teenage office boy to Chairman of the Board of Atlantic Mutual Insurance Co., and she knew the value of education, determination, and preparation.

The Brooklyn Theater Fire of 1876

I’ve been doing a lot of family history work lately…I’ve dabbled in genealogy research for decades, and I’m constantly amazed at some of the discoveries that I make even to this day…long-lost stories of people, places, and events that I knew no connection to until my research found one.

As many as 300 people perished in the blaze on December 5, 1876 in Brooklyn.

One of those stories centers around one of the great American tragedies of the 1800s, the Brooklyn Theater Fire of 1876. I learned a bit about it years ago reading my great-grandfather’s unfinished memoir, in which he tells the story of his own mother’s experience at the time of the fire.

It turns out I had four family members who perished in that fire, which occurred during a highly-anticipated performance that had a packed house. My great-great grandmother, who turned 30 just two weeks before the event, had a ticket as well and only missed the show because she got stuck at work while her four brothers (two brothers and two half-brothers) attended…and all four died. Had she made it to the show, I wouldn’t exist, as she undoubtedly would have perished as well and my lineage would have stopped right then and there in 1876. 

‘Feel’

Robbie Williams’ Escapology album

These are the lyrics to a song called “Feel” by British singer Robbie Williams…aside from really liking the music, these lyrics have struck a chord with me ever since I first heard them on his Escapology album, which was issued back in 2002…a lot’s happened in my life since then, and these words ring true now more than ever…

Come and hold my hand
I want to contact the living
Not sure I understand
This role I’ve been given

The impact of a champion

Shannon Quigley Runningbear at an event at UCSD in 2005

This Sunday the fourth annual Shannon Runningbear Beach Volleyball Tournament takes place in Long Beach. The tournament, organized and run by friends of the late educator, raises funds annually for a program at Long Beach City College that provides basic skills education and mentoring to at-risk students. Shannon created this program, named the STAR Program, and was a force of nature in ensuring its success and the success of its students.

Shannon was a close friend of mine through the years, dating all the way back to our time in college at UCSD together in the late 1980s, where she was an NCAA national champion athlete in both volleyball and track & field (a campaign honoring her is underway at UCSD to construct a new track & field scoreboard at the site of her greatest athletic achievements).

As this year’s beach volleyball tournament approaches, I went back to a piece I wrote immediately after her passing in 2009. Here it is…