Reinke Faces Life

> Marge says you need to rescan the evy articles…you tried to cram them all on one page and you can’t
> read some of them. Then we can print out here and read!

Don’t have originals. I’ll have to see what I can do with what I got. I read one under a magnifying glass and she scored 15 of the team 30 points. That sounds like Ev.

She told me once about her first game for HFA. As a freshman, she started. And for the first few minutes she just passed the ball to the seniors. Her coach pulled her out and she sat on the bench for a few minutes. Coach Mac then asked her: “You like being on the bench?” “No.” “If I put you back in, will you shoot?” “Yes.” Went back in at the half and scored 17. I believed her.

I’ll have to see if I can find her clippings. I know she had some. Shoulda grabbed them when I saw them. I bet she tossed them as “embarrassing”.

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Our Girl told me another story. That I confirmed during one of the few times I met Coach Mac.

It seems that, at Holy Family Academy, some of the teams they played were somewhere between inept and clueless. She never understood why up by 30 against a team that couldn’t score, Coach Mac kept her and the other starters in the game.

(As the fellow, whom she taught everything he knows about basketball, I understand there are several reasons for doing this. You can’t turn your offense on and off. You have to motivate your bench to work harder, get better, and EARN playing time. It’s a game of momentum and runs. Just because you are beating the pants off someone, doesn’t mean that the basketball gods don’t teach you a lesson in humility. And, if an opponent has a glimmer of hope and thinks they can win, then they can.)

She used to say: “Never understood running up the score. Never understood not letting everyone play. I used to try extra hard thinking that if we had a big enough lead, she <Coach Mac> would put the other kids in. In my junior year, when I was feeling my oats, I asked her. She told me gruffly: “I’ll coach; you play.” But she did relent and put in the subs a few minutes later. And even though I hated to sit the bench, I cheered extra hard for the subs.”

Her gal pals were shocked that she said anything to the Coach. No one had ever done that.

That’s Our Girl, fearless. And even at that age, worried about how others felt.

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No wonder her grammar school girls teams loved to play for her. She was in it for them and only them.

And, when she had her dream 28-1 team, she never ran up the score. A lesson she learned from HFA.

And, if the flu wasn’t rampant that one Sunday — her two #1 guards, both excellent, were out completely and her #2 guard (the one that shoots) was shaky but had to move to #1 duty, she’d have been perfect. That didn’t bother her; she was just thrilled for “her girls” that they could experience the joy of a great team.

(Her team was so good that year, the league officials wanted to throw her out of the league. Good Catholic gentlemen! All the other coaches and league officials were men; Our Girl was the only woman. Probably couldn’t stand the thought of being beaten by a girl. What could she know! Our girl was upset but too nice to call them on it. … … … However, this was a job for “Grumpy Nasty Fat Young Injineer”. Me! Don’t mess with my wife! I spoke up and threatened to take it to the bishop, the various pastors of their respective churches, and the newspapers. They backed off. They didn’t like it, but there was no more talk of ejecting her team because they were “too good”. I may have even use a few nautical terms in convincing them.)

(She had a friendly rivalry with the coach of the nearby Saint Matthias. He was a star in high school and played college. Not great, but good. He had visions of being a great coach. And I think secretly coaching college. So, Our Girl’s team usually played a 2-2-1 press and a 2-3 zone with a man2man every once in a while to mix it up. During the game, if she yelled “mix it up”, then the girls would play the “mix it up” defense. She knew that this rival coach was after her scalp. So the week before the game, she started the first practice of the with: “OK, how would you girls like to learn something new?” This group was a dream because they were hooked from the word “like”. She taught them a 2-1-2 press and a 3-2 zone with a 1-3-1 zone as the mix up. And instead of yelling “PRESS” or “MIX IT UP”, for that week the words were “BOYS” and “GIRLS”. She floored him. His kids virtually couldn’t get the ball up until the second half. At half time, he adjusted. So did she; she went back to the old tactics. Our Girl was no fool. If he could adjust at half time, so could she. After the game, he came over and gave her a big hug and kiss. “Thanks for not running up the score. You really beat me badly. I was ready for your old team and was stunned that you had a new team.” She grinned and said “Nothing but my best effort for you. It was fun. And, I’d never run up the score. Doesn’t teach kids anything.” And, she laughed about it for months.)

Boy, I miss her, her drive, and that laugh. An Irish Vixen. Although when crossed, she could morph into another word for a female. But, she NEVER had a harsh word for any child. Even girls, who played for her, and played badly or didn’t try, would get encouragement. More than once during a game, I’ve seen her call time out, leave the team with her assistants (Tom and I), and go speak to a father about, as she put it, “encouragement; not criticism”. Fearless protecting “her girls”. Fathers never crossed her lines twice. Would have been interesting to see. While she never usually ever said a bad word, I know she knew them. (Addressed them to me from time to time, when I had some fool idea or did something dumb.) She always was a lady. A fierce competitor. And a real true feminist. Her girls were “winners” to her, even if they lost every game.

Yup, I miss her.

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After HFA, she played semi-pro with Coach Mac, in the Bayonne Beer Leagues. I can’t imagine two more fierce competitors. It was during this that she picked up the nickname “elbows”. (Which my Uncle Big John some how found out. I never knew that until he told me. She was in awe of him for being a Golden Glove Champ. So maybe she shared stuff with him. Champ to Champ.) I understand that not only was there some “renumeration for playing”, but there were also “bonuses for winning” depending upon how much the sponsoring bar won. “I’m shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!” Captain Renault in Casablanca. Me too. Shocking. A fine upstanding young Catholic woman being sponsored and “kept” by a establishment focused on drinking and gambling.

I married her to get her away from all of that sin and bad influences.

(She would have had to quit anyway. Quad leg separations two weeks before our wedding. Doc told her “to wheelchair down the aisle”; she said “wanna bet”. Come to think of it, she had an early start make fools out of docs who predicted things about her.)

I wonder what could have been. If she’d been born two decades later? Or, if she had had the money for college? We’ll never know. But if wither of those had happened, I’d have missed the best 43 years possible in my life.

I know I miss her now. Even sick as she was, she could still make me laugh.

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Update: I’ve been corrected it was FIVE weeks before her wedding.

# – # – # – # – # 2011-May-26 @ 11:43

RECEIVED FROM NIECE-IN-LAW (Of whom the State of New Jersey say is no longer related for inheritance tax purposes)

My neighbor sent me a note today- she has been here for many parties- and remembers Auntie Ev fondly. Wanted to share it with you. She wrote:

Dear Megan,

The joy you and your family gave your Aunt was obvious. I can picture her arriving at your house and scanning the activity taking place. As she discovered the where-abouts of each of your children her face would light up. It didn’t seem possible, but as each of your children acknowledged her presence her face brightened even more. Whether their greeting was a distant wave, a hug, or showing or telling your aunt some news, she was delighted by the interaction. I am sure you have many memories of your Aunt to treasure. I am glad I have this one.

Sincerely,
XXX

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Thanks. Nice to know that it was seen by even strangers.

# – # – # – # – # 2011-Mar-28 @ 13:27

Our Girl was always great with my family. Sometimes I though that they loved her more and I was the tolerated in-law. She always went out of her way to accommodate them; even when it was clearly unreasonable. Mowing Grandma’s lawn even though it meant she had to drive the slow riding lawn mower around the block once a week in the hot sun with the dog on a leash for Grandpa. “Meals on wheels” for my Mom. And, doing all the things that needed to be done that needed a woman’s touch. All without complaining.

One reason that Grandma and Grandpa loved her was that, as sound as she realized they were both deaf as stones, she “spoke” to them at the top of her lungs. She used her “basketball court voice” that she developed coaching. When she called a play, teams in the next county were trying to run it. She’d often come home horse and I’d have a headache. But they loved her visits.

So, we’re on one of our road trips in New England. Our Girl pipes up, as were coming down 95, “Let’s swing up Route 7 and visit your Aunt Marion.” Huh? I barely knew that she knew that I had an Aunt. Guess my look said it all. “Grandma was worried so I told her we’d check on her. And, I called Aunt Marion and said we might be by.” Guess it slipped her mind to mention it to me, or maybe she didn’t want to deal with my reaction. It really wasn’t that big a deal. Turn left at Route 7 and three hours or so of more driving, and we’re at Aunt’s house.

We visit. Now Aunt Marion and Grandma were sisters that look alike, dress alike, and sound alike. Our Girl carries on a conversation with Aunt about all sorts of things. With her “coach voice”. Eventually Aunt goes to the WC. I say sotto voce “Ev, it’s Aunt Marion, not Grandma. Aunt’s hearing is perfect.” She looked like she’d kissed a frog, or a fat old white guy injineer.

Aunt comes back and Ev apologizes profusely. Aunt generously says: “That’s fine child. I knew what you were doing. When I talk to Sister, I have a sore throat after. She’s really vain about the hearing aids Micky bought her.” Ev was red. But by the end of the trip, she was laughing about it. We had to go directly to Grandma’s, despite the hour, so Ev could report in. I suggested we do it the next morning because it was so late. Our Girl vetoed that with her trademark scowl. So we went.

She was right! Grandma was sitting up alone in the middle of the night waiting for Our Girl’s report. They sat and chatted and Ev gave her all the details. We got home when the Sun was coming up.

Maybe that’s why I love her? She was a kind soul that would go out of her way to reassure a pair of Sisters to whom she had no real obligation to. And, she even tolerated me going along. Not that I had a choice. It was always her way. And, that way usually turned out to be right in so many ways.

She made the world a better place and me a better person. And, I miss her more each day.   

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MEMORIES: Went down the shore, but …

… It’s just not the same.

On the way down, I didn’t listen to the political shows. Like you tolerated. When you were having those bad days, I put the oldies. I know you were back going to the shore with your gal pals many decades ago. I didn’t want to disturb the happy illusion. Even when you sang the ”Bayonne” lyrics to Petula Clark’s Downtown. That’s how I knew where and when you were.

It was your kind of day. Cold. Street breeze. Tiny waves, sorry.

Parked by the house. Test the size of the posters. Yeah, you’d be suitably embarrassed. They are large. I’ll need H’s help to put them up correctly. Have to behind the faux frame. They should last eons. Much to your chagrin.

Some tourists taking their pics in front of the Jersey Shore house. What rubes! To worship at a shrine to what?

Left the car by the house, walked to Casino Pier, for the exercise, played poker. In those dumb machines.

I was going to have fries if I lost. And lunch if you won. Just like we always did. Cheapest beer if I had to pay. Top shelf if it was on you. … All to hear you pseudo whine “sure when I’m buying, nothing but the best”. Ahh the games we used to play.

But the casino pier manageress broke the spell and asked where you were, looking around for you. What could I do but tell her?

I just finished and left. Unable to complete the mission.

But Jimbo’s was still closed for the season. Any way.

So I went to Klee’s but it’s just not the same.

Maybe it just too soon?

Can’t even think of a good “Church” quote to cover it!

Argh!

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Song lyric when I was driving down: “And what am I gonna do when the best part of me was always you.”

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