Pedaling Pilgrim Blog Home

After a 6+ year battle against cancer, my dad passed away this past October. Today would’ve been his 80th birthday. There’s a small celebration in his honor today in South Carolina with some friends and family. It’s a day I would like to be in two places at once, but my commitment to moving my daughter and starting this ride were made long ago. Though I’ll be thinking of him much today I’m sure.

Early in my dad’s working life, he started a career with Wurlitzer. He sold and managed jukebox and vending machine leases for a while, then he moved on to pianos and organs. The organ business is where Wurlitzer was flourishing at the time and my dad did well, moving into various store manager and regional manager roles in the Midwest and Easrern US.

In the 1970’s he bought a CB radio that we used on a few long road trips and frequent travel to his family back in Indianapolis. We each had our own “handles” and took turns having friendly conversations with long haul truckers (those not condemned to Dante’s 4th or 5th level). My dad’s handle was the Organ Grinder.

My dad’s wishes were for his body to be donated to medical students for use in their studies. He often said, “…please don’t bury me down in that cold, cold ground.” The University of South Carolina was happy to receive him (they seemed especially excited about getting a body with double knee transplants). The students are not allowed to know the name of the person, but they do request a brief bio and any nickname the family wants to provide. With a tongue-in-cheek nod to his past and present state, one of my sisters resurrected his CB handle and introduced him as the Organ Grinder. I know my dad would get a laugh out of students harvesting his liver, kidneys, spleen above his Organ Grinder toe tag. (Note: I don’t know that he had an actual toe tag as such, but that’s how I picture it.)

The last several visits I had to my dad, he was always trying to donate clothes to me. I don’t know his motives at the time; perhaps he thought his time was running short and he wanted to continue his legacy through his attire. it started with some shoes… I was visiting and he asked out of the blue, “What size shoe do you wear?” We generally wore the same size, and in three visits I took home three different pairs of New Balance that he said were comfortable, but didn’t look as good in reality versus the pictures on line. Once I took home a shirt and tie that he wore at my daughter Sarah’s wedding; I complemented him on it and the next visit it became mine.

A year or so before he died he asked, “What size pants do you wear?” I told him that was a sort of ridiculous question, he was a 36×30 and I’m 32×32; I thought the difference in our physique was obvious enough, but maybe he just wanted me to have the ability for a full “Larry Hager look”. I had to try on a pair of his pants just to prove to him it was a silly suggestion.

On my penultimate visit, he asked, “What size underwear do you wear?” I said, “Dad, I’m not trying on your underwear.” His response, “Well, come have a look. They’re the most comfortable underwear ever. They have this cooling material in the fabric so it feels like you’re not even wearing underwear!” Me: “Dad, I’m not trying on your underwear.” I refused to even go into the bedroom with him wearing my previous modeling took place. So, my dad passed away likely disappointed that I couldn’t dress up as Larry from head to foot.

After he passed away, Christin and I went to visit his wife Claudia. It was time to start clearing out some of his things, namely his clothes. I took away all of his “Life Is Good” t-shirts that were distributed to his grandkids. I took away a pair of socks that read “My Best Beer Socks” (that I actually gifted to him years ago and seem unworn). I took away two pairs of slip-in Skechers like Howie Long advertises: I’m a grandpa and might as well start embracing my old-manhood. And, I took away one pair of Duluth Trading Company Armachillo underwear, size large. I imagine these are the cooling briefs that my dad wanted me to try on. Though I’m a medium (see, I knew they wouldn’t fit!), I took them anyway.

And now, these beautiful green underpants are making the 3,700 mile cross country trek with me and the boys. I imagine all of the interesting places these underwear will see. I know my riding partners will be covetous of this possession, and probably wishing they too were traveling with their dad’s intimates (Jerry Lecy – meet us in Wisconsin with your best Fruit of the Looms!) please look for these green briefs in future photos from the road!

I imagine these underwear being much like my favorite children’s story when my kids were little.

If you don’t know the “What was I scared of” story, go out and buy The Sneeches and Other Stories today. I expect this story will represent an encounter on our journey, where we’re out of our element, like picking a peck of snide, and we have an unexpected and uncertain merger with a strange character! Or, maybe we’ll create our own unexpected encounters as we camp in the wild!

At any rate… thinking of the Organ Grinder today, and all you in Greenville toasting his life… I’m not sure our route today will enable us to raise a toast, but we will soon.

Dad played the guitar and sang. He was hired at age 13 to perform at a wedding, and he last played publicly at my daughter’s wedding. He loved a lot of music, and this John Prine song was a favorite of his to perform: Please Don’t Bury Me

Nearly forgot… for you Strava folk, here’s our map today: Day 2: Corvallis to Champoeg State Park. I’ll try to remember to put these on prior day posts in the future.