Stroker McGurk
If you pay attention in life you'll really meet some great people. If you open your heart wide they'll get in and stay there.
For years and years and years.
Stroker McGurk was my Dad's great friend. His wife and my Mom are still close friends. Growing up in a small town affords you some real living too because Stroker and Frenchie are my friends too, and their daughters were like little Fuzzy's as we all grew up.
My first memory of Stroker was one of great admiration.
More like adoration.
I sat with my Dad as McGurk raced around the tracks at the Holland Speedway. My siblings and I were screaming our fool heads off when Stroker crossed the finish line first.
As the years passed the adoration only grew. Every time I saw him in the years after that, I remembered that I thought he was great.
His greatness never paled in my eyes.
McGurk was always laughing with us.
He entertained us with an amazing yodel a time or two.
We used to ride to the dumps together every Saturday, and we shared a beer or two once we all passed the age to do such things.
I never met a person who didn't love the man.
All day yesterday his photo was front and center on Facebook. I'm not sure he'd know what Facebook was, but he'd be proud that so many people sent love to his family.
Because he loved his family.
And there were hundreds of people in his family.
About twenty years back McGurk drove us to the Aud to watch a prize fight. Boom Boom Mancini was the highlight of the fight card, but Boom Boom lost that night, much to our dismay.
But it was such a great night.
We took turns running to get beers from the stand.
John went in the 3rd round of the first fight on the undercard.
I went in the 8th round.
McGurk went in the 13th round.
He missed the knockout.
As the next fight started McGurk said he wasn't getting burned again.
He was going first.
The 2nd round started and he headed off.
The fighter was knocked out before he even reached the beer stand.
And we laughed about that for years.
Last summer I saw McGurk at a party. I told my Mom I was going to say hello.
"He may not remember you," my mother cautioned.
I sat at his side.
He smiled.
"How're you doing Bezerk?" I asked.
I had called him that since I was 5 years old.
"Good, Fuzz, how are you?" he asked.
I'm gonna' miss him.
But he's not far away.
In fact, he's smiling right now.
Right in my head.
Right next to my Dad.
For years and years and years.
Stroker McGurk was my Dad's great friend. His wife and my Mom are still close friends. Growing up in a small town affords you some real living too because Stroker and Frenchie are my friends too, and their daughters were like little Fuzzy's as we all grew up.
My first memory of Stroker was one of great admiration.
More like adoration.
I sat with my Dad as McGurk raced around the tracks at the Holland Speedway. My siblings and I were screaming our fool heads off when Stroker crossed the finish line first.
As the years passed the adoration only grew. Every time I saw him in the years after that, I remembered that I thought he was great.
His greatness never paled in my eyes.
McGurk was always laughing with us.
He entertained us with an amazing yodel a time or two.
We used to ride to the dumps together every Saturday, and we shared a beer or two once we all passed the age to do such things.
I never met a person who didn't love the man.
All day yesterday his photo was front and center on Facebook. I'm not sure he'd know what Facebook was, but he'd be proud that so many people sent love to his family.
Because he loved his family.
And there were hundreds of people in his family.
About twenty years back McGurk drove us to the Aud to watch a prize fight. Boom Boom Mancini was the highlight of the fight card, but Boom Boom lost that night, much to our dismay.
But it was such a great night.
We took turns running to get beers from the stand.
John went in the 3rd round of the first fight on the undercard.
I went in the 8th round.
McGurk went in the 13th round.
He missed the knockout.
As the next fight started McGurk said he wasn't getting burned again.
He was going first.
The 2nd round started and he headed off.
The fighter was knocked out before he even reached the beer stand.
And we laughed about that for years.
Last summer I saw McGurk at a party. I told my Mom I was going to say hello.
"He may not remember you," my mother cautioned.
I sat at his side.
He smiled.
"How're you doing Bezerk?" I asked.
I had called him that since I was 5 years old.
"Good, Fuzz, how are you?" he asked.
I'm gonna' miss him.
But he's not far away.
In fact, he's smiling right now.
Right in my head.
Right next to my Dad.
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