07/27/2024
88 Minutes in the Stroudsburgs
It's a beautiful day in the Poconos when you get up with the sunrise, grind fresh coffee, and answer your overnight emails sitting in bed, sipping a perfect cup of steaming brew overlooking the Lake.
After the year you've been through, it's pretty damn glorious.
Once everything is in play for the day, you start moving quickly, hustling to jump in the car with your second Yeti full of morning brew. On your way, you're hydrating, and it tastes so good.
Your car knows exactly where you're going. You've done it so many times before.
Still, after 40 years, you always park across the street from the backdoor of Rudy's. It's where you met her. Where you talked for hours. And like a portal of hope, love, and dreams, you never stopped parking in that spot.
After you look, latch, and leap from your car, you start walking, smiling at the memory of the stretching exercises Doc Martinelli instilled in East Stroudsburg athletics in 1981. Back then, Doc's stretches probably prevented injuries. Now, with your aching 60-year-old carcass, you imagine the stretching itself causing pain and injury.
You groan and suck it up.
No pain, no gain, baby!
Behind Rudy's, there's a sloped approach to get on the flood d**e to the Levee Loop. The grass simmers with dew, as you feel your toes getting wet. And you think to yourself, we're off.
Your cellphone has a super easy stopwatch, and you press Go after you take a few steps on the Loop. Watching the time start to spin, instinctively you walk faster.
This morning you head north, immediately passing the Dansbury Park Pavilion. You remember your Teener League end-of-season parties and think about Coach Bobby George and his wife Linda. Later in life, you learned Coach Bobby George was a Vietnam War hero. Back then, the coach’s strategy was picking a team of brothers. And, what a team! Sam Courtright, Al Strouse, Bill and Steven Schouppe, Buddy and Dale Buzzard, John and Pete Martin, Doug and Dan Nevins, Sam Capone, my twin Kevin and I, and others... One of the years, someone thought water balloons were a good idea. That was fun.
100 yards later I'm passing the Dansbury pool picturing our Football Coach Ed Christian holding court. During the summers, Coach ran the pool. With all the cast of characters at the pool, Coach always had a good quip and a laugh.
You smile but every step hurts. You squeeze your stomach muscles against your herniated disc, to keep your back in check. And with all the cancer meds you squeeze your ass cheeks, so you don't accidentally s**t your shorts. It’s a balancing act.
Another 100 yards and I'm passing the baseball field of legends, also our ESYA football practice field. You cringe seeing the overgrown infield and wonder why they can't keep that field great. You can hear Coach Reynolds telling the team to hit, hit, hit.
Junior year. Only 2 losses to Pocono Mountain prevented a league championship. Both games were 1 to 0. All year we pounded the ball and hit over .350 as a team, but we couldn't get past Knecht and Smallacombe.
You laugh recalling the bright orange jerseys you wore for American Legion baseball. That season Jon Mark, now Judge Mark, took over as coach, and we went on a 6 game-winning streak. You went 13 for 13 to start the season and hit over .700. Good times with Jon Mark and Buddy Buzzard stopping at the Daisy Bar in Wind Gap, on the way home from wins in the Lehigh Valley. You can still savor their cheeseburgers and chocolate peanut butter shakes.
You glance left and the view over our Brodhead Creek is amazing.
You turn back and remember Coach Keglovitz hitting fungoes to our outfield. Coach was tall, played college basketball, and coached our high school basketball team, but he loved baseball. Seneca and I still laugh at the amazing stories told by Van Meter and Miller. Sh****ng fungoes that year was the best...
In left field, you can't help but look and see my classmate Gregg Hartmann's old house. Gone too soon, brother, gone too soon.
Thoughts of Gregg power you on...
Soon I’m passing Aunt Betty's house when the East Stroudsburg Little League field emerges. For 30 years my parents helped run the league. The Press Box was named after Horace and Sonya Cole. They loved every moment of it. I volunteered at the concession stand and wrapped millions of redfish into plastic baggies. In return, I got to announce dozens of All-Star games.
In the distance, you can see the Purple Pit and hear Horace's voice over the public address system. "Tackled by a host of Cavaliers..." For 25 years Horace announced the football games. His son Adam Cole has announced the games for another 15 years. His daughter Denise is the Athletic Director, and his grandson Zach is a football coach.
You remember all the Cavalier legends that played on that football field.
You remember how hard you worked to walk on senior year and get on that field to make a few tackles. Coach Arnold, Carty, and Rose busting your butt to keep getting better. Coach Galante yelled in your ear when you needed it. And you thank God every day you did it.
Soon enough you're passing where our other high school baseball field used to be. Jim Litts cleared that field to give us a new baseball diamond for our senior year. You remember every player and Coach Johnson's dreaded lingo, "We love to run." Damn, we were in better shape than the track team.
You never forget getting beaned in the face in the first game of your senior year by a left-handed slider. 25 years later the eye surgeon said, "Look at this MRI, you can see where the baseball hit your face." For 25 years you lived with double vision that you didn’t know you had. The doctor said it's not uncommon for people to adapt to it. Looking back, I only noticed it after a 6 pack of beer. But I always figured everyone else got bleary-eyed after a few drinks, too. You pause and ponder the things you did with double vision for 25 years.
You're almost 2 miles in, and you're hurting.
On one shoulder you've got Tage and Caiazzo in your ear busting your ass. Ralph says, "Sit down Lewis, you're tired, you're slow." Tage says in his now lawyerly voice, “Kell, you don’t have to do this.”
But those guys make you power on. Almost immediately you’ve got Transue, Seneca, and Mesko busting your ass to get it done. You hear Mesko in his deep voice, "Come on Kells... Don't listen to those Stroudsburg guys."
You know you’re past halfway. Soon you’re walking across the Stokes Mill bridge. Someone got brilliant and renamed it Mill Creek Road. But you know most people from town will never call it Mill Creek Road.
3 miles in, your legs are burning. You think about stopping but in the deep recesses of your brain you start hearing fraternity brothers screaming in your face. "Lewis. Lewis. What are you doing, Lewis? You told me you were motivated, Lewis. Embrace the suck, Lewis." Memories flood your brain of your pledge class and the brothers you pledged to join Zetes. You never want to hear those guys hazing you for being weak.
And just like that, any thoughts of quitting quickly end.
Now you’re passing the Stroudsburg, ESU ballfields. You marvel that organizations in town finally worked together and did something awesome. Creek View Park is fabulous. Congratulations to everyone who made it happen. Special thanks to Attorney Joe McDonald for sharing the 65th-anniversary booklet of Stroudsburg Little League. How special it was to learn one of my mentors in life, Doug Schoonover founded Stroudsburg Little League in 1949.
As you pass the fields, your muscles are aching, and now it’s your brothers bugging you on. Each brother, Brandon, Chris, and twin, Kevin, has a unique voice to keep you hustling. Brandon, the US Marine, says, “Kell, get it done.” Chris, the brilliant computer whiz chimes in, “I don’t know why you think this is so hard?” Kevin says, “Yo,” and that’s all I need to hear.
Of course, every hiking memory with my brothers culminates in the epic tale of my father deciding we should hike up the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware Water Gap from the point of the Gap visitor center on the Portland side of the Gap. To this day, we wonder how we got to the top, and joke that Brandon was only 6 or 7 years old when we did it. Dad was so intent on getting to the top of Mt. Minsi that he forgot it was late on a Sunday when we started. Soon, we were hustling, then jogging down the fire tower road to get off the mountain before dark. We laugh at the puzzled look of the owner of the coffee shop when Dad said, “Can you watch my kids while I jog back to my car at the point of the Gap?” Dad didn’t drop us off at Mom’s, until almost 9:30 pm, and she was visibly upset when we gushed about our adventure with Dad. It's always a good laugh.
Now, I’m crossing the Interborough bridge. Everyone walks faster crossing the Interborough Bridge as the cars fly by. When I cross the bridge, I always think of Sheriff Todd Martin and his 19-year battle with multiple myeloma/blood cancer. Todd and I ran for elected office together in 1995. Todd took me to fire company breakfasts and events around the County. Until then, I had no idea how hard you had to work to get elected to office. Todd worked hard and campaigned nonstop. In 2000 when I ran for State Rep and knocked on 12,000 front doors, Todd was one of my top inspirations. I didn’t want to let him and other supporters down, so I worked extra hard, visited thousands of homes, and listened. Listening and working together were the two big things Todd Martin always championed.
As I walk past Mesko Glass, I’m keeping up my pace, in case John or Ed think I’m loafing. Then, I’m walking behind the East Stroudsburg Elks. So many generations of family and friends were in the Elks. Today, the Elks is ably led by President Kelly Klingel Kelley. I walk past the Elks and remember the famous nights before the Turkey Day game when the Elks hosted the Huddle. They were fun nights between the men of the Stroudsburgs. It’s still a major disappointment that they did away with the Turkey Day game. There was something special about playing football at 10 am on Thanksgiving with the whole town watching the big game.
Quickly, you’re passing the Salvation Army, appreciating the work they do for so many. My mid dwells on housing affordability. It’s never been harder than ever to rent or buy a house in the Poconos. You pass a couple of homeless people and go out of your way to say Hello and wish them a good day. My mind bursts with ways to help the homeless and housing affordability.
And before you know it, you look at your stopwatch and wonder if you beat 88 minutes or got close to 80 minutes for the Loop. After chemo, and the stem cell transplant there were many times when just finishing the Loop made me happy. After a lot of hard work, I was trying to beat 80 minutes and earn the praise of John Prevoznik. John’s a local attorney and able philosopher. We’ve always enjoyed great conversations, sometimes pretty deep. I enjoy listening to his uncanny recall of facts and figures. John and his beautiful wife, Michelle, bought my grandparents’ house in Stroudsburg. They love the house as much as our family did and they’ve made it even nicer. It’s special when a childhood memory not only still exists decades later but is even nicer and better!
But I mention John because when I was struggling, dealing with cancer, and trying to stay strong, John saw a Facebook post I made about finishing the Levee Loop in 88 minutes. He pulled me aside and told me 88 minutes was a good time. True to form, John had some facts and figures that made me feel special about finishing the Loop in 88 minutes.
I remember that walk well, because like my father all those years ago on the Water Gap hike, I started my walk late, and as it started getting dark, I was past halfway so turning back wasn’t an option. The darker the sky got, the faster I walked. At Yetter Park, I was using the flashlight in my cell phone to light the way to my car.
During that year of chemo, stem cell transplant, and isolation due to my weakened immune system, somehow, I mentally changed the 88-minute time to 80 minutes. I never checked my old Facebook post to confirm the timing. In my mind when I started walking in 2024, I needed to do an 80-minute Levee Loop.
In my fun way, of giving everything a nickname, I started calling my quest to get an 80-minute Levee Loop, The Prevoznik. Sometimes, I take a leisurely walk around the Loop and enjoy the scenery and memories, I call that a lazy Susan day. Other days, I get motivated and want to do an 80-minute Prevoznik.
So, with the highest intensity, I looked down at the stopwatch on my cell phone to read, 76 minutes and 46 seconds.
Wow!
Crushed the Prevoznik!
Now, I know it’s not the Olympics or setting any land speed records. But it’s special to me, and I’m grateful for everyone cheering me on for the past two years.
Thank you!
