Nothing really to report

It’s been forever since I’ve blogged. Then again, what have I really had to blog about? I’ve spent almost the entire time at home since my last post.

How boring has my life been? I got excited over having to drive to Salina last week to have my windshield replaced. There was a crack running along the middle of the windshield, and although it wasn’t affecting my vision, I had to get it fixed. Lucky for me, November is a slow month.

After getting the windshield fixed, I did sneak down to Wichita. Not for long. I”ll be back this Saturday, since Norton is playing Wichita Collegiate in a state quarterfinal football playoff game.

Speaking of Norton, I went to the game there last Tuesday vs. Marysville. I went mostly to go eat after the game with Peggy Cox, since we had not been out since July, before my world collapsed around me. At least I didn’t encounter any deer on the drive between WaKeeney and Norton.

I’ve had two therapy sessions with Crista since I last posted. It’s been mostly about the same subject, the wee hours of July 18, and the person who sent my life into a downward spiral. No, it’s not her fault, but I wish it would have turned out differently.

Tonight is the 40th anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. The freighter carrying 26,000 tons of taconite iron ore pellets sank in Lake Superior during a hurricane-force storm. All 29 crew members perished. The ship was heading to Detroit to offload the cargo along Lake St. Clair, and then dock in Cleveland for the winter.

Captain Ernest McSorley got stupid and decided he could sail through the storm, which was the force of a strong Category 1 hurricane. Smooth move, Ex-Lax. Sadly, he nor his crew lived to regret the decision.

Most people know about the incident from Gordon LIghtfoot’s 1976 hit song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Billy Fitzgerald, who coached Moneyball author Michael Lewis in basketball and baseball at Isidore Newman School in New Orleans, had a son named Edmund. He was born only a few months before the wreck.  Edmund was a baseball teammate of none other than Peyton Manning at Newman. I’m sure many Newman opponents played the song to anger the Fitzgeralds.

About David

I am a sportswriter for a group of weekly newspapers in small towns across northern Kansas. I grew up in New Orleans, went to college at LSU and wandered in the wilderness until Hurricane Katrina finally put me on the path to my current job.

Posted on November 10, 2015, in History and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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