In 1988, we went to Niagara Falls and while riding on my dad's shoulders, he almost dropped me. I don't think I remember this but I think I've been told it so many times that it became a false memory.
As a result my dad ended up doing to the doctor, I'm sure months after he had actually had symptoms but he was too stubborn to admit and subsequently was diagnosed with cancer that had gone into his spine.
I never knew this as a four-year kid. I never saw my dad sick from the 42 radiation treatments, I never remember my parents crying after being told at 37 years old with three children under eight that you only had 30 days to live.
My mom told me as a adult, he went to work as the owner of his plating plant and then drove to radiation treatment, would then come home and eat dinner with us, and then would go for a walk. This is the only thing that changed was I was no longer allowed to go on his walk. He most likely got sick after dinner and didnt want us to see him not strong.
Around the same time, I drew a picture of a stick man with a big circle above his head. I do hold this memory, because I was so frustrated with my speech issues and had to wait all day for my sister to get home to translate two words for my mom to know what I was saying the picture meant... "Daddy's strong"... this will most likely become my memorial tattoo, but of course, I'll have to include him holding a fish while holding up the rock, and they won't be as expensive as his 100k radiation tattoo dots he was proud of!
If the doctors had been correct, the story should end here. His 30 days had passed. Well, Buckle up—we have 36 more years to cover!
1989-90 after his recovery, he did two things that would change our childhoods. We went to Ludington to fish with his new buddy Mark Losey. We ended up parking our 40-ft camper up there and I had the best summer as a five-year old, my sister paid a girl $5 to be my friend and we were for many years. He also took us to Fast Eddy's slot car track that just opened in Jackson. He bought it in 1991 and renamed it Boogie Speedway. He revived his slot car name from the '60s, 'Boogieman" and he renamed his children as well. My brother became Lil' Boogie, my sister Boogie Girl, and I became Baby Boogie.
I, along with him, went on to be national champions due to his choice to raise us as racers. He was a world champion also. I missed a lot of Fridays at school going racing or fishing.
I'll do a quick insert here to continue his stories before I get back to mine. 1992 I remember this, my Dad called and told my mom they had lost a engine on his small plane he was on with a work customer and they had to make a emergency landing in Indiana and he would need to be picked up.
This is probably where my calmness in chaos started because by now this wasn't as big of deal as it should have seemed, we simply picked him up, but if it made his nine lives story I imagine it was not na easy landing.
Throughout the '90s is where I hold most of the memories of my dad. I was worth three poles fishing, the joke that was more important than school, my brother was a teenager and worked and couldn't make all the slot car races so I went along. I was raised by slot cars guys, which is kinda weird to think about now LOL. I could change a motor in no time and in my head was the fastest marshal. We outran a Dericho on the lake once by minutes that caused 20-ft waves, he was almost run over my the S.S. Badger ferry ship in the fog.
On Lake Erie, I fell asleep and he and my brother caught the biggest fish. When I woke up, I said I must still be dreaming. The head and tail were sticking out of our 40-in cooler. I slept on the boat many times so I was on there when he launched at 4:30 AM. I no longer eat donuts due to the amount we ate and I subsequently got sick from on the boat.
The late '90s he moved Boogie Speedway to Jackson Crossing Mall. We were open every day and after school I now became a mall rat. There was no better way to be a teenager. I won't tell my stories from this time!!
As my dad has told many of you and I heard hundreds of times over the last three months as he told another doctor or nurse, he did pretty good until 2010. This is when he was out fishing on Lake Michigan with two friends and lighting struck their boat and fried everything except them. They had to be rescued and towed in. The biggest memory I have from my dad at this time is his advice after two failed marriages. In true Jerry fashion It was very blunt: "It's 2010, you don't have to marry everyone you sleep with."
In 2013 my dad once again was told he had bone cancer in his spine after three years of back pain and to make arrangements for his death. He went for a second opinion and it was determined not to be cancer but his spine was degrading due to the previous radiation. This began 10 years of horrible back pain. He was retired by now and was enjoying helping to raise all his grandkids. Making memories with each of them as he had with us fishing and slot car racing along with the magical Ludington fishing area. In 2017, yet another doctor said bone cancer and yet again he proved them wrong.
2019 is when his stories really sped up. In 2019, he went to the doctor and it showed he had had two previous heart attacks most likely. One of which he later said was probably while he was fishing: he'd felt a bit weird and sat down for awhile but didn't want to stop fishing. He had six-way bypass surgery in December. The volunteer on the floor that took care of my family that day said it was only one of 7seven similar operationsdone of the last 17 years that he had been there. Due to some digestive issues, my dad wasn't released until mid-January, just as COVID was beginning. They would shut down physical therapy and he did his own walking the grocery store holding a cart to get strong again.
By spring he was ready for the spring jig and was back fishing. That summer after fishing the big lake he got on my sisters newly-worked on boat for a calm evening boat ride. When they started the boat, it exploded and somehow everyone got off safe. If you've seen the photos, it's unbelievable.
December of 2022 his back was so bad he was either going to be in a wheelchair and paralyzed or a risky surgery might keep him walking. They fused eight vertebrae in his back. He came through like a champ. Initially there was lots of progress and he proudly posted a photo on his slot car blog of him standing upright once again.
In his true stubborn fashion, he wouldn't wear his back brace and went fishing all of the summer of 2023. 45 times exact. He must have counted each time. His bones were so weak from the radiation the fusion didn't hold completely but he refused another surgery and kept fishing. I believe he knew this would be his last magical Ludington summer.
He had some sickness in July and appetite changes but ignored them.
We had a great Thanksgiving last year with everyone home and together, but we had to cut it short though due to a winning streak of drag racing and heading out to Kentucky for one last race of the season. My dad of course understood the importance of this!
We were all going to Minnesota for Christmas and start our new tradition since my sister moved. I took a voluntary furlough from work and had just planned to have a nice relaxing winter spending time with family. December 13, my Dad got what he thought was the stomach flu. After eight days at home and them missing the day they were leaving to Minnesota he finally agreed to go to the ER for fluids.
We got our cancer diagnosis in the ER that night. This was number nine on his list of stories. As he told the nurses and doctors over the next few weeks, "And now I'm here." We had a flicker of hope when it was falsely diagnosed as pancreatic cancer and turned out to be "just liver cancer." Over the next 10 weeks I got to care for my dad. We talked a lot. One day in the hospital with my sister, mom and I, he told us his funeral plans. He had them written out, for many years actually. This included songs, that must be played loud! 'Play them loud, Jenna": (they will be at his Ludington memorial this July). And he wanted everyone to watch the movie "Perfect Storm," especially the opening where he describes the feeling of going out on the water, the sounds and smells of being "a goddam sword boat captain! Is there any thing better in the world?"
He was a captain. A captain of his boat and the captain of our family. He was a goddamn good one, too. In the first week of diagnosis around Christmas ,I came home and cried to my husband I may not be able to do "this" and he said yes you will. I got my strength from my dad and he knew it. I'm glad I was there to care for him.
We had many good days. Some very frustrating hard ones, too. Somewhere I had to tell him to stop being stubborn. He didn't want to eat the healthy foods or protein powders. He did it his way. He said he wasn't in pain, whether that was a lie or looking over his life I truly believe he couldn't feel pain. He was a legend, he was so strong. Last Saturday, he sat and talked to Mark; they talked about fishing Lake Erie soon. That was his last real conversation.
He peacefully went to sleep Saturday and dreamed about fishing, I assume, until Wednesday when they let him into to the great above to fish and race as much as he wanted.
He is strong again.
