...for he trod on the tails o' me coat.
Normally it's just the walking stick I use to take the weight off my bad leg. But last Sunday it was me shillelagh as I went walkin' in honor of two men I hold (or held) dear; my own father, and the former Timbers great Jimmy Conway of Dublin.
Conway is dying of the disease that killed my father, robbed of his life by the death inside his own head. He lives on in the hearts of his friends Mick Hoban and "Timber" Jim Serrill and through them to those of us who know them. When Mick sent out a call for the Timbers soccer community to join in the Alzheimer's Walk the past Sunday I was proud to join. I hobbled alongside my Bride as far down the track - the event was held out at North Portland's motor racetrack - as I could before we headed back home. I wish I could do more, but I'm not a physician or a neurologist. All I can do is walk and damn little of that. But walk I can, and did.
To the immortal memory, pop. I hope you and Jimmy raise a glass to yourselves wherever it is that the souls of the living dead are gone.