Hello, everybody. After the journal entry last night, I rolled Henry’s bed down right opposite the couch where I sleep, so we are head to head. His breathing was different, labored, I guess you would say. I lay awake listening to him until after 4 am, planning to write today about his early baseball life. Got it all blocked out mentally, and suddenly it was time for breakfast. Could not move him to roll him to his other side, most uncooperative, but got him to eat a bit and chew ice chips. He would start to chew and then just stop. I would say, Honey, chew! He would shake his head as if coming back from somewhere, and commence to chew again. The hospice nurse and aide arrived simultaneously. He did not respond today to April May and June. They checked him over – rattling in the lungs, hands swollen and turning blue – those of you have been through this know the drill. They decided on no more baths in this life, but he was not conscious of the victory. They estimate 24 to 48 hours until The End. Even through this day, things are changing quite rapidly. Morphine every two hours now, and it seems to be a cumulative effect, he is very quiet tonight.

I sat by him all afternoon and as long as I talked to him he would stay calm. Stop talking and the agitation started. Johnny and Shirley stayed through much of the afternoon. Musical Coterie friend Donna happened by our street and on inspiration stopped in – Heavenly Father is definitely in the details here. Donna and husband are tennis friends of his as well. Called the kids – Peter and family fly in tomorrow noon; Anne and Bobby arrived tonight – his mom is keeping the girls at their house in Springdale; Allison will stay the night while Chris stays at home to get the kids off to school tomorrow. So, we sit by him, hold his hand, talk to him. He was very hot a while ago, so rubbed him down with cool cloths and administered an anti fever suppository – have not done that project since the kids were very little. He is resting better now. We wait. We call family, we alternately sigh and laugh as we talk of him, and we wait.

So, here is a baseball story: told by his brother John. During junior college days Henry and some friends formed a fast pitch ball team and played local clubs in the summers. Though he preferred short stop, they needed him as the catcher. John was the little brother tagging along as ball boy, so he was there the day a fellow player informed Henry that “complete” ball players chew tobacco, and cut him off a chew, with instructions on chewing, spitting, and not to swallow. Henry did pretty well until he went after a fly ball behind the plate, and by the time he got under the ball, threw off the catcher’s mask, and caught the ball, the chew of tobacco accidentally disappeared down his throat. No matter, that inning was over, and Henry came up to bat, but a little woozy. He got a hit (of course – he was a great hitter) and staggered, actually wandered, to first base. When he was advanced to second he paused to “toss his cookies”, and kicked dirt over the deposit, somewhat embarrassed. By the time he arrived at third on the next hit, he was crawling down the baseline. John said this was the only game he has every seen time called due to laughter. Both teams finally realized he was quite sick, and cheered him on as he managed to crawl the baseline to home plate. There is no record of a repeat chewing tobacco episode.

Another comment: while living in Hobbs, New Mexico, early marriage days before the kids came along, Henry took up with a great ball team, sort of “semi-pro”, in that their uniforms and equipment were sponsored by various businesses around town. Had to tease him, he did not get Mac’s Auto Shop or even the Dairy Queen; across his broad back advertised “Klassy Kurl Beauty Salon”. He was good with it – the other guys were Mexicans and illegal Cubans and really good ball players who loved the game and had a wonderful time, and he loved playing with them – all games played “in Spanish.” I don’t remember another wife ever attending, I always sat in the stands alone. When we were transferred, he was really sorry to bid goodbye to that team. Wish we could have kept the Klassy Kurl uniform, I would have framed it.

Bye for tonight – have so enjoyed the entries on the guestbook – thanks to one and all.

Bonnie and the Cook Family