STEVE SMITH -- What’s up?

Our trip last Sunday to participate in the Heart & Sole 5K walk was

supposed to be a show of support for my mother-in-law, Catherine West,

who had heart surgery about two years ago. No hassles, no complaining,

just, “Rise and shine and let’s go help grandma.”

At 7 a.m., I woke up the kids and started the daily ritual of trying

to get them from point A to point B without creating an international

incident.

Bean was fine. A little slow that morning, but at least she didn’t

complain. Roy, however, was firm in his resolve. “I don’t want to go on

the walk!” he said, pulling the covers over his head.

But that morning wasn’t too bad. Roy got up after a few minutes and we

piled into the van to drive to the Spectrum in Irvine.

The master plan was to teach the kids about giving. Since it was the

Sunday before Halloween and the kids were anticipating their annual

lifetime supply of candy, Cay and I started our seasonal counterbalancing

efforts early by committing to the run.

Bean and Roy were supposed to make some phone calls and personal

appearances to raise sponsors for their walking efforts. They were two of

the three walkers in our group who officially registered and, by walk

day, had raised $10 each -- $5 from Cay and $5 from me.

OK, so their fund-raising efforts fell short, but having seen them

both in action for other causes, I knew it was not because they didn’t

care. It was just that they were particularly busy in the days before the

walk doing the important things that kids do each day.

There were seven walkers in our group: my mother-in-law; Cay; my

niece, Dana Hines; her father, Lewis Hines; Bean; Roy; and me.

Roy and I teamed up at the starting line but not by design--we just

got lost. After half a mile, we met Cay. That’s when Roy voiced his first

complaint. ‘My legs are tired!” he said.

I reminded him that not only had he completed the walk last year but

in the interim had climbed Yosemite’s brutal Mist Trail up to the top of

spectacular Vernal Falls. Roy, in fact, was the first one to the top,

practically sprinting the last quarter mile.

The last thing Cay and I wanted was to drag a boy with tired legs

around the streets of Irvine, so I started to play a game with him. I

took a little rubber ball and bounced it high in the air. It was then

Roy’s job to catch it in a paper cup he had used for drinking water on

the walk. It worked. He soon forgot about his tired legs and started

having fun.

In between throws, I described to him how the money we raised was

being used to help people with heart disease and how blessed we were to

have a family in such good health.

“Do people die from this?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

Fifteen minutes later, I upped the ante in the game. Not only did the

bounces get higher and higher, but he was now facing major league

baseball’s greatest hitters in his efforts to prevent them from hitting a

home run.

The bounced ball was a hit by, say, Babe Ruth. Catching the ball in

the cup was catching the Great Bambino’s hit and getting him out in

center field.

Ruth, Gehrig, Mantle, DiMaggio, McGwire, Sosa, Aaron, Ernie

Banks--they all faced Roy’s glove. One by one, he nailed each potential

home run. He took particular delight in getting out Willie Mays, knowing

that, in my opinion, Mays is the greatest baseball player who ever donned

a uniform. Mays always hit the highest, toughest balls to Roy.

We had a blast. As we neared the finish line, however, Roy stopped. On

the grass about a quarter-mile short of the finish line was the row of

large, red memorial signs that are placed there each year to honor those

who had succumbed to heart disease. For several minutes, Roy walked

slowly past the signs, reading each one, his cup at his side.

“Daddy, are these people dead?” he asked.

“Yes, Roy. They died of the heart disease we’re raising money to

fight,” I said.

We walked on. Willie Mays hit only one more ball up to Roy, a massive

shot into center field which, unless Roy caught it, would give the Giants

the World Series. Roy was waiting, however, and he caught the ball,

placing his hand over the cup to keep the ball inside.

A minute later, Roy became the first in our group to cross the finish

line.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer. Readers

may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at (949) 642-6086.