The topic has come up often in our home. Jean reflects upon the many wonderful friends and experiences we have shared over the years due to our sports involvement.
Many times, as we transition from one event or season to another, the experiences tend to be woven together like a t-shirt quilt. The quilt warms you, but once you pause to take the time to consider the significance of each individual section, the true meaning of the work encompassing you conjures up past memories.
As October’s last Monday flashed upon the calendar, the funerals of two patches of that quilt combined for a day of reflection. Just hours apart, services for Nellie Byham and Chris Downs gave those in attendance opportunities to remember and reflect upon lives that were different chronologically but similar in the way they treated others with respect, dignity, and humor.
At her funeral, one speaker referred to Nellie (wife of longtime area sports personality Bill Byham) as a supportive wife who played a secondary role. All successful teams need role players to accomplish team achievements. Nellie and Bill were a successful team, as testified by the outpouring of eulogy remarks.
Nellie and Bill were a package that entered our lives directly via sports. Bill was my high school basketball coach, and the couple later became life-long friends. We enjoyed many good times together and heard just about as many tales of Nellie’s teaching and community involvement as we did Buck’s sports interests. They were both fun-loving characters, and friends shared many laughs over some of their exploits.
I have always fondly remembered the ‘meatloaf’ tale. Coming home from an afternoon game, Bill was looking forward to dinner the Nellie was fixing that evening. Days later, I asked about the meal; the response was classic. Nellie took the ‘meatloaf’ wrapped in tin foil from the freezer and placed it in the oven. As they sat down for the meal, the unwrapped tin foil revealed a very well-done date & nut bread. We have laughed about it ever since.
Even in her final weeks, her sense of humor remained. During a visit, the conversation turned to the revealing clothing women were wearing. Out of her memory bank archives, she told the story of a long time ago when she and Bill were out with friends. Spotting a lady attired in a revealing blouse, Nellie’s friend called it ‘a peek-boo’ blouse. Upon which Bill responded, “Nellie once wore one of those, but when men peeked, they booed!”
Nellie Byham left us at 93. Unfortunately, Chris Downs departed at an all-too-earlier 53. While time with Chris was not as extensive, I remember those occurrences with fondness and respect.
I first met Chris during his days at the Williamsport Sun-Gazette, where he served as associate sports editor. There were occasions when I covered sporting events for the newspaper and would leave a stadium press box to rush to the newspaper office to file a story before an 11:00 p.m. deadline. I knew what I wanted to write, but being ‘technology-challenged’ presented problems. In those instances, Chris was always calm and helpful, and somehow, he managed to get my stories to press before print deadlines.
Years later, our paths and love of baseball crossed again when he joined Little League International as the organization’s Director of Publicity. Broadcasting Little League World Series games, he was my go-to guy for help and information. He often went beyond the call-of-duty and fulfilled my requests to send photos to Webb Weekly to accompany stories I had written.
Chris’s funeral presented various trappings of the game both of us loved, including the following testament to baseball, printed on the service leaflet:
“If everyone played baseball, people would have more empathy,
They’d know what it feels like to strike out.
If everyone played baseball, people wouldn’t be spoiled,
They’d know not every call goes your way.
If everyone played baseball, people would be more resilient,
They’d know you can’t make a great play if you’re dwelling on an error.
If everyone played baseball, people wouldn’t be so selfish,
They’d know sacrificing could help a team win.
If everyone played baseball, people would be tougher,
They’d know a ball off the chest is part of the job.
If everyone played baseball, people would be more humble,
They’d know getting out happens more than getting on.
If everyone played baseball, people wouldn’t be lonely,
They’d have the whole world to play catch with.”
In baseball terms, Nellie and Chris were not the stars of the team. But the Byham family and Little League Baseball would not have been the same without their caring contributions. Their October 28th sendoff has resulted in their names being penciled in on the lineup card of a much higher power.
