I am blessed. My second grandson was born this month. His name is Noah. Like his older brother Caleb, he is perfect. People have told me for years that grandkids are different from your kids and they are right. I can’t speak for others, but my grandchildren are perfect.

Having two grandsons has caused me to spend a lot of time lately thinking about my grandfather, John Bert Moore. John was married to my grandmother, Allie and they had seven kids, two boys and five girls. My Dad, Gene Moore, was the younger of the two boys and fifth in birth order. John and Allie raised their family in a three room home at the corner of Matthew and Mulberry in Sesser, Illinois. The little home was only seven hundred square feet in total, not including the outhouse.

To me, as a young child, my grandfather seemed to be a giant of a man. The father of my father was bigger than life. We called him Pop. Like my grandsons now, to me, my grandfather was also perfect. John Moore was a big man. 6’2”, 250 lbs. He made his living and supported his family as a coal miner and farmer. He mined the coal for income, when the mines were operating, but farmed his little piece of land and raised pigs to feed the Moore clan. The food we know as organic today, my grandparents … well, they just called it food.

When I was seven years old, Pop bought me a pony. As an adult, I’ve since learned that all the grandkids thought he bought it for them … “but me and my Pop” … we knew the truth. I didn’t mind letting the others think of my pony as theirs. Pop and I kept the fact that the pony was mine our secret. Dynamite was his name. He was a little black and white Shetland pinto pony. Pop would saddle him, pick me up and place me in the saddle and lead me around the barn. For a while, I was Davy Crockett “King of the Wild Frontier.” I always felt so loved by my grandparents, but my Pop … he always paid special attention to me.

Pop wore “OshKosh b’Gosh” bib overalls every day. On Sundays for church, he wore them with a white shirt and tie. When I was five, he bought a little pair of denim overalls just like his for me. Every day for Thanksgiving week, while we were visiting, he would wake me up at 5:00 AM. I would put on my bibs, just like Pop. He would hand me a little plastic bucket and we would walk out to the barn and we would talk. He would fill his big galvanized bucket with coal and put a few of the black rocks in my bucket. We’d walk back into the house and dump the coal into the furnace so the house would be warm when the others awoke. It was my favorite time of day with Pop. He would start cooking breakfast and we would continue to talk about anything and everything. I wish I could remember what he said. Since the births of Caleb and Noah, I have thought a lot about my time with Pop.

Pop, a man who never finished grade school, gave me my first lesson in economics. One day while walking on a gravel road, I was shuffling my feet in the rocks and dust. Pop stopped, stooped down to my eye level and said, “Your Dad works very hard to take care of you and your family. He worked hard to buy those shoes on your feet. If you keep dragging them through the gravel, you are going to ruin them. Your Dad won’t complain or be mad at you, but he will have to work harder and longer to buy a new pair. Let’s help him out by not ruining them.” He smiled and hugged me, then we began walking again. I have never forgotten the lesson.

Now that I am a grandfather, I understand. I didn’t realize how my grandfather felt about me then, but now, I know. Pop loved me with a love I still feel today and I miss him more now, forty-four years after his death than ever before. I want him to know, that I now understand how much he loved me and that I still think of him today. I wish I could introduce him to Arlene and our children, and of course my grandsons.

While writing this, I’m trying to figure out how many times in my life I actually saw Pop. The number I came up with is less than thirty. It does not seem possible to me, but I know it is true. I keep trying to make it more. I want it to be more, but it is not. Each visit was usually a week but sometimes a weekend. Not enough time. I wish as a child I would have known … could have known … how to cherish each and every moment with my grandparents. I now know they cherished every minute with me.

Pop died early in 1968 of “black lung disease,” a form of emphysema that is common among those who go deep into the ground to mine the coal. Pop was seventy-seven. I was thirteen. At his wake, I stood by his casket for hours, not showing any emotion. It was the first time I ever saw him without bib overalls. He was wearing a suit. I didn’t feel sad because it didn’t seem like him. But as the funeral home was closing in the evening, my dad walked up and put his arm around me and said it was time to go. I suddenly began crying almost uncontrollably. I think it just hit me that it was my Pop laying there and he was gone. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Fortunately Arlene and I live only fifty miles from Caleb and Noah. We see them weekly, but even then, it’s not enough. I want Caleb and Noah to know how much I love them but I know they cannot. Not until they experience their grandchildren someday. Then, maybe they will think of me and remember how I looked at them … how I held them … and the lessons I will try to teach them. I pray they are both blessed with children and grandchildren someday. Then, they will know how much I loved them and they will remember and smile.

Caleb and Noah’s Pappa,

Gary

I would not have been considered as part of the ‘target market’ for Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Steve Jobs. I knew very little about Jobs. I am at best a point and click MicroSoft computer user and really only have a vague idea of what an operating system is.

I began reading this book because over the last 4 years, I have been told I look like Steve Jobs, maybe a hundred times. I was actually pulled out of line by the TSA last year at Seattle-Tacoma Airport and brought through a special line. I thought I was going to be searched but as I was walking through, the TSA agent said, “I am praying for you, Mr. Jobs.” I laughed and told him I appreciate the prayers but I was not Mr. Jobs. He then asked to see my license. He didn’t believe me.

I have worn black turtlenecks for years. I didn’t know Jobs wore them. I hate to shave, so usually have a face full of stubble. I only pull out a razor when I am speaking (I am an author and professional speaker) or have a “suit and tie” business meeting. I began wearing glasses full-time in 2008 and the mistaken identity began almost immediately. My only other connection to the man is that I love my iPhone.

The publicity surrounding his death increased the “do you know who you look like?” questions by ten times. During a recent walk through Midway Airport in Chicago, the young lady at the ticket counter said, “I know everyone must tell you that you look like Steve jobs, right?” As I walked to security, the TSA agent looked at me and asked if I was a celebrity impersonator. I said “No, but I do get mistaken for John Wayne often.” Then, as I loaded into the Southwest flight, one of the flight attendants was looking at me and walked up with her copy of the book and held it up to my face and asked, “Are you trying to look like him?” I assured her I was not. I then told her that I bet Steve was often mistaken for me. She looked at me and responded, “Nah.”

So when I landed in Dallas, I downloaded this book on my new Kindle and the unexpected happened – I was mesmerized. People will say in reviews, as a standard line, “I could not put this book down.” We all know they certainly were able to put it down … but never in my life have I been so captivated by a book.

Walter Isaacson has performed an incredible service in his skillfully writtten examination of a life. It is structured perfectly, flows beautifully and is a brutally honest look at a brilliant man who will become a colorful part of our cultural history. Through most of this story, I did not like Steve Jobs but tolerated his arrogance and rudeness as part of what makes this story great. Then came the point in the book where I realized it is not arrogance if it is true and I believe Steve Jobs to be a genius.

I feel sorry for those who loved and respected him but suffered his wrath and continued to do so because of their loyalty to him and the “Apple Idea.” I despise him for the rejection and denial of his first daughter and know she will suffer for the rest of her life because of both his actions and inactions. I feel sorry for him because of the joy his daughter could have brought to his earlier life, that he chose to miss. Yes, he tried to make up for it later, but I think those are the kinds of losses that can never be regained.

As the book progressed, I still did not like him, but the tremendous respect I felt for his accomplishments and intellect blossomed. Steve Jobs is the most interesting human being I have ever encountered, even though my only introductions are through this book … and being occasionally misidentified as him. However, Walter Isaacson’s skillful masterpiece is more than enough. Through Isaacson’s insightful eyes and his carefully chosen and crafted words, I feel I have personally met a man that will be remembered as an American icon and revered for generations to come. Through this book, I witnessed a combination of his genius and severe personality defects in a way that displayed, what I believe is, a complete picture of Steve Jobs.

When I began reading this book, the LAST thing I ever expected to say was this …

“This is the best book I have ever read. Period.”

Go figure … I would have never guessed.

Gary

Only eleven months until Christmas! Can you believe it?

Being an author is fun and exciting, but it takes as much discipline as I can muster to stay on schedule and get things done. I am an extrovert and writing is something you do alone in your head, so I am not able to sit for six hours or more and write. If I did, I’d lose my mind. So instead, I will write several times a day for an hour or two at a time. I’ve been writing a bit this morning and decided to take a break and chat with you!

The beginning is writing the book, but the work of trying to sell it goes on and on and on. So in that spirit, I am excited to share with you that from now through February 5, Hey Buddy is on sale for Kindle at only $1.99! This is a one-time promotion and a real bargain, so act now, and please … tell others!

“Hey Buddy: In Pursuit of Buddy Holly, My New Buddy John and My Lost Decade of Music” was a labor of love. The reviews have been positive and the book continues to do well. The Chicago Suntimes says “Hey Buddy is Crazy Good!” I hope you will agree.

As some of you know, we rushed Hey Buddy to the printer in order to meet a release deadline. As such, there were far more typos than I think acceptable. I am delighted to tell you the corrections were made and when you purchase for Kindle, the book is corrected! Forgiv us for our rush to get it out. I learned a valuable lesson.

If you have read and enjoyed “Hey Buddy” and/or “Playing with the Enemy,” may I ask a favor? Reader reviews are important and have a big impact on the success of a book. I would be so very grateful if you would take the time to write and post a review of one or both books and post it on Amazon.com at the Hey Buddy and Playing with the Enemy pages. These reviews really make a difference and I would be so very grateful. Then if you are really ambitious, also post the review at bn.com (Barnes & Noble) and booksamillion.com. Amazon is the big one, so please begin there. Thank you for consideration of my request! I’ll be watching for your review!

Do you Twitter? If so, follow me at “GaryWMoore721” and I will follow you back!

I met my second grandson this week! Noah Moore Leach was born Monday and he, like his big brother Caleb, is perfect! I feel so very blessed. Isn’t God amazing?

Warmest Regards,

Gary

A hero lived among us in Kankakee County, Illinois. Most of our residents were unaware, but how could they be? He did not brag about his exploits or flaunt his medals. He didn’t write a book or go on a tour to talk about himself, although his life and experiences are the kind of material that makes bestsellers. Like so many members of “The Greatest Generation,” he lived a quiet, unassuming life. After saving the free world, he returned home, went to work, raised a family and didn’t talk about it. The word hero is tossed around in so many ways and applied to so many people that it often losses its meaning. But when someone referred to John Neville as a hero, it is applied with the highest honor and the greatest purpose.

John Neville, of Bradley, Illinois, passed away this week. I personally know of no other person more deserving of the title, hero. John was the genuine article. He was the real deal … a World War II B-29 Flying Fortress Pilot. John and his crew flew 30 dangerous missions in the South Pacific. Their last mission was over Tokyo, where, while returning back to base, they were shot down. Badly damaged from antiaircraft fire, and while being pursued by Japanese fighters, John miraculously crash landed his plane, saving his entire crew.

John Neville and his crew of “The Lucky Irish” were lauded as “The Memphis Belle” of the Pacific. While returning to the USA, piloting a damaged aircraft, John again was forced to crash land his aircraft, this time killing all the crew members but three.

For his heroic acts during WWII, John was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. So yes, John Neville was a legitimate war hero. But that is only the beginning of what made John a great man.

John returned home to Annabelle, the girl he left behind. They were married and remained together for sixty-seven years. John spent his after-the-war career employed with Mobil Oil Company and he never flew again. John and his beautiful bride raised three outstanding children and enjoyed six grand children and five great grand children. John and Annabelle’s marriage and love for each other produced a wonderful family to carry on. Annabelle died last year.

Arlene and I know one of John and Annabelle’s children. Pat Neville Chaplinski and her husband Randy are two of our dearest friends. Pat is a teacher. A great teacher and mentor to her students. She is dedicated and passionate. She loves her students and truly cares about them. For her, teaching is a passion and a mission, not a job. But should we be surprised? She was raised by our hero, John and his wife Annabelle, to be so. The strong and positive example of great and loving parents lives on through their children. Even though John left us this week, the character of the man survives and thrives through his daughter, Pat, as I am certain it does through his other two children, grand children and great grand children. We owe John Neville a debt for his service to our nation during WWII that we can never repay, but we equally owe John and Annabelle for the lives they led after the war and the family they raised.

We attended John’s wake today. I met Pat’s other siblings, Karen and John. Like Pat, they are wonderful people. I do not know much about them but I would bet, like John and Annabelle, they are outstanding parents and pillars of their communities. They are John and Annabelle’s living legacies. I said to Pat today that her dad was a hero. Pat responded, “Yes he was, but he was a hero to me because he was my dad.”

Why am I telling you about this? I think everyone should know about John Neville. If you do not, you cannot be grateful for his sacrifice and service to our country. We owe him our gratitude. For those who are so inclined, I hope you will say a prayer, thanking God for John’s life and his service and asking Him to bless John’s family. Arlene and I feel so very blessed to know Pat and we are grateful to her father for helping make her into the amazing woman she is. Thank you, John, for Pat. We love her.

May God bless the memory of John and Annabelle Neville. I pray that God gives us, who are left behind, the ability and courage to live up to the high standard John and Annabelle set. They will be missed, but also deeply and profoundly appreciated by generations to come.

Gary

Happy New Year!

There is nothing like the beginning of a brand new year to refresh our optimism and hope. For centuries, people have set goals and made resolutions for the coming year. The prospects for a happy and successful future are always highest on January 1.

Then what happens?

January 2 arrives with the realization that this new year will be just like the old year unless you personally do something to make it different.

Yesterday, in my blog, I talked about success and said I would post more today. First of all, allow me to share with you that I do not have all the answers. When it comes to success, I do not believe there are experts. So please, take what I say as opinion and the thoughts of a guy who has enjoyed a few big successes in life and a few failures. I do, however, believe there are a few tried and true principles that are part of every success system and I would like to take a few moments to share them.

1. DREAM IT!
Success begins with a vision. No, not necessarily a profound mystical moment that comes over you as a prophecy … but in order to achieve anything, you first must be able to visualize what it is you want to achieve. Want to write a book? Want to build a business? Want to run for public office? Want to ______? Regardless of what your dream is, you first must be able to visualize it … see it. If you aim at nothing, you are sure to hit it, so you must see the dream … your goal and target … vividly in your mind. Once you see it, you can create the path, the diagram or road map to achieve it. I mean really … how can you become successful at something you cannot visualize? Visualize what you want … then go get it!

Before I typed the first word of “Playing with the Enemy,” I had dreamed about and thought about it in such vivid detail that writing it was just a matter of talking what I visualized in my head and put it to paper. You must see it to achieve it.

There is an old American Indian belief that, “God painted the picture of the perfect dam inside the beavers head. The beaver, then spends the rest of his life trying to build it.”

What is it that is painted inside your head?

2. PLAN IT!
The average person spends more time planning their family vacation than they spend planning their success in life. We know when vacation begins and when it ends. We know where we are going and how we will get there. We know how much money we have to spend and we visualize in great detail the enjoyment we will have.

Do the same for your success plan!

If you have a picture of your success painted in your head, put it on paper. Describe it in vivid detail. Create the building plan. When will you begin? What is your time line? How much money do you have to invest? In other words, create the business plan. Success does not happen by accident, it is caused. Cause your success with a detailed plan of action. As the old saying goes, “Failing to plan is a plan to fail.

3. EXECUTE IT!
Do it. Like baking a cake, assemble the ingredients according to the recipe and make it happen. For example … want to write a book? Take your outline (your success plan) and diligently put it together. Have a timeline that details when you begin, when you finish and all the steps in the middle. Take your plan and achieve your dream, day by day, step by step, according to your plan. Do it. Make it happen. Execute it.

4. BELIEVE IT!
“What the mind can believe, it can achieve.” Do you believe in your dream? Do you believe your plan can take you to your desired success destination? Do you believe that by executing your plan your dreams will come true? If not, don’t waste your time. Our belief systems are powerful success engines. If you do not believe your success is probable and within your grasp, your mind and heart will not generate the incredible passion needed to turn your dream into reality. It is your passion that will drive all the above and without it, the energy to achieve your success will not be there.

I have never met a person who was surprised by their success. Successful people are not surprised when they hit their goals because the expected it all along! They hit their goals because they dreamed them, planned for achievement, executed their plan and believed with all their heart and mind that success was at the end of the journey.

So, this is what I believe and I hope you find it useful. Success happens because someone dreamed it, planned it, executed it and believed it. The basics are that simple … but succeeding is not easy. You must be willing to sacrifice, work hard and pay the price. You have to accept that there will be set backs and failures, but as long as you keep your dream in the forefront of your mind and keep working to build it, success can be yours. Make it so!

I am far from perfect but I practice what I preach. I have the dream and vision of a novel, inspired by true events, entitled “Carbon Hill.” I have lived it in my head for almost three years. I created an outline and a timeline. I’ve already posted the beginnings of a web page www.carbonhillbook.com. I have a Facebook page for this work in progress. I am in the process of putting it on paper and building the dream I have of this story. Regardless of your dream, you can do the same thing. The basic principle is applicable to almost any dream.

But the universal truth is that it will not happen on its own.

Success never happens, it is caused.

I hope you find this helpful.

Happy New Year!

May 2012 be the year you CAUSE all YOUR DREAMS to COME TRUE!

Gary

Where has the year gone? Actually, where have the last 57 years gone?

Over the last few weeks, I have been feeling some chest pressure and pain in my jaw. Because of my family history, I thought it best to visit my family doctor. He administered an EKG, which he said, “Shows a slight abnormality.” (Abnormal? Slight?) The Doc then sent me to a specialist on Wednesday and a stress test. I surpassed all the expectations for my age, which is good, but also felt a little chest pressure, so he failed me and sent me in for an angiogram. I hate failing anything and actually spent about ten minutes trying to convince the nurse that if she looked at the results, I had in fact passed!

An angiogram is where they cut into an artery in your upper thigh and send a camera through your arteries to your heart to check for blockages. At least that is my understanding of the procedure. My doctor was convinced we would find blockage and he thought it might be major. My dad, as many of you know, died of a massive heart attack at the age of 57 in 1983. I am now 57, so I, too, was now convinced I had major blockage. Nothing positive ever comes from thinking negative, but I was now worried and believing the worst.

I nervously arrived at the hospital, worrying I may suffer a heart attack before I actually had the test. Arlene and my family were all praying for me, which gave me great comfort, but by now, I was convinced I was dying. (See what negative thinking can do?)

As I checked in at 6:30 AM Friday, I signed papers releasing the hospital of any responsibility and giving them permission to either do an angioplasty (a balloon that opens a slightly clogged artery), to put in a stint (to open an even more clogged a artery) or to perform bypass surgery if I was not repairable by the previous two methods. I signed all their forms and was taken to the waiting room where Arlene and I prayed. Arlene’s prayers always give me great comfort … then a nurse came to lead me into the preparation room. The nurses were wonderful, as was the entire staff at Riverside Medical Center in Kankakee.

To make this long story shorter, the wheeled me in and put me to sleep. The next thing I remember is a nurse with her mask on looking down at me and saying, “Do you want to see this?”

“See what?”

“Your heart!”

She directed my gaze over to a large monitor and there it was. She pointed out my heart and said, “It is remarkably strong and healthy for your age (I wondered how old she thought I was?)… and you have no blockage at all, anywhere!”
Coming from a family where a heart attack by the time you are in your mid fifties is the norm, I feel very blessed! Moving into 2012, I have much to be thankful for. And I should know better than thinking negatively about my health or anything else. Arlene and I are looking forward to an amazing 2012!

Speaking of 2012 … what are your plans? I truly believe life is a largely (but not completely) a series of self-professed prophecies turned reality. What we believe and say, our minds go to work to make so. So what are you saying about 2012? Are you predicting success and prosperity or doom and gloom? Are you looking forward to the best years of your life or bracing for the worst that is to come? Are you looking forward to good health and prosperity or are you anticipating the collapse of the economy and your coming old age? Are you waiting to see what happens or actively working to create the year you want it to be?

Imagine, design, predict and pursue the very best! I believe God wants the very best for us. However, in our humanness, we have trouble accepting that we are good enough, smart enough or deserve the best that can be in store for us. We must imagine a successful year then create the road map to the success you imagine and embrace it! I believe that the success and riches others enjoy are within your grasp. But what I think is not important. What you think and believe is everything. If you first believe … it is not only possible but probable when you set your mind on it.

I’ll write more on this tomorrow. I know these are hard concepts for some to believe. It is easier to believe in failure. It is more convenient to believe that success is not in your control but in the hands of others … but it is not true. Let me leave you with this success thought to think about between now and tomorrow.

“Other people will not hold you in a higher regard than you do. If you believe you are destined for success, others will too. If you believe you are a failure, others will join in that belief. To achieve your dreams, you often have to enlist the positive beliefs of others and if those people do not believe in you … because you do not believe in yourself … you will be unable to enlist them in your pursuits of success. Think about it between now and tomorrow.

For now, I wish you nothing but the greatest success and happiness in the coming year! Please be safe tonight and awake tomorrow believing you have entered the first day of the best year of your life! You first have to believe it to make it so. Success does not happen … it is caused. So I am praying that you cause the wild and crazy success you deserve in 2012!

Gary

I hope you enjoyed a very Merry Christmas, or holiday of your belief and choice … and are looking forward to an exciting and prosperous New Year! Yes, the economy is tough, life can be rough, but so much of what happens to us is brought on by our belief system. I believe the best of our lives and that of our nation is in front of us, not behind us. I believe 2012 will be one of the best and most exciting years of my life. I want you to believe and embrace the same for you. Hope and belief are powerful forces. I pray that you harness these forces for your happiness, prosperity and future.

May I ask for your help? As you probably already know from my Facebook posts and tweets, Playing with the Enemy for Kindle is only sale for a very limited time for only 99 cents. We are making this short and limited offer in hopes of introducing this story to a new audience that may not be familiar with the story of Gene Moore. I believe this story has inspirational value and can be so very useful in this economy. Will you help me spread the word? Word of mouth advertising is more powerful than anything else. If you have read and enjoyed “Playing with the Enemy” … and if you believe as I do, that this story inspires others, please help me spread the word of this limited – one time only sale on Kindle. It will also be on sale for Nook and other E-readers at any moment … but it seems they are slower to change their web pages than Amazon. This is the link http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Enemy-Baseball-Prodigy-ebook/dp/B002CQ28SW/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

Also, if you have read “Playing with the Enemy” but have not yet posted a reader review at Amazon or B&N.com … I would be grateful if you would. Again, word of mouth is powerful.

Thank you in advance for your help. I am always hesitant to ask you to do things, but I truly believe at this point in our nation’s history, this story is helpful and useful.

What specifically can you do? If you tweet, tweet about the book and sale. If you Facebook, post the same. If you blog, mention it on your blog … and just like in the “old days” … the old fashioned way … tell others about it face to face using spoken words!

Thank you for your help!

Gary

“Playing with the Enemy” for your Kindle – ONLY 99 cents! – http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Enemy-Baseball-Prodigy-ebook/dp/B002CQ28SW/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

Wow. This is my 56th Christmas but seeing it through the eyes of my 20 month old grandson has brought back all the magic! Caleb is a perfect little boy and next year, Noah, his little brother will be here. He will be roughly 11 months old. God is truly amazing. I feel so incredibly blessed. I’ve been following Caleb all over the house this morning. We’ve been playing drums, looking at the horses and dogs and just hanging out together. Jeff and Tara Beth are truly wonderful parents and in today’s world, Caleb will need them. I think it is harder to raise kids or grow up as a child into an adult today. Too many strange things, temptations, bad influences and dangers. We can do our best as parents and grandparents, but after it is all said and done, we can only pray and place it all in God’s hands.

Toby, our oldest son will not make it home this year, which makes me sad, but he will instead be home in a few weeks. Travis arrives tomorrow morning and Tara Beth and Jeff have been here since Thursday. We’ll miss Toby but this has been amazing holiday season so far.

I will take moment right now and pray for you! I pray that God blesses you with great health, happiness and a joyous Christmas. I am thankful God has placed you in my life.

Merry Christmas!

Gary

He knew baseball. He could hold a conversation with any adult and usually win an argument when discussing America’s game, especially when it involved the Chicago Cubs. Brian loved the Cubs and their shortstop, turned first baseman, Ernie Banks, or as Brian would call him, Ewnie. Brian had trouble pronouncing his “R”s and as such, called me Gawy Moowe.

Adults loved to talk to Brian and the older kids loved to be around him. Wherever Brian was, a robust and mature analysis of baseball was happening and Brian, age eight, was holding court. Brian was almost four years my younger, but when it came to discussing baseball, I looked to Brian as an elder.

Brian was the youngest boy of the Fredericksen clan. He was a year older than his sister Nancy and a year younger than his brother Jeff and quite a bit younger than his older siblings Cindy and Roger. We lived in the same small neighborhood, Hillcrest Subdivision in Kankakee, Illinois. Our parents were all WWII veterans. Both Brian’s dad and my dad, served in the Navy. We were baby boomers, growing up in a neighborhood that was wall-to-wall kids. We ran around Hillcrest through the back yards, giving not a thought to danger, kidnapping, child molesters or serial killers. Hillcrest was our world and we felt safe. I can still remember short and skinny Brian, with his buzzed haircut, no shirt or shoes, running through the yard with a smile that could light up a darkened gymnasium.

We played baseball on a makeshift field directly between my home and Mark Twain Grade School. There was a slight ridge that we called the hump roughly 250 feet from home plate. It was created by years of plowing and was the unofficial marker of where the plowing stopped and school property began. “Over the hump” was a home run and quite a wallop for a twelve year old boy. We all aimed for that spot but rarely hit it.

Brian was small for his age and almost four years our younger, so we did not let him play ball with us. In truth, he didn’t want to. He would instead stand behind the old chicken wire backstop with the bottom of a broken bat in his hands, pretending it was a microphone, giving us play by play analysis of our game. Knowing Brian was watching made us play better. Brian knew baseball.

March 18, 1966 was warmer than normal for an Illinois spring. A bunch of us were playing football between the yards next to Illinois Route 17, which bordered our neighborhood. I was called home early as we were packing the car to leave for Sesser, Illinois, my dad’s hometown. The next day was my dad’s fortieth birthday and he wanted to celebrate with friends.

As we finished packing the family station wagon, a light blue 1964 Chevrolet, we could hear a siren in the distance. A moment or two later, there was another, and then another. A minute or so later, Mrs. MacIntosh, Ron’s mom, a neighbor, came running into our yard and said, “Is Gary here?” I stuck my head out of the back of the wagon and she put her hand over her heart and said, “thank God.” My mom asked her why … and Mrs. MacIntosh responded, “A boy has been hit by a car on the highway. Ron is at home, Gary is here and I am frightened to find out who it is.” A few moments later, Mr. MacIntosh walked into the yard and put his arm around his wife and whispered into her ear that it was Brian Fredericksen that was struck. “No!” she yelled. “Is he okay?” Mr. MacIntosh shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I drove down to the corner but they won’t let anyone near.”

We waited about an hour but heard nothing more. We left for our five hour drive to Sesser not knowing. As we drove we were tuned into WKAN AM radio, 1320, where we heard the news.

“An eight-year-old boy was struck by a car this afternoon on Illinois Route 17 and Hillcrest Subdivision. The name of the child is being withheld pending notification of relatives, but he was pronnounced dead upon arrival at the hospital.”

Last night, Arlene and I were at a Christmas party and ran into Nancy Fredericksen, Brian’s sister. I am guessing it is the first time I’ve seen Nancy in thirty years. Time has been good to her. She looked fantastic. I met her son and husband. Nancy and I spoke of the neighborhood and old-times and then I mentioned Brian. She smiled as we reminisced about Brian and his baseball knowledge and love of the Chicago Cubs. I shared with her that I tried to find Brian’s grave years ago but was unsuccessful. “It’s in the section with the big cross,” she said.

I was called away by another friend and did not talk to Nancy again, but for the rest of the night and into this morning, all I could think about was Brian.

It is 2011, so I “Googled” Brian’s name and found nothing, which I found surprising. You can usually find anyone or anything on the web. I became a little emotional when Arlene asked me what was on my mind. She listened to me for an hour as a reminisced about Brian, the neighborhood and the day he died. I did not expect to spend my Saturday mourning the loss of a friend, over forty years after his death.

Arlene sent me to the store with a grocery list and while at Jewel, I happened across a blue Christmas ornament with the Cubs logo. Again, I thought of Brian, so I bought two. After paying for the groceries, I turned the car towards Memorial Gardens Cemetery to see if I could find him.

I entered the cemetery and followed the road to the area surrounding the cross that Nancy described. I got out of the car with one of the ornaments in hand and began walking the rows of flat markers, searching for my childhood friend, with not much luck. I was alone, so after about thirty to forty minutes, I began talking aloud to Brian. As I walked, I spoke of the Cubs new management and ownership. I told him I didn’t think it would make much difference, as the Cubs … well … they’re the Cubs. It occurred to me that the team Brian loved suffered one of the worst collapses in baseball history at the end of the 1969 season and realized that maybe he did not know, so told Brian about the famous 1969 Cubs. I shared with him that Old #10, Ron Santo was finally in the Hall-of-Fame, but then I had the overwhelming feeling that Brian was laughing at me. He already knew all of this and in fact got to meet Ron Santo, following his recent death. I stopped and laughed aloud thinking about what was going on in my head. I looked down at the gound and was surprised to see him. I paused for a moment and said …

“Hi Brian.”

I was standing next to is leaf-covered resting place. I reached down and cleaned off his marker so it was clearly exposed.

I talked with Brian for a while, then pulled out the Christmas ornament. I attached it to the small chain that was attached to the flower vase on his head stone. I continued talking. I told him of my wife and kids and my new grandson Caleb. I told him of the grandson we are expecting soon named Noah. I told him that I ran into his sister Nancy and that she still looks a lot like him. I rambled on and on. After a while, I was running out of small talk and so decided to head for home, but not without telling him how much I missed him and that I think of him often. I told him I bought a matching Cubs ornament for my tree and I would always think of him when I see it. Finally, I promised to stop by more often and talk baseball with him. I snapped a picture of his head stone, then walked away.

Why am I telling you about Brian Fredericksen? I guess for two reasons. First of all, I have found this day personally therapeutic. But more importantly, when I Googled Brian’s name earlier, I found no mention of my friend at all, anywhere. We cannot allow that truth to stand. By posting this on my blog, Brian will now be part of the world-wide-web and if he is ever Googled again, Brian will be there.

For the record (and for Google), my friend is Brian D. Fredericksen of Kankakee, Illinois. Brian was born October 17, 1957 and died tragically, too young, after being struck by a car, while Brian was chasing a ball onto the highway, March 18, 1966. He was only eight years old. Brian is still loved and remembered by his family and many friends. He was truly a wonderful young man. Please … never forget, Brian Fredericksen.

When I push this button, this blog will be posted, so get ready … Welcome to the Internet, Brian!

I miss you.

Your friend,

Gary

Long time no blog. I know. I am always told I should blog more and I always promise I will. I will! Lots of great things going on and I just wanted to take a moment, connect and share a few things with you.

I have recently been interviewed for The Discovery Investigation Channel’s program “The Will” and for Travel Channel. Both will air sometime in the spring. As soon as I have an air date, I will let you know.

The Will is an episode about the Ritchie Valens estate. I provided the expert testimony regarding the plane crash that took the lives of Ritchie, Big Bopper, Buddy Holly and pilot Roger Peterson. It was a pretty intense interview.

The Travel Channel interview was less intense and more fun. It is a segment about Buddy Holly’s sunglasses, which are at a museum in Roscoe IL. During the episode, I actually got to try the glasses on and look through the same lenses as the late-great Buddy Holly. If I can figure out how to do it, I’ll include the pic I have of me wearing the glasses. If not, you can see it on my Facebook page. It was truly a remarkable moment.

I’m working hard on my next book, Carbon Hill and am delighted how it is shaping up so far. For those of you who are fans of Playing with the Enemy, you are going to love Carbon Hill. We have a website under construction for Carbon Hill at www.carbonhillbook.com. Please take a look.

Are you on Facebook? Are we Facebook friends? Unfortunately, Facebook has a limit to the number of friends you can have on your page and I seem to be there. I don’t think 5,000 friends are too many but apparently Facebook does. So please join me at my new Facebook page! Please go to https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Gary-W-Moore-AuthorSpeaker/185720031518799 and click “Like” and we can keep each other up-to-date on what is going on in our lives. Isn’t Facebook wonderful? And while you are at it, I also have Facebook Fan Pages for Playing with the Enemy, Hey Buddy and Carbon Hill. So please feel free to click “Like” on them also.

Do you “Tweet?” I always follow back so please follow me on Twitter. You can find me at “GaryWMoore721”. Follow me and I’ll follow you.

Are you finished Christmas shopping? I am not. I need to find one more thing for Arlene but have no idea what to buy. Pass any thought or ideas my way … quickly!

Don’t forget … signed copies of Playing with the Enemy and Hey Buddy make GREAT Christmas gifts. Have a Nook or Kindle? Both Hey Buddy and Playing with the Enemy are available for these and all E-Readers. (psssst … there is going to be an amazing sale on these titles for Kindle beginning soon, so check Amazon.com or BN.com beginning around the 23rd … you will not be sorry!)

Warmest Regards,

Gary