Semper Fi
For some reason tonight I decided to look at the Mansfield News Journal. I don't do it that often, but tonight I did. While scrolling down looking at the high school sports stories was the obit of a good friend, mentor and role-model – James Cunningham.
Mr. C. and Mickey (Mrs. C) lived down the street on Arthur Ave., back in my hometown of Mansfield, Ohio. I lived at 120 … he lived eight houses down from me at 150. I'm sure over the years we would say hi to each other as I was playing outside with the other kids on the street or riding my bike. Mr. C. was retired from the Ohio State Reformatory.
Most people know it today as Shawshank Prison. I find it quite ironic he ran the laundry that Andy Dufresne spent so much time in.)
At some point though, I'm guessing when I was 5th or 6th grade, Mr. C decided to (maybe at the time unknowingly) take me under his wing. One day while out with his black Labrador "Lady" he asked me and another kid on the street to help put up flags for one of the Patriotic holidays.
The local detachment of the Marine Corps League would put up dozens (if not hundreds) of American flags in front of local business downtown. We needed to be ready at 6 a.m. sharp. We were of course late and he left with out us. So we just walked the 8 or 9 blocks downtown and caught up with the group. That started a tradition that lasted several years. After we were done, he'd take us to breakfast at Mr. T's or Coney Island on the Square.
Mr. C. was a HAM radio operator and I remember the first day he showed me his radio and how he could talk to the world. At that age, that was some pretty cool stuff. Mr. C. also helped me get my first CB radio set up and running. Every morning, I'd check-in on the local CB net with my temperature and what if any new news I had. (Looking back now it was it's own form of social media.) I'm sure working the attic window loose, crawling on the roof and running wires out my bedroom window didn't sit well with mom and dad. I know the whole roof thing had them ticked off at one point. But I was staying out of trouble, and in a neighborhood that was quickly deteriorating – that wasn't a bad thing.
Another adventure Mr. C. took me on growing up was on the week's leading up to Halloween. His CB net worked with the State Police on patrols at highway overpasses watching for kids trying to throw pumpkins off the bridge and onto the interstate. We were only supposed to "call it in" when something happened, but that wasn't enough for an old Marine like Mr. C. He somehow managed to follow or trap those kids at the bridge till the police arrived. Strong he was. I remember the muscles, the arms especially. He always said he could whup most anyone's ass and I believed him.
According to today's obit, it said Jim moved to Shelby in 1990. That would have put me seventh grade. I remember helping Jim take dozens of loads in the back of his pickup truck to the new house on the west side of Shelby. One of the first things he did at that new house was to put a tower up with an antenna for his radios and a new addition – a weather station. Fortunately, my mother had a good friend in Shelby, so while she when to visit her friend, she'd drop me off at Jim's house for several hours.
I don't remember all of the conversation topics, but I remember the themes. The one that stands out the most is: Respect for the Country and the men and women who died for it. One of the tasks of the Marine Corps League is the attend the funerals of fellow Marines. Even back then, I remember him saying he attended a lot of them. Lots of guys from the war were dying he would say. All those early mornings and late evenings of placing flags downtown helped me learn respect for the flag and it's proper display. Every house I've lived in since has displayed an American flag.
He talked a lot about the Marines and how they were better than the other services combined. I learned a lot about what it meant to be a Marine, but I never heard Jim's war story, other than he was injured at Iwo Jima.
He also told me to mind my parents or he'd whup my ass. Again, I believed he would too. Unknowingly those talks probably help keep me on the straight path growing up, through the tumultuous years I'd remember as Jr. High. See there was another kid on the street that Jim did his best to take under his wing as well. He well, probably got me into trouble more times that I'd like to admit. But I bet, without the close eye of Mr. C., I may have ventured down the wrong paths.
There were many other 'life lessons' he taught me. Change your oil every 3,000 miles, the right way to wax a car, the right way to mow a lawn, grow a garden, etc., etc.
As I began high school, I got more involved in other activities at the school which meant less time to see Mr. C. We still talked often, but didn't see each other as often. Once I got a car, I was able to make trips over on my own to see him, but still we saw each other less and less.
As time went on, we sent our annual Christmas cards, I try calling once or twice a year, but after college it got to be more difficult to stop in. There were a few times I would stop by, but as the years went by, Jim and Mickey's health got worse. There were times that Mickey was just too ill for us to visit. Jim did get a computer and on the email, but all he ever did was send forwards and tell me he was going to whup my ass if I didn't send him email back.
Fortunately, the last time I got to see Jim & Mickey was right after Sandy and I moved back to Indiana from Texas. We were in Ohio for a weekend visit and they were both feeling well enough to visit. It was the first time they got to meet Sandy. We had a great visit. We stayed a couple of hours – still wasn't long enough in my book, but we were on our way somewhere and had to get going.
I was a bit surprised when I didn't get a Christmas card from him this past year. I probably should have called, but didn't. I know he had to have seen our card which was of Sandy, David and myself. I hope he had a smile on his face when he saw I was finally a father.
I'll be heading back to Mansfield later this week to pay my respects to one of the many men who risked their lives to keep this country free. Definitely one of the Greatest Generation.
Rest in peace old friend.
Posted: March 28th, 2010 under Just another entry.
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