This morning as I was sitting down at my writing table I bought last year in honor of my mother on Mother’s Day, I gazed at the assortment of old photographs inspiring me to commence this new project. I feel as if I’m surrounded by clues, begging me—sometimes taunting me—to weave the pieces of my parent’s past together so that I might better get to know them. As I dig deeper, their young, naïve, determined selves slowly begin to reveal who they were once as a young man and woman. And, once again I am delighted to learn more, frustrated I can’t ask them directly for answers, yet determined to give their love story voice. They have become my friends.

My son Kurt in the background at Autzen Stadium, my grandson Beckett ready for a ball snap!

This journey has opened many doors to me. I have been able to reconnect with my birthplace—Eugene, Oregon—through the generous encouragement of Herb Yamanaka, Associate Athletic Director for the University of Oregon where he’s been on staff for over 65 years! His help has been invaluable. Through his introduction, I have been able to meet Bill Green, the football team manager of the ’49 squad where my Dad started his collegiate football career. I have also had the pleasure of meeting Bob Sanders, the star fullback of that same team. It was a delight to browse through old yearbooks and his scrapbook, whose pages were yellowed with age and worn from many page turnings. I met and visited with Jackie Aiken, the daughter-in-law of the football coach, Jim Aiken and wife of his son, Jim Aiken, Jr., also a member of the team. Coach Aiken’s introduction of the team’s offensive T-formation was pivotal in establishing my dad’s successful career as a Hall of Fame quarterback in the NFL.

And when we journeyed back in time to the late ’40s and I’d ask about my dad, they all had a sparkle in their eyes as they reminisced. It was a special time in history: post WWII, new opportunities for both men and women, and a growing sense of optimism in the future.

I’ve also been able to reconnect with old Oregon family friends via the internet. The bonds formed by these teammates, many of whom served in WWII, were forged on the playing field and remained intact into old age. The Kochs, Stantons, and Karamanos all had fathers who were teammates of my dad, all families whose children I knew as a little girl. I have met some of them in person, and I have had the pleasure of perusing through some of their scrapbooks, which have also helped me recreate a special time in our parents’ and nation’s history.

(L-R) Adam, Mack, Janna, Olivia, Beckett, Charlotte, Kirby with Amelia, Kurt with Josie, Amy with Will

But what I have found most rewarding is being able to share this journey with my children and grandchildren. This past summer, my now dear friend Herb Yamanaka, along with his able assistant, James Batley, took my family on a private guided tour of the U of O Hall of Fame, the indoor practice facility, and Autzen Stadium, the twenty-first century version of Hayward Field. As we marched down the tunnel under the stadium and onto the field, off my grandchildren ran in every direction, the joy of youth so infectious. Had Dad felt this way marching onto Hayward Field some seventy years ago?

And finally, as a family, we walked towards Deady Hall where it all began for my parents on a breezy, spring afternoon on April 2, 1946, seventy-one years ago today. As Dad, known at the time as Stub, wandered the campus in search of his biology class, lo and behold he bumped into Gloria Schiewe walking under the branches of a Big Leaf Maple tree. As she pointed him to his next class, he arrived to discover she was his lab instructor.

Kirby surrounded by her Grands on Stub and Gloria’s bench

After our parents’ passing, it was here under the Maple tree that our family dedicated a bench on their behalf. This spot where he met Gloria was arguably Dad’s most valuable win! The bronze plaque simply states, “It’s here we met, and here we will always be.” Sitting on that bench underneath that giant tree surrounded by my grandchildren, I felt life had brought me full circle.