Stories About Lynn — As Told by His Mother

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GUEST WRITER: Lois McKinney

As happens with many married couples, our plan to be independent for several years before starting a family was cancelled when our son Lynn came along. He was the first grandchild for both of our sets of parents. They were all overjoyed, of course, my father especially, as he had two daughters and was happy to have a boy at last. My parents owned a lot at the bottom of Angeles Crest Highway. My dad loved to take Lynn there to throw stones, which they called “shootin’ b’ars.” My father and Lynn loved the times they spent together. There was a radio jingle at the time about Bulldog Lager Beer, which my mother sang to Lynn, so he dubbed her “Grandma Bulldog.” Sadly, my parents both died young – Mother, when Lynn was six; and Daddy, when Lynn was eleven. His other grandparents lived to see Lynn become an adult.

Lynn was four years old when I was expecting Michelle. He was so excited to know that he was going to have a baby sister. Of course, in those days we had no way of knowing if we were expecting a boy or a girl. When he would talk about the new baby sister he was going to have and I’d explain that it could be a boy, he’d say, “No, I’m gonna have a baby sister.” And he’d tell me that he was going to pick up little things off the floor so his baby sister wouldn’t put them in her mouth, and he was going to get diapers for me when I needed to change his baby sister. I have no idea where Lynn got his information about the needs of a new baby, but he was spot on. And he made good on his promises after his baby sister was born.

Lynn was very impatient for the new baby to arrive. I made the mistake of telling him that the baby would be born after Easter – so starting the day after Easter, there would be daily inquisitions from Lynn. People warned me that he was probably looking forward to a child he could play with and would be disappointed with a tiny baby. Not true. When he got his first look at Michelle, Lynn said “She’s just the kind I wanted.”

When Lynn was in middle school, he was the victim of a trouble-maker, who told him that Robbie wanted to fight him, while telling Robbie that Lynn wanted to fight him. Lynn later told me that he’d had no intention of fighting, but being very fond of his Pendleton jacket, when Robbie grabbed him by the collar, Lynn saw red and the battle ensued. Lynn punched Robbie in the mouth and seriously cut his knuckles, requiring a trip to the emergency room. When he was moaning in pain, I asked if he’d learned his lesson. He said he had. “And what is that lesson?” “When you’re gonna punch someone, don’t punch him in the teeth.”

When I was studying to become a teacher, Lynn asked what grade I planned to teach. When I told him I wasn’t sure, he said, “Whatever you do – don’t teach fifth grade. Fifth graders are monsters!” I said, “Lynn, you were a fifth grader last year,” and his response was “Yeah, and remember what a monster I was.”

The first time we went to Lake Havasu, Lynn was five. We had been told about the place by our next-door neighbors, so, with our new boat in tow, we headed there, along with our neighbors. That was our introduction to this beautiful lake, a setting where we would eventually have a summer home. We knew nothing about water skiing, but had the boat and newly-purchased skis, so we set out to learn. After my husband and I had learned the basics, we taught Lynn, who actually began skiing at the age of five. Years later, when his sister Michelle was learning, she was six. It was our last day of Spring Break vacation, and Michelle’s birthday was coming up. Lynn teased Michelle, saying, “This is your last chance to learn to ski while you’re six. I learned when I was five.” That was all the encouragement she needed. Her brother had thrown down the gauntlet, and she was ready for the challenge. I had faith in Michelle’s abilities, so Lynn and I made a bet about whether Michelle could stand up and ski around in a complete circle. If Lynn won the bet, he’d be excused from helping to wash and dry the dishes for a week, and Michelle and I would do the dishes; but if he lost the bet, he would do the dishes alone. What a scene it was! As her dad drove the boat slowly, Michelle gradually came out of the water, and she stayed up! Then, as the boat began a large circle, Lynn was jumping up and down, yelling “Fall, fall, fall!” She made it all the way around. At this point, Lynn analyzed the bet and asked “How come Michelle wouldn’t have had to do dishes alone if she lost?” Although the point was moot, I responded, “Because Michelle wasn’t betting – she was just the instrument of the bet.” Michelle was delighted that she had learned to ski. As soon as she landed from her first skiing victory, she said, “That was fun! I want to go again!” He wasn’t happy about it, but Lynn did the dishes for a week, alone except when I took pity and gave him a little help.

Speaking of water skiing, we taught many young girls to ski, when Michelle’s Girl Scout troop made annual visits to our vacation home. Ann, the leader of the troop, loved that Michelle had an older brother to keep the girls entertained. In fact, Ann invited Lynn to accompany Michelle’s troop when they took a five-day trip on a 50-foot rigger sailboat, the Swift of Ipswich, around the Channel Islands. Ann really wanted Lynn to be included on the trip, so she asked him to be the lifeguard. Lynn eagerly took the lifesaving course in order to go on this exciting excursion. They all had a great time – acting as crew members, swinging out over the ocean in the boatswain’s chair, watching the dolphins and flying fish, and swimming in the beautiful blue waters – so they did it all again two years later.

While at Lake Havasu, we loved to go by boat to have dinner at the all-you-can-eat buffet at the Nautical Inn across the lake. Once when Lynn was a teen with a voracious appetite, he went back to the buffet time after time to refill his plate. I became embarrassed and suggested that the next trip to the buffet should be his last. His response was: “I don’t get it. It’s called all-you-can-eat but you won’t let me eat all I can eat.” Incidentally, when Lynn made his seventh trip to the buffet, a guy at the next table gave a handful of money to his dinner companion. Apparently, they were betting on the number of trips my ravenous son would make.

Bill and Yvonne were our best friends, so the families did many things together. Once when we were vacationing at Lake Havasu, Evan, Bill and a friend named Jim came back from fishing with the largest bass we’d ever seen caught at this lake. When asked who caught this prize-winning fish, each man claimed that he was the champion fisherman. The entire time at Havasu, Bill’s son Steve and Lynn both tried to learn the truth, to no avail. Then on the way home in our individual cars, I asked Evan to please ease his son’s mind by telling the truth, so he told us that he was the one who caught the gigantic fish. When we stopped for dinner, Steve and Lynn ran to each other and shouted together as with one voice: “I know who caught the fish – my Dad!”

Another time we were in the car with Lynn and Steve in the back seat. Suddenly, Lynn said, “Steve, know what?” When Steve asked “What?” Lynn said “Watermelon.” A little later Lynn said “Steve, know what?” Steve replied “What?” and Lynn said “Watermelon.” Again, a little later, “Steve, know what?” Steve said, “Yeah, I know what – watermelon.” Lynn said “No, cantaloupe.”

When the “Woodstock” movie came out, Lynn longed to take me to see it and told me he was going to do just that as my Mothers’ Day gift. I had no desire to see it, telling him that I could bang my head against a brick wall and get the same result. However, he felt so strongly about it that I agreed to go. During the movie, I asked all sorts of naïve questions. The music was extremely loud, but listening to it with my son made it actually enjoyable. After leaving the movie, Lynn took me to his favorite eatery, Tommie’s, for a Tommie Burger and a soft drink. After we got our burgers with the obligatory thick-sliced tomato and oozing with their signature chili, Lynn went over to an old-fashioned drink refrigerator, lifted the lid and pulled out two sodas. I’m not sure he was being entirely truthful when he told me that customers were supposed to help themselves to the drinks. Although I had to be dragged on this date with my son, it’s one of my fondest memories.

Lynn had another friend named Steve, who lived directly behind us. Lynn and Steve decided they needed a clubhouse, but not on the ground or in a tree. No, this clubhouse was to be underground. The two boys selected a spot right on the border between their two homes, where they started digging. They dug a big hole and then branched off into a below-ground room. Even while they were still digging, making their underground quarters larger and larger, they actually brought accoutrements into the room and spent many hours in it. Then, as is bound to happen in youthful endeavors, the day came when they found other things to occupy their time, and the underground clubhouse became just a memory. I recently spoke with one of Lynn’s cousins, who remembered how privileged she felt when Lynn invited her to see this special room.

When Lynn was in his teens, a teacher introduced him to the Edmund Scientific catalogue, where he found wonderful treasures. He ordered a number of gifts for me and for his sister, and his choices were excellent. The first gift he bought from this company was a glass prism, which he thought would be a nice addition to the science table in my kindergarten classroom – and he was right. Today I keep it on a windowsill. Another gift that I adore is a set of jewelry, a disk-shaped pendant on a chain with matching earrings. The story that goes with it is that in an underground chamber to avoid outside movement, grooves were etched into the material that makes up the pendant, similar to grooves on a phonograph record, resulting in jewelry that picks up rainbows of light. Lynn gave me the pendant and earrings and he gave his sister a kitty pin, all made in this manner, and we still have this special jewelry.

Lynn was 18 when my daughter, Jeannette, was born. My labor began at a small party at a friend’s home, so we went to the hospital from there. When Lynn got home that night, he had no idea where we were. After he found out, he dashed to the hospital. He ended up in the wrong waiting room, where he waited all night long, worrying about his Mom.

On one occasion when Jeannette was a baby, I was going to be gone for the afternoon and he was home, so I asked if he’d babysit his sister. He said, “O.K. but I won’t change any poopy diapers.” When I returned home, I was greeted by baby clothes strewn across the floor, a poopy diaper in the toilet, and Lynn in a rocking chair with Jeannette lying across his chest, both sound asleep. Jeannette was dressed in little-boy overalls and shirt that Lynn had found buried in her drawer. The two of them looked so adorable that I later regretted not memorializing the scene with a photo.

When I was pregnant with my last baby, Lynn was 20. When he and I were out and about together, he’d put his arm around me and call me “Honey.” I said, “Please don’t do that, Lynn. People will say ‘That’s disgraceful! Why, she’s almost old enough to be his mother’.” When I went to the hospital to have my last baby, Lynn was asked if he was hoping for a boy or girl. He said he was just praying that his Mom would be okay.

Scott, my doctor in California and a former neighborhood kid, reminisced to me about a time when he and Lynn were much younger and were playing a game of basketball. Lynn usually won, but on this particular day, Scott won the game. He said he was going home but Lynn, not wanting to end the session as the loser, insisted that they needed to play another game. Scott started running home and Lynn ran after him, all the time protesting that they should play one more game. Scott says that when they got to his house, his mother gave Lynn some food so that shut him up.

Lynn's father, who coached baseball and was a CIF official, began teaching him to pitch as soon as he could throw a baseball.  Lynn knew he wanted to play college baseball, but when he graduated from high school, he felt he lacked size, having just started his big growth spurt during his senior year, so he decided to take a year off before beginning college.  Lynn had planned to go into the Coast Guard when he graduated. In his yearbook, many of his friends made comments about his going into the Coast Guard. Then one day, he was driving his little Honda motorcycle on a neighborhood street, when a car in front of him slowed down.  Lynn decided that this was an opportunity for him to pass on the right, not knowing that the driver was turning into a driveway.  As a result, Lynn broke his leg. When he reported to the Coast Guard wearing a cast, they just laughed, so that was the end of that.

Lynn hadn’t decided how he would spend his year off before college, when I agreed to be the Girl Scout Neighborhood Cookie Chairman. A Bekins truck backed into our driveway and dropped off hundreds of boxes of cookies. Lynn talked to the Bekins driver, who suggested that Lynn become a swamper (driver’s helper). He applied and was hired. The procedure was that he’d call each morning and listen to a recorded message stating which guys should show up for work. He shared this information with his friend, Steve, who also signed up. Lynn decided that this had been a mistake, because he’d sometimes call in and hear Steve’s name and not his own.

Lynn enrolled at Rio Hondo College, where he became a very accomplished pitcher, being named “Most Valuable Player.” After Lynn’s first year, recruiters of a major league team (either the Kansas City Royals or the Oakland Athletics – we can’t remember which) came by the house, wanting to sign him. Lynn, his father, and I believed that he needed another year of college ball to reach his full potential, so he turned down this opportunity. That turned out to be a poor decision because his college coach, being more concerned about winning than taking good care of his players, over-used Lynn and wore out his arm. It’s my belief that if he had signed then, he would have been a valuable commodity and the team’s medical staff would have monitored him, keeping his arm in shape.

Lynn and Chris went to Las Vegas to get married, just as his father and I had done 21 years earlier. After Lynn had back surgery, he and Chris moved to Santa Barbara, where they attended UCSB. Lynn was probably the first athlete to receive a full scholarship to this school. After playing two seasons at UCSB, Lynn and a friend drove to San Jose, where he tried out for the Kansas City Royals and was signed for a much smaller bonus than he would have gotten had he taken the previous offer. He also received a scholarship for the off seasons, which he never used because he always played ball during his off seasons. Lynn played minor league ball in many places, including Billings, Sarasota, Waterloo, San Jose, Omaha, Jacksonville, and Honolulu. From 1976, he was a AAA player. He also played ball in Puerto Rico during their major league season. Unfortunately, he injured his back and that was the end of his baseball career. Even though I regretted that he didn’t sign with a major league team during his really hot streak, I know he enjoyed playing minor league ball and he had quite a following of fans. Upon leaving baseball, he finished college at UCSB, and then moved to Spokane, where he studied law at Gonzaga (and became a big Zags basketball fan).

Lynn became a Public Defender in Spokane, where he had a landmark case, causing a change in the law regarding the statute of limitations in cases of domestic violence.  An article and photograph about this law change appeared in the Spokane newspaper.

Lynn and Chris had two children, Laura and Matt.  They had a good married life, but eventually decided to go their separate ways, a choice that Lynn later said had been a mistake.  They remained friends, and Chris is still a loving part of our family.  Lynn married Patty, an artistic, full-of-fun, lovely woman.  They had a nice life together, until cancer struck Lynn.  When the cancer progressed, Patty and Lynn's daughter Laura became his caregivers.  When his sisters and I would tell him we planned to fly to Spokane to visit, he'd ask us not to.  We went anyway, and he always said he was glad we came.  There's something about being with nurse Michelle that gives a person a sense of tranquility. 

When he was 63, my son Lynn, conglomeration of humor, inquisitiveness, spontaneity, empathy, and determination, died before his time, but my wonderful memories of him live on.

I wrote a poem about our son, Lynn.

Just the Kind I Wanted

When our boy Lynn was four years old,
His Dad and I said, “Son,
We know that you love babies
And we’re going to soon have one.”

Lynn’s baby sis came on the scene
After a little while.
Lynn took one look at her and said
With the biggest, happiest smile,

“She’s just the kind I wanted,”
As he patted her little head.
“She’s just the kind I wanted.”
That’s exactly what he said.

Lynn grew up to be successful;
He played ball and practiced law.
His physical appearance was
Almost without a flaw.

Then cancer ravaged his body,
With odds he couldn’t defy.
His family’s hearts were broken
As Lynn said his last good-bye.

The Lord looked down and all around,
And said “I need someone
To talk sports and play ball with me
When my busy day is done.”

“I need someone to make me laugh
And give me inspiration.
I need someone to steer the boat
When I go on vacation.”

Lynn said “I’m here for you, Lord, but
The Big C did me in.”
The Lord said “Here with me
You’re absolutely perfect, Lynn.”

That’s how they got together
And became the best of friends.
Before too long, Lynn even learned
The way to make amends.

Lynn’s hearing what the Lord says
And his heart is filled with joy.
He tells about his memories
Of when he was a boy.

The Lord politely listens as
Lynn has a lot to say,
And, of course, the two of them find time
To play ball every day.

The other day Lynn tossed the ball,
And as the good Lord bunted,
He turned to Lynn and said, “You know,
You’re just the kind I wanted.”