Ron Santo Will Be Part of Wrigley Field Forever

If you bleed Cubbie Blue, then this story from the Daily Herald tonight will make your heart swell. You may know that the Cubs don't typically allow people to have their ashes spread at Wrigley Field, although Steve Goodman's ashes are in the outfield.

That changes Thursday when Ron Santo's ashes take their rightful place in the stadium Ron so loved. Now when the Cubs finally win the World Series, Ron will be there.

For the record, Ron Santo more than deserves to be in the Hall of Fame and it's my Christmas Wish that the Golden Era Committee makes up for this egregious error.

Santo will forever be part of Cubs, Wrigley
By Barry Rozner, Daily Herald, August 7, 2011

No member of the family would discuss the private aspect of their tribute, but a Cubs source said it would occur Thursday. His son Jeff would say only that he’s looking forward to concluding another chapter in what has been a long and public mourning process.

“I think this is going to be the last hard thing, finally saying goodbye,” Jeff Santo said Sunday. “I didn’t feel like I really said goodbye at the funeral, and I’m going to make sure I do it now.

“Everything that happened last December was so fast. It was a whirlwind and it’s all so hazy when I look back on it. But I think now with the statue and the end of the season coming, the patch on the jerseys almost done, I think this is finally the end of it.

“I’m not looking forward to the emotional part of it, but I’m looking forward to some closure.”

Jeff was then reminded that his late father will face yet another Hall of Fame vote this fall, with the announcement coming within days of the anniversary of Ron Santo’s passing.

“That’s unbelievable,” Jeff Santo said with a laugh. “There you go, so I guess it doesn’t end right there this week. I’ll be on pins and needles again.”

The new Golden Era Committee, comprised of members of the Hall of Fame, executives and veteran media members, will consider managers, umpires, executives and long-retired players whose best years in the game took place from 1947-1972.

The announcement will be made during the winter meetings in Dallas, only a day or two after the anniversary of Ron Santo’s death on Dec. 3.

If there were to be one final irony in the amazing journey that was No. 10’s, it would be that he is elected posthumously after suffering through so many election disappointments the final decade of his life.

But to bet on it now would be foolish when Santo didn’t come close in the past.

“Well,” Jeff Santo chuckled, “at least this time he won’t have to sit by the phone and be disappointed again. That’s one thing we can feel good about.”

It hasn’t been an easy year for Ron’s wife, Vicki, or the kids — Jeff, Ron Jr. and Linda — celebrating Ron’s life in full view and getting little chance to reflect in private.

But such is the process when a man is as beloved as Ron Santo.

“It’s been really tough for Vicki and for Linda because she’s lived next door to him for a long time in Arizona and my dad was always with her and the grandkids,” Jeff said. “He always came back to Arizona in the fall after the season and it’s not going to happen this year, and that’s going to hit hard.

“Linda’s son Sam is throwing out the first pitch Wednesday. He made Little League all-stars this year. My dad would have loved that. Sam’s playing his best baseball now and my dad’s not here for it. He would have loved going to those games.”

Jeff still finds himself wanting to dial his dad’s cellphone, frequently locating the speed dial number before catching himself.

“I did it the other day after watching that Curt Flood special on HBO,” Jeff Santo said. “That was my dad’s era and I wanted to talk to him about it.

“I just want to call him and hear him say, ‘How’s it going, son?’ I miss him a lot. As crazy as it sounds, he was really doing great. He had survived so much. I just didn’t expect that to be the end.”

It was tough on Ron’s birthday in February, and it was tough again when Jeff got his wedding photos, seeing how good his dad looked on 10-10-10.

“Father’s Day I was a wreck,” Jeff said. “I went to a Diamondbacks game and thought that would be perfect. Turns out it wasn’t the best idea. I spent more time at the pub thinking about my dad.”

So the Santo family seeks an emotional resolution, and they should receive that this week when a statue of Ron is placed outside Wrigley Field. An appropriate spot would be at Addison and Sheffield, near teammate and pal Billy Williams.

“The great thing is this will be so cool for the fans. My dad really loved this team and these fans,” Jeff Santo said. “And he would have been truly overwhelmed by getting a statue. It’s forever. He would have considered that as great as the Hall of Fame.”

In a very public ceremony Wednesday, the Cubs will celebrate the life and career of Ron Santo, sharing with his fans the unveiling of a statue and a flood of memories.

And in a very private ceremony the next day, Santo’s family will spread his ashes about Wrigley Field, presumably at third base, and perhaps around home plate — though one can still imagine Santo clicking his heels from third base, down the line and into the left-field corner.

The Most Fun, Sad Road Trip

When Nana died, on July 12th, I was already scheduled to fly to Florida on July 15th. I had been planning for months to spend her birthday (July 18th) with her and then fly to Dallas for the annual Mary Kay Seminar (July 21st - 25th). What I had not counted on, obviously, was that Nana would die 6 days before her birthday. Immediately, it became obvious to Mom, Dave, and me that the best way to celebrate Nana was to have her Celebration of Life Service in Crystal Beach, Florida (where she had lived since 1956) on her birthday and then fly her to Batesville, Mississippi, where she was from and had always planned to be buried.

Services were scheduled in Batesville for Tuesday, July 21st and everything seemed to have fallen into place perfectly. I'd get to Dallas on Wednesday the 22nd, the day I really needed to be there and wouldn't have to miss any of the fun or any of Nana's services. That is until I called American Airlines to add in this one little stop in Memphis (the nearest airport to Batesville).

American informed me that to add a quick 24-36 hours in Batesville via Memphis and then on to Dallas would cost me an ADDITIONAL $1100 PLUS $150 to change my ticket. Ugh. I had bought trip insurance, but it wouldn't come close to covering this.

Quickly, I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't be there to bury Nana. That is until I spoke with my cousin Elesha in Dallas. She had the brilliant idea to change the Dallas leg of my trip and fly in, not on Tuesday, but on Sunday the 19th and she would drive me to Batesville and back all in time for my Mary Kay event. This wasn't some quick Sunday afternoon drive. Batesville is almost 9 hours each way from Dallas. This was HUGE. I argued for a second, but only a second, and then I called American. For only $300, I was able to change my arrival in Dallas and I'd be able to go to Batesville. Wow. (Elesha's grandmother and my Nana are sisters and in addition to attending Nana's service, Elesha also wanted to see her grandmother who's no spring chicken herself.)

I flew into Dallas on Sunday afternoon, and bright and early Monday morning, Elesha and I piled her two kids - ages 7 and 4 - into her car and off we went. Now, I drive to Watervale all the time. But that's only 6 hours max. And I've driven back and forth to DC (12 hours) plenty of times, but it's been almost a decade since I've done that and I never did it with kids. I honestly wasn't sure what to expect.

But her kids were amazing. Sure, they had their moments, but there weren't any meltdowns or major fights. We heard a couple "I gotta go to the bathroom's" and "I'm bored," but all in all, the kids got an A+ for their behavior. I was mighty impressed. That got Elesha and me to talking about road trips when we were kids.

Today's kids have DVD players in the backseat with a library of movies. We had License Plate Bingo. Today's kids have air conditioning they can personalize for their seat to stay cool and comfortable. We hoped our brother didn't fart in our face. Today's kids have roadside oases with every fast food restaurant they can imagine. We had Stuckey's with cardboard "food" if we were getting a treat. Otherwise, we had picnics that consisted of warm, but homemade fried chicken and potato salad made three days earlier. Today's kids have 6-disc CD changers in the car. We had AM Radio. Maybe. Today's kids can count on clean bathrooms. We carried on old coffee can that the whole family used in the car as we were driving down the highway. (I swear I am not making that up). Today's kids have Nintendo DS's that talk to each other. We entertained ourselves by motioning to the truckers to blow their horns. Today's kids have individual car seats. We didn't use seatbelts, slept in the back window or on the floor, and were constantly whining "Mom! He's on my half on the backseat!" Today's kids are well behaved and don't fray their parents' last nerves. We had Mom yelling "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to turn this car around!" and "Don't make me come back there!"

Now, of course, I still counted the number of Waffle Houses (11) and Stuckey's (1) we saw, but some things never change, no matter how old we get and I did it more out of curiosity than anything else. For the record, we didn't stop at either.

Reminiscing made us laugh a lot, which I desperately needed. Even though it was for a sad reason, I had a blast with Elesha and her adorable children. She's a great mom, a great cousin, and an awesome friend. I can't believe I thought for one second I wouldn't go to Nana's burial and I'm eternally grateful that she made it possible for me to attend.

Flying First Class and the Kindness of Strangers

Twelve years ago, my paternal grandmother died (not to be confused with my Nana who is still alive). We didn't have a great relationship, but missing her memorial service wasn't an option. I had to say goodbye and put some closure on our relationship for myself.

When she passed away, I was living in Washington DC and her memorial service was being held in Chicago. Because she was cremated, the service was planned for a Saturday when everyone in the family could be there ten days after her death. This was wonderful because the family was spread all over the country and it meant we could all save a few bucks on airfare.

The ten days between Grandma's death on May 1st and her memorial service on May 11th were very difficult for me at work. We were preparing to file a Summary Judgment brief in a case in the US District Court for the District of Columbia on May 10th and had been working insane hours - 14-16 hour days. I had been working 7 days a week for weeks, but this particular week I spent nights at the firm and didn't sleep at all and ate even less.

By the time we filed the brief late that Friday afternoon, I was a physical and emotional wreck and I still had to drive home, do laundry, pack, eat, get to sleep, and be at the airport in time for my 6:30 flight to Chicago. If everything went smoothly, I'd arrive in Chicago about 8:00, have enough time to have breakfast with my dad, and we'd be at the church in plenty of time for the 10:00 service.

By the grace of God, I arrived at Washington National Airport on time, but it didn't matter. We boarded the plane and about 20 minutes after we were scheduled to depart, our flight was canceled due to mechanical problems. Knowing I had to be on a plane to Chicago, I called United's customer service on my cell phone and they put me on the 8am flight, which was a full flight and scheduled to arrive at O'Hare at 9:30. The only problem was that I couldn't reach my dad to let him know he didn't need to pick me up and he should just go straight to the church. Then I called my uncles and the church and begged them not to start without me. I also managed to reach my mom who said she'd be waiting for me at 9:30 to rush me to the church. The church in Glencoe was exactly 30 minutes from O'Hare.

I got my boarding pass and discovered I was in the last row of the plane. Sitting down in the last row, I took a deep breath and suddenly all the emotions and exhaustion I'd bottled up for two weeks came rushing out as tears running down my face. My sobbing was completely uncontrollable and involuntary. Given the size of the plane, I knew that it would take 30 minutes just to get off and I'd never make it to the memorial service on time.

In spite of my best efforts to conceal my sobs, a few minutes later a flight attendant arrived. She asked what was wrong and although I tried to assure her that I was fine, I did manage to explain my situation. Without a word she left, only to reappear again and asked me to collect my things because someone in first class had offered to give me his or her seat so I would have a chance of getting to the church on time.

Now I'd flown first class a couple of summers before, but nothing will ever compare to this experience in first class. For the first time in weeks, I ate a real meal with real dishes and silverware, as opposed to take-out food with plastic silverware. I slept and woke up in Chicago refreshed and calm, two emotions I barely remembered. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was the best food and best sleep I've ever experienced.

When we arrived at O'Hare, they let me off the plane first and I ran all the way to the arrival pick-up area where I found my mom waiting. She sped all the way to the church, but the service had already started without me.

To this day I don't know who gave up their seat for me and I never had the opportunity to say thank you in person, but I've never forgotten how in one of the lowest moments of my life, a stranger came to my rescue.