Today is Tom's (my father) 77th birthday! As I sit here and reflect on his life and the 76 birthdays he had here on earth, I cannot help but have a heavy heart. I also received word that my high school softball coach passed away this morning, after fighting 12 years of Parkinson's. My dad was always involved in my development as a player and a pitcher. He was my biggest fan and even more, he was my biggest believer. My dad would work with his children on their talents early on and he would push us to always get better. I have many stories to share about the experiences that he and I had in my specific softball journey so I will share a few here. 

3rd grade: THis was the time that I started to fast pitch. My dad would take me in the back yard and catch for me more than I really wanted to. He must have seen the potential in me because there were many times that I just rather stay inside on the couch. He went out and got me private lessons with Jim Firos and anyone else that would be there. He dragged me across the state to softball camps and was always telling me I could be a great pitcher. 

Middle School: My dad actually went and transfered his membership from our local Catholic church to St. Therese in Lansing just so his kids could be a part of the Catholic schools sport program. This is where I was exposed to more kids (than just DeWitt) in softball. I was able to practice and fine tune my pitching skills and not to mention beat St. Gerard. :) 

Travel Ball: My dad coached a DeWitt parks and rec team that consisted of older kids. One tournement in Lansing he had me pitch just a few innings against this one team based out of Holt. He didn't want to seem like he was playing favorites so he pulled me and put in another girl. I was doing well against the older kids and after the game the coach of the other team, Roy Reinert, approached my dad and asked why he didn't leave the first pitcher in. After the converstaion of it being his daughter and younger so he wanted to not seem like he was favoring, Roy asked my dad if I would want to play for his travel team! The Holt Rams and then it morphed into Crown became an opportunity of a lifetime. I played all throughout high school and the end of middle school and I was able to compete with older kids. I gained confidence when I could pitch against great ball players and hang in there and even win. I also was humbled a time or two which only drove me to practice harder and develop that always learning mindset. And my dad was a part of that journey every step of the way. He was the man who opened up those opportunities for me. 

High School: This is where I played for Mr. Larry Baird. A legend around the Lansing area, a legend because he knew the game inside and out. He was a hard person to play for but that's only because he drove us to only excel and get better. He taught me my rise ball and taught me how to fight, fight hard for a win. To be gritty and to also always keep learning. My father was always fighting for me and was my biggest cheerleader and it didn't change through my high school years. He kept every newspaper clilpping and was there at every game. 

College(s): Wow I played for some great coaches, Bob Every, Mark Settle, and Kim Zainea. They each taught me so much. Dad was there through it all. 

Softball became my life and it still has a huge part of my identity even though I do not pitch anymore. The foundation on which I was built was largely based on this sport. My dad was the driver of this. He was the one who brought me the game of softball, saw my potential, fostered that potential, and supported me in every way. Thank you so much dad for being you!

Wow what a story I just encountered on a trip back from a work event. I travel for work quite a bit and I knew my dad was envious of my experiences but also very proud. I think he knew that I met so many people when I traveled and he would've loved to gain those times if he could. He gave up so much for us kids and traveling was one of them, so he enjoyed listening to my stories. Well dad, hopefully you were watching last Friday because this was a doozy.

My intern Brooke and I were traveling home from NY and we were in Washington D.C.s airport huddled on a shuttle to take us to our destination flight back to GR. Brooke had her Hope college sweatshirt on and these two friendly women starting talking with us because they both worked for the college. Nancy Smith was the wife of the Hope soccer men's team coach and Brooke played a bit with hope's team. Turns out she actually went to the Smiths house when they hosted both teams annually. It was a pretty small world but it was about to get smaller.

I asked both women if they were from the Holland area to which they said no. Nancy asked me where I am from and I said DeWitt. She proceeded to say that she was originally from the Grand Ledge area and went to waverly and than to a small Christian school. I said my dad was a retired high school teacher and that we grew up on airport road. Her home was off of Airport and Stohl. Such a small world and then she said, oh my husband and I have a really good friend that we knew from our church and we actually visited them in Germany. Your dad might of taught him since he went to DeWitt. Not thinking that I'd know him I just politely asked who he was. She said Dave Wilson. I immediately threw my hands on my mouth and I had to turn away to keep my composure. I told her that dad was his CC coach and I learned how to play euchre at his family's house. I also said through tears that he spoke at my dads service. Bless her heart because she saw the reaction and quickly said what a wonderful family they are and she saw the pain mixed with joy that was overcoming me. 

We boarded the plane and all I wanted to do was tell dad who I just met. I called my brother and eventually told Anne and for the next ten minutes I quietly sat crying from joy thinking of those connections my dad creates even after he has left us. Like my brother said, dad brought people together in a way we never saw or experienced before. 

This is a picture of two girls named Maya and Calla. For Tom, children were very important. He would be very intentional in bringing some happiness and a little joy to any child that he might meet. For years he would love to go to Meijer, strike up a converstaion with a mother with young children, get to know them and then he would give the mother or the children a small amount of money to buy a treat. This was one of dad's favorite things to do. He loved bringing a smile to a childs face and pass on the love he held in his heart. Nothing brought more joy to him then to buy small presents for others. 

It came full circle one sunny afternoon last year. My brother and I have been playing on a co-ed slowpitch softball team, based in Grand Haven, for over 10 years. Our teammates have been on the same team for this long. The family of the Soule's have been a part of this team since the beginning.

One sunny afternoon my parents went to Grand Haven to visit my brother and his family. They had to stop at the local Meijer prior to getting to their house. Dad ran into a mom with two little girls and started a conversation. In true dad fashion, he insisted that she take the $10 and buy a treat for each of her girls. Through that conversation they quickly realized they had a connection. The mom, Melissa, and her husband play on the softball team that John and I are a part of. Melissa is a Soule!!!! It was such a great coinsidence and it was a type of connection that Tom loved to make. 

This picture is one of my favorites because it was one of the most recent pictures of dad. It provokes the most emotions for me when I look at it. In the last few years my father started to actually say I love you out loud. When we would end phone conversations I'd say I love you dad and he would get quiet and with a soft voice he'd say it back to me. I cherished those words because I knew it wasn't easy for him to vocalize it. My dad was never short on love for us or those around him, he just expressed it out of his actions. The way he'd get excited about getting through to a kid who was struggling in school or have behavioral problems, or the way he'd show up outside of practices not being on the coaching staff to support athletes. He would express it by working hard and instilling values in his children. His love was through the way he'd always be there for every event his kids had or through every endless road trip to drag his daughter to a softball tournement. He showed it by his endless hours of volunteering at loaves and fishes or special days camp. Although I didn't hear those words very much until the last few years, I NEVER once doubted it. 

When I was in 6th grade I sat next to Maia Herndon in English class. Maia just moved to DeWitt so I was just getting to know her. Man I am so glad for the day that she came over for a sleepover. When her parents Pam and Walter came over with Faraa to pick her up, they started talking with my parents and ended up staying until God knows when playing a "friendly" few games of ping pong. Ok so maybe it was more cut throat as we were so competitive but it was that night that was the beginning of our long time friendship with the Herndons. How I cherished our family friendships and we got together every Thanksgiving for years to enjoy each other's company. They were like family to us. I always remembered how much my dad loved your sweet potato pie Pam! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a friend to my father. He loved the Herndons.

Even though this picture is just of my mom and brother, I just had to share it. One of the best gifts that my dad gave to us kids was our experiences with Special Days camp. Through our years of attending and my brothers volunteer and working at the camp, taught us more about life, about people than any book could. I will forever cherish our friendships we made and the ability to be a shoulder for the grieving to lean on. This camp was and is designed to give children with cancer and their siblings a place to go and just be kids. To laugh, cry, play and experience life to its fullest. You are truly a wonderful soul dad and I will be forever thankful for the ways you taught us to be kind and giving to others.

This photo is submitted by Liz and Frank Deak. This is the 50th class reunion of Our Lady of Hungary grade school. My dad was very proud of his Italian and Hungarian history. The three of us kids will always say we always enjoyed the tradional meals that Grandma and Grandpa used to make. 

My junior year (fall of 1970) we had a great cross-country team.  We had a meet with Shepherd, who also had a great team.  It was a long ride there and their course was brutal.  We got our asses kicked.  This was my third season under coach Mauro; first time I had seen him really angry.  He gave us a terrible reaming out.  On the way home, we stopped at the cider mill in St. John's, and he bought us all cider and donuts.  That's the kind of guy he was, a truly kind soul.

Although I had been in the company of Tom Mauro just half a dozen times, I could not have met a more gracious individual than him.  He was a man who was so proud of his children and enjoyed telling stories of their accomplishments.  A true family man - his family was everything to him.  No wonder former students remember him so fondly too.  Sending much love and prayers to his wife, children and grandchildren.

Janet and Frank Kasic

It was no lie that my dad loved April fools day. This one particular time I was sitting in the living room just watching tv. It was just my dad and I at home that day and it was a day after my parents returned from a short trip where they left me home alone for the very first time. He came into the living room and said "Mary I need you to come help me move a chair." In typical Mary fashion I gave him a little bit of a fuss, like dad I'm busy. Plus I was confused at why I needed to move this random chair to the other side of the basement. So I huff down stairs following him and he says "ok get on that side and we will move it." So as I'm picking up the chair, he kind of purposely knocks the back pillow down and sure enough there was an empty beer can hidden behind. I immediately look at it and up at him with fear in my eyes and start to say that's not mine, that's not mine. I have no idea where that came from. He starts in on his glare and the starting of the tongue roll (this was classic dad mad face) while he lets me start to sweat with panic. Only about a min of torture he starts laughing hysterically and said April fools. Needless to say he had so much fun calling everyone to say you should've seen Mary's face. Litttle did he know I was scheming for a future joke years later.