Hi, it’s Jackie with some reflections on the day Detroit came together to say goodbye to our beloved Ernie…
They started lining up before dawn. His simple casket, adorned with a folded American Flag, was opened just before 7a.m. I read that one man, Mark Brimacombe, 61, of Toledo left his home at 2:50 a.m. to make his way to Comerica Park to say goodbye. Mr. Brimacombe told the Free Press, “Ernie was part of my growing up…I met Ernie a few times. He was very nice to me. I wanted to say good bye and to thank him.”
As I write this, on a near-perfect spring afternoon - hundreds of fans – and friends – are patiently waiting for their chance to be near the man who meant so much to them – and perhaps – to whisper a prayer of thanks. It’s been that way all day.
It is rare to see such a massive outpouring of love when one individual dies, but then again, Ernie Harwell was the rarest of individuals. Long before he left this earth, stories of his kindness and compassion have abounded from those who were lucky enough to meet him in person… or those just blessed to hear him through a transistor radio secreted under their pillow on a hundred summer nights.
With my apologies to Ernie, I will admit that I’m not the world’s biggest sports fan. (Some genetic malfunction, I think. My five sports-addicted sisters love to remind me that “Jeopardy” is NOT a sport) But while Ernie WAS baseball – he was so much more than that. He embodied all of the things that are good in life.
While growing up around – and ultimately working on - my Dad’s radio show, I had the honor to both meet Ernie and talk with him on the radio. Needless to say, each encounter was magical. There was something about him – a grace – a wink – a unique turn of phrase – that made my heart swell. And the few times he actually said my name… well, it doesn’t get any better than that.
There was something about the way Mr. Harwell spoke that made me (and I imagine a lot of others) feel safe – like a kid snuggled up in bed, secure in the knowledge that Mom and Dad are downstairs ready to chase away the imaginary monsters.
We lost Ernie on the 4th of May… but I can’t help thinking that we will all hear his voice – his amazing voice – in our heads and our hearts every day of this Tiger season and beyond. Ernie did far more than call a great baseball game; he showed us, by example, how to live a great life. Ernie, effortlessly, proved that not only can one man make a difference in the world… one man can make a world of difference.
When I think of Ernie – I think of a simpler, in many ways, better time – and a certain song keeps running through my mind. Those of you who are old enough will recognize the lyrics below. If you don’t… well, find someone over forty and they’ll help you with the tune… God Bless you Ernie, and thank you for everything!
Try to remember the kind of September
when life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
when grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
when you were a tender and callow fellow,
Try to remember and if you remember then follow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
that no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender that
dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender that
love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember and if you remember then follow.
Deep in December it’s nice to remember
although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December it’s nice to remember
without the hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December it’s nice to remember
the fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow.
Ernie and my Dad back in 1992.
(Photograph courtesy of the Detroit News)
