Here in the NAWETH hockey is more than a sport for a lot of people. Hockey ( said with a distinct Canadian accent ) is life blood. The reason to live, to work, to eat, and occupies a significant segment of the conscious mind.

I never really got it. For one thing, as a youngster I was simply no good at the game. When winter froze over the back yards in our Detroit homes and the fellows got together to play, I was the goalie. Not that I was particularly good at it but when a puck was fired toward me and I tried to get out of the way to avoid pain I fell down and effectively blocked the net.

For true hockey afficianadoes Gordie Howe is one step on the ladder below God. So my hockey story involving Gordie Howe goes like this:

I had friends that had a suite at the Silverdome when the Red Wings played there. It was a championship game. The friends were not able to attend the game so they loaned out use of the suite to friends of theirs.

The game was on. The absent suite renters had an acquaintance that they sent to the suite to surprise their hockey fan friends. Gordie Howe, wearing his number nine red wing shirt knocked on the door.

They did not let him in. Had no idea of who he was. My one and only favorite hockey story.

Have a great day. R. I. P. Gordy. Hockey players in heaven now have the supreme Earthly being with them. Mister Hockey; Gordie Howe.

… originally written by my father as a letter to his friends