Admiral Chris Grady asks Graduates: What Would You Fight For? His Answer? Trust and Truth

After listening to Derek Jeter’s commencement address at the University of Michigan, I started wondering which other sports legends—past and present—might be speaking to the Class of 2025. As it turns out, this year’s lineup is impressive: Simone Biles (Washington University—St. Louis), Mia Hamm (University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill), Katie Ledecky (Stanford University), Carmelo Anthony (Syracuse University), and A.J. Brown (Ole Miss), to name just a few. Who would you want to hear?

I’m not sure why a search like this hasn’t been a regular part of my work in Sports and Spirituality. Every year, I check to see where the President is speaking—this year, it's the University of Alabama—and I never miss Notre Dame’s commencement. I’ve written about athletes like Roger Federer, Harrison Butker, and Haley Scott DeMaria when they’ve crossed my radar. From now on, a full search will be part of the routine.

When I read that Admiral Christopher Brady '84 was speaking to the Notre Dame Class of 2025, I took note. As an alum and Vice Chairman and Acting Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I understood why the graduation committee asked him to give the address. With 41 years in the Navy, he said "I have been forged by the sea. But it really started right here — I believe I was forged at Notre Dame first." While a career in the armed forces is much different than one as a professional athlete, I had to wonder Would he? Could he? make a connection to Sports and Spirituality? I am pleased to report that he did. He was inspiring, interesting and his words still sit with me.

Like many speakers, Adm. Grady sought to create a connection with his audience. As someone who once sat in their shoes (albeit not inside Notre Dame Stadium, but the Joyce Athletic Convocation Center) he asked the graduates to pledge their allegiance. While choosing between South vs. North dining hall isn't new material, when he asked the class to declare Who is our number one rival: Ohio State? Clemson? Michigan? or USC? I was utterly delighted in by their response. Go Irish. Beat Trojans (we did). He made reference to all the sports I would need. So what of spirituality?

Grady said that "trust is a precious commodity." I heard those words and the spirit moved me. I leaned in. I listened hard. He said, 

As a young officer, I learned that building and maintaining trust is essential to effective leadership, and that trust is built on a commitment to truth.

When I took command for the first time, I quickly learned that trust is a precious commodity.

First-time captains, as with any leader, have to learn to trust those around them, because no person can do it all, especially on a warship with over 300 people.

And first-time captains, especially, have to get over themselves as the only answer.

For me that came from trusting my command master chief, the ship’s senior enlisted sailor, who pulled me aside and said, “Look, captain, you’re good, but we can be great as a team if you trust the crew … we will speak truth to power if you let us.”

Now, we can debate whether trust is given or earned. But I can tell you trust is difficult to maintain, easy to lose, and — once lost — nearly impossible to get back.

And trust is built through the ruthless commitment to and pursuit of truth.

We ask, “What would you fight for?” and I answer, “truth” — truth is worth fighting for.

During every football game, the University runs an ad that asks that questions: What would you fight for? Students and professors share stories of their work, study, preoccupations that they find worth fighting for. Past responses have been: religious liberty, our country's mental health crisis, rare diseases and education reform. No part of their quest exists without trust and truth. It's integral to the fight.

As much as I love athletes and their contributions to society—art, entertainment, joy and awe, I was humbled by the work of Admiral Grady. Jeter spoke of failing his rookie season. It was challenging; it was real. But adversity, challenge and even failure have a different face in the Navy. He said, 

In my line of work, that means that no plan survives first contact with the enemy.

My best days in command were not when everything went right, but when things went wrong, and the crew — the team — responded.

Like on a beautiful day off the coast of Bahrain when a routine voyage was interrupted by a catastrophic engineering failure, and the crew responded safely, expertly and swiftly.

Or when I was a strike group commander and we had to adjust to changing enemy tactics as we sent the air wing over the beach during the fight against ISIS.

The enemy was a learning adversary, but we learned and adapted faster.

You must do the same.

I turned to my friend and said "he just dropped ISIS on us. Not sure it gets more real than that." Or should I say truthful.

Though graduation speeches can be controversial, formulaic, biased and limited—I learn something from every one of them. At Notre Dame, we have the privilege of a second speech—from the the recipient of the Laetare Medal. This address is 100% spiritual in nature. It is the most prestigious award given to American Catholics by the University of Notre Dame in recognition of outstanding service to the Catholic Church and society. It had been conferred on saints, selfless leaders, men and women in religious life, lay people and more. This year's honoree—Kerry Alys Robinson is the president and chief executive officer of Catholic Charities USA. She spoke a lot of sports, especially football.

I had to wonder if next year, the University might recognize a priest from the South Side of Chicago who has become the first American Pope. Stay tuned and rest assured I will let you know. It's part of my routine.

Blessings to the Class of 2025, to Admiral Grady and Kerry Robinson and all those who have helped these graduates and honorees in their search for truth and in building trust. Go Irish.

Photo Credits
Coach Free
Commencement Speaker

A Graduation Message from Derek Jeter at The Big House: Silence Made Me Better

It's graduation season. queue up "Pomp and Circumstance." We teachers dust off our black robes and hoods. Students are measured for their own. I was in the academic dean's office at school when three girls stopped by to confirm how to correctly pronounce their surnames. I know this assistant principal takes great pride in doing that right. She should!

At this time of year, one question I enjoy asking my colleagues at lunch is: Who gave the commencement address at your graduation? Many don’t remember. Some can give a general idea or share a few details. But I have a feeling the University of Michigan’s Class of 2025 won’t forget theirs. He is the 2020 MLB Hall of Fame inductee, five-time World Series champion, and legendary shortstop for the New York Yankees: Derek Sanderson Jeter.

Born in New Jersey, Jeter grew up in Kalamazoo, MI . Given that "The Captain" was a Wolverine for one year before turning pro, I wasn’t surprised by the University’s choice. I’m not a Yankee fan. I like Michigan even less, but he hit it out of the park (sorry! I couldn’t resist). I laughed. I cried. I watched it twice.

As a baseball player, I suspected he would address the importance of failure—as a mechanism for personal growth, humility and more. He did. 

If I can promise you one thing for certain: You will fail.I failed publicly. I failed miserably. There were days I literally cried because I was so bad. My first season as a professional, I made 56 errors. For the non-baseball fans, that’s hard to do intentionally.

The important thing, is to see disappointment as an opportunity to learn, not as a reason to quit.

It’s your job to make sure that a speed bump doesn’t become a roadblock.

Surrounding yourself with the right people will also help buoy you after a failure — and make your chance of success greater.

Easy for a baseball player to say, right? But to me Jeter's message had added nuance and depth. I couldn't help but think of his time with the Miami Marlins. Three years after retiring from his work on the field in baseball, Jeter became CEO and part of the ownership group. In 2022, he left his position of overseeing business and baseball operations; the Marlins had a mixed record under his leadership. To say he failed might be unfair. He faced a series of speed bumps. The road took him elsewhere.

Jeter has always spoken about the importance of his parents—the expectations they held, the way they challenged and supported him. As written in The University Record:

While you may fail on your own, Jeter said, it’s nearly impossible to succeed alone.

For Jeter, the right people included his parents. 

“I’d walk onto the field to warm up before a game, and I’d look up into the stands. People thought I was looking around and not focusing. I was really looking for mom and dad,” he said.

“It gave me comfort that I wasn’t alone, even when they physically weren’t present, I knew they believed in me, were rooting for me, were supporting me.” 

Jeter’s words remind me that true greatness comes from both within and beyond. Simone Biles — who, fittingly, spoke at St. Louis University’s commencement — has expressed the same truth. Before every competition, she would look to the stands for her parents. But during the 2021 Tokyo Olympics, COVID restrictions kept families away. Biles cites this absence as a key factor in her mental health struggles.

The importance of family support and the lessons we learn from failure are important but standard remarks for graduates. What I found particularly poignant was his recommendation for silence. He said, 

I spent my entire career playing in the biggest media market in the world. The glare was constant. The attention was relentless. Many called me mysterious, amongst other things — but we'll use 'mysterious' — because I kept things private. In reality I was just listening to the voice in my head. It was my dad's voice. He kept telling me, 'Be patient.' Listen more than I spoke. So I looked. I listened. I learned. Silence made me smarter. Silence made me better.

Catholic writer Matthew Kelly would agree. He says we must all spend time in the classroom of silence. This is where Jeter found his way. You won't find a singular faith tradition or world religion that underestimates the importance and the power of silence. It's restorative. It's generative. It's where the Lord comes to us.

Though I have heard the band play "The Victors" many times, I never knew the actual words to the Michigan fight song (*I am familiar with an alternate version). Awarded an honorary Doctor of Law degree, his message has addition meaning. "After all, that Michigan degree that you are receiving today gives you an edge. And so do the words of our fight song: Hail to the victors, the conquering heroes, the leaders and best."

Thank you, Captain for these lessons—even about the fight song. Congratulations to all the graduates in Ann Arbor and throughout the country. Enjoy your moment and live the message.
Go Irish ;-) 

Photo Credits
Commencement
Biles
Silence

Sports and Spirituality Welcomes Pope Leo XIV

No doubt, the celebration of Mother's Day bumped mass attendance, but I had to wonder: Were more people in the pews because we have a new Pope—an American one! My pastor's opening remarks focused on our extraordinary week for our Church as we named the 267th successor of Saint Peter. Welcome Pope Leo XIV!

Given that we live in a great information age—with facts and findings literally at our fingertips, it wasn't just Catholics eager to learn more about the new religious leader in the Vatican. Folks from Chicago, Villanova alumni,  those in attendance at Augustinian institutions, lapsed Catholics, C&E Catholics, White Sox fans and more want to know more about Robert Francis Pervost. So much has been written and more is to be determined but it's high time that Sports and Spirituality weighed in. I wanted to share but a few thoughts.

It's never who or what you expect.
When people asked me—or the other theology teachers I work with—who we thought would be named the next pope, most of us gave the same answer: “It’s never who you expect.” Though I shared my own preferences and suspicions, the truth is, I ultimately leaned on that same belief: It’s never who you expect." Why is so hard to live by our very own words?

The night of the first official voting at the Conclave—black smoke—I received a group text from three Catholic friends. It said "Okay guys, are we getting an American Pope? Black smoke tomorrow or will one be chosen?" My response? "Zero chance of an American pope. Not sure how long it will take this group. Always interesting." Less than 24 hours later, a colleague came by my classroom to share there was white smoke at the Vatican. I heard rumblings from another teacher that they chose an American Pope. I actually said out loud, "Dan doesn't know what he is talking about." 

Turns out Dan DID know what he was talking about—a man born and raised in the United States was elected to the Holy See. Turns out I too knew what I was talking about—it's never someone you expect (this is certainly true with Francis and John Paul I and John Paul I. Benedict was a known entity). I said those words and yet I struggled to believe what I had professed as true. Very human. 

Habemus papam
At the beginning of the next class period, the Assistant Principal for Mission came on the P.A. with an announcement. A Latin scholar—a junior named Alex— had his moment in the sun as he read the official announcement out of the Vatican that was read by to the waiting crowds by Cardinal Protodeacon Dominique Mamberti. Alex repeated what he said.

Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum;
habemus papam:


Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum Robertum Franciscum

Sanctae Romane Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost qui sibi nomen imposuit Leo XIV  

Or in English,  

I announce to you a great joy;
we have a pope: The Most Eminent and Most Reverend Lord Robert Francis Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church Prevost who has taken the name Leo XIV

My students heard the news delivered with joy and enthusiasm and they clapped. It was awesome. I work at a Jesuit high school and when Jorge Mario Bergolio, S.J. was named Pope, the faculty we all were excited, but not like this. This moment in world history—naming an American to the papacy was not lost on young people. It is something I will not forget.

Don't Stop Believin'
Within minutes, friends and family were sharing fun facts, memes and anecdotes about the new Pope. Out of the gate, a news article declared Pope Leo XIV to be a Cubs fan. Having heard he was from the South side, I was skeptical of this news. I thought to myself "Where's the evidence?" I also thought given the class issues that often characterize the fans from the North side (Cubs territory) to those in the South (Sox nation), if this allegiance were true—there must be a good reason. People are free to follow who they want, but in a city like Chicago, there's some explaining to do. 

Pope Leo's brother weighed in and settled the score and I can't help but smile. Not because it's utterly remarkable that we have TV footage of him at the 2005 World Series, but because of the theme song that characterized that White Sox team: Don't Stop Believin'. 

As written in my post The Balm of Sports, "In 2005, this team did the impossible. They remained in first place from Opening Day until they defeated the Houston Astros to win the World Series title. It had been 88 years since the franchise last clinched a championship (their third). The 2010 San Francisco Giants hold Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" as the unofficial theme song of our city's first World Series championship, but the credit should go to that 2005 crew."

Believe. Have Faith. What a perfect message for a team and for a moral leader, like the Pope to say. I think my friend Courtney's brother, Josh would like Pope Leo XIV—and not just because of his allegiance to the ChiSox (his story is captured in the aforementioned blog post).

Civilization of Love / Culture of Encounter
As word of Leo's sports fandom spread, it became a cultural phenomenon, birthing a million memes and his own signature Topps card. Kendall Baker of Yahoo Sports writes, "His election even moved betting markets: In the 24 hours after Prevost was elected, Villanova had the most bets to win the 2026 men's basketball title and received more action than all other teams combined.

The pope is also a hoophead: One longtime friend said they used to watch Bulls games together and discuss Villanova basketball, and old tweets showed Prevost cheering on the Wildcats."

But he isn't just a sports fan, "while living in Rome, he played tennis here weekly,” Father Joseph Farrell, the American prior general of the Order of St. Augustine, said. “He realizes just how important staying in good physical shape is. He certainly plays tennis for the joy of the game, to keep up with the game, but also for stress relief!”

While I certainly celebrate his love for sports, it is VERY short-sighted to recognize this Pope as the only one with a sports connection. John Paul II was an avid sportsman—a skier and a hiker. He loved the outdoors and in his writings, he saw sport as one of the crucial signs of the times, a "cultural mediator," uniquely "capable of interpreting contemporary man's hopes and needs." He said "Sports in fact can make an effective contribution to peaceful understanding between peoples and to establishing the new civilization of love." (On the Eighth Day).

Pope Francis only furthered this teaching with his own vision of the culture of encounter. He declared "to speak of a culture of encounter means we, as a people, should be passionate about meeting others, seeking points of contact, building bridges, planning a project that includes everyone." Pope Francis believed that soccer could do this. Given it's popularity, it's quite possible that Pope Francis' message might have even been more accessible to people world wide. 

Building from prior papal teachings and his own love of sport, I have to wonder, what's next? What might Pope Leo XIV teach us all about sports and spirituality in the years to come. I can't wait.

One addendum. In this week's department meeting a colleague said "I'm so glad that Pope Leo is from Villanova and not Notre Dame." Without blinking an eye, I said "I totally agree. We are already a lot. To have the Holy Father as an alum would just be too much... I'm so happy for Nova. They are tearing it up in the NBA and now the Vatican."

Truly, we've been given hope and a sign that the Holy Spirit continues to work in our world. In the first words of Pope Leo XIV, "Peace be with you." 

Photo Credits
Topps Card
Comiskey

A Team Where No One is Left Behind: The Work of Steph Curry

This time of year is special in the NBA—not just for the intensity of playoff basketball, but also because it’s when the league celebrates some of its most meaningful honors. While I love the performance awards like Defensive Player or Rookie of the Year, it’s the extraordinary awards that truly stand out. These aren't about points or rebounds; they celebrate legacy, character, leadership, and the kind of impact that can’t be measured. These awards honor players who elevate not just their teams, but their communities—and the game itself. You don’t have to be a Golden State Warriors fan to recognize that Steph Curry embodies all of that. No wonder he is the 2025 Twyman–Stokes Teammate of the Year honoree.

Twelve players—six from each conference—are finalists for the Twyman–Stokes Teammate of the Year Award. While the league already honors sportsmanship with the Joe Dumars Trophy, the "Teammate of the Year" award recognizes selfless play, leadership on and off the court, as well as unwavering team commitment. These qualities, though sportsmanlike, reflect the  legacy of the awards namesakes Jack Twyman and Maurice Stokes, for whom the award is named.

The award was announced by the league on April 28 and given by Coach Kerr to Steph Curry —after practice, standing mid court with the team and other coaches. Without a doubt, his work on the court is magnanimous. We are all witnesses to the greatest shooter of the day. And although I don't personally know Steph, from all that I have read, seen and encountered myself—I believe he's magnanimous off the court too. 

He is great because he pays attention on a micro and macro level. He takes notice, he listens and he prays. That's magnanimity. I show the AppleTV movie about his life, "Underrated" to my students because I want them to see that for themselves. One of my favorite scenes early on features Steph riding solo on the subway.  With his head leaning against the window he says, "I'm constantly trying to find the space just to be able to to survey my life, survey what's going onto let my mind think about, How did I get here?" Hard work. Determination. Faith, Kindness. Sacrifice. I think those might be a few ways to answer that question.

If being a good teammate means that you continue to improve, work harder and smarter then look no further than Steph. However, the story behind the award sets the stage for the criteria. According to SFGate, in 1958 Maurice Stokes "suffered a brain injury in the final game of the 1957-58 regular season, fell into a coma days later and became permanently paralyzed." He was just 24. In an extraordinary act of loyalty and compassion, Jack Twyman became Stokes' legal guardian and advocate, and supported him for the remaining 12 years of Stokes' life. Their relationship went beyond sports—it was about brotherhood, sacrifice, and selflessness.

I see those qualities in Steph Curry and this post by Mukurima X Muriuki, confirmed my hunch. It also catapulted Steph into first place: my favorite athlete of all time. Yes, I am biased. And yes, this is a true story. Enjoy.

It’s 2:30 a.m. at San Francisco International. Everyone is tired. The Golden State Warriors have just landed from a brutal road trip. Staff, coaches, and players scatter. Everyone eager to get home and crash.

Everyone except one guy.

Quinten Post.

He is a rookie, new to the league and still waiting for his big moment. 

He doesn’t have a big contract, so he can only afford so much.

And it is in such ungodly hour when shit hits the fan. And it did

His Uber app would not load. And as a result he did not have a ride

Post is 7 feet tall. And that was the height of uncertainty, standing alone on the curb, invisible to most.

Except one.

Stephen (Múrage) Curry.

Two-time MVP. 

Four-time champ. 

Face of the franchise.

“You trying to get home?” Steph asked Post.

Post mumbles something, embarrassed. “It’s cool, I’ll figure it out.”

But Curry isn’t wired that way.

“I got you,” he replied

And just like that, the most recognizable athlete in the Bay Area becomes the most dependable teammate in the league. 

Steph drives the rookie home—no cameras, no PR, just kindness at 2:30 in the morning.

“Out of the 50 people at that airport,” Post would later say, “Steph was the last person who had to care. But he did. That’s who he is.”

Isitoshe,

Now here is  where the story bends.

Fast forward to Game 4 of the NBA playoffs  this past weekend. Warriors vs. Rockets.

In a first quarter where Steph could not  buy a bucket, ir is Quinten Post—yes, the same rookie once stranded at the airport—who catches fire.

He nails back-to-back threes, swats a shot into the fifth row, and screams into the crowd like he has been here before.

He hasn’t. But in that moment, he belongs.

Steph cheered on, like a proud big brother. Because he knew. He saw the worth in Post long before the world did.

Stephen Curry did not help him for clout. He helped him because that’s the culture he helped build—a team where no one is left behind.

May the day break! 

A team where no one is left behind. That's what Twyman and Stokes did for one another. That's what Curry and Post have shared. It sounds a lot like the Kingdom we are called to build here and now.

And for what it's worth, Curry won "Sportsman of the Year in 2011." Congratulations Steph. We got you.

Photo Credits
Honors
Curry and Post

Remembering my Uncle, Guy Stricherz through Sport, Spirituality and Americans in Kodachrome

In the center of my grandparents' living room stood a stately fireplace with a wooden mantle, adorned with six framed 8" × 10" photographs of my grandfather, my father, and four uncles. The portraits were arranged chronologically from oldest to youngest—three on the right and three on the left. I can still recall with remarkable clarity details about each one. But, one in particular was extra special.

Coach and Family. Enumclaw, WA. 1952

Looking at that photograph, I remember asking my parents, "Who is that?"

"That's your Uncle Guy," they replied. Guy lived in New York City, so I hadn't yet met him. Even though I was only three or four years old, I vividly recall thinking, "Wow! I have another uncle! Lucky me!" To this day, that's exactly how I feel. Call it luck, a blessing, or both—I am forever grateful to have had an uncle like Guy.

I share this memory because I would like to write a tribute in his honor. Guy passed away peacefully in his sleep on Saturday, March 29, 2025 at his home on Vashon Island, in Washington. His life's work and passion offer a unique perspective on the intersection of sports and spirituality.

In 1981, Guy started the Color Vision Imaging Laboratory, in a the Little Italy neighborhood of Manhattan, to make dye transfer prints of color photographs. "An offshoot of the Technicolor film process that revolutionized the movie industry, dye transfer printing was invented in 1946; the process dominated the advertising industry and graphic arts for nearly half a century, until 1994, when Kodak discontinued discontinued making the materials for the process and sold its remaining stock of film, paper and dyes to master printers like Stricherz" (An Eggleston to Dye for).

I met him when I was seven years old at my Uncle Mark and Aunt Jolyn's wedding. I was their flower girl and he was the uncle who sought to get me out on the dance floor. I saw him again when I ten years old as he came home to Washington state for my grandfather's funeral. He offered a compelling eulogy. I still remember some of what he said. He was easy to love and as cool as his name.

In the years to follow, he would visit us in California as he worked with a specialist at a store near by to restore his Harley (see the aforementioned nod to cool). During that time he did what a good uncle does. He gave us hugs and brought so much life to our house. When we went out for Mexican food, he let my sister and I try his margarita. We were ten and twelve. He would leg wrestle with my brother (think arm wrestling but using one's leg). He wore a black t-shirt, jeans and stylish eye glasses. He lived up to that name.

The stories that emerge about our loved ones after they have died are legion. Perhaps some are undeserved. Those about Uncle Guy are anything but undeserved. He did after all hitch hike to New York!

Each day, my class, Sports and Spirituality begins with prayer. While my students are the leaders of this class ritual, after my Uncle Guy died, I wanted to make mention of his life and this loss. Before asking for their prayers, I went in search of a a connection between his life's work and our course curriculum. I had to know if his masterpiece Americans in Kodachrome featured any photographs about sports. 

As written by my Uncle Guy

Americans in Kodachrome 1945–1965 is a portrayal of daily life during these formative years of modern American culture. It is comprised of ninety-five exceptional color photographs made by over ninety unknown American photographers. These photographs were chosen from many thousands of slides in hundreds of collections. Like folk art in other mediums, this work is characterized by its frankness, honesty, and vigor. Made as memoirs of family and friends, the photographs reveal a free-spirited, intuitive approach and possess a clarity and unpretentiousness characteristic of this unheralded photographic folk art. Conceived as a book and a nationwide exhibition, Americans in Kodachrome is an evocative and haunting portrait of a historic generation of Americans.

I decided I should go straight to the source and find my answer.

The book includes photographs from all 50 states. Most feature Americans with family—at table for birthdays and holiday gatherings, by their car or with friends. Several show weddings, prom and date nights. I started to wonder if the closest I would get to sport would include the pictures of Americans hunting or fishing, but at long last, I found one that clearly portrays (popular) sports are we know it:  Baseball Player —Wanakena New York, 1953. Jim Wark.

When you look at this photograph what do you see? Where does your mind go? 

I can't help but think this is no "turn back the clock" game. This is baseball in 1953. I can only imagine the player—maybe a short stop or centerfielder—driving home after what surely must have been a win. By the dirt on his pants, I see that the words "put me in coach" were in effect. Was he heading to a restaurant named Geary's for post-game fuel? Truly, something of this man's spirit and the spirit of the game emerges in and through the printing process.

In Catholicism, Richard P. McBrien  asserts that: "To be spiritual means to know and to live according to the knowledge, that there is more to life than meets the eye." To be spiritual means, we are forever seeking to find God in all things and in all things find God. We are invited to see things anew—to find deeper meaning, truth, love and light. And it is in with this understanding that my search for an image featuring sport became a meaningful and memorable moment. A spiritual one.

The image that kick started my Uncle Guy's love for Kodachrome is entitled "Coach and Family. Enumclaw, Washington. 1952. James P. Hughes."  The coach is my grandfather, Ed. My Dad is in the middle. My Uncle Guy is in my grandmother's arms. My uncles Tim and Jay are on either side of my grandpa. My Uncle Mark has yet to come. 

Guy writes 

A Kodachrome slide of my family taken in 1952 arrived in the mail at my parent's home in 1985. It was made by an old friend of my folks from South Dakota who had visited us one summer in our hometown of Enumclaw, Washington. As I am the self-designated family historian, as well as a color photographic printer, my mother forwarded the snapshot to my studio in New York City. I was astonished by the vivid color and well-preserved quality of the tiny relic, a miniaturized reality from 33 years past. The scene is startlingly familiar, yet lost to me. It was as if a long forgotten memory had been suddenly recalled. 

There is my father, coach of our hometown, champion Hornets, his blue football jacket over a white T-shirt, and my mother, the immaculate homemaker with a Mona Lisa smile in her yellow blouse and multicolored skirt. They stand with their four blue jean clad sons on the verdant lawn in front of our modest home. For me, the picture symbolizes how far my folks had come from the dust bowl that was the Great Plains of their youth to the green grass. We stood on beneath the foothills of Mount Rainier, which on clear days cast its purple hues through the paint of our living room windows. This picture portrays us as we wish to be remembered and remains as documentary proof that my parents had realized the American dream. Transcending its private meaning, the image serves as a poignant metaphor for the often idealized memory of postwar America.

I almost missed that this photo is both directly and indirectly about sports. My Uncle Guy named it "Coach and Family." That wasn't just a title for my grandfather; "Coach" was integral to his identity (so much so that his copy of Sports Illustrated was addressed to Coach Ed Stricherz).

This photograph hung in my grandparents living room. Much like my feeling about my Uncle Guy, I loved it  from the start. And, the more I see it and study it, the more it means to me. I just learned why they rolled their jeans....with four boys (and one more to come), once you start growing taller, the length of the cuffs could adjust. My Dad recently told me he's not smiling because he had a strong overbite. Fortunately, he got braces. I began to wonder where my grandmother purchased her stylish clothing. Could this photo not resonate with many American families? Truly there is more to life than what meets the eye. The art form of photography rests on that principle.

What I might love the most about my copy of Americans in Kodachrome is that it once belonged to my Godfather, my Uncle Tim. Inside, he wrote "January 4, 2003: For my brother Tim, with Love." When he died in 2019, my Uncle Guy urged me to keep Tim's edition. He had the foresight and vision to sign it once again when it became my own. Next to the note for my Uncle Tim, he wrote "February 3, 2018. For my niece, Anne, with Love."

As captured in Newsweek, December 8, 2002, my Uncle Guy believed "each image is a mystery with a private meaning unknown to us, yet each holds a truth common to us all."  It's safe to say through his work and focus on color and printing he not only invited us into that mystery, he enabled us to see our fellow Americans and my own family with a new lens—a spiritual one.

I would be remiss if I were not to include that Guy is survived by his wife, Irene Malli, and children—my cousins Matilda and Guy. As written in his obituary, "In 1989, while looking to hire a studio assistant, Guy met Irene Malli. She soon became the love of his life and his business partner. They were married at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in New York on November 4th, 1989, and spent 35 beautiful years living and working together. He always said Americans in Kodachrome, could never have been completed without her persistent help." I cannot forget the love and affection that these three gave to one another at Guy's funeral. Unsurpassed. Beautiful.

Thank you, Uncle Guy for your love and your legacy. May perpetual light—and color—shine upon you.

Photo Credits
Baseball Player
Americans in Kodachrome
Coach and Family