Category: Al

The Longacres Mile, My Dad, and Me

Published on by Andy Smallman1 Comment

In 1974, my dad was transferred from the city of my birth, Omaha, to the Seattle area by Brach Candy, his employer. I sometimes say to people in the northwest, if you’ve heard of Brach Candy, my dad likely had something to do with your awareness.

Legendary jockey Willie Shoemaker after winning the 1978 Longacres Mile – photo credit: me!!
What also transferred from the midwest to the northwest was my dad’s love for horse racing. Not far from SeaTac Airport was a racetrack called Longacres. I’ve written about this place many times as it has significant memories for me and they can all be traced to my dad.

As a kid, I watched him pore over the Racing Form, interpreting those little numbers into something that pitted his intellect against that of others. The intellectual challenge of this practice, what’s called handicapping, has always had a great appeal to me. In fact, beginning in high school and beyond as I made a career in education, I’ve often said that the best standardized test question I ever encountered is this:

“Pick the winner from a field of ten going six furlongs for a claiming price of $6250.”

The showcase race event of every Longacres season was the Longacres Mile. Taking place in August, it often brought the best horses on the west coast to Seattle, along with top jockeys and trainers. In 1978, my brother Scott & I stood at the finish line all day so I could be in place to take a picture of the finish and maybe get a photo of Willie Shoemaker. I got both as you can see here.

Longacres Mile Finish 1978 – photo credit: me!!
The Longacres Mile was an important event for my dad and me for reasons that I hope have become obvious. We shared the joy of Trooper Seven winning the Mile in back-to-back years, 1980 and 1981, the first horse to ever do so. I’ve embedded the video of the 1981 race below, as called by legendary track announcer Gary Henson (who, incidentally, became a friend of mine when I worked at Longacres in 1988).

Longacres closed in 1992 but racing stayed alive with the opening of Emerald Downs in 1996. And I was more than pleased to see the new track officials honor the old traditions by keeping the Longacres Mile alive. In August each year, the famed race has taken place. As you might have watched in the video embedded in my blog post three posts back, my dad predicted the winner of the 2005 Mile for the local and national publications he wrote for. The winner, No Giveaway, went off at 60-1.

This is especially poignant for me today because a few weeks before my dad died, we had put on our calendars today’s date. Yes, it’s August, Yes, the Longacres Mile was run today at Emerald Downs. I thought about going by myself but instead went over to help my mom with some organizing in advance of my dad’s upcoming memorial.

Of additional poignance for me is this – The last (and final) time I took my dad to the racetrack was a year ago for the Longacres Mile.

Broken Heart Syndrome

Published on by Andy Smallman1 Comment

First, let me preface this post by saying that my mom is fine and after a night in the hospital is back home, resting comfortably.

Everybody good? Okay, then…

My mom with Remy last week, a few days after my dad had died.
Yesterday morning, my brothers & I received a text from our mom that said, “Having a bad morning physically after a bad night. Think it’s a food reaction but it isn’t going away. I really don’t want to call 911.  Keep you posted.”

I immediately called her and after she described chest pains and tightness of breath, we agreed she should call 911. I had just arrived at work so I quickly packed up my stuff and returned to my car. It was going to be a slow drive from Northgate to Mercer Island at 8:30am so I knew I had better get going. Fortunately, my new co-workers were again understanding and said they had me covered.

As I was crossing the I-90 Floating Bridge from Seattle to Mercer Island, my cell phone rang and the caller ID indicated it was my mom calling. It wasn’t. It was a paramedic who said, “Your mom is having a heart attack. Instead of coming to her place, meet us at the ER at Overlake Hospital.”

Simple enough to do physically. A little more challenging mentally.

Upon arriving at the ER, I saw four or five people attending to my mom, inserting lines, changing her into a hospital gown, speaking with reassuring tones, but acting with the utmost urgency. Within a couple of minutes, a cardiologist arrived who explained to us both, “Okay, you’re having a heart attack and what we need to do is called an angiogram.”

A coronary ultrasound.
As he’s explaining this, another person arrives with consent paperwork and a pen. He is holding the form over my mom as the cardiologist continued, “We’re going to insert a probe into an artery, either through your wrist or your groin, to see what’s happening in your heart. There is a 1 in 1000 chance of something bad happening during this procedure, a stroke, or a heart attack, or the artery may break.”

Let me say that that’s a lot to take in. But he wasn’t done, “If we discover a blockage, we’ll be able to do an angioplasty and hopefully clear it. But there is a 1 in 100 chance of something bad happening during this procedure. But it’s much riskier to do nothing.”

My mom turned to me, “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should have the procedure.”

At that point, the pen was placed in her hand and she signed the form. Almost immediately, her gurney was moved from the ER to wherever they would do this procedure. I hurried along after her, walk-jogging with the cardiologist, carrying my mom’s purse. The cardiologist repeated some things and told me she was in good hands, then took me to a waiting room with these words, “While the procedure is pretty quick, please don’t assume the worst if I’m not back out to update you for a little while. No news is good news.”

I sat down, updated my brothers and others via text, and wondered what a person is supposed to think about at times like these.

Just before my brother, Scott, arrived, a different cardiologist came out and invited me to sit down (is that good or bad when you’re invited to sit down?). She said, “We didn’t find any blockages; in fact, I hope I have the coronary arteries your mom has when I’m 90.”

Exhale.

Back in her apartment today having lunch.
“What we think your mom is experiencing is something called ‘Broken Heart Syndrome.’ It’s when a person has recently experienced a significant loss or some other kind of trauma and it impacts their heart. We’re going to admit her for observation but otherwise I think she’ll be just fine. Expect one or two nights in the hospital.”

It turned out to be one night.

About Broken Heart Syndrome, learn more at the Mayo Clinic website. It’s a pretty interesting read.

Continuing to Process My Dad’s Death

Published on by Andy SmallmanLeave a comment

On Friday last week, I attended a meeting at the school I’m now working for (I’m the new principal at Spring Academy in North Seattle – want more detail, ask). While still in France, I had informed the leadership team that my dad had died and that I might need some extra time away than I had already been granted for Melinda’s and my France trip. They’ve been extraordinarily generous with time off, given my status as a new employee. And they responded to the announcement of my dad’s death with continued generosity – “Take as much time as you need.”

Anyway, there was a meeting of the leadership team on Friday and I thought it was important for me to attend. It turns out that they weren’t expecting me so it was a surprise when I walked in. I first saw the retiring principal, Frank, who greeted me with warmth and kindness. He’d read the two previous posts I’ve made here about my dad and after the first sent me a very supportive message. Having read the second, the one with the video of my Dad at the local racetrack, Frank said, “I didn’t know you had a connection to horse racing.”

My dad and me at Emerald Downs in the late 90’s.
“Yeah,” I said, “It was a major connection for my dad and me. I even worked for The Daily Racing Form on multiple occasions back in the 80’s & 90’s.”

“My father-in-law was a trainer at Longacres back then,” Frank said. “Maybe you heard of him. His name was Marion Smith.”

“You’re kidding me? Smitty, Million Dollar Smith? Everyone knew him!”

So there was one of those small world connections, the kind that make you think there is more to this world than just random coincidences.

Our school meeting got started and I was still basking in the connection Frank shared. Knowing I’d be heading over to my parent’s apartment after the meeting, I compartmentalized the story, saving it to share with my dad when I arrived at my parent’s. I knew he’d really appreciate it.

Seconds later, I thought, wait. I can’t tell my dad that story…

That’s what’s going on right now.

Al Smallman : Angles From Experts

Published on by Andy Smallman2 Comments

Processing my dad’s death is like how imagine it is to ride a roller coaster (I say imagine because I don’t ride roller coasters). The ups and downs, the feeling of celebration in one second followed by confusion or something like fear in the next. I suspect that anyone who has experienced the death of someone close knows what I mean.

My folks at Chloe’s & Alex’s wedding celebration – July, 2022.

I’m back home in Seattle and spent yesterday with my mom, along with my brother Steve who is up from the Bay Area, working on those menial transition tasks that you don’t really think about before someone dies (like how the credit cards were all in my dad’s name). I spent a couple of hours connected to his email account unsubscribing him from the many mailing lists he followed. Each click of an unsubscribe link had a little pang of pain, like I was deleting part of my father’s reality from the present. But it also brought a feeling of clarity, like removing a veil that allows me to better see his true essence.

See what I mean? Roller coaster.

I’m adjusting back to the Seattle timezone which after being in France for a couple of weeks takes some doing. As such, I get tired at odd hours and am wide awake at others, like 2am Seattle time (11am in France). This past night, at 2am when I was wide awake, I remembered a fabulous video that Emerald Downs made of my dad in 2017. I looked for it and found it on YouTube and am embedding it below. Playing it, it’s the first time I’ve heard my father’s voice since he died.

That’s another of those roller coaster moments, believe me.