Sarah Burkhalter:
CLASS OF 1972
Robert E. Lee High SchoolClass of 1972
San antonio, TX
Sarah's Story
The Game¿s Not Over, Until the Last Man¿s Out
One of my earliest memories of my father is at a San Antonio Missions¿ baseball game in the late 1950s. As usual, my dad had bought us peanuts to keep our attention through the first two innings and then popcorn and a drink to last until the seventh inning stretch, when we liked to stand up and sing ¿Take me out to the ball game.¿ In the 8th, the Missions were behind and the opposing team got two runs. ¿Let¿s go, Daddy,¿ I pleaded. ¿They can¿t win now!¿ ¿Just wait,¿ my dad replied. My brother Miller began whining for a red snow cone, a treat that my mother had forbidden him since more always ended up on him than in him. ¿Watch the game,¿ my Dad coaxed. ¿You never know what will happen.¿ The opposition got another run. I looked at my father and tugged on his hand. ¿Our team gets to bat again,¿ Dad said. ¿You know, the game¿s not over, until the last man¿s out!¿ And, on that night, he was right. I have carried that hopeful lesson into school essays and real life problems. My father actually believed that as long as you played the game the best you could, there was always a chance you might win.
In the last few months, no matter how hard my father tried to win, the cards were stacked against him. He lost and we all lost. Immediately after his passing, my niece Katie asked, ¿Since Grandpa is gone, does that mean that we won¿t have fun any more?¿
My dad, Miller Burkhalter, worked almost every day of his 86 years, and, although he enjoyed working, he often reminded me that all things in life should be in balance. So, as hard as he worked, he always found time to play, whether it was baseball with Miller, Annette, and me everyday after work in the early 1960s, getting the People Powered Vehicles (PPVs) out for Elizabeth and Stephanie to go cruising in the 1970s or beating grandkids Monica and Edwouard at endless games of Battle in the 1980s. He¿d play any game we asked, anytime, but occasionally, he complained about our ¿Barnyard¿ rules.
One Easter at Guadalupe State Park, my father and mother taught one of their great grandchildren, Austin, to play Spades. During Dad¿s explanation of the subtleties of the game, he regaled us with tales of how my brother Christopher and his friend Adam would cheat by passing cards to each other with their toes. Dad was lucky and skilled, but he admired innovation!
My parents built their marriage on companionable competition, cribbage when they were newlyweds, electric football or race cars when we kids had been tucked in for the night, bridge with friends for more than 60 years. A couple of years ago, on New Year¿s Eve, Dad, Mom and granddaughter Loli, hosted Aunt Mary, Uncle Eddie and Father Jim
for a game of Wii bowling that lasted into the wee hours, until well after 2:00 AM. Loli¿s mother, my sister Elizabeth, joined them for a few frames, after her husband Cal went to bed. My father was a life-long bowler and we spent many Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons in bowling alleys, watching, playing pinball and eventually bumper bowling!
My large family of siblings, significant others, offspring, neighbors and friends have always loved to play board games. We knew my parents couldn¿t be partners for Pictionary, because neither of them could draw. On the other hand, my father was a master of Balderdash, his answers making us all laugh until we cried. Whatever new game was ¿hot¿ found its way into our home, Password, Mexican Train dominoes, and, of course, Hot Dice! My father was an entrepreneur in business and always wanted to have the latest invention in play as well. When we were children, our parents spent months before Christm...Expand for more
as finding out about the latest trends; whether it was four-foot tall talking dolls, marching robots, Pachinko machines or electronic indoor basketball, we¿d find it under the tree. My sister Annette fondly remembers getting Chatty Cathy and Mr. Machine before any of her friends!
Our family played as many outdoor games as indoor. Even in his eighties, my dad would join the kids on the back deck for basketball. At a family reunion about ten years ago, the photographer was trying to get the oldest generation together for a picture, but no one could find my dad. He, of course, was playing third base.
The beach was another place my dad loved to go, a place where he taught each of us to body surf and jump the waves. Over the years we flew kites, tried skid boards and Frisbees and always enjoyed beach volleyball. Recently, a new beach game, Bocce Ball, was introduced when my son-in-law Kevin from Louisiana joined the family. Many July evenings, we women with sandy children in tow, would give in and leave the men playing in the fading light. One night, after we had honked the horns and flashed our headlights to signal our departure, my mother said to us, ¿Your father has never ignored me like this in his whole life!¿ Dad loved to beat all the young guys at Bocce, with his stealthy delivery and accurate placement, two things he learned from Horseshoes, another of his favorite pastimes.
My dad loved all sports, not only playing them, but watching them, too. We grew up going to basketball games at Central Catholic and St. Mary¿s University. My father told us how his grandmother would take him to see the San Antonio Missions play, just like he took us. Dad never missed a Lee High School football game and was never prouder than when my brother Chris played football there and my sister Madeliene was on the dance team. He was a diehard supporter of the San Antonio Spurs, preferred the Red Raiders over the Texas Longhorns, and would ride to Lubbock with Chris to see a game without a moment¿s hesitation. True to his principles, he never left a game before the final whistle!
His love of competitive sport was a gift he passed down to all of us. His granddaughter Loli shared his birthday, his luck at Yatzee and his ability to always make the right play, no matter the game. My dad was quick to say that the highlight of any week was watching his extremely athletic granddaughters, Katie and Loli, play basketball and volleyball. The fathers of the other players were careful not to sit too close to my dad, because he always heckled the referees, and although he never used bad language, people sitting around him were routinely threatened with ejection. Once Isasbella started playing soccer, Dad became her biggest fan. He always made the finals when his great-grandson Austin played soccer and enjoyed cheering for younger brother Jett on the Oakhill All Star Team.
These stories remind me that my father was always a good sport, but also that he loved to compete and to win. He would play games all night, as long as anyone else was willing or until he beat the last competitor. During the past few years, my parents sometimes found themselves at home without so many children. If the Spurs weren¿t playing, they¿d turn off The Game Show Network and play a few rounds of Honeymoon Bridge or Double Solitaire. After my dad¿s recent surgery, my mom and I played Gin Rummy with him. Finished, he declared with feeling, ¿Thanks, I really enjoyed that!¿ Dad loved life, family, and the time we spent together around the game table, out in the yard, and at any sports venue. All of us will think of him with love every time we shuffle the cards or hear someone call ¿Play Ball!¿
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