Norman Matthew Frey (1922-2008)

The first time I met my step-father-in-law, Mr. Frey, (or "Ga" as he was known to Natalie, Sofia, Jackie, and Dylan), was almost ten years ago--labor day weekend, 1998. It was my first trip to 318 Waldorf Street...I was being "shown off" to folks in Pittsburgh for the first time. That address would eventually end up on my driver's license, and although technically I suppose I've never actually lived at 318 Waldorf, I have moved away from that house on no less than three separate occasions over the course of the last ten years. Stefanie always called him that, by the way, "Mr. Frey"--ever since she was very small and even after her mom married him thirty years ago.

I always felt I had a bit of a special connection to him, a northern European descendant in the midst of a southern European/Mediterranean (= Italian) family. A waspy-looking fellow who was always presiding over Italian-American style Christmas Eve dinner--and why not? He was the one that did buy the house at 318 Waldorf fifty years earlier after all. Also, the fact that he had been in the Army Air Corps in WWII was something that always fascinated me about him, too. At the time the Army thought that blue-eyed people had better night vision--so they made him a navigator on a bomber out of England. He spent his whole war time experience in the ETO (European Theater of Operations) ferrying VIPs back and forth, so he never dropped any bombs on anybody, but no matter. He answered the call and served his country--and I, of all people, certainly respect that.

But of course, no discussion about Mr. Frey is ever complete without the most important topic. When I met him in 1998 he was already retired, but even so, there was always sports. And I'm not sure that he was interested in much anything else. I know that's not true, but an entry in the Pittsburgh sports hall of fame is not something that someone wakes up one morning and decides that they want to accomplish in a weekend, either.

I'm not sure it really mattered what variety of sporting event, he could get into them all, but definitely baseball was always best. I never talked to him about it, but I bet he could have coached some pro team somewhere if he had really wanted to, what with all the contacts that he made over the years--but I like to think that he chose to stay at the high school (Peabody, where he was Stefanie AND her mom's PE teacher) and college levels (Duquesne University) so he could get the young boys and turn them into men. And not just sports for sports sake, though, mind you. If a player didn't respect his teachers, show up to class, make passing grades--he didn't play. And that's the way it should be, I think.

He was not a man without flaws, of course, as none of us certainly are--but now that his extra innings are over, now that another member of "the greatest generation" has passed...we should all give thanks and hope that we, too, can have as much influence on as many people as Mr. Frey did, through all those years of teaching, coaching, and mentoring.

Good-bye Mr. Frey, good luck, godspeed. See you in the next life.