June 29.
Among 365 days in a calendar year, that date doesn’t stand out for most people for any particular reason.
There are a few dates that do. December 25, January 1, February 14 and of course July 4 come to mind.
Each of us probably have our own meaningful and memorable dates that coincide with birth dates, anniversaries or other special occasions or notable moments in our lives.
Until 2025, June 29 was just another day on the calendar, one that every year is most likely consumed by baseball or perhaps some family time.
But June 29, 2025 turned out to be far different, far more memorable than any June 29 that had come and gone the previous 55 years.
The days leading up to it were both hectic and out of the ordinary.
A trip to southern Minnesota began that Thursday and things were a bit off.
There was nagging discomfort, which came and went starting a couple nights previously, a tightness or indigestion that just wouldn’t dissipate.
It came and went, and at times was resolved with a burp. It seemed and I concluded it was a minor annoyance.
The discomfort came and went both on the trip to the Twin Cities and even prompted a rare mid-afternoon nap once arriving at the hotel. That’s so out of the ordinary it should have been a sign.
Thursday night’s game was rained out and on Friday we took many of the guys to a nearby mall.
That nagging discomfort came again and a long respite in a coffee shop served as the remedy.
By evening, all was well again and a couple of games at a beautiful ballpark in Cannon Falls served as a distraction for whatever nagging ailment was there.
But the tide turned yet again and was more ominous late Saturday morning as we closed the trip out at a classic field in Miesville.
This time things definitely seemed off. Hitting pregame infield brought not just discomfort, but tightness and the feeling of “overheating.” Sitting in the shade for a few minutes provided some relief and it was chalked up to the weather. After all, the temps were well into the 80s.
An Ely win was followed by a postgame stop at King’s, an iconic burger bar in tiny Miesville.
About 35 of us, players, coaches and families, had a room reserved in the back, but my arrival was delayed. That darn tightness was back and was only resolved, partially, by changing into shorts and keeping the air conditioning on at full blast.
Thankfully, the ride home was uneventful and I was by myself. That discomfort came and went but was nowhere near as bad as it was earlier in the day.
That led to Sunday, June 29, a day that started lazily - no surprise after better than 600 miles on the road and a lot of baseball and heat.
My mom, JoAnne, was in town that day and we all went to the Grand Ely Lodge that night. I don’t quite remember what I had for dinner, but those around me say I wasn’t quite myself. A bit aloof. A bit crabby.
After dinner I tried to get a head start on a busy July 4 week at the Echo and got a baseball story done for the sports page, but no matter what I did this time that tightness had returned and was not going away.
My chest hurt. Constantly. Something was clearly not right. It was heartburn combined with some pain and squeezing.
When I got home, I told Hollee that “I need to go in,” and she knew instantly what that meant.
Within minutes, my motherin- law Peg arrived at our house to look after a sleeping Macy, and we were on our way to Ely-Bloomenson.
The rest has been chronicled previously on these pages.
A heart attack. A helicopter ride to Duluth. Seeing my mom in my hospital room only a few hours after she had been in Ely for our family dinner at the GEL.
Then came a harrowing two days in intensive care that first included talk of bypass surgery and then a cancer diagnosis.
The storm clouds faded by Wednesday of that week, with the first of two stent procedures and the literally life-saving news that the cancer was treatable and removable. A November surgery on that front worked wonders.
The last year has come with a renewed appreciation for life, for family, for friends and for doing things that I would otherwise put off and wait for a more convenient time.
The last 12 months have been grueling and exhilarating all at once, but also there has been trepidation as June 29 approached.
Hollee and I joked about the one-year anniversary of our life-changing day.
Once again, it coincided with the Legion team’s trip south.
The tightness and chest pain that were so prevalent in 2025 were thankfully absent this time around.
Four wins in four games only served to lift spirits and the ride home from the Twin Cities last Saturday was uneventful.
Sunday was exactly 52 weeks of that fateful day and after a relaxing afternoon at home we tempted fate with another dinner at the GEL. This time, the smiles were plentiful and nobody could accuse me of being in a bad mood.
Then came the date. Monday, June 29.
A welcome hug from Hollee started the day and we reflected on what happened a year ago and how things could have turned out so much differently, and for the worse.
There were a few hours at the office, a start on this column, and some time at the ballpark as Mother Nature intervened - delivering a heck of a thunderstorm that washed out a doubleheader.
Macy spent some time with a friend here for the summer and enjoyed a thrift shop stop with her dad. Peg stopped over for coffee and I heard from my mom.
By all accounts, it was a more typical summer day, a June 29 that I could savor and appreciate and be thoroughly grateful.
Even more so given what happened in the last 12 months.
Here’s to many more.
