Realized Losses

Much has been made about the accounting distinction between "realized" and "unrealized" losses during the current financial crisis, particularly in how it relates to the holdings of US financial institutions. Today, I will digress to talk about a couple of truly realized losses this world has recently experienced.

Al Ortolani was the head trainer at Pittsburg State University, my alma mater. While I was in college, one of my many majors was health and recreation, and that afforded me the opportunity to take Al's training class. The man was a perfectionist, but always available to his students, and he had a quick wit. He was old-school, something I've grown to admire.

So good at his craft was Al that he was selected to be the trainer for the US Olympic swim team on several occasions, and also worked with the Pan Am games and other international events. He even had a gold medal to show for his Olympic efforts.

Al was also PSU's first baseball coach, and his teams won two conference titles. The PSU baseball field is named for him, and Al coached the team's present coach. As recently as last year, at a spry 79 years of age, Al would sit in the dugout with the team, regaling the lads with stories of games and seasons past.

Al also roamed the sidelines of PSU football games, walking up and down the field to follow the action, carrying one of those little can/stool combinations, and unfolding it to have a seat and watch the game. Last year, my daughter and I had were on the sidelines, and my daughter was snapping pictures for her high school photography class. We were near the south goal line, watching the action come our way, when up walked Al. He unfolded his stool and sat nearby.

He then struck up a conversation with my daughter, as though he'd known her all her life. He talked about what a great day it was, and how if she positioned herself just so she could get a great shot of the unfolding play. After he walked away, I told her who he was, and she realized that his son, Al Jr., is an English teacher at her high school. He's one of the best-liked teachers there - no surprise, given the tree that apple fell from. Al's friendliness was among the many little things that has made my daughter so comfortable with the PSU environment that she's decided to follow her old man's footsteps next year and attend there.

Al passed from this world last week, at the age of 80. He was loved by all who knew him, and he'll be missed. But if an angel sprains an ankle in heaven, he or she will be well taken care of.

John Dallam was a member of my church. After retiring from a career in engineering and construction, John began our Habitat for Humanity ministry. He's responsible for some 90 or so homes that have been built in the Kansas City metro. He also served as an usher and a greeter, and counted the weekly offering.

After John's health prevented him from continuing to lead the Habitat effort, he awakened early one morning, convinced he heard God speak to him. What did God say to this tireless one-man mission team?

"John, you're not doing enough."

So John developed a program to teach teens in the church the construction trade, a program that came to be known as Body Builders. Through it, he created dozens of young John Dallams to go out and do Kingdom work here on earth, making their community a better place for those less fortunate.

John will also be missed by those of us who knew him, as he passed last Sunday. But as one of our pastors noted, in John 14 Jesus says, "In my Father's house there are many rooms ... I go to prepare a place for you." Now, He has plenty of help in doing so.

Rest in peace, Al and John.