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<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false">That was a special memory and a special conference. I knew no one except for Dennis when I went to my first SLA in Lawrence. I showered at his dorm room at KU after arriving by Amtrak and Lyft at 7 a.m., then walked with him across campus with him assuring me as he had for weeks ahead of time how friendly and fun SLA conferences were. He was 100% right. </div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false">He was so excited to get a tour of Rim Rock Farm. Thanks, Phil, for making it so. I'm really going to miss him. </div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false">Myles</div><div><br></div>
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On Monday, May 4, 2020, 07:23:19 PM MST, Wedge, Philip C. via Sport_literature_association <sport_literature_association@lists.ku.edu> wrote:
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal">One of my fondest memories of the SLA conference in Lawrence was getting to take Dennis and Angie north of Lawrence to the KU cross-country course, Rimrock, so Dennis could see “Billy Mills Hill,” one of the more famous steep climbs in
collegiate cross-country course lore. And Dennis, Angie and Myles Schrag raced each other partway up!</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal">Phil</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><b>From:</b> Sport_literature_association <sport_literature_association-bounces@lists.ku.edu>
<b>On Behalf Of </b>Duncan Jamieson via Sport_literature_association<br clear="none">
<b>Sent:</b> Monday, May 4, 2020 9:12 PM<br clear="none">
<b>To:</b> joyced1001@cs.com; SPORT_LITERATURE_ASSOCIATION <sport_literature_association@lists.ku.edu><br clear="none">
<b>Subject:</b> Re: [ARETE] Dennis Gildea</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal">I don’t know what to say. I have the fondest memories of Dennis. He was a bulwark in SLA. I’m going to miss him</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:12.0pt;">Duncan</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal">Sent from my iPhone</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:12.0pt;">On May 4, 2020, at 9:37 PM, joyced1001--- via Sport_literature_association <<a shape="rect" href="mailto:sport_literature_association@lists.ku.edu" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">sport_literature_association@lists.ku.edu</a>> wrote:</p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;background:white;">Sadly, we have lost another friend, companion, and SLA member. The tribute below is from his colleague and friend, Rick Paar.</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;background:white;">--------------------------------------------------------</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;background:white;">Dennis Gildea died yesterday morning, May 3, 2020, after a ten month duel with glioblastoma. I’ve never met anyone like him. I never will. </span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:serif;color:black;">
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">Dennis had an office in the English Department across the street from mine in the Psychology Department. My building was a cavern; a
repurposed warehouse leftover the Springfield Electric Company with windows that you’d find in any county jail. His building was an old college infirmary that had<span class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624"> nooks and crannies,</span> stairs that creaked, and giant windows
overlooking the college baseball field that I’m pretty sure Dennis never looked out of because the guy just hated baseball. Hating baseball? You’re a sports writer? “Boring.”</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">I’m not sure when or how Dennis and I first became friends. His version was that long ago I said something snarky in a faculty meeting
when we all were arguing about the curriculum, primarily Great Books. Apparently I said that maybe we ought to lower our expectations and just shoot for Good Books. After that, I began my almost daily treks across the street to hang out at his office overlooking
left field. One day I saw a bunch of Chip Hilton books on his desk. “I’m working on something.” A book? “Yep.” Chip Hilton stories were all I read as a kid. Biggie, Soapy, Speed, Fireball, all of them, and Dennis is writing a book about these guys? And the
guy who wrote all of it? Clair Bee. I was hooked.</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">Soon after Ed Sims, a longtime SLA member and a good friend of both of ours, died Dennis asked if I wanted to take Ed’s place and go
with him to Williamsport for the SLA meeting. We agreed to meet in Milford, PA and that I’d follow him to the conference. I think I was trying to show off, and asked him if he he’d ever heard of Charles Sanders Peirce (and that’s the correct spelling) and
he said, “Sure, lived right on Route 209.” First of all, outside of dilettantes (me) who fancy themselves smart in areas not their own, who the hell has heard of Peirce? But Dennis knew all about the guy. Then again Dennis knew everyone who ever lived in Pennsylvania,
which seemed to be the case once we got into Williamsport and took a walk downtown. How is it possible for you to know all these people? “I was a sports writer. Covered a lot of territory.” And so it goes. Dennis knew a lot of people and Dennis knew a lot
of things because Dennis paid attention to people and people wanted to tell him stories. He was also wicked smart.</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">I think he and I went to four or five SLA meetings together. I was his underling when we had one at Springfield College a few years ago.
He was a breeze to work with and came up with my all-time favorite SLA t-shirt — the one with old time footballers running out of the SC Triangle. But my most favorite SLA meeting was the one at East Tennessee. We drove from Springfield to Johnson City, twelve
hours nonstop, and just shy of 800 miles. Dennis was close to having a cataract surgery on his left eye, and I was in the midst of a long struggle with double vision in my right eye, so between us we had two good working eyes. Fortunately I could see one way
and he could see the other. “We only need two eyes, right?” Right. We laughed all day. It was one hell of a trip.</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">Then there was Bob, the Religion and Philosophy professor at SC. Bob had some friends but not many. Dennis was one of them. When Bob
retired seven or eight years ago he sort of slinked away to his house about an hour and a half south of Dennis’ house. It would have been easy to do what nearly everyone does when someone retires: think about them for awhile, wonder how they are, think “I
really ought to call,” put it off, and lose touch completely. Which is what almost happened to Bob except that Dennis was his friend. As Bob was slowly slipping into the abyss of dementia, Dennis would regularly organize a lunch with Bob and his wife and he
and three or four of us would gather, eat, drink a beer or two, tell the same stories about work, and do it all over again the next month. That’s a good thing you do with Bob, I’d say. “Aw … you want another beer?” </span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">This past fall, the Sports Journalism Program at Springfield College held an anniversary celebration, something like 20 years or so.
It was an all day affair that finished with a tribute to Dennis. Students from over the years wrote and told stories about him. And of course Dennis wasn’t there. “Nah. I hate that stuff.” I went. Kid after kid, some more recent, some from years before, spoke
about what a hell of a good teacher he was, what a slyly funny man he was, what a smart man he was, how he touched their lives with a single comment, how he supported the underdog, how he made a difference. I wished Dennis could have seen it. I’m glad I did.
I miss him. He was my friend. I’m glad he was.</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">___________________</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">Comments from others:</span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">That is very sad to hear! What a gentleman he was! Phil Wedge</span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal" style="background:white;"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:sans-serif;color:black;">My heart hurts. Terrible, terrible news. Hugs to you all. Angie Abdou</span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Sans;color:black;background:white;">Joyce Duncan</span></b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:serif;color:black;"></span></p>
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<p class="ydp310b6c65yiv5217761624MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:serif;color:black;">Dr. Joyce Duncan<br clear="none">
Faculty, ETSU, Ret.<br clear="none">
Managing Editor, Sport Literature Association<br clear="none">
Box 70270 ETSU, Johnson City, TN 37614<br clear="none">
423-202-0937</span></p>
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