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Archive for the ‘In Memorium’ Category

CHS grad Natalie (Slater) Maneval congratulates her college softball coach, Denny Zylstra, for being inducted into the Coupeville Sports Hall o’ Fame in 2015. (Photo courtesy Maneval)

One of the true legends of Wolf Nation has passed away, but his memory and impact will last forever.

Denny Zylstra, a 1958 graduate of Coupeville High School, was a three-sport star for the Wolves (football, basketball, baseball) who continued as an active athlete into his 40’s.

He played competitive football until he was 37, basketball until he was 45, and never really gave up softball.

Zylstra made his diamond debut when he was just eight years old, and played for an adult team during his high school days.

Over the years, he played softball in Japan, the Philippines, Taiwan, Spain, Italy and across America.

This included playing in state tournaments in Virginia, California and Washington, and sponsoring and pitching one of his teams to second-place at state when he was a 41-year-old whippersnapper.

When he wasn’t playing, Zylstra and wife Marcia, his high school sweetheart, were huge Coupeville High School sports fans, attending numerous games. The duo also ran the softball concession stand.

He also took the lessons learned as a player, and used them to teach the next generations.

Following in the footsteps of Mert Waller, his high school coach, and mentor, Zylstra coached multiple sports over a 50-year span, with many of those seasons here on Whidbey.

After a stint in the Navy, Zylstra began his coaching career in Virginia Beach, running a Little League team.

From there, he moved into softball, with his first stint on Whidbey coming from 1975-1985, when he coached junior (13-15) teams.

Zylstra bounced between the college and high school game in later years, working as a coach for Skagit Valley College (1986-1997, 2004-2008), Oak Harbor High School (1999-2002) and, in his final stop, back at his alma mater.

Returning to CHS in 2009, he was head coach for two seasons, and then an assistant up through his 50th and final campaign in 2012.

Mimi (Iverson) Johnson and Natalie (Slater) Maneval were Coupeville grads who played for Zylstra at Skagit Valley College, and both remember him fondly.

Denny was such a bright light everywhere he went,” Johnson said. “He had a smile and laugh that was infectious.

“His love for his players, the game, and coaching was inspiring,” she added. “I know his legacy is huge!! He will be greatly missed.”

That’s a sentiment shared by Maneval.

“He was one of the kindest men and had a very infectious smile and laugh,” she said. “I was blessed years ago to see him being inducted into the coaches hall of fame.

Denny, you will be missed by so many and you will always leave a huge impact on so many of us softball players!”

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Monte Parker (Photo property of Whidbey News-Times)

She was a rascal.

Perpetually puffing away on a cigarette, smoke curling from beneath her winter jacket, one eyebrow cocked, offering free chocolate and a swift kick to the ass in equal measure, Monte Parker wasn’t your sweet ol’ granny.

The undisputed Godmother of the North Whidbey Help House, she had a thousand tales to tell, only a few of which were remotely PG-rated.

An old-school pool hall hustler who knew where all the metaphorical bodies were buried (because she put most of them there herself), she could be equal parts sassy, wicked and sweet-natured.

She was already a legend at the Help House when I first arrived.

Camped out in front of the building, waiting for the van to arrive with that day’s donations from area grocery stores, Monte cut an imposing figure, while spending most of her time sitting down.

By the time I met her, she was using a walker, and she would use it to block off the main parking spot, so the van would have a spot to alight upon its return.

Time and again, newbies and lazy butts alike would try to buffalo her, pulling their cars half into the slot, as if that would cause her to move.

They didn’t know Monte very well.

First came the gaze, then the sigh, a little bit of “You’re gonna have to move, darlin’,” quickly followed by “Yes, jagoff, I’m talkin’ to you,” if you were stupid enough to get mouthy with her.

Then the walker started to lurch forward, a spray of ash preceding her, an enforcer whose iron spirit made up for whatever psychical strength she might have lost.

Treat her nicely, speak to her with respect, listen to her stories, give her a hug, and it was as if she had known you all her life.

Monte knew everyone, those who worked or volunteered and those who used the Help House for aid (at various times, I have been on both sides), and she treated you in the manner you earned.

Be mean, be ungrateful, be a “freakin’ jagoff,” and she would cut you a million ways, each sarcasm-tipped word slicing through the cloud of cigarette smoke and landing like an uppercut to the jaw.

But when Monte liked you (and she liked me from day one), she was your staunchest defender, your most loyal companion, your best entertainment.

Tales of Hawaii, of pool hall hustling, of being a cop’s kid in a small town, liberally spiced with a wicked sense of humor, and, underneath it, a genuine, if sometimes carefully hidden, sweetness.

I spent several years being a semi-regular presence at the Help House, a client who later rode the delivery truck as a volunteer.

During that time, I saw the best and worst of lives touched by need.

I witnessed great sacrifice, big moments and small gestures as people found, or retained, a bit of humanity, by helping others.

And I saw my share of mental illness, greed and grasping, of people unwilling or, far more often, unable, to get past the hardships which are destroying them piece by piece.

Live long enough in the world of a daily food bank, and the lessons once learned while working in a liquor store are reinforced.

Everyone, myself included, has a story.

Some are tragic, some are scary, and trust is something you really, really want to be careful about handing out.

Monte cut through all the crap.

She gave everyone a shot, but she could read your soul and she was unrelenting. Burn her, and she would never forget. Ever.

Bring a smile to her face, and she was yours forever.

While I still pop in to the Help House here and there, my time of being there on almost a daily basis came to an end about the same time Monte’s did.

Her health, which was never great, got much worse and she ended up in a care facility in Anacortes.

I would go to visit her (someone had to sneak in the candy the doctors were naive enough to believe they could prevent her from having), and it was, frankly, surreal.

Monte spent much of that time camped out in the same room my aunt Loni occupied a few years before.

The two shared a lot in common, from their ability to absolutely, positively cheese off a lot of people, to their ability to spin a yarn or three hundred – some of which might actually have been true.

She was in a lot of pain at that point, thanks to major damage to her back, something doctors misdiagnosed for quite awhile (“They’re idiots, dear, freakin’ jagoffs,” was Monte’s assessment).

She was frustrated at being restricted to a small room, unable to bounce from the Help House to the local bar (where she enjoyed the soup, having given up “the hooch” from her earlier days) to Wal-Mart.

But her sense of humor and her utter willingness to be a needle puncturing pompous people, was intact.

One of the final times I saw her she was camped atop her bed, sharing space with the care facility cat, who had adopted her, snipping away with a pair of scissors, working on a “top-secret” art project.

After making sure I had snuck in the right kind of candy, and that it was properly hidden, she unfolded the paper, revealing the word she had so carefully cut out.

It was a surprise gift for a nurse who she both liked and was ticked at for making too much noise outside her room the night before.

The paper unfurled, and, a huge grin creeping across her face, Monte held up the art work, one word illuminated by the late afternoon sun.

FUCKNUT.

And then Monte laughed and laughed and laughed some more, a pistol to the end.

 

The North Whidbey Help House (1091 SE Hathaway in Oak Harbor) is hosting a gathering to remember Monte 10 AM Saturday, Jan. 13, 2018. Some of the stories may even be PG-rated.

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Jon Diem heads to the hoop while playing for Oak Harbor High School. (Photos courtesy Sherry Roberts)

   Jon Diem heads to the hoop while playing for Oak Harbor High School. (Photos courtesy Sherry Roberts)

The basketball slides along the young boy’s fingertips for a moment, and then, in one smooth motion, it arcs skyward.

The young boy holds his breath, the ball hits nothing but the bottom of the net, and the young boy exhales, a superstar already on the cracked cement court.

And then the young boy is a young man, and now he’s wearing his school’s uniform, but the look in his eyes, the smile on his face, the feeling of the ball slipping off his fingertips, are all the same.

This time, when the ball hits the bottom of the net, a referee’s hands shoot skyward, the young man’s friends, family and classmates go crazy and the young man is a superstar again, but in a different world.

And then the young man is a grown man, living in the real world, helping nurture the daughter who will continue to carry his name forward, and he is a superstar still.

One day, the grown man, who has endured much hardship in his life, but has remained, against all odds, a kind, caring soul described as “the most talented and humble athlete I have ever known,” leaves our world, too soon.

The sound of the basketball rhythmically hitting the court, the baseball thunking into his mitt, fades, but his memory does not.

For his family, and his friends — which included everyone he played with and against — Jon Diem will always be here.

Diem, who passed away just weeks shy of his 45th birthday, leaves behind seven siblings — brothers David, Michael and Robert and sisters Mary, Cathie, Nancy and Shawn — his father Charles and his beloved daughter Lexie.

Diem and daughter

Jon and daughter Lexie.

He was preceded in death by his mother, Sara, and will be laid to rest next to her at Coupeville’s Sunnyside Cemetery.

From the moment he popped into the world Feb. 26, 1972, Jon brought a light with him.

One of the most gifted athletes Coupeville has ever seen, he moved up to the big city (Oak Harbor) for high school.

A standout basketball and baseball player while wearing the purple and gold Wildcat uniforms, Diem graduated with the OHHS Class of 1991.

On the hard-court, Jon was a lights-out shooter from long range, a three-ball king in short shorts who lit up the scoreboards while running alongside teammates such as Tony Midyette, Manny Martucci, Pat Herms and Trig Johnson.

Many of the first games I covered for the Whidbey News-Times, in my fledgling journalism career, involved watching Diem drop bombs from all angles against teams like Marysville-Pilchuck or Shorewood.

There wasn’t a spot on the floor on which he didn’t feel confident launching a trey, and he hit an astonishing number of his efforts.

On the baseball field, he was a two-way threat, adept with the bat and his glove while roaming the infield for the ‘Cats.

baseball

Diem comes in hot during his diamond days.

Jon played baseball at OHHS from 1988-1991 and was the starting second baseman and cleanup hitter on the Wildcat team that placed second at the 3A state tourney in 1990.

“The thing I remember most about Jon after all these years was his gentleness,” said former longtime OHHS baseball coach Jim Waller. “Teenage boys probably don’t want to be called sweet, but that is the best way to describe him.

“He was quiet and thoughtful, selfless and caring. Although he was shy around the coaching staff, he liked to laugh and would play practical jokes on his teammates.”

As an athlete, Diem had raw talent for days, but it was his work ethic which caught his coach’s attention.

“He was a graceful athlete, one of those players who moved so fluidly that it appeared sports came easily to them,” Waller said. “Yes, he had natural talent, but his success wasn’t solely from his innate ability but from his hard work and dedication to the game.

“He had the qualities all coaches want in an athlete — a strong work ethic, a willingness to put the team first, a willingness to be coached, an ability to laugh and laugh at himself, a hunger to win, a respect for his opponents,” he added. “And, more importantly, those qualities are a mark of a good person as well as a high-character athlete.”

In the days after Jon’s passing, friends and former teammates poured out their love for him on Facebook, and their words paint a picture of a gifted athlete who was a better person.

Of a man who ultimately cared as much, or more, about others accomplishments as his own.

“He was such a stud,” wrote former CHS athletic star Ben Biskovich, who grew up alongside Diem in Coupeville. “Always the best athlete on the field and always so humble.

“When we were picking teams, I always wanted to be on his team.”

That was a thought echoed by Jason LaMont, whose own athletic experiences landed on a different side of the spectrum from Biskovich.

“He (Jon) always treated everyone nice, even me, who sucked at sports,” LaMont said. “Even as a kid, he was building people up.”

For Chris Potts, who stayed in contact with Diem long after high school, it was Diem’s approach to life, and not just sports, which made him so memorable.

“He was an amazing soul, with a humble confidence,” Potts said. “A happy-go-lucky approach to life.

“An amazing sense of humor that was punctuated by a crooked grin and a laugh that invited everyone to join in,” he added. “He had a heart just a chosen few are given in this life.”

Jon’s ability to be the best athlete in the room, or on the field, and yet never make anyone feel like he was lording it over them, carried on after his prep athletic career had ended.

He continued to play in his adult years, making new friends every step of the way.

“Playing together as an adult when it was for the pure love of the game and not the pressures of school, but back to the feeling of being a kid for a few hours,” Steve Van Rensum said.

“Rest easy old friend, teammate and brother. Sit fastball and don’t get cheated.”

In the distance, you can hear it, a soft sound at first that grows with each heartbeat.

The young boy twirls the basketball on his fingertip, then lets it drop into his palm. His breath slips out in a ragged burst and the ball slides off his hands, arcing skyward.

A soft bang as it hits the backboard, a softer swish as it drops through the hoop.

The young boy continues to shoot long after the sky has turned from afternoon into early evening.

It is his escape. It is his love.

The ball drops through the hoop, again and again, and he never stops shooting.

Tonight, and every night, Jon Diem lives on, out there on that court or diamond, in all of our memories.

Jon Diem (1972-2017)

Jon Diem (1972-2017)

A service for Jon Diem will be held at 11 AM Friday, Feb. 3 at Saint Augustine’s Catholic Church in Oak Harbor. It will be followed by a graveside burial at Sunnyside Cemetery in Coupeville.

In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to Boeing Employee Credit Union.

A college fund has been set up for Jon’s daughter, Lexi Diem. It’s at Bank of America Acct: Lexie Diem college fund; routing #: 125000024; account #: 138122330559.

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I was only allowed one exclamation point in those days, so I went really BIG with the headline. I know how to play this game.

   I was only allowed one exclamation point in those days, so I went really BIG with the main headline. I know how to play this game. (David Svien photo)

(John Fisken photo)

   Wildcat grapplers (l to r) Sam Zook, Nick Dugin and Garrett Stahl help Myrna Linsenmayer honor her husband, Rich, Thursday. (John Fisken photo)

Rich Linsenmayer scared me, at least a bit.

Back in the olden days, when I was Sports Editor at the Whidbey News-Times from 1992-1994, Linsenmayer was in the latter stages of an epic career as head wrestling coach at Oak Harbor High School.

He guided the Wildcats from 1969 until his retirement in 1998, and, during my time, coached OHHS to a second-place showing in 3A at the ’93 state tourney.

That stood as the biggest team accomplishment in school history until Oak Harbor shocked the world and won a 4A state football title in 2006.

I remember Linsenmayer, who passed away at age 78 Dec. 26 and was honored before Thursday’s home match with Arlington, as a giant of a man.

Honestly, we might have been the same height. I might have been taller. Memories get hazy.

But I always remember (metaphorically, at least) looking up at him when he spoke.

A true old school coach, he was a man of few words in interviews, though he always came through with any and all info I needed.

He wasn’t chatty like fellow ‘Cat coaches Jeff Stone or John Matzen, or the man who (against his will) became my mentor — OHHS journalism teacher/state baseball Hall of Fame guru Jim Waller.

I’m sure Linsenmayer looked at me, a 21-year-old idiot who completely skipped college and would have been dropping exclamation points in my headlines (if only the WNT would have let me!!) and sighed deeply from time to time.

But he never dodged a question. Always explained even the simplest wrestling thing to me, even if it was for the seventy-second time.

And remember, this was before email and cell phones took off, so he could have dodged me far, far easier back when phone calls from the office and in-person badgering was the currency of the day.

But he didn’t, even faithfully calling me late on a Saturday night (from a pay phone), as the world hung on whether the Wildcats would hold off Mead for a team title.

In true Linsenmayer fashion, his tone betrayed nothing.

I know, deep inside, he took great pride in his wrestlers and their accomplishments.

But when he spoke to the ink-stained wretches, he presented wins and losses in virtually the same light — as an occasion for his guys to learn valuable life lessons.

He never got overly giddy when his squad was flying high (at least in public) and never dipped too far into despair when they were struggling.

Linsenmayer had seen it all on the mat, both as a wrestler and a coach, and he exuded a quiet confidence, a sereneness and calmness that even, for a bit, got me to simmer down.

For a moment or two, at least.

Over the last 25 years, I’ve written a lot of words (some better than others) about high school sports on Whidbey Island, and dealt with a lot of coaches.

Rich Linsenmayer is up there on my personal Mount Rushmore.

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A sensational athlete and a better person.

   Marlene Grasser with her athletic successor, great niece Mia. (Photo courtesy Ashley Heilig)

The start of a new year will kick off with a celebration of the life and legacy of Marlene Grasser.

One of the most accomplished, beloved athletes in Coupeville High School history, the two-time Female Athlete of the Year passed away at 46 last week after a valiant two-year battle with cancer.

A 1987 CHS grad, Grasser was a star in four sports — volleyball, basketball, softball and track — who went on to be a successful college volleyball player.

Her impact went far beyond what she accomplished on the athletic field, however, and her words continue to ring true for current Wolf athletes.

For more on that, pop over to:

https://coupevillesports.com/2015/12/06/embrace-marlene-grassers-legacy-every-day/

The family has arranged for graveside services at 1 PM Sat., Jan. 2, at Sunnyside Cemetery (90 Cemetery Rd., off of S. Sherman) in Coupeville.

That will be followed by a gathering of love, sharing and memories at 2 PM in the commons at Coupeville High School (501 S. Main).

Dress is casual. Marlene was a very devoted Seahawks fan, and the family encourages attendees to wear their favorite sports attire in her memory.

Donations may be made to:

Marlene Grasser Benevolent Fund
BECU (Boeing Employee Credit Union) Financial Institution
Routing 325081403
Account 3602350089
13910 NE Mill Plaza
Woodinville, WA 98072

If you would like to send flowers, the family asks you to use Fresh Flower Express (7 S. Main/678-8010) in Coupeville.

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