A Life of Words

I received the most heartbreaking of news Monday evening. Paul Sweitzer, whom I’ve been friends with since I was 5 years old in first grade at St. Matthew Lutheran School in Houston, passed away earlier in the day after suffering a cardiac event while mowing his yard in College Station. Quinton, one of Paul’s three adult sons, called to let me know. I was so thankful he did, considering we’ve met only once.

This one is really, really tough. It’s eerily reminiscent of when I lost my best friend Doug in October 2002 – like Paul, he had a cardiac episode while doing yardwork. Paul would’ve turned 64 on the 24th of this month.

In a wonderful school and a close-knit classroom of 1960s little kids, Paul and I were the best of friends. He was soft-spoken, gracious, smart and shy – all qualities I feel like we shared. But we shared something else that became an unbreakable lifelong bond – we both loved the Houston Astros.

Every night in our homes during baseball season, Paul and I listened to the Astros – perennial losers though they were – on the radio. Every morning at school, we’d talk about the previous night’s game. Our good friend John Reed was often in on those conversations, and later Perry Pepperell. We were infatuated with baseball and, especially, our team.

My family lived just 5 miles from the Astrodome, and I was lucky that before I made it to age 10 and we moved out of Houston, we attended a decent number of games, giving my brother Isaac and me plenty of chances to see our heroes in person. Paul didn’t live as close to the Dome, but he went to his share of games too.

After my family moved north of the city to Conroe halfway through sixth grade when I was 10, I sadly lost touch with Paul. After eighth grade, his family moved to LaGrange in Central Texas and we had almost no contact. Once he went to the University of Texas and I went to Texas A&M, we lost all contact. We didn’t see each other again until about 2010, although it wasn’t like we hadn’t been wondering about each other. I was overjoyed when we reconnected.

Paul had dealt with his share of health problems over the past 10-plus years, starting when he suffered a stroke while having major heart surgery. But he was always upbeat and his faith was strong, so he kept a positive outlook. He also was grateful for his family – his wife Susan, a teacher, his sons Quinton, Brad and Thomas, and his grandchildren (I think he and Susan have five or six between Quinton and Brad).

I’ve had a lot of highlights in my life, and one of them involves Paul. Despite his affinity for the Astros, he had never been to one of the team’s playoff games – until last year. My college friend Gerald had two extra tickets to Game 1 of the ALDS against Minnesota, and he offered them to me and our A&M buddy Bobby, but he was going to be out of town.

So I accepted Gerald’s offer and asked Paul if he’d like to join me for the game. I’ll always cherish that he was able to go, the great time we had – and that our Astros defeated the Twins 6-4 on the way to a 3-1 series win. For an Astros fan as huge as Paul was, he should’ve been able to attend more playoff games during this golden era the team has been in dating to 2017.

In recent years, Paul and I texted most days, especially during baseball season. In our last texts Sunday night, he asked if I planned to attend any of the Astros-Rangers games in Arlington this week (I told him I’m going Tuesday night). I also told him the sad news I’d learned about the recent passing of the Rev. Norman Finke, a teacher and principal from our days at St. Matthew.

I’m gonna miss you so much, Paul. Hope you have great seats to watch the Astros from heaven. LYLAB ❤🙏