Christmas is near, which always reminds me of my mother’s decorated sugar cookies and milk, and Jesus’ birth, of course. Mom would leave a freshly baked cookie and small glass of milk on the coffee table for Santa. When my brother and I woke up Christmas morning, a bite would be taken from this cookie, with the milk long gone.
Jim always made it a point to polish the cookie off, mostly because I had and still have this thing about eating after someone else has touched things. Heaven only knows where Santa’s hands had been. Mom’s cookies were the greatest, but the longer they remained uneaten the harder they got.
I’ve come across some tough cookies in my life and I’m not talking about sweet ones. Steve Leffel was a co-worker at a grocery store in Eagle River, Alaska, and a WWII veteran. He’d been a British Commando during the war—and even at 60—wasn’t a person you’d want to get on the wrong side of. Not big in stature, Steve was solid as a rock.
I was eating lunch one day with a group of other adolescent workers when a beautiful young lady walked into the café. One of the box boys made a crude sexual remark about the gal, and before he’d finished his crusty statement, Steve Leffel’s hand reached out and slapped him silly upside the cheek.
Turns out the girl was Steve’s granddaughter. I’d never seen anyone move so fast and neither did the box boy. Undoubtedly, the young man was taught a lesson that day about verbally demeaning females and rightly so. Steve was a real gentleman in that sense and expected other guys to follow suit.
The Anchorage Times newspaper in the early 1970s reported that Steve and his son, Lance, were accosted by a trio of Alaska Railroad personnel in Healy, Alaska. Over the years I heard this story many times from various people and know it’s true.
The railroad men, big and burly, made a bad decision to pick a fight with the Leffels, ending up in a hospital with numerous lacerations and several broken bones afterwards.
Lance Leffel had been a US Army Green Beret having served in Vietnam before being discharged, and was no rookie where martial arts is concerned. Neither of the Leffel’s were bullies, and to meet them on the street you’d never know of their military training, as they never talked about it unless asked. Even then, they’d only say so much. Steve and Lance earn the title, “tough cookie” for their physical attributes.
Kurt Rogers is another tough cookie. I worked with Kurt during my tenure with the State of Alaska as a mechanic. Kurt was severely burned when a fuel tank exploded, with my friend crediting his survival to the Good Lord watching over him. A shop door was unlocked and the blast blew him outside the building. Had that garage door been locked as it often was he would’ve perished.
Rogers was burned over 70 percent of his body, with face and arms suffering the most damage. After countless painful skin grafts he eventually came back to work. Always having a sense of humor, Kurt often mentioned that he’d not win any more Mr. America titles.
I bestow the tough cookie award to him for his strength and determination to recover against impossible odds. His fighting skills were much different than Steve and Lance Leffels, yet just as significant.
John Ballard is a tough cookie. I worked alongside him here in Lake Havasu City for a good many years. Although he was several years older, I couldn’t keep pace. John would work from sunup to quitting time, and then head off to play several games of ping pong. He was like the Energizer Bunny. His work ethic and stamina were beyond reproach.
Me, on the other hand, I’d go to bed soon after eating knowing that come morning, John would be back at it eager for another day’s accomplishment. Unfortunately, mesothelioma took John way too early.
Bill Lowe is the final tough cookie out of five and he’s also a good friend of mine. I met Bill at East Anchorage High, where he was a standout athlete, especially in track and field. Bill set the Alaska high school record in 1972 at 12 foot – 9 inches. I believe this record still stands.
That same summer after graduating, Bill was mining for gold with another friend, Mike Kelly, on Gulch Creek near Hope, Alaska. Mike fell into the swift moving water and Bill jumped in to try and save him. Unfortunately, Mike Kelly hit his head on a rock and was knocked unconscious. Sadly, he drowned.
I was in Hope that day with another pal, Jeff Thimsen. We saw the ambulance and police cars and didn’t find out what happened until returning home. I’m told that accident bothered Bill the rest of his life and he rarely talked about it. I believe it played a big part in his ultimate life decision to become a believer in Jesus Christ. His wife’s death just a few years back from cancer might’ve also had something to do with it.
Throughout Bill’s life he worked many interesting jobs, early on, a bouncer at several rough and tumble nightclubs in Anchorage, Alaska. The forty ninth state was like the wild west during the Alaska pipeline years, with Bill saying that he incurred a fair number of fights trying to toss unruly patrons out of certain establishments.
Afterwards, he worked the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay and also on Amchitka Island in the Aleutian Chain—this after three atomic bombs had been detonated there. Bill believes that particular job is the one that permanently damaged both of his lungs, to the extent that he needed a double lung transplant some forty years later.
Bill underwent this risky procedure in 2018 at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, and just recently celebrated five years of success. Never one to back down or admit defeat, my friend reopened his antique store during this time, constructed a log cabin, and hoped to return to gold mining. He wasn’t going to let “anything” deter future goals. That was our East High motto: “Future Goals We Will Pursue – Senior Class Of ’72.”
His plans were to someday travel to Lake Havasu City with his son, William Jr., and visit his cousin, Kathy, and her husband, Dean, as well as stop by our place. Unfortunately, that’ll never happen as Bill unexpectedly passed away on November 15.
All of them believers, Steve, Lance, Kurt, John, and Bill, are now gone. These are some of the toughest cookies I’ve ever come in contact with. It’s reassuring to me in knowing that I’ll see them again in due time.
Hopefully, the same can be said for all of my friends and family!
I like to write junk... 