125656656_web1_Picnic

Food, music translate to good time by the river

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WILKES-BARRE &mdash; Two of the best people I know celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary Saturday.
				Leon and Susan Zimolzak of Waterton Hill Road in Shickshinny &mdash; or parts thereabouts &mdash; were high school sweethearts and they remain as much in love today as they have always been.
				They are the parents of Erica (Zimolzak) Coe and her husband, Charles, and the late Seth Zimolzak. They are the proud grandparents of London Synclair Coe.
				I met Lon and Sue through my affiliation with the Make-A-Wish Foundation of Northeastern Pennsylvania. Their son, Seth, was a Wish Kid and I got to know him well.
				The story of Seth has been well-documented in this space over the years.
				On Sept, 6, 1999, Seth died. He was 18. He was my buddy. His parents and I remain close today. I&rsquo;ll never forget that kid and all the fun we had. He is present in my life every day.
				Seth spoke at a dinner in 1999, about eight months prior to his death.
				&ldquo;After having to deal with cancer for three years, I have learned a great deal of things,&rdquo; Seth told the crowd. &ldquo;But the most important thing I&rsquo;ve learned is the value of time. Treasure every moment that you have. And treasure it more because you shared your time with someone special; special enough to spend your time on. And remember that time waits for no one.&rdquo;
				Seth and I golfed, we went to events like the Miss UNICO pageant &mdash; where Seth got six of the contestants phone numbers &mdash; and he always provided sunshine on the darkest of days.
				Seth was in New York for treatment in early spring of 1999 &mdash; the year he was graduating high school. He and his mom were walking by a store and and a pair of orange shoes in the window caught Seth&rsquo;s eye. He wanted to wear those orange suede shoes to his high school graduation on June 6, 1999.
				His mom bought the shoes, but Seth would be told by school officials that he had to wear black or brown shoes to graduation. Thanks to some quick-thinking friends, though, Seth got to wear those orange suede shoes.
				As he walked into the stadium at Northwest Area &mdash; last in line &mdash; Seth&rsquo;s friends called him over to a garbage container where they had hidden the shoes.
				He slipped them on and walked proudly across the stage to accept his diploma wearing those orange suede shoes.
				Two months later, Seth was dressed in a tuxedo, waiting to be interviewed on TV during the Make-A-Wish of NEPA annual telethon. He called me over and told me he had something for me.
				He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope containing $1,647 &mdash; his graduation money.
				&ldquo;Give this to the kids,&rdquo; he told me. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t need it where I&rsquo;m going.&rdquo;
				Seth was very symptomatic at that point. He knew his time was running out. He was too weak to walk up to the stage to present the check, so he asked me to do it.
				Seth died a month later &mdash; on Sept. 6, 1999.
				I gave the eulogy at his funeral. After the service, his parents gave me those orange shoes. I wear them whenever I help a local charity. I tell the story of Seth and ask for donations.
				The shoes &mdash; and the story of Seth &mdash; never fail.
				Seth was an exceptional kid. He would be 39.
				When one of Seth&rsquo;s longtime friends got married,there was no designated best man at the wedding. The groom said the only best man he could have had was Seth.
				There are many Seth stories of how this kid touched so many lives. He truly was a remarkable young man and I often wonder where he would have gone in life &mdash; to exceptional heights, I am sure.
				And as Seth&rsquo;s parents &mdash; my dear friends &mdash; celebrate their 50th anniversary, there remains a huge hole in their hearts and in the hearts of all who knew Seth.
				But Seth&rsquo;s all-too-brief life is testament to his parents. The same can be said for their daughter and granddaughter.
				I used to own a Corvette that I always let Seth drive. The car had two settings for the driver&rsquo;s seat &mdash; one was programmed for me and the other for Seth.
				After Seth died, I re-programmed the settings &mdash; both for me. However, time and time again, the seat that had been programmed for Seth would always return to Seth&rsquo;s settings. No matter how many times the car was taken to the dealership to have the problem looked at, or the seat was reset, it continued to return to Seth&rsquo;s setting.
				The point is that Seth is still around. His parents agree. An Elmo doll in Seth&rsquo;s room still occassionally &ldquo;talks&rdquo; &mdash; Lon and Sue believe it&rsquo;s Seth letting them know he&rsquo;s OK.
				Time to put the orange shoes on and head to Mocanaqua to visit Seth&rsquo;s gravesite.
				Like everyone who knew him, I miss that kid.
				I&rsquo;ll wear my orange shoes tomorrow.

Beyond the Byline: A bittersweet celebration of 2 great people