The Spin that preceded the win. Photographer unknown. 1985
It was twenty two years ago today. I had cancelled an offered ticket to the 500 from Tom Yorgan (my boss at The Lab; a company now defunct) because the night before Jenni had lost the plug and I had more pressing matters to attend too. Well, Jenni had more pressing matters to be sure. On Sunday the 26th Jenni's parents were in town hoping to meet someone very special. We were all at Washington Square Mall when a hard knock came. We rushed out of the shopping mega-plex (something nearly unheard of for Peggy Mason, or her daughter Jennifer for that matter) and in the process of getting into Peggy's car (which only had one opening rear door) Peggy slammed Jenni's right hand in the door, who's frame and seal she was using to help position her own overwhelmed frame into the seat. Jenni was screaming as Peggy got in up front. Bill and Peggy both thought it was the impending delivery causing the ruckus and I could not illuminate them through the din, and Peggy was simultaneously vocally urging Bill to get the show on the road. Being imprisoned by my inoperable excuse for a door I could neither get out or reach past the two-in-one occupant to her door handle to release Jenni. I had to wallow in feelings of uselessness until it could be made clear to Peggy; through her personal panic at the advent of her first grand-child and her first daughters labor (which she thought was imminent due to the hyper-vocal din from the back seat), that the uproar was due in large part to the fact the carpal extremities were imprisoned between nonmalleable metal surfaces. Eventually (probably only a matter of a dozen or so seconds in retrospect) the information was received and the situation was rectified. As we drove I held Jenni's purpling and fouled phalanges gently in my two hands (still with the feeling of uselessness, which I got used to in the weeks following the arrival). By the time Mason mobile made way to our apartment on Talbot Street across from the Herron School of Art, the institution of our introduction the delivery was less imminent, and the Doctor was called and given an update. We would wait. We waited until late Sunday NIght or early Memorial day morning then made our way to the hospital, they admitted that Jenni was pregnant and admitted her. After a check-in eternity I was brought to Jenni and began sitting next to her in the natural child birthing closet. This room was seven feet wide and ten long with warm and welcoming orange walls and a T.V. on a bracket in the upper corner. She started crushing my fingers with her previously trauma-ed hand through the early morning hours, the race, rain delayed was being delay broadcast but the sound was all but off and I was pre-occupied for much of the happenings, and watching my wedding ring being impact molded to the adjoining fingers when Jenni would feel a contraction. I did get to see the Danny Sullivan spin, a complete 360° on the track without hitting anything. Then came the decision to do an episiotomy, which meant going to a regular delivery/operating room and nurses and gown and mask for me and an epidural for Jenni. I remember the relief she felt soon after the needle was removed from her spinal column, I felt the relief in my left hand (the one she had been squeezing like clock work all day 10 or so hours every 5 minutes, then every 3 minutes , then every two, then...) after labor that started on Saturday, all day Sunday and 10 or 12 hours of intense labor in the hospital on Monday, there was relief and then joy.
The joy came just a little before 7:00 PM.

All conventional wisdom, and the family prognostication had prepared us for the arrival of a son, who was going to be known as Nigel, so when I looked down at my daughter for the first time we were undecided on her name (we had Madelyn and Meredith picked out for the impossible possibility that all the soothsayers were sans sooth on the disposition of this child's gender. Jenni decided that I had to decide on the name. Then there was the removal of mucus and meconium and the cleaning of the child, then I was handed this most marvelous package and with tears in my eyes said to Jenni, "This is Meredith." I have very similar tears in my eyes now as I recall the moment. I'm sure Meredith communicated something to me that moment and there was never anybody else there except Meredith Anne, regardless of what anybody thought, there never could have been.

Happy Birthday to Meredith
The Joy of My Life.
Photographs Chuck Pace © 1985
Chuck Pace © 2007
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p.s. It wasn't until Wednesday at work that I learned that Danny Sullivan had gone on to win from the spin.