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GETTING THE MOST
OUT OF LIFE
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An old friend of mine died a few weeks ago. And when I say old,
I mean old. Ed Osgood was 103 when he passed peacefully in his sleep on May
18th.
I'll be 68 later this month. 103-68 equals 35. That's 35 more
years for me to accomplish what Ed Osgood did in his 103 years. For a number
of reasons, I don't stand a chance.
His obituary appeared in Sunday's San Francisco Chronicle. It
should have filled at least half a page, but instead it was only one
paragraph. His widow simply couldn't afford the thousands and thousands of
dollars it would cost to list his achievements. So understandable, and so
unfair.
I never used to read the obituaries, but now I pick one or two
to glance through. First I check the dates, hoping the deceased is older
than me. Then I think about how my dad always wanted his obituary to
begin: "Much to his surprise, Arthur Hoppe died
yesterday." Always makes me chuckle.
Then I read about someone's life. Some are simple, many are long and
complex, with a variety of accomplishments. Those are the ones that can make
us feel unworthy, that we should have done more. But that's okay. It's good
for the soul.
Ed's life story should stir any soul. I'll tell as much as I
can in my limited space, because I think he deserves the accolades. And best
of all, I'll happily tell it for free.
Edgar de Pue Neville Osgood was born in San Francisco on Christmas
day, 1918. His father, Jack Neville, was the famous golf architect who
designed Pebble Beach, assuring Ed reduced green fees all his life.
Unfortunately, Ed preferred tennis.
After his parents divorced, Ed spent his youth in Europe, becoming
fluent in French and Italian before returning to San Francisco at the age of
16. Too cool for school, he worked the 500 acre family farm in Woodland,
California alongside migrant workers. It was there that he developed a
lifelong desire to serve the underprivileged.
But first there was World War II. He joined the Navy and flew
over 100 missions as a navigator in B24 bombers from 1941-1945, stationed at
various times in the South Pacific, England and Morocco. He left the Navy
with the rank of Lieutenant Commander.
Back in San Francisco at the age of 26, he spent the next 57 years
owning and operating various warehouse facilities, including the Foreign
Trade Zone on the Embarcadero. But that pales in comparison to his civic
duties.
He was the consummate volunteer. The list of positions he held
and awards he received for his community service is ridiculously long. A
major example: in 1963 he was appointed by Mayor Jack Shelley to be the
founding Chairman of the San Francisco Human Rights Commission.
He detested discrimination of any kind and lived his life fighting to
erase any semblance of it. Another of many examples: he co-founded Friends
for Israel in 1983, a non-Jewish group fighting anti-Semitism. And he did so
much more. He walked the walk.
He also had a lifelong love affair with tennis. He was a co-founder
of the Youth Tennis Foundation (now Youth Tennis Advantage), helping
disadvantaged children discover the game. Over 300,000 inner-city youngsters
have benefitted over the years.
And he played a mean tennis game to boot. In fact, he was #1 in the
world in the over-90 division singles rankings when he was 95 years old. At
the time, I asked him what happened to the guy who always beat him.
With a twinkle in his eye, Ed replied with the obvious.
"He died." #1 is #1, no matter how you get there.
Ed Osgood had a zest for life. Maybe that's one of the reasons he
lived so long. He married his wonderful wife, Jojo, in 2008, when he was 89
years old. She was his fifth wife, a result of divorces and deaths.
That didn't stop him from throwing himself a bachelor party,
though. It was the first bachelor party for an 89 year old I ever attended,
and most likely the last. I only remember that I went home long before the
groom did.
He played his last tennis match at the age of 97. He finally
slowed down, and entered the Veterans Administration Hospital in San
Francisco a few years ago, where he lived out his remarkable life. No
visitors allowed during the pandemic, except for his devoted wife.
She sent out a video about a year ago showing Ed in his
wheelchair in the hallway, batting a tennis ball against the wall. Maybe he
was training for the over 100 division, in case they start one. I wouldn't
have put it past him. Like I said, remarkable and good for the soul.
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