Anymore, news about violence or a shooting in Wyandotte County/ Kansas City, Kan. (KCK) is as common as an Alex Smith check down/dump pass. Both occur so often that I have become jaded when either happens.
I was born and raised in the heart of KCK and my family has been a part of the community for generations. I am extremely proud to be from Wyandotte County. I am proud of my Slovenian roots that run deep in the historic "Strawberry Hill" neighborhood. However, I am disgusted and embarrassed by the violence that has infested my hometown. Aside from a few relatively minor incidents, the KCK violence heard daily on various local news had never really impacted me.
That all changed the morning of November 26, 2016.
I awoke early that Sunday to multiple text messages from old high school friends sharing horrific and heartbreaking news. One in particular read, "Louie Scherzer shot and killed last night outside Chicago's....wtf?"
No way. Can't be real. I KNOW LOUIE. I KNOW THE SCHERZERS. I PLAYED FOOTBALL WITH ROBERT. KATIE IS ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS!
However, it was true. Louis Scherzer, 29 years old with his whole life ahead of him, was the latest victim of random/senseless KCK violence. He was shot and killed outside of a bar that I had been to numerous times in the part of town I grew up in. I couldn't wrap my brain around that. As the reality sunk in, memories of Louie, my friends Katie and Robert, their family, KCK, along with a flood of emotions, hit me .
During my high school days, in the mid to late 90's, the Scherzer house on 17th street was the hub for me and my friends. Before and after going out, Bishop Ward High sporting events, or one of the countless parties/gatherings the Scherzer family had - that house was simply the place to be. Each time I walked in the door, I was greeted with a smile and (above the classic rock blasting from their stereo system) a boisterous hello from one of the Scherzer family members. The smell of food, MY GOD THE FOOD, would hit me like a smothering tackle from a football game. Someone was always making something to eat and if you were lucky, Mrs. Scherzer/Cathy was whipping up her infamous tacos.
The house was full of life . It was warm. It was energetic. It was.....perfect.
Anyone who knows my friend Katie knows that she has never been nor ever will be on time for ANYTHING. You tell her to be ready at 7 p.m. - no way you are walking out that door until 8:30 p.m. or 9 p.m. - at the earliest! So, back then when you were at the Scherzer house to do something with her, you could expect a couple hours waiting for her to finish "getting ready."
That time was spent snacking on Cathy's tacos (God willing), talking to Harry/Mr. Scherzer and hearing one of his legendary stories that suspiciously seemed too good to be true (and probably are), shooting pool, or in my groups case - wrestling with Louie. Although six years younger, Louie felt like and was part of the group. He was so beloved by Katie that it was impossible to not feel love for him. He was her "Boo Boo" and our little buddy.
Towards the end of my high school days/first few years of college, Louie transitioned from the little guy we would body slam in the living room, to the person who would cook late night snacks in the kitchen when one of our night's out ended. Not sure if it was a result of the alcohol, but each and every one of his meals hit the spot. He was so happy to do it too. Happy to help. Happy to be a part of our night. He was happy.
The last time I saw or talked to Louie was a couple years ago. After a member of the previously mentioned high school group's wedding (and like so many times before), Louie served as a designated driver for the night. Despite the late hour and fact he was already home, he gave me a ride.
Same ol Louie, willing to help at the drop of a hat.
I spent that half hour or so ride "bsing" with just him in his truck. We talked about getting older, girls, and I teased him about the things we would do to him when he was younger. I fondly remember a conversation with lots of laughs from the start of the drive to the moment he dropped me off. At the end, when I offered to give him money for gas, Louie refused telling me (with a smile) that my money was "no good."
I never got to repay him and since the news of his death, I have felt helpless and sad for the Scherzer family. I can only hope that they find some comfort in stories and memories like mine and know that I was one of so, so many touched by Louie and his family.
Image by Nicole Payne Gravatt
Three day's after Louie's death, I was proud to join hundreds for a vigil celebrating his life. I was proud of the community. Proud that the senseless violence that took an innocent life could not and would not overshadow the love for him and the Scherzers.
Being there felt like the only thing I could do to help, to pay Louie back, to honor him.
There is a line in the Dylan Thomas poem, "And Death Shall Have No Dominion " that reads, "though lovers be lost love shall not." Although Louie is no longer with us, the love for him, his family and fond memories of his life will never be lost or forgotten.
Rest in peace Louie.
Image by Nicole Payne Gravatt