Oilpressure

I hate to admit it, but I am delinquent in writing this. I should have written about this in March; but I wanted to finally acknowledge this today, before we get into the thick of racing season.

As most of you know – my wife, Susan, was stricken with pancreatic cancer almost four years ago. At the time, she was given ten to twelve months to live. The first year or two were very touch and go, but the past year and a half has seen her in a definite upward trajectory. I knock on wood as I type this, because she had her regular six-month scans yesterday. We will get the results next Tuesday. Keep fingers crossed!

When we were at IMS in 2021, a friend and longtime reader of this site, Maurice Kessler (I hope he doesn’t mind me using his name), introduced Susan to a longtime Yellow Shirt, who had also been treated recently for pancreatic cancer. His name was Barry Lighty, and you could always find Barry working right around the Yard of Bricks. That was his domain.

Barry and Susan instantly bonded. They were both diagnosed around the same time, and both went through similar treatments, but Barry did not have the surgery that Susan had. Barry was about ten years older than us, but he looked like the picture of health. Had I not known he had pancreatic cancer, I would have never known anything was the matter with him. This picture of Barry and Susan was made last May, when Susan was still a little feeble, recovering from her horrible summer of 2022. As usual, Barry was sporting his infectious smile.

We both were connected to Barry on Facebook. We were able to see the travels that Barry and his wife Brenda took, when he wasn’t fulfilling his Yellow Shirt duties at IMS. They were leading a life at full blast, despite him carrying that horrible disease. Barry also was a very devoted family man and a man of faith. He posted just as many photos of his kids and grandchildren, as he did of their travels. I recall seeing lots of photos Barry posted from various athletic fields in central Indiana. His vibrancy and optimistic outlook served as an inspiration to both Susan and me; although he always said that Susan was his inspiration.

In such a short period of time, the three of us had become very good friends. Our conversations veered from talking about cancer – the thing that brought us together; to discussions about racing, sports and other more pleasant topics. Every single day that Susan and I were at the track, or even those days when I was there by myself – we would always go to the Yard of Bricks for our daily visit with Barry, who seemed to always have a giant smile on his face. Even whenever I witnessed him doing his job of keeping non-credentialed fans from casually wandering out into the pits, Barry was always kind about it and was always good-hearted in turning people away.

In mid-January, Barry posted a photo that I didn’t want to see. He was in a hospital bed with IVs attached. He noted that cancer had returned and he was asking for prayers. This was a different form of cancer than what was in his pancreas. His Facebook account has since been deleted, but I believe it was lymphoma he was now dealing with.

You know how this ends. Shortly after waking up on the morning of Sunday March 3, I saw the devastating news that Barry had passed away. From the time he had posted that cancer had returned until he passed away, was only a span of about seven weeks.

It was a hard slap in the face. Not only had Susan and I lost a relatively new friend that we only saw a few times each year, but it was a stark reminder to not get too comfortable with cancer. Never take a single day for granted. Things can turn quickly, and what happened to Barry brought to mind what can happen to Susan, or anyone, for that matter.

When I attended the Open Test last week, I walked right by where we would always see Barry smiling and laughing throughout the Month of May and the Brickyard weekend. There was a strange emptiness to that spot – partly because there were not a whole lot of people on hand that day, but it also reminded me that we would no longer see Barry standing there this May or anytime in the future. I took this photo last week, as sort of a remembrance of Barry. There will be a void there this May.

I am reluctant to even write about this for fear of jinxing things, especially with the results of Susan’s scans looming. I am hopeful that next Wednesday, I can report another session of clear scans and we can stop worrying, at least for another six months. We have no reason to think otherwise. Susan is feeling better than ever. She is not losing weight, and she has gone back to work. We are already planning next week’s trip to Barber and our Month of May activities. But as Barry proved to us this past winter – you never know.

I know a few readers here knew Barry. If you did, you already know what I’ve been talking about. Even if you didn’t know Barry personally, you may have encountered him in the pit area around the Yard of Bricks. Just know that there was a Yellow Shirt named Barry Lighty, and he was a good man. Please think about Barry, his family and his scores of friends at IMS this May.

George Phillips

This entry was posted on April 17, 2024 at 4:04 am and is filed under IndyCar. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.