Can you have an "aside" before you begin?

Birth of the Frog

Over the decades I have been asked on occasion where the moniker Frog came from. It is a nick-name that has stuck with me off and on since approximately 1966. I have gone through periods where many members of my inner circle have called me Frog, and many of them have been unsure of my given name. At other times, such as during the formative years of my children, the nick name was seldom uttered, but by a few of my close relatives who had been using it for many years. I thought it best that when the players on Little League teams or members of my Boy Scout Troop wanted my attention that they call for Coach or Mr. Finnegan, not Frog. What is always fun is when two groups intermingle, those that know of my amphibious past and those who have known me for many years simply as Jerry. Inevitably, someone will call out my name and members of the opposite crowd will look in bewilderment to see who answers the call. Reactions are often entertaining.

One of the few remaining remnants of my motorcycling days is the nickname. It all started at a hill-climb in Warren, Illinois circa 1966, on a hill that could not be conquered. The object of a hill-climb is to, from a standing start at the base of a steep hill, accelerate and proceed up the hill as far and as quickly as possible. Most hills are equipped with a timing system; this one only measured distance from the starting log, as conquering the hill was not something that occurred.

I was riding a 250cc Montesa Diablo and, like all before me (and all that followed), made an unsuccessful attempt at the hill. When your forward progress stops you lay the bike over on its side to mark your progress while a measurement is taken. My bike was thusly laid unceremoniously on its side as I bailed out and rolled all the way to the bottom of the hill. Hopping back to my feet I quickly realized two things: 1) I had to go back up the hill to retrieve my bike and 2) I had hit my knee on a rock on the way down and was unable to support my weight.

As I began to hobble, I placed precious little weight on my one leg and only long enough to bring my good leg up to a position where I could again stand on it. This is often referred to as limping, but this was a severe enough limp as to be classified as a hobble. Complicating matters even further was the steepness of the hill and the size of my feet. The only upward progress I could obtain was by pointing my feet outward to avoid tipping over backwards.

This manual hill-climbing procedure was captured on 8m.m. film by a family member positioned directly behind me at the base of the hill. When the developed footage was later viewed the captured image was easily interpreted as a frog leaping slowly up the hill. At first the scene on the screen was referred to as “the frog” each time we watched it, but the moniker caught on and was attached to the star of the scene. From that time hence I have been known as Frog.