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Two years ago, after an 18-year career in the legal field, I decided I was sick of it. I wanted to do something fun! I was visiting some friends in Appleton and browsing the classifieds, when I ran across an ad for a position in Green Bay. I got very excited because it was for the Green Bay Packers' Fan Club, America's Pack. Although I didn't know much about the fan club, I knew I was a huge Packer fan, and this interested me greatly. I sent my resume in the next day. After about two months, I finally received a call, asking me to come in for an interview. I was thrilled. The interview went well, but it took two more months before I was invited back for a second interview, and finally offered the position. All along, I knew this was "my job". Anyone who knows me knows that I love most sports and adored the Packers.

So, in April of 1996, I moved to Green Bay and started my new journey. The first year went by in a blur. We had golf outings, player clinics, pre-season tailgate parties, pre- game tailgate parties, away tailgate parties. (Oh, did I mention I love to throw parties?) Everyone I spoke to about this job asked me if I actually got paid. I had the great fortune to attend many of the road games and yes, I did get to go to Super Bowl XXXI and XXXII. What an experience.

This is all just a prelude to what I really wanted to talk about, though. Ray Nitschke. I first met Ray early on in my duties as office manager for America's Pack. Ray was our spokesman and of course, did his weekly columns in the Packer Report. He would come in and gruffly make his way through our office, intimidating everyone along the way. I was in awe the first time I ever met him. He's a large man with a commanding presence. And when I shook his hand . . . my hand became lost in his. I was always very professional around him. He was a man who commanded respect, though I later learned that he wasn't nearly as intimidating as he would have liked you to think.

Ray's wife was sick when I met him in '96. She had been battling cancer for a while. She passed away that summer; yet, he still made it a point to attend all the events we had him scheduled for, never letting on that he was really suffering.

I believe that Ray's wife, Jackie, helped Ray a lot with his public appearances, and pretty much served as his PR lady. After she passed away, he seemed a little lost. I offered to help him out with anything I could. Well, Ray took me up on my offer and called me one morning about 8:30 a.m. He said he had a favor and of course, I was eager to oblige: "What could I do for you, Ray?" Well, it seems he had a roast to attend, where some of the Packers of the '60s were going to roast the new rookies and younger Packers. I wasn't sure where this was headed. I told him I had heard about the roast and wondered how I could help. Imagine the panic that set in when he asked me to help him with his speech! After I got over that shock, I asked him when he needed it, and he said he'd stop by in an hour or two. After I hung up, I screamed! Then I collected my thoughts and hit all my resources up. I found out a little about the guys he was going to roast and put together some jokes. Ray came into the office an hour later, and I was typing fast and furious, trying to get it just right. He threw some papers down on my desk and said perhaps I could use some of the jokes he'd received from a friend (who just happened to be a writer for Jay Leno). It turns out they were jokes about the old Packers and all I had was information on the new Packers, so I wove the two together and came up with a speech. Ray read it, sitting across from me the whole time (that hardly made me nervous at all!). When he got done reading it, he said, "This is great!" (Usually, this is where I do my best impression of the Ray Nitschke growl.) He had a big smile on his face and thanked me, hugged me and left for Milwaukee to deliver the speech. That was some pretty exciting stuff for me.

We grew closer over the next year and a half and Ray would stop by, sometimes just to chat. I know he was pretty lonely since his wife's death, and he felt comfortable coming to our little office. Of course, I couldn't tell a story about Ray without saying that he was always being asked to do an autograph and not once did he ever turn anyone down. He came to our tailgate party in Tampa the last two years and signed autographs. The lines were always long and the crowd was always chanting, "Ray! Ray! Ray!" He was so invincible, I never thought that would ever end.

But my most memorable "Ray story" was when he called me and said he had a favor to ask me. Of course, before knowing what it was, I eagerly agreed. Well, he was giving another talk in front of a group called the Veritas Society, in Milwaukee. He told me they were involved in the Pro Life movement. Ray was asked to speak to some people at a fundraiser. I had to think about this one. It was a little tougher than a roast. I told him I'd certainly give it a shot but was apprehensive about what to say. After all, what was his angle here? Oh, the good news was that I had a whole day to do this speech! So I sat in front of my computer that night, looking up everything I could that might help with this speech. However, I really didn't know where Ray was coming from, so I had to call him at home. I apologized for my ignorance and asked him why they had chosen him to be the speaker. Understandably, his celebrity status would be an obvious reason, but I felt there must be something I was missing. And while I assumed that he was pro life, I had to be sure. He told me that he was asked to speak because his three children had all been adopted, and because of those mothers' choices to keep their children, he had the honor of fulfilling his dream of being a father, and later, a grandfather. Well, that certainly helped. I wrote the speech and waited for his critique the next day. He sat across from my desk, as he always did, and read the speech. I held my breath. In a not-so-gruff voice, he said, "This is great." That's when this huge man got up, tears rolling down his cheeks, came over and hugged me. He couldn't have been more grateful. He actually tried to give me money for doing the speech. Indignant, I refused. I told Ray that what he didn't apparently realize was that it was not only an honor, but a privilege for me to do these things for him. He had no idea. You see, Ray always felt so grateful that people liked him, as if he didn't deserve it or something.

He was a giant among men (figuratively and literally). But the Ray I knew was a kind soul, who would give you the shirt off his back. I, along with the rest of his millions of fans, was shocked when I heard the news of his death on March 8. He was a man of steel, after all, nothing could happen to Ray! I last spoke with him after the Super Bowl. We had all the answers for why the game ended the way it did, of course. Then he left for his place in Florida, promising to stop in to see me as soon as he returned to Green Bay. I never got to see him again. Afterward, I thought about the fact that of all the autographs I ever got Ray to sign for other people, I had never asked him to autograph anything personally for me . . . but I had something so much better. Ray had autographed my heart.