I ran into a friend from an art class at the University of Washington, Tacoma. I took the class because I needed an art credit for my minor in education. Burk Ketcham took the class to workshop some socially conscious art that he was creating for United for Peace, Pierce County, which he helped to spearhead at its inception. He wasn’t working toward a degree; he’d already earned a Masters from Columbia University’s School of Architecture.

But it turns out there was a lot more I didn’t know about Ketcham.

I didn’t know he was a World War II veteran, sent to Princeton for the first part of his education so that he could fight in the war as an officer. I didn’t know he was a former Quaker. I didn’t know he was a world-class athlete and has a gold medal to prove it.

Ketcham’s athletic coup happened in Zagreb, Croatia, at the 34th FISA

(Federation Internationale des Societes d\'Aviron, or International Rowing Association) World Rowing Masters Regatta.

He’s gone before. Last year he traveled to Glasgow, the year before, Lithuania, and the year before that, New Jersey.

But as an octogenarian rower he was pitted against the young guys — the septuagenarians who had a distinct advantage. So he decided to petition FISA for a J (80 plus) category and put the word out through all available avenues worldwide.

It wasn’t that Ketcham was sandbagging, he was merely thinking of the other 80-year-olds who would balk at paying expensive travel costs to compete.

The eldest in a field of four, as an individual rower, Ketcham took third; as part of a two-man team, Ketcham missed winning by .11 seconds. Almost apologetically, Ketcham suggests it’s his fault since he was not quite on his A game. Even today, he admits, his walk around Point Defiance Park was flop-footed on his right side. “I row better than I walk,” he says with his trademark smile.

It’s residual nerve damage, he explains, from surgery he had in his back five months ago.

And yet, he managed to compete, at 82, in a field of 14, and place in three of four races, not to mention bringing home gold from one of those.

“It’s really no big deal,” he shrugs. He says he worked hard and seems pleased with that, but what this organizer is proud of is the fact that he’s a charter member — and creator — of the Ancient Order of the OAR, or Octogenarian Active Rower, headquartered out of Tacoma.

The former city planning consultant, lawn game inventor, current peace activist and Ancient Order of the OAR organizer and medal co-creator shows no signs of slowing down. There’s next year’s championship to prepare for, for one thing. And his cello lessons, inspired by the cello of the guy he sat next to recently on his plane ride toward home.

He says he might be old to start learning to play the cello.

But he chuckles, “I started rowing at 67.”

“I don’t like to call myself a senior citizen,” Ketcham declares, smiling. “I ain’t one yet.”