I would believe that every person needs diversion in their life. We must occasionally escape from stress and pressure, which can build to unimaginable crescendos. We refresh as we embrace a light-hearted distraction found in entertainment, social events and recreation.
As others, I do those things such as movies, dinner and social engagements. Aside from those customary amusements, I find joy in another avenue of release. It is an exercise that I suppose offers a quasi expression of sorts. I spend much time compiling various composite collections of rare vinyl 45 record classics and Long Play albums. The songs and recording artist of the 1940's and 1950's are my preferred targets. I will 'burn' different compilations onto CD's and then send those CD's to friends. I have some 'old and rare' recording stuff. For example: The De Castro Sisters one hit wonder, "Teach Me Tonight" is seldom if ever heard on any 'oldies' radio stations. And what about Little Milton's rendition of "Grits Ain't Groceries?"
Considering the many things that separate and define us as different, I believe yesterday's vocal artists and their songs bring a generation together in a time frame of special-commonality if just for a moment; the time it takes Etta James to sing "Dance With Me Henry" or Tommy Edwards to sing, "Please Mr. Sun." My friends will smile hearing the powerful voice of Don Cornell belting out, "I'm Yours" or the classic by The Browns, "The Old Lamplighter."
We all look back on our youth with mixed emotions. Our yesteryear's did shape our lives. Certain world and national events will always stand out in memories as well as our personal side of life that perhaps offered life altering events. Most of those memories are stirred and likely sharpened by musical sound tracks. Some recollections are held with fondness while other recall can be painful. The songs of our youth have become staples holding together remembrances of classic television shows, popular dance crazes and that special romantic relationship.
Someone once accused me of 'living' in the past. I dismiss the notion unapologetic noting that the 'music' of our times made us incurable romantics. I will leave the documentation research to others, but I would bet that the generation of the 1940's and 1950's have fewer divorces than any other two generations and my money says, the love songs sealed the deal! Goodness, how could two people walk from each other with a history of slow dancing to Frankie Laine's, "I Believe?"
Excuse me while I move myself from this typing machine; I intend to make some composite CD's with the voices of Patti Paige and Joni James. Before I go, I leave two music trivia notations: The most frequently played 'juke box' song is 'Crazy,' which is written by Willie Nelson and sung by Patsy Cline. The most frequently requested song for DJ's is "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers."
Okay, once a week select three of your favorite songs of long ago and listen as you attempt to identify the song's 'hook.' Do that exercise once a week; let me know if you can't find the song.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Leaders Should be Emotionally Normal
During a second cup of coffee yesterday morning, I was listening to television news-personalities discuss the wisdom of 'leaders' who may show or express emotional tears. Questions debated were: Does it show a sign of weakness? Is it wise for leaders to have those emotional moments publicly? ? How can the public be certain the tears are authentic?
My first reaction to these queries is whoa-be-folks; hold back the judgment on others regardless of the leadership status and examine your own emotional expressions; what is normality?
I embrace two quotes; one a Greek saying and the other from Shakespeare's 'Hamlet.' First, the ancient Greek maxim or saying, 'know thyself" is a warning to pay little to no attention to the opinion of others; even the multitudes. Secondly, in Shakespeare's Hamlet, the phrase, "be true to thine own self" is spoken. The widely held interpretation of this phrase is that one serves oneself best if one does not deceive or lie to self.
Let's turn the conversation back to the topic of leaders being honest with 'self' and thus having the ability to be honest with those they lead. My personal leadership roles began in earnest as a 'father.' There were times when I felt responsible to show 'intentional' leadership so my children had a blueprint in 'choice-behavior response to outside circumstance. Those were the times when my children were going to observe their father and how he responded or reacted to events that were beyond their father's control. On those occasions, I sometimes withheld the emotions of anger and frustration; remember, I am the 'intentional leader at that moment.
However, there were many times when I showed openly my loving affection for my children's mother with a playful kiss or hug. There were family deaths or a truly sad circumstance, which brought unabashed tears to my eyes; those tears were sincere expressed feelings not hidden from my children's view. Such moments are uncensored because it is the paramount fabric of life, which defines the human relationship experience.
I would safely guess that I have delivered more than twenty eulogies. I did not break down emotionally at any of those remembrance speeches, however there were a few moments when my voice quivered, lost strength and I had to pause in an attempt to to gain composure. This is normal and shows a depth of caring love. These are feelings held by all people regardless of their station in life or charge. No one wishes to have their leaders, clergy and doctors lose emotional control but it is okay to show a tearful side.
Let me sum it up this way: If one watched the faces of the parents engulfed in the Newtown, Connecticut mass gun slaying of six year old first graders and one did not cry, I don't want that individual to be my leader or my neighbor for we hold no kindred spirit.
My first reaction to these queries is whoa-be-folks; hold back the judgment on others regardless of the leadership status and examine your own emotional expressions; what is normality?
I embrace two quotes; one a Greek saying and the other from Shakespeare's 'Hamlet.' First, the ancient Greek maxim or saying, 'know thyself" is a warning to pay little to no attention to the opinion of others; even the multitudes. Secondly, in Shakespeare's Hamlet, the phrase, "be true to thine own self" is spoken. The widely held interpretation of this phrase is that one serves oneself best if one does not deceive or lie to self.
Let's turn the conversation back to the topic of leaders being honest with 'self' and thus having the ability to be honest with those they lead. My personal leadership roles began in earnest as a 'father.' There were times when I felt responsible to show 'intentional' leadership so my children had a blueprint in 'choice-behavior response to outside circumstance. Those were the times when my children were going to observe their father and how he responded or reacted to events that were beyond their father's control. On those occasions, I sometimes withheld the emotions of anger and frustration; remember, I am the 'intentional leader at that moment.
However, there were many times when I showed openly my loving affection for my children's mother with a playful kiss or hug. There were family deaths or a truly sad circumstance, which brought unabashed tears to my eyes; those tears were sincere expressed feelings not hidden from my children's view. Such moments are uncensored because it is the paramount fabric of life, which defines the human relationship experience.
I would safely guess that I have delivered more than twenty eulogies. I did not break down emotionally at any of those remembrance speeches, however there were a few moments when my voice quivered, lost strength and I had to pause in an attempt to to gain composure. This is normal and shows a depth of caring love. These are feelings held by all people regardless of their station in life or charge. No one wishes to have their leaders, clergy and doctors lose emotional control but it is okay to show a tearful side.
Let me sum it up this way: If one watched the faces of the parents engulfed in the Newtown, Connecticut mass gun slaying of six year old first graders and one did not cry, I don't want that individual to be my leader or my neighbor for we hold no kindred spirit.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Give Them All 'A' Grades While At It!
Over the years, I have observed my children going about these parenting duties and responsibilities. I concluded long ago that my kids far exceed my parents when it comes to proactive/hands-on attention.
Why, I recall when I was playing little league baseball, my parents not only seldom attended my games, they thought I was smart enough to 'find' water if I got thirsty! I do remember my Mother telling me once, "Don't put your mouth on the water-spout, you'll get trench mouth!" That warning came just as I was getting on my bike for the three mile ride to the city park. I don't recall Mother asking if I had money or what time I would be home. I suppose she assumed with 'no' money, I would be home at some point-in-time.
Little league parents today, usually attend the games carrying 'big-boy's' water bottle and a couple of his favorite snacks. I guess my parents never did imagine a 10-year old kid needing food after running from first to third and then to his position in right field. Kudos to the 'now' parent!
I will give my folks credit; with my brother who is fifteen years my junior. One time, I was seated in the bleachers at the city park watching my younger brother's team play. His team took the field first and I watched as my 'kid-brother' walked to his position in right field, tossed his glove aside and sat down in the grass facing 'away' from the infield. When I returned home and shared that scene with my parents they seemed indifferent. I suppose my parents, who always lectured me about 'hustling' had some parental epiphany while I was having my mind destroyed at that liberal-thinking' college.
I attended a neighborhood kid's little league game just last spring. My wife and I arrived late and I asked the gentleman near the backstop what inning they were 'in' and what was the score. I received several scornful glances from moms and dads. A nearby lady whispered to me, "We don't keep score and we don't record 'outs.' Every boy bats in every inning and we play for one-hour." I turned towards my wife and whispered, "Are these parents not afraid their kids are going to grow-up to become socialists?" I am somewhat certain that very few of them will grow up to play baseball. Meanwhile, the youth season ends with all smiles as every kid gets a trophy!
Once upon a time old timers in America bragged about learning from the 'school of hard knocks.' I regarded that as meaning...getting knocked on your ass but getting back up and making some adjustment so as not get knocked on your ass again!
The middle school algebra teacher could have given me an 'A' but it still did NOT make me as smart in algebra as Lois Siegel.
Why, I recall when I was playing little league baseball, my parents not only seldom attended my games, they thought I was smart enough to 'find' water if I got thirsty! I do remember my Mother telling me once, "Don't put your mouth on the water-spout, you'll get trench mouth!" That warning came just as I was getting on my bike for the three mile ride to the city park. I don't recall Mother asking if I had money or what time I would be home. I suppose she assumed with 'no' money, I would be home at some point-in-time.
Little league parents today, usually attend the games carrying 'big-boy's' water bottle and a couple of his favorite snacks. I guess my parents never did imagine a 10-year old kid needing food after running from first to third and then to his position in right field. Kudos to the 'now' parent!
I will give my folks credit; with my brother who is fifteen years my junior. One time, I was seated in the bleachers at the city park watching my younger brother's team play. His team took the field first and I watched as my 'kid-brother' walked to his position in right field, tossed his glove aside and sat down in the grass facing 'away' from the infield. When I returned home and shared that scene with my parents they seemed indifferent. I suppose my parents, who always lectured me about 'hustling' had some parental epiphany while I was having my mind destroyed at that liberal-thinking' college.
I attended a neighborhood kid's little league game just last spring. My wife and I arrived late and I asked the gentleman near the backstop what inning they were 'in' and what was the score. I received several scornful glances from moms and dads. A nearby lady whispered to me, "We don't keep score and we don't record 'outs.' Every boy bats in every inning and we play for one-hour." I turned towards my wife and whispered, "Are these parents not afraid their kids are going to grow-up to become socialists?" I am somewhat certain that very few of them will grow up to play baseball. Meanwhile, the youth season ends with all smiles as every kid gets a trophy!
Once upon a time old timers in America bragged about learning from the 'school of hard knocks.' I regarded that as meaning...getting knocked on your ass but getting back up and making some adjustment so as not get knocked on your ass again!
The middle school algebra teacher could have given me an 'A' but it still did NOT make me as smart in algebra as Lois Siegel.
Friday, January 25, 2013
There is a Penalty for Piling On!
For goodness sakes, I wish the media, the pundits and politicians would give Manti and Hillary a break! The shared commonality between the Notre Dame football standout and our Secretary of State is that 'target' on each individuals' back. Of course, do we not all acknowledge the truism found in Teddy Roosevelt's the 'Man in The Arena?' "It's not the critic who counts...etc, etc." Well the critic, indeed does not count but he does enjoy the endless bashing of other people. Shucks, now we have 24-7 cable news programming, which is a carousal of clatter paradise for those inclined to criticize.
A couple of days ago, the Capital Hill political wise-guys simply ripped Hillary Clinton a 'new-one' as they quizzed and cross-examined the Secretary of State regarding the (Benghazi) American Embassy attacks, which resulted in tragic deaths. The end result of the 'pin-the-blame' on Hillary game was her accepting responsibility and withholding vomiting when Rand Paul, who has done absolutely zero service for our country said, "If I were President I would have dismissed you as Secretary of State." He is crapping us, 'Tea Party' Paul would have never 'appointed' Hillary so how could he fire her.
Readers, you can go to the bank with the following assumptions: somebody missed advanced clues and subliminal warnings at Pearl Harbor, the JFK assassination, the 9-11 attacks and the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster. And don't you know that there was a doorman at Ford's Theater rear entrance who smiled and warmly greeted John Wilkes Booth. Rand and his partisan clan should turn their attention to more important matters, i. e., overturning the 40-year law, Roe vs. Wade and then 'taking on Obamacare.'
The ongoing soap opera drama involving Notre Dame's outstanding football player's victimization of a fake-girlfriend hoax reminds me of the saying, "Great people talk about ideas. Average people talk about things. Small people talk about other people." America is a great nation of many average-small folks! Manti was seemingly fooled by a hoax, he then enjoyed the sympathy-attention created by a bogus death and he came to realize the potential sympathy vote for the Heisman Trophy. He is not a bad person; just a sucker becoming an opportunist. Here is my take,as soon as the Notre Dame athletics director goes to confession for his phony cover up role, because he thought he was protecting 'Rudy' then all is forgiven. This will allow Bill O'Reilly(Fox News) to turn his time-consuming attention away from defending the 'Irish' and back to important matters defending the NRA and pointing out the socialist ways of Obama.
The critics should stop with all the Hillary / Manti bashing and do some reflective reading...
"...so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
A couple of days ago, the Capital Hill political wise-guys simply ripped Hillary Clinton a 'new-one' as they quizzed and cross-examined the Secretary of State regarding the (Benghazi) American Embassy attacks, which resulted in tragic deaths. The end result of the 'pin-the-blame' on Hillary game was her accepting responsibility and withholding vomiting when Rand Paul, who has done absolutely zero service for our country said, "If I were President I would have dismissed you as Secretary of State." He is crapping us, 'Tea Party' Paul would have never 'appointed' Hillary so how could he fire her.
Readers, you can go to the bank with the following assumptions: somebody missed advanced clues and subliminal warnings at Pearl Harbor, the JFK assassination, the 9-11 attacks and the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster. And don't you know that there was a doorman at Ford's Theater rear entrance who smiled and warmly greeted John Wilkes Booth. Rand and his partisan clan should turn their attention to more important matters, i. e., overturning the 40-year law, Roe vs. Wade and then 'taking on Obamacare.'
The ongoing soap opera drama involving Notre Dame's outstanding football player's victimization of a fake-girlfriend hoax reminds me of the saying, "Great people talk about ideas. Average people talk about things. Small people talk about other people." America is a great nation of many average-small folks! Manti was seemingly fooled by a hoax, he then enjoyed the sympathy-attention created by a bogus death and he came to realize the potential sympathy vote for the Heisman Trophy. He is not a bad person; just a sucker becoming an opportunist. Here is my take,as soon as the Notre Dame athletics director goes to confession for his phony cover up role, because he thought he was protecting 'Rudy' then all is forgiven. This will allow Bill O'Reilly(Fox News) to turn his time-consuming attention away from defending the 'Irish' and back to important matters defending the NRA and pointing out the socialist ways of Obama.
The critics should stop with all the Hillary / Manti bashing and do some reflective reading...
"...so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Democrat Singers Are Sneaky
Holy Cow! Say it ain't so! Please tell me that Beyonce' did not lip sync the National Anthem at President Obama's Inauguration. Also, please confirm and assure me that it was Obama giving the address. I cannot take much more of the GOP badmouthing my friends.
Okay, I wish to go on record NOW; Beyonce' can never be a serious candidate for baseball's hall-of-fame. At career's end she must go to purgatory with Bonds, McGuire, Sosa, Clemens and Lance Armstrong; they shall be relegated to playing "UNO" and "Where's Waldo?" throughout their respective eternities! Actually, in defense of Beyonce', she simply 'caught' that Washington D.C. influenza bug, you know the variety; causes folks in Washington D.C. to pretend to do their job!
I would contrast one line from Obama's inaugural message (his words) to the actions of some elected politicians and then ask the question, has greed and power-lusting always trumped our Declaration of Independence? Obama referenced and paraphrased the Declaration of Independence and mentioned how we must insure the 'little girl (born in obscure poverty) those guarantees.' I recently read a news article that reported some 200,000 Americans, in frustration, turned away from five to seven hours of deviously orchestrated and unnecessary line-waiting to vote in the past Presidential election. Other unethical and cunning attempts were made by some elected officials to disenfranchise voters. In Texas and Pennsylvania the Courts intervened to strike down bogus and unlawful voter ID requirements designed to reduce the voting participation numbers of a particular political persuasion. And just imagine, sports' historians claim that the 1919 Chicago White Sox baseball team was scandalous! Give me as break; America needs to wake up and see scandalous!!
I like Obama's recent approach of governing from the 'outside.' While the Congress plays those 'inside' cloak & dagger poppycock games, Obama seems poised to take every issue to the public and allow the voices of 'little' folks to shape the debate and perhaps legislate through public opinion.. Let's hope we can get Immigration Reform, voter rights secured, control of semi-automatic guns and maybe, we can even get Pete Rose into the Hall-of-Fame but don't bet on it.
On a personal note, I have observed two drastic changes in recent years: First, the once vibrant brownish freckles on my arms have been replaced by dull greying liver-spots and secondly, everybody is whispering these days; folks need to speak louder.
Okay, I wish to go on record NOW; Beyonce' can never be a serious candidate for baseball's hall-of-fame. At career's end she must go to purgatory with Bonds, McGuire, Sosa, Clemens and Lance Armstrong; they shall be relegated to playing "UNO" and "Where's Waldo?" throughout their respective eternities! Actually, in defense of Beyonce', she simply 'caught' that Washington D.C. influenza bug, you know the variety; causes folks in Washington D.C. to pretend to do their job!
I would contrast one line from Obama's inaugural message (his words) to the actions of some elected politicians and then ask the question, has greed and power-lusting always trumped our Declaration of Independence? Obama referenced and paraphrased the Declaration of Independence and mentioned how we must insure the 'little girl (born in obscure poverty) those guarantees.' I recently read a news article that reported some 200,000 Americans, in frustration, turned away from five to seven hours of deviously orchestrated and unnecessary line-waiting to vote in the past Presidential election. Other unethical and cunning attempts were made by some elected officials to disenfranchise voters. In Texas and Pennsylvania the Courts intervened to strike down bogus and unlawful voter ID requirements designed to reduce the voting participation numbers of a particular political persuasion. And just imagine, sports' historians claim that the 1919 Chicago White Sox baseball team was scandalous! Give me as break; America needs to wake up and see scandalous!!
I like Obama's recent approach of governing from the 'outside.' While the Congress plays those 'inside' cloak & dagger poppycock games, Obama seems poised to take every issue to the public and allow the voices of 'little' folks to shape the debate and perhaps legislate through public opinion.. Let's hope we can get Immigration Reform, voter rights secured, control of semi-automatic guns and maybe, we can even get Pete Rose into the Hall-of-Fame but don't bet on it.
On a personal note, I have observed two drastic changes in recent years: First, the once vibrant brownish freckles on my arms have been replaced by dull greying liver-spots and secondly, everybody is whispering these days; folks need to speak louder.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
I Once Turned Onto That Street
Out-of-pocket the past couple of days! My wife and I traveled to the Metro-East area for a ninety-year-old gentleman's birthday party on Sunday and then attended a Monday morning Memorial Service honoring my Mother, who passed one month ago. The birthday fella, Ray McGraw is the older sibling of a former East St. Louis high school teammate of mine, Tom McGraw. It was a neat moment to observe so much family love and friendship respect for a truly 'gentle-'man.
The next Day, Monday, January 21, Brad Thomas clergy/pastor at the Meridian Village Independent/Assisted Living Home where my Mother resided for nine years, orchestrated a wonderful service. Many of my Mother's residential friends joined some family members to remember Lucille Vickers (Lou) Roustio. Afterwards, Gerry and I were joined by granddaughter, Amanda Murphey, great-grandson, Talin, grandson Kyle O'Keefe, cousin, Gary Swalley, brother, Tom and wife Vicky and their two granddaughters, Emily and Allison for lunch; a sweet sharing moment. Before departing the Edwardsville area, we took SIUE, college student-grandson, Kyle for a little grocery shopping. I told the lad that until he begins making the two-hour trip to Nana and Boompa's for those vittles gathering exercises, gasoline fill-up chances and that extra $20 spot, I will believe his 'higher' education has not kicked-in!
On our return trip back to Decatur, I shared with my wife, Gerry a thought that she too was engaging as we traveled about the familiar roads of Edwardsville, Caseyville, Collinsville and Belleville during our two-day trek; a new and strange thought of 'familarity-emptiness.' Let me explain. As we motored from site to site, we passed by the former three-former homes of my parents, once-upon-a-time houses of three aunts and uncles and of course our sister-in law's home...all those love ones are gone. Those stops that we frequently made and the laughter that awaited at each visit is no more but now relegated to memories. The urge to drive into to those familiar drive ways is halted by the realities of contact-closure.
The word 'adjustment' comes to mind this morning. 'Adjustment' has been a huge part of both my sport-playing and professional life. As a baseball pitcher, I often made mechanical 'adjustments.' As a coach, I asked my teams to make approach-adjustments. The coaching-career moves that I made required me and my family to 'adjust.' Anytime that we make adjustments, we discard a habit from yesterday and embrace a new approach; we turn the page as 'they' say.
I can 'adjust' to this new reality because I bring a blueprint-strength from the 'old' history. The day, eighteen years ago, when the Barnes Hospital cardiologist staff told my Father that they had reached their limits to assist his failing heart, my Dad told me, "I gotta play the hand that I am dealt, but I am so thankful I was invited to the game." We must all play out various hands...just remember to enjoy the company while you have it.
The next Day, Monday, January 21, Brad Thomas clergy/pastor at the Meridian Village Independent/Assisted Living Home where my Mother resided for nine years, orchestrated a wonderful service. Many of my Mother's residential friends joined some family members to remember Lucille Vickers (Lou) Roustio. Afterwards, Gerry and I were joined by granddaughter, Amanda Murphey, great-grandson, Talin, grandson Kyle O'Keefe, cousin, Gary Swalley, brother, Tom and wife Vicky and their two granddaughters, Emily and Allison for lunch; a sweet sharing moment. Before departing the Edwardsville area, we took SIUE, college student-grandson, Kyle for a little grocery shopping. I told the lad that until he begins making the two-hour trip to Nana and Boompa's for those vittles gathering exercises, gasoline fill-up chances and that extra $20 spot, I will believe his 'higher' education has not kicked-in!
On our return trip back to Decatur, I shared with my wife, Gerry a thought that she too was engaging as we traveled about the familiar roads of Edwardsville, Caseyville, Collinsville and Belleville during our two-day trek; a new and strange thought of 'familarity-emptiness.' Let me explain. As we motored from site to site, we passed by the former three-former homes of my parents, once-upon-a-time houses of three aunts and uncles and of course our sister-in law's home...all those love ones are gone. Those stops that we frequently made and the laughter that awaited at each visit is no more but now relegated to memories. The urge to drive into to those familiar drive ways is halted by the realities of contact-closure.
The word 'adjustment' comes to mind this morning. 'Adjustment' has been a huge part of both my sport-playing and professional life. As a baseball pitcher, I often made mechanical 'adjustments.' As a coach, I asked my teams to make approach-adjustments. The coaching-career moves that I made required me and my family to 'adjust.' Anytime that we make adjustments, we discard a habit from yesterday and embrace a new approach; we turn the page as 'they' say.
I can 'adjust' to this new reality because I bring a blueprint-strength from the 'old' history. The day, eighteen years ago, when the Barnes Hospital cardiologist staff told my Father that they had reached their limits to assist his failing heart, my Dad told me, "I gotta play the hand that I am dealt, but I am so thankful I was invited to the game." We must all play out various hands...just remember to enjoy the company while you have it.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Thanks to Baseball's Perfect Knight
About 7:15 P.M. last evening, my son, Steve telephoned to tell me that he had moments before read on 'facebook' that baseball great, Stan Musial died. He said, "I'll check it out and call you back." Three minutes later he telephoned again and said, "It's true Dad, your childhood hero is dead."
There are some moments that cause you to realize how your emotions, although invisible, are much like a skinned knee; it gets banged up, bleeds and then begins to form a scab as part of the healing process. My ninety-three year old Mother's death was just four weeks ago. Even though she had lived a long and wonderful life and even though I knew she was ready to 'go,' I have fought many moments of tears the past few weeks just wishing that I could hear her voice and laughter. My emotional bruise and cuts from Mom's death had begun forming that 'scab.' However, the second telephone call from my son was as if I had the scab knocked loose by the confirmation that, indeed, Stan "The Man' Musial was dead at ninety-two.
Let's be honest if we will; there is a little boy inside every grown man. The little-boy 'lives' amongst childhood games, secret hiding places and names of loving pets. That 'inside' little boy also reminds the grown-up guy of that 'history' special unto us as it intertwines with others in this shared journey. The Musial connection was not simply about a skilled professional baseball idol from my youth but his ongoing career was that conduit between a father and son who shared a love for a backyard game of catch and hundreds of Cardinals' baseball games at Sportsmans' Park, St. Louis.
Before I began typing this remembrance blog, I looked down at my desk to noticed two photos that are positioned side-by-side under the glass top; one is a photo of my Father and the other is a photo of Musial. I recall seated next to my Dad at the old Park at Grand and Dodier Avenues on May 4, 1954, when Dad and I were deliriously excited to watch Stan 'The Man' hit five (5) home runs in a doubleheader against the 'Giants.' Years later, (1963) Dad and I watched Stan play his final major league game against the Cincinnati 'Reds.' He got two hits that day off of Reds' pitcher Jim Maloney.
My telephone rang several more times last night. Granddaughter, Loren called to tell me she was sorry that Musial had died because she knew that he was special in my youth. My daughter Pamela was at a high school basketball game and her son, Caleb sent a text-message to her with the news of Musial's passing. My daughter immediately telephoned to ask if I knew. She purchased a Musial autographed jersey a few years ago and said to me before last night's conversation end, "Well my jersey value just increased." I thought to myself, yes, indeed and as soon as these emotional cuts form a new scab, I shall have a memory value increase.
I tell you this with all honesty, that little boy of many years past would at some time during every Cardinals' night game he attended, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer thanking God for the baseball moment with Dad and he wished it would never end. I am sure the 'little' boy inside will awaken the old man at times in the coming weeks and revisit precious memories.
Hey Stan, thanks for the many heroic fetes, the gentleman's blueprint and sharing a journey with a Father and Son.
There are some moments that cause you to realize how your emotions, although invisible, are much like a skinned knee; it gets banged up, bleeds and then begins to form a scab as part of the healing process. My ninety-three year old Mother's death was just four weeks ago. Even though she had lived a long and wonderful life and even though I knew she was ready to 'go,' I have fought many moments of tears the past few weeks just wishing that I could hear her voice and laughter. My emotional bruise and cuts from Mom's death had begun forming that 'scab.' However, the second telephone call from my son was as if I had the scab knocked loose by the confirmation that, indeed, Stan "The Man' Musial was dead at ninety-two.
Let's be honest if we will; there is a little boy inside every grown man. The little-boy 'lives' amongst childhood games, secret hiding places and names of loving pets. That 'inside' little boy also reminds the grown-up guy of that 'history' special unto us as it intertwines with others in this shared journey. The Musial connection was not simply about a skilled professional baseball idol from my youth but his ongoing career was that conduit between a father and son who shared a love for a backyard game of catch and hundreds of Cardinals' baseball games at Sportsmans' Park, St. Louis.
Before I began typing this remembrance blog, I looked down at my desk to noticed two photos that are positioned side-by-side under the glass top; one is a photo of my Father and the other is a photo of Musial. I recall seated next to my Dad at the old Park at Grand and Dodier Avenues on May 4, 1954, when Dad and I were deliriously excited to watch Stan 'The Man' hit five (5) home runs in a doubleheader against the 'Giants.' Years later, (1963) Dad and I watched Stan play his final major league game against the Cincinnati 'Reds.' He got two hits that day off of Reds' pitcher Jim Maloney.
My telephone rang several more times last night. Granddaughter, Loren called to tell me she was sorry that Musial had died because she knew that he was special in my youth. My daughter Pamela was at a high school basketball game and her son, Caleb sent a text-message to her with the news of Musial's passing. My daughter immediately telephoned to ask if I knew. She purchased a Musial autographed jersey a few years ago and said to me before last night's conversation end, "Well my jersey value just increased." I thought to myself, yes, indeed and as soon as these emotional cuts form a new scab, I shall have a memory value increase.
I tell you this with all honesty, that little boy of many years past would at some time during every Cardinals' night game he attended, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer thanking God for the baseball moment with Dad and he wished it would never end. I am sure the 'little' boy inside will awaken the old man at times in the coming weeks and revisit precious memories.
Hey Stan, thanks for the many heroic fetes, the gentleman's blueprint and sharing a journey with a Father and Son.
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