I umpired college and high school baseball games for eleven years. I enjoyed the challenge to 'get calls' correct and baseball has always been my first sports' love. Not many 'White' umpires would accept contracts to work games in East St. Louis during the 1970's. I suppose when you are a native of a community, you tend to embrace a denial regarding safety; my goodness 'those ' are the streets and playgrounds of my youth, how dangerous can it be to return?
I always felt comfortable umpiring for East St. Louis baseball coach, Arthur May. He was always at my side the instant I needed to address an unruly crowd. Let me share a quick footnote on East St. Louis baseball per se'. That city produced some great high school teams and many major leagues players. I can personally attest to the incredible youth baseball leagues, high school programs and American Legion teams of the 1940's and 1950's. In time the 'white flight' removed many people with baseball passion and the city became primarily Black with its growing interest in professional basketball. Sadly, East St. Louis high school's baseball today is a 'joke.' It was once suggested to me by a MLB scout that he believed if young Black athletes spent as much time on baseball sandlots as they obviously do on outdoor basketball courts, there would be more Blacks playing pro baseball and many who are truly too small to succeed in the NBA might find $$$ in MLB. I agree.
My final umpiring gig at East Side, Jones' Park Diamond #1 was on a warm May day, 1978. The big cross-town rival games between the Lincoln 'Tigers' and East St. Louis 'Flyers' was the draw and it indeed drew hundreds of fans that day. It would appear that 50% of the East St. Louis population owned German Sheppard dogs. After a lengthy explanation of ground rules that included conversation about a lot of 'imaginary-lines,' I called out, "Play ball," as I assumed my home plate ump duties.
Several times during the first three innings, I had to call time out and move people and dogs back from slow encroachment near the playing field; each time Coach May was at my side offering administrative 'backup.' In the top of the fourth inning, I noticed a male patron walking from the right field area towards the infield; his staggering gate indicated that he was either drunk or' high' on some substance. I call for play suspension and began walking towards the second base area where the inebriated gent was heading as he gestured and shouted incoherently. I arrive at the position and within ten feet of the guy, his eyes suggested that he was not in control of any thing! I had removed my umpires mask and in my most stern-authoritative voice ordered the man from the field. He grumbled some words and slowly staggered towards the second baseman and took the lad's glove as he offered fielding pointers. Another command for him to leave the field seemed to resonate as the man stumbled to the sidelines. Between innings, I asked Coach May, "Hey Man, why were you not at my side helping me remove the drunk?" Coach May response, "Oh shit Mel, that's crazy Willie and he packs heat."
The game over, I found myself standing at my auto's trunk on North Park Drive putting my equipment away as the street lights flickered 'on.' I thought to myself, 'Roustio, you can go home but you're a fool to do so!"
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
What's In a Name?
I was browsing the grocery store aisle looking for 'Frank's Bavarian Sauerkraut when I overheard two Black gentlemen greet each other using the 'N' word, i.e., "What's up Nigger?" I could not help but recalling radio talk show host, Dr. Laura using the 'N' word several times on her show and how it caused a major fallout for her. Here's the deal, I can call my grandkids 'nincompoops' but I will have it out with others who call them nincompoops. It is simple logic, we have certain liberties with our 'OWN" but outsiders need not have those immunities. There is another aspect of this derogatory name-referencing that seems permissible. Let me explain. In 1978, I umpired my final baseball game for East St. Louis high school at Jones' Park, East St. Louis, Illinois. We moved shortly thereafter to Jacksonville, Illinois. East St. Louis' baseball coach was a Black man named, Arthur May. After this particular game, Coach May shook my hand as he handed me my check and said, "Mel, you worked a 'nigger-game." The comment was meant as a compliment for umpiring (calling a consistent strike zone) a solid game. I suppose his expression of endorsement was in his bestowing an 'honorary' membership to the brotherhood on me.
I personally dislike negative words but like many, I have been guilty of using them. I once had an Edwardsville basketball player with an Italian background; we all called him 'Wap.' It was and remains his 'nickname to this day. While coaching, I never allowed my Black players to use the 'N' word
Though our constitution speaks clearly to man's rights considering race, religion and sexual persuasion, the laws cannot legislate appreciation or tolerance for people. Many folks may act out prejudicial attitudes. My hope is with the passing of generations my great-grandchildren kids will see a world of complete assimilation and accompanying tolerance. I recently read a school paper written by one of my middle school grandkids which address race and religious tolerance; nicely done even if the kid is a nincompoop.
PS. #1 Cook a couple links of smoked sausage drain off excess grease; put the sausage with the Bavarian sauerkraut and cook longer; serve with mashed potatoes.
PS #2 Check out my blog tomorrow, I will tell you of a funny incident which, occurred during that East St. Louis baseball game.
I personally dislike negative words but like many, I have been guilty of using them. I once had an Edwardsville basketball player with an Italian background; we all called him 'Wap.' It was and remains his 'nickname to this day. While coaching, I never allowed my Black players to use the 'N' word
Though our constitution speaks clearly to man's rights considering race, religion and sexual persuasion, the laws cannot legislate appreciation or tolerance for people. Many folks may act out prejudicial attitudes. My hope is with the passing of generations my great-grandchildren kids will see a world of complete assimilation and accompanying tolerance. I recently read a school paper written by one of my middle school grandkids which address race and religious tolerance; nicely done even if the kid is a nincompoop.
PS. #1 Cook a couple links of smoked sausage drain off excess grease; put the sausage with the Bavarian sauerkraut and cook longer; serve with mashed potatoes.
PS #2 Check out my blog tomorrow, I will tell you of a funny incident which, occurred during that East St. Louis baseball game.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Oh, You Don't Think So!
Blah, Blah, Blah and on and on; I don't know about you readers but there are some debates I have grown weary hearing. Enough already with the 'same-sex' marriage conversation. It is an example of hypocritical American gobbledygook. I heard a gent recently comment that he thought two guys raising a kid would 'screw-up' the kid; how's that heterosexual parenting thing working these days?
We are a country of 'bumpkins' wanting for ourselves and blaming the government if we don't get that which we want but others get it. We complain about taxes but wish for our potholes on our street to be fixed. Some folks go nuts over a woman's right to have an abortion but clamor to be first in line to view a capital punishment. Many people point fingers and blame unemployment problems and excessive welfare expenditures on "lazy dark skinned folks" while ignoring the fact the white-ass farmers benefit from one of the largest government welfare giveaways!!
We lower academic standards thus allowing more bumper-sticker purchases claiming the some one's kid is an 'honor' student. This past month while attending three graduations, I noted that their is a growing number of high school senior classes over the years producing multiple valedictorians; a joke! It never ceases to amaze me how high schools have so many students with 5.2 GPA's in a school with a 4.0 GPA scale. We seem to be solving some of our parental concerns with education: We lower academic standards so our kids stand a better chance of being on honor roll and we fire coaches more readily who yell at kids or play the 'wrong' kids.
I do find some humor in this journey; Anglo-Saxons came to this country seeking religious freedoms. They set aside their Christ teachings for a bit while they cheated the Native Indians and eventually ran those good for nothing 'Redskins" off OUR land, which we could one day sing about sea-to-shinning sea and ask God to bless it. Of course, we needed to go to another country and capture and enslave Black-folks so we could have our hard labor done by lesser humans while the God's chosen white guys could sip mint juleps on the front porch veranda. Had that damn Republican President Lincoln not freed those 'darkies,' we wouldn't need to pretend that we don't want Mexicans cutting our grass in our gated communities.
Last night, I was putting away lawn chairs and cushions when my neighbor yelled across the fence, "Hey Mel, I hope you know that President Obama is going to cause you to become poor." I hollered back, "AGAIN?! Hell. being poor is like riding a bike; once you get he hang of it , it's NO BIG DEAL!"
Y'all have a nice weekend and if you find yourself nearby Decatur, stop for a spell and we'll have a 'cold-one' as we chat on the backyard swing.
We are a country of 'bumpkins' wanting for ourselves and blaming the government if we don't get that which we want but others get it. We complain about taxes but wish for our potholes on our street to be fixed. Some folks go nuts over a woman's right to have an abortion but clamor to be first in line to view a capital punishment. Many people point fingers and blame unemployment problems and excessive welfare expenditures on "lazy dark skinned folks" while ignoring the fact the white-ass farmers benefit from one of the largest government welfare giveaways!!
We lower academic standards thus allowing more bumper-sticker purchases claiming the some one's kid is an 'honor' student. This past month while attending three graduations, I noted that their is a growing number of high school senior classes over the years producing multiple valedictorians; a joke! It never ceases to amaze me how high schools have so many students with 5.2 GPA's in a school with a 4.0 GPA scale. We seem to be solving some of our parental concerns with education: We lower academic standards so our kids stand a better chance of being on honor roll and we fire coaches more readily who yell at kids or play the 'wrong' kids.
I do find some humor in this journey; Anglo-Saxons came to this country seeking religious freedoms. They set aside their Christ teachings for a bit while they cheated the Native Indians and eventually ran those good for nothing 'Redskins" off OUR land, which we could one day sing about sea-to-shinning sea and ask God to bless it. Of course, we needed to go to another country and capture and enslave Black-folks so we could have our hard labor done by lesser humans while the God's chosen white guys could sip mint juleps on the front porch veranda. Had that damn Republican President Lincoln not freed those 'darkies,' we wouldn't need to pretend that we don't want Mexicans cutting our grass in our gated communities.
Last night, I was putting away lawn chairs and cushions when my neighbor yelled across the fence, "Hey Mel, I hope you know that President Obama is going to cause you to become poor." I hollered back, "AGAIN?! Hell. being poor is like riding a bike; once you get he hang of it , it's NO BIG DEAL!"
Y'all have a nice weekend and if you find yourself nearby Decatur, stop for a spell and we'll have a 'cold-one' as we chat on the backyard swing.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Talk to Me
While in my doctor's office waiting room the other day, I noticed a number of patients using the 'automated' machine to sign-in rather than engage the receptionists. That machine has been in the waiting room for at least six-years and I have yet to use it. The workers don't even bother to suggest the process to me any longer; they know better.
Look, I must pump my own gasoline because I wish to drive my auto and no one else will pump the gas. However, I still have a choice on a couple of matters and I intend to hold fast refusing to use automation, which replaces a salaried employee. My local Wal Mart store (during mid-day hours) now has more 'self-service' checkout lanes open than cashier lines. I refuse to hunt for my food in aisles, check myself out and bag my own food...for goodness sakes, I was a grocery delivery boy for three years, which means, I once 'hunted' for others' groceries, boxed the items and got into an automobile, drove to the customer's house and carried the food into their kitchen.
I first noticed this onslaught of impersonal contact-communication with telephone recording devices several years back. It began with answering machine voices giving instructions before you might possibly speak to a person. Just yesterday, I telephoned a number which was given to me to request a filing-form as part of a class-action lawsuit against the government involving a defective roofing product. I gave the following information 'using the touch number pads:' Name, address, telephone number, year of purchase, installing company, color of shingle and a description of deterioration of the product; I never spoke to another human being! I hope I get the filing papers.
I find this kind of modern day interaction leaving me wanting and frustrated. The reality however, is that my grown children seem to make the adjustments and my grandchildren know only these ways. One of the kids ask me a few weeks ago if I would consider 'texting' correspondence with the kids and grandkids. I said, "Absolutely NO!" When pressed on the matter, I explained, "If you wish to interact with me, TALK to me." We seem to be on the same page and I will say, the kids telephone frequently; it is wonderful 'HEARING' their voices. I hope that they will one day share that feeling.
Look, I must pump my own gasoline because I wish to drive my auto and no one else will pump the gas. However, I still have a choice on a couple of matters and I intend to hold fast refusing to use automation, which replaces a salaried employee. My local Wal Mart store (during mid-day hours) now has more 'self-service' checkout lanes open than cashier lines. I refuse to hunt for my food in aisles, check myself out and bag my own food...for goodness sakes, I was a grocery delivery boy for three years, which means, I once 'hunted' for others' groceries, boxed the items and got into an automobile, drove to the customer's house and carried the food into their kitchen.
I first noticed this onslaught of impersonal contact-communication with telephone recording devices several years back. It began with answering machine voices giving instructions before you might possibly speak to a person. Just yesterday, I telephoned a number which was given to me to request a filing-form as part of a class-action lawsuit against the government involving a defective roofing product. I gave the following information 'using the touch number pads:' Name, address, telephone number, year of purchase, installing company, color of shingle and a description of deterioration of the product; I never spoke to another human being! I hope I get the filing papers.
I find this kind of modern day interaction leaving me wanting and frustrated. The reality however, is that my grown children seem to make the adjustments and my grandchildren know only these ways. One of the kids ask me a few weeks ago if I would consider 'texting' correspondence with the kids and grandkids. I said, "Absolutely NO!" When pressed on the matter, I explained, "If you wish to interact with me, TALK to me." We seem to be on the same page and I will say, the kids telephone frequently; it is wonderful 'HEARING' their voices. I hope that they will one day share that feeling.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
A Trigger Moment
I suppose it could be my age and the realization that the sand-in-the-hourglass is disproportionately located at the bottom or then it could simply be a longing for relationships gone by; your guess is as good as mine. Nonetheless, my emotions often times are just beneath the surface and some of the strangest things can trigger those feelings. Let me explain. Monday afternoon, my wife and I headed for St. Louis to use one of four-Cardinals' games previously purchased tickets.. We arrived early enough to have diner at Mike Shannon's Restaurant before heading to the stadium to check out the 'Birds and Diamondbacks.
Our seats are located in the second row down the left field foul line about twenty yards from the third baseman; great seats where you best pay attention to line drives. Seated at my right were two young boys who came 'ready' with baseball gloves, Cardinals' jerseys and caps; the older boy was perhaps 11 and his younger cousin likely nine years-old. The elder lad, of course had greater concentration powers on the unfolding of the game while the 9-year old was constantly tracking the cotton-candy vendor and asking his uncle when he could make the purchase.
It was in the sixth inning when a foul ball ricocheted off the wall directly in front of our seats. The ball was retrieved by a field security guard who walked towards our seats and motioned to the 11-year boy at my right and with a wink of his eye tossed to ball into the boy's outstretched baseball mitt. The look on the kid's face was a mix of disbelief, excitement and uncontrolled smiling. He kept trading glances at the 'prize' and others around him as if to seek ownership confirmation from somebody--anybody! At one split second his eyes met mine and I immediately felt a choking in my throat and warm tears swell in these old eyes. I had an instant flash back to the year 1950. My Dad took me to old Sportsman Park in North St. Louis where the Cardinals and the St. Louis Browns both played their home games. For those who may not remember, the 'Browns' were an American League team and would be sold to ownership in Baltimore...and now you know the rest of that story; Orioles!
On that game day, sixty-three years ago, Dad and I arrived at the ballpark early enough to 'watch batting practice.' Unnoticed by me while I was gawking at the sights, my Dad bolted from his seat and ran towards a foul ball, which he garnered and brought to me. He called out my name and flipped the ball at me and I caught it in my 'Mart Marion' (Mr. Shortstop) glove.
Through blurry warm eyes, I saw my Father's smiling face two nights ago at Busch Stadium and I felt that 'little boy inside;' it was special once AGAIN!
Our seats are located in the second row down the left field foul line about twenty yards from the third baseman; great seats where you best pay attention to line drives. Seated at my right were two young boys who came 'ready' with baseball gloves, Cardinals' jerseys and caps; the older boy was perhaps 11 and his younger cousin likely nine years-old. The elder lad, of course had greater concentration powers on the unfolding of the game while the 9-year old was constantly tracking the cotton-candy vendor and asking his uncle when he could make the purchase.
It was in the sixth inning when a foul ball ricocheted off the wall directly in front of our seats. The ball was retrieved by a field security guard who walked towards our seats and motioned to the 11-year boy at my right and with a wink of his eye tossed to ball into the boy's outstretched baseball mitt. The look on the kid's face was a mix of disbelief, excitement and uncontrolled smiling. He kept trading glances at the 'prize' and others around him as if to seek ownership confirmation from somebody--anybody! At one split second his eyes met mine and I immediately felt a choking in my throat and warm tears swell in these old eyes. I had an instant flash back to the year 1950. My Dad took me to old Sportsman Park in North St. Louis where the Cardinals and the St. Louis Browns both played their home games. For those who may not remember, the 'Browns' were an American League team and would be sold to ownership in Baltimore...and now you know the rest of that story; Orioles!
On that game day, sixty-three years ago, Dad and I arrived at the ballpark early enough to 'watch batting practice.' Unnoticed by me while I was gawking at the sights, my Dad bolted from his seat and ran towards a foul ball, which he garnered and brought to me. He called out my name and flipped the ball at me and I caught it in my 'Mart Marion' (Mr. Shortstop) glove.
Through blurry warm eyes, I saw my Father's smiling face two nights ago at Busch Stadium and I felt that 'little boy inside;' it was special once AGAIN!
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Is EVERYBODY Happy?
Tommy Harper was a itinerant preacher who traveled his assigned circuit in the 1940's and 1950's. His itinerant ministry finds it's roots in the John Wesley, United Methodist Church and dates back over two hundred years. Whereas you readers never heard Preacher Harper, you have most likely heard of another circuit-rider style preacher named, Billy Graham. I have heard (in person) both Tommy and Billy speak their respective sermons from the pulpit. Tommy's gig was most often a week-long revival and under the 'tent.' I heard Tommy in person more frequently than the notable Rev. Graham. The two pastors had one common theme in every sermon; they gave an 'alter-call' to the congregation; an opportunity to publicly come forward at the end of the sermon and ask God for forgiveness of sins and His merciful saving grace. I can report, factually, that Billy's alter call was and is concise and straightforward whereas, Tommy would linger on that closing hymn, "Just As I Am,"until the cows came home, and you came FORWARD!
My Methodist Church service has changed from those back-in-the-days! Very seldom does the minister invite people 'forward' To Repent and be Saved. Actually, many church service styles have changed. I would be a fool to suggest that the change is bad or good, I shall leave that determination to those who have the background, wisdom and insight on such matters. I will only acknowledge and speak to that which I observe as different than what I experienced and offer my personal speculation.
A number of years ago, I was discussing with one of my children how my maternal grandmother constantly reminded us of Jesus' redeeming grace and His triumphant return. 'Mammy,' as we affectionately called her often said to me when I was a teen going out on a date, "Moe, you know that our Savior, Jesus Christ is going to return a second time; you would not want to be doing something sinful should He chose tonight to return." My daughter was quick to surmise that my Mammy and the Methodist Church's hell fire and damnation messages were designed to frighten and intimidate and scare-the-hell out of followers. She was correct with that summation. In our current culture the Preachers wish for attendees to 'feel good' and do whatever if it makes you feel good; I suppose that's why there is coffee and donuts in the lobby. My Methodist Church (I suspect others) kinda treat parishioners as parents treat children; don't RANKLE; when it's time to pick up toys, take a bath and go to bed ask the child, "Don't you think WE should pick up OUR toys and take a bath for bedtime?"
The Methodist Church, today, and I suspect other churches would not have enough folks in the pews if today's feel good sermons' were replaced by those 'get your crap together or go to hell messages!!'
My Methodist Church service has changed from those back-in-the-days! Very seldom does the minister invite people 'forward' To Repent and be Saved. Actually, many church service styles have changed. I would be a fool to suggest that the change is bad or good, I shall leave that determination to those who have the background, wisdom and insight on such matters. I will only acknowledge and speak to that which I observe as different than what I experienced and offer my personal speculation.
A number of years ago, I was discussing with one of my children how my maternal grandmother constantly reminded us of Jesus' redeeming grace and His triumphant return. 'Mammy,' as we affectionately called her often said to me when I was a teen going out on a date, "Moe, you know that our Savior, Jesus Christ is going to return a second time; you would not want to be doing something sinful should He chose tonight to return." My daughter was quick to surmise that my Mammy and the Methodist Church's hell fire and damnation messages were designed to frighten and intimidate and scare-the-hell out of followers. She was correct with that summation. In our current culture the Preachers wish for attendees to 'feel good' and do whatever if it makes you feel good; I suppose that's why there is coffee and donuts in the lobby. My Methodist Church (I suspect others) kinda treat parishioners as parents treat children; don't RANKLE; when it's time to pick up toys, take a bath and go to bed ask the child, "Don't you think WE should pick up OUR toys and take a bath for bedtime?"
The Methodist Church, today, and I suspect other churches would not have enough folks in the pews if today's feel good sermons' were replaced by those 'get your crap together or go to hell messages!!'
Monday, June 3, 2013
And the Beat Gopes On
My wife and I attended our third consecutive Friday evening high school graduation ceremony this past weekend. This final 2013 exercise was held in the 7,200 seat auditorium at Willow Creek Community Church, Barrington, Illinois; the Barrington High School Class of 2013 was 'in the house.' Our daughter, Dawn (Husband) Shawn's son, Colin was the third grandchild to be graduated from that site. Since 762 graduates were receiving diplomas, we thought we needed to grab our preferred seats one hour ahead of the 7 P.M. schedule start. It was a good move because the pre-graduation entertainment is unbelievable by Barrington high schools extremely talented seniors; every year a new senior group delivers musical performances equal to professional entertainment.
The two and one half hour ceremony was dignified and held a couple of interesting speakers. I especially enjoyed the 'charge' given to the students by Barrington school superintendent, Tom Leonard a former coach himself. Mr. Leonard told the graduates that his favorite all-time movie was the Wizard of Oz.' He suggested that the four central characters in the film held desires that the seniors and perhaps everyone should also embrace. The Tin Man wanted a heart (give and serve and you will find your heart), the Lion wanted courage, (if you are willing to take risks you will find that courage), the Scarecrow wished for brain and Dorothy simply wanted to 'go home.' Of course, the seniors had demonstrated they had 'brains.' Going home is a normal and healthy desire for everyone; always appreciate from whence you came. If you can, dare to go home and give back something.
There was one more central character in the story Oz that was highlighted by the speaker...surly, you all remember 'TOTO;' Dorothy's dog. The key role of a dog in the graduate's life is the fact that no matter what ups and downs, successes or failures may enter your journey, each day you come home to a DOG, you will find the truest of all unconditional loves. HERE, HERE, I second that notion!!
Loren Roustio and cousin Erica Howell will enter their respective freshmen years at Illinois State University this fall while their cousin, Colin O'Keefe heads to Kalamazoo, Michigan and Western Michigan. Good luck and God speed!
.
The two and one half hour ceremony was dignified and held a couple of interesting speakers. I especially enjoyed the 'charge' given to the students by Barrington school superintendent, Tom Leonard a former coach himself. Mr. Leonard told the graduates that his favorite all-time movie was the Wizard of Oz.' He suggested that the four central characters in the film held desires that the seniors and perhaps everyone should also embrace. The Tin Man wanted a heart (give and serve and you will find your heart), the Lion wanted courage, (if you are willing to take risks you will find that courage), the Scarecrow wished for brain and Dorothy simply wanted to 'go home.' Of course, the seniors had demonstrated they had 'brains.' Going home is a normal and healthy desire for everyone; always appreciate from whence you came. If you can, dare to go home and give back something.
There was one more central character in the story Oz that was highlighted by the speaker...surly, you all remember 'TOTO;' Dorothy's dog. The key role of a dog in the graduate's life is the fact that no matter what ups and downs, successes or failures may enter your journey, each day you come home to a DOG, you will find the truest of all unconditional loves. HERE, HERE, I second that notion!!
Loren Roustio and cousin Erica Howell will enter their respective freshmen years at Illinois State University this fall while their cousin, Colin O'Keefe heads to Kalamazoo, Michigan and Western Michigan. Good luck and God speed!
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