MEMORIES . . .

Memories . . .

Just had a chance to watch the ninth inning of the game between the Yankees and the White Sox at Field of Dreams. The television audience was the largest for a game since 2005. Imagine – 16 years ago.

The memories took me back a couple of weeks ago when we watched the Rays vs. the Red Sox in Tampa. The Rays won and took over first place in the division. I love watching baseball in person. The excitement that runs through a crowd when the Rays hit a home run. High fives all around. You do not care who you are high fiving. Their politics. Their financial status. Their color. Their background. We celebrate together, an example of what we need to do much more of as Americans – the land of opportunity when a little boy can grow up to be a big-league player.

Watching the game also took me back to my first big league game. My dad, brother and I went to the old Comiskey Park and watched the Yankees and White Sox. I was in 2nd grade. I still remember some of the players. Mantle, Maris, Berra, Richardson, Pepitone, Kubek. Not sure if Whitey threw that night or not. For the Sox: Aparicio, Fox, Landis, Robinson, Lollar. Maybe Pizarro or Wynn threw that night – don’t remember.

I loved playing baseball and love to attend games if we don’t let the politics and other issues get in the way.

Memories . . ..

The Fall of Saigon, April 1975. I was just 20 with a year-old baby. The draft ended December 1972 – six months after high school graduation. In the 1973 draft lottery my number was 312. By 1975 I knew I REALLY would not be drafted. Trying to figure out how to survive with the family of three people in 1975 was tough enough. I made $5230 in 1973. In 1974 I made $6070 but that vaulted to $9278 in ’75.

I hate to admit it now but my focus in April 1975 was simply survival.

Memories . . ..

Dave. I love Facebook – but for so many reasons other than most people use Facebook. Dave was my best man when getting married in 1973. Over the years we lost touch. Too many reasons to go into. One of those twelve beer stories . . . that by the time you get to the beginning you forget what you were talking about.

In high school we lived less than a mile apart. My curfew was midnight. So was David’s. I had the car and could drop him off at 11:58 and come screaming into the driveway at 11:59, run in the house, and announce to my mom that it wasn’t midnight yet.

Two or three years ago we connected on Facebook messenger. I’m sure it was over 40 years since we talked.

We now talk every couple of weeks. In the next month or three MK and I will fly into St. Louis and meet him and wife, Ann. Can’t wait.

So many kids, from our high school class of over 550 at Rockford (IL) West, still communicate on Facebook. It will make attendance at our 50th Reunion next year much more memorable because of the people we will be able to locate.

Memories . . .

Looking back on how MK and I dated, for some time, from Tampa to Los Angeles . . . then our engagement - our marriage - and our honeymoon I have amazing memories. How many people can say they took communion at St. Peter in Paul's Cathedral in Rome when the Pope (yes, THE Pope), was saying Mass and was the person who blessed the Host? That was our first full day in Rome. Could it get better? What a FAB honeymoon.

Memories . . .

Of working for some of the BEST, as well as worst, bosses on the planet. Each one taught me very different lessons I used in my career.

Memories . . .

Besides living in Florida two miles from daughter, Jae, we are building a house in Ohio by several of our grandchildren. Believe it or not it is less than 4 or 5 miles from where I lived in Ohio when moving there in 1981. It will not be hard to help MK learn the roads – I remember them.

God gave us memories to help us remember the great times of our lives. The blessings we have enjoyed. The smiles. The wonderful people in our lives.

Hopefully you remember the wonderful memories in your life as you read this!