On Being Old--4 Minor League Baseball

Following sports teams has not been of interest to me for many years. My avidness goes back to the “Hey! Hey!” days of Jack Brickhouse while watching Ernie Banks and Ron Santo. Some of you may ask, “Who are they?” They are the Chicago Cubs of my youth.


Lately I have had the desire to see a minor league baseball game [no smart remarks, since the Cubs have been mimicking the minor leagues this year]. So, I called my cousin Stan about going to a Kane County Cougar’s game. We settled on a Sunday game on 22Aug10. Mikie, Stan’s wife, Stan, Rosemary, and our son Walt went to the game.

The day was brilliantly sunny. Not knowing what to expect, I entered the stadium and was immediately impressed with the professional look of the surroundings. We took our seats, which were alongside the third base dugout, two rows from the field. I reeled at the ticket price – not much more than a hot dog at Wrigley Field.

The game itself was most entertaining, and I enjoyed watching the enthusiasm of these truly “boys of summer”. As an additional perk, some event occurred between innings – someone tossed foam rubber baseballs to the fans; big wheel races for the kids were held from third to first base; singing contests; and of course Myron Noodleman. He cavorted with the ballplayers and roamed the stands carrying on with the crowd around him.

And so I accomplished one of my summer bucket-list activities. Fresh air, sun, family and friends, and entertainment all combined for a most enjoyable piece of candy.

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 48

Mom went into St. Matthew’s Center for Care a few months ago. Prior to her move, the family downsized her belongings from a one bedroom apartment at the Heritage to a studio apartment. Now we were faced with another downsizing. Literally all her belongings had to be disposed.

For a couple of months Rosemary and I lived with all her things in our family room and garage. A woman’s history of nearly 80 years was strewn throughout our house. We rummaged through photographs and clothes, pots and pans, bric-a-brac and jewelry. What a sad series of events.

A decision to conduct a garage sale was made, and we began to sort, label and tag items. Knowing Mom was at the nursing facility made the task all the more difficult.

The eventful day came. All the things were lined up in the garage and driveway. People arrived early and began to sort through everything. My heart twisted as I watched these strangers pawing over my Mother’s stuff, even though I knew we had to do what we did.

Of course, those people who bought and sold items were the first to arrive. But throughout the two days we witnessed people in need pick out those items too expensive for them to buy in the big box stores. And so it went.

Where is today’s candy going to come from, I wondered.

During the lulls we met with people who had stories to tell. The elderly, Polish man sat and talked about his captivity in a POW camp during WWII. He fought with a resistance unit in Poland before his capture. A man hobbled along the tables and then discussed his heart surgery and knee replacement with us. A young lady with her mother was off to college in New York and needed things for her apartment. A retired gentleman who scoured neighborhood sales for old time radios and cameras for his hobby.

So it went from story to story. By the end of the weekend I felt much happier knowing that many of Mom’s things helped people less fortunate than we. At the same time I was able to amass some monies to help defray a little of Mom’s expenses.

I discovered my candy time and again over the course of those two days.
Ciao