A Memory From My Son

This is probably unorthodox, but I'm doing it anyway. My son wrote a post in his blog that moved me to tears and I have copied it to my blog. It melted down the years so quickly, leaving me with such a real and visual memory. Rich didn't wear a "derby hat"...that's a twelve year old's memory, and that gave me a chuckle. I do remember the "toss", however. Michael joined his high school baseball team as a senior (I was sure he'd never make it on the team waiting for so long to try out). To my surprise, he was voted "Most Valuable Player". Rich and I would have been proud no matter what, but Rich's feelings (though quiet) did not go unnoticed by me. He was as proud as a peacock. I don't know the name of the hat he did wear, but I remember it. Below is one man's memory of the Father he so adored.

Rich was proud of all his kids. I celebrated my eldest's son's youngest daughter's 21st birthday last weekend. He and his wonderful wife have done an amazing job raising all three of his girls.

Milestones are always double edged swords. I wish Rich could meet her, now. She's such a sweet young woman (had trouble getting the word woman out). I wish he could see all three of his kids, now. He'd be so proud of them, and of his grandchildren. "If wishes were horses, then beggars could ride."

I love to hear my kids talk about and remember Rich. He was a very, very special man and I'm so glad they had him for their Father even if it wasn't for as long as they would have wanted it to be.

"Throwing the Ball

I am sitting here watching the Atlanta Braves tonight.  For some reason, a funny memory of my little league days popped into my head.  When my dad and I played catch - he would catch the ball in his glove then flip the ball up in the air and catch it with his throwing hand.  Normally, you would reach your throwing hand into your glove because it is quicker and safer.  But my dad being laid back would casually flip the ball into the air when playing catch with me.

Well, as an impressionable 12 year old, I learned to catch and flip the ball from watching my dad.  I distinctly remember my little league coach trying to break me of that habit because my dad's technique took longer to throw the ball to first, so this gave the batter/runner an advantage.

It occurred to me just how much time we spent shooting baskets in the driveway and up at the elementary school.  I walked Bogey up to the school and all of the basketball goals are gone now but the blacktop is still there.  There were 6 separate goals and I can remember the one we preferred to shoot at.  I can remember what the basketball felt like and where we used to park the car.  I remember the noise the ball made when it bounced and how I would run from the car to the blacktop.  I remember how my dad used to dress - he would wear a derby hat most of the time. Those are wonderfully innocent memories our time together."

...Michael

Michael, today

Michael with his eldest when she was little. I just happened to scan this photo not too long ago.

Michael with his Youngest last year.

On another note, little Mary has had a low white blood count and was running a fever. Test results come back tomorrow. She has an awful fear that the Leukemia has returned even with her Mom's reassurance, her own fear hidden. One of Mary's little friends from the hospital had a relapse, so she is sure it's what's happening to her. I only mention this so that we remember that the end of chemo is not the end of worry. There are the adjustments that take place before the joy of life can begin. My thoughts are with her, of course, and I hope yours will be, too.

What? A post without a picture of Jack? Never happen.:)