"Elephant in the room" (as described by Wikipedia) is an English metaphorical idiom for an obvious truth that is being ignored or goes unaddressed. It is based on the idea that an elephant in a room would be impossible to overlook; thus, those who pretend the elephant is not there have chosen to avoid dealing with the looming big issue.
One of those issues is the Orphan Epidemic. You've probably seen the pictures and heard the stories of their plight. The bad news is that it’s often easy for us to turn away from dirty, snotty, malnourished kids. The good news is that my middle son is addressing this particular “elephant in the room” through a non-profit organization called Patch Our Planet. He saw a problem that is largely underserved and felt compelled to do something about it.
According to most estimates, there are in excess of 140 million orphans worldwide. The population of Russia is slightly under 142 million people, to provide some context. Enormous numbers of children are in the streets of our countries each year, with no direction and no hope. Is it any wonder that sex trafficking, drugs, and homelessness enter into and profoundly affect these young lives?
My son founded Patch Our Planet with the belief that there is only one lasting solution, or patch, to the Orphan Epidemic, and that is through churches. There was a time when churches took the lead in this crisis. But at some point that church leadership diminished, while at the same time the orphan problem was growing exponentially larger. That is what Patch Our Planet has been chartered to do: to provide sustaining leadership. It exists to equip and educate churches to care for orphans here and around the world. It sees a world where every church in every community is caring for every orphan. That’s leadership! And that’s working toward a sensible solution to a large and seemingly intractable problem.
How exactly does it work? Patch Our Planet has developed two strategies for the local church. There is a Local Orphan Strategy (foster care) and a Global Orphan Strategy (world orphans). It works in collaboration with the leaders of churches to fit the strategy into the church's overall vision.
How can you help? You can imagine trying to start a non-profit organization in this economic environment. Launching any type of venture at any given time is a daunting task, so there must be a passion that underlies the organization. I see that passion in my son's organization. There is an elephant in the room and my son has chosen to step forward and do something about it. He can use your help, along with the millions of orphans’ lives he has been inspired to improve. Here are some ways you can learn more:
Website: www.patchourplanet.org
Donate: http://patchourplanet.blogspot.com/p/our-inspiration_25.html
Follow on Facebook: Patch Our Planet
Monday, September 26, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A Marine Hero
Today former Marine Corps Corporal Dakota Meyer was presented the nation’s highest military award for combat valor, the Medal of Honor, by President Obama in a White House ceremony. Corporal Meyer’s Medal of Honor award is the first to a living Marine since the Vietnam War.
Disobeying an order to remain clear of a deadly ambush zone, Corporal Meyer moved forward in a Humvee driven by a fellow Marine to provide covering fire and to also evacuate several wounded against what was right on the verge of being an overpowering enemy force. Corporal Meyer entered the lethal space four separate times in the process of rescuing 36 Afghan and American troops, several of whom he personally carried to the Humvee for evacuation to the rear. After already performing well above the normal call of duty, Corporal Meyer learned that four of his mates were still in the ambush area. Making a fifth trip, Corporal Meyer again braved withering fire only to find that his three fellow Marines and a Navy corpsmen had been killed in the vicious firefight. “It’s what Marines do,” he replied when asked why he moved forward when others stayed back.
At the time, Corporal Meyer was 21 years old.
Like other Medal of Honor awardees, Corporal Meyer insists he is hardly a hero. He says he will accept and wear the medal to honor the Marines he served with, especially his four buddies who died. “The worst day of my life,” he says of his profound sense of loss. “I feel like I failed them and failed their families.”
My gosh. A failure?
This young man made five trips into what was a hot combat hell, with 36 men alive today based directly upon what he did. He drove out under the threat of likely violent death five different times. He tore into the enemy with the ferocity of an enraged United States Marine, the flashing of his weapon the last sight many of his Taliban ambushers probably ever saw. He left his position several times to bring wounded to his vehicle. He himself was wounded. He left no one on the field. All of this after having been ordered to stay put.
A failure?
No. A warrior.
One hears the term “warrior” these days to describe athletes and others who play games. The word’s use is widespread and gratuitous, much like the young use “amazing” to describe anyone or anything only slightly above ordinariness. To see an NFL wide receiver thumping his chest after a routinely “amazing” play and hear him characterized as a “warrior” is ludicrous when compared to a real warrior like Corporal Dakota Meyer.
That our nation produces such courageous, selfless people as Dakota Meyer should make us ALL better. You have the gratitude of this former Marine for what you did and who you are.
Semper Fi, my young brother.
Disobeying an order to remain clear of a deadly ambush zone, Corporal Meyer moved forward in a Humvee driven by a fellow Marine to provide covering fire and to also evacuate several wounded against what was right on the verge of being an overpowering enemy force. Corporal Meyer entered the lethal space four separate times in the process of rescuing 36 Afghan and American troops, several of whom he personally carried to the Humvee for evacuation to the rear. After already performing well above the normal call of duty, Corporal Meyer learned that four of his mates were still in the ambush area. Making a fifth trip, Corporal Meyer again braved withering fire only to find that his three fellow Marines and a Navy corpsmen had been killed in the vicious firefight. “It’s what Marines do,” he replied when asked why he moved forward when others stayed back.
At the time, Corporal Meyer was 21 years old.
Like other Medal of Honor awardees, Corporal Meyer insists he is hardly a hero. He says he will accept and wear the medal to honor the Marines he served with, especially his four buddies who died. “The worst day of my life,” he says of his profound sense of loss. “I feel like I failed them and failed their families.”
My gosh. A failure?
This young man made five trips into what was a hot combat hell, with 36 men alive today based directly upon what he did. He drove out under the threat of likely violent death five different times. He tore into the enemy with the ferocity of an enraged United States Marine, the flashing of his weapon the last sight many of his Taliban ambushers probably ever saw. He left his position several times to bring wounded to his vehicle. He himself was wounded. He left no one on the field. All of this after having been ordered to stay put.
A failure?
No. A warrior.
One hears the term “warrior” these days to describe athletes and others who play games. The word’s use is widespread and gratuitous, much like the young use “amazing” to describe anyone or anything only slightly above ordinariness. To see an NFL wide receiver thumping his chest after a routinely “amazing” play and hear him characterized as a “warrior” is ludicrous when compared to a real warrior like Corporal Dakota Meyer.
That our nation produces such courageous, selfless people as Dakota Meyer should make us ALL better. You have the gratitude of this former Marine for what you did and who you are.
Semper Fi, my young brother.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Random Thoughts . . .
All of this stock-market volatility makes my stomach churn. As if there’s not enough volatility in the world already.
I wonder how society will pay the doctor and hospital bills of the Boomer generation for the next 25 years? Will there be enough physicians? Enough beds? Enough diapers? Just send the bills to our kids.
Speaking of kids: I’m not exactly sure when the lines crossed, but my three kids now teach me more than I teach them. They think very well on their own, and they know a lot about life and parenting and how the world might work better. I listen carefully, because inevitably I learn something useful. They pastor large churches, start non-profits, raise kids with their spouses, and run small businesses on the side. It’s not enough that they’ve given us wonderful grandkids, but now I can quietly listen and learn. And I do.
Speaking of grandkids: They are one of life’s grandest gifts, to be sure, each one a unique little treasure that keeps on giving and enriching. I’m thankful beyond measure that I’ve lived long enough to receive such a bountiful blessing.
Speaking of living long enough: The recent helicopter crash that took 30 of our finest reinforces the truism that our freedom comes with a price. They were all dedicated and brave young men, their lives cut short and their families devastated over such a profound loss. We should be made better by their sacrifice.
Try as I might, I can maintain a salad diet for only one week, tops. Then it’s gotta be Mexican. Or Chinese. Or Italian. Or whatever.
I’m a Coca-Cola guy. Diet Coke, to be specific. I live in Atlanta, so Pepsi has absolutely no utility in my life. Not now, not ever. I ordered a Diet Coke and a banana split from room service several years ago, and the guy on the other end of the phone started laughing. Hey, a guy’s got his preferences, right?
Speaking of Atlanta: The summer Georgia heat has been brutal of late. Hi-90s in the shade. Could it be that Al Gore is right? By the way, Al, thanks for inventing the internet. Keeps me inside in the air-conditioned cool, ordering stuff from Amazon and monitoring the stock-market swings.
Kudos to the Atlanta Braves. We won’t likely catch the Phillies in the regular season, but we’ll get ‘em in the postseason.
That’s it for now.
Bye.
I wonder how society will pay the doctor and hospital bills of the Boomer generation for the next 25 years? Will there be enough physicians? Enough beds? Enough diapers? Just send the bills to our kids.
Speaking of kids: I’m not exactly sure when the lines crossed, but my three kids now teach me more than I teach them. They think very well on their own, and they know a lot about life and parenting and how the world might work better. I listen carefully, because inevitably I learn something useful. They pastor large churches, start non-profits, raise kids with their spouses, and run small businesses on the side. It’s not enough that they’ve given us wonderful grandkids, but now I can quietly listen and learn. And I do.
Speaking of grandkids: They are one of life’s grandest gifts, to be sure, each one a unique little treasure that keeps on giving and enriching. I’m thankful beyond measure that I’ve lived long enough to receive such a bountiful blessing.
Speaking of living long enough: The recent helicopter crash that took 30 of our finest reinforces the truism that our freedom comes with a price. They were all dedicated and brave young men, their lives cut short and their families devastated over such a profound loss. We should be made better by their sacrifice.
Try as I might, I can maintain a salad diet for only one week, tops. Then it’s gotta be Mexican. Or Chinese. Or Italian. Or whatever.
I’m a Coca-Cola guy. Diet Coke, to be specific. I live in Atlanta, so Pepsi has absolutely no utility in my life. Not now, not ever. I ordered a Diet Coke and a banana split from room service several years ago, and the guy on the other end of the phone started laughing. Hey, a guy’s got his preferences, right?
Speaking of Atlanta: The summer Georgia heat has been brutal of late. Hi-90s in the shade. Could it be that Al Gore is right? By the way, Al, thanks for inventing the internet. Keeps me inside in the air-conditioned cool, ordering stuff from Amazon and monitoring the stock-market swings.
Kudos to the Atlanta Braves. We won’t likely catch the Phillies in the regular season, but we’ll get ‘em in the postseason.
That’s it for now.
Bye.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
America in August, 2021
The Dow closed July at 4,512, up from June’s 4,314.
The U.S debt increased to $28 trillion, or 167% of GDP, at the end of Q2, 2021. Members of the Democrat, Republican, Tea Party, and Compassion Now! political parties reached agreement on the debt increase after a contentious debate.
The U.S and Greece entered into a trade agreement; terms and estimates weren’t immediately available.
The U.S. National Health Services announced that a Six-Sigma study concluded that senior citizens over the age of 66 years, 7 months, 6 weeks, who required orthopedic surgery, would henceforth be outsourced to Cuba. The NHS organ-transplant czar stated there would be no changes in the policy of outsourcing transplant surgeries to Thailand. An airline transport-shuttle contract was awarded to Baghdad Air.
Pakistan threatened a nuclear exchange with India over a border dispute. Iran warned the U.S to avoid intervention or risk Iranian nukes against all 50 American states and Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico responded that Iran would consequently risk a “full retaliatory response launched from San Juan.” Guyana threatened to nuke Suriname over the expanding drug war. The U.S. Secretary of Defense, at a press conference on the subject of proliferation, shrugged and said, “What do you want me to do, guys?”
College football players remained on strike for the 6th consecutive week. The College Football Players Association remained adamant that 20% of all athletic revenue be allocated for football players’ salaries, estimated at $188,000 per scholarship athlete. Women athletes are expected to sue. One prominent Southeast program said its athletes are unhappy with what they assert would be a serious cut in pay. “C’mon y’all, this is America!” signs appeared on campus.
Publishing news reflects the continuing migration to E-books. Only 1,700 hardbound books were sold in the nation’s 30 remaining book stores in June.
The Army plans to debut a new pink beret by Fall. The new headwear will be optional for Special Ops personnel.
Ford announced that its new 2022 model Colossus will be rated at 66 MPG with GPS, no-charge batteries, hands-free phone and texting, anti-theft warning identification with optional fragmentation devices, and armor plating for urban driving. Car loans at the prime rate of 13.75% are available for qualifying customers.
The TSA announced that it will no longer need any mechanical screening devices. “We can simply tell by looking at ‘em,” is the new advertised slogan. The TSA workforce has been augmented by employees of the now defunct postal service.
The Rolling Stones announced a new U.S. tour, beginning in November and sponsored by Viagra.
The U.S debt increased to $28 trillion, or 167% of GDP, at the end of Q2, 2021. Members of the Democrat, Republican, Tea Party, and Compassion Now! political parties reached agreement on the debt increase after a contentious debate.
The U.S and Greece entered into a trade agreement; terms and estimates weren’t immediately available.
The U.S. National Health Services announced that a Six-Sigma study concluded that senior citizens over the age of 66 years, 7 months, 6 weeks, who required orthopedic surgery, would henceforth be outsourced to Cuba. The NHS organ-transplant czar stated there would be no changes in the policy of outsourcing transplant surgeries to Thailand. An airline transport-shuttle contract was awarded to Baghdad Air.
Pakistan threatened a nuclear exchange with India over a border dispute. Iran warned the U.S to avoid intervention or risk Iranian nukes against all 50 American states and Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico responded that Iran would consequently risk a “full retaliatory response launched from San Juan.” Guyana threatened to nuke Suriname over the expanding drug war. The U.S. Secretary of Defense, at a press conference on the subject of proliferation, shrugged and said, “What do you want me to do, guys?”
College football players remained on strike for the 6th consecutive week. The College Football Players Association remained adamant that 20% of all athletic revenue be allocated for football players’ salaries, estimated at $188,000 per scholarship athlete. Women athletes are expected to sue. One prominent Southeast program said its athletes are unhappy with what they assert would be a serious cut in pay. “C’mon y’all, this is America!” signs appeared on campus.
Publishing news reflects the continuing migration to E-books. Only 1,700 hardbound books were sold in the nation’s 30 remaining book stores in June.
The Army plans to debut a new pink beret by Fall. The new headwear will be optional for Special Ops personnel.
Ford announced that its new 2022 model Colossus will be rated at 66 MPG with GPS, no-charge batteries, hands-free phone and texting, anti-theft warning identification with optional fragmentation devices, and armor plating for urban driving. Car loans at the prime rate of 13.75% are available for qualifying customers.
The TSA announced that it will no longer need any mechanical screening devices. “We can simply tell by looking at ‘em,” is the new advertised slogan. The TSA workforce has been augmented by employees of the now defunct postal service.
The Rolling Stones announced a new U.S. tour, beginning in November and sponsored by Viagra.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Is Loyalty Dead?
When I saw recently where Tiger Woods had fired his caddie of twelve years, I started thinking about the concept of loyalty. Is it disappearing from business and personal relationships? There are those who argue that indeed it’s long gone, as anachronistic and outdated as a music store.
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to visit a Midwest-based company who had been awarded a prestigious Malcolm Baldrige National Quality Award. Over an hour’s presentation, the company’s manufacturing representative made a point of mentioning (and then twice repeating) the fact that “loyalty in business is dead.” I wondered why he embraced such a notion, so I raised my hand.
Me: “Are you married?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Have you ever played on a sports team?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Were you ever in the armed forces?”
Him (proudly): “Yes, Army airborne.”
Me: “Do you force your employees to wear those blue t-shirts, the ones with the company logo?”
Him: “No, of course not.”
Me: “Doesn’t it demonstrate some degree of loyalty that they wear those shirts?”
Him: “Not really.”
Me: “If they wore your chief competitor’s t-shirt, would you consider that disloyal?”
Him (smiling): “They can wear whatever they want.”
Me: “Isn’t the business world really just a cluster of personal relationships, not unlike relationships in marriage or sports teams or military units?”
Him: “I suppose so, yeah.”
Me: “Then do you really buy that drivel about loyalty being dead in business?”
Him (pausing): “Yep, it just doesn’t exist anymore.”
Okay, so we disagree. And I understand that companies can’t promise lifetime or unconditional employment anymore, given the cutthroat, global competition that predominates today. I also understand that companies will sometimes discard loyal and often older, better compensated employees without a moment’s hesitation when the “downsizing” occurs. The most successful companies, however, who care deeply about their brand and their growth and their ability to attract, develop, and then retain good people, also care deeply about those people. Is that an aspect of loyalty? I think so, yeah.
Cantor Fitzgerald lost 658 of its employees, or two-thirds of its workforce, in the September 11, 2001 attack upon the World Trade Center. On September 12, the company committed itself to somehow rebuilding its business, almost from scratch. The firm made a pledge to distribute 25 percent of the firm's profits for the next five years, along with paying for ten years of health care, for the benefit of those 658 families. Is that an aspect of loyalty? Sure looks that way to me.
Lots of marriages still stay together; Marines and soldiers still selflessly throw themselves on grenades to save their buddies; companies spend large sums developing their employees and making contributions to their respective communities; not all golfers fire their longtime caddies.
Is loyalty dead? No, of course not. It’s MIA sometimes, but it’s certainly not dead. After all, who would want to live in a world where there’s no loyalty, or no blue t-shirts with the company logo?
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to visit a Midwest-based company who had been awarded a prestigious Malcolm Baldrige National Quality Award. Over an hour’s presentation, the company’s manufacturing representative made a point of mentioning (and then twice repeating) the fact that “loyalty in business is dead.” I wondered why he embraced such a notion, so I raised my hand.
Me: “Are you married?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Have you ever played on a sports team?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Were you ever in the armed forces?”
Him (proudly): “Yes, Army airborne.”
Me: “Do you force your employees to wear those blue t-shirts, the ones with the company logo?”
Him: “No, of course not.”
Me: “Doesn’t it demonstrate some degree of loyalty that they wear those shirts?”
Him: “Not really.”
Me: “If they wore your chief competitor’s t-shirt, would you consider that disloyal?”
Him (smiling): “They can wear whatever they want.”
Me: “Isn’t the business world really just a cluster of personal relationships, not unlike relationships in marriage or sports teams or military units?”
Him: “I suppose so, yeah.”
Me: “Then do you really buy that drivel about loyalty being dead in business?”
Him (pausing): “Yep, it just doesn’t exist anymore.”
Okay, so we disagree. And I understand that companies can’t promise lifetime or unconditional employment anymore, given the cutthroat, global competition that predominates today. I also understand that companies will sometimes discard loyal and often older, better compensated employees without a moment’s hesitation when the “downsizing” occurs. The most successful companies, however, who care deeply about their brand and their growth and their ability to attract, develop, and then retain good people, also care deeply about those people. Is that an aspect of loyalty? I think so, yeah.
Cantor Fitzgerald lost 658 of its employees, or two-thirds of its workforce, in the September 11, 2001 attack upon the World Trade Center. On September 12, the company committed itself to somehow rebuilding its business, almost from scratch. The firm made a pledge to distribute 25 percent of the firm's profits for the next five years, along with paying for ten years of health care, for the benefit of those 658 families. Is that an aspect of loyalty? Sure looks that way to me.
Lots of marriages still stay together; Marines and soldiers still selflessly throw themselves on grenades to save their buddies; companies spend large sums developing their employees and making contributions to their respective communities; not all golfers fire their longtime caddies.
Is loyalty dead? No, of course not. It’s MIA sometimes, but it’s certainly not dead. After all, who would want to live in a world where there’s no loyalty, or no blue t-shirts with the company logo?
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The State of American Politics
It’s hard to think of a more corrupting occupation than American politics. While it’s by no means an illegal activity, as opposed to, say, operating a meth lab or running guns to Mexico, it nevertheless seems to systematically corrupt otherwise good men and women of stature and accomplishment.
Our system has, in the past 235 years, produced political leaders who have provided able national leadership during times of war, of economic strife, of civil unrest, and of growth and regeneration. But something’s not right in our body politic. Its ability to produce leaders of quality has been severely diminished. Ironically, the world-class quality of our made-in-America products and services has risen steadily and inexorably over the last quarter century; ironically, too, the quality of our elected leaders has deteriorated steadily and inexorably over the same period. Or so it seems to me. We have philanderers and exhibitionists, bribe seekers and bribe takers, money launderers and sexual predators. We have a political class who has to beg for money virtually every day to keep their jobs. We have behavior from high elected officials that is routinely unethical, often immoral, and sometimes outright illegal. And then they have the nerve to complain about the political scruples of the Iraqi and Afghan pols.
We’ve always had our share of rascals in political life. I get that. And I realize our real-time, right-now, 24/7 news cycle exposes more of the underside of American life than ever before, to include political shenanigans. But heretofore we’ve always been able to produce political leaders to meet the challenges of the times. Someone has traditionally always stepped forward and led. Washington, Lincoln, TR, FDR, Truman, JFK, Reagan.
So where are they now? I can’t find any already in national office, and I’m looking hard, believe me. Oh, maybe there’s a leader in the military or private enterprise or state government who could provide quality leadership at the national level, but how long before they would be corrupted by special interests or re-election demands or the hyper partisanship or simply the arrogance that comes with raw power? And why would anyone in their right mind want to enter such a profession nowadays, what with the all-intrusive scrutiny and the pettiness and the begging and butt-kissing that go with it?
Bit of a conundrum, huh? Many good and talented Americans just stay away. And who can blame them? Those who do seek office seem to have to sell their souls to gain the office, only to be corrupted once there, choked, swallowed, and digested by a relentless, boa-like system. Not always, but seemingly often enough. And that is, if they weren’t corrupt to begin with. Those moths have always been attracted to the bright lights.
So where’s the leadership? Where’s the competence? Where’s the integrity?
Beats me. I wish I had a solution. But I don’t. Just like you, I’ll keep watching. And listening. And waiting.
And hoping.
Our system has, in the past 235 years, produced political leaders who have provided able national leadership during times of war, of economic strife, of civil unrest, and of growth and regeneration. But something’s not right in our body politic. Its ability to produce leaders of quality has been severely diminished. Ironically, the world-class quality of our made-in-America products and services has risen steadily and inexorably over the last quarter century; ironically, too, the quality of our elected leaders has deteriorated steadily and inexorably over the same period. Or so it seems to me. We have philanderers and exhibitionists, bribe seekers and bribe takers, money launderers and sexual predators. We have a political class who has to beg for money virtually every day to keep their jobs. We have behavior from high elected officials that is routinely unethical, often immoral, and sometimes outright illegal. And then they have the nerve to complain about the political scruples of the Iraqi and Afghan pols.
We’ve always had our share of rascals in political life. I get that. And I realize our real-time, right-now, 24/7 news cycle exposes more of the underside of American life than ever before, to include political shenanigans. But heretofore we’ve always been able to produce political leaders to meet the challenges of the times. Someone has traditionally always stepped forward and led. Washington, Lincoln, TR, FDR, Truman, JFK, Reagan.
So where are they now? I can’t find any already in national office, and I’m looking hard, believe me. Oh, maybe there’s a leader in the military or private enterprise or state government who could provide quality leadership at the national level, but how long before they would be corrupted by special interests or re-election demands or the hyper partisanship or simply the arrogance that comes with raw power? And why would anyone in their right mind want to enter such a profession nowadays, what with the all-intrusive scrutiny and the pettiness and the begging and butt-kissing that go with it?
Bit of a conundrum, huh? Many good and talented Americans just stay away. And who can blame them? Those who do seek office seem to have to sell their souls to gain the office, only to be corrupted once there, choked, swallowed, and digested by a relentless, boa-like system. Not always, but seemingly often enough. And that is, if they weren’t corrupt to begin with. Those moths have always been attracted to the bright lights.
So where’s the leadership? Where’s the competence? Where’s the integrity?
Beats me. I wish I had a solution. But I don’t. Just like you, I’ll keep watching. And listening. And waiting.
And hoping.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Baseball: The Grandest Game
Baseball is the grandest of all games, in my opinion.
I love its history, its traditions, its pace, and its iconic players. I can remember from my childhood hitting baseballs in the front yard, over the fence, like the great Mickey Mantle. The first time I saw Willie Mays’ batting stance, I adopted it for my own use. I even used his basket-catch method when I started out in Little League.
Nothing in sports is quite as beautiful or majestic to me as walking into a baseball stadium and seeing the colors—the green grass, the white chalk lines, the flag waving in the breeze, the teams in their respective uniforms. A hotdog never smells or tastes better than at a ballpark. Even the loudest of vendors hawking their goods in the aisle never seems obtrusive. On the scale of life’s most wonderful sounds, the popping of a catcher’s mitt or a wooden bat striking a cowhide ball rank only slightly below that of a baby’s laughter. To hear an umpire giving sharp, unambiguous ball-and-strike calls is a voice of America, plain and simple.
I’m not sure how many baseball, softball, or wiffle ball games I’ve played over my lifetime, but it’s enough to have crowded out the chance to learn a lot of practical stuff. I still can’t repair a car, and I had to learn things like basic plumbing and electricity well into adulthood. Still, I wouldn’t trade one well-hit line drive of my ball-playing days for any of the other skills.
My sons were excellent baseball players. Both were all-stars and both played on teams that won a lot. My daughter played softball equally as well, and still plays to this day. I enjoyed those days and nights at the ballpark, and I suffered withdrawal when their playing days were over. I knew then I’d have to do plumbing or electrical chores at home.
Now my grandsons are playing. The two eldest are excellent ballplayers who play with athleticism, smarts, and heart. Our family name is stitched onto the back of their jerseys, and they make me proud the way they play with skill and competitive fire on the field. They make me even prouder the way they play the game fairly and as good teammates. For me, it’s like going back in time, and I must admit that I can’t get enough of it.
Soon my 4-year-old grandson will get a great treat and see his first major-league game. And I’ll get a great treat in seeing him see his first major-league game. He’s going to be a player himself, and my instincts suggest he’ll be a splendid one. He’ll put on his hat and uniform and pull for the Braves to win yet another. He may even get to run the bases after the game is over. He’ll soak it all in and discover what a truly incomparable game baseball is. I know he’s excited about it.
Almost as much as I am.
I love its history, its traditions, its pace, and its iconic players. I can remember from my childhood hitting baseballs in the front yard, over the fence, like the great Mickey Mantle. The first time I saw Willie Mays’ batting stance, I adopted it for my own use. I even used his basket-catch method when I started out in Little League.
Nothing in sports is quite as beautiful or majestic to me as walking into a baseball stadium and seeing the colors—the green grass, the white chalk lines, the flag waving in the breeze, the teams in their respective uniforms. A hotdog never smells or tastes better than at a ballpark. Even the loudest of vendors hawking their goods in the aisle never seems obtrusive. On the scale of life’s most wonderful sounds, the popping of a catcher’s mitt or a wooden bat striking a cowhide ball rank only slightly below that of a baby’s laughter. To hear an umpire giving sharp, unambiguous ball-and-strike calls is a voice of America, plain and simple.
I’m not sure how many baseball, softball, or wiffle ball games I’ve played over my lifetime, but it’s enough to have crowded out the chance to learn a lot of practical stuff. I still can’t repair a car, and I had to learn things like basic plumbing and electricity well into adulthood. Still, I wouldn’t trade one well-hit line drive of my ball-playing days for any of the other skills.
My sons were excellent baseball players. Both were all-stars and both played on teams that won a lot. My daughter played softball equally as well, and still plays to this day. I enjoyed those days and nights at the ballpark, and I suffered withdrawal when their playing days were over. I knew then I’d have to do plumbing or electrical chores at home.
Now my grandsons are playing. The two eldest are excellent ballplayers who play with athleticism, smarts, and heart. Our family name is stitched onto the back of their jerseys, and they make me proud the way they play with skill and competitive fire on the field. They make me even prouder the way they play the game fairly and as good teammates. For me, it’s like going back in time, and I must admit that I can’t get enough of it.
Soon my 4-year-old grandson will get a great treat and see his first major-league game. And I’ll get a great treat in seeing him see his first major-league game. He’s going to be a player himself, and my instincts suggest he’ll be a splendid one. He’ll put on his hat and uniform and pull for the Braves to win yet another. He may even get to run the bases after the game is over. He’ll soak it all in and discover what a truly incomparable game baseball is. I know he’s excited about it.
Almost as much as I am.
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