for the Journey

“Humans live best when each has his place, when each knows where he belongs in the scheme of things. Destroy the place and destroy the person.” –Frank Herbert

as much as i admittedly hate the Yankees, it’s sad to see Yankee Stadium go.  baseball is above all else a game of deep history and myth, and some of the greatest baseball legends were born and baptized inside that famous Bronx colosseum.  Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Reggie Jackson, Mickey Mantle, Lou Gehrig.  and the list goes on and on.  no matter how i feel about the current villains of the diamond, there’s that sinking feeling that we’re losing yet another important American artifact.

the gravity of the loss has settled in profoundly over the last two nights, as i watched the final All Star Game and Home Run Derby in the old arena.  both new and old legends were gathered for one final farewell.  while Josh Hamilton belted ball after ball into the upper deck, Whitey Ford stood reading his plaque in Memorial Park.  Yogi Berra had to throw the first pitch from a quarter distance, but applause roared as he hit the mark all the same.  Derek Jeter received a standing ovation when he was retired from the game.  Willie Mays got a longer one, just for taking off his cap.  i’m sure most of the hall of famers didn’t make it all the way to the fifteenth inning, but the rest of us stood guard for them until the deed was done.

i was lucky enough to visit Yankee Stadium earlier this year, during one of my renowned “in-between” times.  as many negative things as i have to say about the franchise itself, the building and its history are beyond reproach.  looking out on the famous arched facade, hearing in person the voice of Bob Sheppard…and witnessing the hush as the scoreboard declared “60 games left” at home field.  for me it was a touch of legend.

oh don’t get me wrong- they were nosebleed seats, several fans called me a jackass (for wearing my Cleveland cap), and i spent a small fortune on crappy beer.  the crowd really turned on me when the Yanks fell behind 11-4 and one particularly obnoxious neighbor reconfirmed my feelings of animosity toward the pinstriped gang and its followers.

but i was there.

someday i will tell my children about New Orleans before the flood.  i will show them pictures of the World Trade Center.  i’ll recount tales of the gas-powered car, the dial-up modem, the five dollar movie.

and i will tell them about the house that Ruth built.

for the Journey,
-louie-

it’s amazing how someone you’ve never met can change your entire outlook on life.  as i was sitting on the plane to San Diego, a playful little girl of 1 and a half popped her head over the chair in front of me and screamed “YAAH!!”.  and again, and again, for the entire trip.  normally i would have grown quickly tired of the simple (and loud) game after a few iterations.  i would have lamented the lack of peace and solitude that was taking my concentration away from a particularly good book.  but all i could do was grin widely each time and think “i’m about to meet my nephew”.

his name is Luke and he’s going to be a baseball player.  i didn’t have any help making this decision, but upon meeting the little slugger i can see that inspiration guided me well.  there were baseballs and bats on his tiny little pj’s.  coincidence?  or Fate’s way of marking the child?  hmmm…

whatever Luke decides to do in life (i mean pitcher or third baseman, either way is cool), he has brightened mine in unexpected ways.  he has reshaped my role in society during the nine months + 1 month of his so-far-exciting Journey.  i’m now “Uncle Louie”.  and Uncle Louie can’t just bumble through life- he has some important lessons to impart.  an example to set.

as i held the child for the first time, all we could do was mimic each other’s wide stare of wonder.  what an amazing little miracle.  Luke started bobbing his head and flailing his arms.  yeah, definitely a pitcher.

hopes for the Journey,

-uncle louie-