'Tis the Season...for Baseball

While I'm not particularly a baseball fan, it was a part of my life when I was young.  How many of us can there be who don't recall the crack of a bat hitting a ball?  Or the feel of the hard, flat surface of a bleacher in the hot, afternoon or early evening sun?

One of my earliest memories is of my mother, sitting in the old (and I mean old) recliner, with a clipboard in her lap as she watched the World Series on the black & white TV, while she kept a detailed running score of the game.  I don't know what teams played in those games, but I know for most of my growing up years, I was a Roger Maris fan.  Mickey Mantle was a close second.  I also remember Sandy Koufax, Willie Mays, Johnny Bench, George Brett, Hank Aaron, Joe DiMaggio, and Don Drysdale.  Those were the days of baseball.  Of course there were hundreds more, but those were the ones I remember best.

My mom wasn't the only one who watched baseball.  We lived not far from Lawrence Stadium, now Lawrence-Dumont Stadium, which was built in 1934 and has been the home of the National Baseball Congress World Series since 1935.  On summer nights, my dad would attend games there.  My mom would take me, usually in my pajamas and very sleepy, to pick him up when the game was over.  Across the street from the ballpark was a Dairy Queen.  Not the fancy brazier kind there are not, but one where you walked up to the window and ordered.  My mom was a banana split person, and my dad usually ordered a sundae of some kind.  My favorite was a chocolate malt...that I rarely finished and was put in the freezer for the next day.  Frozen DQ chocolate malts are great!  The DQ has been gone for years, but I'm always reminded of it when we go watch my oldest granddaughter perform in the annual ice show or we go skating at the Ice Center (upper left of the stadium in photo), built in 1996.  I've had the pleasure of attending a few games at L-D Stadium over the past 20 years and enjoyed every minute, including the beer that was accidentally dumped down my back by a zealous fan. ;)

Childhood became teen years, and we'd moved to a small town.  I became a Dodger fan.  In fact, like former manager Tommy Lasorda, I've been known to bleed Dodger Blue.  Third baseman Ron Cey was my favorite during those years, but was closely followed by Steve Garvey, Don Sutton, and others.  If I still watched baseball, that would be my team, in spite of KC Royals being only 3 1/2 hours away.  I'll root for the Texas Rangers, too, just because.

When I finally grew up and became a real adult, I went to slow pitch softball games, usually two to three games a week and several weekend tournaments, for most of 20+ years.  I learned to keep score and swore that my backside had to have been as flat as the bleachers I sat on, game after game after game.  There were lots of bleacher tans: shoulders and arms, upper chest and back, and tops of thighs and feet, not to mention my scalp if there was a part in my hair.  I made friends with the wives and girlfriends of players and enjoyed spending time with them on the bleachers.  I learned the rules of baseball and softball, not by playing, but by watching, listening and cheering on the team.  And, oh, the stories I have of those crazy times.  If I had to choose between watching softball or baseball, I'd choose softball in a heartbeat, even in spite of Maris, Koufax and Cey. ;)

So here's my salute to baseball and the boys of summer, complete with a super, upbeat tune and old-time photos that bring back those childhood memories.  Thank you, John Fogarty!

Baseball is the only place in life where a sacrifice is really appreciated.  ~ Author Unknown

PLAY BALL!!! 

Keepsakes and Memories

In Memory of Davy Jones and those whose music became a major part of our lives in the 1960s.

Okay, I admit it.  I miss the '60s.  Anybody who paid attention or grew up in that decade of mind-blowing changes has to miss at least something about it.  Me?  I miss it all, even though admitting it makes me old.

Music, politics, the entire culture of the country was changed by those under 30.  Fathers complained about long-haired musicians in bands, and mothers feared what their daughters were doing when not under their watchful eyes.

I was ripe for the influence of those who were changing history.  From mid-grade school to high school graduation, I was a child of the '60s and experienced those changes, firsthand.  In fifth grade and barely into the decade, I remember spending time on the playground at school, listening to music on a transistor radio that broadcast AM radio stations.  Everyone was amazed that a radio could fit in a shirt pocket.  Now, our phones do.  As for music, we can download it to those phones, computers (which used to fill several rooms), and players made especially for listening.

My parents bought our first color TV in 1964.  Even my grown kids still have trouble imagining a world of B&W TV.  In '64, TV shows were just beginning to switch to color.  Bonanza was one of the first, and oh, the color of the green, green grass against the bright blue sky were amazing to see in our living rooms.  It was almost like being at the movies.

It wasn't only technology that had begun to change, but our way of life was changing in huge ways.

• The Berlin Wall was built to keep East Berliners from traveling West
• Martin Luther King began his work to bring segregation to an end
• The Space Race took off like a rocket (pardon the pun) and gave us not only the first humans in space, but the first man on the moon.
• We watched in horror as our President was gunned down before our eyes on TV.
• James Bond aka 007 brought us into the world of spies via movies and a hunk of a hero. ;)
• The Beatles took over music and brought about the British Invasion.
• Woodstock created a gathering place for half a million people to enjoy life and music.
• The Kansas City Chiefs and the Greenbay Packers played what was to become the first SuperBowl.
• Sesame Street was born to entertain and teach our children via TV.

Music changed in big ways.  Rock & Roll, which has roots in the late 1940s and early 1950s, exploded in the 1960s.  From Chuck Berry to the Beach Boys to the Beatles, Rolling Stones and thousands of others, music was our voice.  We identified ourselves by the music we listened to.  If not for the early pioneers of rock & roll and those who followed, music would not be the voice of youth and conscience that it is today.  

As the decade of the '60s began to come to a close, PEACE was on the lips and minds of every American.  From sit-ins and protests against war and segregation to the music that said it all, the end of the '60s ushered in a new beginning for many.

Those of us who lived during those years have memories that will never be forgotten, whether it was the music, the movies, the TV shows, technology, sports or how we spent our after-school time.  If, like me, you have special things that will live forever in your hearts, feel free to share them.  I'm sure they'll spark memories for others.

While doing a little research on my favorite decade, I discovered The 60s Official Site, a (new for me) website that has it all.  But before taking a stroll through memories of the decade, watch Vibration of a Nation, a terrific video on the same site that's more than worth the 25 minutes to watch.

Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, following you right on up until you die. ~ Paul Simon

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Ask my daughters and they'll tell tales of Halloween when they were young.  One year there was a tornado warning issued as we were trick-or-treating.  Another was a total washout, thanks to rain and flooding, but we tried anyway--I'm still amazed that we weren't washed away.  Their costumes were never store-bought.  I made them all, sometimes from whatever was available.  That's the fun way.

Although there are a lot of years between my daughters' Halloweens and mine, many of my memories are just as clear and strong as theirs are.  My next door neighbors included 3 children, all older than me and all accustomed to keeping an eye on me.  They were more siblings to me than neighbors, and every Halloween for years and years, they took me trick-or-treating.


One of the most memorable times was when I was quite small.  It was late.  We finished most of our block and beyond and were headed home.  While we waited on the corner to cross the street to my house, two cars collided in front of us.  It was loud, it was scary, and I remember screaming, bringing most of the neighborhood outside.  A bit traumatic for a three-year-old.  (I'm 2nd from the left in the clown costume.  Oldest of the neighbors is the tall, pioneer in the back.)

Then there was the Halloween of the Witch.   My mother made my costume that year, as she nearly always did, and for some strange reason I chose to be a pilgrim.  With the dark grey dress and white apron, collar and hat, I also wore a wig--yellow hair, two braids, much like a Dutch girl.  By that time we'd moved on to tricking and treating in the surrounding blocks. We neighborhood kids spent a lot of time riding our bikes on the block north of us, around the "circle drive" where the street dead-ended after they built the big highway.  Except on Halloween this particular year, there was a witch sneaking around the side of one of the houses near there, cackling at us and scaring me to the point of screaming and running for home, as fast as I could.  By the time I arrived, I was crying and could barely explain to my dad about the scary witch.  The first thing he did was to ask where my hat and wig were.  In my haste to get away from the witch, I'd lost them.  Too scared to face the witch again, I begged my dad to go with me to find my missing costume pieces.  He did, but by the time we arrived near the witch's house, she was gone.  We retrieved my hat and wig and returned home.  But I'll never forget how scared I was that night.  The poor neighbor who'd dressed as the witch never did it again.

By the time I hit junior high and high school, my family had moved to a small town, where Halloween had become famous for trouble.  It didn't take long for the new grocery store owners to realize they needed to hide the cartons of eggs early in the day.  My senior year, I rode with my best friends as we drove around town, and for the rest of the winter, that car smelled of rotten eggs whenever the heater was turned on.  We never threw a single egg.  Bales of hay were "borrowed" from neighboring farms and dumped in the middle of the main street, making driving...interesting.  Smashed pumpkins (not the band) were often stolen and joined the hay bales in the street.  There were a few times when those bales were set on fire.  In years past, outhouses were tipped over.  By the time I was in high school, it became so bad that the sheriff deputies--some on horseback--came to town to try to keep the craziness within bounds. There were a couple of years that I participated as a crazy by riding in the back of a pickup truck and holding on for dear life.  Then there was the five feet deep hole ("Devil's Hole") I fell into while running in the dark...

Is it any wonder that I love Halloween?  And apparently my daughters do, too, because they still enjoy putting together and wearing costumes as they take their own families trick-or-treating.  Me?  I just sit back and enjoy my favorite holiday in peace and quiet, along with an appropriate movie or two.

Hope you and yours have a wonderful and non-scary Happy Halloween!!