Vida Blue Life Lessons

As a kid growing up in Southern California, I loved baseball and was fascinated by Vida Blue of the Oakland A’s when in 1971 he was the premiere pitcher in the major leagues at age 22. More than 30 years later, a friend and I took our 13-year-old sons to Cooperstown for Tony Gwynn’s induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, and we unexpectedly got to meet Vida in a shop on Main Street. I couldn’t believe that the American League MVP struck up a conversation with our boys, asking them, “Do you play baseball?” My son Dan answered, “We used to.” Amusedly, Vida smiled and replied, “Used to? What are you, retired?” Dan explained that they’d switched from playing little league baseball to lacrosse, which was gaining greater popularity as a youth sport in our small town in New England. “Lacrosse,” the Cy Young Award winner inquired further, “you mean that game where you throw the ball with a stick and a net on the end of it?” Yes, said Dan, surprised that a major leaguer was interested enough to talk to him. By now Vida had given his full attention to the kid who wasn’t even in a line of fans seeking autographs. The famous fastballer followed up with one more question about lacrosse, “Do you like that game?” Yes, Dan acknowledged he did enjoy the “other” stick and ball sport. To which the three-time World Series champion responded, “Good. Because that’s what matters, just having fun out there, being with your friends and playing on a team.” The legendary All-Star went on to give the boys the sincerest and most encouraging pep talk of their young lives. Vida stressed to the young teens the importance of doing your best, following your dreams, and staying true to yourself. He never mentioned how he achieved the highest success in professional sports nor the depths of racism and substance abuse that he encountered along the way. Speaking from the heart, Vida Blue shared his wisdom, shook hands, and left a lasting impression on two lads and their dads. I’ll remember his brilliance as a pro ballplayer but even more his humility and warmth as a person. RIP, Vida. (1949-2023)

Return from Hiatusville

After a brief intermission of five and a-half years, the curtain rises. Back by popular demand? Not exactly. Just call it a hankering to get back in the blog business. Stories to tell, photos to share, times to remember. After 19 winters in New England, one pandemic, one retirement (mine), and another road trip, we are back in Southern California. And damned glad to be here.

Memorial Day

My dad and my father-in-law were veterans of the Korean War. They were among the 5.8 million Americans who served in the military during the conflict.  The U.S. and South Korea were joined by 15 other countries that provided troops and five countries that provided medical support.

From 1950 to 1953, more than 36,000 Americans died in the Korean War.  During the same time period, the total U.S. military death toll (worldwide) was more than 54,000, and the number of war dead for United Nations countries was more than 628,000.

My son and I went to the Korean War Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. this year.  Army, Marine, Navy and Air Force members are depicted in 19 stainless steel statues, all of the troops wearing ponchos over their backpacks and weapons. The statues stand amid juniper bushes and strips of polished granite which represent rice paddies in the Korean war zone.

The dedication stone at the Korean War Memorial bears this inscription:

Our nation honors her sons and daughters
who answered the call to defend a country
they never knew and a people they never met

Earth Day 2017

Saturday was Earth Day, with special meaning for our family because it’s the day our daughter was born, premature by one season. We celebrated her Earth Day birthday with a gift of art (el tecolote) and lunch of tacos, burritos, enchiladas and margaritas in Hartford. At a bus stop near Bushnell Park and the CT state capitol we met a retired science teacher with white beard and  knee-length tie-dyed coat sporting buttons of political and philosophical messaging. He’d just come from Hartford’s version of the March for Science in Washington DC. We’d just read in the Boston Globe a petition from hundreds of social scientists to President Trump, expressing dismay at his falsehoods and cavalier, blatant disregard for social scientific evidence.

Back at home the vegetable garden is fertile, the Franciscan friar finally free of flurries. All snow has melted away, maple trees are budding, birds chirping, grass is green, tulips and azaleas in full bloom. I planted peas on Easter Sunday and if we get some sunny afternoons expect to see the sprouts of rain-delayed germination on about the tenth day.

My fave anthem about Mother Earth: Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology), by Marvin Gaye, 1971.

My fave prayer/poem/hymn about Mother Earth: The Canticle of Brother Sun, by St. Francis, c. 1224. Shoutouts to Sister Moon, Brother Wind, Sister Water, Brother Fire, and Sister Bodily Death.

Eve of Spring Equinox

Winter’s last sunset

Hibernators wakeup call

Snowy steps to Spring

Saints Patrick and Francis

March Madness underway. Cabbages the size of basketballs, tournament-worthy, obviously not from the Northeast region. Accompaniment to corned beef for the feast of San Patricio. Tuesday’s blizzard gifted about 12-inches of sloppy wet snow, followed by an overnight freeze and temps in the twenties. Any plans for spring gardening were nipped in the bud. Our sixteenth winter in New England. Weather wise, not the worst. 2015 holds that distinction, Boston relentlessly hammered with storms that yielded a seasonal snow total close to 110 inches. As previously described, planting peas on St. Patrick’s Day is a personal ritual I acquired or created a few years after landing in these parts from Southern California. It’s a rite rife with longing for longer days, hankering for hot summer nights, yearning to replace snow shovel with garden spade. Alas, 17th March in 2017 was not a day in the garden. Our vegetable plot and statue of Saint Francis remain under a frozen blanket. His sandaled feet still shrouded by inches of snow, Francisco has been through this ritual before. Pea planting will be delayed until further notice.

 

Quake felt in Tokyo

Five six magnitude
Eight floors up office sways count
Ten wait fear calm breathe

Signs of Winter, 2017

Great Buddha at Kamakura

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The seated Buddha, Amidai Nyorai, also known as the Kamakura Daibutsu (Great Buddha), is a national treasure of Japan. Construction of the colossal bronze statue was begun in 1252 A.D. and continued for ten years, according to historical documents. It is more than 13 meters or 43 feet in height, and throughout the centuries has survived earthquake and tidal wave. A popular field trip location for Japanese schoolchildren and destination for visitors from around the world, the Kamakura Daibutsu is the principle deity of Kotoku-in temple.

My father took our family to see the Buddha at Kamakura when I was boy aged six or seven. To return to this sacred place was a powerful and spiritual experience.

A welcome sign outside the Kotuku-in Monastery gives this notice: “Stranger whosever thou art and whatsoever be thy creed when thou enterest this sanctuary remember thou treadest upon ground hallowed by the worship of ages. This is the temple of Bhudda and the gods of the Eternal and should therefore be entered with reverence. By order of the Prior.”

First Day of Spring?