This country is, despite of having it's faults, the greatest country in the history of the earth. The freedoms we have are envied throughout the world. Our lifestyle, even in these difficult financial times, is admired nearly everywhere. Many of the problems we face from outside are due to that envy and admiration. There are those who cannot have what we do and are so consumed by it that they will do anything to tear us down, to control us and eliminate our freedom.
I grew up in the Vietnam era. I was 18 in 1969 and had to register for the draft. I actually still have my original draft card. It is somewhat tattered and it never ceases to amaze what it has survived considering that I basically carried it in my wallet through some very interesting experiences. The first draft "lottery" was held in 1969 and I went into the lottery in 1970. Believe me when I say this was NOT a lottery that anyone wanted to win. Not because people didn't want to serve, they just didn't want to serve in Viet Nam. I was fortunate that my number came up higher than the last number that would be drafted for that year. I did have a lot of friends who went, and have a lot of stories not only from them but about the whole protest era as well, but those are all for another time.
I have always felt very, very blessed to have been born in this country. I truly appreciate the opportunities we have, the freedoms that we enjoy, and would certainly fight to maintain them, not just for myself, but for my family and for generations to come. I admire greatly those that do, and those that have. I am very, very thankful to them. When I look at the number of people who have given their lives over the years to maintain our freedom, our way of life, our country, I am humbled greatly. For those that survived and, in many cases, suffered greatly for it I say THANK YOU.
I still get emotional every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, see our flag, and realize what we have. Yes, we have our problems. Yes, we have our faults. But we have the freedom to dissent, to disagree, to even argue about what the solutions are. That freedom is precious, and must be maintained. I wish it were not true that we had to battle against others to keep it, but that is the reality of the world. I am glad that we have so many that are and have been willing to do so.
If you know a veteran, thank them this day. If you see one thank them. If you don't know one or see one, pray for them, and give thanks for them. I know I will.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
People Who Touch Each Other in Life
Modern technology is great. If I didn’t have a computer and we didn’t have the internet I probably wouldn’t have written this and certainly you, if there is anyone out there, wouldn’t be reading it. It is truly amazing how much information you can find these days with just a few clicks of a button.
I probably haven’t been back to my hometown in Illinois more than a handful of times since I left, really, after graduation from high school. I still keep in touch with some friends there, but I really have no family left there anymore, and no real reason to go there except maybe to a reunion. But I can still keep connected by going to my home town newspaper on the internet. I can still keep up with what is going on, how the local high school sports teams are doing, what the issues are, and, in the winter, how cold it is (and feel good that I live in Atlanta!). I often ask one of my friends still there how that global warming thing is going for them.
I also check out the obituaries. Not in a morbid way, but just to see who’s listed and to be sure I’m not on there. I have seen some of my parent’s friends, some other names that ring a bell, and some that bring back memories. I recently saw one for a man who I knew growing up. His name was Terry. He was the same age as I am in but was a year behind me in school. It doesn’t say what he died of, but 57 is an early age to pass on.
I dream a lot and things come to me, running through my head, at odd times. My brother and my mother both had “premonitions” of things, but more about that at another time. At about the time that Terry was dying, and before I saw the obituary, a memory was bouncing through my head about Pony League Baseball. It was about the best game I had at that age. It was against Terry’s team and he was pitching. There are some players or teams in sports when you play that just have your number, that for whatever reason you just can’t beat or overcome. Then are there those whose number you have, and you wish that you could play against every time out. Terry was a pitcher who I would have loved to have batted against every time up. I think I would have hit 1.000. He was a good pitcher, but for some reason I could see his pitches like they were beach balls.
The particular game that came to mind I was pitching for our team which, unfortunately, wasn’t that good. I think I pitched well, striking out nine in seven innings and only giving up three hits, but they scored seven runs. I’ll let you figure that out. But we won 9-7. I had three hits, a single, a triple with the bases loaded, and a grand slam home run. I drove in seven runs. It was certainly a memorable game, I think I still have the box score packed away some where. But the thing I remember most about that game was an exchange I had with Terry.
After the last hit, which was the grand slam, I crossed home plate and headed to the dugout. Terry hollered at me from the pitchers mound. He said “Merlin, what’s wrong, don’t you like me!?” It was said in with a smile on his face. I think I smiled back at him and shrugged my shoulders, at least that’s how I remember it. Terry was an easy going boy. He tried hard, was a good athlete, and a friendly person. The truth was, that while I didn’t know him that well, and we would never become close friends, I DID like him. He was very likeable. I would see him fairly often after that over the following years and always felt a warm connection to him.
I think though that the most important part of that exchange was the manner in which it was meant. While we were both competitive, and certainly both strived to be as good as we could at what we were doing, it put things in great perspective. I think that we both knew that there were far more important things in life than baseball, than that one hit, one pitch, that one game. That whether I could hit his pitches, or that he had some trouble getting me out really, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter all that much. WHO we were was far more important, and that he could kid about it said a lot about who he was.
I don’t know what the rest of his life was like. The obit says his nickname was “Scratch”, that he had seven grandchildren who he loved to spend time with and who adored him and called him PaPa, and that he had a great passion for motorcycles. I have the feeling that he probably didn’t change much, that he was probably always pretty easy going and easy to like. I hope and pray that he found a relationship with the Father and that his soul is at peace at his permanent home.
Through our lives we come in contact with many people, some for just a moment, some for longer, some for a lifetime. Memories come back to me at odd times about people I have known or run into and, for whatever reason, have left a small sentence or paragraph in the book that is my life. While the game I had that day is a very pleasant memory the exchange I had with Terry is far more important. I pray for his soul, for his family, and I think I can feel secure in giving thanks for his seven grandchildren having known their PaPa.
Try to remember the people and moments in your life. Treasure them, pray for them, even if you have no clue where they are or who they are anymore. It’s one thing that we can do for each other that is always a help!
Modern technology is great. If I didn’t have a computer and we didn’t have the internet I probably wouldn’t have written this and certainly you, if there is anyone out there, wouldn’t be reading it. It is truly amazing how much information you can find these days with just a few clicks of a button.
I probably haven’t been back to my hometown in Illinois more than a handful of times since I left, really, after graduation from high school. I still keep in touch with some friends there, but I really have no family left there anymore, and no real reason to go there except maybe to a reunion. But I can still keep connected by going to my home town newspaper on the internet. I can still keep up with what is going on, how the local high school sports teams are doing, what the issues are, and, in the winter, how cold it is (and feel good that I live in Atlanta!). I often ask one of my friends still there how that global warming thing is going for them.
I also check out the obituaries. Not in a morbid way, but just to see who’s listed and to be sure I’m not on there. I have seen some of my parent’s friends, some other names that ring a bell, and some that bring back memories. I recently saw one for a man who I knew growing up. His name was Terry. He was the same age as I am in but was a year behind me in school. It doesn’t say what he died of, but 57 is an early age to pass on.
I dream a lot and things come to me, running through my head, at odd times. My brother and my mother both had “premonitions” of things, but more about that at another time. At about the time that Terry was dying, and before I saw the obituary, a memory was bouncing through my head about Pony League Baseball. It was about the best game I had at that age. It was against Terry’s team and he was pitching. There are some players or teams in sports when you play that just have your number, that for whatever reason you just can’t beat or overcome. Then are there those whose number you have, and you wish that you could play against every time out. Terry was a pitcher who I would have loved to have batted against every time up. I think I would have hit 1.000. He was a good pitcher, but for some reason I could see his pitches like they were beach balls.
The particular game that came to mind I was pitching for our team which, unfortunately, wasn’t that good. I think I pitched well, striking out nine in seven innings and only giving up three hits, but they scored seven runs. I’ll let you figure that out. But we won 9-7. I had three hits, a single, a triple with the bases loaded, and a grand slam home run. I drove in seven runs. It was certainly a memorable game, I think I still have the box score packed away some where. But the thing I remember most about that game was an exchange I had with Terry.
After the last hit, which was the grand slam, I crossed home plate and headed to the dugout. Terry hollered at me from the pitchers mound. He said “Merlin, what’s wrong, don’t you like me!?” It was said in with a smile on his face. I think I smiled back at him and shrugged my shoulders, at least that’s how I remember it. Terry was an easy going boy. He tried hard, was a good athlete, and a friendly person. The truth was, that while I didn’t know him that well, and we would never become close friends, I DID like him. He was very likeable. I would see him fairly often after that over the following years and always felt a warm connection to him.
I think though that the most important part of that exchange was the manner in which it was meant. While we were both competitive, and certainly both strived to be as good as we could at what we were doing, it put things in great perspective. I think that we both knew that there were far more important things in life than baseball, than that one hit, one pitch, that one game. That whether I could hit his pitches, or that he had some trouble getting me out really, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter all that much. WHO we were was far more important, and that he could kid about it said a lot about who he was.
I don’t know what the rest of his life was like. The obit says his nickname was “Scratch”, that he had seven grandchildren who he loved to spend time with and who adored him and called him PaPa, and that he had a great passion for motorcycles. I have the feeling that he probably didn’t change much, that he was probably always pretty easy going and easy to like. I hope and pray that he found a relationship with the Father and that his soul is at peace at his permanent home.
Through our lives we come in contact with many people, some for just a moment, some for longer, some for a lifetime. Memories come back to me at odd times about people I have known or run into and, for whatever reason, have left a small sentence or paragraph in the book that is my life. While the game I had that day is a very pleasant memory the exchange I had with Terry is far more important. I pray for his soul, for his family, and I think I can feel secure in giving thanks for his seven grandchildren having known their PaPa.
Try to remember the people and moments in your life. Treasure them, pray for them, even if you have no clue where they are or who they are anymore. It’s one thing that we can do for each other that is always a help!
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