I Am A Daughter - Remembering Baseball

This morning Jay and I were talking about the outcome of last night's Game 6 of the World Series. We are not huge sports fans unless Michael gets us tickets to the Kings' Hockey games or unless Gabriel is playing one of his sports. But we both have memories of growing up with baseball.  I was a Cleveland Indian fan as a child, growing up in Kent, OH.  Every summer the local kids would attend a "Knothole Club" game.

We would gather at Kent's train station, and supervised by the adults, take the train to Cleveland marching in a parade to the Stadium where for 25 cents we got tickets to sit in the outfield and cheer such players as Al Rosen and Larry Doby.

Baseball was also very present in my house because my dad was an official baseball umpire.  I am sure he enjoyed this role but he actually umpired local baseball teams as a source of revenue.  I would go with him to some games and get very incensed when the crowd would yell at him..."Hey, ump, are you blind!" or "Kill the umpire!" when a call didn't go their way.  I wanted to shout back protectively,..."He is a good man and he is doing the best he can!"

This train of thought reminds me of how hard my father worked.  He had a day job at Gougler's Machine Shop where he had worked his way up to a supervisory position.  But most of the time, he came home from work and changed...to go to work...at his second job.  As well as umpiring, he also sold life insurance in the days when the insurance agent went to the homes of clients to collect their monthly premiums.  I am still using sewing needles that were give-aways for National Life Insurance.  When we moved to California, he continued with second jobs, working evenings selling shoes at Thom McAn's shoe stores.  My father was not afraid of work and he did whatever he could to provide for his family.

We never considered ourselves poor.  Money was always tight and as a result I and my brothers knew that if we ever wanted something extra, we would have to earn the money to obtain it because there was just no "extra" money.  From the of age 12 I baby-sat with neighborhood children for 25 cents an hour.  In the 8th grade, my father co-signed with me to purchase a Hi-Fi record player on the installment plan, making $5 a month payments until it was paid off.  We always had "summer jobs" and I paid for my own books all during high school.  My brothers and I each saved to buy our first cars. That was the way life was in the 1950's. We were no different from most of our friends. People worked hard for what they had and they cared for it and appreciated it. As adults, we continue to have a value for the "hard-earned" dollar and make financial decisions only after giving it much thought.  We know the difference between want and need.

Reminiscing like this makes me feel old.  I read yesterday that "Living in the past is the temptation and burden of aging." (Phyllis Theroux)  But sometimes it is also a gift...to remember the journey on your road to becoming and to view with appreciation the people and factors that helped to influence you.

Congratulations to the St. Louis Cardinals...and let's see what Game 7 brings!