Libby Baker Sweiger

Weaver of Everyday Tales

05 Nov 2011
17 Comments

Dad’s Christmas Tradition

“The light of the Christmas star to you. The warmth of home and hearth to you. The cheer and goodwill of friends to you. The hope of a child-like heart to you. The joy of a thousand angels to you. The love of the Son and God’s peace to you.”
― Sherryl Woods, An O’Brien Family Christmas

Christmas at Dad's

Christmas Eve at Dad’s was something to look forward to all year. You may wonder why he isn’t in the photo. He is probably taking it. However, Uncle Dick, his spirited brother is also AWOL. They could be recovering from their wrestling match.

Wrestling match? Now what does that have to do with Christmas, you may wonder. It’s a Baker family tradition. It was born out of the belief that Christmas is about children and giving them the best possible Christmas ever. One year, to our collective delight, my dad and Uncle Dick started rough housing right in the middle of Betty, my step mom’s impeccable decorations. We all squealed and laughed and clapped. It evolved into a wrestling match. And became a family Christmas Eve tradition. Uncle Dick usually won. When you consider he had at least a 60 pound weight advantage on Dad, was unbelievably strong and nearly 6 feet tall, my dad’s height — it’s not too surprising. But the sight of them was! They looked like two big bears rumbling around the living room. As I look back, I think their faces were red from the exertion involved in missing everything they could have hit, including their spell bound audience, and in not hurting each other! We laughed uproariously! It was so fun.

Shortly after the wrestling match, we were so wound up. Suddenly, there was the sound of sleigh bells coming from the roof. It’s Santa we all yelled! The excitement level in the room escalated. We all ran into the living room where the tree was to see that it was surrounded knee deep in presents. What lucky kids we thought, Santa visited us at our Dad’s and at our Mom’s.

On a side note. In this picture I was in 9th grade and too old to believe in Santa Clause. The babies in the picture are my darling sister Sara next to Scott on the floor, and my cousin Julie is in the back being held by my sister Suzy. Betty, the lady on the far left in beige and gold — is my lovely step mom and Sara’s mom. The lady in the red skirt is Marlys, Julie’s mom, Uncle Dick’s wife. In the back standing on the left is my wonderful Grandma Dorothy who my father says I am like, and my grandfather Pop is on the right, Dad’s dad.

What a beautiful blended family we were and we didn’t even know it!
We adjourned to a wonderful dinner, lots of conversation, and more laughter. I always love a party where wrestling matches, the entertainment of children, and general frivolity come before dinner. 🙂

We played with our gifts. We checked with Dad and Betty and Sara to make sure they liked theirs and finally said our goodbye to the Baker family Christmas. Oh, how would we wait another year? Dad drove us home. We were quiet and sleepy in the car. When my dad is happy he gets the urge to sing. He sang Mack the Knife to us, our favorite of his many renditions. What a treat! What a perfect evening!

Found! A picture of the Happy Wrestlers! Dad and Uncle Dick!

Posted in Christmas, Dad, Family, God, Grandparents, Love
04 Nov 2011
21 Comments

Christmas Mom-Style

“The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other. ”
— Burton Hillis

My Beautiful Regal Mom's Last Card 2009. Alzheimers, Still Knows Her Kids!

If my mom missed us on Christmas Eve, she never said so. We were over at my dad’s having an uproariously good time which I will tell you about. My mom stayed home alone on Christmas Eve and wrapped our gifts. She always built a fire in the fireplace for us to come home to. And made popcorn for us in a big wooden bowl with matching little bowls and hot chocolate. We all got to open a gift from her that night and we always knew what it would be: our new jammies.

We loved coming home on Christmas Eve to our cozy house and Mom. She loved Christmas and the whole biblical history of the night. Our crèche was out by the fireplace, our tree was decked out beautifully, a real one despite my mom’s allergies.

We would hug and all tell our story of being at dad’s and show mom our presents. She would exclaim over each one. Then we would open our Christmas Eve present from her and rush to put them on. We would all sit together by the fire and drink cocoa and mom would read the bible, about the very first Christmas. We would huddle together and drink in the warmth of the fire, hot chocolate and love. There weren’t any other presents around the three, for Santa hadn’t come yet.

Soon we’d say our good nights, hugs and kisses and go to bed. Mom stayed downstairs for a while. The next morning couldn’t come fast enough. We all had to wait at the top of the stairs until my grand parents arrived. They came with more presents perhaps, we couldn’t really see them, but I knew them so I’d say so! When we got the word — the four of us would charge down the stairs and into the living room for Christmas morning…It was beautiful, breath-taking.

Our stockings were stuffed and we opened them first. Santa had been generous (they were my mom’s favorite part!) And my grandparents brought more love into the house so that it was bursting with it. More gifts to spoil us with, their great smiles and laughter so that our Christmas morning overflowed with it.

Soon my grandmother left to go home to the huge turkey she had in the oven, my grandfather her always gentlemanly escort by her side. Later that day would be Christmas dinner with our wonderful matching cousins and more merriment than the heart could hold!

Posted in Children, Christianity, Christmas, Dad, Family, God, Grandparents, Love, Mom
01 Nov 2011
7 Comments

The Longest Run In Minnesota

“In the nineteenth century, Fritjof Nansen wrote that skiing washes civilization clean from our minds by dint of its exhilarating physicality. By extension, I believe that snow helps strip away the things that don’t matter. It leaves us thinking of little else but the greatness of nature, the place of our souls within it, and the dazzling whiteness that lies ahead.”
― Charlie English

Lutsen Ski Resort, North Shore Lake Superior, MN


My dad learned to ski in the army. That was probably the last place he’d skied. Thanks to him, my sister and I learned to ski at a local ski school and were pretty good at it. Suzy being a natural athlete, was better than I was, but we both raced for the ski school — so I wasn’t too shabby. Scott and Bill had taken lessons too, but hadn’t taken to the sport with the passion Suzy and I had.

For fun, dad took all of us to the Lutsen Resort up north for a weekend. We were thrilled to go. It wasn’t exactly a mountain, but the next best thing to it in Minnesota. They had a run that lasted one and a half miles! We were very excited, especially Suzy and I.

We broke up into groups. Suzy and I were skiing together and dad and the boys were on the beginner’s hill. I had never seen my dad ski before and I was amazed he could do it. I don’t want to be critical of his technique, but I’m sure he would be the first to admit he didn’t have any. But he wasn’t falling down. Not ever. I had never seen him do anything but excel at a sport so this was new. He did not want any of us giving him advice, pointers or help though that was for sure!

It was a glorious day. Not too cold and the sun was shining! Suzy and I were taking the chair lift to the top of the longest run and going down it as many times as we possibly could. I was finally starting to get a little tired and was standing at the bottom of the run. I noticed Billy and Scotty with our baby sister Sara and Betty up in the Chalet window and I wondered where Dad was. I knew Suzy had gone to take another run.

I was just looking around here and there for my dad. He was wearing a big brown parka with a hood and should be easy to spot. Suddenly from midway down the long run I saw his parka, and his stance on his skis. He was coming down the longest run in the state without a single technique to slow or impede his progress. He looked magnificent. He was standing on his skis without leaning too far forward or too far back — completely balanced. He had his body in a slight tuck which they may have taught him in the army or he was doing instinctively. It kept him from falling over backwards.

Nothing about the look of this determined balanced, almost graceful, certainly agile skier showed any indication that he was going down anything but the longest run. It did make you wonder a bit how he was going to stop.

Easily! He stayed to the left where the fewest people were and let inertia take over. He ran out of momentum and stopped. Nice run, Dad, I hollered. He smiled at me. What a perfect run. What a perfect day!

Posted in Children, Dad, Family
31 Oct 2011
9 Comments

Spinning On The Brule River

“People travel to wonder
at the height of the mountains,
at the huge waves of the seas,
at the long course of the rivers,
at the vast compass of the ocean,
at the circular motion of the stars,
and yet they pass by themselves
without wondering. ”
― Aurelius Augustinus

My Dad Can Handle a Canoe

My dad was a great outdoorsman. Being raised in the great open country of South Dakota, he couldn’t stand being in a city for long. He’d have to go camping, fishing, or canoeing. One of them or all three. Of course, being a family man he’d take Suzy and I with him. Billy was still too young for the adventures, poor kid, so was Scotty.

I remember our trip into Wisconsin. We set up camp and it started to rain. We were all cozy and snug in our tent, having already eaten and had our fire. I love to watch my dad build a fire. And I loved to sleep in a sleeping bag. Suzy and I could snuggle and sleep in the same grown-up bag and stay very warm.

It was fun to camp with dad. He would tell us stories, not ghost stories. My dad hated what he called spook stories. He told us stories of his growing up with our Uncle Dick his little brother and his mom, Grandma Dorothy. His little brother was a big kid and a scrappy fighter. So he held his own if my dad and he ever fought. My dad always told these stories smiling and laughing so you knew it was all in fun and no one ever got hurt, except the time Dick got mad at my dad and threw a tin can at him in the back alley and cut his head open. We would squeal when he told us that because he told it with such good humor. He said he wasn’t mad at his brother. But the next night at dinner he thew a fork at him and it stuck in his fat cheek — wobbling up and down. Then we’d laugh uproariously because Dad was laughing until a tear came down his cheeks.

This may have been a tall tale, I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine two brothers who loved each other like my dad and Uncle Dick could ever carry on like that, but boys are different, so I don’t know. We sure laughed!

The next day we were going to take our canoe downstream to fish. We got up nice and early, had our breakfast and started on our way. Suzy and I were of course wearing life jackets. The water was a little high. We were in Wisconsin and I don’t remember if we knew how much rain they’d had that Spring or not. We were about half way there and our canoe hung up on a rock. We were caught pretty good. Dad was in the center, I was in the back and Suzy was in the bow. We started spinning on the rock. It was kind of like a ride in an amusement park, but a little scarier, because it was real. Dad said, “Poncho, Cisco, Hang on tight. I’m going to have to get out of the canoe for a minute and lift us off of this rock. Libby, you watch your little sister.” He used our pet names so we knew it was an adventure.

It sounded okay to me. I noticed Suzy’s eyes were a bit wide, so I waved at her. As I have said before, I have never felt fear in the presence of my dad and I didn’t that day. He gently eased himself out of the canoe. The water was deep. I was surprised by that. It was almost to his chest.

Then Dad asked us to lean our weight to middle of the canoe. Which we did, schrunching forward until we could touch our feet and hold on tight. He grabbed it in the middle and at the bow and worked with the water and pushed, pulled and lifted. We were off the rock! We were no longer spinning on the Brule River. We were moving, because my dad had the boat and he was taking us to shore.

When we got to shore we laid in the sun. My dad dried off a bit and took of his wet shirt. We just laid there and enjoyed the beauty of that early summer day. I always felt close to God on these excursions with dad. The beauty and power of His creation all around us.

We decided to fish right there and then bring the canoe back up to the car and head home a bit early. We were all in the mood to lay our eyes on Mom and Billy and by that time, little Scotty. They were happy to see us, too and to hear all about our adventure.

I thought that day my dad could to anything. As I got older my opinion didn’t change much. If it’s humanly possible, or even requires some help from God, Dad can do it. Because he tries. He loves his children and he looks out for them. He leads from the heart. He’s the same kind of grandfather as he is a father and we are all so fortunate to have him. Love you, Dad!

Posted in Children, Dad, Family, God, Love and tagged , , , , ,
29 Oct 2011
11 Comments

O Christmas Tree!

I love Christmas! To me it is a magical time of year. It always has been. The birth of baby Jesus — Savior of the world tops everything and is truly the reason for the season — but I’d like to talk about Christmas’ trappings for a bit. The little things that make a child’s Christmas never-to-be-forgotten. My dad was the master of Christmas magic! First of all we never went to a tree lot. From the time I was very young, old enough to walk through the snow and have dad carry Suzy on his shoulder we went out and chopped down our own tree.

Now maybe this was a common occurrence in those days for many people in rural Minnesota, but we were the only ones in our suburb carrying out this ritual. We had to drive a long distance to get to a tree farm. It was a long Dad Hike to find a tree worthy of our living room and decorations. It had to be magnificent! It was such an adventure every year. We waited with such anticipation and enjoyed every second of the day spent with my tall, handsome, knew-how-to-chop-down-a-tree dad!

We didn’t look at any of the little trees. They were not to be disturbed on the tree farm. We walked past them all until we found a tall one with a wider trunk. My dad knew the names of all the kinds of trees and just the kind we liked. Norway pines. They were a very pretty green and had long needles. They lasted a long time.

Finally our quest was over. My dad had spotted our tree! We ran over and found a good sized tree covered in snow. I held Suzy’s hand and we stood back. My dad took his ax out and started to chop down the tree. Now it’s a very easy matter to cut down a tree properly and push it the direction it should go when it’s time for it to topple. And my dad knew exactly how to do it. He would never risk knocking a tree over on one of his children, so it’s hard to imagine where they get this stuff they put in the movies. But I never felt any warnings of danger or mishap when my dad was around!

Soon Suzy and I were standing back further and Dad was giving the tree a nice little shove. TIMBER!!!!! We all yelled (the most fun part!) and down came our Christmas tree. Dad laid down parallel to the tree to measure 6 feet and then added a bit more in length for our living room. On cue Suzy and I followed suit and began making show angels. A small snowball fight and many giggles followed. Then back to the business of cutting the tree to the right length, tying a rope on the trunk and wrapping it around the branches so we could pull it back to the car.

When we got home after singing merrily in the car it was time for hot cocoa and Billy and Mom to join in the decorating after we untangled the lights and got the tree in it’s stand. Still my job to this day!

“Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all thirty feet tall.”
― Larry Wilde

Our Tree and Us

Posted in Children, Christianity, Christmas, Dad, Family, God, Love and tagged , , , ,
27 Oct 2011
6 Comments

Six Little Cowboys

“Let us make one point, that we meet each other with a smile, when it is difficult to smile. Smile at each other, make time for each other in your family.”
― Mother Teresa

It was by brother Bill’s 50th Birthday Party. He didn’t look it. He didn’t act it. None of us were acting our age, it was a cowboy theme party! We were having a great time at my cousin Marnie’s house in Eagan with all my cousins assembled, my Aunt and Uncle, my sister Suzy, Sara was in Wisconsin, my mom and my dad and brothers Bill and Scott, and dad’s wife, my dear friend Patricia, who everyone called Trisha or Grandma Trish depending. We were all having a wonderful time and the cowboy hats and scarves were certainly helping.

It was so great to see my Dad and Uncle together. They had so much fun in the old days and every opportunity in between. Then Tricia started to gather my siblings for a picture with dad. We were shuffling around trying to follow direction and get into place and my mom saw us gathering for a picture and followed suit. Sweet Trish who was trying for a shot of dad and the kids shot this picture instead:

Middle (Me) Left: Suzy, Mom, Back: Scott, Dad and Bill on my right (6)

We all smiled! It was the first time in many years the six of us had been in the same picture together. Not by design, just by circumstance.

Here is the last picture taken of just the six of us:

Dad holding Scott, Bill, Mom holding Suzy, Me 🙂

My dear friend who I refuse to call step-anything, Trisha gave us a wonderful gift that day. Mom has dementia and doesn’t quite understand everything. The rest of us are very happy with the way life has turned out. Yet wasn’t it nice — on the day we all were together to celebrate my brother Bill and his matching cousin Muffy’s 50th birthday’s in our cowboy clothes — we were given a glimpse into the past and a moment of remembering?

It was a precious moment courtesy of one classy lady I call my friend. Thank you Patricia. You blessed our day. Hope we can do the same for you, next holiday! Love, Lib

Posted in Children, Family, friendship, Hope, Love
26 Oct 2011
11 Comments

Nothing To Fear

In the Depths God is There by Mark Chatwin

When we were kids we believed in things that go bump in the night. We had our dad check under our beds for the boogey men. Not every night, but some nights when TV was too scary or 2nd grade too overwhelming. And there was an old wives’ tale going around that said if you were falling in your sleep and didn’t wake up before you landed you would die. Now I believed that one for sure. I don’t know what reliable soul told me that one, but I believed it. I fell in my dreams, but I always woke up before I landed. Whew! I’d think to myself and go back to sleep. I used to dream all the time I could fly too. I had bad dreams, but also very fun, freeing, wonderful dreams.

Now I’ve mentioned that I was very ill with bi-polar disorder when they first discovered it. Probably because my boy Davey was very sick and I had to keep him going. I used all my physical and emotional stores to care for him, so that when the illness hit me, I didn’t have a lot left to fight it with. It hit me hard. And then little Davey died after I’d been in the hospital about 1 month or so. With that to absorb I got worse. I had excellent care, and many people loved me and were praying for me. Yet many days it felt like I was fighting very hard and going nowhere.

Before I got sick my favorite Psalm was 139 and when I was feeling really bad I would recite it to myself, as much as I could remember:

Psalm 139
1 O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.
2 Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3 Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.
5 Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
7 Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
10 Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.
12 Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

One night I was lying in my bed trying to sleep. Sleep was the hardest thing for me, because it was hard for me to quiet my mind and get peaceful. I was just lying there fretting about this and that. All of a sudden, I heard the still small voice within me say “let go”. Let Go? That isn’t right I’ve gotta fight this thing. Persistently the thought was there, “Let Go.” Finally I let myself relax and inwardly say okay. Suddenly I felt myself falling fast and hard not like in a dream, more like in a horror flick. I thought, oh no I’m going to die. I’m not ready to die. I don’t want to die I want to live, please Dear God, let me live. I kept falling and falling and falling. Then I landed, not hard, but soft and gently. And I didn’t die, nor did I feel awake. I felt surrounded by the warmest, strongest, most all-encompassing, dearest love I had every felt or even imagined. I knew it was the amazing love of God.

Then it struck me I had hit the very depths and God was there. I had gone as low as my soul could go, and God was there surrounding me his love. And then I knew like the Psalmist, that I could climb to the highest heavens and descend to the deepest depths and no matter where I went the love of God would be there before me. “If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea, even there will thy had lead me and thy right had will hold me.” I was sick, but I was no longer afraid.

My doctors said that from that night forward, I started to get well. They didn’t need to tell me, I knew I was, but it was very nice to hear.

Posted in God, Love and tagged , , , , ,
25 Oct 2011
8 Comments

Smile From Your Heart

“Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile.”
― Mother Teresa

Smile from your Heart

There’s so much power in a smile. A kind a loving smile. I try to greet everyone I see with one. I want them to know they are loved. I was smiled at a lot as a baby and a little girl. My mom and dad smiled at me. My grandparents smiled at me. My dear little sister Suzy — only 16-1/2 months my junior — smiled big at me when I wrangled her out of her crib to go see what was happened at the grown-up party going on in the living room. My cousins smiled at me. I was surrounded by love. I’m sure I smiled a lot in return because it has become a joyous loving habit of my life.

I try to live by this quote as I do by my favorite scriptures which it illustrates: “Let no one ever come to you without leaving better or happier.” (Matthew 25: 35-40 “‘For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; 36 naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ 37 “Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? 38 ‘And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? 39 ‘When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ 40 “The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’ “) This is the living Gospel!

Be the living expression of God’s kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile.”
― Mother Teresa

I know Jesus was the very kindest person on earth. Mother Teresa was so very kind too. She said some of the kindest things and lived a life of kindness, with the power and love of Jesus to help her! I know I am to emulate Jesus and I do, but many days the quotes of Mother Teresa speak to me very strongly and I want to walk in her steps as she walked in his.

Each day I try to do what is asked of me for that day. Greet every one with a smile. Make there way lighter. Have them leave me happier then when they first saw me. Impact them with love. The love of God, not just human affection. To do this you must be tapped in at the source. You must be praying, believing, communing, faithfully listening to your God. So that is what I do.

And with this comes so much joy! I remember in 9th grade our minister gave some of the kids who’d been confirmed a chance to speak in a special service. I decided not to prepare, but to just read the scriptures like mad before the big day. When it came my time to talk, great stories from the word just poured of out me so smoothly and with such love. I was so blessed. My family, my uncle, different members of our congregation came up to me afterwards and hugged me. You sure have been reading your bible, my uncle said. I was happy and delighted. I never passed up a chance to speak or read the word in church or anywhere after that!

Here’s one more quote I’d like to share on the subject of smiling:

“Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.”
― Mother Teresa

Mike and I Smiling!

Posted in Christianity, God, Love
25 Oct 2011
12 Comments

Cooley

Cooley: My Best Friend!

“We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.”
― Robert Louis Stevenson

We always called my best friend Lynn by her last name: Cooley. It just stuck. People sometimes called me Baker, but usually Libby. Cooley was so cool, we just naturally called her Cooley. She was the best friend anyone could have because she was honest, true blue, that’s the kind of cool she was. She wasn’t too cool for other people, she was down to earth and as funny as the day is long. I loved her and her whole family. We were friends from the age of 13 on and still are best friends to this day. Her mom Rita and I were great friends. I called her Mrs. Cooley, but for some reason we called her Rita otherwise. Her car had the license plate: Reets, which was her nickname. Her Dad’s name is Frank and he is nice and kind. A real gentlemen and always happy to have her friends stop by.

Mrs. Cooley and I were pals. I’d stop over there after school and shoot the breeze. Mrs Cooley usually had a roast in the oven and was watching her programs. She was a lot different from my mom. She was known to have a can of beer in the afternoon with a cigarette. People didn’t sweat that stuff quite so much back then. It was starting to be known the dangers of it but they were still shrugging them off. Mrs. Cooley was even funnier than Cooley — if that could be possible. She got me laughing and she laughed at my tales. I still miss her. Mr Cooley is still with us, but I don’t know for how long.

I am sad for her. It’s very hard to lose your parents. Even harder when you’re an only child. I try to be a sister to Cooley as best I can, but I know it’s not quite the same for her.

She has always been like a sister to me. She was like the one or two friends who visited me years ago when I was hospitalized for my first bout with bi-polar disorder and was so very sick. She drove herself downtown in her Valiant. We were talking about it the other day. She felt bad she couldn’t do more. She was like a beautiful ray of sunshine in that place. I’ll never forget it — or the incident we had when she came. She loves to tell it. She walked in and this pipsqueek Michael, a pot burnout case, told her he was Jesus Christ. She kept her cool. I did not. He had stolen another pack of my cigarettes, an unfortunate habit I had picked up with a vengance during my mental collapse! I was mad when I saw them. I gave him a swift kick and grabbed back my pack! Cooley burst into peels of laughter — the first laughter I’d heard in that frightening place. I laughed too, hard and it did me some good! I loved our visit and actually felt better after she left. Michael also quit stealing my stuff, red licorice included! What a friend.

Cooley is still the same great friend today. I called her yesterday to tell her some great news about how well the blogging was going or some such thing and notice she was quiet. I quickly got quiet to find out her dad is dying. I said I wanted to come sit with her. She said it was okay, that her husband was there and her youngest son was flying in from college. I thought how wonderful it was that because of her, her father’s name was continuing. All of her children have double last names!

She’s a wonderful friend. True to herself. Always honest and good to her friends and family. A credit to the whole human race. A dear daughter too. I’m so honored to call her my best friend!

Posted in bestfriend, friendship, Love
24 Oct 2011
14 Comments

Hardball with the Boys

“Baseball is the most perfect of games, solid, true, pure and precious as diamonds. If only life were so simple. Within the baselines anything can happen. Tides can reverse; oceans can open. That’s why they say, “the game is never over until the last man is out.” Colors can change, lives can alter, anything is possible in this gentle, flawless, loving game.”
― W.P. Kinsella, Shoeless Joe

Choke up on the bat, step into it and swing!

In our big house we had on the west side of the suburb we lived in, the new side, the boys played baseball in the street all summer long. The streets were new and made of cement, so I asked my dad and mom to get me a really thick pair of jeans, because I was going to play. They didn’t question me. I had played with the boys in our last neighborhood too, because I was very active and athletic — a tomboy as they called us in those days. So I informed the boys on the block that I was going to play baseball. “Shoot they said. “You gotta beat up every guy on this team to play with us.” They were pretty confident and laughed a little, because I was small and didn’t appear to have much meat on my bones. What they didn’t know was that I was determined, tough and wiry. So I fought each one of them, wrestled them to the ground and held them down until they said I could play. From then on we were teammates. We played every day of that hot summer in t-shirts and long jeans to protect at least our legs from the cement when sliding into home plate. I played first base because I had a good arm and I was fast — mentally and physically. One thing I wasn’t was a power hitter. I just couldn’t get a could crack at that hard little ball.

Bob Allison from the Minnesota Twins lived on our street and he had two really young boys. We idolized him, but never saw him. Once in a while we saw his pretty wife and their two young boys outside, but never him. Then one day, I was up for bat and pretty as you please he strolled over to the middle of the street, home plate. He asked me how my hitting was going and trying not to drop my jaw, I told him it wasn’t going very well. He said, well that bat is to big for you, you’ve got to choke up on it a bit. And then he showed me how! I was just about to scream I was so excited, but I did just exactly what he said.

Once he felt I had mastered that — by now our whole team was surrounding us at home plate — he had another tip for me. And for some more power, he said, you’ve got to step into it when you swing. He showed me how to take a step forward as I took a swing with my hands raised higher on the bat. Then he had a couple of balls pitched to me. Those guys weren’t going to do me any favors. We were teammates, not friends yet. The pitcher fired in a pitch, STRIKE! The catcher threw it back and he fired in another one. I took a deep breath and blew it out, to a step and swung… CRACK! Impact! That ball soared. Everyone around us jumped back and I ran like lightening. I wanted Mr. Bob Allison to see I was going to take advantage of his handiwork. First base whooosh…. second base whoooosh….third base…whoooosh…and I was on my way home! I slid into home SAFE! All but my jeans, shredded them, but man, the grin on my face! Mr. Bob Allison was looking over his shoulder and nodding from his driveway. It was time for him to go home.

What a great summer day. A legend appeared out of the shadows and taught me how to swing a bat. My teammates and I were suddenly friends. I had earned their respect. I’ll never forget it!

Posted in Baseball, Children, friendship, Hope

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