THURSDAY JUNE 20, 2024 SUMMER

Today is the start of summer in the northern hemisphere. It will happen (or did happen) at 3:50 pm Central Daylight Time today as the sun’s rays reach the Tropic of Cancer—the farthest north that the sun's rays travel. From now until December 20, the sun's rays will move to the Tropic of Capricorn.  

For me, summer reflects the days of childhood. I was playing outside until the sun went down.  When I was 9 and 10, I played kid’s league baseball.  (Or, tried to play baseball)

Peter, Paul, and Mary—the folk trio of the 1950s and 1960s —had a song, “Right Field.”

Saturday summers, when I was a kid

We'd run to the schoolyard, and here's what we did

We'd pick out the captains, and we'd choose up the teams

It was always a measure of my self-esteem

'Cause the fastest, the strongest, played shortstop and first

The last ones they picked were the worst

I never needed to ask, it was sealed,

I just took up my place in right field.

*****

Yes, right field - the place where you dumped the slowest player.  

The song goes on:

Right field, it's easy, you know.

You can be awkward, and you can be slow

That's why I'm here in right field

Just watching the dandelions grow

**

Yup - out in right field - watching the dandelions grow.  

**

And continues:

Playing right field can be lonely and dull

Little Leagues never have lefties that pull

I'd dream of the day they'd hit one my way

They never did, but still I would pray

That I'd make a fantastic catch on the run

And not lose the ball in the sun

**

(Praying - don’t hit the ball to me, don’t hit the ball to me)

**

The game continues. I’m out in right field watching the dandelions grow. I might have batted two or three times and maybe gotten on base once.  

**

But the song brings hope to all of us “awkward and slow” kids:

Off in the distance, the game's dragging on,

There's strikes on the batter, some runners are on.

I don't know the inning, I've forgotten the score.

The whole team is yelling and I don't know what for.

Then suddenly, everyone's looking at me.

My mind has been wandering; what could it be?

They point at the sky, and I look up above

And a baseball falls into my glove!  (WOOO!!!  HALLELUJAH!!!)

Here in right field, it's important you know.

You gotta know how to catch, you gotta know how to throw,

That's why I'm here in right field, just watching the dandelions grow!

*****

Although I wasn’t very good at sports, I found my niche in music, drama, chess, math, and reading.

My father loved to watch sports on television, and we sometimes went to the Cedar Rapids Minor League team. (I would get a coupon for free admission by reading.)  One of our church friends (Bud Curren) was the head groundskeeper. 

On Saturdays, we could watch Dizzy Dean announce the Game of the Week on television.  My family didn’t drink alcohol.  (My grandmother was a WCTU - Women’s Christian Temperance Union member).  Falstaff Beer sponsored Dizzy.  Dizzy and his brother, Daffy Dean, played for the St. Louis Cardinals.  He might lapse into singing The Wabash Cannonball.

Listen to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar

As she glides along the woodland o'er the hills and by the shore

Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobo's call

As you travel across the country on the Wabash Cannonball

(Note - Once the third largest brewery in the United States, the Falstaff Brewing Corporation now exists only in memory. The brewery's final plant in St. Louis has been closed since 1977.)

I watched Mickey Mantel, Roger Maris, and the other great players.  But my favorite team was the St. Louis Cardinals.  Bob Gibson - a former Creighton University basketball player from Omaha, Nebraska, was the star pitcher (and won two Cy Young awards).  There was Stan (the Man) Musial, Lou Brock, and others.  

My father and Uncle George liked the Cardinals, and my other two uncles on my mother's side—Uncle Earl and Uncle Nolan—were Cub fans. It seemed like the family got together in late August, and it would be a Cubs versus Cardinals weekend.  

*****

It's been years since I fervently followed baseball. I knew the statistics, looked at the Gazette box scores daily, and had baseball cards.  

*****

It was a more leisurely time then (or it was to a youngster growing up in Eastern Iowa). There was peace in the world (as far as I knew). Sure, Russia launched Sputnik, and there was a Cold War of nuclear weapons.  But for a kid growing up - there was summer reading, summer baseball, and just being a kid - riding my bike and doing fun things.

*****

Sports have changed. A kid who looks good when he (or she) is 7 or 8 years old is shuffled off to a sports camp. They could go to baseball, softball, volleyball, or football camps. Kids are not allowed to be kids—lying on the grass, looking up at the sky, and deciding if the clouds looked like a rabbit or a horse - or watching the dandelions grow.

Of course, the years have erased the bad memories - of not being an outstanding baseball player and sitting on the bench.  

Those were the peaceful years of growing up. I was in a two-parent home—with two loving parents and a sister; my material grandparents lived close. We were a happy family.  

Some of my friends didn’t have that childhood.  Some had abusive fathers (one of my friend’s fathers killed one of her brothers in a drunken fit of anger.)

Life was good, and life is still good.

LOVE WINS

LOVE TRANSFORMS

Karen Anne White, a Pollyanna of the First Degree.