April 2, 2010
Dear Students,
Monday is opening day, which doesn't mean much to most of us any more, but to me, it is, as always, hope springing eternal in the human breast, or my aging version of my former youth. In 1945, when I was two, the Cubs won their last pennant, and I remember going to the Series in Wrigley Field and scoring the game in my crude toddler's scrawl. I kept the scorecard; Cubs lost. I cried all the way home (that part, I believe, is true).
But it's a new season, a new chance at life and victory. I get out my old glove and try to make my son play catch with me, but he doesn't like baseball. I am alone in my tragedy and my exaltation. So I throw the ball up into the air and catch it myself. That's the way it is.
gmc
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