Time To Buy and Time To Lose Yourself Within A Morning Star....

Random thoughts again:

As a kid, I can remember the anticipation of the baseball All Star Game. Even more than the World Series (which would invariably mean that the Yankees were representing the American League, which was like "rain on your wedding day"), it was the one time of year where you got to see ALL of your heroes in one place, seeing how one league stacks up against the other.....and it always seemed like a party. But the chief difference between that game and all the other "All Star Games" was that in baseball, the pitchers really tried to get the strike-out, and the fielder's really played defense. And it was usually a pretty good game.

These days, games like that can't possibly live up to the hype; because the hype begins about six months before the game is actually played.

Oh, and in my youth, the All Stars were chosen by sportswriters and not the fans. And even when the fans voted, it was on a paper ballot that you could only get at the ballpark. Not this "American Idol" vote-on-line-six-thousand-times-a-second crap.

Truly, I'd rather see the guy who has stolen 25 bases in the first half of the season play, rather than the sloppy-fat juiced-up long ball hitter who's well past his prime.

Other thoughts:

This would be a good time to be at the cabin, which is located in the middle of the state of Michigan, back into the cedars near the small stream. I have the need to lay out on the hammock by the water, listening to the sound of the wind through the trees, and catching the mellow sounds of Ernie Harwell on the radio and the lovely aroma of something cooking over the charcoal.

Too late; I'm already back there in my mind. The sound of children's laughter is actually an echo, but I can live with that.

Well the sun begins to fade, we'll put together a game of "Ghost in the Graveyard". Who's up for it?

And the connecting thought:

One of the best presents I ever got on my birthday was one of those balsa wood airplanes, that are propelled by winding up the rubber band operated propeller. I had to have been six. Maybe seven. And for dessert, my Mother would go out to Sanders' and get this really good devil's food cake with "bumpy" frosting. And I would get the biggest piece. And that one day of the year was yours, and your alone.

Side note:

Back in 1997, I was having a very bad week. July is traditionally a very hard month for me, and the 1997 edition was almost more than I could bear. I'd left one job for another, was homeless (in the sense that my permanent address was now a 1996 Mercury Mystique) and working at the theatre in Illinois that wasn't bad, just a bad fit for me. I was struggling to stay on the wagon and I was working with people that were all younger than I.....

On the morning of my birthday, I opened the door to the ugly dorm room I was currently storing my stuff in.....and somebody had left me a present.

It was a balsa wood airplane with a rubber band propeller mechanism.

I took the gift, closed the door, and cried my eyes out of twenty minutes or so, and then went out and thanked everybody. You see, to this day I don't know who left it, but I thanked everybody. And for that one day, things were pretty good.

PS: That July wasn't so bad after that; comparing it to the rest of the year, it was practically ROSY.

And now, to wrap up:

When things get bad, just remember that there is always another piece of candy. Or a cake with bumpy frosting. Or the simplicity of a plane that runs on rubber band power. Or a hammock by a stream. Or the fragrance of something cooking over charcoal. Or the smell of the grass under the lights at the ballpark.

Cue the music.
Fade to black.