The game started at 1:30 PM, by which time I was
four hours and ten minutes old, having entered the world at Englewood Hospital,
about four miles south of the ballpark.
My parents were both one month shy of 39. That means this August they would have turned
100. Clare was born four months after my
39th birthday.
She
was four or five the day we went hitting at Grandma and Grandpa’s in the
backyard; it was the first and only time I ever threw a ball to my father. Clare put on a clinic, lining balls into the
black-eyed Susans by the garage. So, my
parents had some idea what their granddaughter would turn into.
With luck, Clare will turn 61 the
November after I reach 100.
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