Veterans Day
It’s November 11th, Veterans Day, and the flag should be out,
but it’s not. It’s not supposed to snow
so hard, not on November 11th.
Two days ago, I sat outside watching a college football game. Yesterday, we ran around the backyard in the
gathering gloom to mulch all the rose bushes before the snow came, on November
11th. And today I put the car
in low to drive on Harlem Avenue to drop Michele off at the train. That was both before and after I shoveled
snow, on November 11th.
All in all, I prefer to think of the Veterans Day fifteen years ago, when
Clare was in seventh grade. School was
out, and it was a normal fall day, nice enough for me to call baseball
practice. My daughter was not always
fond of taking grounders. She could hit
for hours, but fielding was an acquired taste for her. Naturally, we did fielding first.
We worked out at Baseball Alley, home to two fields. As a twelve-year old in her final at-bat at
the smaller field, Clare put a ball over fence and viewing area into the
parking lot for a walk-off (by the slaughter rule). Four months later, she was still putting
balls over the fence. We had to move on
to the bigger field, the home for Pony Ball.
Oh, she’d do alright her one season there, too, batting .322 with a .400
OBP.
I know Veterans Day isn’t supposed to be about baseball (or snow), not
really. We honor those who have served
in our military. That service helped
make it possible for a father to pitch batting practice to his daughter on a
day the snow saw fit to stay away.
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