An Abundance of Riches

I’ve seen more of my daughter in the past week than I did in the three months previous, not that I’m complaining.  On Sunday, it was Father’s Day; Wednesday we went hitting; and yesterday was what I declared an Australian Fourth.  That’s the Fourth of July a day early for uninitiated.

 

We hadn’t gone hitting since February at least.  I expected a lot of Mighty Casey at the bat and was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise.  “I’ve still got it,” said a certain somebody as we walked back to the car.  “Did you see that father bring his little boy over to watch?”  Yes, child, I did.

 

Yesterday was hot dogs and talk, about Michael Kopech not showing up in White Sox camp on account of an excused absence; Nike dropping Washington Redskins’ gear from its website; the odds of any kind of sport being played in the months ahead.  We also had coffee cake in the shape of an American flag for dessert.  I think my father would’ve approved.

 

We can’t go back to the past, at least not in the way Napoleon Dynamite’s uncle so desperately wants to (and thank you, Clare, for wanting to see that movie ever so long ago), and we have to realize that today is all about the “new normal,” however unwanted that is.  But as that geriatric Englishman likes to say, you can’t always get what you, but if you try, sometimes well…

 

He’s right.