Other Springs, Past Summers

Last Saturday, we went to the Berwyn Rec for early voting in the Illinois primary. Talk about stepping into a time machine, or out of one, I guess. Old fogies went one direction, parents with kids in another. An electronic crawler announced Pony Ball signup, and I began to float through time. The father with the girl who wanted to play baseball. Which she did spring after spring through seventh grade. Then, Sunday, I started clearing out the area around the trainset in the basement; my hope is to get everything up and running by my grandson’s fifth birthday come August. If I know Leo, he’ll want full access to every side of the layout. And, if I know me, there’ll be some purchases of very old Lionel equipment on eBay to spike his interest, and mine. Know that, both by inclination and by profession, I am a collector of things past. If the thing tells a story, I’m inclined to keep it. The trainset? That’s pure Ed Bukowski. A man with three kids always in need of stuff found the money to buy a slightly used Lionel set and built the table to put it on. I have all of that to remind me. The story boards Clare used in grade school and high school do the same. They were piled in a far corner, where Leo is sure to be standing before long. All products of one history fair or another. My daughter said I could pitch everything. “I didn’t even know you’d saved them.” But I did, and I’m not quite ready to let go of one in particular, “Mustang Madness!”. It tells the story of one of the summer Morton teams Clare played on; for three years, she a Mustang not actually in high school. All I can say is, the kid could hit. Anyway, she imagined the team—which won the summer league championship, such as it was—as part of a “Field of Dreams”-like movie, with Clare being played by Amber Tamblyn. Jessica; Jezebel; Alyssa; and one other girl were played by other young actors at the time. The photos pasted on the board are of achingly young kid-athletes, posing, smiling, trying to project confidence. There are two of Clare, one in catcher’s gear (that experiment didn’t last long, trust me) and the other showing her ready to hit. The stance that launched a career’s worth of long balls. Those onetime teammates have all gone their separate ways. My contribution to that long-ago team has two children of her own now, and one of them will be starting t-ball in another week or so. Time flies. I’ll show Clare the story board. Depending what she says, I may find a place for it in the basement.