update on all fires in California

The focus of my writing has been on the basin complex fire. I want to pause a moment and provide an update on the status of other fires burning in California. According to the CAL FIRE webpage, maintained by the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, there are still 33 active fires burning. At the peak of wildfire activity (since 20 June), there were 2,096 wildfires reported by state, local, and federal fire fighting agencies. A total of 953,907 acres have been burned to date.

According to todays fact sheet 123 residences, 1 commercial building, and 138 out buildings have been destroyed. These are the stats for threatened structures: 4,958 residences, 139 commercial buildings, and 2,166 out buildings. There have been 15,573 personnel used to fight the fires to date. Evacuation orders are still in effect for portions of Humboldt, Trinity, Shasta, Lake and Mendocino counties. What CAL fire calls precautionary evacuation orders (aka voluntary evacuation orders??) are in effect for portions of Monterary (basin complex fire) and Trinity Counties.

For those so inclined, you can go here to download a map of what are known as the June Lightening fires in California. It is an adobe reader file. I spent a little time looking at the map. Fires range from counties near the Oregon border south to Santa Barbara County.

As I was watching the weather channel a little while ago, they reported on a wildfire of unknown origin burning on 100 acres outside Denver.

Apple Pie Ridge

I was first introduced, so to speak, to the Curtis brothers, owners of 55 acres known as the Apple Pie Ridge not far from the town of Big Sur CA while reading this entry from the Cachagua Store blog. Briefly, the Curtis brothers with the help of family, friends, and tenants set back fires and other fire fighting techniques and were successful in defending their homes from being burnt down by the fire. They did so because they were told that firefighters would be able to defend their homes from the fire. Their success came at a cost with the younger brother being arrested for arson.

The LA Times has a very good article about the Curtis Brothers, Micah and Ross, in the July 7 edition of the paper. I am accessing this article on July 19 and I'm not certain how much longer it will be freely available.

Reading these accounts of the defense of Apple Pie Ridge got me thinking. If I had heard national news media accounts of the defense of Apple Pie Ridge and the arrest of Ross Curtis for arson, I might have been horrified because what they did would have been completely foreign to me. I heard no such reports, nor have I been able to find any on the web. I am not horrified, quite the contrary. I found myself thinking about the courage and strength of character displayed by the Curtis family, their friends and tenants. They are the kind of people that I would want as neighbors.

Before closing I want to say that members of the Curtis family will be the first to tell you that they are not advising people to set backfires to save their homes from forest fires. Tyson Curtis, Micah's son commenting on an article on the LA Times article has this to say (comments made on July 11 from 3:01 PM to 3:25 PM PDT):

I have so much to say, but i'll be as succinct as possible. To those in favor of what we did: I DO NOT advise people to defend their homes and set back fires... we had two experienced fire fighters with us that understood the technique, and this is evidence in their flawless execution of fighting fire with fire. In fact, since we know every inch of our property I'm sure we executed our back burns better than any fire fighter could.

Second, this was more leading the fire than back burning, we were burning ahead of the fire only when it was several hundred feet from us... and so there was NO chance anyone was between us and that fire. Also, this made the fire burn down hill, instead of up, which kept the fire under control and actually put LESS fire fighters and neighbors at risk because it burned slower and more manageably.

I would like to thank the one fire crew who came up thursday morning and helped direct the back burn that we set in motion... (while we were cutting hand lines on the back side of the ranch where the fire was making a second assault) but as for the higher ups... well this is the third time our ranch has burned over, and i have little faith you'll be there when my kids are fighting the next one.

And a lot of people seem to think we waited until the last second to cut brush and clear around our houses; this isn't true. We cut brush every winter and maintain fire clearance around our ridge top... but in steep terrain flames can clear three or four hundred feet of clearance. The clearing we were doing before the fire was added precaution and when the fire crews showed up to evaluate our ranch it was nearly clear cut; they STILL thought it was indefensible... and were obviously wrong.

And as for burning down our neighbors houses, the main fire was coming, and if we hadn't taken action in a way that we could control the fire... it could have been disastrous for our neighbors. The proof of this is that everyone i've seen has thanked me for stopping the fire on top of our ridge, and not a single person has questions our means of doing so. Unless you know the terrain you wouldn't understand what we did... any fire fighter should know that!

The fire burned all the way to highway one a mile south and north of us... and it would have done just that here too, which would have threatened the seven homes at the bottom of our ridge.

(obtained from http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-backfire-gb,0,2173086
.graffitiboard on 19, July 2008)

Update on basin complex fire as of 7/18/08 PM

Kelly O'Brian, the author of the Life in the Fire Lane blog, who is also affiliated with KUSP radio (NPR) reported last night that the danger is not over for the residents of Jamesburg and Cachagua CA. These are the areas where the mandatory evacuations were lifted Wednesday night (July 16), and downgraded to a voluntary evacuation.

In an interview with Rick Hutchinson of CAL fire, Rick reported that the danger is not over for residents of Cachagua and Jamesburg. Specifically, they may have to go back to a mandatory evacuation at much shorter notice than the last time. The interview may be found here.

As I write this it is just past 11 AM EDT on Saturday, July 19. I checked my usual sources on the internet and have no later updates.

Kelly lives in Jamesburg and my friend lives in Cachagua.

I'll keep you updated .

Some mandatory evacuations lifted in basin complex fire

Kelly O'Brian, author of the Life in the Fire Lane blog, reported last night that many but not all of the mandatory evacuations have been lifted, at least temporarily.

I want to point out that many of those affected by these mandatory evacuations chose to stay behind, sometimes separated from their loved ones, to defend their property from the fire. Apparently this is not unheard of in this part of the country. This meant that they could get out.

If I understand correctly, at least some of the mandatory evacuation zones were a few miles from active fires so those staying behind were not necessarily in imminent danger from the fire. Where some of the zones were declared mandatory evacuation zones so that fire fighters could have needed road and other access to do their work. I think.

Five Zen Monks fight fire

The story of five Zen Buddhist Monks from the San Francisco Zen Center on Tassajara Road in Carmel Valley CA who returned to their compound after an evacuation on July 9 to fight the fire in their compound.

You may find a link to their story on this web page along with links to various updates.

Finally check out at least some of these awesome photographs taken by the five monks.

How the Basin Complex Fire got started

According to today's report (18 July) of the status of the Basin Complex Fire in Los Padres National Forest (near Big Sur) in CA, over 128,000 acres have burned. It is 65% contained. The estimated total cost just to fight this fire is $53.8 million. These figures were obtained from Inci web's basin complex fire page.

The fire was started by lightening on June 21, as were several of the other wildfires that are or were still burning. In my wonderings on the internet today I found this account with some photos from someone who was on a trail with a view of the start of the fire.

NJ Forest Fire Service helping fight CA wildfires

The NJ Forest Fire Service has sent 31 members to CA to help fight the wildfires.

For more information see this press release from the NJ Forest Fire Service.

Basin Complex Fire

I have been following one particular fire that is still burning in CA, the fire known as the basin complex fire currently burning in the Los Padres Forest (near Big Sur).

Why am I writing this? Perhaps it is to make a statement that this blogger who lives in the northeastern United States cares deeply about what is happening. Mention of your fires may be relegated to a small corner of my newspapers (if mentioned at all). I think about all affected by the basin complex fire and the other fires still burning in California every day. Perhaps what I am writing is an act of prayer, of letting you know that you are not forgotten.

One thing that has touched me in my readings of a couple of blogs as well as some e–mail updates I am getting from a friend who is living very near the basin complex fire is their strength of character, and the love they hold for their forest. I suspect that most know of the danger of living where they live, in an area known for fires. I am moved beyond words, so I won’t even try.

But to set a very brief context, please allow me to speak very briefly about living in fire–prone areas and evacuations.

Just as there are things that residents in areas such as Florida and the Gulf of Mexico do to hurricane–proof their homes there are things that people living in fire–prone areas can do that may reduce the chance that the home will be burned down:
clearing up debris from around the house, using flame retardant roofing shingles, not planting trees close to the home and the like. I suppose for many, these measures are a part of life. See this July 2008 graphic from The National Geographic Magazine about ways to make a house less forest-fire prone.

The house where my friend lives is, I think, still in a voluntary evacuation zone. But at last word, she was only one mile from a mandatory evacuation zone. So, since she is still voluntary, she can come and go as she pleases. But once a voluntary goes to a mandatory evacuation, residents are not permitted to go back to their houses after they leave. So, residents in a mandatory zone are living like rats in cages as some blogger’s have put it. They cannot go to the store. And if someone in his or her family was out of the house when the mandatory evacuation went into effect, well tough luck. Of course, hurricanes and floods can lead to evacuation orders. Not that I have been through either I have not. For more information about the meaning of various types of evacuations, see this webpage (courtesy of kusp radio) with definitions of the various types of evacuations.

If anyone in or near the region affected by the basin complex fire in CA or who has been affected by other forest fires in the west has any comments that you would care to make, I'd love to hear from you! :-)

For more information on the basin complex fire see:

1. Life in the fire lane

2. Cachagua CA Fire Department. Cachagua is one of the communities affected by the basin complex fire.

3. Inca web: basin complex wildland fire information (this site has current information about the fire. It gets a lot of traffic and you may have trouble accessing the site.)

4. kusp radio (near Big Sur CA, I think). This site has current fire maps, evacuation orders, updates, good links.

5. Monterey CA (I think) TV station (ksbw): videos, links

6. SurFire08 (community website)

Map of fire as of July 14 obtained from http://www.kusp.org/fire/images/map_basin_7_14_large.jpg on 16 July, 2008

copyright 2008 K. Tyler Miller

Speaking of fires

When I was in grad school I spend a lot of time reading about and then writing about urban encroachment on the Everglades in Florida. So, one of the things that I read about was the role of fire in the ecology of the Everglades. I hope to write about the Everglades and the recent fire of a few weeks ago in a later entry.

Fires in CA

I am switching gears.

Before going to Vermont, I had heard about wildfires in CA as well as fires in the Everglades in Florida in the late spring. While we were in Vermont, I heard about all the wildfires in CA on National Public Radio, especially the one in Big Sur.

These wildfires have touched me in a way that I can quite explain here.

Rather than try to find wholly inadequate words to explain what is going on, for those of you are interested, here are some websites where you can find out more.

The Big Sur community has a website called surfire2008.org There is good blog with updates about the fires and a link for donations. A friend of mine from the region has assured me that the money will go to people who have lost their homes and possessions. And they take paypal and snail mail donations.

Here is another fire blog, this one by a woman who lives not far from the basin complex fire.

According to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, there were 1,781 fires at the peak, 1,458 fires are contained, leaving 323 fires still burning. Over 675,000 acres have burned. Many but not all the fires were started by lightening.

This is a local television station, ksbw, that has newsupdates and links on a webpage devoted to the fires.

When the ordinary is extraordinary in VT: wildflowers

One of the nice things about coming to my cabin in June is seeing all the wildflowers around my cabin and in my meadow. They are especially beautiful this year, and I have never seen so many different varieties. Some of these flowers may be from the garden that my great-aunt Marjorie keep fifty some odd years ago. I suspect that birds and other natural processes account for some of the others. Some are probably invasives pr weeds and all are beautiful. Funny, what I consider a "weed" in New Jersey" is not a "weed in Vermont.

In any case, I have enjoyed seeing these flowers this year because they are natural. Here are some pictures of some of these flowers.

When the ordinary is extraordinary in VT: glacial erratics

A couple of days before I left for Vermont I was having an e-mail correspondence with a friend of mine from Australia. For no particular reason, I sent him five photos of my property in Vermont and the surrounding area. One of these photos is the photograph of the Lake in front of my cabin taken at sunset showing a large granite boulder sitting in about eight feet of water.

This is a favorite photo of mine (see the top photo), and I have about five different digital photos and who knows how many photos that predate digital photos. I have showed some version of this photo to many people over the years.

When my friend wrote back to me thanking me for the photos, he inquired:

“I find myself wondering how the rock got there?”

This very simple question got me thinking. I wrote back telling him the very short story of the geological history of this part of Vermont, that when glaciers passed over this area several thousand years ago large boulders were dropped at random and haphazardly. When the ice sheet retreated, these boulders, sometimes called glacial erratics were often left standing alone in a field, in a forest, or even in a body of water. In case you are wondering, according to local geologists, many of these erratics are granite.

Because it was only a few hours before my imminent departure, I had time for only the briefest of explanations to my friend, who also marveled at the trees. I wrote him a shorter version of the preceding paragraph and sent him some Internet links explaining local geology and forestry.

I was very glad for my friends question about how the rock got in the lake for it made me think about how unusual this rock is. I have taken this rock for granted for more years than I care to admit here. I never wondered how the rock got there because I always knew how the rock got there. I tried to put myself in the shoes of someone who had never been to this part of America before. I don’t take the erratics that are all too common in this part of New England for granted any more. I wanted to find one photograph that showed an erratic boulder in all its glory to show my friend (bottom photo). And I remembered this erratic on the high spot of a shoulder of a mountain. This photo is for my friend in Australia.

back in the land of the internet

I am back in the land of the internet. That is I choose not to have internet access (in this case dial-up) at my cabin in Vermont.

I'll tell you a secret. The entries that I wrote from 19 June on were all written before I left home. I did not make any postings from Vermont. But I did write two more entries that I will post now. One is on wildflowers and the other is on glacial erratics (written for a friend in Australia).

The ordinary is extraordinary in VT: maple sugar taps

Many of you, at least in the northeastern part of the United States know that Vermont is well known for its maple sugar. In march of every year when the days start to get at or above freezing and the nights are still cold, the sap in the sugar maples run. Maple sugaring is still very much alive and well in the northeast kingdom, as it is in other sections of Vermont.

Maple syrup comes from a stand of Maple trees, usually Sugar Maples, known as a sugar bush. I say my first and only sugar bush when I was fourteen, I won't tell you how many years ago that was. I was with my Dad and my Great-Uncle John in his wood plot on some land he owned on the side of the mountain adjoining the Lake. Uncle John had on old jeep that he used in Vermont, the type of jeeps that you might have seen in movies about World War II except it was gray and not olive drab. There was an old woods road that he could use to access his land from one of the town gravel roads.

Uncle John's idea was to cut a road from the old woods road down to the highway so he would be able to access his land. By this time, Uncle John was in almost seventy. My Dad and I went along to help him on this task that took about three days. I had a great time, by the way. Uncle John had an old chain saw that he used and I cleared brush and perhaps hacked away at smaller trees with a hatchet or a camp axe.

As we drove along this old woods road the first day, Uncle John pointed out a sugar bush owned by one of the local farmers complete with taps (in the trees) and tubing. I thought this was pretty neat.

I have tried without too much success to find this old road, all these years later, including a concerted effort about twenty-five years ago with no luck. Uncle John sold his land in the woods to his younger brother before he died. Uncle John got sick with what we know now as post-polio syndrome a couple of years later. For he had polio in one of the polio epidemics in the first part of the twentieth century when he was about ten. I don't think that he ever used the road that we built down to the highway, but I had a lot of fun and remember the sugar bush.

The ordinary is extraordinary in VT: a butterfly

I think that it was three years ago that I was outside my cabin in Vermont with my digital camera and was able to take this picture of a butterfly in the ferns that grow outside my cabin. I thought that this was pretty cool. Not exactly an award winning photograph, but I was happy to capture an extraordinary moment: seeing the butterfly when I had my digital camera

The ordinary is extraordinary in VT: cows

There are many dairy farms in the northeast kingdom of Vermont. At least I think that most of the cows that I see are dairy cows and not beef cattle, but I am hardly an expert. So seeing cows grazing in a field is a common sight. I sometimes great them as we drive by with a

"Hello, ladies."

Not that they can hear us we drive by.

When I was a kid growing up in the sixties, my Dad who went to boarding school in Vermont and summered not far from my cabin, used to say that there were more cows in Vermont than people. I think that the time is long past that that was true, if it ever was. But it was a nice story.

The ordinary is extraordinary in VT: wildlife

Being on a lake in northeastern Vermont, there is an abundance of wildlife. The call of the Loon’s is not hard to miss once you know what to listen for, usually around dusk. More often than not you are more likely to hear the Loons before you see them. And if there does happen to be one floating by within eyesight, if you do not happen to be looking right at the Loon at the right moment, it will dive under the water and you will miss it. I think that there is a breeding pair of Loons on the Lake. I think. However, I usually only see one at a time.

About a three minute swim from my dock is a large rock sitting in the water with a large ring in it. At one time someone may have used this rock as a mooring for a boat. Personally, I can not see mooring a boat to that rock because the lake is rough enough at times that I wonder if a boat would be smashed to smithereens! But the birds love to come and stand on the rock. Here is a photo of a seagull standing on the rock. There are some Merganser Ducks that breed near the lake. In the summer, Mama (or is it Papa?) will sometimes take her brood (sometimes as many as ten or more) to the rock where they climb up on the rock and sun themselves. They are quite a sight. I see them most every summer. It is hard to get a picture, as I have to be sitting out on the dock with my camera when they arrive. If I am successful this year, I will try to post a photo so you can see.

The sounds of the loon and the visits of the Mergansers are common. Harder to see are other animals such as beavers and minks. I think that I have seen a mink once or twice scurrying along on the rocks near the shoreline. I saw a beaver once. Every so often I’ll see a fish jumping in the water. Hummingbirds come around as well. I see the bees visiting the fox gloves on the side of my cabin, or the butterflies visiting the lilies.

The ordinary is extraordinary in VT: night sky

A few weeks ago I was writing on the general theme of when the ordinary is extraordinary. So, I thought that I’d revisit this theme as I prepare postings that will made to my blog when I am in Vermont and away from internet access. For those of you who are not familiar with Google’s blogger, there is this nifty setting that allows you to write a post ahead of time for publishing at a future date and time. So, as I write this, I am drawing on post memories of my time in Vermont.

In the section of Vermont where I spend time every summer, the night sky is relatively free of light pollution. On a moon free clear night, the sky is extraordinary. The stars are indescribable. There are so many stars that are visible to the naked eye, including but not limited to the band of stars known as the Milky Way. Most of you know that the Milky Way is the galaxy where our solar system is. But in a clear, light pollution free night sky, we can also see a faint band of stars of another section of the Milky Way.

My cabin faces west, so I am very familiar with the constellations in the western portion of the summer nighttime sky. I love to go out and lay on my dock looking up at the night sky. I am reminded of the magnitude of creation and find the stars comforting. I also get to see Venus when it is the evening sky as well as whatever planets are setting during the summer. In May, I saw Mars low in the western sky around 10 PM. Saturn was a little higher in the sky and should still be visible next week. Perhaps I will be to see the rings with my astronomical binoculars.

I’ll write back after I return and let you know if I was successful at making out Saturn’s rings with my binoculars.

Bob Gibson

I cannot write about baseball players who made an impact on me in my youth without writing about Bob Gibson. Bob Gibson pitched for the St. Louis Cardinals from 1959 through 1975, with lifetime stats of:

ERA: 2.91
Won/loss 251/174
Strikeouts 3,117

I was not a National League fan growing up, but I saw him pitch in three World Series, 1964, 1967, and 1968. St. Louis beat the Yankees in seven games in 1964, beat the Boston Red Sox in seven in 1967 before losing to the Detroit Tigers in 1968. He was an awesome pitcher and I hated him. I hated him because he was such a good pitcher who beat up on the American League.

I am sure that I watched the 1964 series. Asides from the fact that the Cards beat the Yankees, there was nothing much that stayed with me about that series. 1967 was another story. Gibson, killed the Red Sox. I watched most of that series, The Sox could do nothing against Gibson. The Sox scored three runs off Gibson in the three games that he pitched (1, 4, and 7). Gibson pitched on three days rest, pitching complete games in his starts. That year he had a 1.12 fifth on the list for single season leaders for lowest earned run average. In case you are wondering, Dwight Gooden had a 1.53 era in 1985 (43rd on the list). All the players ranked between Gibson and Gooden played prior to 1920. Think about it. All these years later, I still shake my head when I think about watching Gibson pitch that year.

In 1968, he had one bad game against the Tigers, giving up four runs in the seventh and deciding game, losing 4 to 0 to Mickey Lolich and the Tigers. Lolich gave up only one run, in the bottom of the ninth inning, a homerun by Mike Shannon, the Tigers third baseman. Those of you who are into such things know that the Detroit Tiger’s Denny McClain won 31 games that year, the last major league pitcher to win at least 30 games..

My hat is off to you, Bob Gibson. The hatred of my youth is replaced by awe and respect. Will we ever see a single season era lower than your 1967 era?

*With the exception of the reference to single season leader for era, the stats come from The Official Encyclopedia of Major League Baseball: Total Baseball, Seventh Edition (2001), Total Sports Publishing.

Trying something new

I am trying something new this summer during the next couple of weeks when I will be without easy access to the internet. There is a feature where I can write posts ahead of time and set an option so that my post will be published on a specific day at a specific time. So, I am trying this out and will be writing a few posts over the next few days that I will publish at regular intervals over two weeks.

Frank and Brooks Robinson

It was difficult to be a baseball fan in the 1960s and not to know about Frank and Brooks Robinson of the Baltimore Orioles. Those of you who are baseball fans, know that they are not related. Brooks was the 3rd baseman and Frank played the outfield.

As I was checking out baseball stats for my recent baseball writing in The Official Encyclopedia of Major League Baseball: Total Baseball (seventh edition, 2001), I was reminded that Frank Robinson won the triple crown batting title in 1966, one year before Yaz. Considering that there have only been fourteen Triple Crown Batters in Major League history, it is notable that there were Triple Crown winners two years in a row.

That year, Frank hit 49 homers, 122 runs batted inn, and had a .316 batting average. That same year, not surprisingly, Frank was the American League MVP with Brooks finished 2nd and the Orioles Boog Powell finishing 3rd.. This was also the year that the Orioles beat the LA Dodgers in the World Series. Brooks got his own MVP in 1964.

Brooks was no slouch at the plate either and he played a mean 3rd base.

I would be remiss not to mention Boog Powell of the Orioles and give him his due, another awesome hitter. He won the MVP in 1970.

I actually think that I might have seen an Orioles game in person in either 1965 or 1966, but my memory is fuzzy, so I would not bet money on this.

I remember watching the Orioles on television in 1969, 1970, and 1971. I especially remember my disappointment that they lost the World Series to the Mets in 1969. Neither Frank nor Brooks hit during the series. Frank batted .188 and Brooks batted .053. That happens sometimes in the World Series. But I do not remember them for not hitting during the 1969 series, I remember them for all their accomplishments through the years, and their two World Series rings (1966 and 1979) and four American League Championships (1966, 1969, 1970, and 1971).

Carl Yastremzki and Harmon Killebrew

Carl Yastrzemzki (Yaz) of the Boston Red Sox won the last triple crown batting title in Major League Baseball in 1967. He had 121 runs batted in, a .326 batting average, and was tied with Harmon Killebrew of the Minnesota Twins with 44 home runs. I was thirteen that summer and remember the hitting competition between Yastremzki and Killebrew. It was exciting to watch (or read about in the newspapers). In addition, Boston and Minnesota were in a dogfight for the American League Championship during the last week of the season.

According to 1967 season statistics compiled by The Official Encyclopedia of Major League Baseball: Total Baseball (seventh edition, 2001), Yaz and Killebrew were 1 and 2 in the following categories:

Runs: Yaz 112, Killebrew 105
Total Bases: Yaz 360, Killebrew 305
Runs batted in: Yaz 121, Killebrew 113
MVP (American League) Killebrew finished a distant 2nd (161 votes) to Yaz (275 votes)

Killebrew got his MVP in 1969, the year they lost to the Orioles in the first American League Championship Series. That was the year of the “Miracle Mets.”

I remember watching both Yastrzmezki and Killebrew on television during the late sixties and early seventies. Yaz retired in 1983, and Killebrew retired in 1975. They continued a force at the plate after 1967, but 1967 was special.

Horseshoe Crabs

I have always loved Horseshoe Crabs. I read about them in the New York Times science section on June 10, 2008. Seems that the marine biologists are concerned about a decline in their numbers due to habitat destruction and their use as bait. So there are counts of the Horseshoe Crab population going on in various places, including Delaware.

So, these articles got me thinking about the summer I was six years old when I met my first Horseshoe Crabs. My sister and I spent one month with our grandparents who lived on the north shore of Long Island on a small cove off of the Long Island Sound. My grandmother would take us for walks along the beach and we say many Horseshoe Crabs lumbering their way to or from the water. I think that they might have been spawning. Asides from our cat Figgy, and a parakeet that died of heart attack after being terrorized by Figgy, the Horseshoe Crab was the first animal that I remember seeing alive. I say this because we used to go to a museum where we saw stuffed animals in displays.

They are one of the oldest animals around, dating back to the time of the dinosaurs.

I have fond memories of seeing Horseshoe Crabs that summer and during subsequent visits if we were there at the right time of year. I tried to feed my banana one summer. Needless to say the Horseshoe Crab was not interested. I don't think that I have seen a Horseshoe Crab in years. I love them and I hope that we can keep our grimmy mits off of them and let them be.

Martin Luther King's March on Washington in 1963

Since I am writing about the summer of 1963, I would be remiss not to write about Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech that he gave during the rally that was a part of the march on Washington that year.

The only reason that I can say with reasonable confidence that I remember this speech is because this happened during the period when I was confined to bed. I can't say that I remember all that much about the speech itself. But I do have a distinct memory of watching Martin Luther King on television giving what could have been his "I Have a Dream" speech.

Perhaps all the networks televised this speech and I had no other option than to watch it. Or perhaps I watched it because of my mother's influence. My Mum was an admirer of Dr. King's. Even if my memory of watching this on television is a false memory influenced by the significance of this speech, I will always remember the summer of 1963 as being the first time that Dr. King entered my life.

Speaking of casts

The cast that I was referring to in yesterday's post was a rather impressive plaster cast that immobilized my entire left leg while my fractured left hip healed. I effectively spent the summer of 1963 in bed, about six weeks in traction in the hospital and another two months in this cast at home. It started just below my rib cage going down my entire left leg. At first it covered my left foot as well, but I soon managed to break the cast just below my ankle.

If memory serves, I got out of the hospital sometime in mid-August of 1963. My parents rented a hospital bed that they set up in my Dad's first floor study. This made it easier for my parents to take care of me. It was still summer. The cast was hot, and it itched.

As I said, I did not have a whole lot to do except homework and watching TV. Oh, and play cards. My Dad taught me how to play poker and black jack. I remember drawing into a straight royal flush in one of my first hands. I remember this because my Dad was absolutely amazed that this happened. A once in a life time occurrence.

I got the cast off sometime in October, and was gradually eased back into walking. Very gradually. By the end of October, I might have been in a wheel chair with restricted use of crutches. I remember sitting in a tiger costume giving out Halloween candy to the trick or treaters. On the day that John F. Kennedy was shot, I had an appointment with my Orthopod where I graduated to one crutch. I will always remember that day. As my Mother took me to the Orthopod, I remember seeing crowds lined up in shop windows watching television.

By Christmas I was walking without anything, not even a cane. After New Years, my sabbatical from going to school ended and I went to the fourth grade. Bummer.

Sandy Koufax

I don't think that I had any idea who Sandy Koufax was or what a great pitcher he was when I watched my first world series in October of 1963. I was still confined to bed, this time at home, recovering from my broken hip. My parents had purchased a small television (black and white) with a remote control that I kept in a little box near the hospital bed that they set up for me on the first floor. I was in a half body cast with the right leg free. So I wasn't going anywhere. So, I watched a couple of now defunct soap operas, cartoons, Dobie Gillis, and baseball. Oh, and I was supposed to be doing homework assigned by my home tutor who was supposed to be keeping up with my forth grade class.

In those days all the world series games were played in the afternoon. I suspect that as long as I did whatever homework assignment I had, or pretended that I had done my homework, that my mother would let me watch the baseball game. It was the Yankees versus the LA Dodgers. And I was rooting for the Dodgers. If you are so inclined, there is complete box score for this series found here. The Dodgers won in four games with Sandy Koufax winning two games. I watched Sandy Koufax in one more world series, the 1965 series

As a life long baseball fan, I am still awestruck by his lifetime earned run average (2.76). He retired at a fairly young age, somewhere around 30 years of age if I recall due to arm problems, perhaps arthritis. 165 wins. And hall of famer. Imagine what he could have done if he had been able to pitch longer.

Needless to say, Sandy Koufax was one of my first heroes, along with Don Drysdal. I knew that Sandy Koufax was special and in subsequent years I would find out how special he was. When people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I would respond:

I want to be the first female pitcher on the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Day games in baseball

Looking back on my childhood experiences as a baseball fan, it feels like there were more baseball games played during the day. For example, I can remember asking my parents if I could leave school early to watch day games during the 1967 and 1968 World Series. When I was recovering from my broken hip at home, I can remember watching the 1963 World Series, the Yankees v. the Dodgers. I know for a fact that there had to be some day games in 1963 because I had an early bed time and would not have been allowed to stay up late to watch baseball.

Baseball writers and sports radio talk show host will frequently bemoan the lack of baseball played during the day, especially around World Series time. All I am going to say is that I am glad that there were more day games played during the week while I was growing up in the sixties. I feel fortunate because watching day games gave me an appreciation for baseball and some of the dominant players of the era that I might not have gotten otherwise. I will be writing about some of these players, so stay tuned.

PATH tubes to Yankee Stadium one last time

For many years we lived less than two miles from what are known as the PATH tubes, in this case the Newark to World Trade Center line. So, for all those years and continuing after we moved further west in NJ when we had need to go into NYC we would drive to Harrison, NJ and take the PATH tubes into lower Manhattan.

The lower Manhattan station, as many of you may know was in the World Trade Center. There were some escalators leading from the mall–like promenade to the PATH station. Sometimes we would meet up with people, usually my older cousin, at the top of the escalators leading to the PATH station. This was a good rendezvous point, and reasonably easy to get to from the west–side subways. I have many found memories of the PATH station at the World Trade Center and environs. It was for many years, our gateway to New York.

When we would go to Yankee games with Anne and were husband, we would usually meet up at our house in west Hudson County and drive the short distance to the PATH station. There were some reasonably clean bathrooms in the PATH station that we would use. They also were not too scary in that we were never afraid to use them.

So when we had tickets with Anne for a September Yankee home game we rendezvoused with Anne in the PATH station at the World Trade Center. We were living in western Jersey at this point and drove to Harrison where we parked our car and boarded the PATH train. We met Anne and her husband in the PATH station, used the facilities and got on the C train to start the subway trip to Yankee Stadium.

This was an ordinary Saturday in September. We had ended up being invited to a wedding of some friends in Massachusetts after we had already purchased the tickets to the Yankee game. So, we regretfully declined the invitation. I was scheduled to have thyroid surgery 12 days later, knew that I would be busy at work finishing up various projects, and was looking forward to spending that Saturday afternoon watching a baseball game with good friends.

My scorecard showed that the Yanks were playing the Toronto Blue Jays. David Cone was pitching for the Blue Jays and Mike Mussina was pitching for the Yanks. The Yanks beat the Jays by a score of 9 to 1.

The date was September 8, 2001.

A memorable baseball weekend (part 3): May 28, 2000 Red Sox v Yankees

The four of us had purchased tickets during the winter to the Yankees home game against the Red Sox on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. We did not know that this would be our second game of the weekend. Our friends husband had to miss the game because of a bad cold, so we had a ladies night out and an extra seat for our stuff. The seats were pretty decent seats on the third base line in the loge (second) level.

I don’t think that I kept a scorecard because I had a notation on Friday night’s scorecard that this game was a pitchers duel between Pedro Martinez and Roger Clements with the Sox winning in the top of the ninth inning. I dug up the box score for the game on the Internet. Both pitchers pitched nine innings. Martinez gave up four hits and no runs and Clements gave up five hits.

Watching the two pitchers battle it out was awesome. The Red Sox – Yankee rivalry is one of the oldest in baseball. Crowds at either ballpark are always highly energized, and the crowds during the two games we saw this weekend did not disappoint. But the crowd on that Sunday night was even more energized because the game was scoreless into the top of the ninth inning. No matter whether the game is played in Yankee stadium or Fenway Park (in Boston), there are always a representative number of fans from the opposing team in the ballpark.

There were two buddies in their twenties sitting in front of us, one a Yankee fan and the other a Red Sox fan. Both were wearing Jerseys from their respective teams and were razing each other about the respective opposing team. As the night went on, they continued to raze each other getting a little louder towards the end of the game. It was all in good fun and they were very respectful to us, and especially so to our friend, Anne. Anne took it in her stride, later commenting that she is often treated as if she was someone’s mother.

In the top of the ninth inning, Boston’s Trot Nixon hit a two–run homerun off of Clements to make it a two –nothing ballgame. We did not lose hope, hoping for a bottom of the ninth comeback. The home crowd got even more vocal and more energized. The Yanks did not score a run and the game ended.

By the way, Anne’s husband watched the game on TV.

A memorable baseball weekend (part 2): May 26, 2000 Red Sox v Yankees

I think we got to our seats in time for me to fill in the rosters for the Red Sox and the Yankees prior to the start of the game. The seats were great, a few rows back on the first base side. We felt like kids, none of us had ever had such good seats at a major league baseball game. We were a little above eye level with the field. Shortly after the start of the game a waitress assigned to our area came by. It seems that club seating comes with seat side food service. She gave us a menu and said that she would be back to get our order. Since it was a night game and none of us had time to eat dinner prior to leaving for the game, we had decided to eat dinner at the ballpark. I have a note on my scorecard that we spent $68 in food, seems that seat side food service comes at a premium. I did not make a note of what we ordered, probably sausages, fries, and a soda.

The Red Sox got off to a quick lead, at the end of the third inning they were leading by a score of 4 to 1. David Cone took the loss for the Yanks with Ramon Martinez notching the win for the Red Sox. The Yankees only run came in the bottom of the third by our reserve infielder, Bellinger (playing 2nd base that night) with a solo homerun.

The most entertaining part of the game came perhaps one–third of the way through the game. We noticed a buzz in the crowd and everyone was staring at something behind home plate. It took us awhile to figure out what was going on. Finally, we looked in the netting behind home plate and saw a body lying in the net. We looked in stunned silence at the body before the body stirred and attempted to climb up the netting. The crowd cheered when they saw that the body, male, was indeed alive. He got up, took some bows and tried to climb back up the netting. It became obvious to us that he was drunk, because he was unsteady on his feet and kept falling down as he tried to climb back up the netting. We started to boo. At some point, we looked up in the stands over where he had fallen in the netting and saw some of New York’s finest. They were ready to cart him away. And when he finally got back up, they did escort him out of the area. And probably out of the stadium.

The game went on and we had a great time. We enjoyed being so close to the action. We were in foul ball territory. Nothing came our way, but I have a note on my scorecard that two balls bounced off the scoreboard near our seats.

At the end of the game, we walked a short distance to the parking lot. Since this was the first time any of us had driven to the stadium, the traffic jam inside the garage caught us all by surprise. Writing this almost eight years later, I want to say that it took us 30 minutes to leave the garage. The reality was that it was perhaps half that time. We resolved never to drive to the stadium again. The trip home involved going back a different way from the one we used to get to the stadium. I don’t believe that this was our intended route, but it worked out. We got back to Manhattan and eventually back to the GW bridge for the trip home.

A memorable baseball weekend (part 1): car trip to Yankee Stadium

Perhaps the most memorable Yankee game we attended was on Friday May 26, 2000. I think this was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I got a telephone call that afternoon in my office from a good friend of mine. Her husband had just been offered four tickets to that nights game with free parking. The Yanks were playing a home series against the Boston Red Sox. I jumped at the chance for club seating. Now, the four of us had tickets for the Sunday night game against the Red Sox, and none of us wanted to pass up the chance to have such good seats. These seats are only available to season ticket holders. We thought it would be fun. What could be better for a baseball fan then a Yankee baseball in the Bronx against the Red Sox on Memorial Day weekend?

Our first adventure was driving to the Bronx. Our friends picked us up at our home. We were living not far from one of the exits to the New Jersey Turnpike. Given the fact that it was Memorial Day weekend and we had cross that bridge, otherwise known as the George Washington Bridge (GW Bridge), we allotted extra time for our trip to the Bronx. As we all expected, we ran into traffic perhaps a mile or so before the tolls at the GW Bridge. We were in what are known as the local lanes. The traffic was inching forward when we noted that a young man in a nearby car got out of the car, saying that he would be back in a moment. He climbed up the wall and disappeared. We entertained ourselves wondering where he was going, coming up with a few possibilities that I won’t go into here. A few minutes passed, more than enough time for him to do whatever business he was doing. The three of us (passengers) peered out the window waiting for him to return to the car. We were still close enough that the wonderer could have returned to his car. Several more minutes passed, and he did not return and we were beyond the last exit in NJ. We wondered what happened to him and how he would get to wherever it was that he and his friend in the car where going.

Our next adventure came as we prepared to cross the GW Bridge. Game time was beginning to creep up on us, and we faced more traffic. My friend’s husband knew how to get to Yankee Stadium from Manhattan. It went well, he knew the way and there was little to no traffic. He dropped us off near the ballpark before driving to the parking garage and joined us about fifteen minutes later. We went to our seats on the first base line: section D, box 73. I’ll write about the game itself tomorrow.

The first two Bees of Spring

I saw my first two Bumble Bees of this young spring season yesterday. I have two flowering shrubs , Andromeda (I think) on one side of my house where I always see Bees. I love watching the Bees. And today, I saw my third. She was hanging out on one of these same shrubs for a little while. My cat was fascinated as it gave him something new to watch on TV.

Summer of 1991

The summer of 1991 was a very busy time for me at work and school. Baseball was my comfort food that summer and early fall. The Yankees, while far from the greatness they were to display in the late 1990s were better than they were the year before when the finished in the cellar of the American League East.

When I was not working or studying, I was watching baseball or hiking. Oh, yes and there were household chores and that dribble.

Baseball played a very important role as summer turned to fall. I was getting a little stressed out over a difficult project at work  Baseballwas about the only thing that would calm me down. It is hard to explain. There was the comfort of going to Yankee stadium on Saturdays, watching the game and keeping score. In addition to enjoying keeping score as I watch a game, I hoped to do so correctly where my card matched the one in the paper the next day. Keeping score requires paying attention. There are no announcers telling you what is going on, so if you are not paying attention you are going to miss how a baserunner gets on base. For the whole point is to keep track of every pitch to every hitter. The Saturday games helped to take me away from the rigours of my exam preparation.

As my project neared completion, I took great comfort in following the 1991 post season. Before I cheat and look at my Baseball Almanac, I’ll say that either the Oakland Athletics or the Minnesota Twins won the World Series that year. Now I’ll go and look, yes the Minnesota Twins took the series against the Atlanta Braves, 4 games to 3. In what the Baseball Almanac called one of the great ones.

One of the players on the Minnesota Twins that year was a third baseman named Mike Pagliarulo. Mike Pagliarulo or “Pags” played for the New York Yankees in the 1980s going to the San Diego Padres before ending up with the Twins in 1991. I enjoyed cheering him on as he got a World Series Ring.

That same year, the Braves had a 24-year–old left handed pitcher, Mike Stanton. Mike Stanton played with Yankees from 1997 through 2000, the lefty out of our bullpen winning three World Series rings with the Yankees.

Spring flowers and trees almost ready

It seems like any day now the trees will leaf out. The buds on the dogwoods are larger. When I look at the pin oak outside my dining room window I can see very tiny oak leaves as they emerge. The daffodils are starting to bloom; the crocuses were in bloom for a couple of weeks now and are just past their prime. I am happy that they did not end up as deer or rabbit food. I know that there is a rabbit somewhere around here. I saw it last night near my driveway as I was coming home.

The grape hyacinths that I planted on the south side of the house are starting to come up. Most of the perennials are starting to emerge from their winter hibernation. Yesterday we had a warm early April day, shirt–sleeve weather. I went outside and played in the dirt for an hour, otherwise known as weeding.

I have often let these early signs of spring pass me by, waiting for the day when everything is in bloom and the deciduous trees have leafed out. I was too busy or too caught up in my own affairs to pay attention to the process plants and trees emerging from their winter sleep. It is pretty cool. I am looking forward to watching this process unfold.

People in the stands

The first couple of years we had our Saturday season tickets we had tickets in the upper deck behind home plate. These were decent seats about half–way up in nosebleed territory. For me part of the experience of attending a baseball game is watching the people around us in the stands. If your team is playing well then there is a special celebratory camaraderie. If they are not playing well, as was often the case during the time we had our season tickets, well there is the bond of hanging in during the hard times.

We soon began to recognize other nearby season ticket holders and other regular characters. Sitting in front of us was a “family” from Queens. I knew they were from Queens because we saw them on the subway on Saturday at one of stations where riders from one of the Queens lines transferred to our Bronx–bound “D” express train. From appearances, they were a married couple with an adult son. The older man always had recent stats on the visiting team including a press guide along with a small notebook where he recording information. He did this every Saturday for the two years we had these tickets. One Saturday we overheard him talking to his son about the Mets, leading us to believe that they may have regularly attended Mets games, perhaps a Saturday plan? Most of the time, the Mets and the Yankees are not home at the same time so it is conceivable that one could be regular attendees at both teams’ home games.

We wondered what this gentleman was doing with his notebook and visiting team guides. Was he a very serious baseball fan, a participant in a fantasy baseball league, or something else? We never did fid out.

There were other season ticket holders around us in the upper deck. Most were like us, out to enjoy a game, perhaps keeping a scorecard like I did. Some had a portable radio. They were young, middle–aged, and seniors, coming alone or with a friend, spouse, parent or a child.

A father and adult son were near by. The son would often engage in a running commentary about the game, along the lines of a radio or TV announcer. Perhaps some would this running commentary annoying, we found it entertaining.

Then there was an older gentleman who would walk around the stadium with a small pot that he would bang with a spoon. I don’t exactly remember what he would chant as he banged his pot, but others in the stand would get in the act. He would offer the spoon to people in the stands, especially children, who would bang on the pot and chant.

The third year we had season tickets, we moved down to the third–base side of the lower level. Most of the seats around us were taken by an every changing parade of groups. We wondered if the family from Queens still had their tickets. We saw them one Saturday on the subway platform and had our answer. We wondered about the man, who walked the stands banging his pot, we were reassured when we saw him.

Rookies

Most of the time we got to the stadium about 20 to 30 minutes prior to game time. Arriving at the stadium, there was a feeling of anticipation in the air on game day. Even during the 1990 season when they were cellar dwellers. It might be the excitement of watching the young players wondering if they might be the next breakout player or a flash in the pan. For example, Bernie Williams came up in 1991 when we had season tickets, and we saw him play at least twice in 1991 and once in 1992.

My scorecard for a game played on October 5, 1991 shows that he had 5 hits in 6 at bats with two RBIs in a twelve inning loss to the Cleveland Indians. He was in the game the first game we saw in 1992 against the NY Mets on April 4. This was in the days prior to interleague play when the Yankees and Mets would meet for a couple of preseason games. He lead off the game, according to my score card he reached first on an error. Kevin Mass batted him home. \

Kevin Maas was one of those “flash in the pan” players. He hit very well when he first came up. He came up in June of 1990, hitting 21 homeruns that year, and 23 the next years. His hitting slacked off drastically after that. Eventually, the pitchers started to figure out how to get him out, and he never again was the dominant hitter he was during his rookie year. But he was fun to watch in 1990, adding some excitement to a bad year when the Yanks finished in the cellar. According to my Baseball Encyclopedia he played four more seasons, finishing up with the Baltimore Orioles.

Another player who only played a few months in the majors was a right–handed pitcher named Wade Taylor. He game up in June of 1991 with another right–handed pitcher, Scott Kamieniecki. We say him pitch one game on June 22. He pitched for 7 and one-third innings giving up 5 hits, 4 runs, 3 earned runs, 2 walks and 6 strikeouts.

There are a lot of baseball players like Kevin Maas and Wade Taylor that don’t make it in the majors. Some, like Kevin Mass have their day in the sun, others are like Wade Taylor and only play in the “bigs” for a few months. Many would kill to have the chance to play in the majors.

Riding the subway to Yankee Stadium

I moved to New York City in the mid seventies and began watching or listening to Yankees games. For reasons that I won’t go into here, the road to becoming a Yankees fan evolved over the next fifteen years or so. What turned the corner for me was having season tickets to the Yankees to a Saturday plan for three or four years in the early 1990s.

About two and one–half to three hours before game time we would drive the short distance to the local light rail station, aka the PATH tubes into Manhattan where we would take the subway to Yankee stadium in the Bronx. Our transfer point from the PATH to the subway was the PATH station in the World Trade Center. We had one more transfer point, West Fourth Street in Manhattan where we would catch an “express subway train” to the Bronx. If we were lucky, the trip was a little more than one hour. If we were not lucky, it could be two hours. The usual travel time was a little more than 1.5 hours.

We would always see other Yankee fans on our ride to the ballpark, especially on the subway in Manhattan. The stop for Yankee stadium was the first stop in the Bronx and the subway would empty, sometimes literally, as we left the subway to go to the ballpark.

Most of the time the worst that happened was that we would have to wait for the subway. Going to the ballpark, was not so bad. Leaving the ballpark was another story. Remember that the ballpark is in NYC, and even if you had a car like we did, many take mass transit of some sort to the ballpark. So, at the end of the game, the crowds would descend to the subway station back to Manhattan. There were two subway lines to Yankee Stadium and both were equally crowded after the game.

If we were lucky, we would get to the subway platform just after a train arrived so the platform would not be crowded. Most of the time we were not lucky. We would get to the platform to find wall-to-wall people. Having lived in Manhattan for over four years in my early twenties, I learned some tricks to dealing with crowded subway platforms. One was to go the opposite end of the platform from the entrance. We would politely make our way to what was the southern most end of the platform, the least crowded end. Sometimes the least crowded end of the platform only meant that you were not standing in a sardine can. The worst was when it was hot and humid. Our subway was underground, no breeze, and it often smelled. The wait may have only been a couple of minutes, sometimes as long as ten or more minutes.

Sometimes the train that came along would be so crowded that we could not board the train. At other times, we would let the packed subway leave, gambling that the next one would be less crowded. Sometimes we would take the local train back to Manhattan. Once we got on the subway, people would be buzzing about the game. As you can imagine, the flavor of the buzzing depended on if the Yankees won.

I said that most of the time the worst that would happen was waiting for the subway on hot crowded platform with various subterranean odors. We never got on a subway that broke down, that happened to me once or twice when I lived in Manhattan. But late one Saturday night after a night game, something happened that had never happened before. We were on the local train from the Bronx that terminated at the World Trade Center. Our car was almost empty. A couple of stops before the World Trade Center we saw someone running through the train. Then we smelled a terrible odor. Someone had set off a stink bomb. Everyone got up and walked up a couple of cars to one that did not stink.

Behind homeplate

For my eleventh or twelfth birthday my Dad took me to baseball game. It was the second baseball that I had been to. He managed to get seats on the lower level behind home plate. I had a great time at the game even though we lost. My Dad taught me how to keep score at a baseball game. To this day, I can’t go to a baseball game without keeping score.

I did not appreciate at the time how wonderful those seats were. I remember thinking that it was a little disappointing to have to watch the game through the mesh screen behind home plate. What a snot I was. I hope that I had the sense to keep my mouth shut. I have been to quite a few baseball games since then and I there was only one time that I had seats that approached the quality of those seats. You can’t even get seats behind home plate in many ballparks as they are all spoken for by full season ticket holders

The best thing about that baseball game was going with my Dad. We had a great time.

As an adult I moved to New York City and then northern New Jersey and became a New York Yankees fan. We took my Dad to a New York Yankees game a couple of years before he passed. They were playing the Detroit Tigers, one of his favorite teams. He lovingly chided me for being a Yankees fan and proudly wore a Detroit Tigers hat.

When the baseball bug bit me

I remember when the when the baseball bug bit me. I was nine years old, the year I almost died. I spent a total of about nine weeks in the local hospital, first with a very serious bone infection in my left hipbone called Osteomyelitis. I came home for a couple of weeks before broking my hip on or about July 4, 1963 and was in the hospital for another six weeks.

The first hospital stay occurred over my ninth birthday. I was at my sickest on my birthday, throwing the nurses out of my private room when they came into sing happy birthday. I also had one of the few TVs in the hospital in my room. I know this because I have memories of being very sick and watching TV. I remember game shows and baseball. Bone pain is the worst possible pain. It is hard to explain but the sounds on the TV, the sounds of baseball and game shows gave me some comfort. It was like there was something outside of the pain and the fever that I could focus on.

I also remember the room. The door was to the left of my bed. The bone infection was in my left leg, so I either lay on my back or on my right side. Lying on my left side where I would face the door was not going to happen.

I got better; I had a wonderful pediatrician, a real sweetie. I continued to watch baseball, game shows, comedies and cartoons.

During the first hospital stay, my parents moved to a new house across town. I remember being disappointed because he rented a pick–up truck for the move. I desperately wanted to ride in the pickup trip but I was not allowed to leave the hospital so I missed my chance. My Dad drove the truck to the hospital where I could see the truck from the window next to my bed in the four–bed ward that I was in pediatrics. It wasn’t the same.

I got out of the hospital sometime in early June, before school let out for the summer. I got out of the last few days of school. This suited me just fine because I hated school. When I got out of the hospital my family gave me another birthday party. Grandfather gave me some birthday money and I used it to buy a baseball glove.

The house we moved to was a really cool old farmhouse vintage mid 19th century with a wrap around porch. The house next door was on the corner and was owned by a nearby private school. The school rented the house out. The tenants when we moved in had two boys, Bebo was a year or two younger than me. Bebo was a nickname, I don’t remember his birth name. Bebo had an older brother named Rob. I think that Rob was sixteen or seventeen because I have it in my head that he drove a car.

So, I would hang out outside on my lawnchair in either my yard or Bebo’s yard with my sister, Bebo, and our basset hound. My leg was weak, so I could not move around a lot. After being in the hospital for a couple of weeks, the last place I wanted to be was in a house. Rob was nice to me and we probably talked about something, but we did not pay that much attention to each other.

I loved my baseball glove. I think I even slept with that glove. Whenever possible, I’d sit in my lawnchair and play catch with whomever else I could snag. Bebo was easy to snag, so he was a frequent partner. I spent as much time as I could outside, so I don’t really recall how much baseball I watched during this time. But I must have watched some games.

On or about July 4 we went swimming at a local swimming club. I remember this because it felt wonderful to actually move around. That is the night I fell and broke my hip. The pain was even more awful then the Osteomyelitis. I remember the pain and the whole neighborhood must have heard me. I found out later that Rob was especially upset at hearing my screams before my parents could get me to the hospital.

After I was readmitted to the hospital, I spent a couple of days in a private room. I was in traction with weights off my left knee and ankle. I was to remain in traction and in the hospital for six weeks. I have good memories of the private room because I faced the door of the room. Since I had nowhere to go, I got intimately familiar with whatever room I was in. It was probably a couple of days after my fall when I saw Rob walk through the door carrying a small magazine, the 1962 yearbook for the local baseball team. I remember being surprised to see him but the baseball yearbook put me at ease. We talked baseball for awhile then he left. Rob and Bebo and their family moved shortly after Rob’s visit. I never saw them again. And I will always remember them.

I found out later from my parents that Rob was very shook up when he heard me screaming in pain the night I broke my hip. My parents said that he wanted to come and visit me in the hospital before they moved. He would have known that I loved my baseball glove because I was never without it, so he would have known just what I would like.

I don’t remember how many times I read the yearbook from cover to cover. I knew every player and their stats. There is an advantage to being a sick kid in for a longtime stay, so I got one of the very few televisions in the hospital. In the mid sixties, there were many afternoon baseball games on TV, and it was the height of the baseball season. So, I watched baseball that summer. It did not take long for me to get hooked. I quickly learned the game. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do. And someone brought me my baseball glove. The local team was not very good, but that didn’t matter, the magic of baseball took over.

And I always remember Rob visiting me in the hospital with the baseball yearbook.

Opening day of baseball season

I have been a baseball fan since I was nine–years old. Like most baseball fans, one of the signs of spring is the first day of baseball season. Today is the first day of the season for many baseball teams. This year, the season actually opened in Japan last Tuesday when the Boston Red Sox played the Oakland Athletics for two games in Japan. Last night, in what was called the US opening day, the Washington Nationals hosted the Atlantic Braves in the opening of their new stadium in Washington D.C.

The Yankees home opener is this afternoon. As I write this, the game is in a rain delay. Perhaps they will get the game in today. Perhaps they will postpone the game and play it tomorrow afternoon instead. If so, that won’t be the first time. There is often a “free day” after a home opener in case of a rain out. A few years ago it snowed on opening day, only a couple of inches, and it had melted by the next day. I don’t think snow will be an issue, at least not in New York City.

I love the start of baseball season, not only for the promise of warmer weather, but because of hope. All the teams start out equal. There are no winners and losers on opening day. As April grows older and the teams work out the various kinks that always arise in those early games, the teams are no longer on a level playing field. There are winners and losers, but April baseball, is well April baseball. A bad start in April can be over come buy a few good series.

Not all teams can be “winners” or “in contention” for a playoff berth. If the team you are following seems to fall into this category, there is still plenty to enjoy. Most important, the season is not over until the last game is played the last weekend in September. So, if your team can stay competitive or has a “turnaround” in mid–season, there is hope.

And if you are reasonably certain that your team still has a way to go to be competitive in their division, what do you do? Can you enjoy the game? You can, you take pleasure in small things such as watching the young players develop, a well pitched game, rooting for your top hitters, and being a spoiler. Then there is finding humor, in well, being bad.

But I am getting way ahead of myself. Today, many teams are playing there first game, and there are no winners or losers.

Here today, gone tomorrow

I looked for the small blue “glory-in-the-snow” flowers yesterday morning after breakfast. I could not find them anywhere in my garden. At first, I thought that being up and out of the house before having my daily dose of java was affecting my eyesight. I looked around again, more carefully this time. I finally found the chewed off stalks. Someone had dined on them the night before. Perhaps the small group of Deer I saw running across the street about 9 PM Thursday night as I was pulling into my driveway had a snack? Or the also abundant rabbits having an early spring meal?

As I write this, the thoughts going through my head is to appreciate the small things when we see them. Thursday, I rejoiced in seeing the small beautiful blue flowers of the “glory-in-the-snow” flowers. They were not there on Wednesday and they were gone tomorrow. If I had not been paying attention on Thursday, I would have missed them altogether. The flowers are gone, but the bulbs are still there and will bloom again next spring. The beauty of their early spring blooms lives on through my writing and in my memory.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

First spring flowers

Yesterday we had a nice early spring day; temperatures were slightly above normal in the upper 50s here in central NJ. I took advantage of the slightly warmer temperatures and did some more work outside. So, as I was picking up more detritus in my yard, I looked at the garden near where I was working and saw that the crocus are almost ready to flower. I don’t think that it will be long now. In this garden bed, the deep purple crocus are the first to bloom, followed by the daffodils.


Then just an hour or so ago, I looked out my back window onto the garden next to our driveway and saw some more early spring flowers, chionodoxa luciliae or “glory–of–the–snow”. These bulbs with small blue flowers are also early spring bloomers. I have some more daffodils that I planted in this bed a couple of years ago along with some daffodils that were here when we arrived.

I was never much of a gardener before we moved here. We inherited some of the flowers in our gardens from the prior owners and I have planted others. Some of the shrubs that I planted did not make it. Most of the perennials and bulbs have done ok. I planted a rhododendron eighteen months ago in the front of my house that I hope will make it. Last year it had one beautiful flower. I covered it and the young holly with burlap to protect them from the cold winter winds. The young rhody has many more buds this year and I have my fingers crossed.

I am not going to win any gardening awards, but I do find peace and solace working outside in the garden. However, I am proud of the garden bed where I planted the crocus bulbs. I had to find shade loving plants that would survive the toxins from the nearby Black Walnut tree and are deer resistant. In addition to the bulbs and the existing azaleas and the peony I planted: an ornamental grass, ferns, pulmanaria, fox glove, and something else I don’t remember.

So as I wait for the deciduous trees to leaf out, I rejoice in the hope that these early spring flowers represent, the promise of more bursting forth to come.

signs of spring

At 1:48 AM EDT, the sun crossed the celestial equator. This is the vernal equinox or the start of the spring season here in the northern hemisphere. I always enjoy early spring as new plant growth is getting ready to burst forth. The daffodils started to peak above the soil a couple of weeks ago and are now a anywheres from three to six inches high. The buds have not opened yet, it is still a might cold for that. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, less or more depending on the temperatures, I will see the first flowering daffodils.

Another sign of spring is seeing some deciduous trees just beginning to leaf out. I noticed the very, very tiny leaves on a maple tree in my yard this morning as I was cleaning up detritus in the form of twigs and larger branches that came down in rain and wind storms in early March. I took a break from gathering these sticks to look at up at the maple and saw tiny reddish leaf buds.

My task this morning is another rite of early spring here in the land of manicured lawns: spring clean-up, picking up branches before the lawn mowing season starts.

During these times of economic unrest and global warming, I take comfort in the signs of new life that emerge every spring. The new life emerging every spring is an extraordinary event. I pray that in my small way that I may be a better steward of my planet for future generations.

Lunar Eclipse

A couple of weeks ago the Moon put on a spectacular show in the form of a lunar eclipse. A lunar eclipse happens when the Moon is full, that is when the Earth passes between the Sun and the Moon. During most full Moons, the moon is either above or below the Earth’s shadow. But a couple of times a year, the moon passes directly through the Earth’s shadow. Two weeks ago, we were treated to total lunar eclipse at 10:25 PM EST in the east coast of the United States. It had been raining earlier in the afternoon and evening, and there was a chance that it would still be too cloudy to see the Moon. However, the clouds began to break just in time, so we could see the Moon as at began to pass through the Earth’s shadow at about 8:45 PM. I was a little tired that night, but knowing that the next total lunar eclipse visible on the east coast of the U.S. will not happen until 2010, I made a point of staying up. It was worth it.

During a total lunar eclipse, the Moon is still visible, but it turns a reddish color. It was not the most spectacular lunar eclipse that we saw, but it was very cool just the same. Gazing at this total lunar eclipse, I was reminded about the wonder and beauty of nature. I am glad that I stayed up to see this lunar eclipse. Something truly extraordinary that reminded me, yet again, about how special the Moon is.

Moonshine and snow

Last weekend was one of those extraordinary nights, a clear cold winter night where the moon was a three days past “full.” It had snowed a couple days prior and there was still a snow cover on the ground. The moon was close enough to full that there was a significant amount of moonshine. I took a glance out our front windows and did a double take. It was 10 PM at night but for a few seconds it almost seemed as bright as an overcast day. The dull light cast by the almost full moon was reflecting off of the snow seemed to cause the snow to have a dim glow. I stood at the window momentarily entranced by the sight. The call of my pillows and a night’s sleep threw me out of my trance and the spell was broken. But the vision remains. Two ordinary events –– four inches of snow and moonshine combined to create the extraordinary.

copyright 2008 K. Tyler Miller

Moonshine

I love The Moon, yet all to often I fail to notice how extraordinary she can be. She is a regular in our night sky for about 25 days out of a month. The length of time that she is visible, depending on the phase that she is in, and the cloud cover.

When I lived in urban areas with their attendant light pollution, there were times when she was the only object visible in the night sky. Moonshine had little meaning to me for all those years because lights in the urban night sky masked it. I have vivid and fond memories of my first full moon in our then new house in semi–rural western New Jersey. It was probably in early June of 2001, and the sky was clear. Some time after the sun went down, I took a glance out side and was startled to see shadows. It was extraordinary. I went outside and watched my own shadow as I walked around our yard.

This was very, very cool! I was so excited. Like a little kid, I ran inside, grabbed my partner, asking her to come outside and see the moon shadows. I grabbed her hand, dragging her outside to look at the moonshine and the moon shadows.

That was almost seven years ago. I have seen, and am ashamed to say, ignored many subsequent nights where the full moon shines brightly, offering her soft light and shadows.

Sunshine

I was not quite sure what to write about today until I was sitting in my living room with my laptop doing some journaling. Our house is positioned so that we get some nice sunshine coming in our southwestern facing windows, especially in the winter. It was wonderful to see the sun, especially after a couple of grey days this week and some showers to come over the weekend.

So today’s ordinary extraordinary event is the sun, sometimes known as that strange yellow orb.

The ordinary

I wrote the other day about enjoying the ordinary. Ordinary activities have taken on new meaning to me over the last few months since returning from Africa. I met people who have so little and are among the poorest people on the earth, yet they are warm and happy people. So, I came back with new appreciation for what I used to call ordinary things.

And in the ordinary, I have found the extraordinary.

I get up early four days a week to go the local YMCA to work out. Since I get up about 6 AM, this means that it is just before sun up. I drove the two miles to the Y with a clear view to the pre–dawn sky in the east. And I saw Venus and Jupiter within about three or four degrees of each other. A simple thing, this pairing of these two planets was. Their quiet beauty struck me, shining in the pre–dawn sky.

Two planets I have seen many times before on an ordinary morning. But in an extraordinary alignment.

A couple of days later the were 1 degree apart. But I had to imagine the pairing because it is raining.

I'm back

I have to be honest. I have been struggling with resuming writing in this blog for a few weeks ago. I have been sitting here for about 40 minutes trying to figure out how to start writing again. Write a sentence, delete it, write another sentence, and delete it again. I went on like this for a while until I told myself to get a grip and just start writing.

I can only think of seemingly ordinary things to write about, such as the winter solstice. I always like the winter solstice because it is the shortest day of the year. The winter season lay ahead of us, but knowing that shortest day of the year is over always gives me some hope. It does take awhile before the longer days are noticeable. I write this in early February. A couple of weeks ago, I did notice that the days are a little longer. We go out to dinner to celebrate the winter solstice. I realized that this was my second winter solstice. This may have been a unique and perhaps once in a lifetime occurrence because I was in Malawi, south of the equator on June 21, 2007.

On that day, being from the northern hemisphere, I automatically thought that summer had started. Only to realize that, in fact, it was the first day of winter. And being in the tropics, the day was eleven hours long and much warmer than my usual first day of winter.

So in an otherwise ordinary year, I experienced two winter solstices.

Moving on

I have been posting about Malawi and related issues for the better part of a year now. Over the last six months, I have been posting about observations and thoughts taken from the hand written journal that I kept during my trip. Much of the focus of my writing on Malawi over the months since returning from Malawi has been in this blog, and I am at or near the end of what I can write about in this forum. While I have one or two possible writing projects that I will be working on privately and offline, I will be posting here about other things.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure what direction my blogging will take. So, my posts may be more along the lines of “random ramblings about what I am happen to thinking about at the moment.

Added on November 29, 2017 The writing projects on Malawi that I had envisioned when I finished writing about Malawi never materialized. Nonetheless, I am a better person for the two weeks that I spent in Malawi.

Nearing the end of writing about Malawi

I have known for a while that I am nearing the end of my blog entries based on my trip to Malawi last summer. At least this may be the end of this phase of my writing about Malawi. There are a couple of more things that I want to write about. One is my last afternoon in Malawi where we visited a program in Lilongwe, Youthcare Ministries, that has a residential/education program for young teenage boys. Those of you who read my postings from Malawi know that I was somewhat emotionally exhausted by this time of our trip. And I was homesick, counting the hours until I could start my trip home. I felt like I could not absorb anymore. Then we arrived at the Youthcare Ministries residential.

I met the boys in residence, toured the facilities including the residence and the classroom, and talked to the teachers. I was so glad that we visited. In some ways this was a highlight of my trip. I’m not quite sure why. Perhaps it was because as an urban planner who spent a couple of years working in urban America, I could “understand” what they are trying to do at Youthcare Ministries; to take children off of the “streets” and the associated lifestyles and give them a chance for something better.

I felt the hope because the boys are smart, friendly, and articulate. I can’t imagine what their lives were like before coming to Youthcare, but it was immediately clear to all of us how far these boys had come. So, there really was a feeling of hope. And when, even after six months have passed since my trip ended, I find myself despairing over some of what I saw, felt, and experienced in Malawi, I have only to remember the faces of these boys and the hope embodied in each of these fine young men.

Education in Malawi

One of the things that interested me while I was in Malawi was the difference in the education system as compared with America. Primary school, roughly equivalent to what we call kindergarten through eighth grade in America, is free. I am fairly certain that the government sponsors primary education, During our travels, we saw many school children, many dressed in uniforms, walking to and from school.

A Saturday children’s program we visited on our second full day in Malawi used the grounds of a primary school. The building was small. It appeared that all grades shared one classroom. If memory serves, there were few, if any, of the accoutrements in the school that we are accustomed to in America. Before traveling to Malawi I knew that school supplies that we take for granted here in America –– books, papers, pens and the like –– are often hard to come by. Many of us traveled with pens and pencils to distribute to children. Many Malawian children attend at least some primary school.

The situation is quite different for secondary schools. We were told that for every 10 to 12 primary schools there is one government sponsored secondary school. Entrance is by exam, where the exams are extremely competitive. I could be wrong, but it is my understanding that government–sponsored secondary schools are free.

There are also private secondary schools. While admittance is also exam–driven, I got the impression that the exams for private secondary schools were not as competitive as for the government sponsored secondary schools.

Sad to say, there is a gender disparity in secondary schools. One figure we heard is if 15 girls start secondary school in what they call form 1, only one will graduate.

There are four grades, or “forms” in secondary schools. I got the impression that students enter form 1 around the age of 11 or 12. After form 2, they must pass a test. If they fail, they either repeat the test, or they or out of school. After the graduate form 4, they must pass another test if they want to go to the University. The government pays the university fees for qualifying students. Students typically start university at the age of 16.

Many of the community–based programs that we visited try to include money for a couple of secondary school scholarships in their budgets. These scholarships then go to teenagers in the villages where they work.

People I met, part II

The other day I wrote about some of the people I met in passing while I was in Malawi. There were many people that we met who worked with Malawi-based organizations. In this group I include people that we met with over dinner as well as representatives from the community-based organizations we visited, and a couple of hospitals.

They are all extraordinary people with the same generosity of spirit and warmth that I wrote about elsewhere. They took time out of busy schedules to meet with us and answered our questions. Some of them acted as tour guides, showing us how to get to the remote villages where they worked. I always felt welcomed, never once feeling like we were imposing. Quite the contrary.

I wish that I could find the words to express that spending time with each and everyone of these folk had a profound and lasting impact on me. As the weeks have gone by, I have found myself thinking about each and everyone of them. When I do, I offer a prayer.

People I met

I have been reviewing my blog entries over the last couple of days. I don’t think that I have done justice to all the wonderful people that I had the occasion to spend some time with during my two weeks in Malawi last June. I am not just talking about the staff and volunteers working with the various programs that we visited, all but a couple being funded by the Global Aids Interfaith Alliance (GAIA). There were also people we met along the way: staff in the various hotels and lodges where we stayed, the children and adults we met in the villages we visited, storekeepers, customs officials at the airport in Lilongwe, South African Air employees at the airport, people we met in restaurants, etc. As I write this over four months after I returned home from Malawi, I am certain that there are people that I have left out of this list.

In some cases the people who stand out the most to me, over four months later, are the ones who are nameless, with whom I had the very briefest of encounters.

There was the smiling warm welcome of the customs officials at the airport the day we arrived.

All the children who mugged for our cameras.

The entire congregation at the Our Lady of Fatima Roman Catholic Church in Salima where we worshipped our first Sunday.

The foreign currency exchange teller the one time I exchanged currency at a bank. He had a nice smile.

The two young men at Senga Bay who sold me some beads.

A woman who worked at the Malawi Department of Health who told me where the restroom was. I did not know where to go, so I asked a woman in an office. She was very nice.

A couple of female police officers.

The students at the Lydia Projects secondary school.

One of the managers at the Hotel we stayed in Zomba.

The waiter who brought me some bread to eat during a power failure because I was feeling queasy from taking my malaria pill on an empty stomach.

A woman tending pigs in one of the piggeries we visited.

Some boys learning carpentry.

Our guide for our two-hour trip on the Shire River in Lilondwe.

A child with AIDS sitting in his mothers lap.

A village chief.

A young Malawian man who is a mountain biker.

Our guide at the Mua Mission who told us about tribal customs in Malawi, and how they differed from region to region.

Girls jumping rope.

After clearing customs at the airport in Lilongwe for the first leg of my flight home, Lilongwe to Johannesburg, I found that the rest room in that portion of the airport was closed. The customs official let me back into the main terminal to go to the restroom without having to clear customs a second time.

When people die

I was going through the journal I kept while I was in Malawi looking for my notes on the education system in Malawi, when I ran across something that I have been meaning to write about. That is, what happens to the possessions, including a house, when someone in Malawi dies.

In America, unless there is what is known as a Last Will and Testament providing otherwise, the house, possession, money, etc. will probably go to the spouse and children (or other family members) after the decedents debts are paid. I am being extraordinarily simple minded in that statement because I want to make a comparison to the Malawian way of doing things. We heard a couple of stories of how it works in Malawi. To put it simply, in Malawi the brothers of a man who dies can come and take the dead man’s property, leaving his wife and children with nothing. There was the young man, D, whom we met early in our trip. D had to leave the University in his third year when his father died to help support his family.

Another women we met, C, was finishing her Ph.D. at the time we met her. Her first husband died, and his family came and took everything. C was left with nothing. She worked hard, eventually going to graduate school where she met the man who became her second husband. C told us that there is a new law that says that the wife and children can keep the dead husband’s property.