Yesterday, I listened to Wisconsin’s Gov. Jim Doyle talk during his inaugural speech about Hank Aaron’s arrival in the state to play for the Eau Claire Braves in the early 1950s.
And immediately, my thoughts went to my Grandpa Maher’s own time with the Eau Claire Bears in 1937. He went for spring training, but didn’t stay for summer – as I’ve always heard it, he missed my grandma and Minneapolis too much, so he came home. It seems fitting that those would be the two things to draw him away from baseball, because they are inseparable from my image of him.
Today would have been his 90th birthday. I mentioned to Colin last night during dinner that I thought of my grandpa during Doyle’s speech, and he said he had the same thought.
Colin asked me how I thought my grandpa was going to celebrate his 90th birthday. By watching every great baseball game he’d ever watched? By replaying one of his own games, going four for four or five for five, and knocking in a couple of runs? By revisiting his week at Cubs fantasy camp? By kicking back with all of us and enjoying a cup of coffee and cupcake from Paradise Bakery? By splashing with Sean and me in the lake, as we did the day someone took my favorite picture of us together?
I hope whatever it is, he’s cracking a joke, smiling with that twinkle in his eye and knowing that he’s missed dearly.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment