John, age 4 Melody, age 2Hi Melody,
I would be a guest blogger, but I really don't have a lot of memories of life before Worland. But if I DO remember something I'll be sure to add it to your blog.
Every once in a while a thought comes to mind. For instance, I have never had any kind of throwing arm, whether it be baseball, basketball, frisbee, etc. I have one memory of playing little league baseball in Choteau (and I only remember one game). Dad was there and after the game he said, "At least you didn't step out of the batters box (in between strikes and, consequently, strikeouts). Then it dawned on me. I'm pretty sure Dad and I NEVER played catch of any sort. This is despite the fact that he was allegedly a very good baseball pitcher as a young man in Texas. I can't remember where I heard it, but supposedly he played semi-pro ball.
I'm guessing he always assumed that it was something that came naturally, or was taught by someone other than him. I coached my boys and their baseball teams for nine years. I always enjoyed it but was always a little embarrassed because most of the kids I worked with not only threw a ball better than I, but also knew much more about the game than I did.
As you probably remember, Dad never left anywhere without making friends with everyone. Unfortunately, that was about the end of his social and conversational skills. And, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, I inherited those same skills. I talk to everyone in restaurants, stores, drive-in banks, etc., and try to make them feel at ease (like Dad). Unfortunately, I cannot carry on a conversation of any length. It scares the hell out of me. I'm intimidated by almost everyone when in a one-on-one or group situation. I'd rather hide in the back or, better yet, not go at all. So, in addition to my tremors, bad heart, and bald head, our father passed these things on to me as well.
Feel free to copy and paste this if you like and if something ever pops into this mostly empty head I'd be happy to share it with you.
Love, John
I would be a guest blogger, but I really don't have a lot of memories of life before Worland. But if I DO remember something I'll be sure to add it to your blog.
Every once in a while a thought comes to mind. For instance, I have never had any kind of throwing arm, whether it be baseball, basketball, frisbee, etc. I have one memory of playing little league baseball in Choteau (and I only remember one game). Dad was there and after the game he said, "At least you didn't step out of the batters box (in between strikes and, consequently, strikeouts). Then it dawned on me. I'm pretty sure Dad and I NEVER played catch of any sort. This is despite the fact that he was allegedly a very good baseball pitcher as a young man in Texas. I can't remember where I heard it, but supposedly he played semi-pro ball.
I'm guessing he always assumed that it was something that came naturally, or was taught by someone other than him. I coached my boys and their baseball teams for nine years. I always enjoyed it but was always a little embarrassed because most of the kids I worked with not only threw a ball better than I, but also knew much more about the game than I did.
As you probably remember, Dad never left anywhere without making friends with everyone. Unfortunately, that was about the end of his social and conversational skills. And, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, I inherited those same skills. I talk to everyone in restaurants, stores, drive-in banks, etc., and try to make them feel at ease (like Dad). Unfortunately, I cannot carry on a conversation of any length. It scares the hell out of me. I'm intimidated by almost everyone when in a one-on-one or group situation. I'd rather hide in the back or, better yet, not go at all. So, in addition to my tremors, bad heart, and bald head, our father passed these things on to me as well.
Feel free to copy and paste this if you like and if something ever pops into this mostly empty head I'd be happy to share it with you.
Love, John
4 comments:
How nice of John to write. I don't think I've heard much mention of your dad. Hope he'll write more.
Now I'm worried. Except for the baldness (I'll get there), John's describing me!
Christ....except for the baldness he's describing me too....and I'm his sister. God I hope I don't lose my hair!
Nice letter. Reminded me how my adoptive dad was a semi-pro basketball player in college. They were so good they only had 5 on the team and played exhibition games a la Globetrotters. Although raised by an Uncle & Aunt on a farm, out of all the times Dad & I spent days together I never once saw him touch a basketball. This despite him being a teacher and us often spending time together in the school gym. Thanks for dredging up a memory & even a question about why we never played.
Post a Comment