Sunday, March 30, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Almost Upon Us
The sounds and smells and sights are like distant recollections. They are old friends I haven't seen in too long. Soon, I will no longer need to reach back into my memory to gain some comfort from them. Soon, we will be together again.
This year the winter has been longer and colder than years past. The energy seemed sapped from the frigid air as though it was stolen and carried away in the night. In most cases, we never even got to say, "goodbye."
Ah, but winter's long bitter grasp is faltering... The ravaging cold darkness is giving way...
Very soon we will hear the first hints of their return. There will be a solid, thundering crack, and all who hear it will say, "That sounds like my old friend..." A hint of freshly prepared frank will begin to wisp into the air, and all who smell it will look around themselves to find the source. And then they will see it.
There it will be, just as it was when we left it, nestled amid the cold concrete and steel. The warm, red brick jewel box of summer with it's renewed emerald gem basking in the sunlight!
In just seven days, baseball will be with us once again. And all will be right with the world.
This year the winter has been longer and colder than years past. The energy seemed sapped from the frigid air as though it was stolen and carried away in the night. In most cases, we never even got to say, "goodbye."
Ah, but winter's long bitter grasp is faltering... The ravaging cold darkness is giving way...
Very soon we will hear the first hints of their return. There will be a solid, thundering crack, and all who hear it will say, "That sounds like my old friend..." A hint of freshly prepared frank will begin to wisp into the air, and all who smell it will look around themselves to find the source. And then they will see it.
There it will be, just as it was when we left it, nestled amid the cold concrete and steel. The warm, red brick jewel box of summer with it's renewed emerald gem basking in the sunlight!
In just seven days, baseball will be with us once again. And all will be right with the world.
Quote of the Week
"People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring." - Rogers Hornsby
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Just a Little Higher...
On the ground everything is gray. The tarmac, the terminal building, the sky, the horizon. A cold drizzle falls. Such is the state of this Chicago afternoon. Number six in line for departure, all checklists complete, waiting for our turn to blast off into the murk. Just another day.
"Eagle flight 436, runway three two left, tango ten, clear for takeoff, turn right heading zero four zero."
Before takeoff checklist complete, thrust set. The gray world outside accelerates past the cockpit as drops of water race each other towards the top of my windshield.
"Vee one. Rotate"
The sound of the tires on the pavement ceases, and almost as quickly, the once prominent gray surrounds us with its impenetrable shroud.
We accelerate. We climb. We are blind. Only the light of a computer screen hints at our progress. Our focus is directed solely upon that screen as though every other thing in the world has ceased to exist. With the blind faith of zealots we follow as the screen leads us deeper into the gray nothing. We accelerate. We climb.
There is little warning. Only a brief silvering of the once impenetrable gray alerts us just before we burst forth.
Light! Glorious, drenching, warm sunlight! The enveloping gray is powerless! Below us is a pearled white landscape, and above us is the clearest blue sky imaginable, stretching out as though it has no end in the universe. Just like that, the gray is forgotten...
If ever you are in search of joy, you need only accelerate, and climb.
It is always a beautiful day above the clouds.
"Eagle flight 436, runway three two left, tango ten, clear for takeoff, turn right heading zero four zero."
Before takeoff checklist complete, thrust set. The gray world outside accelerates past the cockpit as drops of water race each other towards the top of my windshield.
"Vee one. Rotate"
The sound of the tires on the pavement ceases, and almost as quickly, the once prominent gray surrounds us with its impenetrable shroud.
We accelerate. We climb. We are blind. Only the light of a computer screen hints at our progress. Our focus is directed solely upon that screen as though every other thing in the world has ceased to exist. With the blind faith of zealots we follow as the screen leads us deeper into the gray nothing. We accelerate. We climb.
There is little warning. Only a brief silvering of the once impenetrable gray alerts us just before we burst forth.
Light! Glorious, drenching, warm sunlight! The enveloping gray is powerless! Below us is a pearled white landscape, and above us is the clearest blue sky imaginable, stretching out as though it has no end in the universe. Just like that, the gray is forgotten...
If ever you are in search of joy, you need only accelerate, and climb.
It is always a beautiful day above the clouds.
Monday, March 10, 2008
No Rest
They say there is no rest for the weary.
When I am no longer weary, and therefore able to get some rest, I will devote more time to this blog.
When I am no longer weary, and therefore able to get some rest, I will devote more time to this blog.
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