It has begun, the big project I've postponed for years. Decades. The clean-up, or clean-out, of my Little House. My wife insists: everything must come out, much must go. She's not wrong.
“I’ve been escaping the world here since 1996. It’s accumulated a
lot of “stuff” (see George Carlin) over the years, some of which
probably needs to go. It all certainly needs a good cleaning. So that’s
about to happen, we’re going to cart everything out into the sunshine
and see what’s worth bringing back. The place will never be the same
again - for better or worse. So here’s a little tour, before the purge.”
The job has its satisfactions. Yesterday I went through the glass cabinet that contains my little shrine to baseball, and uncovered a few delights.
There were all those old autographed baseballs, including the one I got Joe Torre to sign back in the early '70s when he played for the Cardinals, right before my sister's old Doberman Pinscher "Bo" teethed on it...
and the one I caught in the upper grandstand of Al Lang Stadium (before the "Devil Rays," before the desecration of futbol) during Spring Training of 1992, the only ball I've ever snagged at a major league contest (off the bat of the Phillies' Dale Sveum, later a Brewers and Cubs manager)...
And there was the autographed copy of George Plimpton's wonderful April Fool's saga of Siddhartha Finch, the book that I got him to sign in Cooperstown a couple of years before his death (his hearing must have been a bit off)...
And the mugs my dad bought for me, when the Cards won in '67 and lost to KC (and the 1st base ump) in '85. (Dad and I attended game 5 at old Busch Stadium.)Another reminder: I don't know what time is, but I do know it's the most precious thing we have in shortest supply. So, time spent revisiting treasured artifacts of times gone by is anything but wasted. I almost look forward to getting back out there and rummaging some more.
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