Memories
This morning I saw on my FaceBook page where one of my fraternity brothers and his son went to a Mariners game his son got a ball from one of the bullpen coaches (John Wetteland, interestingly enough).
On Saturday I was chatting with a friend who recently bought an investment property for her daughter, daughter's husband and their children to rent. My friend was telling me how her husband has been doing some the work on the house with the grandkids, sort of teaching them a little about how to do certain types of handiwork.
Both are great stories because as adults (and presumably sports fans in the one case) we know that the kids in these stories will remember getting the ball and working and learning from their grandfather forever.
When I was twelve I got a baseball at a game, still have that ball and remember just about everything from that day. The game was at Fenway, the Sox were playing the Royals and a bunch of kids were down the third base line before the game and there was a ball on the ground and collectively we asked a female photographer to toss the ball to us. She did and I happened to be the one to catch it. Earlier Al Hrabosky was sitting in the first or second row signing autographs for (mostly) kids while I didn't want an autograph (even then I was not an autograph guy) I did ask him if I could shake his hand he gave me an enthusiastic alright and a hearty handshake.
As I was saying; memories.
While I do not know who said this first, you all have heard it before; it is about the journey not the destination and the stories from my fraternity brother and friend are both great reminders of this.
On Saturday I was chatting with a friend who recently bought an investment property for her daughter, daughter's husband and their children to rent. My friend was telling me how her husband has been doing some the work on the house with the grandkids, sort of teaching them a little about how to do certain types of handiwork.
Both are great stories because as adults (and presumably sports fans in the one case) we know that the kids in these stories will remember getting the ball and working and learning from their grandfather forever.
When I was twelve I got a baseball at a game, still have that ball and remember just about everything from that day. The game was at Fenway, the Sox were playing the Royals and a bunch of kids were down the third base line before the game and there was a ball on the ground and collectively we asked a female photographer to toss the ball to us. She did and I happened to be the one to catch it. Earlier Al Hrabosky was sitting in the first or second row signing autographs for (mostly) kids while I didn't want an autograph (even then I was not an autograph guy) I did ask him if I could shake his hand he gave me an enthusiastic alright and a hearty handshake.
As I was saying; memories.
While I do not know who said this first, you all have heard it before; it is about the journey not the destination and the stories from my fraternity brother and friend are both great reminders of this.
Labels: philosophy
Post a Comment
![[ Yahoo! ]](http://us.geo1.yimg.com/pic.geocities.com/us/i/geo/ao/us_cat.gif){kind=small}
