Last year about this time Julie was so surprised and excited because she threw the discus almost 90 feet (about 30 feet better than she started the year at) and qualified for State competition (a feat she hadn't particularly considered). Although she never viewed herself as an "athlete", her coaches did.
This year she is disappointed and "had a bad day" if she throws it less than 90.
(ps: that still places her 2nd in most meets, behind her own teammate Kayla who typically throws 110-120)
Julie has gotten accustomed to throwing 95-100 feet, but now she has another teammate Mari who is challenging her. Once this year Mari had her best throw while Julie had an off day, slipping Julie into 3rd place - and Julie didn't like it! (who knew she IS competitive after all?)
Still, League competition has proven to be little competition with Carver generally sweeping the discus event - Kayla, Julie, Mari. Now on to Districts and States where the real challenges will be found (against kids from the BIG schools like Brockton and Fall River and Springfield, where there are dozens of girls statewide who throw over 100 ft).
GOOOOOOOO JULIE!!!!!!!!
================================
PS: Julie called to let us know she threw a personal best 103' 6" today for second place. Way to go Julie!!!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Why can't anything be easy?
The plan for the day was skip church (I went yesterday, played for Confirmation Mass) re-install the garden pond, set some patio blocks that are going where the pond used to be, and try to fix Sue's bikes brakes.
9:00am - Skip church - done (funny side note: I know a referee who's name is Skip Church. I wonder how many Sunday morning games he does?)
9:30 am - Fix Sue's bike - the rear brake cable is rusted solid so I have to buy a new one and I didn't get as far as testing out the gear shifter which also isn't working, so - NOT done.
10:00am - there is a big root smack dab in the middle of where the pond is being located. The bow saw is too flimsy, the reciprocal saw blade isn't big enough, but the chain saw surprisingly started up easy and did the job so the hole is dug. Unfortunately, there is a crack in the plastic pond so I have to get some sealant at the hardware store.
11:00am - at the hardware store and Sue calls. She is at the high school and the truck won't start.
11:30am - can't get the truck restarted. Mr Rezendez the school janitor give a jump start. I need to go get a new battery. I leave Sue the van and take the truck home. The stupid clamp that holds the battery in place won't let go, so I fix the leak in the pond and set it in place and back-filling it. - Pond done (well, not filled, but it's in place).
1:30PM - BOY do I wish I had told Joe "no" to the friends birthday party (30 minutes away) but I drive Corey to work, pick up a card for the birthday boy, and drive Joe to The Charlie Horse restaurant and arcade in West Bridgewater. After meeting the mother (new people we don't know) and seeing which of Joes rowdy friends are there, I figure I can run over to K-Mart in Brockton and get a new battery. The handy vehicle year/model chart tells me which battery I need - of course the one they are out of. I do manage to get a package of new bike cables.
4:30pm - pick up Joe, manage to get him out of the arcade by 5:00 and home at 5:30pm to cook supper.
6:00pm - finally find the the ratchett wrench I needed to un-screww the battery clamp
6:15pm - discover that Sears is open until 7:00pm
6:30pm - arrive at Sears, but the Auto Department guy says he's closed. But when he discovers I only need a battery, he determines it can be rung in at a different register. He looks up the battery I need, but it doesn't match the size that K-Mart determined. The one Sears says looks too small and doesn't have the same "650 cold cranking amperage" as the one currently in the truck. The clerk snootily offers to show me what his computer says, so because the "bring your final selections to the register" announcement is being made - I go for it.
7:15pm - battery installed and the truck starts, the pond is in but not filled, the patio bricks that Joe put down for me will need to be re-done, Sue's bike seat is raised and I have new cables but when I get back to it is anybodies guess.
9:00am - Skip church - done (funny side note: I know a referee who's name is Skip Church. I wonder how many Sunday morning games he does?)
9:30 am - Fix Sue's bike - the rear brake cable is rusted solid so I have to buy a new one and I didn't get as far as testing out the gear shifter which also isn't working, so - NOT done.
10:00am - there is a big root smack dab in the middle of where the pond is being located. The bow saw is too flimsy, the reciprocal saw blade isn't big enough, but the chain saw surprisingly started up easy and did the job so the hole is dug. Unfortunately, there is a crack in the plastic pond so I have to get some sealant at the hardware store.
11:00am - at the hardware store and Sue calls. She is at the high school and the truck won't start.
11:30am - can't get the truck restarted. Mr Rezendez the school janitor give a jump start. I need to go get a new battery. I leave Sue the van and take the truck home. The stupid clamp that holds the battery in place won't let go, so I fix the leak in the pond and set it in place and back-filling it. - Pond done (well, not filled, but it's in place).
1:30PM - BOY do I wish I had told Joe "no" to the friends birthday party (30 minutes away) but I drive Corey to work, pick up a card for the birthday boy, and drive Joe to The Charlie Horse restaurant and arcade in West Bridgewater. After meeting the mother (new people we don't know) and seeing which of Joes rowdy friends are there, I figure I can run over to K-Mart in Brockton and get a new battery. The handy vehicle year/model chart tells me which battery I need - of course the one they are out of. I do manage to get a package of new bike cables.
4:30pm - pick up Joe, manage to get him out of the arcade by 5:00 and home at 5:30pm to cook supper.
6:00pm - finally find the the ratchett wrench I needed to un-screww the battery clamp
6:15pm - discover that Sears is open until 7:00pm
6:30pm - arrive at Sears, but the Auto Department guy says he's closed. But when he discovers I only need a battery, he determines it can be rung in at a different register. He looks up the battery I need, but it doesn't match the size that K-Mart determined. The one Sears says looks too small and doesn't have the same "650 cold cranking amperage" as the one currently in the truck. The clerk snootily offers to show me what his computer says, so because the "bring your final selections to the register" announcement is being made - I go for it.
7:15pm - battery installed and the truck starts, the pond is in but not filled, the patio bricks that Joe put down for me will need to be re-done, Sue's bike seat is raised and I have new cables but when I get back to it is anybodies guess.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Mothers Day - A Walk in the Park
Fenway Park, that is!
The Red Sox do a cool thing on Mothers Day - they open up Fenway from 11:00am through 2:00pm for free. You get to enter at gate "C" (under the center field bleachers), go out onto the warning track next to the visiting teams bullpen, and -staying only on the dirt "warning track" - walk the entire perimeter of the field. It was beautiful weather, the crowd numbered in the thousands (bigger than at some teams games!), and parking was free. We (me, Sue, Corey, Julie, Jamie, Nikki, and Joe) happily checked out the dents make from fly balls, practiced making imaginary leaping catches against the padded outfield wall, inspected the "green monster", the dugouts and the bullpens. Various family members imagined themselves actually playing on the field (Sue, Corey, Nikki & Joe) and Joe scooped a pocket-full of Fenway dirt from center field. Just before leaving the building, Sue bought a raffle ticket for an authentic 2007 Championship Ring (valued at aprox. $20,000 - nine rings being offered) or a special edition "Red Sox Audi 30" (valued at aprox. $30,000). Joe spent a moment in awe at the 5-piece jazz band (drummer, trumpet, sax, trombone & tuba) playing just outside of the mens room in the concourse. All in all, it was a fun adventure for everybody - especially the Red Sox Fan Mom who still has her "Bill Lee scrap book" in her hope chest. The people she loves the most (although missing Mary & Tim), good behavior, great weather, and St. Ted's Cathedral - doesn't get much better than that!
Happy Mothers Day, Sue
(Soon you should be able to see a video-ography edition of our trip on Sue's blog, once she edits and adds a musical score and graphics)
The Red Sox do a cool thing on Mothers Day - they open up Fenway from 11:00am through 2:00pm for free. You get to enter at gate "C" (under the center field bleachers), go out onto the warning track next to the visiting teams bullpen, and -staying only on the dirt "warning track" - walk the entire perimeter of the field. It was beautiful weather, the crowd numbered in the thousands (bigger than at some teams games!), and parking was free. We (me, Sue, Corey, Julie, Jamie, Nikki, and Joe) happily checked out the dents make from fly balls, practiced making imaginary leaping catches against the padded outfield wall, inspected the "green monster", the dugouts and the bullpens. Various family members imagined themselves actually playing on the field (Sue, Corey, Nikki & Joe) and Joe scooped a pocket-full of Fenway dirt from center field. Just before leaving the building, Sue bought a raffle ticket for an authentic 2007 Championship Ring (valued at aprox. $20,000 - nine rings being offered) or a special edition "Red Sox Audi 30" (valued at aprox. $30,000). Joe spent a moment in awe at the 5-piece jazz band (drummer, trumpet, sax, trombone & tuba) playing just outside of the mens room in the concourse. All in all, it was a fun adventure for everybody - especially the Red Sox Fan Mom who still has her "Bill Lee scrap book" in her hope chest. The people she loves the most (although missing Mary & Tim), good behavior, great weather, and St. Ted's Cathedral - doesn't get much better than that!
Happy Mothers Day, Sue
(Soon you should be able to see a video-ography edition of our trip on Sue's blog, once she edits and adds a musical score and graphics)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
End of an Era
The family daily schedule has been such that thinking I might have time to coach is a conclusion that no intelligent person would ever arrive at. Last year I knew it, but ended up being an assistant coach to Nikki's softball team anyway, and it was fairly disasterous (logistically and emotionally) and unfullfilling. This year we originally thought things might be different, but after filling in the calendar with Nikki's softball, Joe's baseball, Jamies 4-H, Yon's swimming and basketball, Tim's bingo setup, Sue's work schedules - what should have been obvious became undeniable. So no coaching this year for me and there is a major flaw with the "maybe next year" theory - although she can play town ball for two more years, Nikki is a very good pitcher so it can be presumed that next year (and each year afterward) she will be playing ball for the school instead of the town league. Joe has a few more years of Little League left, but the politics involved pretty much remove any opportunity for me to coach his team. There is nobody left to coach after them. So - although it's not absolutely 100% for certain, I am in all likelyhood in coaching retirement now. For 30 years and four sports and thousands of players, being a coach has been an important part of my identity and is largely responsible for who I am.
And now I'm not.
And now I'm not.
Friday, April 18, 2008
The more things change, the more they stay the same
25 years ago
Let’s see if my memory is even close to correct. April 1983 – I was 28 years old, engaged to be married, working in Imperia’s cabinet factory, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season, living at home after a year of living in Halifax with brother Wes and friend Deane S. and I wasn’t playing in a band at the moment. I did believe that love and marriage were a lifelong thing, and thankfully I had found someone who I could easily envision spending that much time with. I assumed we would have a few children, and we would go on lots of adventures, hiking/camping trips, play and coach sports teams, and have a happy idyllic life. I assumed that I would work until retirement age, and that Sue would finish college and go on to some interesting career – but neither of us would be in “all-consuming jobs” that leave little time for family and fun. I assumed that we would enjoy grandchildren, growing old together while continuing to adventurously explore the world, and eventually I (being 8 years older) would die first.
Now – 25 years later
Cardinal Sean O’Malley celebrated a special anniversary Mass for any couples in the Archdiocese who would celebrate 25 or 50 year anniversaries in the current calendar year of 2008. That’ll be us on August 27th.
http://www.thebostonpilot.com/article.asp?ID=6185 (we’re quoted)
http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1
http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1
Making it to 25 years I would have predicted, but it didn’t occur to me that I would be a Catholic. I’m working at Imperia (again – after moving to a few other companies along the way) in the office, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season (Nikki’s 6th-8th grade town league team), and not currently playing in a band (the recent audition didn’t pan out – yet). I live at home (mine/ours – not Mom’s). I still believe that love and marriage are life-long, and I love the prospects of sharing it all with Sue. I sometimes find it discouraging that time and money are too often too tight to allow the amount of adventuring and exploring I envisioned, but we still manage to squeeze in a bit now and then. Although I never would have planned on seven (and then some) children, and despite the fact that "they" can at times be all consuming (making "us" a nice theory on paper but often a difficult one to actually demonstrate in real life), they are all special and each one brings something to my life that makes it more special. Despite my occasional complaints about the sheer volume of kids, at the same time there is of course not one that I regret or love less. (don’t get me wrong – that doesn’t mean that any given moment on any given day I wouldn’t eagerly trade any one of them straight up for one of their polite friends) Of the many Foster Children who didn’t stay, there were many that I could simultaneously wish they individually did and be glad they collectively didn’t. I assume that I will have to work well beyond retirement age. Last year, Sue finished college (well, she got her 1st degree – although she probably isn’t actually “finished” yet) and with any luck will find a new interesting career – one that will afford us more family time and adventures. None of the kids are likely to be giving us grandchildren in the near future – if I had to venture a guess, no earlier than 3 years away. As our children grow older, Sue and I should be able to start finding more time to adventurously explore more of the world – let’s hope while I still have the strength of body and soundness of mind to do so. At present, I INSIST that I die first (although if I’m still alive once the kids are all independent adults, I might relax that demand).
Next 25 years
I’d be 78 years old (and STILL 8 years older than Sue) which would make me a rarity compared to my male ancestors from both sides of my gene pool. I pray that Sue will still be as giddily in love with me as she was 25 years ago and still is today (if I screw that up, I don’t deserve to live that long anyway). I pray that as more and more kids move on to independence that I more and more rededicate time and attention to Sue. I will probably NOT be in a band at that point (at that point, country-western would be my only viable option and she never really cared for that), but I hope I am still able to play the guitar. I hope we both will be healthy enough to do some mountain climbing between now and then – I really want her to see the view of Baxter Peak from Chimney Pond Cabin and then of Chimney Pond from the Knifes Edge on Mt Katahdin. At 78 I hope I can at least enjoy fall walks in the woods. At 78 I hope I can proudly stand before the Cardinal in some grand cathedral, with my 70 year old trophy wife of 50 years – the continuing love of my life, surrounded by loving children and grandchildren whom we have stayed close to (not TOO close) and been an inspiration to. I promise that I won’t give her a hard time about spending money on a new dress for the occasion, or about calling the Mass a ‘wedding’. If she is willing to hold my hand and publicly and unashamedly repeat those vows to me for a third time, I shall be the happiest and most fortunate old geezer in the world – just like in 1983 and 2008. And – the same as each of those occasions – I will pray that I have been and can continue to be deserving of her adoration.
(some things will never change)
Let’s see if my memory is even close to correct. April 1983 – I was 28 years old, engaged to be married, working in Imperia’s cabinet factory, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season, living at home after a year of living in Halifax with brother Wes and friend Deane S. and I wasn’t playing in a band at the moment. I did believe that love and marriage were a lifelong thing, and thankfully I had found someone who I could easily envision spending that much time with. I assumed we would have a few children, and we would go on lots of adventures, hiking/camping trips, play and coach sports teams, and have a happy idyllic life. I assumed that I would work until retirement age, and that Sue would finish college and go on to some interesting career – but neither of us would be in “all-consuming jobs” that leave little time for family and fun. I assumed that we would enjoy grandchildren, growing old together while continuing to adventurously explore the world, and eventually I (being 8 years older) would die first.
Now – 25 years later
Cardinal Sean O’Malley celebrated a special anniversary Mass for any couples in the Archdiocese who would celebrate 25 or 50 year anniversaries in the current calendar year of 2008. That’ll be us on August 27th.
http://www.thebostonpilot.com/article.asp?ID=6185 (we’re quoted)
http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1
http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1
Making it to 25 years I would have predicted, but it didn’t occur to me that I would be a Catholic. I’m working at Imperia (again – after moving to a few other companies along the way) in the office, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season (Nikki’s 6th-8th grade town league team), and not currently playing in a band (the recent audition didn’t pan out – yet). I live at home (mine/ours – not Mom’s). I still believe that love and marriage are life-long, and I love the prospects of sharing it all with Sue. I sometimes find it discouraging that time and money are too often too tight to allow the amount of adventuring and exploring I envisioned, but we still manage to squeeze in a bit now and then. Although I never would have planned on seven (and then some) children, and despite the fact that "they" can at times be all consuming (making "us" a nice theory on paper but often a difficult one to actually demonstrate in real life), they are all special and each one brings something to my life that makes it more special. Despite my occasional complaints about the sheer volume of kids, at the same time there is of course not one that I regret or love less. (don’t get me wrong – that doesn’t mean that any given moment on any given day I wouldn’t eagerly trade any one of them straight up for one of their polite friends) Of the many Foster Children who didn’t stay, there were many that I could simultaneously wish they individually did and be glad they collectively didn’t. I assume that I will have to work well beyond retirement age. Last year, Sue finished college (well, she got her 1st degree – although she probably isn’t actually “finished” yet) and with any luck will find a new interesting career – one that will afford us more family time and adventures. None of the kids are likely to be giving us grandchildren in the near future – if I had to venture a guess, no earlier than 3 years away. As our children grow older, Sue and I should be able to start finding more time to adventurously explore more of the world – let’s hope while I still have the strength of body and soundness of mind to do so. At present, I INSIST that I die first (although if I’m still alive once the kids are all independent adults, I might relax that demand).
Next 25 years
I’d be 78 years old (and STILL 8 years older than Sue) which would make me a rarity compared to my male ancestors from both sides of my gene pool. I pray that Sue will still be as giddily in love with me as she was 25 years ago and still is today (if I screw that up, I don’t deserve to live that long anyway). I pray that as more and more kids move on to independence that I more and more rededicate time and attention to Sue. I will probably NOT be in a band at that point (at that point, country-western would be my only viable option and she never really cared for that), but I hope I am still able to play the guitar. I hope we both will be healthy enough to do some mountain climbing between now and then – I really want her to see the view of Baxter Peak from Chimney Pond Cabin and then of Chimney Pond from the Knifes Edge on Mt Katahdin. At 78 I hope I can at least enjoy fall walks in the woods. At 78 I hope I can proudly stand before the Cardinal in some grand cathedral, with my 70 year old trophy wife of 50 years – the continuing love of my life, surrounded by loving children and grandchildren whom we have stayed close to (not TOO close) and been an inspiration to. I promise that I won’t give her a hard time about spending money on a new dress for the occasion, or about calling the Mass a ‘wedding’. If she is willing to hold my hand and publicly and unashamedly repeat those vows to me for a third time, I shall be the happiest and most fortunate old geezer in the world – just like in 1983 and 2008. And – the same as each of those occasions – I will pray that I have been and can continue to be deserving of her adoration.
(some things will never change)
Monday, April 14, 2008
:-( guess I'm too rusty
(email from Richard M)
Hey Don,
Wish I had some good news for you regarding the band position but unfortunately I don't.
We are still looking for someone that's a perfect fit, may take forever I guess.
I want you to know that we were really hoping that you'd be the one for us.
I guess we're looking for someone who could step in and be quickly up to speed with what we were doing.
The best to you and it was really a pleasure meeting and talking with you.
Hope to see you around.
Take care
Richard
Hey Don,
Wish I had some good news for you regarding the band position but unfortunately I don't.
We are still looking for someone that's a perfect fit, may take forever I guess.
I want you to know that we were really hoping that you'd be the one for us.
I guess we're looking for someone who could step in and be quickly up to speed with what we were doing.
The best to you and it was really a pleasure meeting and talking with you.
Hope to see you around.
Take care
Richard
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Julie is a fascinating child
Julie is applying for acceptance to a week-long summer art program in Colorado. Only current high school juniors are eligible, and tuition is free if she gets accepted. She has to submit a portfolio on CD, which will be judged by a panel looking for real artistic ability. Once all the submissions from across the country are paired down based on demonstrated talent, the panel will then start looking at the candidates personal qualities gleaned from Teacher recommendations and the students own background information. Julie had to submit as part of her background info, a brief essay regarding her "most memorable moment in life". This seems like a difficult task for anybody to tackle - determining which most memorable moment to discuss, and deciding how honest and thorough could one afford to be in describing it. Thankfully, she has never had any huge traumatic experiences or earth shaking coming-of-age drama's, but as I said - Julie IS fascinating. With two days to go before the "postmark by" deadline, she discussed her dilemma with us - she couldn't think of a good "moment" that would intrigue and impress a panel of "Art" people. Then it came to her. This is - in her own words - her moment.
===========================================
History was always an interesting subject to me. As it requires a basic knowledge of important dates, I found ways to remember them early on. Events during the Renaissance in the 1500s were easy to remember, because the Renaissance was a vibrant renewal, and "1500s" is a rather intriguing shade of red. It's color stands out from the other centuries; preceded by the blue 1400s and succeeded by the green 1600s. The zeros, of course, just make the colors stand out more because they are white. One of the reasons I always try to get straight A's is because I like it's pale yellow color better than B's purple/blue. Words and dates just naturally have colors- not necessarily on the page, but in the mind. It's difficult to accurately describe, but it is almost as if as soon as I hear or read the word, its color simultaneously appears as well. I never thought much about it, or paid it much attention (unless I was using the colors to help me study) until last year.
One day, my mother asked, what seemed to me, an innocuous question, "What color is 'o'?" White, obviously, was my reply. "What about 's'?" S is green. General terms, of course, because several letters, and words themselves, are green, but different shades. Then mom said that "s" and "o" don't have colors, they're just letters. To which I said, of course they're letters. Letters are colored. I didn't really understand what mom was talking about, or why she had asked such obvious questions (she might well have asked what color the sky is). But she explained to me that in her psychology class, they had just finished discussing synesthesia- a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory leads to automatic and involuntary experiences in a second sensory. I have the most common form, grapheme, where letters and numbers are colored.
This was news to me. I had never heard of synesthesia before; I had just assumed that everyone thought this way, that it was as natural as breathing. It made me try to imagine thinking and reading without color, but honestly to this day I can't fathom it. I did, however, start to notice it more; when a certain word has a particularly interesting color, I realize immediately, not just if I need to notice in order to study. To me, the French verb "mettre" is a really deep purple, and its conjugated forms are slightly different- "mets" is purple/yellowish, "mettons" is more lavender. Synesthesia does help me remember people's name too. I have a really bad memory for names, so when I meet an acquaintance after not seeing them for some time, I find myself thinking, "Oh man, his name was colored like a creamsicle! It must have been Corey." I realize now, as well, that sometimes when I wanted to draw a picture, that I would think of the words that I wanted to describe it as, and use their colors as a basis for the picture's color scheme.
Learning that I have synesthesia was very memorable to me, because it changed the way I think about a variety of things. I never had a reason to think about my thoughts before, but I do a lot more now. I've always loved art, and now I have more ways to approach it, and more ideas and inspirations. At the very least, it's been entertaining to my friends, who want to know what color their names are.
===========================================
History was always an interesting subject to me. As it requires a basic knowledge of important dates, I found ways to remember them early on. Events during the Renaissance in the 1500s were easy to remember, because the Renaissance was a vibrant renewal, and "1500s" is a rather intriguing shade of red. It's color stands out from the other centuries; preceded by the blue 1400s and succeeded by the green 1600s. The zeros, of course, just make the colors stand out more because they are white. One of the reasons I always try to get straight A's is because I like it's pale yellow color better than B's purple/blue. Words and dates just naturally have colors- not necessarily on the page, but in the mind. It's difficult to accurately describe, but it is almost as if as soon as I hear or read the word, its color simultaneously appears as well. I never thought much about it, or paid it much attention (unless I was using the colors to help me study) until last year.
One day, my mother asked, what seemed to me, an innocuous question, "What color is 'o'?" White, obviously, was my reply. "What about 's'?" S is green. General terms, of course, because several letters, and words themselves, are green, but different shades. Then mom said that "s" and "o" don't have colors, they're just letters. To which I said, of course they're letters. Letters are colored. I didn't really understand what mom was talking about, or why she had asked such obvious questions (she might well have asked what color the sky is). But she explained to me that in her psychology class, they had just finished discussing synesthesia- a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory leads to automatic and involuntary experiences in a second sensory. I have the most common form, grapheme, where letters and numbers are colored.
This was news to me. I had never heard of synesthesia before; I had just assumed that everyone thought this way, that it was as natural as breathing. It made me try to imagine thinking and reading without color, but honestly to this day I can't fathom it. I did, however, start to notice it more; when a certain word has a particularly interesting color, I realize immediately, not just if I need to notice in order to study. To me, the French verb "mettre" is a really deep purple, and its conjugated forms are slightly different- "mets" is purple/yellowish, "mettons" is more lavender. Synesthesia does help me remember people's name too. I have a really bad memory for names, so when I meet an acquaintance after not seeing them for some time, I find myself thinking, "Oh man, his name was colored like a creamsicle! It must have been Corey." I realize now, as well, that sometimes when I wanted to draw a picture, that I would think of the words that I wanted to describe it as, and use their colors as a basis for the picture's color scheme.
Learning that I have synesthesia was very memorable to me, because it changed the way I think about a variety of things. I never had a reason to think about my thoughts before, but I do a lot more now. I've always loved art, and now I have more ways to approach it, and more ideas and inspirations. At the very least, it's been entertaining to my friends, who want to know what color their names are.
RE: Youch
"Youch"
(That's the sound of 53 yr old me biting my tongue - hard!)
(ya - you know who I'm talking to!)
(damned New Years resolution!)
(That's the sound of 53 yr old me biting my tongue - hard!)
(ya - you know who I'm talking to!)
(damned New Years resolution!)
Monday, April 07, 2008
It's somebodies birthday tomorrow!!!
HAPPY BIRTHSEASON DARLING!!!!!
(sorry, I don't have Sox opening day tickets)
(nor a puppy, sheep, goat, or "adoptable infant child with no living relatives")
LOVE, ME!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sacrifice and Reward
One week to go, and then we can all get back to whatever it was we gave up (if we haven't already!). In our house, the kids who did really good with their Lenten Promise (sacrifice or added task) get a prize on Easter. I have not had a single pastry since Ash Wednesday, but I have not been very good about doing my situps - apparently I am OK with going without, but not good about adding to my list. Julie's history teacher noted at teacher conferences that her attitude seems to have changed and maybe she has adjusted to his teaching style - clueless that she gave up harrassing him for lent, and is apparently doing well with that sacrifice. Joe and Jamie probably don't even remember what their sacrifices were to be (grooming "Champ" daily, and reading the Bible daily - respectively) as they have not performed these added tasks since Ash "Thursday".
So, how have you done with your's? Do you get to reward yourself on Easter morning? I expect that on Easter morning I will have eclairs and a smaller (by 5lbs) but still out-of-shape stomach as the rewards for my efforts (although as Julie so eloquently proclaims "but ROUND is a shape!")
Happy almost Easter! Hang in there!
So, how have you done with your's? Do you get to reward yourself on Easter morning? I expect that on Easter morning I will have eclairs and a smaller (by 5lbs) but still out-of-shape stomach as the rewards for my efforts (although as Julie so eloquently proclaims "but ROUND is a shape!")
Happy almost Easter! Hang in there!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Hello, Muscatine Iowa!
Now if I only knew who frequently visits from the Mississippi Bend Area Education Agency. The person always starts on Margo's blog, links onto Sue's, and then onto mine - in order.
Assuming it is probably somebody that Margo met through her Youth Ministry travels I asked, but she doesn't know off hand who it might be. Going to the MBAEA website, I find a very long list of employees - which means looking for a familiar name is probably not a wise use of time.
We are honored at having a faithful follower, and it is intriguing to think that somebody who probably doesn't particularly know us somehow found us and keeps coming back to read our stuff. I can only hope that this mystery reader one day posts a comment and leaves a hint as to his/her identity that my site meter is unable to do.
It's fun to wonder - who, where, and why?
Assuming it is probably somebody that Margo met through her Youth Ministry travels I asked, but she doesn't know off hand who it might be. Going to the MBAEA website, I find a very long list of employees - which means looking for a familiar name is probably not a wise use of time.
We are honored at having a faithful follower, and it is intriguing to think that somebody who probably doesn't particularly know us somehow found us and keeps coming back to read our stuff. I can only hope that this mystery reader one day posts a comment and leaves a hint as to his/her identity that my site meter is unable to do.
It's fun to wonder - who, where, and why?
HEY! IT WORKED!
within days after theorizing that if I actually offered my own interpretation of the meaning of the song "Helplessly Hoping" then these random viewers who land on my blog while looking for some insight to it might actually READ my blog, two people actually DID!
Talk about the power of suggestion! Strangely, I feel as if I accomplished something.
(Thankfully, nobody left comments about my interpretaion being stupid or anything)
Talk about the power of suggestion! Strangely, I feel as if I accomplished something.
(Thankfully, nobody left comments about my interpretaion being stupid or anything)
Friday, March 07, 2008
Little Joe’s Big Bad Bruins Adventure
Corey is now 18, living on campus in Boston, and feeling a bit grown up and independent. Well, maybe not completely independent. He did buy me a birthday present (maybe the first time ever in his life without his mother putting money in his hand and driving him to a store) – two tickets for a Bruins hockey game, but of course he assumed that with the second ticket I would invite him, drive, pay for parking, and food. Over the past several years he has developed a love of the sport and was eager to see a game live. The Thursday March 6th 7:00pm game versus Toronto was during his spring break week and wouldn’t interfere with any school priorities. Then he found out that as part of the NEU pep band, he got to go to Virginia to cheer on the NEU basketball team – and he had to back at campus to board the bus by 4:30pm (Thursday March 6th). Oops – so much for Corey’s Big Bad Bruins Adventure. 
Thinking quickly, he decided that having already spent the money for the second ticket he could claim it as an early birthday present to Joe (therefore not having to spend future money on him while still claiming to have been generous to him).
So Friday through Wednesday Corey filled Joe with stories of Zdano Chara et al – watched games on TV and viewed YouTube clippings of various hockey fights. Joe was ready!
Tim and Corey got Joe out of school early and drove to meet me at work. Corey, Joe and I continued on to the city, dropped off Corey on campus, and met up with Mary in Copley Square. She usually takes the subway to North Station and the train to Billerica, but she joined us for the ride and we killed a little time exploring around Causeway St. Then Joe wanted to look in the Pro Shop – he has his mind set a getting a “Chara” jersey. For $180 he could have gotten one that would have been big on ME, but none were to be found in anything even close to his small size. Bergeron, Kessel, Thomas, Savard – none of them interested him because he didn’t know who they were (apparently Corey didn’t do a very thorough job teaching Joe all about the B’s). Jackets – no. Sweatshirts – no. Hats, foam fingers, B’s pajama’s – no, no, and no. Mary offered to chip in for anything up to $60 – no. Chara or nothing was pretty much Joe’s mood. We did find a Chara poster for $6 that I said I would get for him after the game, which cheered him up slightly. After a McDonalds meal and seeing Mary off onto her train, we headed up into the stadium – Joe’s first ever major sporting event. I explained to Joe that the seats would be up in the “nose-bleed” section, the balcony. He was concerned that people really got nose-bleeds there. Being amongst the first fans to enter, we walked the whole upper concourse and then went to find our seat. Balcony, section 306, row 15 is as high up as you can get – top row, back against the stadium wall, very steep steps to get there and poor Joe worried that if his shoelace became undone and he tripped it was going to be a long and painful fall. Still over half an hour until game time, we acclimated to the view and then went back to the concourse – me for popcorn and Joe still hoping to find his prized Chara shirt. Thankfully, even at the !! 50% OFF ALL BRUINS MERCHANDISE !! kiosk there were none to be found. They did have a cute little yellow huggy monkee with the Velcro hands and a Bruins “B” on it for $6.50, which Joe attached around his neck for the entire game.
The game started well with the B’s scoring first, but people standing up blocked Joes. He also noted how lots of people use bad words, two big smelly guys kept going past us with beer, Toronto scored eight unanswered goals, the concession stands didn’t have Root Beer and Chara didn’t fight anybody. Joe commented how “it apparently isn’t the Bruins night tonight”. We called Corey half way through the second period (he was on the bus headed to Virginia) so Joe could let him know how it was going. Joe told him to “next time get us tickets to a better game”. Into the 3rd period as the score was getting more lopsided I told Joe that if he was tired or bored we could leave early and beat the rush, but he insisted that he was having fun and wanted to stay to the end. That meant he got to see a fight (not Chara) and the B’s final goal with 34 second left. As we were leaving he headed straight for the pro shop and grabbed his promised poster and started wondering where to hang it in his room. At 10:20pm (hours past his normal bedtime) Joe called Mom (who would be in the van on her way TO work) to tell her all about it.
“Ya, it was fun. Ya, I’m tired. No I didn’t get a shirt or a coat. Goodnight Mom.”
Two tickets to professional hockey game = free
Parking at North Station = $30
McDonalds for two at North Station = $11
Poster, monkee, popcorn, twizzlers and a coke = $25
Bringing a son to his first professional sporting event = priceless
Thinking quickly, he decided that having already spent the money for the second ticket he could claim it as an early birthday present to Joe (therefore not having to spend future money on him while still claiming to have been generous to him).
So Friday through Wednesday Corey filled Joe with stories of Zdano Chara et al – watched games on TV and viewed YouTube clippings of various hockey fights. Joe was ready!
Tim and Corey got Joe out of school early and drove to meet me at work. Corey, Joe and I continued on to the city, dropped off Corey on campus, and met up with Mary in Copley Square. She usually takes the subway to North Station and the train to Billerica, but she joined us for the ride and we killed a little time exploring around Causeway St. Then Joe wanted to look in the Pro Shop – he has his mind set a getting a “Chara” jersey. For $180 he could have gotten one that would have been big on ME, but none were to be found in anything even close to his small size. Bergeron, Kessel, Thomas, Savard – none of them interested him because he didn’t know who they were (apparently Corey didn’t do a very thorough job teaching Joe all about the B’s). Jackets – no. Sweatshirts – no. Hats, foam fingers, B’s pajama’s – no, no, and no. Mary offered to chip in for anything up to $60 – no. Chara or nothing was pretty much Joe’s mood. We did find a Chara poster for $6 that I said I would get for him after the game, which cheered him up slightly. After a McDonalds meal and seeing Mary off onto her train, we headed up into the stadium – Joe’s first ever major sporting event. I explained to Joe that the seats would be up in the “nose-bleed” section, the balcony. He was concerned that people really got nose-bleeds there. Being amongst the first fans to enter, we walked the whole upper concourse and then went to find our seat. Balcony, section 306, row 15 is as high up as you can get – top row, back against the stadium wall, very steep steps to get there and poor Joe worried that if his shoelace became undone and he tripped it was going to be a long and painful fall. Still over half an hour until game time, we acclimated to the view and then went back to the concourse – me for popcorn and Joe still hoping to find his prized Chara shirt. Thankfully, even at the !! 50% OFF ALL BRUINS MERCHANDISE !! kiosk there were none to be found. They did have a cute little yellow huggy monkee with the Velcro hands and a Bruins “B” on it for $6.50, which Joe attached around his neck for the entire game.
The game started well with the B’s scoring first, but people standing up blocked Joes. He also noted how lots of people use bad words, two big smelly guys kept going past us with beer, Toronto scored eight unanswered goals, the concession stands didn’t have Root Beer and Chara didn’t fight anybody. Joe commented how “it apparently isn’t the Bruins night tonight”. We called Corey half way through the second period (he was on the bus headed to Virginia) so Joe could let him know how it was going. Joe told him to “next time get us tickets to a better game”. Into the 3rd period as the score was getting more lopsided I told Joe that if he was tired or bored we could leave early and beat the rush, but he insisted that he was having fun and wanted to stay to the end. That meant he got to see a fight (not Chara) and the B’s final goal with 34 second left. As we were leaving he headed straight for the pro shop and grabbed his promised poster and started wondering where to hang it in his room. At 10:20pm (hours past his normal bedtime) Joe called Mom (who would be in the van on her way TO work) to tell her all about it.
“Ya, it was fun. Ya, I’m tired. No I didn’t get a shirt or a coat. Goodnight Mom.”
Two tickets to professional hockey game = free
Parking at North Station = $30
McDonalds for two at North Station = $11
Poster, monkee, popcorn, twizzlers and a coke = $25
Bringing a son to his first professional sporting event = priceless
Thursday, March 06, 2008
More Site Meter fun - or - Helplessly Hoping song meaning
Besides the "Dark Town" searches that direct 100's of people from around the world to my other blog, this blog receives many hits from people looking for song lyrics and meanings (I use lots of lyrics to supplement or set the mood for my thoughts.
Apparently many folks want to understand the meaning of the Stephan Stills / CSN song "Helplessly Hoping". So, along with finding the http://www.songmeanings.net/ site, they also find my blog near the top of the search results. Sadly, they only are "on" my blog for zero seconds and then leave. Maybe if I actually offer my theory regarding the meaning of these lyrics, they will stay and be impressed.
= = = = = = =
Helplessly hoping her harlequin (the guy) hovers nearby
Awaiting a word (some indication from her about their prospects together)
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit (with wonder, he see’s her appealing qualities)
he runs, Wishing he could fly (spirit being typically viewed as an air-borne quality, maybe he could catch her if he could fly)
Only to trip at the sound of goodbye (which certainly takes the wind out of his sails)
Wordlessly watching he waits by the window (he can see her, is separated from her, and knows not how to express himself)
and wonders At the empty place inside (loneliness and yearning inside himself)
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams (maybe if he could take her troubles away things would be different)
he worries Did he hear a good-bye? Or even hello? (now he doesn’t know if he missed a cue from her or not)
They are one person (they have the same dreams and fears – they are one & the same)
They are two alone (they are both separated from each other)
They are three together (if they were 2 people together in love, then God becomes present and therefore = 3)
They are for each other (at least in his mind - and a neat poetic way to complete the literary cycle)
Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you Confusion has its cost
Love isn't lying it's loose in a lady who lingers (he feels it, he can see it in her, and she hasn’t actually turned him away yet)
Saying she is lost (she is stalling, offering excuses)
And choking on hello (and can’t bring herself to risk it and say yes to him)
= = = = = =
Now I'm not saying that I actually know what was in Mr. Stills head as he wrote this song. Maybe he simply stumbled across a phrase that he liked, and proceeded to assemble as many alliterations as possible into a story - never giving any thought to it all having "a meaning". This is simply my own version of what the song says to me. In many ways, I AM "her harlequin". I have lived this song. I'm sure it speaks differently to other people. Maybe instead of people searching for the meaning, they should simply create their own.
Apparently many folks want to understand the meaning of the Stephan Stills / CSN song "Helplessly Hoping". So, along with finding the http://www.songmeanings.net/ site, they also find my blog near the top of the search results. Sadly, they only are "on" my blog for zero seconds and then leave. Maybe if I actually offer my theory regarding the meaning of these lyrics, they will stay and be impressed.
= = = = = = =
Helplessly hoping her harlequin (the guy) hovers nearby
Awaiting a word (some indication from her about their prospects together)
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit (with wonder, he see’s her appealing qualities)
he runs, Wishing he could fly (spirit being typically viewed as an air-borne quality, maybe he could catch her if he could fly)
Only to trip at the sound of goodbye (which certainly takes the wind out of his sails)
Wordlessly watching he waits by the window (he can see her, is separated from her, and knows not how to express himself)
and wonders At the empty place inside (loneliness and yearning inside himself)
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams (maybe if he could take her troubles away things would be different)
he worries Did he hear a good-bye? Or even hello? (now he doesn’t know if he missed a cue from her or not)
They are one person (they have the same dreams and fears – they are one & the same)
They are two alone (they are both separated from each other)
They are three together (if they were 2 people together in love, then God becomes present and therefore = 3)
They are for each other (at least in his mind - and a neat poetic way to complete the literary cycle)
Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you Confusion has its cost
Love isn't lying it's loose in a lady who lingers (he feels it, he can see it in her, and she hasn’t actually turned him away yet)
Saying she is lost (she is stalling, offering excuses)
And choking on hello (and can’t bring herself to risk it and say yes to him)
= = = = = =
Now I'm not saying that I actually know what was in Mr. Stills head as he wrote this song. Maybe he simply stumbled across a phrase that he liked, and proceeded to assemble as many alliterations as possible into a story - never giving any thought to it all having "a meaning". This is simply my own version of what the song says to me. In many ways, I AM "her harlequin". I have lived this song. I'm sure it speaks differently to other people. Maybe instead of people searching for the meaning, they should simply create their own.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Happy Birthday to me, I'm now 53
(sorry - this is the youngest baby picture I have of me)How Much things cost in 1955
- Average Cost of new house ==== $10.950.00
- Average Monthly Rent ==== $87.00
- Average Yearly Wages ==== $4.130.00
- Minumum Hourly Rate ==== $1.00
- Average Cost of a new car ==== $1,900.00
- Cost of a gallon of Gas ==== 23 cents
- Black and White TV ==== $99.95
Popular Culture 1955
- Ray Kroc starts the McDonald's fast food restaurant chain.
- First riot at an Elvis Presley concert takes place in Jacksonville, FL
- James Dean’s stars in the movie East of Eden
- James Dean killed in car accident near Cholame, California
Popular Films
- Oklahoma
- The Quatermass Xperiment
- Rebel without a Cause
- To Catch A Thief
- The seven year itch
Popular Singers
- Elvis Presley
- Bill Haley and the Comets
- Chuck Berry
- Fats Domino.
- The Platters
What Events Happened in 1955
· US military intervention in Iran
· Hurricane Diane hits the northeast United States, killing 200 and causing over $1 billion in damage
· Disneyland opens in California
· 52 Die in a disaster at 24hr Le Mans Race
· African American Rosa Parks is arrested after refusing to give up her bus seat to a white person in Montgomery Alabama
Technology 1955
· First pocket transistor radios available
· Fish Fingers are marketed by Bird's Eye
· The first Atomically generated power is used in the US
I share my birthday today with my brother David, Step-father Henry, and the guy who is the voice of the AFLAC duck.
- Average Cost of new house ==== $10.950.00
- Average Monthly Rent ==== $87.00
- Average Yearly Wages ==== $4.130.00
- Minumum Hourly Rate ==== $1.00
- Average Cost of a new car ==== $1,900.00
- Cost of a gallon of Gas ==== 23 cents
- Black and White TV ==== $99.95
Popular Culture 1955
- Ray Kroc starts the McDonald's fast food restaurant chain.
- First riot at an Elvis Presley concert takes place in Jacksonville, FL
- James Dean’s stars in the movie East of Eden
- James Dean killed in car accident near Cholame, California
Popular Films
- Oklahoma
- The Quatermass Xperiment
- Rebel without a Cause
- To Catch A Thief
- The seven year itch
Popular Singers
- Elvis Presley
- Bill Haley and the Comets
- Chuck Berry
- Fats Domino.
- The Platters
What Events Happened in 1955
· US military intervention in Iran
· Hurricane Diane hits the northeast United States, killing 200 and causing over $1 billion in damage
· Disneyland opens in California
· 52 Die in a disaster at 24hr Le Mans Race
· African American Rosa Parks is arrested after refusing to give up her bus seat to a white person in Montgomery Alabama
Technology 1955
· First pocket transistor radios available
· Fish Fingers are marketed by Bird's Eye
· The first Atomically generated power is used in the US
I share my birthday today with my brother David, Step-father Henry, and the guy who is the voice of the AFLAC duck.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Exercising my patience - OR - stupid department stores
Happy Birthday me!
Sue and I were wishing we could afford to rejoin the Y, but alas it is beyond our current reach. Sue thought that getting a home gym machine would be a great birthday present. We had seen a neat one at Walmart a while ago but it had no price on it. When we EVENTUALLY found a clerk willing to speak to us, he too couldn’t find the pricing and said we needed to come back during the day when a department manager could help us. Well yesterday, Sue was there – and a price was listed on it ($189.99) and it seemed like a good deal. After I got home from work, we all went back to WalMart to purchase it. Again, we have to seek out someone to help us. The first clerk we found couldn’t but went to find somebody who could. Three times he returned to apologize and say it should just be a few more minutes. A lady came, scanned the price tag/bar code, and told us that two were on order and should be in within 14 days or less. No, they were not ordered for somebody else – no, we could not reserve one – we could check in later. After pushing lots of buttons on her scanner, she informed us that Braintree and Weymouth had them in stock. Because Julie and friend had to be picked up in an hour, we had to pass. After returning home, we search for the specific machine online to see who else might carry it (and compare pricing). Apparently, that particular unit is proprietary to Walmart as nobody else in the free world carries it. BUT – Kmart has a similar but clearly superior unit by a different manufacturer at 30% off ($195.00) and Brockton has them in stock. Because they close at 10 and it was already after 9, I decided to wait until today – I could zip over there on my lunch break.
And I did - $200 cash in hand – walked in, found the machine, didn’t find a clerk (way too heavy for a carriage and one person to lift), found the service desk, asked for help, waited for help, waited as she paged again, waited some more, met the clerk who said he’d meet me back in sporting goods as soon as he finished helping the other two customers ahead of me, waited, waited, waited until I was 45 minutes into my ½ hour lunch break. (starting to sound a bit like the “Alice’s Restaurant” song) And I left – without the machine. But we want it. Sue and I will certainly get good use out of it, the little kids will initially be intrigued enough to use it at first, Julie can work out prior to Discus competition season. The 30% off sale ends March 1st so I guess I’ll try one more time. Why doesn’t anybody want my $200 dollars? If I could I would get it and move it myself, except – if I could, I wouldn’t need the machine in the first place!
Sue and I were wishing we could afford to rejoin the Y, but alas it is beyond our current reach. Sue thought that getting a home gym machine would be a great birthday present. We had seen a neat one at Walmart a while ago but it had no price on it. When we EVENTUALLY found a clerk willing to speak to us, he too couldn’t find the pricing and said we needed to come back during the day when a department manager could help us. Well yesterday, Sue was there – and a price was listed on it ($189.99) and it seemed like a good deal. After I got home from work, we all went back to WalMart to purchase it. Again, we have to seek out someone to help us. The first clerk we found couldn’t but went to find somebody who could. Three times he returned to apologize and say it should just be a few more minutes. A lady came, scanned the price tag/bar code, and told us that two were on order and should be in within 14 days or less. No, they were not ordered for somebody else – no, we could not reserve one – we could check in later. After pushing lots of buttons on her scanner, she informed us that Braintree and Weymouth had them in stock. Because Julie and friend had to be picked up in an hour, we had to pass. After returning home, we search for the specific machine online to see who else might carry it (and compare pricing). Apparently, that particular unit is proprietary to Walmart as nobody else in the free world carries it. BUT – Kmart has a similar but clearly superior unit by a different manufacturer at 30% off ($195.00) and Brockton has them in stock. Because they close at 10 and it was already after 9, I decided to wait until today – I could zip over there on my lunch break.
And I did - $200 cash in hand – walked in, found the machine, didn’t find a clerk (way too heavy for a carriage and one person to lift), found the service desk, asked for help, waited for help, waited as she paged again, waited some more, met the clerk who said he’d meet me back in sporting goods as soon as he finished helping the other two customers ahead of me, waited, waited, waited until I was 45 minutes into my ½ hour lunch break. (starting to sound a bit like the “Alice’s Restaurant” song) And I left – without the machine. But we want it. Sue and I will certainly get good use out of it, the little kids will initially be intrigued enough to use it at first, Julie can work out prior to Discus competition season. The 30% off sale ends March 1st so I guess I’ll try one more time. Why doesn’t anybody want my $200 dollars? If I could I would get it and move it myself, except – if I could, I wouldn’t need the machine in the first place!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Ruth McDonnell
Ruthie McDonnell - upper left in photo
In 1979 the Hanson Girls Softball 13-17 yr old team had a 6-8 record playing in the North River Girls Fastpitch Softball League. I was the head coach of this wild and crazy and diverse collection of teenage softball players. Many of the girls had unmistakable and strong personalities of various types. Some were shy or quiet and just sort of blended in without being particularly noteworthy, which is how I had tended to be as a teenager and young adult. But after getting talked into helping coach this team, and then becoming the head coach – I was forced to learn to interact in a more vocal and demonstrative way. These girls were the best thing to happen to me at that point in my life.
One of the best players and strongest personalities on any of the teams I coached over eight years was “Ruthie”. She was a big strong girl who could hit for power, had a cannon of an arm, and would gladly run over the opposing catcher if she tried to block home plate. AND, she would laugh about it the whole way – as if to say “I can’t believe you thought you were going to stop me”. In any moment of competition, Ruthie had a determined scowl which instantly gave way to a proud and beaming smile. She LOVED doing her job well. As a shortstop, she would throw so hard to first base that Nancy (our 1st baseman) would complain that she was throwing too hard. Ruthie hated pitching because she couldn’t throw as hard underhand as she could overhand. What she excelled at was being the catcher.
Stereotypically big and slow moving, and happily bossy, Ruthie at 16 and 17 years old was the field general. She would pump up the pitcher, wake up the infielders, joke with the umpire and batter, and let me know that I wasn’t really needed here – she had it all under control. Our pitchers quickly learned that their own head was directly in the line of fire when Ruthie tried to throw a runner out stealing second base. She would sternly remind them of that fact and warn them to be ready to duck – not to save their own lives, but so their head wouldn’t interfere with her throw. This public and confident announcement was sometimes enough to convince a baserunner NOT to try stealing second. On plays at home plate, she KNEW she had a size advantage over most girls and would practically DARE anyone to try to run through her to score. She knew she was big and strong and relished in being able to take advantage of her “physical talent”.
At bat she was fearless and always grinned at the opposing pitcher – her way of trying to psych out the opponent, no matter how fast the girl could pitch. In batting practice, she was murder. When Ruthie stepped into the batters box, most of our own pitchers were too scared (or too smart) to pitch to her, and because we didn’t have many girls who threw real fastballs (but many of the opponents did) I would throw a lot of batting practice so our own batters could practice hitting against speed. Ruthie had an uncanny knack of hitting line drives back through the pitchers circle – anywhere from head high to “just-below-belt-high”. She would have me ducking and leaping throughout her whole BP session, with the rest of the team laughing at my predicament and rooting her on. Every body loved Ruthie – you couldn’t help it, unless you were on the other team. She learned that her power zone was hitting towards right-center field, and that most teams weakest players were in right field. She needed to hit the ball into that gap, because Ruthie didn’t particularly run around the bases – she thundered around them. Team-mates good naturedly complained about earthquakes and thunder, and joked about the 3rd baseman running for cover as she huffed and puffed into 3rd base. She just smiled and laughed with them. Playing down in Plympton, the opposing star player was also their catcher. Ruthie was on 2nd base and a ball was hit to the outfield. She rounded 3rd and headed for home –ready for a close play. The throw was high causing the catcher to leap. Ruthie – not one to be polite or to avoid a collision - went low and took the girls legs out from under her, and they landed in a heap. The umpire called “Safe”, the catcher got up looking for a fight, but Ruthie just casually got up and triumphantly walked away – beaming as always, and to a chorus of cheering from her impressed team-mates.
That was Ruthie in all of her glory. Never to be a prom queen, she held court on 95 degree hot July afternoons, full catchers gear on, dirty, sweaty, and personally victorious no matter what the final score was. She was the hero of all the pretty girls who wished they were “ballplayers”, the shy girls who wished they were outgoing, and any other girl who simply marveled at the person who was “Ruthie”. She was a joy to coach.
The reason this story is on my “current events” blog instead of my “growing up a long time ago” blog?
Ruthie McDonnell – now 45 years old - passed away this weekend after succumbing to cancer. Apparently, her adult life was not easy and she did not fare as well against real life’s opponents off the playing field.
Although I have not seen her since the early 1980’s, I feel somewhat like a father who has lost a child. In my minds eye, she will always be 17, laughing, wearing her Hanson Girls Softball shirt, ready to drill a line drive at my head, and telling Sue that she has that one more strike in her that she needs to get this batter out.
In 1979 the Hanson Girls Softball 13-17 yr old team had a 6-8 record playing in the North River Girls Fastpitch Softball League. I was the head coach of this wild and crazy and diverse collection of teenage softball players. Many of the girls had unmistakable and strong personalities of various types. Some were shy or quiet and just sort of blended in without being particularly noteworthy, which is how I had tended to be as a teenager and young adult. But after getting talked into helping coach this team, and then becoming the head coach – I was forced to learn to interact in a more vocal and demonstrative way. These girls were the best thing to happen to me at that point in my life.
One of the best players and strongest personalities on any of the teams I coached over eight years was “Ruthie”. She was a big strong girl who could hit for power, had a cannon of an arm, and would gladly run over the opposing catcher if she tried to block home plate. AND, she would laugh about it the whole way – as if to say “I can’t believe you thought you were going to stop me”. In any moment of competition, Ruthie had a determined scowl which instantly gave way to a proud and beaming smile. She LOVED doing her job well. As a shortstop, she would throw so hard to first base that Nancy (our 1st baseman) would complain that she was throwing too hard. Ruthie hated pitching because she couldn’t throw as hard underhand as she could overhand. What she excelled at was being the catcher.
Stereotypically big and slow moving, and happily bossy, Ruthie at 16 and 17 years old was the field general. She would pump up the pitcher, wake up the infielders, joke with the umpire and batter, and let me know that I wasn’t really needed here – she had it all under control. Our pitchers quickly learned that their own head was directly in the line of fire when Ruthie tried to throw a runner out stealing second base. She would sternly remind them of that fact and warn them to be ready to duck – not to save their own lives, but so their head wouldn’t interfere with her throw. This public and confident announcement was sometimes enough to convince a baserunner NOT to try stealing second. On plays at home plate, she KNEW she had a size advantage over most girls and would practically DARE anyone to try to run through her to score. She knew she was big and strong and relished in being able to take advantage of her “physical talent”.
At bat she was fearless and always grinned at the opposing pitcher – her way of trying to psych out the opponent, no matter how fast the girl could pitch. In batting practice, she was murder. When Ruthie stepped into the batters box, most of our own pitchers were too scared (or too smart) to pitch to her, and because we didn’t have many girls who threw real fastballs (but many of the opponents did) I would throw a lot of batting practice so our own batters could practice hitting against speed. Ruthie had an uncanny knack of hitting line drives back through the pitchers circle – anywhere from head high to “just-below-belt-high”. She would have me ducking and leaping throughout her whole BP session, with the rest of the team laughing at my predicament and rooting her on. Every body loved Ruthie – you couldn’t help it, unless you were on the other team. She learned that her power zone was hitting towards right-center field, and that most teams weakest players were in right field. She needed to hit the ball into that gap, because Ruthie didn’t particularly run around the bases – she thundered around them. Team-mates good naturedly complained about earthquakes and thunder, and joked about the 3rd baseman running for cover as she huffed and puffed into 3rd base. She just smiled and laughed with them. Playing down in Plympton, the opposing star player was also their catcher. Ruthie was on 2nd base and a ball was hit to the outfield. She rounded 3rd and headed for home –ready for a close play. The throw was high causing the catcher to leap. Ruthie – not one to be polite or to avoid a collision - went low and took the girls legs out from under her, and they landed in a heap. The umpire called “Safe”, the catcher got up looking for a fight, but Ruthie just casually got up and triumphantly walked away – beaming as always, and to a chorus of cheering from her impressed team-mates.
That was Ruthie in all of her glory. Never to be a prom queen, she held court on 95 degree hot July afternoons, full catchers gear on, dirty, sweaty, and personally victorious no matter what the final score was. She was the hero of all the pretty girls who wished they were “ballplayers”, the shy girls who wished they were outgoing, and any other girl who simply marveled at the person who was “Ruthie”. She was a joy to coach.
The reason this story is on my “current events” blog instead of my “growing up a long time ago” blog?
Ruthie McDonnell – now 45 years old - passed away this weekend after succumbing to cancer. Apparently, her adult life was not easy and she did not fare as well against real life’s opponents off the playing field.
Although I have not seen her since the early 1980’s, I feel somewhat like a father who has lost a child. In my minds eye, she will always be 17, laughing, wearing her Hanson Girls Softball shirt, ready to drill a line drive at my head, and telling Sue that she has that one more strike in her that she needs to get this batter out.
I think I will make a recommendation to the Hanson Recreation Committee to rename the LZ Thomas School softball field to the Ruth McDonnell Memorial Field. It would be a fitting honor.
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