Friday, November 03, 2023

Remembering Bob Feller

I met Bob Feller when I was a boy (possibly in 1956 when I was seven) in Baltimore at Luskin's appliance store on Park Heights Ave. It was a Saturday morning appearance-- Bob was doing promotional work for Motorola-- and there was a mob of kids (and some parents) waiting for the store's doors to open at 9AM. My dad, who was not a baseball fan, drove me down to the store. When he saw the mob of people waiting for the doors to open, he took me by the hand and led me around to the back of the store. The sign on the back door entrance said "No admittance", or some such thing. I said: "Dad! The sign says we can't go in!". "Just come with me.", was his reply. We went in and walked up to the checkout counter where "Bullet Bob" was opening boxes of baseballs. We were his very first customers of the day. And Bob Feller signed his first baseball of the morning and gave it to me. (I eventually played ball with it, and eventually lost it.) I remember him having a distinct brightness about him. I remember seeing that dimple in his chin, and I remember him being kind to me. I was thrilled, as you can imagine.
Fast forward 40 years: Avon Lake, Ohio. I read in the newspapers that Bob Feller will be signing autographs at a drugstore just a few blocks from where I was then living. When I arrive at the store there is a huge line waiting to meet Bob. No, I didn't sneak in the back door (I didn't inherit my dad's chutzpah), but I did avoid the line and walked to the back of the store where Bob sat at a table signing autographs and chatting with the fans. I stood off to the side and simply observed the man. He was so kind to those kids. I remember him explaining, in very simple terms to some youngster, about his role in fighting for his country in WWII. The glow I witnessed as a kid how now matured into something even more, much more, impressive, something golden. "This is one of the great Americans.", was the thought that ran through my mind. "This is a true living legend, and you would recognize that even if you didn't know anything about his stellar baseball career."

Wednesday, September 28, 2022

Using Transcendental Meditation® in business

(click this gray line) Using Transcendental Meditation® in business: A Yonkers Roosevelt High School graduate who was chairman of the Southern Westchester Branch of the International Meditation Society, former international director of the Maharishi Corporate Development Program and built a career in researching and teaching Transcendental Meditation® believes businesses can benefit from its application. Craig Berg has taught the technique at companies large and small and …

Thursday, September 09, 2021

Monday, September 06, 2021

Sunday, September 05, 2021

Friday, September 03, 2021

More stories (Vol. 8) My Father's Compassion

click:  My Father's Compassion

Secret of the Taj Mahal  (Click to listen). The Taj Mahal under full moon light. Does its fabled reputation hold up?

Thursday, September 02, 2021

Wednesday, September 01, 2021

Saturday, November 16, 2019

"O, the Friend has done me a great favor and so thoroughly ruined my life; what else would you expect seeing God would do!" - Hafiz

Saturday, July 14, 2018

My Favorite Baseball Card

 Major League Baseball (MLB) asked for submissions describing fans' favorite baseball card.

I submitted this memory to MLB.com:

I grew up in Baltimore in the 1950s; when I was nine, the baseball card I most coveted was the 1958 team card of the New York Yankees. Except for one extraordinarily lucky duck kid, I knew no one in my neighborhood who had it. I had hundreds of cards, and so did my friends, but it seemed Baltimore was pretty much a barren desert regarding that one card. But I had a plan. My parents were taking me to visit our relatives in New York City. Maybe the Yankee card was more readily available up there? I had hope; on my trip up north I took along a few dozen baseball cards, chosen from my collection. They would be my trade bait in case I got lucky and found someone who might trade me the object of my desire. And I brought duplicates of cards I had, or that I could easily acquire in trade from my Baltimore buddies.

Eureka! My NYC cousin Steven had doubles of the team card and was willing to trade it! But he sensed my intense covetousness and bargained to get three of my cards for the one Yankees team card. No problem. I got it! Bliss!

Dad drove us back to Baltimore via the New Jersey Turnpike. You know how much fun it was as a kid to stick your hands out of the car window and play with the wind as the car sped along its way? I'm pretty sure you do. That's what I was doing with my pack of maybe thirty baseball cards, including my recently acquired gem, all securely held between my hands, as Dad sped along the turnpike. My Mom said: "You're going to lose your cards doing that." "No I'm not; I've got 'em.", I replied, and held the pack more firmly as my hands dipped and swayed against the rushing wind. So much fun. I continued to play with the wind. Then, all of a sudden, Zip! Oh, my God. A card had zipped out of my pack and flown away! "Oh, dear God, please, please, please don't let it be that one!", was my thought as I frantically thumbed through my pack - chances were very slim that it was that one; after all, there were some thirty cards in the pack. No! I must have missed it in my frenzied search! Let me check again! No!! Oh No!!

Since that fateful day, on the infrequent occasions of my traveling along the New Jersey Turnpike, I can never help but rue not listening to my dear mother, and realize that somewhere in one of the countless stretches of fields along the road, once lay my prized 1958 Yankees team picture, now long turned to dust.