Baseball Ray.....

 At the Maternity Ward, you sneak out... Exclaim "Put me in Coach... I'm ready to play, today.. Put me in Coach.. I'm ready to play.. Look at me, I can be centerfield"..... 

But of course you're in Centerfield.. you're a basket catch, the original Bonus Baby!  An age where one is frequently caught napping.. mom or dad detects a whiff.. uh oh, gas..  time to be lifted out of the bandbox they've cooped you up in to change your uniform..

Ya gotta walk before you run and put those wheels in motion. WHAT?  Mom's got one on deck?  A few years later, anudder batting third?  You're stuck in the Minors for awhile..  Ya move from Velcro to the next step, being able to make shoestring catches... you become Mom's utility player.. the table setter.. also assuring the younger ones don't walk-off.. or, that neither of  'em tries a twin killing.. 

You gradjugate to REAL food.. Yum.. meatballs.. high cheese from the highchair.. nibbles.. Jam... .. stokes one's appreciation for all the dish has to offer, ah, the sweet spot.

Sometimes baby brother, affectionately known as the cutoff man, tries to steal one too many cookies..  mom gets him in a rundown... nice catch, she's got him by the collar... to the dugout he is destined..  it is hoped, mom doesn't tell dad (the designated hitter) of this bush league attempt and he's hopefully not plunked.

The growing up season finally begins.. Spring is here, Spring training.. oodles and oodles of games, practice, hot box, pepper in the backyard. Once, middle brother hit a moon shot over the fence into the opposite field (cranky lady's backyard that lives next door)...you'll never get it back.. a "no no" she said... so, kinda like a rain out, off day.. the game is delayed until you get enough pop bottles gathered, sold, to buy a brand new ball.

Uncle Charlie's come to visit, mom's given the ok and the starting lineup to take the field.. Uncle arrives, sits on the back porch GA, discovers ducks on the pond.

Mom's cooking, but has one eye, one ear on the ruckus out back..."OUT!".. "NOPE,. I WAS SAFE!".. "WAS NOT".. "WERE TOO!".. hearing the beginning of this rhubarb, she opens the bullpen gate, shouts "Dinner is ready from the hot stove!"..  sometimes ya gotta sacrifice... and the kids (and Unc) comea running..  "Hey, let's play two after dinner." Agreed.  Life is good.

Year after year, first day of the minor league season (School), mom snaps our picture on the front porch... when the day comes we will finally make it to The Show.. The Senior Circuit.. she will embarrassingly, but lovingly, publish all twelve  years of 'baseball cards' on Facebook for likes, loves and comments from fans.. 

Over the years, I've collected, written down some of my favorite sayings from Mom (The manager)... oh, and dad too (the bench coach):

"Ya gotta believe".. "We are family"..."Defeat isn't bitter if you don't swallow it.": "To hit .300, you still fail 7 out of 10 times at-bat."... "Make good habits and they will make you.".."I can't do it" never yet accomplished anything - "I will try" has performed miracles."... "Hit hard, run fast, turn left."

Plagiarism:

"My wife tells me one day, 'I think you love baseball more than me.' I say, 'Well, I guess that's true, but hey, I love you more than football and hockey."  Tommy Lasorda

"There's no crying in baseball." Forrest Gump, I think.

"Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America better learn baseball."  Rogers Hornsby

"From baseball I've gained much/many... friends (even a spouse), holes in the knees of my jeans when I was a kid.. broken fingers, stitches, 'strawberries', torn hamstring after hamstring.. holler to and from when I played and umpired (two quick umpire stories.. once, a kid - 9 maybe, got hit by a pitch on his hands.. he limped to first base... and second, a parent heckler yelled and yelled and yelled.. finally came down RIGHT behind the backstop, then yelled "Just HOW do you call balls and strikes?".. "Well sir (I said loud enough for Northern Clay County to hear) first, I DON'T umpire with liquor on my breath."  He no bother me any more that game.)... Baseball likens life (or, as Yogi said, 'You can observe a lot just by watching,') To me there are many wonderful things in life on Earth.. among them, (alphabetically).. Baseball,  Dogs, God, Mates."   Baseball been very bery bery good to me, and Ray."

 Victurd

Now you're stuck!

Earlier today I had a Facebook memory pop up from 10 years ago regarding the day they dedicated the Liberty LePetite in my sister, Vanda Kay Schultze Frantz's name. A friend, Terri, wrote "I guess I was too far behind her to have known her Vic. Please tell me about her!"

So... you're now stuck Terri!  I am terribly biased.  I would hope you would concur she was gorgeous.  First, Terri - I am so appreciative you've asked.  When a loved one is gone, it's a really really good feel to have someone ask about them.  Unfortunately for you, I love to write, so that I will, yes, to answer you and try to explain 'her', but too, for me, because  I love this opportunity to brag on someone you love that's no longer here.

Vanda was born June 22, 1947 and packed a ton into her short-changed life that ended 51 years, 8 months and a day later.  Her sense of humor was unmatched.  Life = fun. If the tone of the room wasn't that way, it would be soon if she entered.

I took a short to go thru some old blogs to describe her in bits and pieces.  Soon, those.  She was loyal. Our family didn't fear the word love and it was tossed with frequency and genuineness.  There wasn't a guy in Liberty her age that didn't try to befriend me in hopes of that being a possible way to maybe capture a date with my sister.

She was an actress (in school.. and later in life).  She cofounded The Liberty Civic Theater group, acted in many a play, directed a few.  A baton twirler. 

Our father was a salesman. Wherever there was a job opportunity for him to make better pay to provide for our family, a U-Haul was rented, off we were.  In 1961, Vanda's sophomore year, it was the 19th house we'd lived in - and Liberty was the longest we'd ever lived anywhere. Upon learning "we're moving", Vanda exclaimed "NO WE'RE NOT." And, thank God, we didn't. She could dig her feet in like that!

Married twice, she had two daughters she doted over, and grandkids she double-triple doted over (not to mention my own kid.)

A few blog diddies:

Vanda, on purpose, was a major teaser, thus, she loved getting under the skin of her brother that was five years younger, me. Somewhere around her junior year, she would spend hours in the bathroom getting ready for a date, knowing I was within earshot, "Oh Vanda.. you are SO, SO, beautiful."  Little brother would run into the bathroom, stick two fingers down his throat, exclaim "GAG", she got the biggest kick out of herself, it bothered me so.  Now, what I wouldn't do to have that scene repeated.

I terribly miss Vanda K. Schultze, my sister. When siblings are youths, the teasing can be 'something'. When she was nine-ish (I was four), due to my red hair and freckles, the 'given right' to poke fun at a younger sibling, and the popularity of Mad Magazine, she called me Alfred E. Newman - infamous for his red-headed, freckled faced googy looking mug on the cover of Mad, with the moniker "What? Me Worry?". 

We'd go to a relative's house we hadn't seen in awhile.. and it was always "Isn't Vanda beautiful.. and isn't Victor... ahm, growing."

Levity, she was a lover of levity from Liberty. Levity helped us in a time of death. A few days after our mother's death, we had a three hour long, wonderful, needed, occasionally tear-filled visit (just Vanda and I) in her motor home in fronta our aunt's house. My sister had THE BEST smirk, prior to a great laugh.  Mid conversation she excused herself to go use the restroom, after she entered I heard this "CLICK". I actually laughed, it was just her and I n the motor home.  Upon her return I asked "Vanda!  You locked the door!  Did you honestly think you had to protect yourself from ME?"  There was that smirk, followed by her wonderful laugh.

Years back, Vanda bought a book all about past students of Liberty High School, and any updates they had on them. We had fun seeing who lived in Hawaii, where was the Homecoming King/Queen living from each of our classes, yada.  I had just switched jobs so I said "Hey, what does it say about me?"... she turned to the page and answered "Cradle robber" (I'd just married a gal almost 8 years younger than I.) Again, she won the tease contest.

My cousin Darrell, who Vanda adored, used to come to Liberty in the summer and we'd go to William Jewell, take blank paper, ink pens and run from this Kansas City Chief to that KC Chief begging for autographs.  Recently Darrell and I visited.  He showed me 3 wonderful pages of autographs we'd gotten from roughly 1964 or so.  Lenny Dawson, Bobby Bell, Hank Stram, Buck Buchanon, etc.  Maybe worth some pretty good money! Darrell then turns to the 3rd page, and right there in the middle was an autograph by "Orville Footstink."  Uh huh, her.  Apparently we'd gone out to play so she grabbed a pen and wrote in good ole Orville.

Vanda did quite well in her chosen field.  She started out as a Day Care teacher, moved to assistant director, director, regional manager, then divisional manager. One day, she and her boss were on a packed elevator.  Both she and my sister were 'somebody' in the small company, but really not known at all by anyone outside the company.  As they would arrive at their floor, and exit the elevator, Vanda turn, and tell those remaining on the elevator "Oh THANK YOU THANK YOU for pretending you didn't recognize her!"  They'd exit, both hee haw, and left those on the elevator wondering just who in the hell they didn't recognize. She also did this in long lines at airline counters.

Once, her three year old daughter was looking allover the house for her older sister. "Did you look in her bedroom?"  yes..  "In the bathroom?"   yes.. "The basement?"   yes..  "Did you look under the refrigerator?"   no.. (and then bent down to inspect to see if her sister was under there.) Vanda was about fun, even if sometimes it was only internal.

Vanda lived virtually every socio-economic lifestyle.  Single mom, on her own. And stages between that and finally a pretty darn good payday. She was the same person in every stage. After our mother's massive stroke, Vanda would take her on work road trips to give our mom something to do, but mainly because Vanda wanted to do that. That was her. Give enjoyment to those in her life.  It was never about her,

Her youngest daughter and I were visiting recently and she told me, "My entire life, I never heard mom say one bad word about anyone." I'm proud of her for that, and only wish I/we could all emulate.

She also wasn't all tease. She would take my family, her family, and our folks out to dinner, spring for all, and as we departed she would rave and thank us, eventually making US feel like we were the  ones to thank for the entire evening.  She would fill up car trunks on kids birthdays.  She would get on the floor, kid level, to visit with tykes.

A final example of how she could turn the tables and make it "all about you" instead of her.  Vanda got breast cancer. She took Plan B (stem cell therapy) versus double mastectomy. It worked, for 4 months.  It then metastasized into her brain. 72 consecutive days, my ex and I went to St. Lukes to see Vanda.  The day before she passed away, Marilyn and I entered her room, and it would be the very last legible words she would utter.  She looked up, face brightened, we were met with smile and "Baby Brother!"...

I wrote too much, but left out much. She was cheated in years, but she certainly wasn't cheated on what she packed in those years.

Terri, sorry to ramble, but again, thank you for asking.

Victor 

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Leonard...

Victor, we know, we know.. "this blog is for you, by you, hitchhikers welcome."

Yes, and this one is selfish.  Yep, I do post these on Facebook, but, in addition to the above (when hopefully promoting positivity, "not preaching") the blog can hopefully periodically bring enjoyment to a reader.

All that said, typed, I also have noted when I type a blog that's primarily personal, it's usually about as popular as a flat tire on Interstate (on the left side, closest to traffic.)

Well, humpity hump bump bump, and apologies, I'm in this one.

Eureka!  A weekend to attend a celebration of life - in, Eureka Springs. My 'brother inlaw' passed away New Year's Day. I say 'brother inlaw'.  He was married to my ex wife's sister.  Since my divorce long ago, we've been left to tease each other as "outlaw sister" (her), "outlaw brother" (me.)

The pandemic, back in the first of the year, made it so formal funerals were basically impossible to due social distancing, worry about Covid, and written law regarding gathering size.

I'm not a great fan of funerals. I'm weak and I break down in visitation lines.  I truthfully never ever want to see a person after they've passed, again. I know many do..I don't.. I prefer to remember them as I did.

That was the intro, and yes, sad.  Celebration of life is a much better idea, and this one certainly fit the bill.

My BIL and SIL, MAJOR hound lovers, were SPCA before SPCA was cool.  Once, to the tune of surfacing over 2,000 sq ft of a house with tile. Rescues, fosters, some with illnesses, afflictions that no one else would take and love, oh boy did they.

If you're gonna have a celebration, why not do it at a gorgeous destination.  Howabout virtually an entire campground of cabins high up above the White River in Eureka Springs.  Back decks on all of the cabins had porches that ran the length of the rear of the cabins. Those with multiple bedrooms, the damn decks wrapped all the way around.  Perfect gathering views suited comfortably for the perfection of enjoyment, levity among friends and family.

Celebration = happy.  No one was happy on the 'why' we were there, but celebration of a life should be just that, a celebration.  Friday night, as folks rolled in, back decks were filled with talk of yesteryear, and yes, and occasional beer or glass of wine for those that desired so.

One of BIL's loves was float trips.. SO, as it should be, Saturday morning, 9:30am, a 4 mile canoe (or kayak) trip, included in the price of the cabin, camaraderie, happiness of it all.

If the gorgeous lifting of the fog, the stately mountains surrounding, or the conglomeration of various types of birds, animals didn't awaken you - it was fer sure a tumble into the 58 degree temperature White River would! I chickened out, er, I mean, I have a wound on my leg I've been going to a Wound Care Clinic for some time now, it ain't quite all healed, WCC say "You no get leg wet".  Have you ever taken a shower with a kitchen trash bag over your lower leg, wrapped tightly with an Ace bandage? If not, I might (probably won't) show you video of me slip sliding away as I enter, exit the shower wearing that.

So, many floated.  Us chickens roosted on the back deck of onea those big damn wraparound decks, and shared war stories and watched for the floaters to eventually appear at the takeout, just to the West of our cabin deck. We hooted and hollered one by one as they appeared.  Only a few 'tested' the 58 degree temps.

Next up, food.  Yum.  Ribs, chicken, brats, dogs, beans, brownies, fruit, eye and belly candy for this fat man.  Big concrete patio was up the hill a ways, taking more breaths away from the beauty of the River below and the cliffs above.

In a continuation of celebration, BIL and SIL loved a particular band.  So, they were hired.  A 4pm start was perfect because the majority of us are early to bed old farts, and, there were probably a few cabins filled with non-related campers, so, to not keep them awake late at night, the band ended at a decent hour.

In addition to there being my ex wife, an ex girlfriend of mine, and the daughter of my 8th grade girlfriend all being there (interesting right?) there were all ages of folks... several hounds.. a pointer who lived on the property and was non stop ALL around the sparse campground.. a basset who provided the standard basset "Burrr urrrr urrrr" sound on command, along with the belly that dang near touched the ground, and ears that almost did too.

My favorite, however, was a black lab mix named Leonard. During the luncheon, Leonard 'gadded about' with leash on, no human attached. Hands were held out to summons him, if he chose you (and he virtually chose all), you'd be lucky enough to keep his attention, and his self there long enough to get a darn good scratchin' in.

Leonard ALWAYS had one eye on his owner.  I guess he assumed she might leave him, but, with the view, all the places to run, the river, not to mention tons of ribs, maybe not a bad place to be left.

Leonard didn't dance amongst the 25 or so that did, but, he did follow his master to the dance floor almost every time, plopped down right next to her as she danced...then she would lead him to the nearest empty lawn chair after, and I was so lucky that was the chair right infronta me several times. I never tired of giving soft ear rubs, good ole back scratches, and lotsa conversation, as if he understood human talk.  He was pretty smart, mighta.

I had many 'favorites' during the trip.  Catching up with old buddies.  Seeing the joy of my SIL's face as so many good, great friends, family attended the celebration.  The long back deck where my SIL stayed and most of us gathered. (Has anyone EVER seen a porch that ain't popular?  I ain't.)

Continuing on favs, the river, the mountains in the background, the Arkansas accents, the familiarity of voice of Missouri friends. The happiness of those dancing.  Grannies lifted grands, then hopped and jumped along side 'em as they did.  Moms did too.  The moms were probably the most graceful, the kids the most jovial, fun to watch - but the dancing of the grandmas, the smiles on their faces and the obvious exhaustion within each was nifty to see.  A celebration.

Everyone petted Leonard.  Everyone. He really wasn't a side to side tailwagger, really didn't have an apparent smile on his face, he just somehow made people feel like they needed to walk up to him and starta scratchin' on him.  In fact, the owner said "if we do this again next year, I'm gonna strap a tip jar on him."

A wonderful time was had by all, inspitea those damned ole Biden high gas prices, tsk tsk, the signed 20 mph curved roads thirty miles going to, or leaving Eureka.. As I looked back though, I knew exactly when my favorite moment happened.  At the completion of a song, the dance floor cleared, except for Leonard (laying on his side) and a 4 year old girl laying beside him, hugging him. I don't remember if the band took a break, or they simply waited a bit for the hugging to finish - but it went on awhile.. high above the White River, just below the mountain tips, amidst both sides of the family, friends, loved ones, and yes, even ex wives, gf's and gf's daughters. Color me wimpy as men ain't supposed to have 'aww" moments.  Screw that, it was an aww moment.

River. Cabins. Porches. Mountains. a wondrous meal. Live music. Gathered folks that loved one another.  Dogs.  Leashless dogs. A certainty BIL was smiling from above.

A beautiful celebration.

Love, Victurd

Jolly good....

Elijah Ezekiel Edmund Edison finally got his complete name finished on his Big Chief tablet the 3rd Quarter of his 2nd grade year. The kids made fun, he didn't care - he looked at life as a party, why get mad when laughter feels so much better?

Elijah dreamed of putting on a Major League uniform one day. Living two doors down from Tank Zernok, they played catch, hit flies to each other, and over the course of their childhood, played 'pepper' 11,487 times, but who's counting. Elijah's 'career' led him to be the quintessential JV player. His senior year in High School, he finally made the varsity, basically because Seniors couldn't play on the JV. He would only enter the game if his team was 10 runs up, or 10 runs down. Tank, however, led the conference in batting average, doubles, triples, stolen bases, and his home run total of 34 was the second best EVER in the entire State. Each, and every homer (double, triple, stolen base, yada) Tank would be met by the first in line to greet him, clean uniformed Elijah. You would think Elijah would have no finger prints or hand prints left after having high-fived Tank so many times.

The end of the season happened, a baseball banquet was held.  Second place finish in State, pretty darn good. Nearing the end of the banquet, the Coach had a special announcement. "In addition to Tank being named, All Conference, All District, All State - I'm here to announce he's just been offered a contract by the Cincinnati Reds!" Elijah was the first to stand, the first to "WOO HOO!", and soon the entire crowd joined him. Tank, laid back, sem-shy, partially embarrassed by all the attention made a short speech.  He thanked his parents, his teachers, his coaches, all the fans/students and finished with "I am here to tell you, I would not be here if it weren't for my best bud, Elijah!" More hooping and hollering, Elijah let out the very biggest smile he'd ever had, and that was pretty damn big because he was ALWAYS smiling.

Arnie, Elijah's coworker at the printing factory - became Elijah's 2nd 'BFF'. Daily, Elijah would swing by Arnie's house to pick him up for work. In 100 degree temps, pouring rain, slip sliding away ice,  and even in tornadic threatening storms. (Blog writer's edit:  They underlined 'tornadic' indicating it ain't a word... should be.) Arnie had medical issues through no fault of his own and missed many days early in his career. Elijah always picked up the slack and would call Arnie after to work to check on hm. Arnie, over the years, slowly arose through the ranks, lead, manager,  VP, and ultimately President/Plant Manager of the entire company. Elijah kept the same position for years and years, but he did it better than anyone the company ever had. One day Arnie called him in his office, Elijah walked in the door, offered that smile of all smiles to his buddy - Arnie proceeded with "Elijah, I simply want to thank you. I wouldn't be here if it were not for your devotion, stability and friendship."  A smile wider than Texas came upon Elijah's face.. "Oh thanks Arnie, but you'll never know how much fun you've given me with your friendship."

That was Elijah.  Doing for others, but always wanting to remain in the back row, outta the limelight, yet lighting up the room with his smile.

Elijah would have that effect (or, blog writer always confused, wonders if that should be affect, "sorry Mrs. Pugh, HS English teacher.") for anyone who met, befriended him. He was friend, confidant to the cashier at QT, the guy who oiled the lanes at Stanley bowl, to his cousins, his siblings, folks, the neighbor kids, coworkers, teammates, yada.  His take on life was bend, never break, and that included a persistent smile, no matter.

Later in life, Elijah would get sick.  He battled for many a year.  Arnie made it so he could work from home and he never missed a payday, had continuous health insurance.

Doc Henson called Tank one day, then Arnie, then Elijah's oldest brother.  A turn for the worse. Devastation to them all. They all gathered and decided upon a special retirement party for Elijah. Phone calls were made to all the guys on the HS baseball team, all the employees at the plant, the QT lady, all his family members, the guy who oiled the lanes at the Stanley bowl, many.

They decided to keep it a secret. Thursday, at 4pm exactly, they all met in front of Elijah's house on 6th Street. Elijah's folks welcomed them in.  Marching back to the Elijah's bedroom, once they got there, they noticed scads of pics on the walls, virtually each and every one in the crowd had their smiling mug on the wall. That was Elijah.  It's about you, not me.

One by one they moved through the line to offer congrats.  It was easy to see Elijah was dealing with some pretty severe pain, but each and every tear of those in line was met with that beautiful, everpresent smile of Elijah's.

Over the years, Elijah Ezekiel Edmund Edison had experienced bullying, laughter, making fun of his name, yada.  He took it in stride, with smile. Their memories of Elijah rapidly ran through their brains while they all awaited the chance to congratulate Elijah. One by one came to the realization Elijah had taught them more than they could ever repay him for.  His friendship, his loyalty, his jovialness was unmatched.

He loved them all.  Equally, no matter if you were the starting shortstop for the Reds, the Plant manager, the cubicle mate, the QT lady, bowling alley dude, of course friends and family. "Four E" as he was known, and certainly teased about over the years, never regretted for once his folks adorning him with all those E's. (Ezekiel and Edmund were his grandfather's names, and he was Edison proud of that.)  No one knew exactly how to end this party. It was pretty evident Elijah's party of life, was nearing an end.

Finally Tank stepped forward. He looked to his right, and to his left, and started to sing "Four E's a jolly good fellow, four E's a jolly good fellow."  Trite? Not on your life, it was heartfelt. One by one they joined in. Tears were the order of singing the song.  Not Elijah.  A smile brighter than the lights at the McGregor HS Ballfield came across his face.  

Of course, Elijah thanked each and every one. Of course it couldn't be about him, as always, it was about them.

Four E's a jolly good fellow.  A pretty damn good life to live, example to follow.

Love, Victurd