Did You Tell the World?

 

Let the whole world know. The world is coming to an end. Maybe. But we don't know the exact day. Is it worth telling?

What gets you excited? Something that you can't keep inside you. It's bubbling over and your about to burst. You gotta tell your friends.

When I was a kid I always looked forward to my birthday. Balloons decorated my house with lots of presents. Bulging eyes kept me guessing. 

Ice cream and birthday cake topped the occasion. The candles were lite, my friends sang happy birthday, and I couldn't wait to tell the world. I loved all the attention.

New job, car, or wedding were among other things to talk about. Lots of chatter, some good and some bad. But let the world know.

I remember the day I became a Christ follower at church camp. It changed my life completely and some how the whole church knew about it. It was the talk of the town.

Nothing surprised me more than when my cousin took me to my first baseball game at Wrigley Field in Chicago. A little white ball with stitches on it created all the action, baseball uniforms, and dugouts. Wow, wait till my friends hear about this. Watching the Cubs play ball was fun. 

Is life good to you? What gets you excited? Why not tell the world or are you already spreading the news? Does the world know all about you? People make the world go around.

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Where is Dad?

 

Next Sunday is Father's Day. It's a time of mixed feelings where folks are reminded about the good old days while some of regrets wishing that the experience never existed. 

During his weekly TV show Perry Como sat on a stool before a large curtain singing one of his favorite tunes. "Memories are made of things like this..." started to melt away many hearts. The thoughts spun in the hearts and minds of a large audience.

Remember "Father Knows Best," starting Robert Young? A household bubbled over with lots of humor mixed with some serious moments along with lots of activity. Upbeat. A great time to belong to a family. And of course father always knew best.

Fishing with dad always made the perfect relationship. MayBerry R.F.D. had it right. The show always opened with Opie walking down a path with his fishing pole and Andy Griffith. Life couldn't be any better.

Baseball is my first love. So naturally with a tattered baseball and wrinkled glove I was in my second heaven. If only dad were here life would be so much better. Wishful thinking.

In another story a boy loved to play catch with his father between farm chores. Baseball was in his blood. There wasn't anything else he'd rather do. While growing up he learned all the tricks of the trade. His dad even made him a baseball bat. 

When he left home to pursue a baseball career he was seriously injured. Somebody tried to shoot him. But in time he came back and cheered the fans when he hit the lights on top of the stadium. He was a hero.

Our story is from the movie "The Natural" staring Robert Redford. He played Roy Hobbs who became one of the best players in the league and the Knights ( New York baseball team) started to win games. This upset the judge, their owner, who wanted Hobbs to lose games, not win. An interesting story about a farm boy turned pro. 

But I miss my dad. My sister and I lost dad due to an illness when we were two years old. Dad's are precious. Growing up without a dad and listening to our friends whom had one, is like missing a link to a puzzle. 

Happy Father's Day everybody. And we hope you have a blessed time.

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Why be a Writer?

 

Why be a writer? It may surprise you, but God provided a way and opened a door. Can you identify with this type of an experience? 

The question has been asked many times, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" It's a profound question. What is a kid suppose to think? Their mind is about to explode. An imagination gone wild. 

There are lots of things I wanted to be. Did they ever materialize? Nope. I'm still not the president of the United States. 

What fascinates you? What sticks in your brain and lingers in your to-do list? 

One day I got inspired watching "The Waltons." John-boy was a writer and so I wanted to be a writer. But how did I know if that was God's will? I didn't until a package (gift wrapped) arrived titled God's gift and talent for you. I was anxious to learn more about my journey.

There are lots of things that reveal His will. The key is to look for them. Life is a continual learning experience.

My father was a good writer so my mother tells me. He died when I was two years old. Because my mother was an immigrant and my father was a Native American I doubted her comment, but I was wrong. Writing was in my DNA.

I liked baseball and loved to imitate the sports broadcasters. With a game broad and plastic players I was in another world.

God gave me a broad range of interest. There wasn't anything that didn't attract my attention to write and talk about. 

A family member is a commercial artist. She helped me to make camera-ready stuff. Yes the commuter age is here to stay. 

I took a writers class and along with some friends polished my writing skills. While I still have a long way to go, I always have a desire to learn new things.

I now have three baseball stories on Amazon. In addiction my blog titled "Corner Lots Baseball" offers many interesting and entertaining stories FREE for the asking for other readers to enjoy. Thank you God.

It's never too late for you to climb on board and do God's will. Don't allow your passions to lay dormant in your DNA.

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Where is My Baseball Glove?

 

No it's not missing in action. Besides military service men and women whom we all miss dearly, it is something important to me. Even more important than gold and silver.

Nothing thrills me more than a baseball game with friends on a corner lot. Those were the good old days. Wearing blue jeans, sport shirt, and tennis shoes, we had fun. But not all of us were on the same level playing field.

With a collection of splintered bats and tattered baseballs that saw better days, we spread some cardboard bases on the infield. Nothing was impossible for our love to play baseball in those by gone days. Even our baseball gloves had seen better days. 

But I struggled. A friend loaned me a glove that was collecting dusk in his attic. Something was always better than nothing.

It was during the war and hard to purchase a right handed glove for a southpaw. They just didn't make them in those days. Southpaws were depraved. It wasn't a level playing field. 

Fortunately for us over time things began to change. It was a BIG Day in my life when I got my very own brand new right handed baseball glove. You can bet your life on it that I would let no one steal it from me, so watch out. The pride and joy of a little rascal baseball player lived on forever.

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