Pictures of You

Once both girls were off to college, I was a little lost. All of those years that I spent on the skating board, working for Andy and Neverland, being an officer on the Chorus Parents Association, creating and assembling the programs for the annual skating show, Neverland shows, and HHS musicals, it all suddenly stopped. As crazy as it all was, I enjoyed those years so much. I sometimes don’t know how I managed it all, especially working in Boston as well. But when you are having fun, it is surprising what you can accomplish.

The empty nest – what to do now? I was lucky that both girls went to school close to home so I did get to see them, especially in the beginning. When Laura first began at Merrimack, I read all of her religion and philosophy texts and books. I thought seriously about returning to school. I started to work more and for the first time, I started to hate it. Work had always been what I did just to make a few dollars. My real life had nothing to do with work. It was full of things I was far more passionate about, so when all the activities ended, for the first time, work became pure drudgery. I needed a diversion.

The 2005 Red Sox did not live up to the incredible 2004 championship team and in 2006 the team traded Hanley Ramirez for Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell. Mark Loretta also joined the team and I saw something special in both Mark and Mike. It wasn’t long before I was hooked.

Both players were smart and articulate. I met Mark at during 2006 and he was just a terrific guy. Although a native of California, he had played in the Cape Cod baseball league in college and absolutely loved Boston. I totally enjoyed talking to him – he was incredibly down to earth. He was so proud of his seafood restaurant in Arizona – the only place in the Southwest where you can get New England clam chowder. He only spent one year with the Sox, but he was fun to watch. I was disappointed when he didn’t return in 2007.

I am not certain exactly when I started closely following Mike Lowell’s career. I watched him most of 2006 and there was something unique and interesting about him. Mike went to college on an academic scholarship graduating with a 4.0. He is bilingual and it’s hard to believe that his primary language is actually Spanish. He is so well-spoken and has a very dry sense of humor. He also was magic at third – third and catcher always being my favorite positions. But beyond all of that, he just seemed so real – so unpretentious – just a regular guy who had beaten cancer and talked with passion about his family, his heritage, and his profession. About this time I started going back to Fenway and totally enjoyed being at games again. I also started taking pictures.

When I met Mike for the first time in 2007, he couldn’t have been nicer. He signed a photo that had been taken by Kelly O’Connor, an amateur photographer who takes amazing pictures of the Sox. As he was signing the photo, he said, “This is a great shot. Can you send it to me?” I told him I would, although at the time, I really wasn’t sure if I would follow through.

A few weeks later I decided to mail the photo to him at Yawkey Way. In the meantime, I continued to take and collect photos. He wound up having an amazing 2007 and the Sox won the World Series again. He was named MVP and I just had such a blast watching the Sox and rooting for him that year.

I had so many photos, especially of Mike, and I planned to just dump most, if not all of them. But then I thought about adding them to a cd and giving them to him at the Baseball Writers Dinner in January. Bob thought it was a little nuts and he would probably just toss the cd, but I decided, why not? He would probably toss the cd, but then again, maybe not.

To my surprise I heard from Mike shortly thereafter. Thus began the yearly cd to him. Over the years he sent me autographed photos and an autographed book. My favorite response was definitely this year when he just sent a letter to say what he was up to since his retirement. I had also sent him my license plate that he said he had added to his memorabilia room. That was just awesome!

I am going to miss watching Mike play and also taking and collecting photos for him.  He made the last several seasons such a joy. He was really one of a kind. There was just something different about him. I just had that feeling that he would appreciate the collection of photos of his career in Boston. It was such fun and I am so happy that he plans on using my photos to chronicle his career with the Sox. Now I just need another diversion……

Mr. G. and the Boys of Summer

From the day winter begins, I start counting down the days for it to end. The first milestone is always the annual Boston Baseball Writer’s dinner in January. It is always a good time. We attended for several years but since the price increased and our financial situation changed, we have chosen not to go. The next big milestone is the beginning of spring training. Once the games in Fort Meyers begin, it feels like we just may make it through another cold and dreary winter season. This one has been particularly brutal.

I have loved baseball for almost as long as I can remember. There was a time that I had no clue about the game and I could have cared less. That all changed when my fifth grade teacher (who really intimidated me) basically embarrassed me on a daily basis starkly pointing out my lack of knowledge and understanding of the game in front of the boys in my class by pummeling me daily with questions I couldn’t answer. I was one of those kids that normally became emotionally crushed when ridiculed in front of her peers. I wanted the humiliation to end and the only way I knew was to learn – to be able to answer Mr. Gearty’s incessant baseball questions.

And learn I did, until the game became one of my greatest passions. Lucky for me, the Red Sox had a magical season that year. After 1967 I attended day games at Fenway Park regularly, sitting in the bleachers and scoring from the first pitch to the last. I normally sat in the same general admission spot and was lucky that, after a while, many of the pitchers knew I would be there and would say hello. I was occasionally sent on an errand or two to buy a fudgesicle for one of the guys.

I was mesmerized by the game. I loved going alone, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells all around me. Sometimes a friend would join me, but not often. And that was just fine by me. I even had a few adventures – like in 1969 when I boarded the Detroit Tigers bus with hall of famer Al Kaline looking for catcher Bill Freehan of the Tigers who I loved to watch. When I look back I realize how nuts that was. But, at the time, I was so innocent and had no clue that it was really something very out of the ordinary.

For several years in the 70’s I enjoyed watching Dwight “Dewey” Evans and he became my favorite player. Dewey was another gentleman who was just magic in right field. He was not a bad hitter either. He had two sons afflicted with elephant man’s disease. His son Tim suffered from large growths all over his face and was constantly having surgeries. I dont think his son Justin had it as bad but I remember him having growths on his spine. Now having a handicapped child or a child with a significant illness must be difficult for any person but for an elite athlete it has to be particularly tough. And he had two sons that endured surgery after surgery. Dewey always seemed to be such an incredible dad, so supportive and loving of his sons. How he was able to excel in his career with all the worries at home is pretty amazing. As far as I know he is still married to the same person. Although he never made a big deal of it, he was extremely supportive of neurofibromatosis.

Dewey played with the Sox for a long time and that was really cool. In the 80’s and 90’s the focus of my life changed. I was a mom and baseball took a back seat to my passion for my family. I still loved the Sox but really did not have time to watch many games any longer. Around 2002 I started watching again in earnest and was rewarded with the incredible World Series Championship in 2004. It was the culmination of so many years of excitement and heartache.

How lucky I have been to be a Boston fan. Although fifth grade was hard, learning about baseball was a victory for me and I suddenly felt proud of my knowledge of the game. So I guess I owe it all to Mr. Gearty. By sixth grade he knew he had created a monster and he was the one who taught me how to score the games. I went to see him often after school just to talk about the game. It made me happy and it also made me pretty popular around the sixth grade boys!

Truck Day Musings……..

 Today was “truck day” – the Red Sox equipment truck began its journey from Fenway Park for the nearly 1,500-mile trip to the Sox Spring Training home in Fort Myers, Florida. Only in Boston would “truck day” be an event!! It is exciting for me that spring training will soon be here. And today got me thinking about baseball in general and the players that have touched my life in a special way.

Although I have been an avid baseball fan for more than forty years, I have never been particularly impressed with most athletes and jocks. I know that it takes a great deal of dedication and perseverance to become great at a sport. But so many become so full of themselves, filled with a sense of entitlement and perception of being far more important than they really are. They often lose touch with who they are and where they came from. It is not really their fault. After all, we create them, often turning a blind eye as they receive perks and privileges through our educational system and in everyday life. They earn exorbitant salaries and are surrounded by many young women and girls whose judgment disappears in their mere presence.

My first real experience witnessing this almost godlike treatment of an athlete was in high school where Brian “Dukie” Walsh was touted by so many locals as the athlete with the best chance of making it to the NHL. This was during the Bobby Orr era and hockey insanity was alive and well in Boston. Dukie was a year older than me but wound up in a few of my classes. He even stole my Religion test right off my desk to copy my answers! I remember him talking about how his grades were inflated so that he would be accepted to an elite school with a top hockey program. Unfortunately for Dukie, injuries prevented him from attaining his dream, but it was an eye-opening experience to see how he was treated compared with everyone else.

Over the years I have enjoyed watching various athletes but have admired very few. Sure there were those that I just enjoyed watching for whatever the reason (not necessarily because they were the best) - Gary Waslewski, Gary Allenson, Butch Hobson, Rick Burleson and Ed Westfall to name a few. But there are only a few players that I can really say made me stand up and take notice and that I can honestly say I truly respected both as players and men. I am sure there are hundreds of athletes that have made a difference but these are the ones that have touched my heart. The first one was known as the “gentle giant.” The others I will include in future writings.

Gentleman Jim was handsome, 6’ 5” and mild-mannered. When interviewed he was rather quiet and clearly intelligent, a graduate of Stanford University. He loved baseball but his dream was to study medicine or dentistry. He won the Cy Young Award in 1967 and I loved watching him pitch (or hearing him pitch with my radio tucked under my pillow since only weekend games were televised). I was only ten and just beginning my love of baseball. While lots of kids loved Yaz and Tony C, for me there was something very special about Jim Lonborg. He embraced charitable and humanitarian causes quietly and with no fanfare. He adopted several Vietnamese children and his priorities were all in the right place. After a skiing accident he was never the same pitcher but he was definitely the first athlete I can honestly say that I adored. I was so nervous when I accidently met him that I remember scaring the crap out of him when I came up from behind him! He shook my hand and I remember never wanting to wash it again! After retiring, Jim Lonborg graduated from Tufts Dental School and is still a dentist. It is very cool that he was able to achieve two dreams – both a baseball and dental career.

As this is becoming very lengthy, I will continue this post on another day. Happy Truck Day Red Sox Nation!!!!

Is it Spring Yet?

The winter of 2011 has been, to say the least, awful. The number of plowable storms in such a short period of time is pretty astounding. I have never been one to even consider moving to a warmer climate in my senior years, but this year just truly makes me wonder.

It is not that I hate winter in New England. I just hate the hassles of travel. The commute to work can be pretty atrocious in normal conditions. Today’s travel ordeal resulted in a first for me – requiring all four subway lines to reach my destination. It was an adventure I could live happily without.

First, the Downeaster Amtrak train broke down just in front of North Station. After waiting at a dead stop for twenty extra minutes with the platform within reaching distance of my outstretched hand, I trudged to the Orange Line. At State our subway abruptly jerked to a halt - medical emergency at Downtown Crossing. So, off I went, to the Blue Line to go backwards to Government Center to intersect with the Green Line.  Once on the Green Line, I traveled to Park Street to get to the Red Line.  Red Line to North Quincy to meet the shuttle for work. Ten minutes shy of three hours since I left home, I was plugging in my laptop at my desk.

It felt as if I had just arrived when I was putting my coat on to go home. I reached the front door of my building just to watch the shuttle pull away. When I finally arrived at North Quincy station, luck repeated itself as I watched the inbound train close its doors just as I reached the platform. After fifteen minutes I was on my journey again to Downtown Crossing. As I rode the escalator to the Orange Line I could hear the P-A system - disabled train at Sullivan Square. Hundreds of people like sardines on the platform and I now had twenty-five minutes to get to North Station for the Downeaster.

Over the years I have become very skilled at picking the right spot to stand while waiting for the subway’s arrival. After about ten minutes, the announcement that the train was approaching created a visual that looked like hundreds of people on the starting line waiting for the shot to sprint. As the train pulled into the station it was clear that there was not a square inch remaining to put a small child in, let alone dozens of travel-weary adults carrying all manner of bags and suitcases. No matter what I was getting on that train!

As luck would have it (as much luck as I could muster today at least), my position was perfect, so perfect that a total of ONE person got on the train – me!! When I reached North Station I raced through the thousands of college students arriving for the Beanpot. With two minutes to spare, I jumped on the Downeaster and plopped down on an empty seat. Yes, I made it!!

Which is where I now compose this entry. As I open the laptop and start to type the train pulls away. Bravo!! Finally heading home! “Ladies and gentlemen, there is a signal problem in Wilmington and our train will be delayed.” Could I have expected any less? At some point I will arrive home this evening. And the best part is that I get to do this again very soon.

Sometimes Life Gets in the Way

As he was looking through one of the photo books I recently completed, my daughter’s fiancé asked me what had happened to one of my friends in a picture. In the process of organizing these memories from my younger years, I thought a lot about the friends that had not only touched my life, but had a tremendous impact on the person I am. It is sad to say that I have lost touch with these wonderful women but recently I have tried to reach out to, at least, say hello.

From the time I was very little, my cousin Ann and I were inseparable. The country mouse and the city mouse my grandfather called us. I spent many summer months in Tewksbury (yes, it really was the “country” back then) and she, likewise, in Cambridge. Whenever my grandfather went to see my uncle I would do everything in my power to get him to take me along. Of course this took convincing my mother which was far more difficult than my grandfather. If for some reason I failed, Ann was always on the other end pleading with “Boss” to take her back to Cambridge with him. Ann came to the “city” where the chiming of the clock outside every hour on the hour disturbed her sleep while I went to the country where her many brothers and sisters (9 in all) woke me up at the crack of dawn while Ann blissfully slept through the chaos. In the “country” we swam, rode bikes, and walked miles to get to the only fast food restaurant, a McDonalds, to treat ourselves to a small fry each. I also went to my share of drum and bugle events there. In the city, we frequented the local museums, Fenway Park, and just hung around telling each other our secrets and enjoying each other’s company.

Ann was just a gorgeous girl, and I was a tad jealous of her. She also possessed an adventurous spirit and a joy about life that was magnetic. She brought out the best of my quiet self. We continued our overnight visits until I was a senior (she a junior) in high school, when it became increasingly difficult due to boyfriends and school commitments. Around this time, Ann back-packed across Europe and she lived in California with her father for about a year. She has overcome so many challenges including struggling with her decision of to have an abortion, the death of her boyfriend, the loss of her home and her husband’s business, the suicide of her son’s girlfriend, and surviving colon cancer. Amazingly she still has that upbeat attitude and beautiful smile. I have touched base with her a few times in recent years. She has four beautiful grandsons and I miss her. One day I may just surprise her and make a date for a drink and some reminiscing.

The photo that Dave looked at was of Betty, my best friend from the seventh grade through high school. Like many girls, middle school was not easy socially for me and in the seventh grade the group of girls I had been with for several years no longer had use for me, though I cannot for the life of me remember why. When I became an outcast, Betty, a quiet classmate, befriended me. When the seventh grade group that dissed me tried to befriend me again, I chose Betty instead. We had so much fun and stayed close friends even though we went to different high schools. One thing I remember so well about growing up in Cambridge was walking – we walked everywhere or took the T. Betty and I constantly walked. She even helped me out of the manhole when I fell in on one of our many excursions! Betty was quiet but had a great sense of humor and was always there when I needed her. I chose Betty as my maid of honor but she was eight months pregnant by the time I got married so Ann honored me by taking her place. Like me, Betty had two daughters. We exchanged Christmas cards and photos for many years but one day I just stopped hearing from her. I recently connected with her on facebook. I have sent her a couple of messages but nothing in return. In my paranoid mind, I wonder if somehow I might have unknowingly done something in the past to cause her to withdraw from my friendship. I hope not and only wish the best for her. Someday maybe our paths will cross again.

I went to a different high school than anyone else. It wasn’t easy. Although I went to high school in North Cambridge, all of my friends were from Somerville. No one from East Cambridge ever attended Matignon except me, and later, my younger sisters. For my freshman and sophomore years in high school my best friend was Sharon Daly. We had such fun together and were insane Bruins fans. When she made the varsity football cheering squad, well, that was basically it. I understood as you were not part of the cheerleader’s group unless you were a cheerleader. I hung out with Janet O’Byrne and Donna Perry for the next couple of years. By the time I was a senior I was dating Bob and was so done with high school and couldn’t wait for it to be over. Donna went to Tufts and soon had a breakdown from the pressure. I lost track of Janet.

During high school there was a girl named LuAnn Matarazzo in my class. We never connected and she basically hung around with girls she had gone to elementary/middle school with. We ended up going to college together and became close friends. A petite girl, LuAnn had the driest sense of humor. We were both out of our element at Lesley, a school of wealthy, Jewish girls. Initially we were both in special ed, but I couldn’t handle it. LuAnn, on the other hand, worked at Fernald State School and cared for severely disabled adults in occupational care. I admired that she did this with such grace and never complained. I couldn’t even deal with the smell of the place, let alone caring for the residents. We were so busy working and going to school that we didn’t get to go out much socially. She was dating Paul and I was dating Bob throughout college. I remember when Paul was trying to establish his own donut business in Dorchester, apparently too close to another donut business nearby. His business was burned to the ground one night with him inside guarding it since he had so many threats. Thankfully he got out but that was the end of his donut dream, although he established his own electrical business a few years later. Shortly after they married, LuAnn became very ill with ulcerative colitis. She was fed through a tube for many months. The medical formula she needed cost $7,200 a month – a huge sum in 1980. LuAnn had two sons and we lost touch after a few years. I recently friended her on facebook. In her profile picture, she looked as beautiful as she did in college. Yesterday I noticed a post from her that she was undergoing chemotherapy. I wrote to her and found that this is her second bout with a rare form of lung cancer. During her first chemotherapy treatments two years ago, her sister died of colon cancer. She is upbeat and battling cancer a second time. No complaints. I am humbled by her courage, even though she insists she is no hero. I am thrilled that she is still together with Paul. Interestingly Ann is still with Mark and Betty is still with Richie. Very cool. I pray that LuAnn will beat cancer a second time.

When we were in elementary school, high school, and college, we promised we would always be together and never forget one another. In the beginning, we really tried to see each other and keep the friendships alive. But as years went by, each of us had our own families and lived in different communities. We each have had our own struggles – I feel so fortunate as mine have been minor in comparison to my friends. They were, and still are, remarkable women and I still feel blessed that they were such a part of my younger years. I wish we had remained closer over the years, but sometimes life just gets in the way.

Picture Perfect

This entry will definitely be short ‘n sweet as I am immersed in a project. Long ago, I used to be very organized. In college everything had its place and I always knew where to find anything I needed or wanted. I am not sure when my life became such a mess, but clutter became the norm rather than the exception. One of my goals this year is to become more organized. I decided to take on my first task – our pictures. So many beautiful memories strewn all over – in boxes, drawers, you name it. I must say that this project will be more fun than some others as each picture holds a memory and I love looking at them. So back to my project I go. I’ll let you know of my progress tomorrow.

No Regrets

Back for day two  – yeah, I am actually surprised myself. Alone for now and a little emotional. I can get through this but it feels so weird. It has been a VERY long time since I was alone for even a bit.

Just thinking about the work week ahead. Truth be told, I am tired of the rat race, tired of it taking over two hours to get to the office, even if I only have to physically be there a couple of days a week. The fact of the matter is that it is so incredibly stupid that I go into the office at all. Everything I do can be accomplished quite nicely offsite. In fact, I am more productive at home. I trudge into the office to do exactly the same thing as I do here. Often management doesn’t even see me. This is all some political bullshit and I hate playing the game. It makes no sense to me whatsoever.

I have worked a long time and often wonder - how did I get here? Like every other idealistic college graduate, I started out wanting to make a difference. I would make a difference. Somehow I would change a little piece of the world. I guess most people do not end up where they once aspired to be. But I do understand how it happened to me and I know for the most part I did the right thing. My life has never been defined in any way by my career but by my family. Which is kind of funny since I was part of the generation that embraced The Feminine Mystique. I guess some women can “have it all” and make it work. Not only was that not me, I don’t think in my heart I ever really wanted it. I do wish I had pursued teaching a little harder but I will never regret my education. It helped to shape me into the person and mother I became. But not having a “career”, climbing the corporate ladder   - I have never defined success that way. Consequently, I have no regrets.

For many years work just didn’t matter. I guess that is why I am still where I am and never left. Because, quite frankly, it just wasn’t that important. Although I have always prided myself in a job well-done, work was just a diversion – and a way to help provide a few extras. It was crazy for sure. I became a seasoned afternoon clock-watcher. I remember literally running out of the office, sprinting to the orange line, running to the commuter rail, transferring to a bus in Reading, praying 93 or 495 would not be backed up, racing to my car and home so that I would not be late for a skating lesson or theatre practice. It was all a little insane but, again, no regrets. I just wish all that running had kept me skinny – but that’s another story.

I loved those crazy years. I loved my involvement in the theatre and with the skating club. It was where I was able to put that passion that I put aside when I was literally bumped out of the education field. I loved being with the girls – watching them grow, admiring their confidence, resiliency, and hard-work. Amazed at their incredible poise on the ice and on-stage. I am so lucky that I was able to combine my job and my life and make it work, even through all of the craziness.

It is now that is the challenge. I will move to another chapter in my life – just not sure what it will be. I must remain where I am – at least a little while longer. It is just how it is. In the meantime, I enjoy seeing the girls whenever we can get together and man, I love the Sox. They have been a lifesaver during the beginning of these “empty nest” years. It is a place to put my passion for now and to enjoy with the hubby. The future is a little uncertain right now. But I will make the best of whatever direction it leads.

Enough rambling for today. Hey, I think I like this. So cool not to worry about sentence fragments or perfect grammar and to just write as things pop into my head. I do enough of that stuff every day. Thanks Denise for pointing me here. And no, I am not obsessing about editing and re-writing drafts. Now, that is freedom. If I have one regret, it is that I never journaled over the years after high school. Now I have a chance to change that and I hope that I can keep it up. Adios!