In the seventies the Cincinnati Reds were playing in massive Riverfront Stadium and they were in their glory. They were known as the Big Red Machine and they were a pennant-producing powerhouse. Summer nights I lay in my bed and listened to the heroics of Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Dave Concepcion, George Foster, Ken Griffey, Joe Morgan, Cesar Cedanio, Don Gullett and company on my little radio. It was lined with leather with a little leather strap across the top and a silver metal face. It was a neat little radio. I set the radio on my headboard, enamored as my Grandpa Shipley always was by electronic gizmos. If the Reds were on the west coast I often fell asleep before I knew the outcome of the game.
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You Have to Do the Miles
On a Friday night before the Ludington Lakestride Half-Marathon we were eating a pre-race meal with the family in a little Italian Restaurant. During our dinner we were talking about my friend Dan, who is a Marathoner. He ran the Boston Marathon this year. He is very, very quick.
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The Sin of Sodom
It is interesting to me that of the sins which brought judgment on Sodom gluttony is listed; “Look, this was the iniquity of your sister Sodom: She and her daughter had pride, fullness of food and abundance of idleness” – Ezekiel 16:49.
Three things occur to me when I read this:
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People Who Love You Thick or Thin
Last night Hope said; “Dad, even if you were fat I would still love you and I would still hug you and snuggle with you.
When Kyle was a little boy he rode a school bus for one school year. In the morning I always brewed a pot of coffee and I would walk him out to the road where we would wait for the School Bus. I always hated seeing the little guy in his neat school clothes and mother-attended hair climb up the steps into the big yellow diesel dragon and drive away. I would stand and watch until the bus drove over the hill and out of site and then walk slowly back into the house.
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The Roots of Common Civility
I don’t want to sound like a curmudgeon, but I still think at is rude to be loud in public as if everyone within blocks is interested in the details of your personal life. I’m still a little surprised that a man would think I would be interested in being an unwilling party to a business transaction he is loudly discussing on his cell phone while I am trying to make sense of the paper in the coffee shop. People play music that can be heard over a three-county area without asking if I am interested.
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