un dia, mi padre me di un regalo tan rico
Sometimes, you grow up going to church and you perform all the routines and rituals and then as you get older you kind of grow out of all that and either you chuck it all out the window or you adapt and personalize it.
I'd like to think I've wholly ditched Catholicism etc since I believe in science and evolution and humanism and organized sports but I'm still compelled to give something up for Lent, I occasionally cross myself, and I find myself going home on Sundays to spend time with my family.
This Sunday my father, a man with a murky past, presented me with an old scorebook he'd found at that mad good second hand bookstore in Plainville. You know how when you buy checks, the printers helpfully stamp the first couple of numbers of the year where the date goes? Well, this one's date column has the first THREE year numbers printed: 195_. How shortsighted of those uptight, buzzcut, lawnmowing white men who worked at Wilson Athletic Equipment. (I'm talking to you, IRWIN M. HOWE!) Atomic Age my ass!
So thank you, Father, for the relic. But now I don't know if I want to write in it.
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
In the year 19500 that thing'll be ready to roll. Bonus: It'll be good a hundred years. I hope pigs learn baseball, though, since they'll be running the world by then.
I don't know which Plainville you mean, but it makes us Connect-fours think of one thing: "The Plainville Dogs." (There was (is? note to self: Ask Michael Vick.) a dog-racing establishment there.)
That would be Plainville, Mass, and I think there is indeed a dog track there. I'm not sure what they call it.
Second Look Books is the place I'm talking about. It's on RTE 1A.
Post a Comment