Friday, November 16, 2007

PLAY BALL!



(I DID THAT ON PURPOSE.)


It is 30.4 degrees out and Patrick and Junior are asleep downstairs at 5:52 a.m.

OK, so Junior and I were splitting a gimongously delicious breaded Tenderloin deluxe sandwich with fries at the Lagro Cafe, brought to us by an equally delicious young blond thing, when suddenly and without warning we got into a discussion with a couple of guys about old cemeteries. They told us where there was one in the woods, nearby. You've got to be kidding. They even gave us directions on how to get there. The stones, they said, are visible from the road. One old guy said he'd tried to read them once, but they were too worn.

So we eagerly gobbled up our hot Rhubarb pie slabs, served with aplomb by our hot little waitress with a generous scoop of yellow vanilla ice cream (on the pie) and took off at high speed in the Trans Am.

We named the place Possum Hollow Burial Ground and added it to the Wabash Cemetery list at Find-a-Grave. com--It consists of one large Tablet, and at least six smaller stones and a few monument footers--on top of a road cut, just off the road. Just scattered about in the woods.



Yeah, well you know we hid a cache somewheres in the vicinity, right? An easy ISQ for you.

Not so fast, oh wise seekers of the unknown. You'll have to work for this one. Check out the cache page for further details. FROM THE INBOX THIS MORNING:

Two Choices:

What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the worl d, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Fa ther watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizi ng that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first base man's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay , run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to se cond!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitchers intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-base man's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was chee red as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyber space, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to rec eive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things' So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.
*********************************************************************
BY THE WAY, BARRY BONDS WAS INDICTED YESTERDAY ON SEVERAL FEDERAL COUNTS OF PERJURY AND OBSTRUCTING JUSTICE FOR HIS TESTIMONY BEFORE A FEDERAL GRAND JURY ABOUT DRUG USE. BULLSHIT! CONVICTION CARRIES MANDATORY JAIL TIME--GUESS HE'LL BE SERVING WITH BILL CLINTON. OH, WAIT...



GO GATORS

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