Happy Father's Day
Today is Father's Day. Each year since 1967, it has meant less and less to me - and more and more. Less, because I draw further away from my father, who died on April 3, 1967; and more, because I cling to the memories of the days we had together and they mean more to me with each passing year. I have vague memories of the first time he threw me a baseball. I remember being on the side of our home - where my mother still resides - and for whatever reason, standing at the plate as a left-handed hitter and having him throw me a baseball. I think I did it because my favorite player, Johnny Callison, hit left-handed and threw right-handed. It didn't seem like that big a deal. He didn't try to change me or encourage me to "hit righty" like the other kids, and that would be the hallmark of our time together. Be yourself, kid. At some point in the early 1960s he bought a reel-to-reel tape recorder. A Webcor, if I remember. It was a 4-tra...