Childhood was taken for granted. As tiny humans, we were fed, clothed, housed and introduced to local happenings. We were not required to search out those things. Someone (presumably our parents or grandparents) guided us along with what they knew and passed it along. My childhood was filled with memories created by adults in my family and in my neighborhood.
During the hot summer days, it was cooler to sit outside on our patio rather than to battle the sweltering heat inside. Waiting and hoping the temperature would drop enough for us to get a good night’s sleep.
Many nights were spent huddled around a transistor radio broadcasting the baseball game. Of course, as a small child, I had no idea what they were talking about but the sounds of the game combined with the hum of crickets created a symphony at sunset. One could go from house to house in our neighborhood and find the dads sitting in their lawn chairs, watering lawns while listening to the game.
As we grew, we were taken to games and learned the love of baseball and the love for the Saint Louis Cardinals. It was (and still remains) a favorite pastime of mine.
In grade school and high school, I was fortunate enough to be friends with someone whose dad was one of the Vice Presidents of the Cardinals. This allowed me the luxury of sitting in the first row behind home plate. It was such a privilege to be invited to those games. I admit, that as an adult, I do not go all that often anymore but when I do, I still get that excited feeling when I walk thru the gates at the ballpark. There is a communal feeling with thousands of other people all there to see their team win. For those couple of hours, I am transformed. It never gets old for me. Let’s go Redbirds!