I added the 1956 Chicago White Sox Topps team card to my collection this week. I have an autographed baseball from that year and the same team photo clipped from a 1955 magazine. Sherm Lollar is in the back row next to Nellie Fox. The White Sox of 67-years later continue to underachieve with another lackluster home loss last night following the All Star break. Tim Anderson and Liam Hendriks were the Sox 2022 representatives as the American League won for the ninth straight time. The Pale Hose had finally gotten to the .500 mark on the season and within three games of first place Twins in the division before losing 8-2 to the second place Guardians. Now, the gap is 3.5 games going into today’s double header at Guaranteed Rate Stadium.
I have given up on the White Sox many times already this year. It’s frustrating to watch them fall behind early in games, leave so many potential runs on base, and make sloppy errors in an effort to catch up. Yosmani Grandal came back from the injured list to go a pitiful 0-3 in clutch situations. Luis Robert took his place on the DL with dizzy spells. Injuries and a lack of hustle have sadly become their trademark this season.
I was only 5-years old when the 1956 Sox took the field. Sherm Lollar hit .293 and had 11 home runs and 75 RBIs. It wasn’t until 1959 and the televised World Series games that he became my favorite player. Minnie Minoso led the 1956 team with a .316 batting average. Larry Doby was the home run leader with 24 on this team that finished 3rd in the American League with a record of 85-69. As far as the All Star game, Yogi Berra (2-2) of the Yankees won the starting position as catcher with Sherm (1-2) as his back-up. The NL won 7-3. I might have been a Mickey Mantle fan back then, but soon fell for #10 Sherman Lollar and have been following him ever since.
The Fantasticks were not fantastic. It’s the second straight local theatre performance that we’ve left at intermission. It also seems as if my computer is working against me, considering the loss of my entire post this morning, a couple of power shut-downs, and content freezing. I may have a virus – maybe my machine caught Pink Eye? I’m growing more and more impatient with trying to keep this site updated with fresh content. I just renewed the johnstonwrites.com site for two more years but I’m running out of things to write about. Poetry ideas have been few and far between. Maybe this 3,000 mile drive will be inspirational or at least get me out of a rut.
We leave in four more days with the first stop being Schnauzerville to drop off Tally before spending the night in Panama City. Tally will be away from us for her longest stint ever, but she will be with her puppy friends. I’m sure she’ll miss the dog park and hanging out with us by the dinner table. She probably will not get the quantity or variety of treats that we feed her. Definitely, Tally will miss sitting in my chair most of all. I’ll probably miss sitting there myself.
I did find a couple more Ban(n)ister DNA cousins this past week. They’ve been ceremoniously added to the Jerry Banister Family Tree in Ancestry. Two of the stops on this upcoming trip will be with DNA relatives – one on my birth mother’s side and the other on my bio-dad’s. I’m still trying to find clues as to my existence. I pulled out The Adopted Family book during the course of a sleepless night. It’s allegedly the book that the adoption agency gave to my parents to help them deal with the adjustment of having me in their home. It suggests that I was “special” because I was carefully selected rather than born into their family. It conveniently ignores the fact that there is no natural connection. I’m still trying to sort out the biology of family.
“Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full! One for the master, one for the dame, And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.”
This silly nursery rhyme was written in about 1744 and the author unknown. It came to me last night as I was loading the third bag of mulch in my trunk under the cover of darkness. It’s not the first time that I’ve “stolen” in this neighborhood. However, my wife and I felt justified that it was mulch that we were paying for anyway, so we are essentially taking what is ours. The home we live in came with a thin layer around the landscaping but not adequate enough to prevent weeds from growing. It would be another year before they planned to add more and we could not find a color match at local hardware stores. The only option is to steal!
All the homes in our edition have the same gold mulch, part of the uniformity maintained by the HOA. We’re allowed a maximum of six personal yard decorations while lighting, pavers, trees, and fountains require approval for any deviations from the neighborhood standard. Many residents view the association as Nazi-like and have adopted the philosophy that “forgiveness is better than permission” when it comes to adding any distinctive touches to “your” property. There is, of course, the natural fear that you could be made an example of in the process of modifying your home without approval.
No one really knows what the penalty for “stealing” mulch might be, so it’s done by all of us under the cover of darkness. I tend to think of it as redirecting distribution to my own lot rather than theft. We pay for it yet don’t seem to get enough coverage in our own beds and are forced to take matters into our own hands. There is that rush of adrenaline as I sneak bags of mulch in my trunk, trying to avoid anyone seeing me. It’s also satisfying to see the improvement around my own trees and bushes.
“Baa Baa Black Sheep” is apparently about the medieval wool tax, imposed in the 13th Century by King Edward I. Under the new rules, a third of the cost of a sack of wool went to him, another went to the church and the last to the farmer. Our similar battle with the bags of mulch is with the HOA governing body, and we feel we are entitled to take a bag here and there to maintain the proper upkeep of our lots. “Three Bags Full!”
Most of my daily retirement life is spent in front of the TV or immersed in the pages of a book. Yesterday, it was the conclusion of the series, Dark Winds, and the final chapters of the novel The Vanishing Half. However, today I will get off my butt and perhaps go to a movie or at least to a musical, The Fantasticks, at our local theater. In the back of my mind are the extensive preparations for our three week drive and thoughts of all the friends and family that we plan to meet along the way.
I’m kind of regretting that we’re not making a stop in my hometown. My sister is probably offended but we’re meeting a couple that we haven’t seen in years because of health problems. That detour will take us out of Indiana and into Illinois, putting us further away from my family. There was a time when stopping there was the whole purpose of the trip as several classes were planning 50th anniversary graduation ceremonies and many of my friends were headed home. As it turns out, our timing isn’t right for those events that are happening this week instead.
My sister and I are so different in our thinking that I’m afraid that an argument will break out at any time over religion or politics. I limit my contact with her to a phone call each week and try to avoid those topics. She’s also unvaccinated, an issue with my wife, that also prevented me from getting us together with cousins. We did not make the trip up to see her new place here in Florida, just a few hours away, so going out of our way to get back to my hometown was not a priority. However, I would like to see her kids, so I’m conflicted.
I did not get around to writing yesterday due to 10 hours of watching my granddaughter. I already wasn’t feeling well with an eyestrain-induced headache following a week of dealing with pink eye. We tried to take her to the resort pool but lightening cut that short. We did splash around in our pool for about an hour, fed her lunch, and baked cookies. She was then tired enough to watch TV for the rest of the afternoon. My son and his eldest daughter then arrived for burgers on the grill. We try to get together every Tuesday night but it usually puts me in a mood to worry about them.
Things are not easy. My son spent his day off work shuttling kids to summer volunteer work, the doctor, dermatologist, and dentist, driving hundreds of miles. His wife continues to focus on her education, and has been living with her folks for months, keeping two of the kids five days a week. It’s a mess but he’s still living in their house, hoping to be able to refinance it and consolidate bills to reduce his payments. He needs me to co-sign on the loan but I won’t, concerned that the inevitable divorce and health problems may leave us with payments we can’t afford. He could potentially bankrupt both of us, while I feel guilty about not having the money to bail him out.
I want to selfishly focus on my own happiness and security. I don’t want to spend all my retirement energy worrying about them. We’re leaving them behind for a three-week drive, but I can’t get excited about the trip while they continue to struggle. It’s the dilemma of being a parent – a love that should have no selfish constraints. I often worry about his happiness more than mine, but I’m also not willing to put my wife and I in a financial bind. This sounds like something I should be writing to Dear Abby.
All the factors seemed to be working against me this morning on run #4,950 – eye patch, heat, humidity, headache, and a malfunctioning GPS. A voice kept repeating “Pausing workout” and then “Resuming workout” to the point where it consumed a half-mile of recorded distance and in the end what should have been 3.1 miles showed only 2.6. It was annoying and the headache persisted but I completed the course, watered some plants, won for the 65th straight time at Wordle, swam a few laps in the pool, and started the laundry.
We’ll pick up my grandson at his mother’s house later this afternoon in Sarasota and take him to dinner. I’m also looking forward to watching tonight’s Home Run Derby and tomorrow night’s All Star Game. The White Sox finally came through in their series against the first place Twins, winning three of four and moving to within three games of the lead just behind the Guardians. Injuries continue to be an issue with both Luis Robert and Eloy Jimenez nursing problems. Liam Hendriks was finally named to the AL squad and will join teammate Tim Anderson. Former Hoosier, Cub, and Nationals Kyle Schwarber, now with the Phillies, is favored to win the Derby, but has fallen short in previous attempts.
I’m watching “Black Bird” on Apple TV, a Dennis Lehane production. A friend and I went to one of his book signings years ago, so he has become a favorite. He’s written A Drink Before The War, Shutter Island, Mystic River, and Gone Baby Gone, among others. I have a personally autographed copy of Shutter Island on my office shelves, but have only seen the movie. Other author autographed books in my library include those by Pat Conroy, Michael Connelly, Richard Price, Sue Grafton, and Kirk Eichenwald. A new episode of “Black Bird” will be released on Friday, so something to look forward to watching before we hit the road.
A blinking cursor is driving me nuts but I tried the suggested tutorials and still can’t get it to stop. I wish I had some computer skills, but instead I’m at the mercy of this machine. It flashes pink like my eye that has only shown marginal improvement after three days of medication. The biggest problem is light sensitivity, solved with an eye patch when I run. The temperature was actually pleasant this morning as day #4949 of The Streak came and passed. I still have my sights on that 5,000 day mark that will happen in September – if the creek don’t rise.
We’re headed to the movie theatre this afternoon for the 50th anniversary of Caberet starring Liza Minelli, Joel Gray, and Bob Fosse:
What good is sitting
Alone in your room?
Come hear the music play
Life is a cabaret, old chum
Come to the cabaret
Put down the knitting
The book and the broom
It’s time for a holiday
Life is a cabaret, old chum
Come to the cabaret
Come taste the wine
Come hear the band
Come blow your horn
Start celebrating
Right this way your table’s waiting
What goods permitting
Some prophet of doom?
To wipe every smile away
Life is a cabaret, old chum
So come to the cabaret
I used to have this girlfriend known as Elsie
With whom I shared for sordid rooms in Chelsea
She wasn’t what you’d call a blushing flower
As a matter of fact she rented by the hour
The day she died the neighbors came to snick her
Well, that is what comes from too much pills and liquor
But when I saw her laid out like a queen
She was the happiest corpse I’d ever seen I think of Elsie to this very day
I remember how she’d turned to me and say
“What good is sitting”
“All alone in your room?”
“Come hear the music play”
“Life is a cabaret, old chum”
“Come to the cabaret”
And as for me, huh
And as for me
I made my mind up back in Chelsea
When I go… I’m going like Elsie
Start by admitting
From cradle to tomb
It isn’t that long a stay
Life is a cabaret, old chum
It’s only a cabaret, old chum
And I love a cabaret…
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: John Kander / Fred Ebb
Cabaret lyrics © Trio Music Company, Alley Music Corp., Times Square Music Publications Company, Trio Music Company Inc., Trio Music Co., Inc.
It’s another hot, lazy Saturday with little on my plate. I’ll continue to stay inside, out of the sun, as I continue to nurse my red, itchy eye. This mysterious case of pink eye is getting better thanks to the antibiotic drops that my doctor prescribed. Yesterday, I decided to take a home Covid test to see if maybe there were some other issues involved. I tested negative but still don’t feel great, opting for just the minimum mile on my run this morning. I struggled to get out of bed, spent too much time talking with neighbors, and messed around tying to get my ear buds working. By the time I was done stalling, the outside temperatures rose another five degrees.
I booked our cruise shore excursions yesterday afternoon, another step in Alaska vacation planning. Spa and dining reservations aboard ship are next. There are just 66-days until the Viking Orion sets sail with 930 passengers, including my wife and I. It will be my longest time ever on a ship – three weeks. One of the challenges will be getting in my daily run. I’m currently on a pace to exceed a thousand miles a year but between flights, travel deadlines, and weather conditions it will be tough to maintain my 3.1 mile daily goal during the course of this cruise.
First up, however, is our 3,000 mile drive in two weeks. We have a tight schedule of people and places to adhere to during this multi-state mission. It will be a welcome disruption to our boring daily routine here in Florida. We’re at the mercy of weather, time, and potential mechanical problems trying to navigate the 16-cities we plan to visit over 22-days. There isn’t much room for flexibility, but by the time we get back home we’ll be grateful to embrace the boredom.
We began to stock up at Costco on Diet Coke, Gatorade, and water for our long drive north in a few weeks. We also confirmed lunch with old friends in Ludington, Michigan where they own a wedding venue on Lake Michigan. It will be our first trip back to that area since their wedding a few years before ours, nearly 25-years ago. I was married to someone else at the time but we all rode on a bus together up from Indianapolis. Relationships changed after that adventure and my first marriage ended after 27-years.
There will be many friendly reunions on this Midwestern loop. It starts in Tuscaloosa where I meet with my half-sister and the next day in Huntsville for lunch with her son. Another friend will join us in Nashville, Tennessee where we’ll get together with his eldest daughter and meet his grandkids. In Indianapolis, we’ll stay with my wife’s sister while a no-host event will bring together many former media acquaintances. I’ll also meet a DNA cousin for lunch while we’re there. Next, we’ll head to Decatur, Illinois for lunch and dinner with more friends we haven’t seen in years on the way to the Ludington reunion.
Once we get to the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, our ultimate destination, it will be just the two of us once again. Stops in Cleveland, Canton, and Asheville on the way back south will fulfill several bucket list items, including the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, NFL Hall of Fame, and the Biltmore Estate. The final stop will be all about relaxation for six days with Mother Marriott at Hilton Head’s Barony Beach Club. There we will have time to unwind and recap all our get togethers before driving home.
I feel like a pirate, with an patch over my right eye. It’s really just an oversized Bandaid but an eyepatch sounds so much sexier. Yo…Ho…Ho. I pick up some medication at the pharmacy this morning for my crusty, red peepers, a victim of pink eye. It’s very sensitive to light, so I found the patch very helpful during my run and swim this morning. I know someone else in the neighborhood that had this infection, but I was never around her or anyone else for that matter. I’m guessing that my much more socially active wife brought it home as a gift.
I would love to sit at home all day and recover but the cleaning people are coming. As a result, we are vacating the house and making our monthly trip to the Sarasota Costco. Last night, we also went there for gas on our way to the theatre. It saved about 10 bucks a tank so we’ll fill my car today. We also went to Der Dutchman for an Amish-style turkey noodle over mashed potatoes dinner, then only lasted up until the intermission of the two-person play “Maytag Virgin.” I’m not sure it would have been any better watching with two eyes.
Today is also our neighborhood Summerfest event and our hot dog lunch is prepaid. Bands and activities will surround the resort center but contagious me will stay clear of any crowds. Funds are low since we had an unexpected visit from the plumber yesterday afternoon after I discovered a leak in our back-flow system. Water was gushing out of the valve that required a $500 replacement. It’s the second month in a row after our home warranty had expired where unbudgeted repairs have been necessary. I’m concerned that I don’t have enough in our retirement funds to sustain living here for the twenty years we’ve planned. The market has taken another beating, while maintenance costs continue to escalate. I’ll keep my one remaining eye on the situation. It’s utter piracy!
