I have fond memories of the College World Series or CWS for short. This dates back to living in Austin in 2009 and watching the Texas Longhorns make it to the final game in Omaha. They had won it in 2002 and 2005 under coach Augie Garrido, so expectations were high as we followed them throughout the season at nearby Disch-Falk Stadium. I can remember sitting in a bar with a friend for the final three games culminating with a disappointing 11-4 blowout loss to LSU. At that time, I thought it would be really cool to make the trip to Omaha.
The CWS tends to be more of a Southern and West Coast tradition, since the last Big Ten team to win it all was Ohio State in 1963. Indiana made the final 8 in 2013, adding to my interest in going to the event. When we moved to Oregon, I adopted the Oregon State Beavers who had won back-to-back titles in 2007 and 2008. In 2018, a good friend and I decided to make the trip to Omaha and were rewarded with a somewhat surprising Oregon State presence. (See Post #1707). It was a remarkable experience watching the Beavers ultimately win it all after moments of Arkansas triumph and obnoxious chants of Pig-Sooey! Because of some rain delays, I did not get to watch the championship game but listened to the final innings when I arrived back in Portland. Beaver catcher and tournament MVP, Adley Rutschman, was just called up be the Orioles a few weeks ago to make his Major League debut. It’s fun to follow these kids from college into the pros, as was also the case with Indiana’s Kyle Schwarber, Dansby Swanson of Vanderbilt, and Jackie Bradley, Jr. of South Carolina.
I’ve continued to follow the CWS games on TV every year, starting with the initial NCAA seeding. Indiana has not been back since, and once again the BIG will fail to have a presence. My Hoosiers were eliminated in the conference tourney by Iowa and never make the field of 64. Unfortunately, Oregon State games are often televised too late for me to watch on the East Coast. I was able to watch them beat Vanderbilt on Sunday afternoon and advance to the Super Regionals (Sweet 16). They will play the first game of a best of three series against Auburn on Saturday night starting at 10:30 p.m. my time. I will probably find out the results by monitoring my phone sometime in the middle of the night. Hopefully, they can get back to Omaha and the game times will be earlier. I will not be there this year, but the memories remain.
My eyelid surgery was cancelled for today, so I will have to wait for another appointment that could take months. I’m disappointed in the lack of communication from my doctor’s office. I’m having second doubts about having the procedure at all. It does alleviate any concerns about running tomorrow morning since they were discouraging any form of exercise following the surgery. I completed consecutive day #4,909 in 80-degree temperatures. I do like how the sun’s rays make the asphalt pavement sparkle like diamonds. The heat at this time of the year is what drives many of my neighbors to maintain second homes up north. As a result, it’s currently very quiet on our street.
We had juggled our schedules to accommodate for the surgery and now find our day to be completely open. It will be 50 days before we hit the road for our journey to Michigan’s Grand Hotel. We’ll schedule at least one neighborhood get together later this month and try to get to some more of the nearby tourist attractions to expand our knowledge of the area. Movies, Costco, and beach time will be the extent of our upcoming travel. We have a dinner reservation for my wife’s upcoming 66th birthday that happens to coincide with Father’s Day. We’d also like to see the Sistine Chapel exhibit in Sarasota and catch one of the circus performances at the Ringling Museum before our membership expires.
Our outdoor kitchen appliances are being delivered this week, so construction can begin on that project. Hopefully, we can get it done before we hit the upcoming vacation windows. Our grill will finally have a permanent home, so there will be no more need to secure it with the threat of storms. The venting, backsplash, countertops and cabinets will be installed by the same person who built our office and closet/pantry shelves. Home improvement continues!
I had written a few weeks ago that the White Sox had turned the corner with their home series victory over the Yankees. However, both the Red Sox and Blue Jays quickly proved me wrong. Then, they continued to play poor baseball, dropping the first game (Friday) of the series against the Tampa Bay Rays and were stuck on a four-game losing streak. An old radio friend and I were enjoying our annual ball park trek to see our beloved Sox on Sunday, hoping to finally claim a victory. We watched them helplessly lose last year and several times in Chicago back at the turn of the century, thinking there was some kind of curse preventing us from seeing them win while together. He proved that it wasn’t him (just us), by going with his wife on Saturday to watch them snap the current losing streak with a game two victory.
My son, a lifelong Cubs fan, joined us for the trip into St. Petersburg and Tropicana Stadium. The two of us old guys had our throwback jerseys on in anticipation of perhaps breaking the curse. On the way into the park, I was surprisingly accused by a young woman of grabbing her butt. I assured her that it was accidental, since she had cut in front of my awkward arm swing while the back of my hand grazed her behind. She looked incensed but I was there for baseball not groping other fans. I apologized for being so forward, and tried to keep my wandering hands to myself for the rest of the day.
The guy right in front of me grabbed a baseball while I was still sitting on my hands. It was as close to getting a game-used souvenir that I’ve ever come, but my hands did not react. I sat there envying his girlfriend who shed a few tears of joy when he presented her with the ball. It reminded me of being a teddy bear hero at the state fair.
The game looked promising after the Sox scored six runs in the first two innings, but the Rays eventually scored five and had us on the edge of our seats with Liam Hendricks on for the save. Yasmani Grandal was out of position with the numerous Sox injuries and failed to make a critical play at first base. It nearly caused the curse to continue, but fortunately did not become a deciding factor. Bad Hands!
The storm passed by relatively harmless, leaving several inches of much needed rain in its path. Areas to the south of us were hit harder, but the first storm of the new season is behind us. We went about the reverse drill this morning, putting everything back in its place before the next threat of turbulence. It’s just another lazy Saturday with clouds in the sky and the chance of more showers.
We had to turn down a dinner date with some neighbors next week because of the minor eye surgery that I will undergo that day. I’ll be put-under for only the third time in my life, including two colonoscopies, and am hoping that healing time will be quick. My sagging upper eyelids are apparently interfering with my vision capabilities, so the skin needs to be trimmed back. Next week, I’m back at the doctor for my third colonoscopy and another nap. These are the signs of aging.
I responded to a Facebook post this morning about my childhood grade school, Rice Elementary. I didn’t remember there being a morning and afternoon option, so I can’t remember which one I attended. All I can recall is the nap/cookie breaks, and getting my soft rug out of the cloakroom to spread on the linoleum floor of the classroom. I think it was Mrs. Ingram that was my teacher, probably just out of college. I went there through the fifth grade before transferring to Beardsley when we bought a new house and moved districts. Fortunately, I was reunited with most of my Rice friends the following year at North Side Junior High.
My Rice years included Indian Guides, a brief stint in the Boy Scouts, touch football, track, and basketball. I could walk to school from the house, unlike Beardsley and North Side where I took the bus to and from school. My ambition of being on the Safety Patrol was never accomplished. It was also difficult to continue in sports after moving schools because there was no connection with the coaches, along with the unfamiliarity with the other players, so basketball in particular was no longer a big part of my childhood life. However, the move was undoubtedly helpful in expanding my circle of friends and the ability to make new ones.
I’m making new friends again here in the neighborhood, just like at a new school. Most of my encounters are at parties and get-togethers since I’m not involved in organized activities like pickle ball, bocce, or the whiskey club, for example. Running in the morning is often a solitary experience, although I have connected with a few other like-minded exercisers. I’ve even participated in a couple of races where I’ve met some fellow runners. Most of the time, however, I hide in my office, content with being alone.
Just before we went to bed last night, storm warnings were issued. We began the tedious process of moving indoors all the outdoor potential projectiles that double as décor and patio furniture. Hanging and breakable items are safely stowed away, while cushions and yard ornaments are secured in the dining room. It will be a drill that we will practice many times during hurricane season, especially when we are traveling. We’re not really worried about the house and roof – it’s all steel reinforced concrete and tiles. We also have high-impact safety windows, so there’s no need to put up shutters. However, the lanai structure is comparatively fragile and the screens subject to tearing. The biggest section ripped in the last major storm, but has hopefully been properly repaired and therefore less vulnerable.
We’ve talked about installing drop-down steel curtains around the perimeter of the enclosed portion of our lanai. This would save a lot of hassle when it comes to protecting our patio furniture. A push of a button would lower them into position. However, they are very costly, especially considering the four large openings that need to be protected in our house. Some of our neighbors have them and generators, so they are much better prepared for the storm. The good news about hurricanes and tropical storms is that they can be tracked, so you often have days to get ready. We try to always be stocked up on food and water, but you never know what to expect. Plus, we’re looking at an “above normal” season.
At first, the nameless storm was going to hit this morning. However, conditions right now are very calm and I was able to get both my run and swim in without any problems. Now, we’re looking at mid-afternoon before the first signs of trouble. This is a tropical storm coming off the Yucatan Peninsula and headed towards Fort Myers. It’s apparently of greater concern than those coming from the Caribbean or Atlantic because the path to get to us in much shorter. They are also somewhat rare, so we’re all paying close attention to whether or not it gets a name or simply fades away anonymously.
Hopefully, it will just generate a lot of rain, something we need badly to fill the canals in our neighborhood. Currently, the water levels are about two feet low. High winds are the greater concern for us in this our second June-November Hurricane season while living here in Florida. Batten down the hatches – a storm is coming!
A woman passerby was mocking my running form this morning, making fun of my slow prance that’s barely faster than a walk. I must look somewhat ridiculous trying to maintain my balance with high steps and awkward arm movements. I’ve always been conscious of my form, especially when I was competitive. At this stage, it takes everything I have to keep moving forward – style be damned! I’m sure everyone thinks that I’m going to fall over like Laugh-In’s Artie Johnson on his trike, yet I somehow kept going on this day #4904. Five thousand consecutive days are within my sights, so sometime in September my streak will reach that milestone. Next week, I should move up another notch, #401, on the all time list of streak longevity.
Breakfast these days consists of Gatorade Zero and eighteen pills, including vitamins and supplements. I’m usually drained and soaked in sweat before I jump in the pool for a few laps after 3.1 miles in the heat. My chiropractor has prescribed pills to remove uric acid from my body and to stimulate my adrenal gland. These account for half of my daily medication. My doctor also has me on a combination of cholesterol and blood pressure regulators as part of my daily regimen. Advil and Tylenol help with the stiffness and soreness.
It takes a lot to keep this 70-year old antique together. However, I’m doing great compared to similar specimens. I see lots of canes, wheel chairs, walkers, and knee braces when I’m out and about in the morning. A little teasing about my awkward running form is a small price to pay. I was able to get in 95-plus miles this past month, despite the tendency for my GPS to unexpectedly shut down on occasion, shorting me a few miles. It happened again this morning, giving me credit for half the distance that I covered in my unorthodox prance.
We enjoyed a great Memorial Week with an overnight guest. It included two dinners out, Fireworks, a Race Party, a beach picnic, and Gourmet Hot Dogs. I had a conversation with a guy that attended the same Jefferson Airplane concert 52-years ago in East Lansing Michigan. Chicago Transit Authority, John Sebastian, and Rotary Connection with Minnie Riperton also played outdoors at Michigan State University’s College Field. Once again, I was grateful to have kept a concert log, enhancing my faint memories of this event while I attended nearby Albion College.
Memorial Weekends of my childhood were probably filled with family reunions and trips up to Corey Lake in Michigan, but my diaries do not go back that far. I can report that twenty-three years ago, just before my divorce was official, my soon to be (and current) second wife and I took our first trip together to New York City. We stood on top of the World Trade Center tower that would be destroyed by terrorists the following year. We also went to a Yankees game and several Broadway plays on this occasion.
Many of our following Memorial Weekends were spent with my wife’s mother back in Rochester, Indiana. or at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, or working in the yard. Fifteen years ago, we traveled to Florida and watched the race with my grandson. The next year we had moved to Austin, while soon after my first granddaughter was born. A year later we spent our Memorial Weekend at South Padre Island and the next two at Port Aransas, our favorite Texas beach areas. Nine years ago we were back home again in Indiana. However, in 2014, my wife’s niece got married at Hilton Head over Memorial Weekend, so the beach tradition continued but in North Carolina.
In 2015, we moved to Portland and spent our only Memorial Weekend apart. My wife went to Indy to be with her mother and I flew to Florida to be Disney Grandpa. Once we got settled in Portland, wine country or the Pacific Coast became the new Memorial Weekend traditions. In 2019, we ventured to Walla Walla for a different kind of wine tasting experience and despite Covid in 2020 joined friends in the Willamette Valley before we moved to Florida. These last two Florida Memorial Weekends have involved the nearby beaches. It’s been fun to look back over a lifetime of Memorial Memories.
What will life be like in the year 2045? I would be 93-years old and living on a very fixed income from Social Security and my pension. Savings would be long gone and my youngest grandchild 27. I might even have great grandchildren. Florida will probably still be my home even though it would most likely not be in this house. My wife would still be in her eighties and her girls in their sixties, starting to think about retirement. Neither of her kids will have children. My wife’s oldest daughter will still live in Portland, but her youngest will have moved several times. We’ll undoubtedly still have a dog, although Tally will have been long ago “replaced” with a schnauzer puppy that will have grown to be at least the same age that Tally is now. The chair that she sits in this morning will have worn out and been recycled.
I’d like to imagine that my running streak will be at 38-years and counting. What I can’t imagine is how slow my pace will be by then. By the time I get done running it will soon be the next day. By then, I should have added another 8400 posts to this blog, although I will have probably discontinued my payments to Go Daddy for publishing. What will I do in the next 23 years to make my life constructive? Will go back to work? Will I finally publish a book? What triumphs and tragedies will I have faced? Where all will I have traveled? Or, will I be dead and how will that happen?
The story of my life continues. It’s a Tuesday that feels like Monday or could be any day of the retirement week. For now, life remains nonconstructive with wasted hours watching series like Bosch Legacy, Outlander, Under the Banner of Heaven, and The Time Travelers Wife. The only reason I’m not in my chair right now is because Tally has claimed it for the day. Here’s to the Future!
I’ve been shirking my commitment to writing in retirement of late. I had promised myself to do at least one post a day and considering that I’ve now reached the 2,044 mark at five-and-a-half years of doing this blog, I’ve been more than true to myself. However, yesterday, I did not get time to do a daily post after my run and swim. We were having several people over to watch the Indy 500, our first real group party in this new Florida home. Over twenty people attended, including my son and grandkids who stopped by on the way to the water park. Many of the people in our neighborhood have left for their summer homes, earning them the distinction of being called “snowbirds.” Our original intent was to find other Hoosiers in our area to attend this brunch and sing “Back Home Again in Indiana” with us. Instead, we ended up with a hodgepodge of friends, most of which weren’t as interested in the race as I was. There were only five born and bred Hoosiers, counting my son.
I saw the Facebook posts of friends that were actually attending the race, but I was not necessarily envious. The days of getting up early and fighting the traffic and crowds are no longer appealing. I was glad to be home watching on TV from a thousand miles away. I saw all the festivities in air conditioned comfort, although the years of being in luxury suites with a parking and pit pass or being transported by helicopter were highlights of my racing experience. It was a great race, as I cheered on a friend’s son, Conor Daly, to an impressive sixth place finish.
For the first time in history, the red flag stopped the race with five laps to go after Jimmie Johnson’s crash. Race officials could have let the cars finish under yellow, but this is the ultimate let down for fans. They decided on a restart, allowing two laps to decide the race winner. “Fortunately for Marcus Ericsson, who was leading the race at the time of the red flag, he won the race anyway. It might have been a much different reaction had the red cost him an Indy 500 trophy.”
I liked the following driver quote in reaction to those who felt that the restart was not in the spirit of conservative speedway traditions: “Screw the purists, if that’s what they say,” said Santino Ferrucci, who finished 10th. “You don’t want to win this race under yellow. That’s a BS win, to me. I’m happy IndyCar did what they did. They made the right call.” It was an exciting Red Flag Finish!
I’m starting to get a little restless in retirement. At first, I liked the idea of a routine, but now the days are running together without much meaning. I wake up every morning dreading having to do a run, as if I have no choice. I wake up at the same time, as the morning light starts to filter into the bedroom. Tally then goes for her walk before I do some stretching, push-ups, and sit-ups. Before I know it, I’m out the door and pounding the pavement down the very same route most every day. I see the same people stuck in their own routines that become part of mine.
I come home in a sweat, and do my Wordle puzzles for the day, while eventually completing 7 Little Words. I’ll do fourteen laps in the pool to cool down and follow it up with a half-hour of writing, just like clock-work. Before I know it, I’m brushing my teeth, popping the same meds, in the shower shaving, and then eating lunch – all the same every single day. If it’s not for a doctor’s appointment, I rarely leave the house except to routinely walk Tally at noon and 9:30 pm before going to bed. Between times, she lounges in my office chair all day long with a similar bored look on her face, moving only for snacks and “yummy tummy” time. It’s like Groundhog Day, exactly the same routine every day of the week.
Sure, there are occasional slight variations. I might shorten my run as I did today because of too much to drink last night or skip the writing as I did yesterday. Most of the time, I’m on automatic pilot unless we travel or have company. Then, I actually have to think rather than go through the day like a retirement zombie! We had an overnight guest last night and went out for dinner for a little variety. Afterwards, we sat in the convertible with the top down near the downtown Venice bandshell and listened to the music. It wasn’t a very good performance, plus I was groggy from the beer and mojito. My wife and her friend took Tally for her nightcap walk, while I hit the sack. I woke up unmotivated, trying to figure out a way to break this cycle of retirement laziness that should be well-earned contentment. Going to the beach and tonight’s Patriotic Pops concert does not seem inspiring. Instead, I see it all as sadly boring. Been there…done that. Retirement – Ho Hum!
