Field of Dreams

In the mid 1980’s most of my spare time during the summers was spent doing one thing – softball. When I wasn’t playing I was practicing. And the time I devoted to my favorite pastime paid off. I played left field for our church team and had a blast doing it. I wasn’t the greatest, but I could hold my own and I could promise you that if you watched me play I was worth the price of admission (free). When I stepped to the plate the outfielders didn’t quake with fear. As a matter of fact, they usually moved in a step or two. But I knew how to find the gaps and every season I was good for an inside-the-park home run or two. My batting average, if you kept with such things (and I did), usually hovered around .650 to .750.

That was in the mid-80’s.

This past week I got a text. It read, “Kevin, we need you to come out of retirement, strap on the cleats, and grab your glove.” My reluctance to put this body rapidly approaching a half-century, through the tortures was overcome by the memories of grandeur. So I dusted off my glove, my cleats and my batting gloves and headed for the ball park.

The feel of the red dirt under my feet was all too familiar. I knew I needed to stretch before getting started but none of my teammates were so why should I? I asked the coach where he wanted me and he hesitantly said, 2nd base. With visions of Ryne Sandberg in my head I took a few tosses from the 1st baseman, handled them all cleanly, and prepared for my first inning in several years. A few batters into the opposing lineup and I had the first ball hit my way. I scooped it up, reached in the glove, pulled out the ball and made a fluid motion to first. At least that’s how it went in my mind. In all actuality the ball never made it to first as it danced out of my glove eluding my grasp when I tried to throw it. Silently I prayed a prayer I never prayed while I was in my twenties. “Please Lord, don’t let them hit it my way.”

In spite of my lack of prowess on the field, I knew that facing the pitcher, I was destined to relive my greatness. My first time up I was informed of the new rule, you start with a 1-1 count. This means I only get 2 strikes. No worries. So I stepped to the plate and faced what I assumed was the pitcher since all I saw was a blazing sun behind him. This gave me about a half second to see the ball. Within 20 seconds I was dragging my bat back to the dugout. The mighty Kevin had struck out. In softball. Swinging.

My next inning in the field brought only one ball hit my way. It was a hot grounder up the middle. I took a step to my right and dove for it. It was just out of reach for the outstretched glove. In my mind. Truth be told, I think I fell more than dove. But it looked good. In my mind.

My next at bat the sun had set low enough that I could get a better look at the ball. I think the pitcher saw the determination in my eyes. The next two pitches were curve balls. Yes, you can throw a curve ball in slow pitch softball. I swear I saw the ball move. Although it may have been forced by the tremendous wind created when I swung, and missed, two more times. Yes, Mighty Kevin had struck out again.
Recognizing my talents could be used better elsewhere I was called in to be the relief pitcher. In my mind. The next few innings were a breeze. Again probably caused by my swinging strikeout for the third time! In my defense, the umpire thought I was taller than I actually was and called a pitch a strike that was clearly over my head so I HAD to swing at a bad pitch.

The final inning saw my team staging a rally. We had put several runs on the board. And with two outs, the batter in front of me stepped to the plate. I must now publicly apologize to him as I prayed once again a prayer I had never prayed. “Dear Jesus, let him make the third out so I don’t have to bat again.” Dear Jesus heard my prayer as the sharp grounder was scooped up and he forced out a runner at second to end the game.

You would think that was the end of my tale. However, anyone over the age of 40 will tell you that with every new sporting event you try comes new muscle aches. I somehow managed to make it home and into bed. The next morning my wife played a cruel joke on me and moved the medicine cabinet down the block. In my mind. As I sit here today, because I can’t get up, I smell of menthol as I wrapped patches all over my body. In my attempt to play last night I think I have found the perfect way to lose weight as I am too sore to even chew. Yep, the pounds are dropping off of me as I type.

In my mind.

Snow White and the 8 Dwarves

Drama has been a part of my life for a number of years. It began with a bit part as one of about a dozen Uncle Sam’s in preschool, and travelled through being a cowboy in the second grade and one of the three kings from the orient are (I’ve looked on Google earth and still have no idea where Are is exactly). I’ve been a cranky old man, a dwarf, a Captain in the U.S. Army in Okinawa, and a fan at a Yankees’ game looking for tickets. In college I played an ant, a clown (type casting), and a harangued father. I’ve acted in, directed, and written more than my share of productions. Some turned out better than expected, while others were fortunate to make it through final dress rehearsal. I’ve also been privileged enough to see some incredible professionals such as Dame Judith Anderson at the end of her career. I sat in awe at Mystere and la Nouba as acrobats from Cirque de Sole performed so close to me that I could reach out and touch them - which I wouldn’t recommend doing. It seems they frown upon that sort of thing. Who knew? And, like many of you, I have viewed Middle and High School presentations that reminded me of my earlier days when I stood nervously on a stage hoping the audience wouldn’t see my knees quaking or hear my voice shaking. However, never, in my entire life, have I been so in awe and so entertained at a production than I was a few weeks ago. That was when I had the opportunity to watch a drama presentation by a class of special needs children at Oak Grove High School. With members of the Oak Grove Junior Civitan club assisting these students with their lines, these actors worked their way through the story of Snow White and the eight dwarves (seems that Disney got it wrong). Specially written dialogue was delivered with great timing. Dance moves like I have never seen before were performed with a grace that you would not think possible. Never before did woodland critters look so cute, a princess so lovely, or Prince Charming more, well, charming. The line, “I’ve got some bad news ” was much better than the way I had always heard the Magic Mirror speak to the evil queen. The eighth dwarf, Diva, was most appropriately named. And the kiss from the prince on Snow White’s forehead was the most romantic you will ever see on stage. With my apologies to the late Dame Judith Anderson, this was by far the greatest off-Broadway production ever. It made for an entertaining evening with a beautiful young date sitting to my right (yes, I had my wife’s approval), and made me resolve to clear my calendar for the next production. I highly recommend you also make plans to attend. I guarantee you will get your money’s worth. And, if you don’t, I will personally refund the price of admission. Kudos to the Special Needs class at Oak Grove. You’ve got this theater critic sold.

HHS 1982 Reunion

In helping plan the class reunion for the Hattiesburg High School class of 1982, I was sitting with a handful of my classmates a few weeks ago. We reminisced as we began to look through the 1982 yearbook. We talked about class events, teachers, and the things we remembered about our days there. The class of 1982 gave us soldiers and doctors, lawyers and businessmen, blue and white collar workers. Many of our graduates are working in states all over this great country of ours, while others remain loyal to (or stuck in) our hometown. Still others are employed overseas. Some of them, unfortunately, are no longer with us. While some went on to much greater things than we ever imagined, others fell a few yards short of their goals. Hattiesburg High School, in 1982, was a far different school than what you will find on Hutchison Ave. today. In 1982, HHS had several campuses. Only your junior and senior years were spent at Blair Center. There was no air-conditioning to speak of. The classrooms opened to breezeways rather than hallways. The dress code required long pants. This was probably a good thing because it was hard enough for this hot-blooded young American boy to concentrate. Focus would have been lost altogether had the girls been allowed to wear shorts. Especially since the shorts of the 1980’s really were shorts. In the winter the small heaters just below the windows gave out just enough heat to warm one side of your hands. Little time was spent in the breezeways. The coats stayed on inside the classes and many of the girls took notes wearing scarves and gloves. You sharpened your pencil often just because the sharpener was located near the heater. In high school we all have friends that we believe will be our friends forever. Many of these people we couldn’t imagine, at the ripe old age of 17, living without. College and life lead us in different directions and, without the technology we have today, we just lose touch with those we once held so dear. While life does try to replace them with new friends, it’s never quite the same as those we spent our formative years with. Some of the differences that may have polarized us back then have faded away. We no longer see each other as black or white, straight or gay, jock or nerd. Now we just see each other for who we truly are – “well-rounded” men who just want some of the long hair we had in the 80’s and, soccer moms who want to know if there is enough time before the reunion to visit their doctor for some, um, touching up. If you were a member of the HHS Class of 1982, this middle-aged, slightly overweight, bifocal wearing man would love to see you at the reunion. I promise I’ll print the name tags in really big font for us all to be able to see!

Anonymity

“Anonymity makes heroes of us all. “ – Anonymous. The above is not really a quote by anonymous or anyone else less famous. I made it up myself. It should be a famous quote though, because it rings with truth. And nowhere is this more obvious than at the many online forums. A few months ago the Hattiesburg American changed its policy of who could comment on an article. The rules were simple. Simply sign on using your Facebook account. Anyone can get a Facebook account. It costs nothing to register. You are already online if you were a habitual commenter anyway, what’s another step? I have noticed that the comments in the online forums have drastically declined in number since the new policy was adopted. The only thing that I can attribute it to is the lack of anonymity. In the past you simply signed in using your clever “handle” and commented to your heart’s content. Then, as long as your comment followed the guidelines, you posted your brilliance (or ignorance), for the entire world to see. “We can all be brave behind the mask of anonymity.” – Anonymous. Yeah, I made that one up as well. It is easy for us to make comments when our picture isn’t in the paper and people don’t know where we work or live. While I miss reading the comments on the variety of topics found in the opinion section, I do like the new format. Why not put a face to your comments? Why not show the world who you are when you disagree? Recent political debates have allowed us to see the candidates for who they really are. I believe, and I am probably showing my ignorance here for all to see, that none of the candidates are as good or as bad as they are made to seem during these debates. However, good or bad, all of their statements are very public. A politician has to have thick skin to handle the “slings and arrows” of the opposition. I, the hidden forum commenter, can say what I want behind the relative safety of my computer screens. Hardly seems fair. In the comic books I read as a child, as well as some of the graphic novels I read on occasion now, the superhero usually wears a mask. Some sort of disguise. When you think about it, maybe the real superheroes are the ones without the masks. “Don’t be afraid to show people the face behind your comments, even if you live to regret them later.” – Kevin Harrison.

I resolve...

It has been brought to my attention that I have failed to post a few articles on my blog as I usually do after the articles have been published. Below you will fins the article written for the first of January 2012. The slate is wiped clean. The resolutions have been made again. We are given the opportunity to resolve to do many of those things we resolved to do last year and failed. But 2011 brought challenges that prohibited our goals from being met. So, if we did not succeed in reaching our expectations, or at least our hopes, what did we learn from those experiences? The philosopher and poet George Santayana is quoted as saying, “Those that cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” 2011 was ripe with learning opportunities. I know what I have learned and I hope that you too have learned from mistakes made. Sometimes, if we are wise, we can learn from the mistakes of others so that we don’t have to make them ourselves. For example, in sports, can we all say we learned never to underestimate an opponent? Watching the Southern Miss versus UAB and Marshall football games proved that point to some respect. I think that Houston may have learned that lesson more than anyone. The economy may be showing signs of recovery. If we do come out of this recession soon, will we learn from our mistakes? I’m not talking about the government. I’m talking about taking personal responsibility. For instance, when gas prices rose to around $4.00 per gallon, what changes did you make in your driving habits? Did you keep those same changes when the prices dropped to around $3.00? In my business I have found that making wiser purchasing decisions allows me to remain open when other independent small businesses are closing all around me. Those same decisions hold true for my household expenses. We have learned that, if we don’t have the money for something, we don’t whip out the plastic with the idea of paying for it later. Becoming debt free in my home and my business was not enough for us. Remaining debt free has been equally important. If your 2011 included the loss of a loved-one, I hope you have learned that long life is not promised to any of us. Take no relationship for granted. Never pass up the opportunity to tell someone how much you love and appreciate them. I’ve also learned that just watching what I eat is not enough. Exercise is mandatory. Hopefully a combination of the two this next year will help me lose the 20 pounds I need to lose. My 2011 “lose 15 pounds” diet only added 5! This year brings a class reunion to the table that I am looking forward to attending. I’m no longer the skinny, mop-headed boy of yesteryear nor am I the man I had dreamed I would become. I have, however, found a happy medium. The most important lesson I can pass on this year to the youth of today is that life doesn’t come with a spell-check. If you made mistakes, don’t dwell on them. Learn from your history. Better yet, learn from mine.