Holy Cow!

WHILE I WILL ALWAYS BE A ST. LOUIS CARDINALS FAN, I will proclaim right here: there is no other baseball stadium; wait, make that any sports venue, anywhere, like the experience of Wrigley Field.

By the way, I'm not a Cardinals fan just because they are the most successful baseball franchise ever that don't wear pin-stopped uniforms. I am a fan because I grew up in Tulsa, and at the time, the Tulsa Oilers were a farm team for the Cardinals and all the Cards games were broadcast on KRMG radio in T-Town. I wrote about that in a post a while back called, Take Me Out To The Ballgame.

Back to Wrigley. Today was Opening Day for the Cubbies--their 100th at Wrigley!

That's a lot of Opening Days. No one knows better than Cubs fans that their team holds the record for the most consecutive seasons without winning a World Series. Still the place will be packed and rowdy. And every homerun ball hit in to the Wrigley stands by the opposing team will be hurled back on to field by the Cubs fan that caught. It's one of the things that makes Wrigley Wrigley.

The last time that our family attended a game at Wrigley was on a June 13th (my Amazing-Missus' birthday). It was one of Harry Caray's last years as the announcer for the Cubs. We looked forward to the 7th Inning Stretch when Harry would lean out of the press box and lead us in singing, "Take Me Out To The Ballgame..."

That night the Cubs and the Padres played through 14 innings. By that time, Harry had apparently enjoyed enough brewskies that I thought he might fall in to the seats below when he leaned out to lead us in another stanza during the 14th Inning Stretch. 

Fortunately for us, on that rare night in Wrigleyville we got to hear Harry exclaim at the end of the game: "Holy cow!" "Cubs win!"

Fans today were not so lucky. The Cubs lost to the Phillies 7-2. As I post this the Cards are playing that other Pennsylvania team. Go CARDS!

Can You See From Where You Are?

I HOPE YOU SAW the segment on 60 Minutes last Sunday night, reported by Wynton Marsalis. The segment was called The Virtuoso: Marcus Roberts. Here's a link to the video in case you missed it.

Marcus Roberts (CBS News)

The story begins:

Marcus Roberts lost his sight as a child, but gained incredible insight into American music -- inspiring a generation of jazz musicians. Marcus went blind when he was 5 years old. And soon began trying to make sense of life in the darkness. He was unusually curious, and even tore his toys apart just to find out how they worked. Roberts developed a powerful, analytical intelligence, capable of producing music that will move your mind as well as your body. The story of his genius begins with a precious gift from his parents: a piano. His mother Coretta is sightless too, blinded by glaucoma. She remembers the pain of having to leave school in the seventh grade because she couldn't see the blackboard.

Don't you marvel? Think of these people who are sightless, but have such keen insight. One of those people, Helen Keller, reminds us that there is something worse than being sightless:

It is a terrible thing to see and have no vision. -- Helen Keller

I couldn't resist adding this photo of our grand-girl Harper. I don't know what she is imagining seeing through her "binoculars" (upside-down, no less), but clearly, whatever it is, is magnificent.

As we age, we seem to lose our vision. I'm not talking about our eyesight, although that happens too. But let's face it; we do NOT see the things a young child or a blind jazz musician does.

My dad will be 90 soon. He has lost most of his eyesight, but it seems to me like he "sees" more than he ever has, and he has always been an insightful man. So maybe there's hope for me. Maybe I won't become visionless. I want to look through the binoculars, or the camera, or the lament of the Blues, or a quiet Saturday morning enjoying a good, strong cup of coffee and the company of my Amazing-Missus, and SEE something I've never seen before.

And ultimately, there is that promise. Remember the verse? “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.” 

Several years ago now, death came way too soon for my cousin, "Bobby." He always had a toughness and swagger than I admired as a little kid looking up to him. He seemed to see things I couldn't. At his memorial service, he wanted a certain song played. I've never heard it played at a funeral since. Maybe it was just apropos for Bobby. It goes like this:

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, 
I can see all obstacles in my way 
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind 
It’s gonna be a bright, bright 
Sun-Shiny day. 

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone 
All of the bad feelings have disappeared 
Here is the rainbow I’ve been praying for 
It’s gonna be a bright, bright 
Sun-Shiny day. 

It's Okay

I realize I'm a few weeks late in recognizing the birthday of this word, one which has been called the most enduring word of American descent. It is the word okay. Yes, okay; or OK. It is now 175 years old.

One of my favorite journalists, Mo Rocca, reporting on my favorite network news-magazine, CBS Sunday Morning, did a wonderful story on the history of the word. You can find the video here.

But why am I bringing it up now? Well, while Mo does acknowledge that in the history of the word OK is the story that it comes from the Choctaw word "Okeh" which means, "it is so," he doesn't talk about its significance for us who live in Oklahoma.

from the daily artifact project

Saturday, my Amazing-Missus and I were at a local nursery. We decide to replace some of the high-maintenance stuff in our landscape with not-high-maintenance stuff. A young horticulturist named Zack was assisting us. In the conversation we learned that Zack was born and raised in Southern California. As he was recommending trees and shrubs for us to consider, Zack said something about Oklahoma's very varied weather. I explained to him that these patterns are called "seasons". You have to explain these kinds of things to southern Californians.

We chose nandinas, a crepe myrtle, and a red bud tree. Zack said, "Those are very Okie selections." What he meant was these are things that know how to live and thrive in Oklahoma.

It struck me that what applies to plants also works for other living things--like people. Will Zack ever make it here? He'll probably survive, but he may not thrive. You don't seen many palm trees in these parts. And if you do, they're probably made of sheet metal.

Even among us Okies, different "species" thrive. We are a diverse group, a colorful tapestry. It's OKAY. Did you know that Oklahoma has more eco-regions than any other state? And we are as different as our ecology, our politics, our theology and cultural leanings. And I'm OK with that. 

We know we belong to the land
And the land we belong to is grand
And when we say
Yeow! A-YIP-I-O-EE-AY
Were only say-in "you're doing fine Oklahoma,
Oklahoma OK!
--Rodgers & Hammerstein

The Prom & Taxes

"March Madness" is near completion. Judging from the wailing and gnashing of teeth from people carrying their "brackets" through the halls at work, "mad" is apt.

The Scream. Edvard Munch

Does March mind being Mad? What if every month had an emotion, feeling or sentiment attached to it. The little month of February certainly does.

If I were King for a day, or the Pope, or Oprah... I would proclaim: ANGST APRIL!

The thought first hit me as my Amazing-Missus and I strolled the huckster-lined aisles of the OKC Home & Garden Show. I tried to make the occasion more romantic than it could ever be by imagining it is an old street market, but instead of vendors at their carts selling fruit, flowers or fish, they were proclaiming the virtues of vinyl siding, waterless cookware and something called a "Sham-Wow."

They were using marketing tricks older than Freud's "Pleasure Principle. I mentioned it a few blog posts back. The thought is, that for us mortals it all comes down to instinctively seeking pleasure and avoiding pain. Jeremy Bentham agreed, "Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure".

Few places can you see it side-by-side better than at this show. Littered throughout were displays of hot tubs and spas with posters depicting a viagra-gorged guy with at least two former Miss-Somethings, lounging joyously with glasses of wine sitting in built in cup holders. And then, in the very next display, storm shelters with large posters of bedraggled people combing through the wreckage of the Moore and El Reno tornados.

Few things motivate like the promise of pleasure and the potential in fear. Remember the videos of car wrecks they made us watch in Driver's Ed. I still have nightmares about the pictures that were in the textbook for the scuba diving class I took in college. And who can forget revival time at church when we were kids. They would entice us all to come for "Children's Night" with all-you-can-eat hot dogs. Then they would march us to the service where the evangelist would scare us into submission by "holding us over hell like one of those weenies on a stick."

So what is angst? From www.urbandictionary.com:

Angst, often confused with anxiety, is a transcendent emotion in that it combines the unbearable anguish of life with the hopes of overcoming this seemingly impossible situation. Without the important element of hope, the emotion is anxiety, not angst. Angst denotes the constant struggle one has with the burdens of life that weighs on the dispossessed and not knowing when the salvation will appear.

To me, April brings more angst than any other month. I'll prove it with two words: April Fifteenth! Angst is right for April because, in the eye of it's threatening storm, is the hopeful promise of new buds and fresh starts.

April has always been ominous. Seriously; what life event packs more angst (and we're talking teen angst now; the worst kind) than the high school prom. The whole thing: finding a date, that corsage, the expense, the tux, the picking her up, the dancing, did I mention the expense? Then there's the whole angst-filled after-prom thing. It's all sweaty pits and palms and potential-where does the relationship go from here.

How powerful is angst? just think how much of our music is dedicated to it. Here's a sample. And while this is not a prom scenario per se; well you get the point.

IT'S MY PARTY
By Lesley Gore

Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone
Judy left the same time
Why was he holding her hand
When he's supposed to be mine

It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you

Playin' my records, keep dancin' all night
Leave me alone for a while
'Till Johnny's dancin' with me
I've got no reason to smile

Judy and Johnny just walked through the door
Like a queen with her king
Oh what a birthday surprise
Judy's wearin' his ring

It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you 

HAPPY ANGST APRIL EVERYONE!