Nation of Immigrants

At a mall on a Saturday during the past month, the store greeter, a small Filipina, greets me as I walk to the American hamburger stand inside. While waiting in line with a group of African-American ladies, for a cup of Ethiopian coffee served by a latino, I noticed a Chinese lady sitting and reading her Chinese language newspaper. Sipping that said coffee in the mall listening to a Chaldean family, whose children were sporting the latest southern California T-shirts, shorts, sandals beach wear.  Later,  while out in the parking lot we walk amongst the imported Japanese and German cars parked there.

America, this nation of immigrants, must again become strong and remain that way. Let the free market survive.

Once again, "Notes from a (semi-)Clean Desk"

Some time last year I sat down and wrote these beginnings.  Prose poems, notes, essays... I don't know where they will go.  Just thought I would share them. 

1.
I arrive every morning at five minutes to six.  Usually, a half hour before dawn.  "Oh dark thirty".  Suits me just fine.  No traffic, quiet commute.

I pull into the parking lot and have the pick of my spots.  Most of my associates pick a spot in the parking structure, the garage close to the building.  I prefer a spot outside in the lot about a hundred yards from the entrance to the building.  I pull in and park in the corner right next to the six inch berm.  Stepping out of the car each day I step on the berm.  Everyday I have the same thought, "Oh, to be six inches taller."  What a different perspective on the world that would be. 

This one particular morning I followed the same routine.  But this morning I exited my car with a new confidence.  I stepped on the berm and notice how good I felt, spiritually.  Not just the confidence of the berm but I believe I am entering a new phase in my life.  New job, new responsibilities, new goals and challenges.  This is an amazing revelation.  

2.
Notes for future poems:

When I was young I wore a checkered cap.
I had successes and misfortunes,
I had a checkered past. 


Last night I dreamt of your wedding day, and how I wasn't there.
You wore white, and shoes, and had flowers in your hair. 



What can I do with these?  

Any ideas?


D.

Baseball, spring training, Dallas Green, Ken Caminiti, Gaylord Perry

Updated - December 1, 2022

Recently I had a conversation about baseball with a good friend.  It brought back some baseball memories. 

I grew up in New Orleans. New Orleans had a minor league team for awhile in the 60s (before my time there) and then again in the 1980s to present (after my time). I remember the newscasters talking about local players, but never as much as a hometown team would have warranted. 

I was a fan as a kid – played little league and all that, never any good. But I never had an allegiance until I move here to SD for the second time in 1981 (I lived here for six months in 1979). I remember, when I was working at Denny's, cooking breakfast for Gaylord Perry, who was on his way to spring training in 1979 (right after he won the Cy Young in 1978). Wish I had gotten his autograph. I was 20 and stupid. 

I learned about the inner workings of bb in the fall of 1980. I wanted to go fishing during the playoffs. My roommate wanted to wait until after the Phillies finished out their playoff game. Dallas Green was the manager and he made some strategic moves that, once explained to me, made me realize that this was the game and intellectual pursuit I was looking for. And for the next 18 years it was. Until Ken Caminiti died. And I realized that is WAS all about money. I may get back into it. I don’t know.

My friend invited me and my wife to Spring Training but I am still trying to catch up financially from my layoff.  And my wife isn’t really interested in that kind of trip.  My son is more involved with his band and getting out of school.  I may not get to spring training this year.   Maybe next season. We shall see. 

D.