This is the time of year that tries the souls of Red Sox fans everywhere. You know the drill...get as many games up as possible early in the season because no matter what, it always comes down to those last Boston-NY series. Prepare to moan (like we all did on Friday night). I could feel the change in the wind that night after 34000 people in The Pahk and countless milllions of us expats watching their TV's all across the country all exhaled in one mighty sigh.
But Saturday would be different. Not the 'tomorrow's another day' kind of different. Saturday was Uncle Dick's birthday. He would have been 76, but he went to that big ballpark in the sky after a bout with pancreatic cancer 9 years ago, shortly after his birthday. I know that he watches over his beloved Red Sox and Patriots from the sky boxes. He never saw them win the World Series or Super Bowl, but he always had faith that they would. Someday. So I have to believe that he has passed into a zone where maybe, just maybe, he has a little more influence.
Uncle Dick was our 'fairy god uncle'. I know that sounds strange. But as a gang of seven kids growing up in a loving home where ends barely met, bachelor Uncle Dick was very special indeed. He took my brother and me to our first Red Sox game (and second, and third...), and the love affair with Fenway was ingrained early. He gave me my first transistor radio, which I snuck in to school, with the earphone wire in my sleeve so I could listen to the '67 Impossible Dream games that cruelly coincided with class.
For his last birthday I wrote the ditty below and emailed it up for my mom to read to him. He died less than 2 weeks later, and I almost didn't make it back for the funeral from New Orleans due to a little problem called Hurricane George (did I mention his middle name was George?). He wasn't perfect, I know as an adult, but as a kid, he was pretty much IT. So I love to remember him on his birthday. And I knew he would help out our guys if he possbly could. And he did. Ten zip. Take that Yankees. See ya on Sunday.
An Ode to Uncle Dick
On the Occasion of his 67th Birthday
At 5 AM I’m wide awake
With thoughts of you, before daybreak.
A little rhyme forms in my head
To say the things which should be said.
For it’s your birthday, so here’s your prize:
A glimpse of YOU from my nearsighted eyes.
An important branch on the family tree.
Our “fairy god uncle” would whisk us away,
One or two at a time, to be “Queen for a Day”.
An Ice Show, a ball game, a special dinner,
You always made me feel like a winner.
“How ’bout them Red Sox?” Will they play this fall?
“Why didn’t you catch that foul ball?”
(Remember the jerk behind us yell
At his wife, whose knee surely hurt like hell?)
The Oyster House, the horseradish story,
Bernadette Devlin in all her glory.
Mr. Parker in the cellar, Grandma’s teeth in a glass.
Charlie Brown,
Lots of fun watching MUNG BEANS grow!
Navassa, the place we all loved to let loose,
Nonie in her life jacket taking lots of abuse.
In HIS car we’d turn up the Rock ‘n Roll.
And who can forget his immortal James Brown?
“I feel good!” could be heard all over the town.
Other things always remind me of you.
Old Spice, Munchkins, Shrimp with Cocktail Sauce, too.
All these things that make you great.
I wish I could tell you in person, so badly
That I will always Love You Madly!
Happy Birthday!
Email from sister Annie:
