April 23, 2010 Baseball

My first recollection of sport was in 1961 when the Reds were battling the Dodgers for the National League pennant. About the only way that you could follow the games back then was on the radio. Seeing a game on TV was rare. One of the Reds announcers was Waite Hoyt who had pitched for the Yankees during the glory years with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

It as a time that you would sit by the radio while reading or playing board or card games. There were only two TV channels in Dayton and only black and white TV. You would actually pray for rain delays because Hoyt would begin to talk about his days with the Yankees. Certainly I was no fan of the Yankees but to hear him talk about what they did and how they did it made me fall in love with the sport.

It was a game perfectly suited for me because it was a game that wasn’t in a hurry and was all about strategy and numbers. God, I loved those numbers. I would memorize the backs of baseball cards and create my own All-Star teams with the stats from those cards. Because my parents owned a grocery store, I had a field day with packs of baseball cards. I actually collected one full set when it was nearly impossible to do. Baseball was my game.

It was the one game that I could play with any level of skill. I wasn’t very tall or very fast, but I knew the game and how to play it. The only problem was that I peeked just a little early, at the age of 12, in fact. I was an All-Star and was one of only three kids from the league to move up to the 13-15 year old team the next year. Little did I know that I would be able to count the number of hits I had left in my bat on two hands.

I was so sure that I would make it to the majors, it bothered me that because my birthday was in January, I would not be able to celebrate it during the season. When we are young, it is easy to dream. Despite my failure to become a major league baseball player, I persevered. I would listen to every game and read the Sporting News from cover to cover. I remember sitting in the living room on Thursday waiting for the mailman to come so I could run out to the mailbox and get the paper. It was just about baseball back then and the best source for baseball information.

As I grew older, I continued my love affair with the game, but only from the stands. I would eventually play a little slow pitch softball, but I didn’t get into the beer drinking that accompanied it, so it was back to the radio and Marty and Joe. It wasn’t until the boys were born, that I rekindled the love of being on the field. When Justin turned eight, I finally talked him into giving the game a shot.

It was love at first sight for Justin as he made a spectacular play in his first game to catch a ball that had bounced off of the shortstops chest and glove and made a bullet throw to first base to complete a double play. How he knew to do that, I have no idea because it wasn’t something that you practice.

That first game started a streak that is still going in which Julia and I watched the boys play baseball. I am sure that we have watched close to 1,000 games by now, but I still look forward to each game like it was the first.

Baseball is a game that I have always loved and will continue to love until my last days. Yet, it was just the other day that something I had never anticipated happened. Doug Hare, the father of Matt Hare, my fellow sufferer of Multiple Myeloma, contacted me and wanted to know if I would mind if the put my name on a poster to be shown at a baseball tournament that will be played in Columbus on May 5-7.

The tournament is called the Coaches Against Multiple Myeloma and you can find out more at http://www.baseballcoachesagainstmm.webs.com/

Over 125 teams have already signed up with proceeds going to Multiple Myeloma research at Ohio State University Hospital. It is a wonderful cause that you can help by sending a donation to:

Doug Hare - Central Ohio Youth Baseball League

PO Box 1425 - Pataskala, Ohio 43062

Make your checks payable to MMORE and it will be tax deductable.

I may not be able to play anymore but my love for the game hasn’t changed and my feeling about this cause has only strengthened. If you can, please help.

I received great news today with a sneak peak at my blood work-up. I have been feeling great and anticipated good news, but with cancer, you never know. When I got the fax, I was relieved to find that my cancer count is now at an all time low of 5.76 (normal being 0.57-2.63). That is down over half of a point from two months ago. In addition, my creatinine is down to 2.0 (normal 0.8-1.3) which would lead you to believe that my kidneys are better. Again, the best that I have had since all of this started. Keep the prayers coming, God is listening!

April 19, 2010 Family

It was a few weeks ago that I happen to be wasting some time on the internet and I stumbled upon a site that had deaths listed. I have for years tried to get a better understanding of my last name. My father had mentioned a number of times that it was shorted when my grandparents came to America from Chuhran to Churan. So I thought I would give that a shot on this site and as I have in other attempts found nothing. But while I was there, I started looking around at other family names and found that my Aunt Edna had died last year at the age of 88 while I was in the hospital.

Aunt Edna was not “officially” my aunt as she was married to my dad’s step brother, but I always considered her as an aunt, often visiting her in Florida when we would vacation there. Aunt Edna was a tiny little thing maxing out at somewhere under 5 feet tall. She was my last grasp on my parent’s generation. All of my aunts and uncles have now passed away. I feel like I have lost a part of my past.

The first thing that struck me when I saw that she had died was that it took me so long to find out. There are a few things that I am good at, but keeping in touch with friends and relatives is not one of them. I’ve tried to stay in touch with my friends in Columbus, but haven’t done a very good job. I have been even worse with my own relatives. If it wasn’t for Julia sending out seasonal cards, they probably would not have even known that we moved to Arizona. They probably should have disowned me from the family by now.

Because we were going back to Columbus this past weekend for family pictures with Julia’s family (I’ll have another blog entry on that topic), Julia asked me if there was anyone that I wanted to see while I was back in town, as we had a few non scheduled hours available. I wasn’t sure at first because there were so many people that I would have liked to have seen, I didn’t know where to draw the line. Then it hit me that this might be a good chance to see my relatives in Dayton.

Then I had to decide which side would I see. Lord knows you don’t mix sides of families except at weddings and funerals. To break precedent, I thought I would get crazy and invite both the Churan’s (although none of them actually have that last name) and the Pregon’s (and most of them don’t have that last name either.) To kill two birds with one stone, we would meet at my favorite pizza place, Marion’s.

On a side note, we ate very traditionally in our home when I was growing up, never having Chinese, German or Italian food, including pizza. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in high school that I ate pizza for the first time. I was given the task to order a dozen pizzas for my homeroom end of the year celebration. I was told to call Marion’s for the pizzas. I knew how to dial the phone, but I had no idea even what went on a pizza. Luckily the folks at Marion’s helped me out and I have had a soft spot in my heart for that place for the last 43 years.

Julia sent Easter cards to my cousins in Dayton and mentioned that we would be at Marion’s at 6 PM on April 16 if anyone wanted to stop by and say “hi.” It had been years since I had actually seen of my relatives, so I really didn’t know what to expect. Julia estimated that we might have as many as 20 people, so Marion’s set aside an area for us and reserved some tables.

We got there a little before 6 and my cousin Maggie and her husband Roger were there so we knew, at least, we would not be eating alone. Then more and more people started flowing in. I didn’t count, but we had to have over 60 people there. It was wonderful getting to see everyone again. Not only did my cousins show up, but so did their kids and they brought their kids. It was like a funeral without all of the sadness.

Sometimes we take our friends and relatives for granted as in many ways it is a part of our past. When you move away, it is easy to just worry about the here and now. Hopefully, our getting together will rekindle some relationships, not only for me but for everyone there. Friends come and go, but your relatives are there forever, no matter how much time and many miles keep you apart.

It was a great way to start off a pretty important week for me. This Thursday, I will have possibly my last blood draw at the Mayo Clinic. Because of insurance constraints, my coverage at the Mayo ends on June 4. I am hoping and praying that some type of miracle has happened and my cancer has continued to recede. Despite the fact that I have been given this burden, it has been a great year with the people at the Mayo and I will miss them. Hopefully, we can part with smiles on our faces.

April 2, 2010 Hurts So Good

My, what a difference a year makes. One year ago, I still was in the middle of my chemo and radiation treatments. I was still two months away from my transplant and my life was still up for grabs. All I could do was hope that the poisons that they were putting in my body would help me get another year out of my life.

Now I sit here feeling like a million dollars. (That is aside from the first cold I have had since I found out I have cancer. Another use for chemo, a cold eradicator.) In fact, I have been feeling so good that the last two weekends I ventured out into the yard and started replacing all of the plants that had died in the last year.

Doesn’t sound like much, but it is only now that I realize how much the transplant took out of me. I marvel how easy it is to deal with the steps at a movie theater. After the transplant when I actually ventured out to a theater at an off hour to stay away from people, I had to hang on to the handrail like an 85 year old man. I would take one step at a time for fear of falling. Now it is like a walk in the park.

Julia has done a great job with the yard while I have been laid up, but she has never been a planter. She has become very good at pruning and manicuring the plants, but I have always been the shovel man in the family. And now it was time to not only replace but also rearrange.

Last year, after a great deal of fighting with our lovely Home Owners Association, we agreed on a design for the yard. Not sure why they call it a home owners association, it is more like a hateful hall monitor, but that is another story. We had a friend of our pool guy put in the landscaping and we relied heavily on his knowledge of plants that will thrive here.

Needless to say, we have learned a bit and decided to make some changes. So between Julia, Justin and myself, we either moved or replaced at least 30 plants over the two weekends. By Sunday on both weekends, I was completely whipped. I would never have thought that five hours of real work could do me in.

By Monday morning, my body was in a severe state of rejection. I didn’t realize that I had that many muscles as each one of them was screaming at me for my actions of the previous two days. But in the end it was a good pain. It felt good to hurt from something other than medical procedures. I finally felt like I was back.