Dining with Older Daughter at our favorite Indian buffet, followed by a Throwback Thursday Sounds game in the “best seats in the house” under a clear sky and a full moon on a pleasant spring evening: that’s the stuff of happiness, when you’re paying attention.
I’m not sure those were really the absolute best, but that’s what the public address announcer called them when they flashed us up on the giant guitar scoreboard with “Booster” the mascot, to “smile and wave” in payment for our upgrade.
That was the deal: swap our cheap spot on the grassy berm in left field for the pricey full-service seats behind the plate at club level, and all we had to do was smile and wave at the crowd for a few seconds. Easy. I felt a little bad for having earlier chided the mascot, when he greeted us at the gate, for not being “Ozzie” (his much-cooler predecessor). But I’m sure he’s (she’s?) used to it, especially on Thursdays when they try to conjure a sentimental mood with retro uniforms and cheaper beer.
Got to gather these simple throwback moments and not take them for granted, you never know when they’ll end. Whenever I sit with Older Daughter or her sister at the ballgame now I’m flooded with wonderful memories of doing the same at old Greer Stadium when they were small. Only yesterday, it seems.
Old Cicero was right, “the fruit of growing older is the memory of abundant blessings previously acquired.” With such an attitude, and a collection of gathered moments, the accumulation of years “sits light upon me, and not only is not burdensome, but is even happy.”
Roger Angell is a Cicero for our times, an elder statesman equally at home in the ballpark and in belles lettres. His This Old Man, both the eponymous essay and the book, belongs on the informal reading list I’ve been urging my Lifelong Learners to assemble. I’ll try not to forget to mention it on Monday.
Sounds 6, Sacramento 5.
6 am/5:39, 61/72/57, 7:49
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