Take Me Out to the Ballgame

I almost got involved in a soap opera at this evening's game between the Bradenton Marauders and the Palm Beach Cardinals.  It was Cancer Awareness Night and pink Marauders jerseys were up for auction.  I was bidding on Willy Garcia's jersey for Debbie L., his future mother-in-law, who lives in Beardstown, IL.  I had placed in a bid of $200 for her and, as the bidding was about to close, I went to check on her bid.  A friend of mine, Mike S., put up a $230 bid, so I upped the bid to $240.  A mutual friend, Keith, asked me what I was doing and I said I was bidding for Garcia’s future mother-in-law.  Keith got really incensed, telling me Garcia was not engaged to anyone—that he had a girlfriend he is living with here in Bradenton.

He then went over and told Mike what I had said.  Apparently the “girlfriend” was hovering near him and heard what Keith told Mike.  Perhaps she was in the group with Mike, Keith and their wives—I don’t know.  Anyway, Keith comes over to me, a bit pissed off telling me the “girlfriend” was in tears and that there was no one else in the picture.  He told me I had to come over and let her tell me the situation, to which I replied I was not going to get into Garcia’s domestic affairs and to please don’t kill the messenger.  I then called Debbie to tell her she had the winning bid.

A little bit later, I called Debbie and asked her what her daughter’s name was (Robin) and was she down here, living with Garcia.  She said no, that Robin lives in Pennsylvania.  She asked why I was inquiring and I told her there apparently is a situation down here involving Willy and another girl.  She asked me if the girl has long dark hair and is a bit on the chunky side, which I confirmed.  She told me the girl’s name is Heather and that she is a “cleat-chaser”.  Apparently Debbie and Robin had a confrontation with Heather when they were down here in June (when I first met Debbie).  In the meantime I could see Heather sitting, rather stoically, over near the Marauders dugout, apparently stunned over the entire episode.  Garcia hit a double and all Heather could do was sit there with her arms crossed and had no reaction whatsoever.

While I didn’t feel I owed Keith an explanation, I told another mutual friend, Pat, that if he wanted to relay the truth to Keith, he could feel free to do so.  He did and reported back to me that Keith was a bit taken aback by the situation.  No doubt Willy is in deep doo-doo this evening.  If so, that’s his problem.  One might say he made his own bed and now has to sleep in it (if not on the couch).

Archie...

Archie, a foundling Shih Tzu, came into Pam's and my life in November 2007.  Both she and I are quite interested in fostering and adopting special needs dogs.  Archie, although he was not a special needs doggy until the past few months, became a very special pet to the two of us.

We were helping out at Canine Christmas, an annual event involving various dog rescue groups that is held each November here in Bradenton.  While she was assisting the South Florida Shih Tzu Rescue, I was working at the snack bar and hardly saw her for a few hours.  As things were winding down and the snack bar was cleaned up, I headed over to help Pam and her friend, Dianne, load up Dianne's car.  Sitting nearby was a decrepit looking black and white Shih Tzu.  Pam asked me if we could pleeeeease take him home.  He had been brought by Underdog Rescue, which was located next to Dianne's shih tzu rescue.  To me it was love at first sight, and I replied yes.  Pam was thrilled at my agreeing to adopt him, as I had declined to adopt other dogs in the past.

We brought him home and started to care for him.  He had an eye inflamation at the time and, after taking him to our vet (and neighbor), Mary Smart, she referred him to an veterinary opthamologist who, as it turned out, studied under a very good friend of mine, Dick Dubielzig, at the University of Wisconsin School of Veterinary Medicine.  He underwent several treatments but whipped the infection and kept his sight.  He was such a joy to have as a part of our lives.

He was so laid back--in fact, the most laid back--dog we have ever had.  He took things one day at a time, never snapped at or bit anyone or any other of five the dogs we also care for.  He only barked when he wanted to get up on the bed and, occasionally, when he needed to go O-U-T to take care of business.  Usually, he'd either walk into the great room and park himself in front of me or would just go to the front door and let out a muted "woof!".  Archie was pretty good about going for walks in the morning but, over the past year, they became few and far between.  Finally the walks ended and he would only go so far as the yard.

Pam and I have had many pets throughout our marriage, but none compare to Archie.  I have often noted to folks that Archie was "...the neatest dog we've ever had".  I truly mean that.  Chloe is the friendliest--one who has never met a stranger--but Archie was in a class by himself.  He'd snuggle when he needed to, but the most favorite thing to do was get laid out on a body pillow at the end of the bed.  He claimed ownership of it when were visiting our best friend, Linda, in Miami a few years ago.  Linda had it on the guest bed and Archie got comfortable on it and refused to get off it.  Gracious as Linda was, she insisted we bring it home for him to lay on.  He and the other dogs loved laying on it so much, that I had to lay in a second one a couple years ago--the second one for the great room, where he spent much of his time.  Right now, one of our other foundlings, Bella, is curled up on top of it.

R.I.P. Archie.  You were a wonderful companion and we know you'll be waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge when our times come.

Opposition email re: Long Bar Pointe

Local developers are wanting to build a large, hoity toity waterfront project along one of the last remaining wild areas along the shore of Sarasota Bay here in Bradenton.  In fact, it is one of the few mangroves and breeding areas left along the west coast of Florida.  Being unable to attend a public hearing on Tuesday, next (Aug 6th), I send the following email to my own County Commissioner, John Chappie, as well as the two at-large commissioners.  Chappie called me upon receipt of the email, telling me it went to all commissioners and is now a part of the public record.  Thankfully, he is opposed to the development.  I am pleased to share it with my family, friends, and followers: 

 

Dear Commissioner Chappie:
 

I am writing you since I won't be able to attend Tuesday's county commission meeting in Palmetto, due to a doctor's appointment.  I wish to express my feelings on the proposed amendment to the Comprehensive Plan, an amendment submitted by the developers of Long Bar Pointe, that will forever destroy one of the last remaining natural, undeveloped areas along the south Florida Gulf coast—all for a  mega-sprawl complex that no one wants, but the developers.

Long Bar Pointe provides refugee for countless manatees, dolphins, seahorses, fish, and other species, as well as providing breeding and nursery areas for smaller fish.  Not only will such a development destroy this area, it will also have an adverse economic effect on those who depend on the Gulf for their livelihoods—commercial fishermen; charter boatmen; and just about anyone who depends on the tourist industry.  If there is no sea life to support these businesses the historic way of life, especially in Cortez, will be gone forever.  Even beyond the economic matters, environmental concerns such as  flooding, wind breaks, natural water filtration, and protection against aquifer depletion must also be considered.  With such a major development, these factors must also be addressed by many more people than Carlos Beruff or Larry Lieberman.

 

For these reasons, I plead with you to reject this self-serving amendment that benefits no one but Messrs. Beruff and Lieberman.

 

Sincerely,

 

David P. Hilsheimer

 

My Most Influential Teacher

As I think back over the teachers I had in high school and the professors I had in college, one truly stands out as having the most influence in my life.  As a teenager I tended to have a holier-than-thou attitude and felt my calling was to be a Methodist minister.  I idolized my folks' best friend and my baby sister's godfather, Ralph Haugh.  "Uncle Ralph", as he was known to our family, was a most congenial man and one who deserved adoration.

My family had moved to the Northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, DC when I was 10 and I quickly developed an appreciation of history.  It seems as though the only books I read were history books--the biography of George Washington being one I recall.  In fifth and sixth grades, we were always taking field trips, be it to Mt. Vernon or historic Fredericksburg, VA.  Mom and Dad were always taking us kids to various historical sites around the area, as well.

I entered tenth grade at Yorktown High School in Arlington and heard horror stories of the junior year American history teacher, David Turner.  Mr. Turner received the reputation of a hard taskmaster and one to be feared.  The last person I wanted as a history teacher was the dreaded Mr. Turner.  Guess who I got as my eleventh grade history teacher?  You got it--David L. Turner!  Gawd, did my eyes roll and a long sigh of regret let out when I saw he was to be my teacher.  Little did I know, he would turn out to change my life.

He was a proud graduate of Leland Stanford, Jr. University, or Stanford as we all know it.  He was an enticing teacher--one who kept you on your feet when he'd point to you and bark, "Why was that, Mr. Hilsheimer or Miss So-and-so?"  He made you think--something that served me well when I got to college.   I recall his describing the Battle of Gettysburg and the surrounding action.  It was like he had been there and witnessed the battle himself.  Keep in mind I was still planning on becoming a person of the cloth.  I was never one to volunteer anything, but just tried to be invisible, hoping he wouldn't turn around,  point a finger in my direction and put me on the spot.  One thing he did,  though, changed my life forever.

During the last half of the school year, everyone had been assigned to write a term paper.  My first choice was a  history of American railroading, a subject Mr. Turner said was much too broad and impossible for  a high school junior to consider.  I settled on the topic and title: "The Sharecropper During the Depression".  Due to plagerizing and term paper sales, the papers, once submitted, were not returned to the student.  Many's the time I wished I had it back  Anyway, I was quite graphic in my descriptions of what sharecroppers and their families had to endure.  In fact, I even quoted from the Depression era writer, Erskine Caldwell, telling of how babies had to suck on the teats of female dogs in order to get nutrition.  I knew I was skirting, if not going over, the line.  But what the heck?  This was a scholarly research paper, right?  I was prepared to catch it from Mr. Turner and would defend myself as best I could.

Yorktown HS had four wings--all one building-- that surrounded a large quad in the middle.  In  the week before finals, Mr Turner invited any who wished to participate to a review session to meet in the quad one evening.  As the session was winding down, he remarked about the term papers he had read and graded and made the observation that he had read one of the best term papers he had ever read in his career and was quite surprised at the scholarly level of its content.  Everyone started  looking around, wondering who he was talking about when Mr. Turner turned around, pointed at me, and said, "Mr. Hilsheimer over there!" and said he was very much surprised at my level of scholarly work.  I was completely flabergasted and tried to remain humble, something that was hard to do for an average teenager who was surrounded by A and B students, a few of which were National Merit Scholars.  That moment changed my life!

Afterwards, as I was trying to drift off to sleep on several occasions, I saw myself, not as a minister, but as a history teacher in the mold of Mr. Turner.  It finally dawned on me that, rather than majoring in religion with a view of becoming a Bible thumping preacher, I would major in history, primarily American, with a view toward teaching.  Although I never attained the goal of becoming a teacher (I could have taught in North Carolina, where I went to college at NC Wesleyan College), my love of American history, particularly the founding of the nation and presidential history, was the seed that was sowed and nurtured by Mr. Turner.  I only wish he knew what an effect he had on my life.  I never saw him  after graduation, my family having left the Northern Virginia area afterwards.  He passed away some years later, something I was sad to learn.  He will live in my heart forever and was a true mentor to me, although he never knew it.

Visits to Green Cathedrals

Besides the visits to current Major League ballparks, I have been fortunate to have visited many of the lost ballparks over my lifetime.

My first ballgame was between the Pirates and Redlegs (as they were known in the 1950s) at old Crosley Field in Cincinnati in 1953, the Redlegs winning 9-2. The following year my family moved to the Washington, DC area and I saw my first of many games at Griffith Stadium. Two games really stand out in my memory. The first one was in 1956 between the Senators and the Yankees. My favorite Senator, Jim Lemon, hit three homers off Whitey Ford and my favorite player, period, Mickey Mantle, hit his 48th homer of his Triple Crown season. In addition, President Eisenhower was at the game. How cool is that? The other game was the initial franchise game of the expansion Washington Senators (now the Texas Rangers)on April 10, 1961 and seeing Marty Keough getting the first hit in franchise history followed shortly thereafter by a Gene Woodling triple off the rightfield wall. The following year, 1962, saw the opening of D.C. Stadium, later renamed Robert F. Kennedy Stadium, at which I saw many a game, including the longest homer ever hit there--by Frank Howard, landing about halfway up in the upper centerfield stands.

In August 1964 I attended the New York World Fair. I was staying at a hotel near Shea Stadium and was able to take in a game between the Mets and the Braves. My folks had moved to Chicago so, in summers while going to college in North Carolina, I was able to attend several games at old Comiskey Park. I spent my career in Wisconsin, including 26 years in Madison. Consequently, I was able to take in numerous games at Milwaukee County Stadium. During a vacation trip to Seattle, I was able to take in a game at the old King Dome.

In addition to these old ballparks, I have been fortunate to be able to attend games at the current ballparks of Wrigley Field; Fenway Park; Miller Park in Milwaukee; Safeco Field in Seattle; Tropicana Field in St. Pete; and my latest one, Marlins Park in Miami. In addition to these, I was able to take a shortcut through Oriole Park at Camden Yard during the filming of "Major League II" in 1993.  Now being retired, I have had season tickets for the past four years to the Bradenton Marauders and their home, historic 90-year old McKechnie Field in Bradenton, FL.

The Worst Birthday Week of My Life

I celebrated my 69^th birthday a week ago on Sunday, St. Patrick’s Day, feeling optimistic that spring was almost here and baseball season would finally get underway.  I had been taking in Pittsburgh Pirates spring training games in anticipation of Opening Day on April 2^nd.  Unfortunately, the Pirates lost to the Damn Yankees that afternoon.  Little was I to know that was the first crack in the dam.  The deluge was yet to come.  That evening I talked with my brother, Gene, to see how things were going and he said Mom, who had been battling a kidney infection, was slipping a little bit, but there was no reason for concern.  I was planning on seeing her on Easter Sunday, taking her sister, Aunt Peggy, along with me.

Monday was uneventful for Pam and me.  My softball team had a bye, so I just enjoyed a relaxing day, running necessary errands and just vegging out.  All that changed on Tuesday.

My other softball team also had a bye and I was looking forward to another day of leisure.  That all changed around 9:30 when we got a call from our best friend, Linda’s, neighbor from across her street in Miami.  Lance told us that Linda had fallen and broken her kneecap the night before and was at North Shore Hospital in Miami Shores.  We got all the details he could give and told him we’d drop everything and come down to Miami later that day, after we made arrangements for some of our pets and got packed.  I made a few phone calls and we finally got underway around 2:30.  When we walked into Linda’s room around 7:00, she was so surprised to see us because our telling Lance we were coming down apparently didn’t register with him.

On Wednesday we got things set up at Linda’s and visited her in the hospital.  She was somewhat comfortable and looking forward to the surgery to repair her patella on Thursday.  Pam and I had some decisions to make.  I was scheduled to go to a regional Quaker gathering in Leesburg, FL which takes place the last week in March.  I still planned to go while Pam stayed with Linda.  However, Pam had tweaked her left knee while we were making preparations to depart for Miami, and it was giving her some problems.

Everything changed at 11:30 that evening when Gene, called to let me know Mom had died.  His exact words were, “We lost Mom.”  Although I was not shocked at her passing, I was surprised it happened so fast.  Later on, while talking with my sister, Margaret, she said the nurse had told her they fully expected her to last thru Easter.  I guess no one ever knows.  After a fitful three hours’ sleep, Pam and I were in a bit of a fog on Thursday, the day Linda was going to have her surgery.  The first thing I had to do, and the hardest thing I have ever had to do, was to call Aunt Peggy and tell her Mom had died.  Mom and Peggy were the only children of my grandparents, so it was quite hard on her. 

Linda was scheduled for surgery to repair the patella fracture at 2 PM and, when they came for her at 1 PM, we left and went back to Linda’s house.  Pam’s knee was becoming more and more painful and it was getting quite difficult for her to walk.  Since I had been planning on leaving Pam in Miami and return home before going to Southeastern Yearly Meeting (SEYM), I decided to cancel the gathering trip and remain in Miami.  However, since I only had packed meds to carry me through the end of the week, we decided I should return home, taking another of the dogs for boarding, pack for a longer stay in Miami and return immediately.

I left Linda’s early Friday morning, along with two of our dogs, Chloe and Frodo—Chloe for companionship and Frodo to join Archie and Bella at the vet’s office for the duration.  Upon reaching home, I called Linda’s to let them know I had arrived safely.  Linda had not yet returned home and Pam tearfully told me she was unable to walk because of the excruciating pain in her knee.  We had a walker at home which I had purchased for Pam to use year before last when she had suffered a compression fracture in her lower back.  I decided to bring it back to Miami for her to use.  After making arrangements to drop Frodo off at the vet’s for boarding, I did what I could to get things together for the trip back.

Leaving home early on Saturday, I arrived back at Linda’s around 11 AM.  Pam was in a lot of pain and, after getting settled back in, I took her to the ER at Aventura Medical Center to have her knee examined.  An x-ray was done and showed no fracture, but they could detect some deterioration to the cartilage.  The physician’s assistant who examined her said there could possibly be some meniscus damage and recommended she see an orthopedic surgeon for an MRI and full diagnosis.

Yes, it has been a challenging week.  I attended Meeting for Worship at the Miami Friends Meeting and that helped me quite a bit.  I was able to decompress a bit and shared my week with those present.  It felt a bit cathartic.  One of the women there, whom I did not know, came up to me at the rise of meeting and gave me a big hug.  That really felt welcoming and comforting.  We’ll be here in Miami for the foreseeable future and I expect to be worshiping with them for several more times.  In the meantime, onward and upward.

As a Quaker, I am as alarmed as anyone at the Newtown shootings as well as those that preceded that event.  As Clerk of the Sarasota Friends Meeting, I felt our meeting had a duty to make our voice heard in the current debate over whether gun control legislation should be enacted.  Quakers have a history of issuing resolutions, known as "Minutes", on matters of general concern.  With this in mind, I composed the following Minute, with some fine tuning by the Meeting's Peace and Social Concerns Committee, which was approved by the February 2013 Meeting for Worship with a Concern for Business:

Minute in Support of Gun Control

We, members and attenders of the Sarasota Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), after prayerful reflection and thought, feel it incumbent on us to call upon Congress and the President to enact legislation to halt the production and sale of weapons that can be used to injure, maim and kill innocent people in a single instance.

As Quakers, we believe that there is that of God in every person and in particular, we eschew any violence directed at one human being by another.  We recognize that such is an unfortunate part of everyday life.  However, the instances of mass shootings have focused attention on the problem that our society and our lawmakers must address.  From the University of Texas, to Columbine, to Virginia Tech, to Fort Hood, to Aurora, to Newtown, the absence of meaningful gun control laws have allowed this national epidemic to gain a foothold.  We urge Congress to eschew the pressure and monies they receive from those in opposition to gun control and pass meaningful legislation to reduce if not eliminate these types of instances.

We recommend the following practical steps:

• There must be universal background checks on all persons who wish to purchase a firearm, not only from licensed gun dealers, but also at gun shows and in sales between individuals.  Sellers who fail to do background checks should be held accountable for any damage, death, or injury caused by their purchaser;
• The manufacture, sale, and distribution of all assault-type weapons must be immediately and permanently banned;
• Explosive bullets such as those used by the Newtown shooter are banned by the Geneva Convention in international warfare but are legal in the U.S.  This type of ammunition should be banned;
• Likewise, any ammunition clip that holds more than a minimal number of bullets should be similarly banned;
• A fund must be established to aid local agencies in the buyback and destruction of guns, with particular emphasis on assault-type weapons.

We reject the proposal by some who feel the answer lies in the posting of armed guards in every school and the arming of all teachers.  Adding guns raises the odds in favor of violence and does nothing to address the problem—that of keeping particularly deadly weapons out of the hands of irresponsible individuals.

We believe these reforms are in accord with the original and clear intent of the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.