I’ve just had the distinct pleasure of reconnecting with one of my dear friends from elementary – high school. He had just found out about a mutual friend of ours, named Chris, who died of an accidental drug overdose several years ago.
For those of you who know me well, what I am about to tell you will speak volumes. Ron was one of the key players on our Red Shirted Little League team sponsored by the Rock Creek Tavern. He is one of the autographed names on my stepfather’s baseball which is displayed in a place of honor in his office in Portland. But more importantly, the end of our childhoods spent on that West Union baseball diamond are etched into the fondest memories of my life. Ron even remembers when my father saw my first and last ballgame I’ve ever played, when I struck out in epic whiffing fashion while my father was trying to photograph me in the batter’s box. So in honor of our time together, and in memory of the teammates we lost, (Another of our teammates is in prison) I present the revised version of my story “Son of Abraham” in the next entry.
Bruce Cockburn once sang, “To be held in the heart of a friend is to be a king…” Ron is my friend from long ago, and it is so good to reconnect with him.
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