Note: A high school classmate of mine wrote this piece a few weeks ago while recovering from an illness, and it resonated with me on a variety of levels. So I asked her for permission to share it, and what better time to do so than on the first night of this year’s World Series? Thanks Stella.
“My grandparents, parents, and family members before me are now gone. It is a bit daunting to realize that I am now the oldest living person on my family tree.
Perhaps life is like a baseball game after all.
I feel like I am in the middle of the 9th inning.
I have been challenged, but made tougher, and hopefully wiser, by mental and physical injuries from many games played, though often a designee on the disabled list. As the passing of my dear aunt draws near at 99, I remember that she always loved and cheered and rooted for me no matter how I played the game.
My children, however, are still at bat and playing the game and experiencing all that is entailed. Running the bases. Vying for a better contract. Suffering the strike-outs. And occasionally a home run. On the other hand, my grandchildren are all at spring training, some in the minor leagues.
I may not have always been in first place. But there will be a time when my season ends, as they all do. The Umpire will shout “You’re Out!” However, I will have won the World Series, no matter my batting average, if, when my season ends, I remained loved by supportive fans who I have loved and supported during my game.”
Stella Mowery, fall, 2019
Peacefully Harsh 