• fall classic

    by  • October 26, 2013 • baseball, family, grief, poetry • 9 Comments

    forty-seven octobers ago

    first pitch of the 1967 world series

    first pitch of the 1967 world series

    i was eleven

    dad was thirty-nine

    and we lived in a shotgun

    apartment for missionaries

    who had come home

    from the field . . .


    I didn’t know much

    about america, but

    I loved the boston red sox

    though we had never been

    to boston in the fall

    and I was not much

    of a baseball player . . .


    forty-seven octobers ago

    the sox made it to

    the world series — when they

    still played afternoon games

    and as I left for school

    dad said, “do you want to come

    home early and watch with me?”


    he wrote me a note for every

    afternoon game

    I walked home and

    we sat on the couch

    together while the red sox

    raised my hopes and

    broke my heart . . .


    the favorite memory

    of my childhood

    is crisp and alive

    in the autumn air

    and the leaves letting go

    like dad did this summer

    let’s go red sox . . .





    Blogging since December 2005


    9 Responses to fall classic

    1. Louise
      October 26, 2013 at 11:31 am

      Love the poem! Wonderful memories.

    2. October 26, 2013 at 2:01 pm

      MIlton, beautifully evocative. I love this.

    3. Jennifer Scoggin
      October 26, 2013 at 4:09 pm

      Sitting here in my Red Sox shirt loving this.

    4. Maria Henderson
      October 27, 2013 at 12:19 am

      Beautiful…. Go Red Sox!

    5. Kathy Beasley
      October 27, 2013 at 1:32 pm

      Your thoughts and writings are cathartic for me, as my dad “let go” just a few days before yours. My heart thanks you.

    6. susan row
      October 28, 2013 at 9:22 am

      This one brought tears down my cheeks. What special, special memories. I am glad that you’re able to re-visit and enjoy them this post-season. I’m cheering for the Red Sox FOR YOU!

    7. berelaxed
      October 28, 2013 at 9:27 am

      I love the poem as I sit here with eyes bleary from too many late night heart stopping games so far. I was a freshman in college in the fall of 1967 and I will never forget the distant but recognizable view World Series play at Fenway park from the roof of my dorm at Wheelock College,on the Riverway. Down we trooped after having a look and skipped classes to watch the action on the old B&W portable in the ‘smoker’, let’s hope this series ends better. xx Betsey

      Go Red Sox.

      • October 31, 2013 at 9:10 pm

        Thanks, Betsey. Looking forward to New Year’s Eve.

    8. October 30, 2013 at 9:49 am

      Beautiful, Milton. I hope the fall is bringing lots of good memories of your Dad.

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