forty-seven octobers ago
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 . . .
Peace,
Milton
Love the poem! Wonderful memories.
MIlton, beautifully evocative. I love this.
Sitting here in my Red Sox shirt loving this.
Beautiful…. Go Red Sox!
Your thoughts and writings are cathartic for me, as my dad “let go” just a few days before yours. My heart thanks you.
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!
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.
Thanks, Betsey. Looking forward to New Year’s Eve.
Beautiful, Milton. I hope the fall is bringing lots of good memories of your Dad.