fall classic


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 . . .





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

  2. 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!

  3. 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.

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