Wildflower Writes

Is there anything more American than baseball? As I sit behind center field, awaiting the start of opening day for the 51st year of Osolo Little League, I’m taken back to some of the happiest moments of my childhood. My dad coached softball before any of his kids were old enough to play. In fact, both my sisters were named after young ladies he coached. We grew up entertaining ourselves by digging in the dirt, running the bases before games, and climbing the bleachers. When I was six, I was finally allowed to play T-ball. We played in jeans then. Even though I was probably just as bored as the other players, I wasn’t a grass picker or a butterfly chaser. I took the game seriously. I put my hands on my knees in a ready stance, and then ran all over the field when someone hit the ball. When it was my turn to bat, I hit the ball and ran as fast as I could. League designations were based on age and not ability then. I played T-ball for three years, and didn’t see a softball until I was nin...

“…and let the music we sing be the song of our hearts.” I don’t remember the exact words our choir director used, but in a brief moment of prayer before our Easter cantata, I realized why I sing in the choir. I’ve always loved to sing. Most kids do, I think. In my early years I was drawn to music, although it wasn’t a large part of my life. I didn’t study it or read a lot about it, although I did learn about Beethoven from Schroeder of the Peanuts comic. I learned song lyrics, although I rarely knew who sang what or what album it came from. Imagine my mom’s surprise when I came home from a sleep-over at nine years old singing, “Like a Virgin.” On the other hand, nothing seems to resonate with me more emotionally and spiritually than a song. There’s something about music that penetrates all defenses and makes its way to the very soul of a person. So I’ve always sang in the choir. I always wanted to be a part of making beautiful music, to take apart the notes, rhythms, and dynamics and ...