We wouldn't recognize each other if we met on the street. Still, news of his failing health makes me sad.
Reaching back through six decades, I see a handsome high school senior running down the basketball court. No one could catch him. No one could take the ball away from him. It swished through the net again and again, seldom touching the rim. Homefolks yelled approval from the bleachers.
The powerful swing of his bat connected cleanly with a baseball and he trotted leisurely around the bases as team mates cheered his home run.
As time went by, he patched flat tires, painted houses, swam in the ocean, walked the floor with crying babies, loaded trucks, mowed lawns and did a hundred things more.
Today, a man-no-longer-young is fighting to stay alive and I, from a distance so great it can't be measured in miles, am hoping with all my heart he can be well again.
email: MelindaGerner@yahoo.com
