I just took Bela for a walk at 8:30 p.m. The light is failing.
And two kids--one from our neighbor on the right and one from our neighbor on the left--were shooting baskets as the light failed.
I remember doing that over and over and over, when I was a kid.
My Dad had put a pipe in the ground that held a basket and back board, in the yard beside our apartment, 6 feet down from street level.
I shot baskets endlessly as the light failed all through three seasons of the year.
If I didn't have Bela with me I would have gone over and asked to take a shot.
I can shoot basketballs through a hoop with the best of them--even now, at my age.
I would have impressed those kids with a couple or three 17 footers.
They yanked me back to when I was their age--10, 11, 12, 13, 14, on and on--shooting hoops as the light fails.
I thank them for those memories. Really.
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About Me
- Under The Castor Oil Tree
- some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.
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