Have Glove Will Travel

It’s hard to play catch with a tree. So, my practice is unidirectional. I pick out a spot on our old elm and aim for it. Now, if I had a partner like my softball-playing daughter, she could lean, jump, or stretch to catch my not-quite-on-target throws. 

The tree stands tall in apparent disdain of my amateur attempts. The ball returns toward me about once for every three, okay, four, throws. Mostly, the trees spins the ball off at cockeyed angles, or, worse yet, deep into the bushes.

Today, I am the retriever in the family. Our dog, who in her prime was better at ball than I ever was, watches me with Chessie bemusement.

This weekend will be a ball, with a game, a reunion with dear friends, and a wedding. Before the couple exchanges their vows, they are planning a softball game. One team will be the folks who would sit on the left side, if the wedding were to be in a church, with the groom’s men and women on the other team.

Piper and the ball-eating bush

I’m in training. Well, as much as a 64-year-old, who just discovered there’s little cartilage left in her knees, can train. But, I love the game. I was my daughter’s first coach. That was fun – pitching for contact to seven-year-olds. Another good memory is when my now-husband came with me to an office picnic. He still tells the story of my first at-bat and all the men (likely from the airline’s marketing department) moving toward the infield. Meanwhile, Shirley, the tallest and most outspoken member of the legal department, motions them back toward the outfield and belts out, “She can hit!”

And, I could. My bat connected and my ball sailed over scheduling and pricing department heads.

Sweet.

Yet, there’s more to this weekend’s gathering than softball that has me questioning my abilities. I cannot count how many published authors will be there. Books, articles, essays, and more; genres and mediums that didn’t exist when I was their age. Prestigious outlets and imprints. Heck, I’m bringing my lefty glove and books to autograph.

This brings up a frequent question. Do I have a book in me? I know I can write. After all, I’ve ghosted speeches and op-ed articles (with respectable placements) and written numerous articles (okay, it’s easy to get a placement when you’re FAA Safety Briefing’s managing editor or you’re the one in charge of USAir Magazine). Yet, I did start my writing career with a personality profile in Northern Virginia People and a demanding editor who told me my early draft sounded like I was in love with my subject. I was not. I was in love with writing and the idea of being published.

But, as Kevin Costner’s character called the major leagues in “Bull Durham,” I’ve never been in “the show.” I haven’t written a book, much less published one.

Now that I’m retired and have the time, I wonder if I have a story to tell? A story worth telling.

I don’t know. 

Right now, I know I’m too busy. There are other things I want to try. My top priority is having something worth saying when I stand in front of a couple dozen students next semester in COMM 4101, Speechwriting, at Appalachian State University.

And, as readers of this blog may have noticed, I’m also working furiously to help Democrats get elected in North Carolina on Nov. 4.

Hey, I just got published this morning. The Hickory Daily Record published my letter to the editor about three Democrats running for local offices and why they deserve Hickory’s support.

That is satisfying. It’s almost like connecting and getting on base with a solid hit. I’ll take it. I’m still a player, even if my knees are a little creaky.