:
Loving the bums, another march on Washington, bonding with my kids, and the White Sox lose to the Orioles, 1983
The season was done and I was a sad boy, one ‘mizzable bastard,’ to use my dad’s expression. But I jumped into the cooling waves and was rejuvenated.
Crowd gathers at Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC, 1983. Photos by Michael James from his forthcoming book, Michael Gaylord James’ Pictures from the Long Haul.
from the Long Haul.]
Horses were my first love, followed by cowboys and Indians. Then came the Brooklyn Dodgers aka “the Bums,” and that was deep love. I loved all the Dodgers. Jackie Robinson was my hero. I attended my first Dodgers game in the late 1940’s, along with my dad and his advertising client, Barney Karlin of Castro Convertible Sofas. We sat close to third base; at the seventh inning stretch a woman in a babushka held up a Schaefer Beer sign and rang a bell. I ate many hot dogs and loved my first sauerkraut.
Continue reading
No comments:
Post a Comment