The Fall in Woodstock was like something outside of time. The night skies were infinitely deep, and electric with an overarching....what was it? Promise? The things (we thought) we would become?
Thanks, Rasc, delighted to have found it. (And that we are both still treading this Earth.) Still trying to teach writing skills to community college students, but the cumulative fatigue and burnout of 32 years of it are taking a toll.
With all that, haven't been doing much writing. But now that, as an unexpected byproduct of this expedition, I have acquired my own Substack, some possibilities are starting to germinate.
I could tell you about how in high school (late 60s) I convinced my friends that "Al Kaline" (baseball player) was my Uncle and fessed up only a few years ago that he wasn't. My Mother was in on the gag telling them her maiden name was Kaline.
Okay, Al Kaline, Detroit Tigers great. I can see why someone might pick him to adopt as a fictional family member, but you're not from Detroit or anywhere near it. So why Al Kaline and not, say, Ted Williams (although his skills were diminishing at that point) or Rico Petrocelli (one of my favorites from that team) or, more obviously, Carl Yastrzemski?
Here's something that's actually true. Some years ago, we hired a handyman to do some work around our house. We got to know him pretty well, so he started telling us about himself. His girlfriend was named Pat Musial, whose father was, guess who? Correctomundo, and that's why I have an autographed picture of Stan the Man Musial in my files.
Another guy came to work and we were talking baseball. He could tell I was a big Baseball fan. He said he would bring me a present. A few days later he gave me a picture of Babe Ruth Signed by his Grand mother. He was the Babes great Grandson. Once he told me I could see the resemblance. Said he didn't normally tell anyone of his lineage to the Babe.
When I was still working a contractor came in to do work. He was from Cuba and said Fidel Castro was one of his employees for a while. A good worker, he said!
The Fall in Woodstock was like something outside of time. The night skies were infinitely deep, and electric with an overarching....what was it? Promise? The things (we thought) we would become?
Very poetically put, Mike, and I'm not surprised. Are you writing? Thanks for finding my Substack stories!
Thanks, Rasc, delighted to have found it. (And that we are both still treading this Earth.) Still trying to teach writing skills to community college students, but the cumulative fatigue and burnout of 32 years of it are taking a toll.
With all that, haven't been doing much writing. But now that, as an unexpected byproduct of this expedition, I have acquired my own Substack, some possibilities are starting to germinate.
Your first comment, above, sounds like the beginning of a story to me.
https://mikemcnett.substack.com/?r=1lr2c8&utm_campaign=pub-share-checklist
Not a story, but a beginning.....
Just keep on writin'.
I'm not a writer but I could tell you some stories.
I've heard a few, and I know there are many more where they came from.
I could tell you about how in high school (late 60s) I convinced my friends that "Al Kaline" (baseball player) was my Uncle and fessed up only a few years ago that he wasn't. My Mother was in on the gag telling them her maiden name was Kaline.
Okay, Al Kaline, Detroit Tigers great. I can see why someone might pick him to adopt as a fictional family member, but you're not from Detroit or anywhere near it. So why Al Kaline and not, say, Ted Williams (although his skills were diminishing at that point) or Rico Petrocelli (one of my favorites from that team) or, more obviously, Carl Yastrzemski?
Here's something that's actually true. Some years ago, we hired a handyman to do some work around our house. We got to know him pretty well, so he started telling us about himself. His girlfriend was named Pat Musial, whose father was, guess who? Correctomundo, and that's why I have an autographed picture of Stan the Man Musial in my files.
Another guy came to work and we were talking baseball. He could tell I was a big Baseball fan. He said he would bring me a present. A few days later he gave me a picture of Babe Ruth Signed by his Grand mother. He was the Babes great Grandson. Once he told me I could see the resemblance. Said he didn't normally tell anyone of his lineage to the Babe.
So this guy's mother was the Babe's daughter? And the daughter signed her dad's picture? You still have it, right?
When I was still working a contractor came in to do work. He was from Cuba and said Fidel Castro was one of his employees for a while. A good worker, he said!
But no signed photo, I'm guessing. :)
Great stories again. Thanks!
Back atcha - thanks for reading! Next time we get together, whenever that is, I'd like to hear some of your childhood yarns.
Beautiful, Pop. My fav of the audio editions too.
Well, you heard this story a hundred times when you were a kid yourself, so here it is in print.
And thanks for the comment!
Very powerful story.
Thanks! Just a kid in a snowstorm.
Whoa! I just feel the story continue.... and the abuse goes on.
Thanks very much for reading this, John. Childhood - what a fractured kaleidoscope of experiences, huh?
Indeed.
Must have been Babes Grand daughter. I do still have it somewhere. I should have a pic of it. I will look for it.
When I was a youngster my Dad was stationed in Michigan for a few years so we grew to like the Tigers. At that time Al Kaline was the man.