A Wish Come True (A metaphor on life)

    "All I can tell you Jeremy is believe in yourself and don't ever give up."

    Jeremy reached up and grabbed the handlebars of a zip line going from the 32^nd street YMCA rooftop out to the middle of the baseball diamond. He could see ahead of him a man with a purple cape and mask carrying a bowling ball shaped bomb starting to run from the first floor entrance into the baseball field. There was a safety net below him and his entire family and friends from school standing in the street smiling and waving him on.

    "Come on buddy, you can do it!"

    "Help, Jeremy, Help!"

    "Only you can save us! You can do it!"

    Jeremy was a 10 year old boy and because of a disease he couldn't pronounce he wouldn't live past 11. You've never met a happier boy though, especially considering what he was going through. He loved school, but was forced to miss several weeks at a time in the hospital. He sang with his Church choir and has a crush on Hannah Montana, but doesn't like to talk about it.

    4 months ago the Fairy-God-Mother Company found out about Jeremy's situation and called his parents. They wanted to give Jeremy the chance to feel what it was like to have his dreams come true. His parents were thrilled that their son had this opportunity and Jeremy's dad sat down to talk with him about his dreams.

    "Would you like to go to Disney World, or meet someone famous? You know we could probably get Hannah Montana?" His Dad said with a big grin, sitting on the edge of Jeremy's bed.

    Jeremy blushed, "Dad! No!"

    "Okay then Son, what do you want?"

    Jeremy thought hard, he looked around his room at the sports wall paper, and his racecar bed. He looked at his stuffed animals and then his eye caught it: a 6-inch action figure of Batman. He was standing with his fists tight and on his hips, chest out and looking across the room proudly. Below Batman was his father's collection of original Batman comic books. He knew his Father loved Batman and whenever he read the comics he always imagined Bruce Wayne was really his Dad, and that late at night when he went to bed his Father would put on a cape and mask to fight his arch-nemesis the Joker.

    "I want to be Batman," he said and pointed at the action figure.

    His father's eyes immediately filled with tears and he felt tightness in his chest. That's exactly what he would've asked for he thought. He wished he could see what kind of man Jeremy would grow up to be but at that moment he knew that Jeremy wanted to be Batman to not only to fulfill a dream but to make his Dad proud.

    Time had passed and the company agreed to help organize a staged capture of an evil villain planning to bomb the local baseball field where Jeremy liked to play. The whole community got involved and Jeremy's entire family flew in to see the event. Jeremy was told to get dressed into a Batman costume that was made just for him. When he was done the doorbell rang and it was two police officers telling Jeremy "Batman" they need his help. After an exciting car chase in the front of a police cruiser with the siren on, he was sent inside the 32^nd street YMCA and told to check the roof. When he got to the roof his dad was standing there with the zip line handle bars and a big smile.

    Jeremy ran up and hugged his Dad. He was so happy he could just about burst. Still holding onto his Dad he looked over the side of the building and saw his whole family who let up a big cheer. Tears started to pour from his Dad's eyes but he was still smiling.

    "You look good son, are you ready to fly?" he choked on the last word to keep from crying more.

    "I love you Dad," was all Jeremy replied.

    His Dad stood up took in a deep breath and puffed out his chest and said, "All I can tell you Jeremy is believe in yourself and don't ever give up."

    Jeremy grabbed the handle bars and stood on the ledge, his Dad buckled him into the safety rope and the gentleman from the Fairy-God-Mother Corp checked the rigging then gave the thumbs up. The villain ran out of the downstairs doorway and into the baseball field.

    Jeremy was a little nervous but held extra tight to the handlebars and jumped.

    He began to fly towards the baseball field; he could feel his cape fly out behind him and the wind blow by his face. The roar of his family was hard to hear over the wind and in his mind there were no handlebars, Jeremy was Batman, flying across Gotham after the bad guys.

    Jeremy was welcomed at the baseball field by his mother and a huge hug. She reached down and handed him his big squirt gun and Jeremy pumped it full of pressure, ran up to the purple masked man and squirted him right in the chest. The purple villain fell in a heap on the pitcher's mound and the two police officers ran in and cuffed him.

    "We'll take it from here Batman."

    "Great work!"

    Just then the whole family including Jeremy's Dad ran up to hug him and lift them on their shoulders. One friend looked up at him and said, "Good job, Batman". He looked down with a big smile and said, "I'm not Batman, I'm Jeremy."

American Pasttime

Like a boy trying to sleep on Christmas Eve, the walk from the parking lot of the stadium to the front gates was always the epitome of excitement. You could smell the tailgater’s grills charring steaks and brats. The air was hot, but kids running around throwing baseballs and Frisbees didn’t care how sweaty they got. And above it all, on the horizon, a monolith of architecture grew. A shrine to the past time. The anticipation was building.

“You think we’ll win the pennant this year, Dad?”

“I hope so son. We’re right at .500 and we have a history of playing well the second half of the season.”

I wasn’t listening to his reply. In all honesty, I didn’t care, as deep down, my heart was like that of a Chicago Cubs fan. It didn’t matter the score of the game I was watching, as long as I was there.

As we traversed the parking lot the stadium grew bigger and bigger until you couldn’t appreciate its size anymore. We went up to will call to pick up our tickets and Dad let me hold them. The crisp, thick paper was not quite card board but something strong. I could feel the sharp edges of the ticket and strange urge to start folding corners overtook my hands. I think it was the excitement.

The massive gates read “First Base” twenty feet in the air, and like the gate keeper at OZ a smiling man with some grocery store type scanner pointed it at my already wrinkled ticket. He had this look on his face like he knew how excited I was. I wondered for a moment if there was any other mundane profession in the world as fulfilling as the ticket man at a ball park gate. The apex of anticipation culminates right in front of him, and he has the pleasure of watching the faces of thousands of eager fans feel this very moment.

The world changed on the other side of that gate. We were no longer in the real world. Even the air changed, as a cool breeze blew by. We were now in the shade. The ground was a pristine finished concrete. The smell of beer and hot dogs was the first sensation that hits you. But I didn’t have time for these thoughts. My eyes raced around in front of me looking for the sunlight. 'Where is it? I have to see the field.' It doesn’t matter how hungry or thirsty anyone is, the second they walk into a ball park they have to go look at the field.

The upper deck lowering down in front of me; a 4 foot sliver of bright brown and green sunlight was bursting below it. My heart jumped as the light hit my eyes, and I walked straight ahead. Dad was empathetic. Nothing needed to be said, we both knew the unspoken rule. You have to see the field.

As we approached the stairs, the light began to grow like curtains rising. Behold. The most beautiful garden; the perfect lawn; the dirt being watered by the conga line of water hose men; the players hurling passes to each other from one side of the outfield to the other. And above them rose the inside of the stadium. Beautiful arrays of brightly colored plastic seats, separated by a labyrinth of stairs, spread out in panoramic fashion, second only to the size of the West Texas sky.

My heart calmed and a sublime melancholy overcame me, a relaxation after the build up of excitement. After this point all else would be the same delightful tribute to American tradition we relish mid morning on Christmas day. We could all relax now and follow the pattern of a past time that has been passed down through the generations.