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April 11, 2009

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This story always makes me mad! What a jerk! I hope he got hit in the head with a beanball every game he played in for the rest of his life.

Beautiful baseball sculpture - I'm not even a baseball fan.

Dan Murano's photos have been a joy. And I want to take that donkey home - he can live in the barn with Black Jack and the sheep.

I grew up with a father who coached the local Catholic League baseball team. So at six I would help chalk the lines, my sister at 16 kept score, my brother at 15 played first base. In spring, summer and early fall we lived and breathed baseball. Then my daughters and son played Tball, Little League. The photos of them with the balls they caught! I still can't smell cut grass without seeing a baseball field. Imagine how I feel when I go to a park with Astroturf. At Squaw Valley, when I first went to the poetry community in 1998, there was Galway Kinnell running the baseball game and enforcing attendance. Lucille Clifton would be there in her Squaw Valley cap. So thank you Grace, for this great posting and I shall miss you here. Love the Kravitz and Murano photos, kudos!

My father always rooted for the Red Sox, who in those days, were the underdogs. They could be ahead by 5 runs in the eigth inning, and my father would always lament "That's not ahead enough." He was usually right.

Thank you for your stories and observations, baseball and otherwise. We will miss your blog very much. You were born to blog!

"not ahead enough".HOW WONDERFUL.I want that on my tombstone. I love you very much, Miss Schaeffer Brown's creator.

Marianne Moore read her poem "Baseball and Writing" at my NYC high school in the 1960s. She was frail and recited while seated in a chair, but got a standing ovation.

What a great memory to share with me. Thanks so much. I feel deeply when I think of all the great poets I saw when I was young.How lucky I was!

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