Love in the Time of Covid

“Tell me that the world's been spinning since the beginning,

And everything will be alright”

--P!nk

Their wedding was one of the first in a season of life that saw more rented tuxedos than games in a baseball season. My dear friends, Ed and Teri, threw a very memorable wedding. Not just because I was a groomsman, but also because their ceremony landed on the Saturday of the Final Four. Michigan’s Fab Five was playing Kentucky with hopes of returning to the national championship game. The bridesmaid with which I paired didn’t dance due to denominational restrictions, so I was able to spend much of the reception watching the game in the hotel cantina.

 

Michigan won in time for me to make it back on the dance floor for the garter toss.

 

Last month I met up with Ed and Teri at another wedding, that of their lovely daughter, Jerilyn. The ceremony was outside, on an ocean-view golf course in San Clemente. Upon arrival, Beautiful Karla and I quickly spotted the bride, off to the side, making last-minute gown and makeup adjustments. Heading to our seats, we found Teri, looking as calm and splendid as any mother of the bride could possibly be.

 

But where was Ed? Then the significance of the moment hit me like a five iron to the forehead. He had a job. He was going to be walking the bride down the aisle. He’s the first of my friends to have this honor. I had moved into a new wedding-attendance category. I wasn’t attending as a friend of the bride or groom; I was there as a friend of the … parents.

 

Mid-September will be the 18-month mark since our lives came to a screeching halt thanks to Covid-19. Here in sunny southern California, we’ve been locked down, opened, closed again, and reopened with restrictions. We were even granted a whole month without having to wear a mask indoors.

 

The effect the disease has had on lives around the globe has been profoundly tragic. The loss of life has been monumental. The economic impact has been equally staggering. Meanwhile, riots raged across the country from Seattle’s Capitol Hill to the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. Political tension ruled the land. And fires, floods, hurricanes, and earthquakes didn’t take a hiatus for the pandemic. Sometimes it seems as if the bad news is as consistent as the tides.

 

And yet the Earth kept spinning amid all the tragedy, and good things continued to happen. Beautiful things.

Sunrises and sunsets appeared in painted precision.

Planted seeds sprouted and bore fruit.

Somewhere, not here, a proportionate amount of rain nurtured the land.

Babies were born.

People ran errands for their neighbors.

The folks on our street met for church on the curb.

Medical professionals gave full measures of devotion and care for the sick.

I learned how to use Google Classroom.

And couples fell in love.

 

Couples like Kirk and Jerilyn.

 

Dating and relationships are seldom easy outside the scope of a pandemic. I couldn’t imagine what navigating young love was like in 2020. Kirk and Jerilyn met late in 2019 in Colorado. They struggled to find time to be together while juggling full college course loads and part-time jobs. In February 2020, their school sent everybody home. If Jerilyn were to return to California, it would mean their budding relationship would go the long-distance route.

 

Wanting to avoid a setback, they opted for almost the shortest-distance relationship as possible. Kirk moved home with his folks and Jerilyn settled in with Kirk’s sister, who lived two houses away. Then the world shutdown. The young couple, no longer trying to squeeze out a few precious hours to hang out, now had an abundance of time to get to know each other. They cooked, hiked, watched movies, and studied together.

 

Suddenly their relationship was able to grow at a super-sonic speed. All that time together gave them insights into each other that hadn’t been discovered yet. The lockdown also gave them time to rapidly discover their values and priorities. On the flip side, Covid also provided instant access to the sides of themselves that the other hadn’t seen before.

 

They initially planned on dating for three years, but time is short during a global pandemic. Three years became 10 months. Then came the challenge of planning a wedding during Covid. 

Would their venue of choice be available? Would they be able to keep their guest list intact? Ever-changing state regulations and mandates kept them guessing.

 

Thankfully, their wedding occurred as planned. It was gorgeous, joyous, and a real summer treat. Jerilyn, who I love like a niece, was radiant. It was wonderful to meet the ruggedly handsome Kirk. He was strong enough to pummel linebackers and tender enough to care for his bride’s heart. And since it was summer, there wasn’t a conflict with March Madness.

 

Oh, by the way, Cupid struck again in 2020. One of my most esteemed friends, after waiting for decades, found his one true love during Covid. His ceremony is next month. Beautiful Karla and I will be there, back in our places as guests of the groom.

 

Who knows what will be taking place on the Covid timeline in six weeks when his wedding day arrives. We might be reading about the next Greek-lettered variant. I might be teaching from home again. But on that night in October, I’ll be remembering that the earth is still spinning, the sun is still shinning, beautiful things are still happening, and my Father in heaven is still sovereign.

 

And I’ll do my best to not check any baseball scores. 

Teaching My Way Through the Baseball Dictionary

Today wraps up the most arduous school year of my career. I started the year remotely and slogged through the (sled-)dog days of winter until mid-April when the powers that be proclaimed all was safe to meet in person. Two-thirds of my students returned, but there are seven who spent their entire third-grade year at home. One bright spot of the fall and the spring was being able to watch baseball in my upstairs guestroom/classroom while preparing the next day’s lessons. Spring also brings my annual list of terms from the Dickson Baseball Dictionary. So, in honor of teaching and learning, I bring you the A + educational highlights from my beloved reference book. 

 

A is for Answer the Bell – For a relief pitcher to be warmed and ready to pitch when summoned by the manager. Also, an appropriate term for how teachers all over the world responded to the challenges of the pandemic.

 

B is for Book-crazed – Being overly obsessed with baseball statistics. Or a teacher’s favorite kind of student. 

 

D is for Doughnut – A common name for the heavy, round bat weight used for warming up in the on-deck circle. Or another name for the little zeroes I had in my gradebook for missing assignments. 

 

E is for Eraser Rate – A statistic marking a team’s success at catching opposing base stealers. Also, the speed at which a teacher can clean the whiteboard. I once strained my rotator cuff trying to increase my eraser rate.

 

G is for Go the Distance – To pitch a complete game. Or when a teacher can go the whole school year without taking a sick day. It took a global pandemic for me to go a year without taking a day off.

 

H is for Happy Feet – The moving feet of a batter who starts toward first base while contacting the pitch. Also, the tell-tale sign of a student who needs to use the restroom. 

 

I is for Intestinal fortitude – Courage. Not to be confused with gastrointestinal fortitude, which is what all teachers must develop in the early years on the job while learning to limit bathroom breaks to recess and lunch.

 

J is for Juiced Era – Synonym of Steroid Era. Or the name of the current period in my school district since we started serving all students breakfast in the classroom. 

 

K is for Kickball – A variation of baseball, popular during elementary school recess. Also played by adults, including yours truly. There’s not a school day rough enough that a lively game of kickball can’t cure. 

 

L is for Laminate – To hit the ball extremely hard. Also, the process of turning a piece of paper into a reusable, plastic-wrapped poster, that will survive into eternity. 

 

M is for M is for Mental Error – A mistake when a player (or a student) is preoccupied, forgetful, or distracted. Many a mental error has caused every teacher to pull their hair out while grading papers. 

 

N is for No Trade Clause – A clause in a player’s contract that permits him to be traded only with his consent. Not to be confused with dependent clauses, independent clauses, and never start your sentence with becauses. 

 

O is for On Paper – Said of a team that should perform well without injuries or slumps, judging by the names listed on the roster. Thanks to Google Classroom and a recent pandemic, “on paper” is no longer the preferred technique of writing an essay. 

 

P is for Pythagorean Method – A formula for predicting the expected winning percentage for a team in a given season. Third-grade math is getting so hard under common core that for some students it feels like Euclidean geometry.

 

Q is for Question Mark – A player whose immediate future is uncertain because of injury, illness, or any of several other problems. Also, the outlook for how this fall is going to look regarding masks in the classroom.  

 

R is for Run On – To attempt to stretch a hit into extra bases. Also, the name for a response from a student to a simple question that develops into a story about their breakfast, their dog, their grandma, unicorns, mermaids, and their favorite YouTuber. 

 

S is for Strike Zone – The imaginary box over home plate that defines a called strike. Also, the area of pavement in front of my school where I walked the picket lines in the 2019 labor dispute.

 

U is for Union hours – Nine innings. “I only work union hours,” said no teacher ever. To quote a meme I saw recently: “teachers work before work, so we have work to do at work. Then because there’s not enough time at work to do all our work, we have work after work to catch up on all the work we didn’t do while at work.” 

 

V is for Veteran – an experienced professional baseball player. Teaching is so complex and ever-changing that by the time you finally feel like a veteran, it’s time to retire. 

 

W is for Wheeze Kids – Nickname for the 1983 Philadelphia Phillies, who won the National League pennant with a roster that included several older players. Also, children with asthma whom teachers must monitor closely during PE. 

 

Y is for Yakkers – Mean, sharp-breaking curveballs. Also, those lovely children that constantly talk and chatter all … day … l … o … n … g. 

This tough year did have some silver linings. For me they were learning how to bring more technology into the pedagogical process and collaborating with colleagues to help each other survive, learn, and stay sane together. It was a year of isolation, but with the support and connectedness of friends old and new, I survived. I just hope we never have to answer the Covid-19 bell ever again. 

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

The author social distancing
as a kid in Tiger Stadium.

 Say good-bye to Opening Day in July. 

Opening Day is back where it belongs, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Following 2020’s shortened season, a full schedule of baseball starts today. No more cardboard cutouts. No more piped-in sound effects. Covid robbed us of in-person baseball viewing like Mike Trout steals homers. Last year was the first season since second grade that I didn’t attend at least one game. 

 

Baseball is back and I can’t wait to get to the ballpark.

 

Nearly all 30 teams are welcoming some, if not all, fans this year. Numbers range from only 1,000 fans in Detroit to a full-capacity stadium in Texas. The local Dodgers and Angels are opening at 20 percent capacity. Imagine a game with only 8,500 fans. Having my own row with nobody sitting behind me or in front of me sounds heavenly. 

 

I much prefer baseball on TV but getting to a game in person is still special and it’s something I like to do at least once a year. It’s an annual pilgrimage. It’s a real-time flashback to one’s youth. It’s paying homage to sitting in the stands with your dad or your best high school friend. It’s a few hours of uninterrupted conversational catching up with a buddy. 

 

It’s an annual invitation to become a kid again.

 

Televised baseball is great, but it doesn’t give you the ballpark experience. The smell of the hotdogs and the popcorn. The beauty of the manicured grass so green you’d think you were Ireland. I like watching the grounds crew prep the field and the players warm up. I like to rise when the home team takes the field and remain at attention for the national anthem. Sitting under the lights or in the sun watching nine defenders move in synchronized movement is wondrous. 

 

It takes multiple TV replays to see everything that happens after one pitch. The crack of the bat is like a shot from a starter’s pistol. It signals the simultaneous movement of nearly a dozen participants. The ball skips into the corner, and when it does, my behind lifts off the seat. I begin to track the action unfolding gloriously before me. The batter become a sprinter, rounding first with pin-point precision. The right fielder retrieves the ball, turns, and throws. A runner from first rounds second and chugs for third. The third base coach windmills him toward home. The cutoff man catches and whirls in one fantastically fluid movement. The pitcher backs up home. The catcher readies to receive the ball and then tries to make a sweep tag. I leap to my feet when the gloved fingers of the runner slide smoothly across the plate. It lasts a few seconds, but it’s as beautiful as a ballet. And it’s worth the price of admission.

 

Especially if you’re talking 1980s prices. Which is when my journeys to the ballpark increased in earnest. Dad ushered me into a lifetime of live baseball, but in the 80s I was old enough to go on my own. I lived in Detroit and the Tigers were competitive. A group of friends would drive Motown’s sunken Lodge Freeway to downtown Detroit. Tiger Stadium didn’t have a parking lot. We’d park on a nearby side street to avoid paying massive city-lot prices. Within seconds a neighborhood boy would arrive on his banana-seated bike, offering to watch our car for a buck. We’d buy peanuts for another buck from a vendor before crossing the footbridge that spanned the freeway. Then we’d feel the heat of the summer sun radiating off the white-washed walls of my once beloved stadium.

 

Ticket prices to sit in the bleachers were cheaper than a movie. Once inside, the bowels of Tiger Stadium were dank and gloomy. We’d walk up a concrete ramp to the upper deck. We’d step in the footprints of decades of Detroiters who watched the Tigers battle American League stars from Lou Gehrig to Cal Ripken, Jr. But then we’d emerge from the darkness, into the kingdom of light that the bleachers provided. Sometimes we could spread out. At others, we’d sit shoulder to shoulder. At some point, the sun would set, and the lights would spark to life. We’d watch Tiger heroes Kirk Gibson, Alan Trammell, Lou Whitaker, and Jack Morris. We’d hope for a Tigers’ win and see opponents do the unforgettable. I remember Angels’ rookie Wally Joyner hit homer off the facing above the rightfield upper deck. Then there’s a Jose Conseco blast that nearly struck the 125-foot flagpole (Flagpole History) that stood before the bleachers like a ship’s mast. 

 

The flagpole was actually in play.

Those summer nights slipped past like a pennant waving in the breeze. Back then, none of us knew what our lives held in store. No did we know that we were creating memories, as the line from Field of Dreams goes, “So thick that they’ll have to brush them away from their faces.” 

 

I’ve sat in cheap seats and box seats in stadiums all over the country. Like Tiger Stadium, some of them are gone. I’d like to visit the few ballparks I’ve missed. But I’d rather have the opportunity to watch one more game with my best high-school friend in Motown. Or to catch one more game with my dad. In the meantime, I’ll go to a game in Anaheim with my dearest local buddy. After the pains of 2020, it might be a memory of a lifetime. 

A great day for a ballgame.

 

Maybe you’ve got a ticket to a game today. Go ahead and play hooky. Or stay home and cook some hotdogs on the grill. Set the DVR and pop your favorite beverage. Make it a great day. Create some memories. Because today, baseball is back. 

 

Tiger Stadium.