Tomorrow my son plays in a baseball tournament at Ewing Field.
Jim Ewing was one of my Dad's best friends. When Jim got ALS and began to die, he had a little device from which he could communicate. The disease was attacking his throat first. I was in junior high. He was like a member of the family.
We were just a few blocks away from them. After Jim died, Dad and my brother and I would ride our bikes to see his widow, Mary. Mary was hysterical, in my view. She always sat in the same chair and wore a house dress. And she always offered us soda, which thrilled me, because we didn't have any at home.
Jim Ewing was a man among men; and he meant the world to my Pops. Playing at the field named for him means a lot to me. I like to think he is smiling in a land where all is well. The fact that we are playing at 8am...I will let that go.
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