Time Travel

I stepped outside with our corgis, Forrest and Jenny, in tow for their daily walk. And then it happened. The warmth of the sun (72 degrees) engulfed me while a slight breeze caressed my face. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes … time travel. Instantly, I was transported back 50 years to a softball field at Southern Illinois University. Teammates surrounded me. All of us in our 20s, most of us full of ourselves, and to the last man, ready to “play ball” on a sunny, springlike day. We are Vietnam-era veterans. We are in the SIU Vets Club attending college on the GI Bill and wisely spending those tax dollars on higher education essentials like ... beer.

The dude in the front row on the left is sketch.

We are warming up before the game. I hear the pops of the balls in our gloves, and the clang of the aluminum bat launching white, 12-inch projectiles to the waiting outfielders. No one wants to warm up with MJ. (I’m using initials because I’m not sure my memory will correctly recall the names.) MJ was a chopper pilot in Vietnam. He is an incredible athlete with a rocket launcher arm. Dang! He wants to warm up with me. I see a blurry white comet with my name on it, hear the explosion as horsehide meets cowhide, and feel a sudden lightning strike of pain detonate on my hand. “It will be the fifth inning before I get feeling back in my left arm.” 

It is funny how something as simple as a beautiful afternoon can bring back such vivid memories of days gone by.  I wish it would happen more often.