The temperature in Marquette Wednesday: 15 degrees. The temperature in Scottsdale, Arizona: 75 degrees.
Scottsdale–that’s where I’m headed for about five days, not only for a respite from our winter cold, but also for a trip back to my youth, a half century ago, when I was a baseball-loving youngster.
I’ve always wanted to spend a few idyllic days at spring training where the air is warm, the sky is blue, and hope springs eternal, so that’s what I’m doing this winter, with my brother and a friend.
We’ll watch a few games, eat some hot dogs, and talk about the good old days when we were all young and hopeful, pounding our mitts in the outfield and awaiting our turns at bat.
Ah, youth. Life did seem better then, didn’t it? Certainly easier for most of us, freed of the responsibilies of adulthood, parenthood, marriage, and career. Now we’ve grown up, dealt with most of life’s challenges, and are experiencing the back side of life.
Sure, our bodies don’t operate quite as well as they used to, and there’s not as much time left for us, but for a few days in Arizona, I trust that we’ll enjoy those blue skies and those hot dogs, we’ll identify with those young and skilled athletes, and we’ll be reassured that, yes, life is pretty damn good.