“Retrospect is 20-20” Alan B.

As the my Dodgers play the Sox in my dream World Series, I can’t but dwell on baseball and Phyl and remorse.

1–Both kids played and hit well from 4 years old to teenage.

2—On July 4 each year, we’d go to the Dodger game and fireworks.

3—I collected baseball cards.

Phyl wasn’t thrilled by any of these.

1–I pitched to the kids or took them to the batting cage almost daily.   Neither Jody nor Adam loved it, so neither did Phyllis.  She hated when I watched their games and criticized.  She’d tell me from time-to-time, but wouldn’t dwell on it, because, I suppose, she knew it meant a lot to me.  But she was so right.

2—July 4 was our anniversary.  Phyl and the kids would sit through the game and on the outfield grass for the fireworks.  None of the three knew Kirk Gibson from our cleaning lady.  I doubt either Jody or Adam loved it, and I was inexplicably blind to the obvious that neither did Phyllis.  She never did say anything, because, I suppose, she knew it meant a lot to me.  But it was our fucking anniversary, and I know how she felt.  She was so right.

3—I spent hours and hours and thousands of dollars going to card shows, shops, and buying through mail.  Phyllis’d mention from time-to-time, “we’re not rich; it’s just cardboard,” but wouldn’t dwell on it, because, I suppose, she knew it meant a lot to me.  But she was so right.

In the rear-view mirror, these were so time-consuming and self-serving, I just cannot believe that was me.   And yet, Myphyllis was so unselfish and self-sacrificing and devoted, I can’t but regret.  As I say every damn night, if I only had one of those minutes back….