February 10: Little League, Wrestling, Snow Moon

Billy blinked in 1965, traveled in time to 1958.  He was at a banquet in honor of a Little League team of which his son Robert was a member.  The coach, who had never been married, was speaking.  He was all choked up.  "Honest to God," he was saying, "I'd consider it an honor just to be water boy for these kids."

Unlike Billy, I have been able to avoid sports banquets for my kids, because my kids have never really been involved in organized sports.  The one summer my wife signed my son up for tee-ball, he ended up spending more time at the concession stand than on the field.  The highlight of the experience for him was getting to choose the number for his jersey.  He chose the number 126, just because he could.

Well, all that is about to change.  My son is now in the youth wrestling program at his school.  He goes to practices.  There's going to be wrestling meets at which parents are expected to volunteer.  And, at the end of everything, I imagine there will be some kind of banquet/dinner/pot luck.  Unlike tee-ball, my son actually enjoys wrestling.

That does not bode well for me.  I have no problem sitting in dance studios, listening to music, and watching my son and daughter dance.  I enjoy dance competitions--all the sequins and feathers and fringe.  That's right in my comfort zone.  Sweaty little boys trying to pin each other to the ground, however, is not in my wheelhouse.  In fact, it's not even in my universe.

Don't worry.  I will go to my son's wrestling meets.  Watch him compete.  I will cheer for him if he wins.  I will cheer for him if he gets pinned.  In between that, I will bring a book to read.  Probably by John Irving--The World According to Garp maybe, since Irving loves wrestling.  So does T. S. Garp.  That's how I get by at sporting events.  Well, that, and the occasional thermos of spiked hot chocolate. 

Tonight, there is a snow moon and lunar eclipse.  I'm thinking of offering a sacrifice to Selene, Greek goddess of the moon.  Not sure what is appropriate.  A pan of brownies?  A plump pigeon?  A vestal virgin?

Saint Marty is grateful for anything but wrestling.

March 2: Fragments, Past, Wrestling

He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it.

This little wrestling match occurs at the end of Scrooge's time with the Ghost of Christmas Past.  The last scenes this Spirit shows him are quite painful, and Scrooge has had enough.  The pain and loss of his past overwhelms him, and Scrooge turns on the ghost and physically battles him.  Scrooge forces the specter to leave.

I think we all have moments in our past we wouldn't want to re-experience.  I can think of quite a few myself.  I can't imagine a ghost that has fragments of all of the people from my past who've hurt me.  It's a truly terrifying prospect.  I wouldn't be afraid of the ghost as much as the psychological pain.  Obviously, Scrooge has not made peace with his past at this point in the story.  I don't think I've reconciled myself to a lot of my experiences , as well.  I'd be doing some ghost wrestling myself if I were Scrooge.

I ain't 'fraid of no ghost!  Uh, yeah, I am...

This morning, I'm trying to get a lot of work done.  I have a great big pile of tasks to complete.  None of them, however, has to do with the ghosts of my past.  Thank God.  I'll leave the ghosts for tonight, when I'm used to those kinds of darker moments of reflection.  Sometimes the ghosts of the past can be more terrifying than the ghosts of future.  And there ain't no Ghostbuster you can call.

Take Saint Marty's word for it.