Small Ball

They don't hit many home runs in the Cape Cod League.
The players are college stars, used to aluminum bats.
They come from all over the country to show what they can do
In something approaching professional league conditions.

The atmosphere at the Cape League ballparks
Is very much like the old days of town teams.
Each of the teams is sponsored by a local town or village.
The parks are owned by the towns and maintained by non-profit groups.

We turn out to cheer for whomever is representing our town this summer.
The players are selected from recommendations by college coaches.
Subject to NCAA rules, they are not paid for playing baseball,
Although many find part time jobs to earn a little money.

Each team has a sponsoring group to raise money, to pay for
Salaries of managers, coaches, umpires, groundskeepers, etc.
And to find, encourage, and support the host families
Who put up ball players in their homes for the summer.

At the ball park, some sit in the little tin bleachers.
Most of the older folks sit in sling chairs on the sidelines.
Kids with mitts play in the outskirts
And race to grab a foul ball hit in their vicinity.

The concession stand is jammed during the entire game.
We have a 50-50 raffle with a variety of sponsors' prizes.
Families spread blankets and picnic with their progeny.
We cheer at all good plays by either side.

Yesterday, the score was tied 1-1 between Chatham and Yarmouth-Dennis.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, the Chatham pitcher walked two
And was lifted for a relief pitcher, who got the second out, then
Gave up a single that brought in the Y-D runner on second base.

Next, the catcher dropped a pitch, and in the scramble,
Allowed the second runner to advance to third.
Then that runner scored on a passed ball,
And the stands erupted with cheers for the home team.

I score the games; Barbara knits.
I like a tight game -- a real pitchers' duel.
She likes lots of hits, as do most fans.
Doesn't matter who wins, we enjoy the summer at the ball park!

Cruising the Eastern Mediterranean Part III

Off the ship and bussed to Florence, heart of Tuscany,
Which we both had explored in previous visits.
Time for only a half-day expedition led us to the Medici Chapel
To see Michaelangelo's sculptures commissioned by the Grand Dukes.









Then to Rome to have a Chinese dinner near the hotel.
Next day, a long walking tour on a hot day
All over the Colisseum and up through the Forum
To visualize the citizens of the mighty empire at work and play.

Modern Rome is obviously a city in trouble.
Traffic chokes the streets; cars park double and on sidewalks.
Graffiti defaces all the fine old buildings.
Commerce and residence are mixed indiscriminately.

Athens is worse, with little distinctive architecture.
Both cities are capitals of their respective countries.
Grand plans for civic improvement
Are jeopardized by perilous debt in each.

By contrast, we were pleasantly surprised at the
Beauty and order of Izmir in Turkey.
Well laid-out boulevards pass between rows of
Handsome apartment buildings in residential areas.

A dinner out at a little cellar trattoria in Rome,
Followed by an illumination tour and a visit to the fabled
Trevi fountain, where we each threw a coin
Over the left shoulder to assure a return to Rome.

So that two American college students will meet on a
Tour to Italy in 2035, he a geeky blond English major, she
An art student who reminds her family of her wild great aunt,
Barbara; both will wonder what drew them together.

At St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel, amidst all the
Renaissance art and churchly opulence, one wonders how
The authorities would react to the presence of an itinerant
Preacher who proclaims: "Blessed are the humble in spirit."

Cruising the Eastern Mediterranean Part II

Watched the ascent of Santorini Island by fellow passengers
By bus, cable car, mule, or on foot up to the town.
Admired the scattering of white stucco houses
Across the island of Myknonos.









Almost every home had a small chapel and mausoleum on site.
Ancient windmills ground corn, like those on Cape Cod.
Admired a startling Baroque church in the middle of a monastery,
Adjacent to a shopping mall where we were served ouzo and sea delicacties.












Back to Venice for a day to take on new passengers.
Boated into Piazza San Marco to visit the Duomo.
Took a special trip on the vaporetto to Santa Maria dei Frari
To see Titian's famous "Assumption of Mary into Heaven."

Dubrovnik lived up to its billing as an
Enchanted walled town with its Renaissance charm intact,
Perched on a cliff overlooking the Adriatic Sea,
Surviving earthquakes and wars over the centuries.

Realized a goal of a lifetime
In seeing the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens.
The new museum at the foot offers a splendid panorama
And displays the original artifacts that adorned the temple.









The ruins of Ephesus, near Izmir, Turkey
Combine the heritage of ancient Greece, the glory of Rome,
And the flowering of Christianity,
Where John lived and Paul preached.

Too worn out from clambering Ephesus
To make a visit to Nafplion,
We viewed and photographed
This jewel of a resort from the comfort of the ship.

Cruising the Eastern Mediterranean Part I

Venezia! What a joy! Beginning with
A mad speedboat ride to the Grand Canal.
A walk through the Jewish Ghetto, no longer
Locked at night to keep in the ghost of Shylock.

A tour of the Rialto and the Piazza San Marco.
Respite in the cool, subdued confines of
The Peggy Guggenheim Collection of modern art,
Its garden courtyard, museum cafe, and buried dogs.




Dinner at our Hotel Principe
With candlelight, music, and sights of the canal.
Boat ride to Murano to see glass blowing,
Fabulous and expensive glass objects for sale.

On board the Norwegian Gem on Saturday,
An immense floating hotel for 2,400 guests.
First shore excursion to Split, in Croatia,
An ancient resort on the Dalmatian coast.













The tour centered on the palace erected by the
Roman Emperor Diocletian in the third century,
Now containing a tiny Orthodox cathedral,
Restored vaults, and modern apartments.













Next a drive in Corfu, a seedy and rundown island,
Past dealers for every car and motorcycle on the planet,
To visit a late nineteenth century palace built by
A deeply neurotic Austrian Empress who was bored in Vienna.

She was whacked by an anarchist in 1898.
The palace was then bought and occupied by the German Kaiser.
None of which we much cared about, except for photographing
The gardens and the statuary surrounding the palace.

We're Not Old Enough

We're not old enough for the senior center.
We joined the "friends" for the travel club,
Securing a bus ride and admission to
The MFA and its annual "Art in Bloom."

We had to meet with the travel coordinator
At the Yarmouth Senior Center
To pay the bill and make reservations
For future trips to Newport and Providence.

What a dismal experience!
The lobby and corridors are reminiscent of
A seedy nursing home or a fleabag motel
With ancient, bored volunteers at the desk.

Bulletin boards everywhere are replete
With medical advice for every known disease,
And announcements of services for those unable
To perform life's basic tasks.

The internal decor varies from dirty beige
To dirty brown, in places where it may be viewed.
Otherwise, the fluorescent lights turn everything to
Looking like accoutrements for an emergency room.

In the side rooms are very old people
Playing pinochle or mah jongg, or something,
Looking like they had been dumped there
By their caregivers for the day.

But there are all sorts of more lively activities,
Ranging from bridge to line dancing to yoga.
My favorite is exercise from your wheelchair.
Don't forget daily lunches for two dollars.

The whole scene reminds me of the clubhouse
At a vast retirement community in Florida,
Where the purpose of life is simply to waste time
Between doctor's appointments and the inevitable end.

My Grandparents

You know about William C. from "Oshkosh."
Add that he was deaf like his son and grandson.
We know so little about his wife, Katharine
Other than she died young in 1911.

According to the 1880 census
She was called Katie; had six siblings.
Her parents were from Prussia, or so they said.
Katie was born in 1868, married at twenty

To a man ten years her senior.
Bore two sons quickly, none thereafter.
Was a pillar of local society, elegantly dressed.
Bequeathed a long, thin face to future generations.

A greater mystery is Eugene F. Cooney.
Father born in Ireland, mother in Illinois.
Mom said he was at the Chicago Board of Trade
When trading grain futures was the whole business.

Eugene married Mary Costello in 1899
When she was already twenty-four;
The only Costello daughter to marry.
Marie Eugenie arrived the same year.

They were a family for the 1910 census
But separated some time later.
Gram said she became a milliner;
Owned her shop in Chicago.

My mother said that her father
Drowned in Lake Michigan near the dunes
While on an outing with friends.
She never saw him after her parents separated.

Gram, or Mame, as she was called
Was my only living grandparent.
Married again to a cigar manufacturer
She was a delight to visit, with matchless Irish humor.

The Irish Catholic

Jean Cooney Kimball

She was named Eugenie, after her father, Eugene,
But dropped that for Jean, which was easier to handle.
Maybe it was after the Empress,
Marie Eugenie of France.

Anyway, when her parents separated,
Her mother moved back in with the Costellos.
That would be the matriarch, Ellen Darcy Costello,
Four aunts and an uncle, living on the West Side.

They never had anything to do with the Cooneys,
Which was a pity, because the Cooneys
Were willing to pay for her education
And for her brother, Ed.

As it was, she had to quit the Catholic high school
After her second year, to get a job.
She took a brief secretarial course
And was hired by the Old Ben Coal Corporation.

She heard about their star salesman, Charlie Kimball,
And made up her mind to size him up.
He proposed to her on their first date;
They were married when she was still eighteen.

Charlie, known always to her as "Kim,"
Was drafted in 1918 and sent to Camp Grant, Illinois.
For about nine months of service.
In the Quartermaster Corps.

They lived in various flats on the South Side of Chicago
Until moving to Lake Forest, where they built
A beautiful Tudor style home on Ahwanee Road,
Designed by their friend, Stanley Anderson.

They lost the house in the Depression,
Dad was reduced to half pay,
And sent to Kansas City as regional sales manager,
Where they spent eleven years.

Mom was largely self-educated and transformed herself
Into a formidable society figure in Kansas City.
She became expert in interior design, amassing
A collection of antiques in the thirties for next to nothing.

She led a bond drive during World War II
Which culminated in a huge performance in the Royal Arena.
The high point was meeting the featured speaker, Bette Davis.
Talked to her for hours; they were much alike.

When they moved back to Chicago,
Dad became a coal buyer for the Quartermaster Depot.
They lived in a luxurious apartment for $100 per month
In a high rise building on the Gold Coast.

But the war years were difficult,
With three sons off to service in various years.
Eau Claire was better, because they made older friends.
It was her idea to move to Florida, when Dad retired.

She moved back to the Chicago area when he died,
Living in a little apartment in Lake Bluff, and
Working some in a local store, as she had in Clearwater.
She died of a stroke in 1970, at the age of seventy.