They are just a group of old men dammit. I could cry. Heroes should remain young and strong in our hearts. Seeing these men white haired, bent and frail reminds us too much of our own destiny.
We were young and vibrant when we thrilled to their power and energy. We followed their exploits, basked in their fame and the honors they achieved. Now they are old. Their glory days are long past. They have been usurped by younger, stronger men. A new generation is cheering the new heroes.
We are old. Our heroes are old. It is hard to be replaced but that is life. We all grow old if we are lucky.
And that's what we need to remember. If we are around.to see our heroes grow old that means we have lived a full life and so have they.
This blog was inspired by a trip to see the 1966 Orioles team being honored. It was special to my husband Ron because that team was the one he loved. He had watched them play and met several of them over the years. Most of them were the same age as Ron.
Ron has Parkinson's with dementia now. I watch him lose more of himself everyday. I take every opportunity that comes along to remind him of the happier days in his life. Baseball has always been a huge part of his life. He played in high school and in the early days of our marriage. He was still playing when he started coaching our sons' little league team; even coached our daughter's team.
Recently, our children decorated a room for him with some of the Oriole memorabilia that he has collected over the years. He was overwhelmed.
The game of life goes on. It is just being played a little differently. Now we watch baseball games on television. But Ron often thinks we are there. The other day when he said we should start home before the crowd, I asked him where he thought we were. He said, "In the upper deck." That's ok with me.
