A Great Many "Could Have Beens"

My father told me the story of the time he owned a baseball signed by Robyn Roberts, a pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies back in the fifties. According to him, he "should have" taken the ball with him to Las Vegas, where he moved from New Jersey, the final resting place of said baseball. My father lived in an apartment adjacent to my grandparent's bakery. He assumes that the ball was destroyed in a fire the bake shop suffered some many years ago. Even if it had survived, he could not retrieve it, nor ask his brother to send it to him, for his brother and my father have not been on speaking terms since the 1970's. My father often tells me the story of what a great arm he had. He could through a hand grenade a hundred yards according to his drill sergeant's estimation. He played baseball when he was a teenager, often striking out because he was too aggressive at the plate. However, my father could pitch. He knows just about everything about pitching. He tells me about how to grip a slider, how to release side-arm, the difference in velocities and movement between a split-finger and a four-seamer. My father's dream was to play for the Yankees, but he didn't even try out for the minors because of his duties to the family business, which sounds like he was "mobbed-up." I assure you his only interest was in the legitimate family business of baking. My father went to a vocational school and studied culinary arts because he was to take over the family business. Of course, his older brother took over the family business and my father and he had a falling out over some control issues. My father has always resented his older brother for bringing the business down with his choice of less-than-fine ingredients. The two men don't like each other and hardly acknowledge the other's existence.

My father never learned how to be the younger brother, or even how to just be cool. He is a tense and stubborn man. He maintains that he could have been a pro baseball player. He could have been a fabulous baker. He could have taken over the family business. He never stuck with any of these plans. He always had a reason to bail which ultimately lead him to the desert where he held the uninspiring position of roulette dealer for thirty years. Though, life for a dealer was somewhat glamorous in the 1970's and 1980's, it lost its allure in the 1990's. My father also lost his allure, and the position ground him down in to an embittered family man who could barely afford to buy clothes for his kids. He could have stopped at two kids and lived comfortably, but he chose to have four kids. I love my younger brothers. I am making an observation about the economic reasons to limit the number of members in one's household. I feel this is especially important when the sole income earner resents his kids for existing.

I am pleased to say I have followed my dreams. I have lead an amazing life which I continue to live with passion. I once was headed down a path of "could have beens," but I diverged from the straight and narrow long ago. I have been on a meandering paths of "come what may" without reproach and it has enriched my life tremendously. I have toured with the biggest band in the world. I have lived in Music Capital of the World. I have loved many women. I do not regret a moment. There have been hardships and struggle. There have been rewards and triumphs. I do have my share of "could have beens" but these musings are a path to regret, and I wouldn't change a thing that has happened to me or I have done.

There is still so much life to live. Life is long and if you delineate your life in to a number of days, you will see that there are good times and bad, but all in all, there is an opportunity to make mistakes, to make strides, to learn, to feel. I will never live vanilla again. I will live peppermint, strawberry, mango and lemon. I have a theory that when a man ceases to progress, his hair will fall out. May you never see me bald for it will mean I've slumped in to a sedentary life. I will prosper, advance, progress and persevere.

Thank you, oh, conscious reader. You bring truth to this ode.