It is odd to discover that time obeys the economic laws of supply and demand but as I have aged, that has become ever more clear as my supply has dwindled, my demand remains constant and the value increases accordingly.
That may explain why, now, I am content to check the scores and read the stats of my favorite football or baseball team, getting every bit as frustrated with their performance without investing three plus hours for an hour of action.
This has worked out quite well, but I am concerned that they may start winning, and that I will become another recidivist looking everywhere for a Sports Fan Anonymous meeting.
My uncle and I would sneak away from the seemingly endless party, no one wanted to attend and couldn’t leave. We go up to my room and turn on the radio. He’d want to look for the Senators game, but they’d left town and no radio could pull in Minneapolis anyway, but despite Killebrew, Arbitron sealed their fate and this was Yankees country as well. I try to pull in C H U M from across the lake. It played music the local DJs wouldn’t touch, in which never found their constrictive playlists, provided by dad’s pal, the local rack jobber come self-assumed all label A&R man. Still, Mel would listen with me until he was missed then try and sneak back to the party, while I listen Don into the night, hearing songs I have to hunt for at the record store, for one thing I knew was that it didn’t have a section marked Canadian Content Rule.
When I die, my friend Larry said one morning in the third inning of a double header of stoop ball, I want to be burned, not that I intend it to happen any time soon, but when it does. They burned my grandfather I think it was Dachau, but unlike him, I want to kick some ass before it happens. Just let them call me Jew boy I’d like to hear the sound of their balls imploding up into their bladder. They burned my grandmother too, years later, until all that was left was the cancer eating her stomach, but I want to be burned in an oven set up properly for the job, my ashes cast into the wind or maybe in the infield of Buffalo’s War Memorial Stadium if Luke Easter is still playing first base for the Bisons. It was only two days later that Larry tripped on the curb outside the variety store on the way home from school and later that day they took his kidney and laid it, all bloody within, on the steel tray. When he came home his mother said he had to be careful when you have only one kidney you can’t fool around and you certainly want to avoid the strain that comes from kicking any ass.
First Appeared in Afterthoughts (Canada), Vol. 2, No. 4, Autumn, 1995.