Friday, January 05, 2007

Entry #10

The Old Grey Wall
by Paul Liadis


For most men, their most fond childhood memory involves playing catch in the backyard with their dad, like the ending of The Natural. Mine's a little different. Mine is of the old grey wall outside of the apartment Mom and I lived in when I was a boy. We had electricity most of the time, hot water occasionally, but the old grey wall was always there.

Mom used to come home late from work only to find me outside throwing the beat-up Rawlings baseball Grandpa gave me against the wall, imagining I was Ozzie Smith roaming the Busch Stadium infield. I was too small to make the baseball team, but on that gravel filled pavement I was an All Star. For years I was sure I held the record for most throws, 5,429, without a miss and if the Guinness Book of Records people ever happened to be in my neighborhood, I would be famous.

I still return from time to time to my home town to visit my mother, who now lives in a nice little Ranch not too far from the city. That dilapidated excuse of an apartment building burned down a few years ago but the old grey wall remains. I rarely miss the chance to visit my old friend, only now I bring my son with me and we stand in front of that old grey wall and have a catch together. Sometimes, I miss the ball on purpose, just to give my friend a turn.

9 comments:

S. W. Vaughn said...

What a sweet little snapshot!

Jim said...

And what's funny about this is that you can add a few more words and take it in a completely deranged, psychotic, and sinister direction. :)

Fran Piper said...

Sweet.

Anonymous said...

I loved the rising emotion of this story.

Anonymous said...

I can see this story in my head. You paint a nice picture of a boy and the biggest strike zone ever created. I like it.

Jeff said...

Good story! Great emotion!

Anonymous said...

An endearing composition - lovely work.

strugglingwriter said...

Thanks for the nice comments everyone. I had a lot of fun writing this. Good luck to all.

jason evans said...

Effective use of the perspective of childhood. We can have the fondest memories of the most mundane things. For example, I fondly remember a certain ditch (yeah, long story).

High marks for pacing and storytelling.