The Greek roots of the word photography translate as "writing with light." Welcome to my studio--a place to practice and illuminate good work using writing and photography.

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Indelible


Grandpa Al knew Ralph Houck, and in those days that got him tickets to Yankee Stadium. Back then there were double headers that justified the cost for a day's ride on the train into The City. For a kid a first pro game is sensory overload. The beyond-green grass and its meticulous landscaping, announcers and the crowd, the divided fans, many in jerseys and with mitts, a far cry from the weed filled infield and dilapidated bleachers of little league at home. That first game for him was the Yankees versus the Tigers in the original Yankee Stadium, a structure that had huge metal girders holding the upper decks. To fans who ended up unable to see the field sitting behind the girders, they were the pits--and a constant source of complaints. But that day Willie Horton of the Tigers hit a line drive that screamed toward him and Grandpa Al, but hit the girder instead and rocketed to a point at the intersection between 2nd and 3rd base. He was hooked.

Decades later, against better judgment, he will still throw himself, mitt first, up or down stadium stairs for a foul ball that comes his way. 

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