destined

  Having something to write about, an opinion to express, or just a simple observation every morning can be a challenge at times. Many themes and thoughts have been repeated over the years just as history predicts that it will. Yes, life is indeed a circular event. What's old becomes new again and vice-versa. This morning I thought to just select a picture and write something about that. I did just that a few days ago and was pleased with the result. I wish I could say that about very post I made but that wouldn't be honest. Some are better than others. If Google analytics are to believed, a story I wrote about the Dugan Man is by far my most popular. It is the one I have certainly received the most comments on. 

  I went to my pictures folder and scrolled through a bit until a picture jumped out at me I felt I could write something about. I wanted to write something that contains more than a brief description of the picture. It has been said a picture is worth a thousand words and there is truth in that. Still, someone has to add those words or at the very least imagine them. The picture I selected takes me back to 1962. I was ten years old. I know it was 1962 because of the image itself and that's a good thing because I surely would have had to take a guess. This is that image: 

 

This patch belonged to my oldest brother Harold. He was on the basketball team for St. Lukes Episcopal church, East Hampton, Long Island, New York. My other brother Dan was on the team, and I played for that team on at least one or two occasions. Each church in East Hampton had a youth basketball team and we competed with each other. It didn't involve a great deal of money for uniforms, equipment or venue. 

 We played our games at the "Neighborhood House." That building was what we would call a community center today. There was the basketball court in one wing of that building. The locker rooms were on one end of the court and a stage marked the other end. Yes, we often ran into the wall at the one end and the stage at the other. It was on the stage that the spectators sat, there was no room on the sidelines. When I see that patch all those memories flood back at me. Hard to believe that was sixty-one years ago. Six decades. 

  The year all that ended I'm uncertain of. I heard that there was some unsportsmanlike conduct becoming a frequent part of after the game activities and so it was decided to disband the church league. If that was the true cause or not, I can't really say. By 1971 I had left the church and the town and so don't know if it was ever revived. But I have this little patch, a relic, a piece of sports memorabilia that I suspect few have. My brother must have purchased this patch. I do not recall my other brother or I having one. My brother Harold would have been sixteen in 1962 and so had a job and the funds to buy that.

  My brother Harold is gone now, he passed in 2014. I recall another teammate of his Asa Peckham, Asa is also gone now. The other names and faces have become somewhat of a blur to me. Hey, I was only ten remember. But I remember Asa especially because of his aggressive style and he was good, very good. Although not as tall as the others he was quick and a good shot. How many of those teammates remain today I couldn't say. 

  But that image of that patch does contain a thousand words, or more. The patch itself is just in a safe place, tucked away with other memories and mementos. One day I will decide upon the fate of that little patch. I'll find a good home for the memories locked inside. I have no photograph of my brother in his basketball uniform, if we even had them. I'm thinking we may have had shirts but I'm not certain about that. I do remember the cheerleaders from some of the other teams. The "mighty, mighty Baptists" stood out as the loudest of the bunch. I can't explain why I remember that, but I still hear their chants to this day. 

  All of this took place long before social media, selfies or "organized" sports as we know them today. Today even the smallest of teams would have far better facilities than we ever saw, uniforms and fundraisers. There were no team photographs either. Today it is all very professional. Wasn't like that at all back in '62. We just all showed up for the game and played. There may have been a practice or two, but it certainly wasn't anything regular. I'm not sure if there was a "champion" at the end of the season. If there was, it wasn't St. Lukes. I don't recall much about any of that. 

 I do remember playing in my first game. It was a big deal you know. I was playing on a team! I was given the ball at one point in the first half and managed to score a basket. Pretty exciting stuff. We came out for the second half. I got the ball again and drove to the basket. Jumping as hard as I could I did a layup! Two points! But that is when I learned you change baskets at the half. I had scored two points for the other team! Well, in my defense it was the only Christian thing to do, it was a church league after all. It was also the end of my basketball career. I never played on another basketball team after that season. 

 It's only a small cloth patch. I have written about this before, if only a brief description of what it is. But it is what it represents that is important to me. It's like a time machine. That, of course, will be lost forever when I'm gone. There is no one else that will attach any memories of 1962 to that particular artifact. It will become, at best, a curiosity. That thought saddens me a bit. Still, I'm well aware that it will happen to a lot of the things I regard as treasure. I'm just grateful that I have it at this time to remember that time. I think that is the purpose of that item, unknown at the time of purchase. It was destined to be. Yeah, it isn't only people that have a destiny, so do objects. Is destiny created? Apparently so.