Easter was wonderful. The sun was shining the whole day in celebration. Dinner was perfect. Our table was at a window overlooking the water. Just for the fun of it, we brought a light up bunny from the Easter basket to decorate the table. Miss Bunny was pink with flowered fabric hands and ears, a lace collar and lights which blinked and she was quite the conversation piece. People pointed and laughed and chatted with us about our dinner guest. We took Miss Bunny’s picture as a memento of her big day. We each had a few drinks, generous drinks, and the food was delicious. My plate was empty with only a bit of gravy to prove there had been a dinner. The restaurant was totally filled, but we had a favorite couple seated near us. They were old, and the wife had to help her husband sit down. She was wearing a bright yellow spring coat and the best hat ever, round and flowered. I took a picture as she was taking it off at the table-the woman is smiling from ear to ear. They ordered martinis, and I liked that couple even more. After dinner, over dessert, we all agreed we loved our Easter tradition of dinner at the Ocean House.
Today is baseball’s opening day. Last year my Sox were in last place at the end of the season so any other place would be an improvement. The game is against the Yankees and starts at 1. I’ll wear my Red Sox sweatshirt and cheer like crazy. I am an eternal optimist. The Globe has been filled with articles discussing this year’s team and the toxicity of last year’s. Jackie Bradley Jr. is 23 and never got as high as Triple A, but he’s going to be in left field today and is, “Ready to start the adventure.” You have to love a baseball player who still thinks of baseball as a game, an adventure, and not a business. His fiancé and his parents will be at the game to watch his debut. Welcome to Boston, Jackie!
I remember the baseball of my childhood. It was when baseball sang of summer, of pick-up games in fields, of the whack of the wooden bats and the taunting from the outfield, “No Batter, no batter.” Baseball was seldom complicated: three up, three down and nine innings or less if we got hot, tired or thirsty. We shared gloves so everyone would have one. We only had one ball, and if it got lost, the game was halted while we all hunted for it in the tall grass beside the field. Bases were whatever we could find, and we’d pace out the distance between them one sneaker heel to toe to the other. We didn’t have umpires, and we’d get impatient at batters who stayed in the box far too long. Safe or out at one of the bases often became an argument, but not a serious argument, and we always settle it fairly so the game could continue. Baseball was easy to love when we were kids.