Baby Boom

Ahh... 2004, the year mr. bon turned 50; and a great many of our friends and relatives too. As a tail-ender-baby-boomer and mr. bon's much younger wife, I had a great time that year keeping a tally of all the golden birthday parties we were invited to. Even Oprah Winfrey and John Travolta were included on my list when they joined the five-oh club. Though, I'm still awaiting the arrival of the actual invitation for those soirees.

As my total climbed to upward of 34 people by year's end, I began to understand that baby boom wasn't just a marketer's dream but a real, live, kicking and breathing, history making event of our time. When you come in on the tail end of something like this you don't really understand it's ramifications - until 50 years later when your mailbox starts filling up with all those invitations.

I only mention this era because, just this week, our social circle began to show signs of its own little boomlet. Four of our friends (the other friends, not the boomers) announced that they are expecting their first little bundles of joy in the near future; there is even a set of twins on the way! With due- dates ranging from June to early September, it's going to be a busy summer of trips to the Baby Gap, flowery baby showers oozing with crepe paper and squealing women, and hours spent waiting by the phone to hear word whether to buy pink or more blue.

Each of these couples will spend their summer gradually evolving from D.I.N.Ks to proud parents; a transformation I love to watch. A transformation mr. bon's mom can appreciate too. Fifty years ago today, she delivered sons numbers 3 and 4, the little cuties in the wheel barrel above. Congratulations to her as she celebrates enduring more than half a century (gasp) of parenting and her own magnificent contributions to the baby boom.

Girl Got Her iPod ... She Did!

sTing

marsHall tucker band

stephen wAde

wyntoN marsalis

diana Krall

lYle lovett

pearl djangO

traveling wilbUry's

The Ides of March

This Day in History

0044 BC

Julius Caesar assasinated in the Roman Senate,
as predicted by the soothsayer

1892

Inventor Jesse W. Reno patents the escalator, New York City

1493

Christopher Columbus returns to Spain after 1st New World Voyage

1869

Cincinnatti Red Stockings beat Antioch 41-7

1912

Pitcher Cy Young retires with 511 wins

1956

"My Fair Lady" opens at the Mark Hellinger Theater in NYC for

2,715 performances, starring Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews

1961

South Africa withdraws from the British Commonwealth

1962

Wilt Chamberlain is first to score 4,000 points in one season

1963

Bonnie Lee Newcom born to Robbie and Virginia,
Seattle, Washington, 9:40pm

Well Damn. And Shame on Me

Is everybody corrupt?

While pregnant with my son Alex, some 14 years ago, my husband and I attended a Mariner's game with our elderly collegue from Nordstrom, Bob. A sweet man, who genuinely cared about Jim and his future with the company. He was sort of a fatherly mentor to Jim when it came to selling men's clothing. Bob's career was long and esteemed. Jim learned a lot from Bob. Bob made sure of it.

Naturally, with a paternal connection like that, Bob felt compelled and entitled to help us name the growing bubble of life in my stomach. He was always lobbing potential names our way, hoping for approval and for just one of them to stick. None of them ever did, until that night back at the Kingdome, when the M's were playing the Twins.

One name appeared on the big screen that night, a name that Bob aggresively lobbied for and, to his great delight, succeeded in placing on the A- list of potentials. A name that ultimately was not chosen but has remained in our hearts to this very day.

Kirby ... as in Puckett.

I am truly saddened by the premature death of one the great major leaguers of modern times. Just 45 years old and gone. Not only did this kid put up great numbers, he, more importantly in my mind, brought life to the game, and fans too. His enthusiam was infectious, who could not like baseball when Kirby was in town?

In this past week following his death, the blogosphere and all the other media outlets, have been awash with glowing stories of Puck. While I agree with every radiant word I read and can add nothing more, I do admit an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

In him, and then later, in myself.

Turns out Kirby wasn't perfect. I only learned of his dalliance with domestic violence while researching this post. I was disappointed, to say the least. I thought Puck was one of the few players that lived the dream without abusing his power and mucking up what could be the perfect story for a mother to pass on to her own little leaguer. A real rags to riches story that was born of hard work and honing a talent.

Not so. In the years following his career, also tragically cut short, this time by glaucoma, his life spiraled a bit, to the point of allegedly threatening to kill his wife. Criminal charges were never filed. Later, more serious accusations sent him to court, again forceful conduct towards a woman, he was found not-guilty.

But there it is. The chink in the armour.

As my sister wisely reminded me when I was sharing my frustration about Puck's fall from grace, nobody is perfect. I've said as much myself (see Bye, Bye Boonie, an earlier post in the bon blog). I'm certainly not perfect, when y'all are writing my eulogies, you'll reveal some chinks. That's a promise.

In the wake of Kirby's death, I'm left wondering why our sports heroes can't be perfect and why we should even expect them to be.

Happiness Is ... volume II

... waking up to the chirping of the birds as they greet the dawn.

... the great caterpillar of a shadow we cast as Jan and I walked our 25 students to the park, in the sun.

... wearing sunglasses.

... turning on the radio and hearing the welcome voice of Dave Niehaus as he called the first broadcasted game of the Spring Cactus League.

Amen and Hallelujah, I've made it through the winter!

Bye, Bye Boonie

No matter how you felt about Brett Boone when he was abruptly shown the clubhouse door last July, you have to admit that he was once a key force in the Seattle Mariners line-up.

Yup, things were bleak at the end. There were days when the once golden glove seemed to have been cast in bronze and couldn't catch a basketball. And the bat? Seemed like Boonie was wielding a broomstick rather than a piece of sculpted ash. Probably the victim of desperation, of wanting the big hit that would knock the monkey right off his back. Never came, though. Finally the Mariners, desperate enough themselves, had had enough and put the spirited second baseman on waivers where he lingered for 8 long days until picked up by the Twins for what amounted to little more than a nightmarish vacation, lasting just 2 weeks. After a long, hard summer he finally signed with the Mets organization last January. But by then, something had changed, Boone had lost his passion.

New York's training camp in Port St. Lucie was the site of his tearful resignation where he cited his dulling edge.

"It wasn't as easy as even three or four years ago, but I had lost the edge. I couldn't look in the mirror and think that I would get that edge back."

True Mariners fans will long remember the contributions Brett Boone made for the 3 1/2 years he wore the M's uniform. Averaging 32 homers and 119 RBIs. Notably his part in the glorious 2001 season in which the Mariners won 116 games. Boone impressively belted in 37 homers and drove in 147 runs, averaging .331 for the season. A gratifying highlight of a respectable, 14 year career that any major leaguer could be proud of.