I have a cousin who lives in a nearby suburb. Because he's about 10 years my junior, and due to family fractures too complex to go into here -- they give me a headache -- but have little or nothing to do with him and me, we never saw each other very often. What we have in common, frankly, is our acknowledged "favorite" status. I always knew I was our grandpa's favorite, and he was our grandma's shining star. Now that our grandparents are gone, there's something very dear about connecting and remembering.
We have exchanged updates often on Facebook but haven't seen one another since April. I know he was aware of my recent health problems and was aware I had his support, but I was tickled to receive a package from him yesterday.
A baseball signed by Jack Brickhouse! The Cubs announcer of my youth. Nouveau fans think of Harry Caray as "the voice of the Cubbies," but real fans KNOW it's the man who called Ernie Banks' 500th homer. Mr. Brickhouse died in 1998.
My cousin, noting the "rough patch" I've suffered lately, bought this ball for me from a neighbor, who had purchased it years ago in a Wrigley Field giftshop. It was a lovely gesture.
When you think of my family, you think Cubs. It's the one thing we have shared, generation to generation. And my cousin reports he recently recovered my grandmother's prized possession, a baseball signed by her beloved Ryne Sandberg. He thought the ball had been lost forever but found it in the attic, nestled among the insulation!
I received MY Jack Brickhouse ball, and he found GRANDMA's Ryne Sandberg ball, on the very day that Theo Epstein signed with Cubs! Coincidence? I think not!
And my heart is still so thankful for all the support I have received through my illness.
I got a little choked up--what a wonderful show of support.
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