Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit

Tag: Musings

Best Wishes, Larry Biittner

Last night as I tried to fall asleep, thoughts of my childhood sports idol, Cubs’ Larry Biittner, came to mind. Sleep was not to be until I Googled ol’ #26. Browsing Wikipedia, I quickly learned that he had passed just a year ago. As my 10-year-old heart sank, I physically felt a sadness flow through me.

Larry Biittner mostly played left field and first base for the Cubs. He wasn’t a superstar and didn’t always start but was a solid utility player who would make a clutch hit or provide a most exciting play. He once dove for a ball in right field and the ball came out of his glove and rolled into his cap. He was looking around in circles for the ball as the fans yelled out to him that it was under his hat. He finally found it and threw the batter out at third! Once, he pitched when the Cubs bullpen was thin. The TV screen flashed “LARRY BIITTNER IS PIITCHING!!!”  Biittner was an exciting player to watch and gave Cub fans some excitement at a time there was little exciting about the Cubs.

I remember sitting with my friend and fellow Cubs fan, Terry Bradford, writing fan letters to our heroes – he to Bobby Murcer and me to Larry Biittner. My letter was filled with hope for a World Series win someday (as all true Cubs fans believed, even though during the late 70s, the Cubs were often vying for last place in the NL East). I declared to him that when I grew up, I wanted to be the first girl in the Major Leagues and wanted to play shortstop for the Cubs. I was certain it was to be, just like the World Series win.

A couple weeks later, having waited daily for the mailman to arrive, I saw an envelope addressed to me with a Cubs return address! I carefully tore open the envelope to find a large photo of my hero with the words in Cubby blue ink, “To Momi, Best Wishes, Larry Biittner”

Now, I have no idea what kind of man Larry Biittner was and frankly, I don’t really want to know (as my Dad stated after refusing to watch “The Right Stuff”, “I don’t want to see my heroes humanized.”). What I do know is that a little girl’s dreams were supported by her larger-than-life hero and that picture was framed and hung next to her bed and gazed upon countless times in her childhood.

1976-77 fifth grade class photo in my favorite Cubbies t-shirt and Cubby blue suede shoes with red laces (I snuck out of the house with a sweater over my shirt so my mom wouldn’t know I was wearing it for my class photo)

So, I’m a year late, but his death is fresh to me today. To honor him, today I don my wool #26 Cubs jersey — yes, Cubs fans, I know it was Billy Williams’ number which is now retired, but to me it will always belong to Larry Biittner.

Thank you, Larry. Wherever you are off into the ether, I send you my best wishes.

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My Magic Carpet and I

After visiting my mom this Thanksgiving, I picked up a box of papers that she had set aside for me years ago.  In it, was this story I wrote in grade school some forty years ago.

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The text reads as follows,

My Magic Carpet and I

It was just another day when I was reading my Spider-man magazine, when I turned the page and I saw an advertisement for a magic carpet for $10.99. I had my money saved so I sent in for it.

Three weeks later they sent me a yellow and red magic carpet. There was only one problem though, I didn’t know how to drive. Then I said, “I sure would like to know where there is a driving school for magic carpets,” Right then my magic carpet took me up in the air. It stopped in Egypt where there was a sign saying ‘Go to Jonny’s flying carpet school’.

So I walked in with my magic carpet and asked how much it cost.

The cashier said, “One dollar please.”

“Hmm, that’s cheap,” I said, “where should I go to?”

“The right please,” the cashier answered.

“Will you come in?” asked a man, “my name is Jonny and you would like to know how to ride a magic carpet do you?”

“Yes.” I answered

“The secret is just to tell your magic carpet what to do.”

“I know that, but, what about all the other stuff like the clutch?”

“Strictly for show.”

I left with a dollar down the drain.

But I kept my magic carpet. From then on it was just my magic carpet and me.

Momi Ford              

My Work Families

Having spent the busiest month of my work year in order to join my siblings to care for my 88-year old mother as we transitioned her over to assisted living, I found myself entering a hidden world of elders where so many extraordinary tales were waiting to be told. I’ve hashed through my mind several chapters and standalone stories worth their weight in gold. But today, a different one emerges.

One thing I realized both when I was gone and especially when I returned, was how extraordinary my co-workers were during my absence. I always knew I worked among a group of people who care about each other and have each other’s backs, but I had not experienced the impact of it firsthand until now. Many reached out when I was gone to provide support and assurance to not worry about work. Others offered more words when I returned and had to find my footing once again. So many picked up the extra weight that comes with the start of a Fall semester at a university and shined while doing so.

As I thought about my local work family, another one, full of colleagues from other universities who I meet with regularly and who also sent me words of support and encouragement during this time, came to my attention.

As I was heading to bed last night, I received an email from the Program Manager of my Higher Ed Forum, a group of higher education professionals in the IT Help Desk industry that meets three times a year at various schools throughout North America. We meet and engage in intensive meetings on the latest topics of interest in our profession, share ideas, and open our campuses and hometowns to each other. We work hard and play hard together and grow close in the few days a year we connect. We come from all walks of life and backgrounds, yet find a common thread that makes it easy to share and open up to one another. We have seen each other go through marriages, divorces, sickness, childbirth, losing loved ones, and now, losing each other.

When I saw the email reach my inbox with the subject line of “Sad news”, I thought for a moment that someone was leaving the forum. I didn’t expect to hear that Rion Morgan, a young and brilliant light of a man, was one of the victims of the Plano, Texas shootings this past weekend. I had only met Rion on a couple of occasions when he attended meetings, but he was quick to participate both in our professional discussions and our after hours gatherings. He had a smile that was contagious and a warmth that made you feel like you had been longtime friends.

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One of my absolutely favorite nights out was in November 2015 in Fort Worth, Texas when our forum met at Texas Christian University. We had just completed a Vertical Lessons leadership program with Manley Feinberg which included “mastering” the indoor climbing wall at TCU.  A group of us found ourselves wandering the area after dinner and landed at the Fort Worth Water Gardens. It was dusk as we walked down into the gardens and I remember Rion very quietly and sweetly offering me a hand as I found my footing down the steps in the dark. When we came upon the Mountain sculpture, of course, we decided it was an opportune moment to scale it.  It wasn’t until afterwards that we noted it may not have been the safest thing to do in our street shoes (Belay off!) when we saw the “no climbing” sign on the wall. If there is one thing about this group, it is that you always go home with a story!

I didn’t know Rion well, but I will always remember his light and he will always have a special place in my heart and be a part of this extraordinary family.

RIP Rion

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About this blog…

Why dog hair? It’s annoying. Try as you might, you can’t vacuum it all. It clutches the fabric, mocking you, reminding you that nothing in life stays pure, unmarred, unchanged. But when you look closely, you might just find relics of love, adventure, friendships, life. Even the most miniscule remnants are reminders of those who brought us joy, who passed in and out of our lives, who challenged our faith and broken our hearts. So little in life goes as planned and even less can be controlled. We can obsess with trying to remove unwanted history that scars the landscape or choose to embrace it like the Velveteen Rabbit that it is and explore the path it blazes, creating our stories, in our own crevice in the couch.

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