Second Chance Baseball Life

He calls me Bob. I do not know where "Bob" came from, but I am becoming Bob. It is not a case of simple failing memory, because he calls me Bob every time we meet. "Hi, Bob!"

I am trying to think of it as a Second Chance.

Today, I learned something else about Bob. "I recall that once you told me you fought in World War II," he began. "Have you ever been in a V.A. hospital?"

Bob has never been in a V.A. hospital.

Senior baseball--you have to be at least sixty years old--is not just about baseball. It is a way to learn something about yourself just at the time when some of the things you knew, and were, are dribbling off into the sand; when you need to discover something new about yourself.

Bob doesn't recall ever having fought in World War II. I do recall marital strife, but that came later, after the War. I am trying to be open to my new identity. We all need second chances. It is pretty sketchy, so far. All I know is that my name is Bob, and that I fought in World War II, at the age of ten, I guess.

I will keep you posted.

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