We were watching the World Series on TV but were out of the room when Buster Posey hit a home run. Cued by our neighbor’s shouts of joy, we knew something good had just happened. We hit the reverse button and let Buster start over.
It was delicious to sit there, watching Buster and knowing what was to come. That he was about to swing and not miss, but slam in a two-run home run. I watched his face and thought, oh, Buster baby, you are going to be so happy in just another moment. Your fans were worried about you, our shining hero, not doing enough dazzle in the World Series. Why did we ever doubt?
Of course, it got deliriously better, the Giants swept the Detroit Tigers to win the World Series and Buster jumped into the arms of miracle pitcher Sergio Romo and there was dancing in the streets of San Francisco and I got to rush outside and ring my victory cow bell. And Detroit, who was supposed to win, slogged home in the rain.
Now baseball’s over and there’s that next big scary contest to be settled in a few stomach-churning days.
Everyone is ready for the election to be over. We’re sick of the phone calls and the mailings. One of my friends, weary of political phone calls, has taken to halting the solicitor mid-script by saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry. She died. It was just horrible.”
I feel her frustration. We got those phone calls during a crucial Giants game. Did they not know what they were interrupting? Then I became one of them. I sat at a phone bank one Sunday calling voters in Wisconsin, hurriedly explaining I wasn’t asking for money. Just want to discuss what issues are important to you in this election, I said nicely.
“Lady, do you realize you’re calling in the middle of a Packers game?” Click.
I live in a blue town in a blue state and have mostly blue friends. We could just tell each other to believe. Maybe that would work. There were many “Don’t Stop Believing” signs in the Giants stands. But there were “Believe” signs in the Tiger stands, too. Believing was very popular in the World Series. So was wearing orange. It was a good luck color for both teams. But one lost.
We had a really good first rain of the season in October. It was the kind that makes people around here smile because you can stop watering the garden. The lettuce will deliver a little longer. The marigolds will stay bright. The Giants won the pennant in such a lovely rain.
Then Hurricane Sandy chopped up the east coast and made a person rethink rain. The monster killer storm was more wrath than Mother Nature usually delivers. And it wouldn’t end there, we heard.
A geo-physicist from Columbia University was on the radio talking about hurricanes and rising sea levels and climate change and wake-up calls. “The question,” said Klaus Jacob, “is how many wake-up calls do we need to get out of our snoozing, sleeping, dreaming warning attitude?” We need action, he said.
Which takes me to next week and wondering what we’ll wake up to. Will we be sitting there with a soggy sign that says “Believe.” Or tossing confetti and ringing cow bells?