On The Fly

Zenith Radio “No man is rich enough to buy back the past.” – Oscar Wilde. That thought may be true however, vivid memories at unexpected times can flood the present. My childhood for the most part was very uneventful; growing up in the small Midwestern town of Cuba, Illinois was going to happen anyway with no particular thought or effort on my part. There were many experiences that mirrored the very fabric of life in the 1960s. Baseball reflected the sounds and smells of summer. The ole' timers congregated at Main Street Barber Shop in Cuba, its proprietor Bernard (Cocky) Lyons, a rabid Cubs fan. Monthly, my father would take my brothers and me for our haircuts.  The sweet smell of Vitalis filled the air, the jars of blue liquid with combs on the shelf, and of course conversations about the plight of the Chicago Cubs. This is my first memory of major league baseball. As a young boy my attention was not on the game, really. The game was always backgroun

Wrapped in the cozy warmth of a down bag I’m jolted awake from a deep slumber - nature calls. The silence is shattered by the rustle of my sleeping bag. The sweet aroma of the mountain fills the air, and that ever-present biting crisp air on your cheeks!  The zipper moans as you free yourself, then the struggle to find your wool sweater, pants, and shoes to stumble into the brisk morning air. Another zipper whines as you crawl to escape the protection of your mountain shelter. Quietly . . .  do not disturb  is the invisible sign worn by your fellow campers. Photo: Robert Weldon Darkness surrounds you, it's early morning, late summer. It’s tranquil, except for the soft gurgle of the trout stream that lulled you to sleep the night before.  Finally - clear weather, the rains have stopped; millions of stars twinkle like tiny sparkling diamonds against a pitch-black sky. Orion, the hunter is clearly visible in the eastern sky; careful inspection you can see the nebula glow

In this episode – Over the Rim . . . Early dawn breaks in Arizona; with both arms frantically flailing, I grab to catch my hat. An enormous blast of wind snatched it off my head in a split second. My well-worn "Indiana Jones" style fedora plummets end-over-end hundreds of feet over the rim of the Grand Canyon. Flabbergasted - the moment felt ageless, like a scene from an ole' western movie in slow motion, "Well, there's no way I'll find that hat again!" Tenacity! photo by - Patrick Ball We've just crested Ooh Aah Point on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon in northern Arizona. It's a cool crisp morning, and the wind whips through the canyon like a cyclone. You experience slight dizziness and are somewhat giddy from vertigo, afraid to get too close to the rim. The sheer drops plummet over 3,000 feet. But as time passes, you become accustomed to the wind and the comfort and security of the wide multipurpose trail. Magically you're dr

Baseball’s opening day is less than one week away. Have you made your plans which ballparks to visit this year? How about the American League Central, Kansas City Royals? What a team! Last year they battled the San Francisco Giants in the World Series through seven exciting games. Casual fans may not realize this but baseball in Kansas City has a lavish tradition. Just ask Johnny. At 18th and Vine history comes alive at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City. Johnny - a docent - was seated in the lobby, a felt fedora atop his head, wearing a fine vest, a large turquoise ring on his right hand, and high gloss shoes, Johnny took the time that day to share the following tale he heard Buck O’Neil spin many times. “It was the grand opening celebration of the museum, 1990. My personal hero, Buck O’Neil had invited the stars of black baseball; Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, and Barry Bonds to name a few,” said Johnny as we chatted that Saturday morning. "They all came exc