Magical moments

One of the things that I seem to remember most is that involving a first time experience. I vividly remember my first major league baseball game. My uncle Bill VonBehren and my father took my younger brother and I to Comiskey Park to see the White Sox play the Cleveland Indians in 1951. For a lad who was used to playing ball in a pasture with cow patties for bases, witnessing a major league ballpark for the first time has got to be one of most unforgettable moments for any baseball fan.

The things that struck me first were the brilliant colors of the green grass and green walls of the park constrasted to the white of the players uniforms and to the white of the warning track around the outfield. Also, the crack of the bats echoing throughout the ball park was something I had never heard. Another new experience was hearing the roar of 35,000 people reverberate through out the stands and reach a crescendo as Minnie Minoso's home run cleared the fence.

Seeing in real life those players who before were only images on a baseball card also added to the excitement. In those days you could go down next to the dugout before game time and get autographs from the players. Unfortunately, the excitement I experienced from my first major league baseball game has dwindled to nothing today. Prima donna millionaires playing ball have ruined it for me. I guess as you get older you become jaded from having experienced the same thing over and over again.

Another experience that I still vividly remember is seeing the lights of Los Angeles for the first time as I drove in from Arizona on an overnight trip. It was 1961 and I dropped out of college that year and went west to seek my fortune. After leaving my friend Ed (Bird) Dishinger in Phoenix, I left for Los Angeles one afternoon in my 1953 Plymouth. Sometime during the middle of the night I reached the top of a hill near San Bernardino and suddenly and unexpectedly saw the vast lights of Los Angeles spread out before me in the valley below. It looked like a magical kingdom below me with twinkling lights as far as the eye could see. I pulled my car over to the side of the road and sat in awe at the wonderful spectacle.

A final memory which is fairly recent but which I think will be with me the rest of my life occured on Christmas Day 2001. I painted a potrait of a pet dog belonging to Judy's daughter Melanie. I luckily was able to capture the essence of the dog's face in the picture and it is probably one of my best paintings. It was the last gift that Melanie opened up on Christmas Day and every one in the house knew about the present except Melanie. When she opened the present and saw the painting of her beloved dog she was silent for a brief moment and then being so overcome with emotion she began to cry. Her love of her dog Harry was so strong that to see him preserved in eternity in a painting that captured his essence was too much for her.

I have to admit that I shed a few tears as did everyone else who was there. To be able to create something that would move someone to cry with emotion was an overpowering emotion for me as well. It is a moment that I will never forget.

I don't know if there is a common theme in these moments that I have described. However, I do know that each experience was something that involved an emotion that was not planned or pursued. Getting a college diploma, landing a new job, getting a raise, building a new home are all satisfying experiences but they are all planned and sought after. After you reach them, you realize that the accomplishment isn't as satisfying as you had hoped. I guess this gives truth to the saying, "It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive."

One thing that is apparent is that each experience is an experience that anyone could have and it doesn't cost a lot of money. The best things in life are really free.