The Kid, Home Runs, and Memories

The great Joe Posnanski recently wrote a blog post one of the first great book he ever read, The Kid Who Only Hit Homers.  I often relate to a lot of what Mr. Posnanski writes about, but this was other worldly… that was also the first great book I ever read.

I remember the story exactly.  I went to the Midland Park (New Jersey) Public Library. The children’s section was downstairs.  The shelves were lines with books.  There were so many that I didn’t even know how to begin looking for a book or what I even wanted to read.  To be honest, I don’t even remember why I was at the library, maybe my mother brought me there, but the task of finding anything in this warehouse of books was too overwhelming.  I didn’t even know where to start.

I sort of remember asking the librarian for help.  She asked me what I liked.  Now, that was easy.  I had only one answer – “Baseball.”  The librarian then led me to the Matt Christopher section of books.  “You’ll like these,” she said.  I believe she even handed me The Kid Who Only Hit Homers, if not, that was the book I found and took home.

I loved that book.  I read it cover to cover.  It’s the first real book I ever remember reading.  (The first book I ever read was the classic Crash!, Bang!, Boom! but that was just pictures and sounds put together.  I do remember looking at some of the illustrations, making the sounds in my head and realizing that the letters corresponded to the sounds. That is how I first learned to read.)

After reading The Kid Who Only Hit Homers, Matt Christopher became my first favorite author.  I read many more of his books, but I don’t really remember any of the others.  It was the first one that left an impact.  I’ll forever love The Kid Who Only Hit Homers.

I loved that book so much that when my best friends and I created imaginary baseball teams that played in my back yard, I chose the main character from the book, Sylvester Codmyer, as my right fielder.  (Matt Christopher spelled his last name differently.  I attribute this to my poor abilities as a kid to make the effort to spell anything correctly.)

When we played, we’d assume different batting stances for each player.  Over time these guys developed characteristics.  We’d talk about them as if they were real baseball players.  We kept their stats.  I drew pictures of them and made baseball cards for them.  (This was one serious Wiffle Ball league.)

But Codmyer was the (imaginary) player I loved the most.  He batted fourth and I always gave just a little more effort when he was up.  I know that he led the “league” in home runs and that he became the All-Time Home Run King.

All because of a book…and a smart librarian who knew how to get a little boy excited about reading.


With this memory of a book that impacted me as a child, I started to think back and try to recall the imaginary players that were part of my youth; the stars on my Wiffle Ball team some forty years ago.  I wondered if I could still recall the heroes of a young boy’s over-active imagination…

And it proved to be all too simple.

It’s funny, I haven’t thought about these guys in ages, but I guess I’ll never forget them. in a way these guys were as much my baseball heroes as Nettles, Munson, Reggie, and Guidry.  I once had a Wiffle Ball signed by all of these legends.  (The pretend guys, not the real-life Yankees.)

The New York Red Birds

P – Righty Henderson

C – Lefty Johnson

1B- Jim Friendly

2B – Shawn Maloney

SS – Jim Duffy (He was a switch hitter, which was funny because the only kids I knew threw right-handed.)

3B – Sid Grayson (I am quite certain I got his name out of a children’s book as well, but I’d be darned if I remember which one.  I knew I also had book by John R. Tunis, The Kid Comes Back, but for whatever reason I could never get into it.  The story proved elusive to me.  I tried to read it countless times but never got past the first few pages.

LF – Sam Wings (He batted like Reggie Jackson)

CF – Joe Glass (He batted like Oscar Gamble)

RF – Sylvester Codmyer (He batted like me.)

When we played Wiffle Ball, I was, of course all the players, but I think I was mostly Sylvester Codmyer.

The fact that I remember all of this makes me think that maybe there is still a (big) part of me that never really wants to grow up.

A Sense of Wonder

I came across a passage that suggested that we should always “maintain a sense of wonder” in our lives.  I love the idea of seeking wonder, or magic, in the mundane.  

Life isn’t always about the things we have to do, and even when it is, that doesn’t preclude us from seeking the good and something special in every situation.  This is important to recognize and acknowledge because there can be good everywhere and at any time.  It’s simply about maintaining that sense of wonder.

 I think, often, that we rush through our lives.  We get so busy shuttling ourselves and our kids back and forth to so many activities and events that we often don’t stop to appreciate each of these experiences.  We get so caught up in rushing around that we really don’t even consider what it is that we are going to and from.  All we know is that we’re rushing and there is something more to do.

As I consider this, I’m not advocating doing less.  That’s not in my nature or character.  I can’t do less.  (In fact, I’m always trying to do more.)  But, I am suggesting that we add an element of attentiveness to the activities that we are participating in because when we do this, the activities become more meaningful. 

Maintaining a sense of wonder (or looking for good in the mundane) isn’t easy to do:

 – It isn’t easy to find the good as your kid is playing right field, and then striking out three times on a forty-two-degree day in early April. 

 – It isn’t easy to do when your child is struggling through word problems with a tutor. 

 – It isn’t easy to do when you are at one location and know you need to be somewhere else. 

 – And it isn’t easy to do when you have other obligations that are all screaming for your attention. 

But I am saying that we should try, because there is always another perspective:

 – That child playing right field is part of a team.  That’s something special.  She wears a uniform (or a t-shirt) that signifies that she’s on that team.  That’s also something special.  There is something good and valuable and wonderful about being on a team.  And, while it seems that teams and games will be part of your child’s life (and your lives) seemingly forever, it’s not.  It all ends, far too quickly. 

 – There’s also something special about struggling through any endeavor, even word problems.  In the example above, watching a child struggle can be frustrating for a parent.  But it is that very struggle that teaches the child such important life skills as perseverance and tenacity.  And, when the child finally succeeds; well there is magic in that.  That’s learning.  Throughout that child’s life there will always be struggles and things he has to work through in order to understand.  There is good there.  When we take the time to maintain a sense of wonder, we remember and recognize that.

 – As for the other obligations that are all screaming for our attention, the sad truth is, most often, they can wait.  The text, the phone call, the e-mail…most often, they can wait.  And there is a benefit to this because if we rid ourselves of unnecessary distractions, it allows us the space and time to maintain the sense of wonder in our lives and in our children’s lives.

 And, when it comes to our children especially, there is so much wonder there, that our focus should always be on capturing it, gathering it, and cherishing all of it in our hearts!


Where will you find the wonder today?



January 21 will be here soon.  It’s a big day for some people.  Many famous people were born on January 21. 

These include:

Charles V, King of France, born on January 21, in 1338

Ethan Allen, a famous American general, in 1738

John C. Fremont, “The Pathfinder,” in 1813

Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson, the Confederate General, in 1824

Christian Dior, fashion designer, in 1905 Continue reading “Birthdays”


Some readers of this blog have wondered where I have gone.  It seems I’ve gone missing…but, in actuality, I’m right here.

When one is a writer, he writes.  And I have been writing a lot, just not on this blog.  It’s a temporary absence because of some great writing news.

Continue reading “Missing?”


(Last week, I returned home from a rigorous backpacking adventure with eight Boy Scouts and three adult leaders at Philmont Scout Reservation in the mountains of New Mexico.  Philmont provides the ultimate in scouting experiences.  The challenges are many.  The mountains are high.  The dangers and life experiences are real.  A crew is put out on a trail and expected to backpack, camp, cook, and hike over a trek of many miles (this year we went over 90 miles)in about 11 days. 

At Philmont, boys become men as they battle self-doubt and overcome challenges they never even imagined.  The leaders also grow in profound ways as they encounter heir own challenges leading a group of scouts and facing their own physical limitations and apprehensions .  It is said that one doesn’t return from Philmont the same as when he left.  I think that is true.

I wrote the first draft of the following passage in 2013 after my first Philmont experience.  My youngest son and I decided to go back in 2016 to once again face the hills and delight in the wilderness and mountains and to confront the hardships and difficulties that are at the heart of every Philmont experience.  I will be crafting subsequent blog posts about our most recent experiences in those majestic mountains…

For now, though, the following is a reflection from my first experience at Philmont. )

Let me begin that by saying that although I hiked over 81 miles in tough terrain, on steep hills, in valleys, over mountains, and along canyon walls, for hours upon hours each day, all with a fifty pound pack on my back… I am not really a hiker. 

And, although I set-up a tent daily, and slept in the tent (only to have to take it down, package it and carry it for hours on end, and repeat the process for eleven nights)…I am not truly a camper. 

I lived in the outdoors for an extended period…but I am not an outdoorsman. 

Experiencing Philmont gave me an opportunity to step way out of my comfort zone.  I’m glad I did it.  I was especially fortunate to experience this challenge with all three of my sons. 

One of my sons is already in college.  Another will head off next year.  These are the times our lives when we can make time to be together.  Part of the magic of Philmont was experiencing it with my children.  It was a moment in time that we might never replicate again. 

I loved many aspects of this summer adventure; most of all leading and providing this fantastic opportunity to a group of boys, including my sons.  But, I am in no rush to ever go back.

Will I camp again?  Yes.  Will I hike again?  Yes.  Will I ever go on an extended trip like that again?  Probably not…unless the troop needs me.  (I hope they don’t ever need me…) (Note – they needed me – that was another reason we went back in 2016.)

But, it was an experience – and a great experience at that.  I am proud that I did it.  I am proud that my crew did it.  We prepared them well.  The scouts had the necessary focus, dedication, perseverance, and toughness to get through it.  They were a true team of young men – all who supported and encouraged each other. 

And let me say, from someone who enjoys running stupid distances (I am a marathoner after all), this wasn’t easy.  Philmont pushed me to my physical limits.  It would be difficult to call what I did a “vacation,” but it was amazing.

I learned a lot out there in the Rocky Mountains of New Mexico.  One of the most important lessons I learned about was something I already knew,  but didn’t truly understand because I had never really lived it before. 

I learned the true value of appreciating what we have. 

Truly appreciating what we have.

I learned to appreciate my bed.  I never realized how much I love my pillows.  I learned to cherish clean clothes.  I never knew how wonderful a change of clothes could be.  (Clothes are heavy.  Two weeks of clothes are extremely heavy.  No hiker carries that much clothing.  This means there are days (on end) when we wore the same clothes including the same underwear.  It’s not particularly fun. 

I learned to appreciate soap more than one might imagine. 

I learned to do without a lot of life’s conveniences.  We were in the back woods.  Except for what we carried, there were none of the conveniences from home.  We lived on, off, and with the land. 

We were provided with food.  There were scheduled food pick-ups which gave us the sustenance we’d need for a period of time before the next food pick-up.  We had to then carry the food we would consume.  We would also need to carry our own water.

Water is heavy.  Lots of water is very heavy.  You just can’t carry a lot of water (along with everything else).  Most people carried no more than three or four liters of water at any time.  Sometimes this water had to last for quite a while.

At one point, about nine days into our trek, we had a particularly long day of hiking.  This also happened to be one of the hottest days we encountered.  Our day began at a trail camp (that’s a camp with no staff…we just set up our camp site and were on our own).  There was no clean running water at that site.  The water we had had to last us all night and all of the next day.  In preparation for this, we filled up as much as we could at the previous camp site. 

As that ninth day raged on, and we drank, we all started to become dangerously short of water.  Some boys were down to less than half a liter.  It was hot, we had a lot of hiking to complete (at least two more hours), and there were no camps with any water in our path.  In an emergency, we had micro-pure tablets that would allow us to purify unclean water from streams or other non-potable sources, but this was a process that would take at least thirty minutes for each liter of water.  Alas! The map also didn’t seem to indicate any upcoming streams or lakes on our trail.  Water was in short supply and there seemed little chance, in the immediacy, of getting more. 

Let me pause to take a step back – on most days, we would hike for about 20 to 30 minutes before taking short (less than five minutes) water breaks.  These short breaks were necessary- especially when attempting to hike for an entire day.  These breaks became treasured respites.  They were opportunities to rest the body (while standing), to wipe one’s brow, to re-adjust the albatrosses on our backs, and to enjoy the taste of clean water.  In order to drink, someone would grab our water bottle for us since they were strapped to our packs and were most often unreachable on our backs.  This teamwork made for a strong bond of friendship and understanding.  The sharing of water exemplified true teamwork and solidarity.  We were in this together and we helped one another.

I love iced tea.  I love Pepsi.  I love all sorts of flavored drinks.  Yet, nothing ever tasted better than water at those breaks.  The water wasn’t cold, in fact, most often it was lukewarm, but it was refreshing.  It was our sustenance.  And it was treasured.

On the particular day that we were hiking, as water became in shorter supply, it became my particular focus.  I knew the boys would need water, soon, or we could find ourselves in plenty of trouble. 

Of all the things in our lives, water became the most important.

Because of the situation we were in, our values changed.  Because of a true need, the thing we wanted the most was something that we take for granted almost every single day of our lives.  Water.  Not cold water with an ice cube.  Water.  Plan water. 

We needed something to drink. 

The situation changed our perspective.  The possible danger we faced made us appreciate something that we might never have really ever thought about before.  The situation made us value one the most basic of life’s elements. 

In those moments, we did not think about who had the most expensive tent or the best hiking boots.  The adults didn’t think about our jobs or salaries.  The boys didn’t think about the colleges they wished to attend or their high school grades.  SAT scores mattered not at all.  None of talked about the best cars or the coolest new computer game.  In the big picture of life, those things didn’t matter.

We needed to find water.

This need made our focus shift.  We knew that we might have to share the limited resources we had.  We were all willing to do that.  We learned that friendship and trust are some of the most valuable gifts we can share.  Generosity too.  It is great to be generous when one has abundance; it is greater to be give when one’s supply of a most basic element for survival is dwindling..

Now the story, of course, has a happy ending.  About thirty minutes later, we came upon a small stream.  We took a long break there to shed our packs, fill our bottles, use the purification tablets, and create water that was potable.  We were able to fill our bottles with enough drinkable water to get us to the next clean water supply later that day.

Over the course of the two weeks, there were a number of times we overcame some difficult struggles and found true relief…this was but one of them. 

But as we waited, and hoped, for water, I began to gain a better appreciation for the simpler things in life.  I began to really consider other things that I always valued, but didn’t always consider – and truly don’t always appreciate. 

I thought of the special relationships that I have with my sons.  I thought of the love I share with my wonderful wife.  I considered my parents and my entire family.  I appreciated my job, even with the stresses and worries that come with positions of responsibility.  None of the negative aspects in life mattered. 

When one has the opportunity to begin to appreciate, all of life, somehow, becomes good.  It’s a strange and wonderful and magical reality.  Appreciation brings with it many gifts.  This is but one of them. 

In short, I learned to truly consider and appreciate all of the little things:  support, kindness, companionship, friendship, and love.  Because of my need for water, I learned to see beyond the mundane realities of modern life. 

The need for water allowed me to learn the true meaning of appreciation.

I hope it’s a lesson I never forget.


The Search for a Semmendinger Camera

NOTE – The following passage was originally written in 1998.  This article was published in CASCADE PANORAMA the newsletter or the Cascade Photographic Historical Society in their January 1999 issue.

I have made some modifications to the original article, but, for the most part, have tried to keep this passage true to its original form.


I am a descendant of August Semmendinger, an early camera maker.  For the first thirty years of my life I knew little about August Semmendinger and had never seen any of the cameras he made or any of the four patents that he held. 

The following is a summary of how I came to find, and own, a Semmendinger Camera of my very own.

Continue reading “The Search for a Semmendinger Camera”