A Chance Meeting with my Teenaged Dad

I met my 14-year-old dad last night, and it was something.

Turns out, he was a rangy, rascally, smart 14-year-old version of the man I first met when I was born. 

Reading about my teenaged dad's exploits on the Rock Creek Sluggers baseball team made me realize that, until last night, all of my images of Jim Raglin had been adult ones.  It was a bit of a mind bend to imagine him in junior high, traveling to St. Louis to visit his grandparents and catch a Cardinals game.  Apparently, he considered himself quite a student of the game, bringing home what he'd observed on the field to direct the newly-formed, short-lived Rock Creek Sluggers to a respectable one-loss season.

I don't know what compelled the adult version of teammate Carl Faler to write down the story of that 1938 baseball team, but I'm mighty glad he did.  Stretched out over 7 typed pages, there was my father, only a teen, but already showing glimpses of the man he'd become. From the words on those pages, I watched my dad lead his teammates into the belly of the beast--a game against a cross-town baseball team comprised of hooligans and thugs--guide his team to a win and then direct them to run for the hills to avoid  a post-game whupping. 

Thank goodness Carl was a good writer.  He made it easy for me to slip myself into the story, panting frantically in the footsteps of the Rock Creek Sluggers as their adreneline-soaked legs pumped them towards the safety of a malt shop in downtown Independence.  I took a seat in the corner, not wanting to call attention to myself.  From there, I could watch my dad negotiate deluxe malts at a discount price for his victorious teammates.  From there, I learned that, even back then, he had a knack for reaching across the aisle, finding common ground, using humor for good.

It's been over 19 years since my dad died.  I was only 31 then.  That sounds so young today.  He died knowing the mostly-young Jane.  He died the adult man I'd known my whole life.  Last night, I met the young Jim Raglin, the kid with a glimmer in his eyes. 

Once again, even 19 years gone, he managed to build a bridge for me.