So rummaging through a chest of plastic drawers in the upper deck on the rear starboard side of my old raft, I found a couple tennis balls. These weren't just any tennis balls, however--these were the last of them. At one point, I probably had 30-40 tennis balls aboard my old raft--and I've never really played tennis--but I believe all but these two have long been tossed into the river...or maybe some of them into the woods, when I felt like seeing just how far I could throw one. Not that far, it turned out. The world is certainly a better place not having me in the outfield of a Major League baseball team--or even little league, for that matter. Perhaps tee ball, yes...I believe I could excel at that. I'm starting to think I will digress in every chapter of this journal, though I swear it was never my plan or intention.
Before Weasel and Butterfly had come into my life, I used to take my canine companion for late night walks after work. Our walks would often lead us near the tennis courts at my old high school, where, to this day, instructors give tennis lessons to kids during the summer. One night, on one of our walks, I found a tennis ball in the grass...then another one under a tree...and another one in a bush. And I even spotted a tennis racket stuck on a branch very high on a pine tree--and used one of the tennis balls I had just found to knock it out of the tree (it took many, many tries, of course!). So my collection had started, and my tradition of hunting for tennis balls lasted for many years. My canine companion Sheba, of course, loved the tennis balls, and we got much use out of them--that was my official excuse for going tennis ball hunting, though there has always been enough of a boy left inside me that I have a fascination with objects that are found. They become special to me.
The accumulation of tennis balls I had amassed coupled with the racket I had acquired caused me to consider actually learning how to play tennis some day. It was a brief thought, and I never did follow through. I did go to the tennis courts late at night a few times when no one else was around, and knock the balls around...but that was as close as I ever got to playing tennis.
When Weasel and Butterfly were old enough, I passed the tennis ball hunting tradition on to them. My canine companion was still with us during the first few years of their lives, so that was still my excuse--we were finding tennis balls for Sheba...and sometimes we'd cheat and use the tennis balls ourselves. That was allowed--and, in all honesty--sometimes encouraged. Wouldn't it just make the perfect story now to say that this sparked an interest in tennis among Weasel and Butterfly and that they are now very dedicated & gifted tennis players? It would be fiction, for sure. We did find a second racket on one of our hunts--I think it was Butterfly that spotted it in the bushes (I can't remember for sure)...but that was as close as any of us got to becoming tennis players. But Sheba was very happy having more tennis balls than she knew what to do with, and so were we--that was enough for us. Maybe there is a lesson in that for me (have you noticed how every chapter so far has had a possible lesson in it for me? That also was not planned). And, in case you're wondering, yes--both of the tennis rackets are still currently aboard my old raft.
You've probably guessed that the picture preceding this journal entry is from one of our tennis ball hunts. It is. We did find a few tennis balls that day, I remember. Also, during the same hunt that day, I had taken a picture of Butterfly that became my dad's favorite of her...he liked it so much that he had it framed and it was displayed (per his request) at his memorial service in 2007. As a side note, the little Cubs dress Butterfly was wearing in the picture still hangs upon a rod in their closet in the Crumbmakers' quarters. That, for sure, will be transferred to the new raft, when it is built...but I still haven't made up my mind about the last two tennis balls, and the two rackets.
Before Weasel and Butterfly had come into my life, I used to take my canine companion for late night walks after work. Our walks would often lead us near the tennis courts at my old high school, where, to this day, instructors give tennis lessons to kids during the summer. One night, on one of our walks, I found a tennis ball in the grass...then another one under a tree...and another one in a bush. And I even spotted a tennis racket stuck on a branch very high on a pine tree--and used one of the tennis balls I had just found to knock it out of the tree (it took many, many tries, of course!). So my collection had started, and my tradition of hunting for tennis balls lasted for many years. My canine companion Sheba, of course, loved the tennis balls, and we got much use out of them--that was my official excuse for going tennis ball hunting, though there has always been enough of a boy left inside me that I have a fascination with objects that are found. They become special to me.
The accumulation of tennis balls I had amassed coupled with the racket I had acquired caused me to consider actually learning how to play tennis some day. It was a brief thought, and I never did follow through. I did go to the tennis courts late at night a few times when no one else was around, and knock the balls around...but that was as close as I ever got to playing tennis.
When Weasel and Butterfly were old enough, I passed the tennis ball hunting tradition on to them. My canine companion was still with us during the first few years of their lives, so that was still my excuse--we were finding tennis balls for Sheba...and sometimes we'd cheat and use the tennis balls ourselves. That was allowed--and, in all honesty--sometimes encouraged. Wouldn't it just make the perfect story now to say that this sparked an interest in tennis among Weasel and Butterfly and that they are now very dedicated & gifted tennis players? It would be fiction, for sure. We did find a second racket on one of our hunts--I think it was Butterfly that spotted it in the bushes (I can't remember for sure)...but that was as close as any of us got to becoming tennis players. But Sheba was very happy having more tennis balls than she knew what to do with, and so were we--that was enough for us. Maybe there is a lesson in that for me (have you noticed how every chapter so far has had a possible lesson in it for me? That also was not planned). And, in case you're wondering, yes--both of the tennis rackets are still currently aboard my old raft.
You've probably guessed that the picture preceding this journal entry is from one of our tennis ball hunts. It is. We did find a few tennis balls that day, I remember. Also, during the same hunt that day, I had taken a picture of Butterfly that became my dad's favorite of her...he liked it so much that he had it framed and it was displayed (per his request) at his memorial service in 2007. As a side note, the little Cubs dress Butterfly was wearing in the picture still hangs upon a rod in their closet in the Crumbmakers' quarters. That, for sure, will be transferred to the new raft, when it is built...but I still haven't made up my mind about the last two tennis balls, and the two rackets.