Hey, y’all! First off: how the hell are ya? Secondly: for some reason I have been logged out of my substack app and it won’t let me back in, so that’s why i’ve been oddly silent in the comment section, and in the chat… I hope to have this rectified soon and i’m sorry for appearing as if I’m not around!
I also have memories of sitting with my Nannie McCallie, first just listening on the radio (she only got WRCB on TV); then when Flintstone, Ga (CHO probably the only person knows where that is) got cable on tv. I love it gave her something to look forward to almost every day in the summer. Good stuff, man. SKEW!
I was (and still am) profoundly indifferent to professional sports like baseball and football. But I did watch the Orioles games after my father had his second open-heart surgery and another heart attack.
I had moved home because of this -- plus my mother had been diagnosed with cataracts and was freaking out. After supper, Daddy would go up to his room and turn the baseball game on. That was my mother's cue to hiss at me "Go upstairs and sit with your father!!!" (Note: She could have saved a fortune on long-distance telephone calls if she had just gone outside and whispered in the right direction. Not her superpower, that's all I'm saying."
So, I'd sit with Daddy. This happened to be the year the Orioles lost the first -- I don't know, thirty? games in a row. As I recall, the batters gave and the pitchers threweth away -- the Birds would have a nice score and then the pitchers ... oh well.
Me: Lawsy, lawsy, lawsy. I could throw a baseball better than that.
Dad: Anyone could. Umph.
Me: They sure are pathetic tonight. And they still get paid?
Dad: They get paid more than I ever did...
Nothing outstandingly intellectual or brilliant but it occurred to me that this is why men talk more about sports than how they feel.
What Dad and I were really saying:
Me: I wish to God you didn't have these G-D heart problems
Cho, I beg you to keep the background music out of your chats. I love listening to you and am a long-time listener of the Skewniverse but trying to focus on what you're saying whilst there is a loop of music in the background makes it really hard. I've gone back and forth about making this comment as I don't want to criticize the great content you put out but I am struggling with the constant music when I listen. Am I the only one?
Lovely story about your granny. That was an incredibly special bond you had with Mrs. Bain. My Dad was a baseball fan and when the baseball drought in DC ended and we got the Nationals, we would watch games together when I visited and would talk baseball during our weekly phone call. He didn't live to see them win the World Series in 2019 but I sure felt like he was with me while I jumped around, yelled and, yes, cried when the Nats won game 7 against the cheatin' Astros.
I also have memories of sitting with my Nannie McCallie, first just listening on the radio (she only got WRCB on TV); then when Flintstone, Ga (CHO probably the only person knows where that is) got cable on tv. I love it gave her something to look forward to almost every day in the summer. Good stuff, man. SKEW!
Breathlessly waiting for Colonel Cornbread. ✌️❤️
I love the book! I'm nearly finished. I laugh out loud. Brilliant and witty.
I was (and still am) profoundly indifferent to professional sports like baseball and football. But I did watch the Orioles games after my father had his second open-heart surgery and another heart attack.
I had moved home because of this -- plus my mother had been diagnosed with cataracts and was freaking out. After supper, Daddy would go up to his room and turn the baseball game on. That was my mother's cue to hiss at me "Go upstairs and sit with your father!!!" (Note: She could have saved a fortune on long-distance telephone calls if she had just gone outside and whispered in the right direction. Not her superpower, that's all I'm saying."
So, I'd sit with Daddy. This happened to be the year the Orioles lost the first -- I don't know, thirty? games in a row. As I recall, the batters gave and the pitchers threweth away -- the Birds would have a nice score and then the pitchers ... oh well.
Me: Lawsy, lawsy, lawsy. I could throw a baseball better than that.
Dad: Anyone could. Umph.
Me: They sure are pathetic tonight. And they still get paid?
Dad: They get paid more than I ever did...
Nothing outstandingly intellectual or brilliant but it occurred to me that this is why men talk more about sports than how they feel.
What Dad and I were really saying:
Me: I wish to God you didn't have these G-D heart problems
Dad: Me too.
Me: I'd fix it if I could
Dad: I know.
I so love Granny Bain. I could feel her joy. Go Braves!
Cho, I beg you to keep the background music out of your chats. I love listening to you and am a long-time listener of the Skewniverse but trying to focus on what you're saying whilst there is a loop of music in the background makes it really hard. I've gone back and forth about making this comment as I don't want to criticize the great content you put out but I am struggling with the constant music when I listen. Am I the only one?
❤️❤️❤️
Lovely story about your granny. That was an incredibly special bond you had with Mrs. Bain. My Dad was a baseball fan and when the baseball drought in DC ended and we got the Nationals, we would watch games together when I visited and would talk baseball during our weekly phone call. He didn't live to see them win the World Series in 2019 but I sure felt like he was with me while I jumped around, yelled and, yes, cried when the Nats won game 7 against the cheatin' Astros.
Got the Audio version on the Audible app. Have a 15 hour drive on Sunday-Monday. From Omaha to Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi
Gonna listen to it during the drive.