Bozo, the Beatles and Baseball

I remember Bozo

The Beatles

And Baseball…

That in the ramshackle reality of my life at the age of 5,

With bad stuff and separation shattering my sense of safety and security,

That my father and I rebuilt a bond whose formation had barely begun.

Things got gradually better from there and I was too young to even know what went wrong.

But I knew that Bozo and even Captain Kangaroo and Miss Jean loved children.

I knew the Beatles were my Elvises and my Dad watched Ed Sullivan with me and refused to admit his admiration.

But Baseball, that is where we landed.

Hours and hours and hours, we watched.

In black and white.

We shared.

In 2004, I danced.

He was long gone.

But not alone.

I danced with my 11 year old son.

I thought how Dad would have to surrender his sarcastic term of endearment.

They would be the Red Flops no more,

The team he loved to hate.

A love we shared.

And share.