AN ANNIVERSARY

 

Today is the anniversary of the death of our daughter, Emily, at 47. I wanted to say something but was at a loss for words. Then I came across a column in yesterday’s New York Times about sentences of the year (the subject-verb-object kind), quoting Washington Post columnist David Frum:

The thought of my own death has never been a distressing subject. We live, we love, we yield the stage to our children. I hoped that when the time arrived, I would have the chance for farewells. If that wish were granted, I could with total content ride the train to my final destination. It never occurred to me that one of my children might board the train first, pulling away as her parents wept on the platform.         

           

A Death In The Family

It happened the weekend before last. A promising young outfielder for the St. Louis Cardinals, Oscar Taveras, was killed in a car accident in his native Dominican Republic. Just 22. Money, plenty of money, for the first time in his life. Driving a Camaro with his girlfriend after a heavy rain. One car accident running into a tree.

The Cardinals are the closest thing this mixed-up town has to a unifying element. When there is a death, we see an outpouring of emotion from the fans, with home-made memorials piled up beneath the statue of Stan Musial, the greatest Cardinal of them all, at Busch Stadium. It occurred when Musial himself died in January 2013 and pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in another car wreck in 2007. Maybe some kind of public catharsis.