Many a spring and summer afternoon of my childhood was spent just like this. Me, dad, grampa, a cribbage board and Ernie Harwell. All of us enjoying the shade of that old tree, and loving the game of baseball.

You see, to me, the game itself is intertwined with Ernie's voice. Even today, eight full years since Ernie called his last game, when I turn on the radio to listen it always seems an impostor has invaded the broadcast booth. I'm sure that the guys they have on their now are all wonderful people and I'm sure that they are as good, or better than the radio announcers for most teams. It's just not the same. Even though I still enjoy it - even though I still love it - without Ernie's voice, it's no longer sacred. It no longer brings to mind all of those wonderful memories.

But today, thinking upon his passing, I still cherish those memories. I cherish those summer afternoons sitting in the back yard. Those days by my grandma's pool, huddled in the small cabana with my cousins, hanging on every word. Hoping that Lou Whittaker would pull through with a clutch hit. Hoping that Kirk Gibson would knock another one out of the park. Waiting for that strikeout from Jack Morris, that you knew was coming. Jumping up and down in my grandfather's living room while Gibson rounded third after hitting that monumental home run in game 5 of the 1984 World Series. Watching in awe as Larry Herndon caught that last out of the 9th inning, making the Tigers World Champions. And Ernie was there. Every time.

Yesterday, listening to the radio on my afternoon drive home from work, I heard caller after caller talk about their experiences with Ernie. The owner of a small baseball card store that ran into him on a golf course and asked him if he would record an answering machine message for him - and he gladly did. The sound engineer working back stage for a Tigers event that Ernie approached, just to thank him for the job that he was doing. The mother who frequented the same grocery store as Ernie and his wife, who talked about how Ernie always remembered her name, asked how she was doing and always took time to talk to her young children. Caller after caller, letting the world know how knowing Ernie Harwell made the world a better place for all of them.

I did not know Ernie, personally. I never had the pleasure of meeting him. But for me, the reason I had to pause upon hearing of his passing, was because I knew it was time to say goodbye to all of those memories of my own. I miss those days sitting in the back yard with grandpa and Dad. I miss all of it. Hearing Ernie's voice over the transistor was part of it.

So, today it is with a sad heart that I send my love to all who knew and loved him. And to him I say, thank you. Thank you for being a small part of some of my most wonderful childhood memories. God bless you, Mr. Harwell.

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Or was he? Time will tell. But he never got to see much of that out of me.
Now, I just trudge along the tip of the corporate spear and enjoy the love of my family and friends. Not a bad gig if you can get it, but work sure doesn't fulfill me.

Corporate structures and political entities are repulsive to my humours. I thrive on merriment and conversation, and I've never met a sinner that wasn't a mirror.
But I believe in an almighty creator named Yaweh (or sounds to that effect) and I believe in a king of corruption, deception and death named many things. And I believe that Yaweh personified the human part of his infinite existence in a man named Yeshua who settled some old blood feuds with the deceiver and advocated for us to Yaweh. We can learn his simple truth in order to inherit his eternal kingdom with him through love in all its many splendors, as it was shown to us through his life here. The King of Righteousness is my Sovereign. And that's all I got to say about that. Unless you want to discuss it, of course.

I think that those who assert cooercive authority over me are usurpers, except on the most tactical level. Cops are just the cannon fodder for the ruthless rulers of this wicked world, and I wish them no harm. But, I haven't perfected my forgiveness powers to the point that I can wish no harm to the "Great Architects" of this coming holocaust, if you know what I mean

Favorite Movie: Revenge of the Sith
Favorite Book: Rulers of Evil
Favorite Color: Blue
Favorite Song: Six Sixty Six by Frank Black and the Catholics
Favorite Band: Pixies
Favorite Singer: Don Francisco
Favorite President: whichever one had the shortest reign
Favorite Country: Beyond the frontier
Favorite Memory: 05181999, the day I separated from the US Air Force
2nd Favorite Memory: 6/1/1993, my last day of high school
Favorite Beer: Never met a beer I didn't like
Favorite TV Show: Breaking Bad or The Venture Brothers, toss-up
Favorite Female Body Part: Breast
Favorite Game: Civilization IV
Favorite Food: I am a glutton

What are some of your favorite things?

Well, now that I've gotten all the crazy out there; It's a pleasure to know you all and I look forward to sharing, fellow travellers.

Hazim

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