Almost all of my dreams and life-desires came true to one degree or another. I also failed at one point or another in the pursuit of all of them in acts of both omission and commission. But, excuse the jubilant, sad truth, stated in an overly stale cliche, I did things my way, along the way, and have only a handful of regrets (futile as regrets are, we feel them nonetheless). My son Joseph went me several pegs higher in all categories. And his son will do all the better in the dreams-coming-true gauge of life.
To achieve most anything in life, one must have been loved and given confidence by someone while young (not often enough does it come from parents, damn them!) from which blooms the self-esteem necessary to stride towards dreams unafraid. I received more than my fair measure from my parents; my son Joseph received so much more of the same from Linda, his mother, and me, throughout his youth; therefore, Joseph Allen Bosco will soar to whatever heights in whatever areas of human endeavor he chooses to go, because he is loved and gently guided by two extraordinary parents, both from extraordinary families from several branches.
Yep, my grandson, Joseph Allen Bosco, not yet 4 months old, has his own website. That is as it should be. He is one helluva youngster with a potential degree of happiness and fulfillment in life damn nigh close to one-hundred out of 100 because of the two people who brought him into this world.
O, I love them so; perhaps this fall we will all finally be together and I can hold one and behold the other with a twinkle and a wink. I wish to meet Baby Joseph the 'baby' before he becomes a toddler come late next winter.
*... Joseph, the father, could put a bat on a ball and pitch (you name it, your choice; including velocity and count) better than just about any ballplayer I ever coached or watched play the game. He broke Will Clark's batting average record in district play in the season of '86 in New Orleans. I, and many others, just wished he could have done it with some power. If only a little bit. However, his rare see-ball, hit-ball ability from either side of the plate made his Have-Bat-Will-Travel career longer than most who play a game that is guaranteed to break your heart sooner or later. From Little League to a 20-year MLB Hall of Fame career, it matters not, because someday someone is going to tell you no, you can't play any longer. And it will hurt--from Pony League to Major League--because it is so much more than just a game.
I am almost walking at grammy's house
Something tells me that Baby Joseph will have that quick, early, inside-pull-hammer swing that gets you a long ball often enough to count when the manager is working out his number one line-up for the season. And then there is the double in the gap the other way; out-front just enough, or plate-even on anything thigh-up a tad on the pitcher's half of the plate, but with the speed to turn at least some of those routine doubles into a triple now and again; and leg a double out of enough would-be singles. All of which keeps the other guys creeping in on you with every nasty spinner or top-drawer burner, rather than creeping back, cutting down your angles, because they know they have an extra second or two to get you at first or turn the double-play.
I think he's gonna run okay, too; he's starting to scoot around pretty good
He has it in the eyes already; he's looking for what's coming. He's eye-balling things over with comprehension and creative wonder at the connective state of things when the wind is blowing his way. He also looks uncannily like a man I loved greatly, Ziggy Powajbo, my now deceased father-in-law, and a great ballplayer before the Second World War took the heart and center out of his professional baseball career. To say that Ziggy (Baby Joseph's maternal great-grandfather) and Don Zimmer were look-a-likes and shared many attributes and philosophies for the game they both loved so much is an instant cliche. Come on, look folks. If that ain't Zim's (and Ziggy's) 'look,' I'm going blind.
Thatta baby--hit it hard somewhere. Maybe they'll drop it or something. Atta boy.
"Baze" and his 'nephew', Baby Joseph
And I want you to meet my other Number Two Son, Craig Bazely; although he always produced when it counted on a ballyard, and was a fine athlete, I love him for being him, for some three dozen plus years now. I was thrice blessed with 'sons.'--and ballplayers. Of course, it was Baze's home run to left, a high-trajectory bullet towards the lake beyond UNO's Privateer Park, with Joseph aboard at second, that beat Jesuit High School for the 1986 district championship. It was the first time a New Orleans public high school had done that in the private-school dominated top athletic conference in New Orleans and Louisiana since 1951--35 years. It must be noted that Baze's rocket gets closer to the lake every time we all get together and drink a few and remember a lot.
