Baseball bat

We appreciate objects that help us create and those items that help us remember. and oh what the boys find in our house.

this particular bat lived at my grandparent's farm house (vic & anne's).

i remember how competitive and feisty my grandmother was. 

a WWII war bride she never took on american citizenship. she would play baseball though and damned if she didn't play for keeps.

we grandchildren would be out in the yard and she could bat and pitch with the best of us. 

around 1980 she lost one of her legs. that didn't stop her. fit with a prosthesis she could would still cruise the front yard diamond at a good clip. we never took it easy on her either (a bunch of shit head boys looking to show up the old lady), throw a fast ball and she would still whack it.

since the bat was rediscovered in an outbuilding the entire house, barn, buildings and even the trees are all gone now. turned back to open fields. very strange to go drive by and see this open plain.

this weathered bat is still one of my strongest means to some pretty awesome memories, despite the constant threat of time erasing its free recall and the space that has already wiped it clean.

one of my next projects: the bat will soon be to house it on a hanging single gun wall rack. the kind that stands the gun up. i can joke with the boys that they can use it for any intruders. give the bad guys a trip to the hospital with a load of slivers.