Rick, and others...... My Mom threw out my baseball mitt.... (Long after I'd left it behind and gone to university, I admit...) But I was mortified when I went upstairs to my bedroom, and didn't find it there..... My mom's father had played for the Tigers.... His eldest daughter had been killed (playing "catcher") by a baseball bat.... My mother played second base... My brother was a catcher..... I played short stop....... I wish I had my baseball mitt.... I know what poem I'd write in it. Cheers, XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXO P > >I actually have a baseball mitt with poems scrawled in green ink all over it. >Of course, I was the one who scrawled them there. I put the "John Keats/Put >your scarf on" one across the fingers, and the "lemon yellow scar" one all >over the palm (see how nicely that works?) and a bunch of Baudelaire and Eliot >... and on my first attempt in centerfield with the wildly artistic, >appropriated pretentious fan sentiment of a glove the ball glanced off the >green-inked fingers and hit me in the eyeball. It hurt like bejesus squared >and then I could only read the poems with one eye. So remember that before you >go out and buy that red hunter's cap. > >rick > >