Summer Baseball on Grampa's Philco Radio

Grampa Williams was part of my life for as long as I can remember. I adored him and I am told I followed him everywhere when I was a toddler. My most vivid memory of him, other than his accident, and his dying in my arms, (Remember how I held a mirror to his mouth to see if he was still breathing?) was of him as he sat quietly at the kitchen table listening to the baseball broadcasts on our old Philco radio. While Mom ironed and listened, too, Grampa kept a complete pencil- written record of the game and every player on the little square pieces of cardboard that separated the layers of Shredded Wheat biscuits in the box. He saved every score card. He must have had a million of them. I can very clearly remember hearing the crack of the ball being hit, the announcer’s excited voice, “And it’s a line drive to the far right field!” or whatever, and then the echoey cheering and always the hushed sustained murmuring of the crowd in the ball park. Vivid! Whenever I hear those sounds, it evokes an instant memory of those balmy summer days so long ago and a strong fond memory of Grampa.