Harold Winters found a bicycle in the garage of his son’s home and smiled with glee.  As he mounted the Schwinn 10 speed, he spotted a ratty old baseball glove and snatched off the wall with his cane. Then, he set off for his favorite spot, his favorite seat, his favorite tree, just to the right of the center field scoreboard at Lansdowne Park. It was Christmas Day and Harold Winters was going to a baseball game.

Just passed the fountain and the rotary circle in the center of Lansdowne was a cut through lane that went though the woods and to the back entrance of Lansdowne Baseball Field. Harold was so excited to see a baseball game. It had been some time since he seen a live game and he was eager as ever to climb that tree and into his swinging seat. Harold and his Dad had constructed that seat with some heavy duty rope and booth seat from a recently bankrupt diner in town, so it was built to last forever (according to Harold’s Dad).  Not wasting a moment, Harold biked through the cut through, up to the park’s back entrance, parked the bike, and headed towards the best view in town of Lansdowne Field.

“Anyone seen him?” asked Jobe Winters, Harold’s son. ”Daddy,” yelled Anna Winters, Jobe’s daughter, “the garage is wide open, and my bike is missing.” Jobe walked out the front door of his home and walked into the garage. He looked at the wall where his baseball glove normally hung and noticed it was gone too. ”Come on everyone, let’s go get Dad. I have a pretty good idea where he is.”

Harold approached the tree and looked up with a childish smirk at the swing he and his Dad made, the one he had sat in all those many years ago as a kid. With his eyes closed, Harold climbed into the tree the only way he or anyone else he knew could. Knot by knot, by memory, like riding a bike – Harold Winters put up his right foot and grabbed a branch. Then, he pulled himself up while pushing on the knot to get to the next knot with his left foot. Then, he reached across and grabbed the rope to the seat and swung it towards him. Then, he successfully climbed over to the rope with his body, then slid down the rope, and into the swinging seat which hung about 8 feet off the ground. And there is was in front of him. Harold thought for a moment, ‘Lansdowne Baseball Field and wow, there just so happens to be ball game playing, and just look at that view.’ 

As Harold sat down, he swung his legs out to get the swing moving. Then, raised his glove up in the hopes a gigantic home run blast would land in his lap. It was a beautiful early evening and the stadium’s lights were just coming on. The roar of the bleachers filled Harold’s ears. The baseball game sights and sounds filled Harold’s heart with joy. He swung and swung like a teenager and grinned from ear to ear watching the baseball game.

“Found him,” exclaimed Jobe as he pulled up the paved driveway to the back of what was once Lansdowne Park. ”There is my bike, Daddy,” declared Anna. Jobe had his high beams on in the foggy Christmas night and spotted his Dad. ”And there is my Dad.” Harold Winters had found a park bench next to a tall tree in an open spot currently under development. He was staring at a fence which divided the now Lansdowne Condominiums with the soon to be Lansdowne Shopping Mall. Harold was sitting around the spot where Jose’s Tacos was to be built later in the Spring. ”Daddy, is Grandpa ok? He’s sitting staring out into space or something.” ”He’s watching a baseball game,” said the kind voice of Lilith Winters, Harold’s wife of nearly 50 years. ”He’s at peace. Have a heart, it’s Christmas.”

In his mind, Harold Winters was watching a baseball game. For many years now, Harold watched games all day long in his shared room at the Veterans Home. He would stare out the window for hours, sometimes missing meals and pills, much to the dismay of the hospital staff and his family. But, he wouldn’t miss an inning, not baseball, not for a pill or another peanut butter and banana sandwich. All Harold wanted at this stage of his life was to watch a live baseball game. So, when his son would pick him up for the holidays and take him home for the day, Harold would find a way to sneak out to the park and the tree and to watch a game, albeit in his own mind.

“Come on Dad, let’s go, we are tired of this. It’s Christmas and I have guests,” yelled Jobe with a very unChristmas like tone. ”C’mon Grandpa, there is nothing out there, let’s go!” yelled an annoying Anna Winters, completely unsympathetic to her Grandpa’s condition. ”One more inning,” Harold replied back. ”One more inning, Harold,” said Lilith with a softer more understanding tone. Harold sighed and smiled at the baseball game action and closed his eyes. He knew how to get out of the swing, few did. Placing both hands on the rope, he pulled himself up and up with both sides, then swung onto the right side rope. Then, swung himself back to the tree, and reversed the knots to climb down. Jobe, Anna, and Lilith watched him perform this while sitting on the park bench and they cheered him on as he made it “down the tree safely.”

Lilith scolded her son and granddaughter and told them to be nice. ”So, what was the score,” asked Anna sarcastically but feeling like that was being nice.  “Yeah, who won Dad,” asked Jobe with a similar sarcasm. ”Was it a good game, Harold. Did you get to see your favorite player?” asked Lilith with a much more genuine tone. Harold, cane in one hand, glove in the other, walked towards the car, stopped to answer the only one he felt was being genuinely nice and in the Christmas spirit, smiling at Lilith before he kissed her on the cheek, “I did.”

Merry Christmas to all!!!