Baseball . . . and family

Doug Davis is a pitcher for my Arizona Diamondbacks. Earlier this season, he was taken out of the lineup when it was discovered that he had thyroid cancer. After a relatively short period of treatment following successful surgery, he came back to the team. Tonight, he came close to pitching a perfect game. That's a game where no one from the other team ever reaches base, whether by a hit or a walk. Davis was perfect almost through the 7th inning. He had two outs and two strikes on a third batter when it came apart. But he eventually won the game after a miraculous catch in the deep outfield by a rookie, Alex Romero, on a hit that would have tied or won the game. A great night of baseball.

My brother turns 75 tomorrow. I talked to him on the telephone this evening. He says he doesn't think much about this milestone but I think he will spend some sleepless hours tonight. I think it's a pretty big landmark date to have reached. As I told him this evening, only 25 more and you get the big 100. He just chuckled.

A cousin of mine, who is the same advanced age as I am (68), has just learned the name of her true father. Neither her mother, the man who raised her as his daughter, nor her grandmother would ever tell her the man's name. Finally, the husband of a half-sister came to her and revealed the identity. She has now met the half-sister and learned of a now-deceased half-brother. She is very happy to finally learn the identity of her father and of her true family identity. I am happy for her. My brother is not. He thinks she should not have pursued it when she first heard of it. Needless to say, the rest of the family, from what I know, disagree with him. But what can I say. He's always been a strange man. He's my only sibling and I haven't seen him for 20 years. We have very, very little in common.

Strange . . . the patterns life has of working itself out.