I remember well the Fourths when I was 10 to 12 years old in Pittsburgh, where I spent the summers with my father, my grandmother, and my father’s sisters. My father and I would arise early and after breakfast walk probably half a mile to Grandview avenue, that fabulous street that runs along the top of Mt. Washington and looks down on the panorama of downtown Pittsburgh, the Monongahela river below, the Allegheny river beyond the downtown, and the beginning of the Ohio river off to the left. We would take the Mt. Washington incline down to Carson street and catch a street car to Forbes field, home park of the Pittsburgh Pirates baseball team. We would watch the morning game of the holiday doubleheader
It was such a great pleasure for me to be going someplace with my father. The first time we went, he taught me how to keep track of the game on a little card, recording the hits, walks, etc. for each inning. It seems the Pirates always played Cincinnati and they always lost, even though these were glory days when the Pirates won two National League pennants. The big stars were Paul Waner and his younger brother, Lloyd, known as “big poison” and “little poison.” My father always took those losses in his wonderful relaxed, resigned way. It was only a game.
After the game we went home to a special, delicious dinner that my grandmother had fixed. And I was happy. JJG
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