Another season is in the books and we’re another year into the ’20s, which, for better or worse, is still strongly associated with the COVID-19 pandemic and all the issues and inequities it has exposed (like how poorly minor-leaguers have been treated).
And yet I have a feeling that 10, 50, 100 years from now it won’t be remembered that way, just as the 1980s are remembered very differently than how the decade began. The snap or early judgment is rarely spot-on.
But it’s hard to argue that things don’t feel just a littlebitbetter than they did a year ago. Maybe that’s denial, but I don’t think so. My back problems came back with a vengeance this year, and then I broke my elbow (hairline fracture, which meant the old “Doc, it hurts when I go like that” joke was the diagnosis). But I worked through both enough to be able to run again, albeit less far and less often.
In just one year, things have been worse, but things have gotten better. So rather than be resentful for the former, I’m thankful for the latter. As I wrote a few years ago, this is has been a part of my routine for too long and I’m grateful to have a community to serve that seems to like my creativity (or at least tolerates it ;-).
So let’s close out with the annual instructions:
🦃 Stay Safe.
🦃 Show some plate discipline.
🦃 Call your mother.