For New Yorkers of a certain age, the background sounds of our lives featured the quintessential announcers of the New York Mets. The last of them from the "Amazin Mets" era, Ralph Kiner, a Hall of Fame player in an amazing ten year career, passed away at 91. (Here is my tribute to one of his broadcast partners, amazingly, from 2004.
Hard to believe these giants have been with us for as long (although Kiner, of course, was a Pittsburgh Pirate for most of his playing career).
For readers wondering why I'm going with seemingly maudlin obituaries of men I admire as most of the few posts I still bother to write, a dear friend, just today, coined the perfect "yang" to the "yin" of Barack Obama's signature expression, "Yes we can." That, of course, in the course of quite literally destroying our faith in the power of collective action (thanks, Barack)... is "We thought we did."
In short, in a dying culture, or perhaps a "hospice culture," honoring the greatest among our dead (note who I'm not mentioning) seems as useful an exercise as I can muster. I'm still working on "the Gitmo" thing... the complete lack of domestic public outrage after a dozen years of that abomination as clear a demonstration of a moribund culture as I can think of. But by and large, all I can largely do... is mourn.
R.I.P., Ralph Kiner.