My father just passed away, last Tuesday. He too took many, many wrong turns in life. In 1974, he ran away from his wife and four children living in CT, to hitch-hike to FL with his brother, who was also running from his family. While down in FL in early 1975 (the year of this card), the two were on yet another routine drunken binge at the orange grove where they worked. The tenant farmer got tired of their horses-assery, and drilled my uncle in the head with the butt of his gun. My uncle died. If my dad wasn’t screwed up already, this could certainly do it.

My dad pretty much ignored his kids for the most part, moving all over FL, and GA for years. I found old letters in his disgusting apartment last week in Atlanta. Most of them were from his kids from the 1970s and 1980s, asking when they would hear from him again. And asking if he had changed address again. Scribblings stating how much they loved their father and missed him.

He could never hold a job, ended up in jail constantly and drank himself foolish. In his Atlanta apartment last week, my siblings and I found a pathetic, and exceptionally sad existence. A sad and lonely man was he. The place was filthy. His neighbors said he had no friends or visitors. He ate alone and stared out the single window, alone, every day and every night. He paid his few utility bills with money orders, because he would always bounce his checks and his accounts were all closed. The last few money orders were entered into an envelope left on the table for mailing, atop a bunch of pepper on the table which was likely from his final meal. His handwriting was horribly shaky.

He was an old 63, being on over twenty medications. The apartment was loaded with prescribed drugs and needles for him to take insulin shots. Left on the floor was an empty bottle, save for a splash of green at the bottom, of his beverage of choice. CVS Mint-flavored mouthwash. We knew he drank this stuff all the time. I looked at the back of the bottle and read, “21.6% alcohol”. For $1.90, that’s a big bottle of 21.6.

Many choices. Many years of decision making. Some never find their way.

“Not long after his release from the Rangers, Wright went to Japan and signed with the Yomiuri Giants. He pitched for them for three seasons, but his stay in Japan almost ended before the first was over. Early in that first season, manager Shigeo Nagashima pulled Wright from a game tied at 1-1 in the sixth inning, after Wright allowed the first two batters to reach base. Wright refused to hand over the ball, then charged off the mound and fired the ball into the dugout. He then went into the clubhouse, where he tore off his uniform and threw it into a bathtub, which gave rise to another nickname, “Crazy Righto.” This nickname stuck with him throughout his stay in Japan. Fans and sportswriters called for Wright’s release, but Nagashima, ironically, defended his pitcher.”

it would be interesting to learn where these people are NOW.

I can’t wait for chapter two.