John Dufresne's blog got me going again, as it is wont to do. He writes today about his mother burning his baseball cards in the backyard trash barrel.
My mom didn’t burn my baseball cards but I know she threw them away, God rest her wonderful soul. Before we moved to Hollywood, Fla., (I was nine) from Monessen, PA, I gathered my collection in bulk. My brother had a weekend job buffing the local drug store floor. (Tommy Janoscik, the pharmacist, was our neighbor.) I “helped”; my brother got money and I got boxes! whole boxes of cards! with the gum. Being a Pirate fan, of course, I’d get several Bob Friend cards, many Bill Mazoroski’s, Roberto Clemente, Stan “The Man” Musial (the Cardinal’s family lived across the valley). I’d pick up several Micky Mantle’s at a clip; many biggies. I even had some gold legend cards, Honus Wagner (pictured), like that.
I was the trader man on the block. I could trade for anything so you can imagine the collection I had amassed.
When we moved to Hollywood (no baseball team) I got into other things like swimming and snorkeling. So I guess my mother thought I didn’t need the shoe boxes stuffed with baseball cards anymore. She swore she had no idea what happened to them. Now she’s gone and so are the baseball cards. Could have been my early retirement right there.
