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imagine the kind of world

this would be

if

just like those little hearts

that float up to the top of

our computer screens

like released balloons

whenever we like something

our prayers

did the same thing

and we could see

all of them across the world

through the skies

ascending to Heaven

like colorful soap bubbles

carrying thanks for all things

and love for others

can you imagine??

To welcome Black History Month, Dad shares his memories of baseball – an encounter with his all-time favorite player – and the impact of these memories throughout his life. Thank you , Reverend Dr. Wilson Felix Haynes, Jr. for being today’s guest blogger and sharing your stories and your own father’s stories – and for instilling in your children a deep love of and respect for all people.

I have always loved baseball. As kids in the early 1950s, we played sandlot baseball behind the grammar school at Gilchrist Park in Waycross, Georgia, where Willie Clyde Oxford could hit the ball over the bamboo fence. We all collected Topps baseball cards from the iconic candy case in Haynes’ grocery store – the hub of that blue collar part of town. I still collect baseball cards. 

My dad, Reverend W. F. Haynes, Sr.,  sold peanuts at Old Nine Baseball park as a boy. Old Nine was the number of the nearby railroad passenger stop in this railroad town. Mostly he sold them outside the ballpark, but peanut sellers could go inside and sell their peanuts if they got a foul ball and took it to the ticket booth (I would have kept the ball). He always arrived early and sold most of his peanuts outside the ballpark of the ACL Railroaders, a Minor League team in the Georgia-Florida league. 

Among those players who came early to the park was a player-coach on the oft- opponents Savannah team. This player drove a paneled woodie station wagon and sold all kinds of things out of the back of his car before the game. He had once played Major league baseball and “retired” early, but still loved the game. Dad enjoyed his encounters with this unique ball player and probably bought from him a popular toy of the day – a Duncan Yo-Yo! That player- coach just happened to be the legendary Shoeless Joe Jackson!

I had a conversation with Kermit Carter of Jesup, Georgia, who attended First Baptist Church when I was pastor there. Journalists came from all over to talk baseball with Kermit, a historian of Southern Minor League baseball, who confirmed the stories that my dad told about Shoeless Joe. Kermit, an outfielder on the Waycross team, said, ”Oh yes, I remember Shoeless Joe well. In that park, I caught fly balls off his bat on occasion– when they didn’t go out of the ballpark! He was really something to see.”

Only later did Dad and Kermit learn the full story. 

Ty Cobb, the great Georgia Peach, said of Jackson, “He was the finest natural hitter in the history of the game. He was batting against spit balls, shine balls, emery balls and all kinds of trick pitch deliveries now outlawed.  He had no scientific knowledge about the game. He just swung. He could have been the most phenomenal player ever!”

Babe Ruth said, “I copied his swing, the greatest player I had ever seen.” These quotes could continue about Shoeless. I commend the script writer of the movie “Eight Men Out,” about the Black Sox team for whom Jackson played and was accused in the Black Sox scandal of accepting money and fixing the 1919 World Series. I do not think Jackson was guilty. The famous quote by a kid when Shoeless left the courtroom was, “Say it ain’t so, Joe.”  History validates and vindicates Jackson. Even public opinion did not diminish the recognition of his superior baseball talent. 

My Dad interacted with one of baseball’s greatest players and the most compelling figures of the game and told hundreds of stories. If only he had gotten an autograph!  Shoeless Joe’s signature is one of the rarest of all the great players. I am both proud and envious that Dad had that experience and could share his memories about the memorable players he met at the Old- Nine Park.

My mother’s brother, my uncle A.G. Harris, was one of the nicest people you would ever meet. He owned a Piper-Cub airplane and would give us occasional rides. The Milwaukee Braves spring training camp was near the Ware County Airport, and he gave many of the ball players airplane rides for enjoyment and developed a good relationship with the team. One afternoon, he took me to the camp, where he had some clout and appreciation. I was 9 years old and met the Braves’ best player, Eddie Matthews, who gave me a colorful Indian Chief patch from an old jersey, a treasure I passed on to my son, Ken.  I became an avid life-long Braves fan because my uncle AG treated me to this thrilling boyhood adventure! 

I listened to the Waycross Braves team almost every night on the radio and still remember most of the players’ names. One year, I had occasion to go to Memorial Stadium to watch the Waycross Braves play an exhibition game against the Jacksonville Braves minor league team. Those scenes stayed etched in my memory because the Jacksonville Braves had a young phenomenal player soon to play for the big Milwaukee Braves team.  On that day, Henry Aaron hit 3 massive homeruns over the left fence into the adjacent Newton field. In the coming years, I would run High school track on Newton field and think about that game. I savor that memory and all because of it, I became a lifelong Hank Aaron fan. I followed his career through 715 home runs and more. He became an idol to me in my feverish love of baseball. 

Imagine my excitement when the Braves came to Atlanta! It was truly an act of God just for me! I went to the very first major league game there in the first ballpark when I was a student at Mercer University in Macon (Pete Rose was playing for the Macon team at that time).

Beyond Mercer, I attended Southern Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky in 1966, moving there from Georgia with my wife, Miriam, and our young daughter, Kim. In the summer of my first year, I became the Pastor of the Port Royal Baptist Church just 35 miles from the Seminary. This picturesque village town was situated on the Kentucky River. The sanctuary had beautiful stained-glass and was an ornately captivating place of worship. Attendance ran around 100, and it was a sound economic area owing to cattle and burley tobacco. 

I was “different” and well received. Pastoring there was a fun experience and a tremendously profitable learning time. Lillian Pollard was a great mentor to whom I will always be indebted. One of the best historical novels which receives rave reviews is entitled Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry, poet Laureate of Kentucky and member of Port Royal Baptist Church. The book is the enthralling story of Port Royal, Kentucky.

In September of 1967, our Brotherhood planned a trip to Cincinnati to see the Reds play the Atlanta Braves in the days of the Big Red machine. These men took me to dinner in Cincy and to the ball game, feeling highly optimistic about the Reds’ chances. This was a memorable time shared by preacher and parishioners – a dozen of us on a Friday night at the old ball-park. This would become for me a never- to- be forgotten experience in more ways than one. 

The seats were spectacularly situated seven rows behind the Braves dugout. What a view! I heard the words, “Play Ball!” Time for excitement. 

The Reds’ pitcher, Milt Pappas, hit a two- run homer in the third inning – right over the centerfield scoreboard! Pitchers do not hit like that. But then again, Tony Cloninger was in the Braves dugout. Tony , a pitcher for the Braves,  in an earlier season had  hit two grand-slam homeruns and a bases-loaded double in the same game for the record number of 10 RBIs. My friends were ecstatic and having fun with the Johnny Bench-Pete Rose Reds whipping the preacher’s Braves. But I know how to be a good sport.  The game was thereafter a great pitcher’s duel between the Braves’ Ron Reed and Reds’ Milt Pappas. 

The sixth inning score was 2-1 Reds. Felix Millan (no kin) singled for the Braves. Two outs. Hank Aaron came to the plate. I cheated and whispered, “Lord please.”  There’s no praying in Baseball. Is there? I just had a feeling something good was about to happen. So, I boldly held up two fingers and shouted, “TWO!” indicating the Hammer was about to drop.  They understood that I was arrogantly calling the shot – predicting a 2-run homer.

And it happened! I hollered with excitement, “TWO! TWO!” I was thinking maybe this bolstered a prophetic status as their preacher. 

I hadn’t seen the beer vendor in the aisle. Honestly.  Suddenly, two beers were coming my way. A Baptist preacher with the Baptist brotherhood ordering 2 beers. That ain’t kosher! My brothers knew I had been calling for a two- run homer and not 2 beers. However, they did not make any attempt to halt the transaction. So much for the prophet status.  I think John the Baptist may have consumed some wine to neutralize the alkaline in the water. Fortunately, two fellows seated behind me said, “If he doesn’t want’em, we’ll take em.” God delivered Daniel from a Lion’s den and me from a testy- moment. My friends saw how God intervenes! 

How can a trip to a ballgame get any better?  But it did!

After the Braves hit in the seventh inning, during the stretch time, Morgan Perry, a well-to-do cattleman and person with some Kentucky clout said, “Preacher, come with me.” There was an usher standing near the Braves dug-out gate. He opened it for me to enter and there stood Hank Aaron! Morgan Perry had prearranged this opportunity. He told the Cincinnati- brass about their preacher and his love for the Braves. I had a 10-minute memorable conversation with the Hammer, who had hit a home run in that game! I told Aaron about seeing his 3- homerun game in Waycross at age 10. His eyes sparkled with excitement in that memory, and the bond was immediate. I added that I was pulling for him to win the homerun crown that year. (He did). I had a new friend in that packed moment with the all- time great Hank Aaron, at least for one shining moment. I knew then he was a gentleman and a person of unusual character. As the world knows, Hank Aaron was a vital person in positive breakthroughs in the world of racial relations – always a class act.  The Braves won the game. I had a great time, unintentional Beer-ordering and all – and I got Hank Aaron’s autograph!

You cannot imagine the atmosphere at church on the following Sunday. One person said, “I heard you had a great time at the Ballpark. Did you order peanuts to go with the beverages?”- and lot of other fun comments in a friendly teasing manner. That “awkward” occasion became a time of deepening the human bond with that Church family.  

I returned to Kentucky recently, along with Dink Nesmith, a Georgia newspaperman who wanted to interview Wendell Berry regarding his views on environmental protection. The Sunday afternoon meeting had been prearranged with Wendell. The Church, aware of our coming, arranged for an after- worship dinner for the return of a former Pastor. The dinner was classic and delicious with the choice Kentucky dishes. Dink was impressed. I was reminded 45 years later of the beer- event at the ballgame, all in fun. I find it rather amazing that such simple moments in life, like that ball game, hold the value of a sermon, and sometimes more because it opens the door to be heard in a unique way.  I learned again the need that people have for their pastors to be real and non- pious. 

Back to Aaron.  I have read all the books by and about Hank Aaron. The story of his impact is well-chronicled. Hank Aaron and Jackie Robinson were history-altering people. Aaron’s autobiography, If I Had a Hammer, records the story of his remarkable journey. The Atlanta Braves won the World Series the very year after the deaths of Phil Niekro and Hank Aaron! Coincidental? 

From my own dad’s encounters with Shoeless Joe to my life-long love of baseball, I hallow the memories!

– W. Felix Haynes, Jr.

A poem of whimsy – what a word, what a concept, what a feeling! Thank you to Fran Haley for sharing the http://www.shareourstoriesmagic.com site with me and inviting me to post.

On Saturday, my good friend Adrienne called to see if I wanted to go see the all-new Tootsie at Atlanta’s Fabulous Fox Theater, where the top hatted and gloved, 1920’s-tuxedo-uniformed greeter still rings a bell, holds up his arms, and in his most theatrical voice (drawing out the words), belts out to the throngs awaiting the opening of the doors in the covered black-and-white tiled hallway-breezeway with the red carpet leading inside: “Laaaaaaaaaaadieeeeeees aaaaaaaaaannnnndddd Gentlemennnnnnnn! Welllllllcommmmmmme to the Faaaaaaaaaaabulous Fox Theeeeeeater!” before stepping aside to the almost as theatrical door opening. Regardless of what’s playing at The Fox, I’ll always go – not just for the show, but for the whole cultural arts experience, including the Mighty Mo and the Arabian Nights atmosphere, with its blue night-skylit ceiling complete with stars and ornate decor – and the exquisite restrooms! The place has quite a history with many saviors to thank for its continued breath and haunting ghosts, and it has inspired my Haiku of Whimsy today, prompted by the blog at http://www.sharingourstoriesmagic.com. The Mighty Mo emerges from the floor , with the organ player already piping out beloved tunes – usually in a sequined white jacket draping over the back of the organ bench as he plays to entertain while ticket holders arrive. The crescendos strain more fully in his last number, bringing wild applause as the Mighty Mo and its player descend back into the depths of the orchestra section….until next time. If you happen to be in Atlanta, go see Mighty Mo! You’ll be glad you did.

Mighty Mo Whimsy Haiku

The Fox: Mighty Mo

whimsical Moller organ –

experience it!

I wanted to try

walking barefoot in the snow

even a dusting

thankful for my shoes

can’t imagine grandparents’

hikes to school this way

tin pail lunch buckets

swinging their way up those hills

to learn in one room

*
Rag quilts for grandkids

Stitched with love by their Nana

Hugs forevermore

*

Family heirlooms

Great grandma’s sewing machine

Still stitching strong seams

*

Our Christmas with my son, his wife Selena and the grandkids was delayed from December to mid-January.  I’d been eager to see them and spend some time with them.  Since they live 4 hours away, we don’t get to spend the kind of time I would love to spend with them, but we make trips to see them when we can – it’s much easier for us to visit them than it is for them to pack up four children and three dogs and visit us.  A couple of weeks ago, we made the trip to South Carolina to celebrate, and the day was full of surprises – including a special gift and a Facetime appearance by Mallory as I opened this beautiful gift from them ! I’ve used some words and phrases from a meaningful note they wrote (it made me cry) to compose this Pantoum!  

The Necklace

these three remain: faith, hope, love 

the greatest of these is love (1 Cor 13)

sterling silver and pearl cross necklace 

treasure as a new symbol 

the greatest of these is love (1 Cor 13)

love, faith, grace, and mercy 

treasure as a new symbol 

the start of a new legacy 

love, faith, grace, and mercy 

pass down to future generations

the start of a new legacy 

stories shared, past not forgotten

pass down to future generations

sterling silver and pearl cross necklace 

stories shared, past not forgotten 

these three remain: faith, hope, love

smart schnoodle finds all the puzzle treats

he doesn’t share with his brothers

slides the knob, twists the cover

in just the right sequence

unlocking prizes

as Abba sings,

the winner

takes it

all

Happy Birthday, Mallory! 

Mallory, who is my first child of my Octane Trio born in the gas pump years 87, 89, and 93, keeps the joy alive with her frequent texts that make me smile.

Mallory, whose texts are treasured moments I don’t take for granted. Ever.

Mallory, who 1,328 days ago turned her life around and got back about the business of living.

Mallory, who most evenings sends her siblings and me a picture of the final Jeopardy clue now that we have Roku and don’t have means to watch at the same time like we used to, who’ll say “I got it before they even finished the clue,” and who’ll give us an extra hint, calling out the key word or the date as the dead giveaway. 

Mallory, whose knowledge far surpasses my own in every category except perhaps Famous Poets or 19th Century American Authors. 

Mallory, who keeps us all updated on what she’s reading – something I believe has steadfast roots from her childhood, when we’d pile up in the bed and read books for hours on end – from picture books to chapter books through the years

Mallory, who at 35 years of age, still engages people in conversation about the “chapter book” that she is currently reading (and says this with a straight face) texts: 

I’m reading a chapter book on my Kindle now that has a “Murder on the Orient Express” feel to it. Very engaging. 12 people get snowed in at a very hygge old fashioned inn in NY and there is no service and they lose power. Someone dies and it looks like an accident and police can’t even get there, let alone be alerted that there’s been a death and that’s as far as I’ve gotten but I know there is going to be another murder! The characters are interesting! (I wonder: does she not realize that she, too, is an interesting character?)

Mallory, who’s a people-loving extrovert (I honestly don’t know where she gets that). 

Mallory, who never meets a stranger, while I smile at folks but secretly can’t wait to be back home on the Johnson Funny Farm, surrounded by pine trees way deep in the woods, just me and the dogs and my husband and the wildlife.

Mallory, who is richly descriptive about things, who texted me when she recently had Covid: 

So at this point in my Covid infestation, there’s still some physical sickness, but the mental fog I’m feeling today is terrible. Do you know that feeling similar to deja vu, but not deja vu where for like 2 seconds you feel like you’re not real? That’s the constant feeling I’ve had all day.

Mallory, who takes the time to tell others that she loves them every single day – who sent me this text just recently, out of the blue, just because:

I know we all fall short every day, but Mom, the more I think about everything, the more you amaze me. After everything you’ve been through with us, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have a mom that shows love and grace and compassion! You’re literally the best mother in the world! (I’m not, I know I’m really not the world’s best mother, but how sweet of her to think so and take the time to text me that she thinks so…)

Mallory, who is also kind and compassionate and literally the best sister in the world, who joined hands with her brother and me in leading us to help her younger sister through a tough time and who keeps the hope alive and prays through scripture, sharing:

Mom, I have gotten signs of hope all day through songs and pictures (the hope of transformation) when I passed a memory on my way home, a reminder that I am no longer where I was, I am driving MY car to my HOME. In little ways today, I feel very hopeful. Jeremiah 29:11. Joel 2:25. Hope!

….and later 

Mom, I just got to TJ Maxx…this is the song that the violinist was playing when I got here……And now I’m crying at the TJ Maxx

Mallory, who calls her grandfather and talks with him, who tells me about their conversations: 

We talked forever! He hasn’t been watching Jeopardy and I read him all the finals and let him guess. We talked about those guilty racists from Brunswick in the Ahmaud Arbery case, we talked about Brian Laundrie, the Holy Bird from Amsterdam, I mean everything.

Mallory, who believes without a doubt that she is a champion (and I have to agree that she is one of my 3 top-notch champion kids):

Mom!!! I got a new phone today! I got service with AT&T. This is your champion daughter btw

Mallory, who loves to read and relax sometimes: 

I tried to tell work that because of my massage and chapter book reading afterwards today that I’m too relaxed to be here 😆

Mallory, who is always precise when I tell her I’ll call her right back: 

Ok. I have to hop in the shower in exactly 39 minutes. 

Mallory, for whom I thank God every day as I do all of my children and grandchildren, praying in my electric blue RAV4 prayer chamber to and from work and ceaselessly throughout the day for their health and safety,

Happy Birthday, Mallory! I’m so blessed God gave me you – you, who bring laughter and joy and love every single day. You are a miracle, and I love you!

Mallory, who is a cherished blessing!

one sweet little dog

can change your whole perspective

on how to live life