Making Memories

Making Memories

Pull up a chair and sit awhile

July 30, 2026

Dear Friend:

Summer evenings had a rhythm all their own. Somewhere in the neighborhood you could hear the crack of a baseball bat, the cheers from a nearby field, or the familiar voice of a game playing on a transistor radio.

In our family, sports weren't just something to watch—they were something we lived

My dad had played semi-pro basketball after returning from World War II, so sports were woven into our family long before I understood why they mattered. My brother loved baseball, Dad loved just about every sport there was, and even my sister played volleyball.

When people ask if I was a baseball fan, I never know quite how to answer. I didn't memorize batting averages or argue over statistics. What I remember are the moments.

I remember sitting on the back steps with my Dad, brother and the dog listening to games on the portable radio. I remember sitting in front of the television while my brother paced the floor during a close O’s game, too nervous to sit down.

Every now and then we'd make the trip to Memorial Stadium. I can still remember walking through the tunnel and seeing that brilliant green field for the first time. Somehow it always looked bigger than I imagined. As the players took the field, the excitement spread through the crowd. Every crack of the bat sent thousands of fans to their feet hoping this would be the one that sailed over the fence—or maybe into someone's waiting glove.

My brother and I spent a lot of time playing catch in the yard.  One day my brother took me down to the neighborhood playground. My brother's friends were in the field playing baseball. These boys were not happy to see a girl walking onto the field. I still remember throwing the curve ball that convinced the boys to let me play.

Even one of the Sisters at school occasionally joined the boys for a game, reminding us that even in Catholic school, sports had a way of bringing people together.

Looking back, I realize I wasn't just watching baseball.

I was watching my family.

I was watching my father cheer, my brother dream, and our family spend time together in ways that seemed ordinary at the time.

Those are the moments that stay with us.

The score has long been forgotten. The players have changed. Memorial Stadium is gone. But the memories remain.

Perhaps that's what family traditions really are. They aren't just about baseball. They're about making memories that someday become the stories we tell our children and grandchildren.

What family tradition brings a smile to your face?

Tell us about those cherished family moments.

Until next time, stay well, stay safe, and stay connected to those you love.

Be well,

Emma

Emma is the voice behind Sharing with Seniors, where every story starts with a memory. Through stories of family, friendships, music, traditions, hometowns, and life's simple pleasures, she invites readers to pull up a chair, stay awhile, and remember the moments that have shaped their lives.