Baseball in in the air. Andrew is trying out right now for the Little League All Stars team. He is amazing on the field. Very graceful and joyous. It's amusing because parents assume Kris and I are diligent with Andrew about practicing. Not even a little bit. In fact we have some guilt for not practicing with him more. He loves baseball the way a kid should. It's magic for him. It's not corrupted by salaries, steroids, or obscene trades. It's about throwing, catching and hitting. I am not lying when I say that one of my favorite past times is watching a little league game.
Kristopher won diamondback tickets! Get this! His office had a trivia contest for exactly one month. He had to answer random questions everyday. Yesterday he found out that he won 4 tickets with box seats and a parking pass to see the D-backs play the Kansas City Royals play at Chase Field. How cool is he? Super cool!
***Home run, Dearest Vincent***
In the back of my mind I am thinking of things other than baseball. Van Gogh is haunting me a bit. I'm considering his Cyprus trees and some of his letters to brother, Theo. I don't think he was crazy in the least. I really don't. It seems his fatal flaw, (lead based paint theories aside) was being so deeply idealistic. He truly believed he might form an artistic utopia where competition between artists would become unnecessary. Instead, he envisioned an enlightened group sharing and pushing boundaries with paint, imagination, and companionship.
I think he was beautiful. Too innocent, or progressive for his time. And, I know he was human and desired to be acknowledged for his work, but he seemed to struggle with that. He was aware of his desire for an audience, and seemingly tried to rise above, or at least away from it by confronting it head on. That's brave. I love him for risking it. And I love him for leaving us with emotional sunflowers.
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