Ploink! The strings of my new racquet contacted the ball with unforseen ease and sweetness! In an instant that sound, the feel of my racquet's swing, and the instinctive quality of my movements instantly unlocked a trove of forgotten supreme physical joy, confidence, and pleasure! Ploink! Just like that, I felt the sheer happiness of being 12 and 15 and moving to return the ball perfectly. I again felt the thrill of always be able to find just enough more to vanquish any opponent. Ploink! Once more, the comfort that came with the feeling that I would always be strong enough to ensure that my life would be wonderful. Of course that was back in Ann Arbor and Richmond, before we moved to California and daddy deserted us and my sister Mike and I had to start supporting mommy and Kristen and Missy instead of going to college. Before my brother Kit left for Viet Nam, before my knee injuries from running track, before my heart was broken, my head injury, and my nervous breakdown at 19. Thud!!
Even so, I ask myself why I waited 46 years to play tennis again. Why did I never quite finish my B.A. in French or my B.S. in Business? Why, (despite having gone forth as a fraud) after a great and successful career as a fundraiser for some of Los Angeles's preeminent arts companies, does my heart feel as though it will break as I write these words. Why, in fact, does writing this blog make me aware of a whirlwind of inchoate feelings? Which of these should I choose to articulate? What emotional approach should I follow? How can I write something that is both meaningful to me and also be interesting to my reader? Open blogging is very different from grant writing because it is so personal. The point is that today a very young and enthusiastic part of myself grabbed the baton to run the next leg of the relay as though no time at all had passed!
Finish this...I think you have more to say, and I'd like to read it.
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