He was our favorite player. My daughter learned to mark a scorecard watching him play when her dad took her and her brother to games at the Metrodome. My son watched him hit the home run that kept the Twins in the 1981 World Series in the 6th game and got to see him play in the Metrodome as they won the 7th game. He was the inspiration for the kids' baseball passion and I even enjoyed watching him play despite my distinct lack of baseball passion. Our cat is his namesake.



And now he is gone. It's hard to believe. His career ended so abruptly and now his life too. I've read the columns and the press about the outpouring of feelings in Minnesota after his death, and I've mourned him too. I don't know of any other sports figure who could make me feel that way.

When David Letterman was doing a series of Friday night shows where he would have the entire audience be from one area, he chose Minneapolis/St. Paul as one of the cities he would base a show around. He would bring on guests that were important to that area or famous from that area. Of course he included Kirby Puckett as his guest for the Minnesota show. When he introduced Kirby, the entire audience went crazy, chanting "Kirby! Kirby!" It lasted quite awhile. And while that was enough to cause me to tear up, it was Letterman's reaction that really got me. He was so taken aback at the love and admiration for Kirby, he was almost in tears. It was an amazing evening.

I will always remember Kirby playing baseball. Rounding 3rd base, leaping up to rob someone of a home run in centerfield. Built like a sparkplug, he was truly a graceful and great player.

Starting over. Not fun, but not horrible. I know that there are thousands of us 50-something women out there who find themselves starting over at a time in their lives when they thought things would be different.

My story is probably very familiar to many of you. Up until I was 47, I was a busy wife and mother, raising a ballerina (see photo at left) and a rock star, when my husband decided he no longer wanted to be married and moved out of our home into a nice little apartment in Downtown Boston, where he could pursue a "romantic relationship" as he put it.

Shocked is putting it mildly when I found this out. Then horrified, and then distraught. But that was over three years ago. And I feel like I have moved on somewhat. Heh.

I have two children, and they are both on the threshold of leaving as well. In fact, my son is on his own and doing fine.
My daughter is now in Thailand and will soon be heading off for four years or more of college. So at the age of 50 I find myself alone. And perhaps poised for a great adventure.

I'm hoping to journal my thoughts about this new direction my life is taking and see growth with time passing.

And maybe, just maybe, chronicle my growth as a knitter.