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Show THE ZEPHYRSEPTEMBER 1990 PAGE 2 .: them In a footlocker and store quarters. In the fall, when he gets bored with his cards, put thank you. It In a closet Do this every year. Some day hell page two Jim Stiles Id like to talk about baseball cards, movie stars, and crickets. I do not want to talk about the national debt, Saddam Hussein, the price of gas and the Book Cliffs Road. Not now. Not today. I need a break..... Across America there are millions of grown men who carry within their hearts an unforgiving grudge against their mothers. Late at night, we lie under the covers and stare at the celling and ask the same question, over and over. Why? Why, Mom, did you throw away my baseball cards? The celling never answers (nor does Mom). Every summer, from the time I was eight years old, until I became (God help me) a teenager, I spent all my lawn cutting money on, and most of the time left after actually playing ball, tending to my baseball card collection. In April my friends and I would cross the fields to Buechel, to Shaken's Drug Store, to see if the new Topps Series 1 cards were on the shelves yet I kept my cards In a shoebox, sorted by team, separated by a piece of cardboard that bore the name and Insignia of each team. I had a great collection -- - Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Henry Aaron, Yogle Berra, thousands of cards. In the fall, Id carry the box to the basement and store them on a shelf. The next spring, wed start the whole process all over again. The years passed. I "outgrew collecting baseball cards (for the time being). Then one day, It occurred to me that I hadn't seen my card collection In a long, long time. I made the usual Inquiries. My dear mother shrugged. "I havent seen those cards In years, she said lightly. "Who knows? she said after further consideration, "Maybe I threw them away. I stared grimly at this woman who, after all, brought me Into the world. Who I owed my life to. Who always fed me and kept me In shoes and who on some forgotten day In the last decade had taken my entire Topps Baseball Card Collection and tossed It Into the garbage can. I was devastated, but I learned to live with the pain. As the years rolled by, I even about the cards. Only rarely (around World Series time) did I ponder their eventual forgot fate. Were they cremated at the city Incinerator? Are they burled beneath tons of garbage (and other kids cards) at the local landfill? I didnt know. Ignorance Is bliss. And then, about a year ago. Rock Cesarlos Records and Cards In Grand Junction became a regular advertiser In The Triple Play Zephyr. Rock has baseball cards. Thousands of cards. Sealed In plastic, side by side. In display case after display case. A 1959 Mickey Mantle now sells for 95 bucks. I had four '59 Mantles. A Bob Lemon - ten bucks. I try not to look, but I can't help myself. And as a result, I havent made a nickel off Cesarlo yet Ive bought five cards In the last three months that cost more than all the cards that I bought brand new In all the years I collected them. I could be rich right now. I could be at the Chateau Caribbean right now, eating curried lobster and putting It all on my Gold card. But no,.... no Gold card, because those other cards went the way of the Buffalo. I've long since forgiven my mom for her grievous error, however....She's suffered long enough. All this would be pointless If there weren't a lesson to be learned. And the lesson Is this: If you're a mother and your kid Is collecting cards, Indulge his habit Give him extra week with a '58 Yogi Berra and pondered all this as I returned from Junction last In the afternoon on Junction from back a '53 Hoyt Wilhelm In my shirt pocket Driving I can that Imagine. Its always Is one off the most monotonous ways to spend a couple hours to back roads and the return the and exit Cisco east at the Interstate a relief to get off the a Utah Highway was time. not this But my way Blocking bumps and dips and prairie dogs. Into the and August sun. Patrol car; an officer stepped wearily from his vehicle "Hello," I said. "Whats the problem? "Well, they're making this movie In Cisco today, he explained. "Of course, I said. "Thelma & Louise with Susan Sarandon and Gina Davis. "That's right," he nodded. "So you cant go through here. "What? I exclaimed. "You've closed a public road for a movie? That's right, he said. "Look, I argued, "Gina and Susan are old friends of mine. We used to romp together during my Hollywood days at the Alto Nldo apartments, ust a block from Hollywood and Vine.... what memories, I sighed. The officer stared politely. I "Why I'm surprised they havent asked for me, continued. "Dont you have my name on a guest list there? Anywhere? He shook his head. Thirty seconds was about all he could tolerate In this heat He motioned for me to turn around and walked back to his patrol car. "Well, I hope this roadblock Is not being paid for by the taxpayers of this county, I grumbled, as I backed up my car and left When I got home, I told my friend Greenspan about the encounter at Cisco. "Can you Imagine that? he said. "Closing a road for a movie. Those Hollywood all the same. I wouldn't have anything to do with them. are people "Yeah?" I said. "And what If Gina calls? What lf....she asks for you? He reflected briefly. Tell her I'm available. "You bet, I replied. "Maybe we can.... double date. I -70 You'd think that a day of heavy fantasizing would lead to a night of pleasant dreams. But on this particular evening I hardly slept at all. And again, the blame must fall squarely on the shoulders of my beloved mother who always told me as a child, "Never kill a cricket Itll bring you bad luck. For years, I never killed a cricket and I had plenty of bad luck anyway. When I first moved Into this house, crickets did not seem to be a problem. But they somehow sensed they were safe from depredators within these walls, so the crickets came In ever Increasing numbers. After "living amongst them for a while, I dont know why these little noise makers should be given any special consideration. They're like cockroaches on drugs. They crawl out of cracks, appearing out of nowhere, and stare at me from across the room. Any sudden move alerts them. It once took me twenty minutes to surreptitiously remove my shoe (weapon). But as I gripped my Reebok by the toe and moved In for the kill, the cricket ran Its usual erratic pattern across the rug and disappeared Into my floor furnace (echo qualities for chirping are so much more effective down there). On the night In question, a chorus of crickets serenaded me from the crawl space, while soloists moved closer to capture my attention. While I laid In bed with my pillow wrapped around my ears, one brave chirper landed on my chest close up, they're pretty damn ugly. By 1 a.m., I was stalking the house with a can of RAID. I briefly considered the wisdom of an Insecticide-solutio- n. What about the health risks? environmental questions? moral consensus? To hell with them, snarled. I relentlessly pursued my enemy, but I couldn't find them any more. Before I could put my finger on the button and squirt even one cricket, I realized that the noise had stopped. No chirping. Not a sound. I went back to bed....defeated. I pulled the covers under my chin and considered the cricket It's not that killing crickets brings bad luck. Its just that Its Impossible to kill an Insect that Is smarter than a human. I'm so glad I went to college. I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them, but to inform their discretion. Thomas Jefferson I THE CANYON COUNTRY ZEPHYR P.O. BOX 327 (801) MOAB, UTAH 84532 259-777- 3 JIM STILES, PUBLISHER SUBSCRIBE NOW Trish West annual subscription is only production manager contributing writers Jack Campbell, Kris Chick $12.00 Lance Christie Ken Davey, B.J. Eardley, Jane S. Jones Lisa Wolfson , 1990 The Canyon Country Zephyr all rights reserved The Canyon Country Zephyr is a monthly newspaper, published eleven times a year at Moab, Utah. The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of its vendors, advertisers, or even at times of its publisher THE CANYON COUNTRY address ZEPHYR P.O. BOX 327 MOAB, UTAH 84532 |
