Memories

As an adult the memories often go two ways. First off, we are trying hard to give the boys shared memories that they can think back on and smile.

We went to the Harlem Globetrotters show at the First Niagara Center.

And it was great fun. The old gags were brought out and the fans helped play along. The one thing that I remembered was the old water and confetti trick...it came with a twist...there was actual water in the bucket...and they threw it on the crowd.

Right where we were sitting. I was doused pretty good as were the boys, and we laughed. The guy behind us yelled out the F-word in anger.

Dopey bastard.

Yet the second branch of the memory tree came as I considered the only other time I sat on the floor for a real basketball game.

I was seven.

I was the world's biggest Wilt Chamberlain fan. Dad got the tickets and he sat between me and John. I told Sam about it as we sat down.

"Did the Lakers win?"

"I think it was a win during their 33-game winning streak," I said. "It was something like 120 to 104. Wilt tore it up and then sat most of the last quarter. We were about twenty feet from him."

I could almost see it clearly in my mind's eye. A moment later we brought the game up on the Google machine.

My memory was pretty good.

It was the Lakers 28th straight win during that 33-game streak.

I missed the final score by a mere four points.

As Sam watched the Trotters and laughed along with Big Easy and Moose and the rest I thought of Meadowlark and Curly.

I thought of Wilt and Jerry West.

I thought of Dad and John.

It was worth the free bath with the ice cold water.

"That was fun," the boys said as we filed out.

I betcha' a lot of money that Sam will remember the final score.

If not, I'll write it down for him.

112-106.

Ah hell, it'll probably be on Goggle for all-eternity anyway.