My father never kept anything for emotional purposes-except once. I was the only one in my family who cared about baseball and I always1watching my heroes at Yankee Stadium. One winter, I wrote down a schedule for the summer dates and dreamed every night. To my surprise, one evening I saw my father 2 it before going out to work.
The following Sunday, he told me, "Let's put away some money into a 3each week, and maybe we can go to Yankee Stadium this summer. "I 4washed out a jar and5a label: YANKEE STADIUM FUND, 1960.
Each of us6to the jar weekly. However, we still hadn't gone to a game because my father had to work every Saturday. So one day, I7him of the remaining time, and then he8me, "Don't worry and we'll have a free Saturday."
On the morning of the last game, I was waiting hopelessly with no9of my father who had been to work when he suddenly appeared and yelled, "I got two 10!"
I could hardly 11 when we finally sat together, father and son, watching my New York Yankees. I sat cheering, but for my father, all I could see is a face12tiredness from working all week.
In 1963, my father died suddenly while working. In his bedroom, I noticed a 13ticket in his yellowish book, which read, October I, 1960, General Admission. My father, who14 nothing for emotional reasons, had decided to keep this, a(n) 15 of our afternoon together.
