This is one of those times when I set out to write and I have no idea about what...I thought I was going to discourse on T. S. Eliot, but then I changed my focus to F. Scott Fitzgerald and now here I am, with no idea why. Maybe I am meant to write about initials?
No, I think I am caught up in baseball, having witnessed the All Star Game last night. St. Louis is, indeed, a hallowed city for baseball fans, more so even than Manhattan. Bob Gibson, Stan Musial, Ozzie Smith and of course Albert Pujols...they all have meant so much to Baseball. And let's not forget Steve Carlton. Did the Phillies not steal him from the Cardinals for a bucket of spit?
Come to think of it, T. S. Eliot would have made a nifty little shortstop.
Play Ball.
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