Sunday was a busy day. Jack flew to camp. Papa Teddy got married. Joe had his baseball "banquet," and we went to dinner at the house of friends of ours. I have something to say about all those things and I have pictures. I have just been too tired to get it all up here. Know that I have been thinking about you and Grandma A LOT.

Here is a start. Joe's coach Seth, who is a fantastic guy, said that Joe is a terrific hitter. I hope it doesn't go to his head, but it will. All the kids on the team were really great and special. I already signed him up to play this fall.



Joe got a trophy. You don't have to imagine how psyched he is 'cause you can see it in his smile. Clicking on the picture makes a slideshow appear.

I love you Hen.

Your soccer team was the Dophins. They mentioned that in your obituary. I don't think your Takoma Park T-ball team had a name. Jack is playing for the White Sox of Bethesda Chevy Chase Little League and Joe is once again a Pirate in the Capitol City Little League.

The Pearls are a great family. Reading this made me very happy for them.



Eureka Boy Who Underwent Rare Bone Marrow Transplant Now A Little League Shark

By Deanne Lane

(KSDK) - There are many stories and many people I've met during my more than 20 years at NewsChannel 5. I've perhaps learned the most about hope from Matthew Pearl, a 10-year-old Eureka, Mo., boy -- make that young man.

Matthew has experienced and been dealt more in his young life than many of us will in a lifetime.

To call Matthew and his family survivors is an understatement. The Pearls have watched not one, but two of their children battle a life-threatening blood disorder known as Fanconi anemia.

Matthew's sister, Alex, had a rare bone marrow transplant years ago and continues to get strong. Matthew underwent a similar procedure almost a year ago and still has a long way to go.

"It's hard to breathe. He is having breathing issues. We are checking pulmonary -- it's gonna be follow up for years. It's nine months post, so to be out here and going to school and in our home and in bed is absolutely a blessing. It's unbelievable," said his mother Diane.

Matthew is not only back at school, he is playing Little League baseball with his buddies. His teammates on the Eureka Sharks team have also learned from their friend and his ordeal.

"He scored the first run of the year. The kids came and picked him up. We lost that game and none of them cared. It's been great. It turned out to be what I hoped it would be. The kids all learned from it. They all stuck together as a team and I don't think anybody had any other thoughts. The only way it could be would be that he'd be back out this season. It's been great," said coach Blake Fischer.

The next step for Matthew and his family? They hope to meet his donor and extend their thanks.

Isn't this nice. I am going to help Mom set up a blog for the Hope for Henry website so she can post great emails like this, photos, videos and other good stuff.

Hello there!

My name is Jamie. This summer I have been selected as the charity chair for the DC Potomac Kickball League, a division of the World Adult Kickball Association. Each summer we choose a charity in the local community that we feel can use the funds we raise over the season. This year we would like to contribute our season's collection to Hope for Henry. We feel that your organization keeps in spirit with our league and is doing wonderful work for children. Could you please send me some information about how to contribute funds?

Our aim is not only to raise money, but to educate our players about the charity and encourage them to continue on with their charitable endeavours after the season. If you have any information you would like us to distribute about Hope for Henry we can definitely do that as well. Finally, I was wondering if you took used electronics (like old gaming systems) as donations as well? I was thinking about organizing a drive at one of our events.

Thanks you so much for the great work Hope for Henry is doing. We at DC Potomac only hope that this summer we can give a little back as well. I would like to kick off our efforts next week at our Team Captains Meeting, so any information you could share with me would be fabulous!

Thanks-

Jamie

We went to Nana and Papa Sy's for Break-the-Fast. It was at their new apartment. Not sure if I told you they moved near us. This is where they stay when they aren't in St. Michaels.



The best part is we walked there from our house. I cannot think of many things better than being able to walk to your grandparent's place. I hope that Jack and Joe wear out a path in the concrete on the sidewalk between our homes as they get older.

All the cousins and friends were there. We saw Big Michael and Hannah and all of their kids. We'll see them next month in Michigan when we visit them and see the football game. M Go Blue, right. You and Jack were good at that. We had something that said that. I can't remember what it was. I know Mom has a "talking" Michigan bottle opener, but I think it was some kind of ball with a chip inside that would say, "M Go Blue" whenever you smashed it on something.

I remember buying you some kind of Michigan something or other when I was traveling for work. Bringing it home to you made me feel like a real dad. My dad, Papa Teddy, brought me back a Minnesota Vikings hat from a business trip he made to Minnesota when I was just a kid. It was purple and had a yellow pom-pom. For a time I liked both the Redskins and the Vikings. I liked the "Purple People Eaters," which were the Minnesota defensive line. I used to always like to be Alan Page when I was tackling in "maul ball," which was a game where you would just keep throwing up the ball and whoever caught it would just run around trying not to get tackled.

I think I may have just told you about this, but in case I didn't -- I played little kid football in a YMCA league at Walter Johnson High School in Bethesda. We wore helmets and shoulder pads which is such a cool thing when you are a kid. I just remember it being really dusty. I wish Grandma were still alive so I could ask her about it. I don't remember much more than the cool pads and the dust.

You and I had tickets to go to the University of Michigan v. University of Minnesota football game, the Little Brown Jug, when we went up to Minnesota for that last checkup when you ended up dying. I wonder how I got those tickets? Aunt Jen was friends with the guy who ran the Vikings. That might be it.

You got your fever that day when while we were up in our hotel room. I had to leave you alone so I could run out and get you tylenol and food you'd eat. And to think I was bummed about missing the game. I figured it was just another fever. We would have had a lot of fun at the game.

It's October. Hard month.

Last week was a week of firsts. On Thursday, Jack had his first saxophone lesson, and on Friday, Joe had his first real baseball game.

Jack had been wanting to learn to play my grandfather's, your great-grandfather's saxophone. I am sure you saw it. It was down in the basement in the black case. Jack has blown on it from time to time, but he wanted to learn how to play it for real. It is a beautiful instrument. It is silver. When Jack blows on it I think of Lisa Simpson.



Speaking of the Simpson's, that is about the only cartoon Jack is interested in anymore. Jack, Joe and I went to see a cartoon movie about baseball called, Everyone's Hero. Joe loved it, of course, but Jack was kinda bored. He is at the point where he prefers live action movies over cartoons. Realizing that made me sad, but that's life.

Jack, Mr. Grownup, is already thinking of the band that he can form with his buddies. I'd love for him to be in a band someday. I don't have a musical bone in my body, but I love listening to Mom and Jack play the piano.

And your little guy Joe finally got a chance to show his stuff. He is on the Pirates in the Capitol City Little League. Originally the team was the Red Sox but they changed it for some reason. Too bad.



The team is for 5-7 year olds but since Joe is almost 5 years old I figured he'd be okay. There are other 4 year olds on the team. We know a lot of the other parents already so that's nice.



Joe played really well. He got two hits and made it home. I am glad he is playing with a whole team now. He has lots of talent but he needs to learn about being a good sport and a good teammate. I tell him all the time that he needs to listen to his coaches. He isn't a very good listener and that is frustrating. Hopefully it is just me he doesn't listen to.



Here are two nice things I heard the past few days. During the game, right after Joe got a hit that went past the infield, the two coaches for his team said, "Who's his dad?" They were impressed with how far Joe can hit and they were thinking that someone is giving Joe good coaching.

I said I was Joe's dad, but I couldn't take any credit. That is the truth. He was born with great skills (something he got from Mom, not me) and he works very, very hard. But, of course, I was smiling inside.

Then on Sunday, Joe and I were playing baseball on the Mall near the Washington Monument. Joe insists on practicing all the time because he wants to be a professional ballplayer some day. Well a passerby who was watching him hit yelled over to me, "That kid will take care of your retirement." They meant that he's so good he'll play pro ball some day and make a lot of money.

If this was back when I was growing up I would think he might have a shot one day to play in the Major Leagues. But these days things are out-of-control crazy and parents start grooming -- which means getting them ready -- their kids for sports when they are super duper young. So I don't know if just being good is good enough any more.

Joe is only 4. Maybe next year he'll want to be an astronaut and not a big leaguer. What would be nice is if he coaches little kids when he grows up. And hopefully the kids he coaches will learn to be good listeners.

Who's Your Papi?
What drives David Ortiz, the supersized Red Sox slugger, is his resentment of the ball club that did him wrong ... and the fighting spirit of his late mother, Angela Rosa

By Tom Verducci

Every ballpark seems smaller, every room brighter, every worry lighter when you're in the company of David Americo Ortiz, the friendly galoot of a designated hitter for the eternally grateful Boston Red Sox. In girth and mirth Ortiz evokes Babe Ruth, Santa Claus and your favorite stuffed animal from childhood. The only son of Enrique and Angela Rosa Ortiz -- "I'm my mom's baby boy, you know?" he says proudly -- grew up loved in Santo Domingo, D.R., and seems intent on loving the world back.

Runyon or Twain might have invented a character like Ortiz, if it were possible for even such expansive imaginations to conjure a 230-pound teddy bear who speaks like a California surfer with a thick Spanish accent; a Dominican who married a Wisconsin girl and has wintered part time in the state; a hip-hop, bling-covered fashion plate who underneath his cool threads wears black boxer shorts with who's your daddy? printed in all directions in Day-Glo colors; and -- most amazing of all -- one of the game's great sluggers, who, at 27, was released by the Minnesota Twins after no other major league club wanted him in a trade.

Ortiz, now 30, ranked fourth in the American League in home runs (18) and first in RBIs (56) at week's end, a pace that would leave him with 48 homers and 149 RBIs for the season and a three-year run in which he had no fewer than 41 homers and 139 RBIs. Only two players in history maintained such high production for three consecutive seasons: Ken Griffey Jr. (1996 through '98) and Ruth, who did so for six straight years (1926 through '31). A .300 hitter last season, Ortiz was batting .265, blaming the drop partly on the extreme defensive shifts employed against him.

In Ortiz there is a little bit of something for everyone to like, which helps explain why he received more All-Star votes from major league fans than any other player last year; why his Boston Red Sox teammates, in one of the more respectful acts in clubhouse culture, ceded him total control of the stereo; and why a terminally ill eight-year-old boy, given days to live, asked to visit Fenway Park to meet him in April. Ortiz's popularity, like his gap-toothed, omnipresent smile, crosses cultures and generations.

"He appeals to every demographic," Red Sox general manager Theo Epstein says. "People love watching athletes who you can tell enjoy what they're doing. And to have a guy who comes to work every day with a smile -- that's especially huge in our clubhouse, where we had problems in the past."

Says Puerto Rican-born teammate Alex Cora, "People love to be around David. The unique thing about him is that he communicates just as easily with the American players as with the Latin players. Most of the Latin stars don't have that quality. He brings the team together."

Ortiz thrives on such interaction, preferring to spend as much time as possible around friends and family. Yes, he is outgoing by nature, but the company also keeps him from the dark thoughts that plague him sometimes when he is alone. Behind the smile there is pain. "I start thinking about life after death," Ortiz says. "I've got to quit thinking about it because it's very deep. Very deep. Sometimes you start thinking about it, and you don't feel like you want to be alive, so I don't like to get all quiet.

"Everybody goes through some tough times in their life, no matter what you do. Man, I've had my tough times."

Eight minutes. Ortiz remembers it as exactly eight minutes. It is all the time needed for an elite runner to cover two miles, for an orchestra to play the second movement of Brahms's Symphony No. 1 or, as Ortiz found out, for your heart to break. On New Year's Day 2002, it was eight minutes from that awful phone call from his sister's boyfriend -- Your mom has been in an accident -- to the time Ortiz arrived at the roadside wreck near his home in Santo Domingo. A dump truck. His mom's car. And Angela Rosa ... gone.

"I was there eight minutes after it happened, and she was dead already," Ortiz says. "That's why I don't worry about baseball. I don't feel like I put any pressure on myself when I'm playing baseball. Not after that."

Ortiz was 26 years old at the time and still trying to establish himself as an every-day player with the Twins, who had plucked him from the Seattle Mariners' farm system in 1996, in one of those pennant-race deadline deals in which the anxious Mariners wanted veteran third baseman Dave Hollins. At the end of the '97 season Ortiz was promoted to the big leagues, and the first person he called was, of course, Angela Rosa. She and Enrique, whom everyone calls Leo, were always there for him. There was the day Leo, who sold auto parts, left work to watch his boy play Little League for the first time. David smacked a home run, and as he rounded third, Leo bolted from the stands and interrupted his son's trot to home by throwing a big hug around him. Though David still visits Leo regularly in Santo Domingo, things will never be the same without Angela Rose.

"She was one of the best mothers ever," Ortiz says. "She was pretty much my everything. It's tough, man. I come from a poor family, but I had a good education and a good home. That counts for everything. My mom, she wasn't like a baseball mother who knew everything about the game. She just wanted me to be happy with what I was doing."

Both his parents, Ortiz says, stressed the importance of education, but it was Leo, a former semi-pro ballplayer, who advised David to give up his other love, basketball, to concentrate on baseball. It was baseball that brought Ortiz to Wisconsin in 1996, where, while playing Class A ball at age 20, he met his wife, Tiffany, and started a family that includes two daughters, Jessica, 9, and Alexandra, 5, and a son, D'Angelo, 1 1/2.

The year that began with his mother's death, 2002, would also be Ortiz's last with the Twins. He hit .272 with 20 home runs and 75 RBIs platooning at first base for a young team that reached the AL Championship Series. Minnesota, though, was not high on Ortiz, who seemed injury-prone (he missed chunks of time with wrist and knee injuries), was not a polished fielder and couldn't catch up with good fastballs on his hands. Minnesota G.M. Terry Ryan figured that Ortiz's development had stalled and decided to trade him. "He just wasn't getting it done here, for whatever reason," Ryan says. Then he admits, "I made a bad baseball decision."

He wasn't alone. Ryan tried to trade Ortiz for two months. "Not one team made an offer," Ryan says. "Nothing."

Finally, in December 2002, the Twins released Ortiz. Finding a job at that point of the off-season looked so difficult to him that he told his agents, Fernando Cuza and Diego Benz, to check for openings in Japan and Mexico. "[The Twins] did me that bad," Ortiz says. "I never had a problem with anybody in that organization. Ever, bro. I was a good teammate. I respect everybody. I never had no argument with no coach, nobody. I never did anything wrong, but they did me wrong. No respect, bro. I was lucky I got a job with the Red Sox. There were other teams, but they were offering me way less money."

The Red Sox gave him $1.25 million and figured he was one of five guys -- along with Jeremy Giambi, Shea Hillenbrand, Kevin Millar and Bill Mueller -- who would combine to fill three spots (first, third and DH). Six weeks into the season Ortiz showed so little power (two homers) that his teammates were calling him Juan Pierre (the light-hitting leadoff man who's now with the Chicago Cubs). Ortiz wanted out of Boston. "I called my agents," he recalls, "and said, 'If you guys are not here tomorrow, you guys are fired.'"

After the next day's game Ortiz and his agents met with Epstein in the players' parking lot outside Fenway Park. "I told Theo, 'I want you to trade me or release me,'" Ortiz says. "'I can't be sitting here watching this circus anymore, guys I know I can do better than. Me just watching from the bench? I'm not that kind of guy. I don't clap for something that doesn't deserve it.'"

"Give me a couple of days," Epstein recalls saying. "I promise you we've got something in the works to free up a spot for you."

On May 29, 2003, Epstein traded Hillenbrand to the Arizona Diamondbacks for righthander Byung-Hyun Kim, a forgettable trade for Boston except for the opportunity it gave Ortiz. Finally, he could smile.

Ortiz had felt stifled in Minnesota, an organization that so emphasizes situational hitting that no Twin has hit 30 home runs in a season since 1987. The 6'4" Ortiz was the square peg who didn't fit in the round hole. "They wanted me to stay inside the ball," Ortiz says, referring to a style in which a lefthanded hitter tries to hit inside pitches to leftfield. "They were teaching that to everyone. That's why nobody ever hits home runs there. But when you're young in the big leagues and the coach tells you to do something and you don't do it and you get negative results, then you're f-----. They're going to sit you down."

The Twins, Ortiz says, so enthusiastically stressed small-ball tactics such as hitting behind runners that "if you moved the runner over from second base [with a groundout], you got high fives in the dugout like you just hit a home run."

In his first at bat with the Red Sox, while batting cleanup in a spring training game, Ortiz happened to come up with a runner on second base and no outs. "I came in with that little pull, cheap-shot s---," said Ortiz, explaining his grounder to second base on an outside sinker. "I still had the Minnesota Twins in my system."

This time there were no high fives waiting for him in the dugout, just manager Grady Little with a word of advice. "Hey," Little said. "Next time? Bring him in."

Ortiz smiles at the memory. "I was like, O.K.!" he says. "I had a little more freedom than what I was used to."

Says Epstein, "We didn't know what we were getting. Nobody knew. We just let him be exactly what he is."

Ortiz, with a mechanical tune-up from hitting coach Ron Jackson, and freed of the wear and tear of playing in the field, started turning on inside pitches and closing that hole in his swing on inside fastballs. From June 1, 2003, through June 1, 2006, he slammed 132 home runs, second only to Albert Pujols's 140 in the majors. He finished fifth, fourth and second in AL MVP balloting in the past three seasons while conjuring up so much late-inning magic -- he has 13 walk-off hits with the Red Sox, including three in Boston's 2004 postseason run to a world championship -- that last year the team presented him with a plaque declaring him the greatest clutch hitter in the history of the boston red sox. Ortiz lived up to that billing on Sunday, hitting a three-run walkoff homer at Fenway to beat the Texas Rangers 5-4.

"He loves coming up in the big spot," says Epstein, whom Ortiz has persuaded to junk the sabermetrics principle that clutch hitting is not a skill. "He makes you rethink the objective analysis. The way he rises to the occasion and the quality of his at bats, the numbers don't reflect that human element."

Says Ortiz, "It's mostly confidence. If you go up there thinking you might not get it done, you're out already. I know I'm going to hit you. And I have confidence all around me here. In Minnesota, if we faced a good pitcher, guys would say, 'Oh, well, I'll get my hits tomorrow.' Here? We don't care who's pitching."

Ortiz is an icon in Boston already. "A larger-than-life figure," says second baseman Mark Loretta of the man called Big Papi. (Ortiz, forgetful of names, has a habit of calling people Papi, a Spanish colloquialism for daddy or pop. His frequent use of the word was turned around on him long enough ago that he can't remember when it began.)

Ortiz's transformation from released player to, as Toronto Blue Jays G.M. J.P. Ricciardi says, "a Hall of Famer with five more years like this" may be unprecedented. The Brooklyn Dodgers lost Roberto Clemente to the Pittsburgh Pirates in the mid-1950s version of the Rule 5 draft, but no other hitter this good has ever been willingly cut loose.

The Red Sox this spring signed the former castoff to a four-year, $52 million extension, keeping him in Boston through 2010. It's just another reason why Big Papi is smiling. "I'm not going to lie, I got frustrated a lot before [Boston]," Ortiz says. "It's been tough. The worst was losing my mom. Losing her was something I couldn't figure out at the time. I was, like, lost and confused.

"When things weren't going good, she would always say, 'Son, you're always going to be my baby boy. Keep fighting. I love you.' Now, even though I don't have that voice, I feel that spirit to fight back when times are tough. My mom, she's still always there for me. Always."

Issue date: June 19, 2006

Copyright © 2006 CNN/Sports Illustrated

I am really proud of Jack. He is really enjoying baseball. He had a game on Saturday that felt like a roller coaster. He hit what looked like a home run, but because the ball finally rolled into the street, they said it was only a double. But as you know, we play that if you hit the ball from the porch and goes into Calvert Street, then it is a home run. Too bad the rules change a half a block away.

Joe and I played together on the side of the field. He kept hitting the ball to me. He can also throw really well. Look out for him. He is more of a natural athlete, like you, and Jack is more like me -- which means he has to try a lot harder. That is why I am so proud of him. He is trying really hard.

-----Original Message-----
From: David Monroe [mailto:dmonroe@gkglaw.com]
Sent: Sunday, September 18, 2005 1:47 PM
To: Jack Goldberg

Once upon a time, there was a little league baseball team. When they were good, they were very good. But when they were bad . . . well, I’m sure you get the idea.

The Orioles must have felt like they were living in a fairy tale on Saturday. Like Cinderella at the Ball, the Orioles waltzed though the first five innings on glass slippers, enjoying a 9-4 lead based on timely hitting and several nice defensive plays. But like Snow White, the Orioles couldn’t resist tasting the apple of complacency. By the time they awoke from their slumber, the clock had long since chimed midnight, their victory carriage had turned into a pumpkin, and the Orioles were feeling very Grimm indeed.

Both teams struggled to score until the Orioles struck for three runs in the bottom of the fourth inning. Sophia broke out of an 0-3 slump in a big way by smacking a solo home run to open the inning. Jack Goldberg followed with a single, and scored on Eva Monroe’s double. Unfortunately, Eva was tagged out in a rather bizarre play resulting from a miscommunication with the coaching staff. All the more unfortunate, since Evan Hamlin followed with another home run.

Although the Orioles gave up four runs in the top of the fourth inning, they batted around in the bottom of the fourth, scoring six more runs and extending their lead to 9-4. Harris Rothman started the rally with a home run. Consecutive singles by Ian Ludwig, Benji Satloff, and Jack Price followed an Ari Moskowitz double. Sophia Abshire then belted a double up the middle, and came around to score on Jack Goldberg’s ground-rule double (which would have been a home run had it not gone out of play). Eva Monroe and Evan Hamlin singled to finish out the inning.

After a scoreless fifth inning, the Orioles seemed confident of victory, with a 9-4 lead and the bottom of the Pirate order coming up. Perhaps too confident . . . Before the Orioles could finish counting their proverbial chickens, the Pirates mounted a furious rally. Sprinkling a few well-hit balls amidst a series of Oriole misadventures, the Pirates pushed across seven runs to turn a 9-4 deficit into an 11-9 advantage. The stunned Orioles could not answer in the bottom of the sixth, and the game was lost.

The Orioles were obviously not short of offense – Sophia, Jack G., Evan and Eva were all perfect at the plate. Ian, Ari and Harris also had multi-hit games. Although base running errors cost the Orioles a couple of runs, the real story was the Orioles defense, or lack thereof. There were, to be sure, some great defensive plays. Ian’s short-hop, unassisted putout at second comes to mind. Evan’s swipe tag on a runner trying to take second base was another nice play (by the way, nice throw Harris!). David Lane was, as usual, making plays all over the field. (By the way, we all know David is one tough kid, but seriously, we will have to talk about the practice of using one’s face to stop the ball, a technique I understand is not recommended by 9 out of 10 dentists). But on the whole, the Orioles failed to play the kind of heads-up defense they are capable of playing. And we should not forget to give credit where it is due -- the Pirates, played hard and made the plays when it counted. They deserved to win.

The Orioles do know how to catch, or at least stop, the ball. They do know how to stop the runners. They know what a cut-off person is, and why it is important to throw the ball to the cutoff. They know how to play together as a team and to help each other out. What they have to learn is that you have to do all those things for the entire game. While it may be true, as a great philosopher once said, that two out of three ain’t bad, it is an unfortunate truth that (at least in baseball) five out six ain’t good.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. [INSERT YOUR OWN CLICHÉ HERE.] We have much to practice, and so we shall, on Thursday at 5:00 p.m., Stoddert Field.

The stats for the first two games are attached.

Your humble(d) coach,

David Monroe
AA Orioles

Jack is playing Northwest Little League. He is on a team with Ari, Benji and David. The great thing is that the games are a hop, skip and jump away at Stoddert. It is nice to be able to go home and grab some water or go to the bathroom in the middle of a game.

The Orioles are pretty good. They, mostly Jack (No. 17), have a big fan.



This is Jack up at bat.



So when I saw Ari, he said "You look just like Henry." I have to look back in this because I think he has said that before. Maybe he is just saying that to be nice because I don't think that you and I look anything alike. Whatever the reason, it is the nicest thing anyone could say.

Another nice thing someone (a friend) said to me the other day is that she wanted her grandson to be like me when he grows up. I think I once said that I want to be like you when I grow up. So I guess she was saying she wants her grandson to be like Henry Strongin Goldberg when he gets older. That's a good thing to be.

Yesterday was Father's Day.

Jack gave me this present. How awesome is your brother.




I was okay until about 11:00 am and then I started to think about you and got really sad. I started to feel like I had no energy to do anything. But it was "my day," and Mommy asked what I wanted to do. I said that I wanted to go to the cemetery.

First we went to Galayan's, which is now called "Dick's." Go figure. We bought rollerblades for Jack and Joe. When we were there we ran into our friend, Obbie, who happens to be Uncle Andy's cousin. Andy and Obbie are first cousins, just like you and Michael.

We left there and went to the cemetery.

The grass was really dry and not comfortable to lay on, but we did anyway. I wish that we could put down some really soft turf. I think will ask the people who operate the cemetery if I can bring in my own grass. There is actually a place out near the cemetery called a "turf farm." I want it to be green and soft on top of your grave.

Joe busied himself playing with all of the little Pokemon and other things that are on your headstone. Jack wasn't particularly pysched to be there, so he went back and sat in the minivan and listened to music.

Mom and I went and saw Grandma and everyone else buried there that we know. I didn't cry this time.

When we got home everyone put on their roller blades and we went around that track where we went for Michael's soccer birthday party. Here is a photo of you, me and Mom from Minnesota. I was thinking a lot about our apartment on Lake Calhoun. It was so nice that we were all together and neither Mom or I were working. It was great being together so much as a family -- even though it was all because of you needing to get new blood.



Today I went to Boston to do something fun for work. I gave a fifth and sixth grade class money to help them with a project they are doing. It is all about good sportmanship. It felt good to be able to do this. I thought about you a lot.


Students get A for effort
Radio service donates $10K to Acton elementary school

By Douglas Belkin, Globe Staff | June 19, 2005

The Yankees and Red Sox never did agree to shake hands, but the good sportsmanship campaign by a group of Acton elementary school students -- which got the country wondering whether the rivals would shake -- is paying dividends just the same.

Washington, D.C.-based XM Satellite Radio will present the Merriam Elementary School with a check for $10,000 tomorrow morning in a case of what ad-types might well call synergy.

The check is a one-time gift the company is giving to the school because the handshake project so closely echoes its advertising campaign, ''Why can't we be friends."

The project drew national attention earlier this year when the school's fifth- and sixth-graders campaigned to get the Red Sox and Yankees to shake hands on opening day in Fenway Park as a show of good sportsmanship. Everybody from Sports Illustrated to Bud Selig, the commissioner of Major League Baseball, weighed in. A spokesman for Yankees owner George Steinbrenner said the boss himself liked the idea. Red Sox manager Terry Francona said he admired the students' initiative -- they started by sending letters to the Sox -- and he'd talk to team captain Jason Varitek about it.

But, ultimately, it was the players' decision and they demurred.

That said, the kids took heart when the Yankees applauded the Red Sox during the world championship ring ceremony at Fenway Park on April 11. Apparently not everyone had read the good sportsmanship memo that morning, however. During the ring ceremony, at the tail end of a moment of silence to honor the recently deceased former Red Sox reliever Dick Radatz, one fan in the stands yelled a vulgar remark aimed at Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez.

The remark was followed by a terse ''thank you" by Red Sox announcer and master of ceremonies Joe Castiglione.

The XM Satellite advertising campaign centers around the 1975 song ''Why Can't We Be Friends?" by the group War and plays on the idea that even though fans of different Major League Baseball teams may antagonize each other when they root for their home team, they are all part of a larger community of baseball fans. XM subscribers can listen to almost every baseball game from anywhere in the country.

''We became aware of what the kids were doing around the time we launched the campaign and we thought they complemented each other," said Allen Goldberg, a spokesman for XM. ''So we got in touch with the school and teachers, and even sent them the spot before it aired."

The money is meant to be spent furthering the ideals of the handshake project, said Goldberg, but can be used however the school sees fit.

An oversized check will be awarded at a schoolwide ceremony Monday morning and will be followed by a panel discussion with some local news reporters who covered the story, as well as Bill Maver, Acton-Boxborough High School football coach, and Middlesex District Attorney Martha Coakley.

After the panel discussion, the students will take a bus to Fenway Park, where they will take a tour and meet with Charles Steinberg, the Red Sox vice president in charge of public affairs.

On Tuesday, the students will participate in the ''Ripken Family" baseball radio show, hosted by Cal Ripken and his brother Billy on XM Radio.

''This whole thing has been a wonderful experience," said Ed Kaufman, who organized the effort with fellow teacher Mary Ann Brandt. ''It surpassed what any of us expected."

''I think the kids learned they can make a difference in the world and they can get people talking about something if they show enough passion and sincerity about what they believe in."

I got to talk to the kids at their school and then we went to Fenway Park, which is where the Red Sox play baseball. While I was waiting for the school bus to pull up, I saw two Boston Children's Hopital buses go by. I thought about the time when you were there for heart surgery and Mark took me for a walk up to Fenway.

This is me with all the kids. I am in the middle. This felt great. I am very lucky.



Yesterday at Fenway, they had a special Fathers' Day event. After the baseball game, dads and kids get to go down on the field and play catch. How cool is that.







It is great for the dads and their kids, but hard on the grass. Today they had all these people working on the field to make it nice again. You know I was thinking how great it would be for the cemetery to do the same thing.

In the original Encyclopedia Brown books, the author describes the town where the Brown's live, Idaville, as having "three movie theaters, a Little League, four banks and two delicatessens. It had large houses and small houses, good schools, churches, stores and even an ugly section by the railroad tracks."

In later books the author speaks of "Idaville's wonderful fresh air, its beaches, its three movie theaters and four banks, its churches and synagogues, its Little League and its two delicatessens."

Now I am not as smart as Encyclopedia Brown, but my guess is that they needed someone to eat in those two delicatessens. They went from zero shuls to synagogues plural. The Case of the Mysteriously Appearing Jews.

Just something that struck me.

I love you Henry. I cried thinking about you in synagogue. What are you doing being a plaque. I want my little boy.

Good night sweetie.

Hey Henry:

We made it out to St. Michaels. The sun was setting and it is as beautiful as you remember. Here is a photo from inside the "kids" bedroom. You always took the big bed with Jack and/or the cousins in the bunks.



Listen to what is going on inside my mind when we got there. Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, breathe, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, breathe, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry. There is a new flag pole out here by the dock. See.



I thought it might be fun to raise and lower in the morning and night. But Papa Sy tells me it is a "perma" flag and always flies. It's like the way I am always thinking of you.

When we got there mom peeked into the shops, and I sat in the car with a sleeping Joe and Jack. I sat there and thought about getting ice cream at Justine's, feeding the birds corn kernels down at the Crab Claw, and of course choosing Marbles at the toys store upstairs at Calico Gallery.

Do you remember last summer when we went fishing off the dock at Nana and Papa's house in St. Michaels. You, me, mom, Jack and Papa Sy must have caught at least 5 fish a piece, probably more. I never laughed so hard watching mom get excited when she'd land the fish and when it would flop about on the dock. You were awesome!





We brought Speedy to St. Michaels with us. I thought about the time when you and I left Uncle Peter and Aunt Alice's beach house on our way to Hackensack and saved that turtle. Now that I think of it we did a lot of beach to hospital runs. Whatever. So remember how we were right outside of Bethany and saw the turtle crossing Rt 29 or is it Rt 26. We stopped the car and snatched the turtle right off the road and placed him on the side where he was heading. We both knew that you always put an animal on the side where they are heading or they'll start back across the road. Another life saved. You know that you probably saved some more lives by being in the newspaper, remember that New York Times article with Molly. I know that there were people who realized their kids needed new blood just from reading the article, and there were people who decided they would be donors, like Beverly was for you.

Jack and Nana and I went to Blackwater Wildlife Refuge, which is not too far from St. Michaels. Sorry I never took you. Papa Teddy took me there once when I was a little guy. With Jack and Nana we saw snow geese, great blue herons and a bald eagle. A nice man let us look at the bald eagle through his telescope. Papa Teddy got you a huge telescope for Hannukah so we gave it to Jack, from Papa Teddy, for Jack's birthday. Jack really wanted one of those things I put together for you with pictures from your adventures. The best thing to call it is a photo montage. We did one in Minnesota 2 months ago, but the ones I remember the most were the ones I did for you after we flew to St. Michaels in Uncle Dan's plane and the time you, me and Mom took pictures from the kayak of the ospreys and the swans. Remember how we paddled close to the osprey nest and got just close enough to get the mommy and daddy osprey mad at us but also close enough for great photo. I'll find those and post them. In the meantime here are some photos we took of the birds at Blackwater and Jack's photo montage, which he brought to school for show and tell.

Uncle Dan was here last night. He flew in from St. Louis. When We flew with Uncle Dan and Papa Sy to St. Michaels it took us something like 15 minutes to fly there. And then the man working at the airport drove us to Nana's and Papa's house. You were really into the way you sounded like Henry the Robot when you talked on the headset in the plane. "I am Henry the Robot." I hear you saying it in your robot voice. "I am a robot."

I am transferring all of the video that we took of you over the years to DVD. I am writing as I do it, you are yelling "Dad, dad" to try and get my attention. I see you and I hear you. You are at Shabbat sing and wearing your Old Navy muscle shirt with orange trim. You know I always loved going to Shabbat Sing and I always cried (but you never saw me doing that, did you). There was something about the combination of all of the kids together singing songs that I grew up singing. You have a bruise on your bicep. Sorry.

Wow, that's weird. I am transferring all of our old tapes on to DVDs and I am watching video I took of you and Jack inside the toy store in St. Michaels. The same exact stuff that I took photos of this weekend. There you are eating ice cream at Justines. All I have to say is thank god I was so afraid you were going to die at transplant that I took so much video before we went. I never told you that before, of course. I really wish I had taken more the past 2 years. The whacked thing is that I figured I would wait until you looked "normal," "like yourself" and not puffy from the steroids before I took a lot of video again. Or maybe I just settled in to thinking you'd be around forever so I didn't need to be so aggressive about capturing every minute. I used to throw out photos because I didn't think they "looked like you" with the thinking that I'd start keeping the ones after you went back to looking like Henry. Mom used to ask the doctors all of the time if we could taper down the medicines that made you look so puffed up. And you were more and more uncomfortable with the way you looked. The strangest thing is I never saw you as being really puffy, but looking back at all of the photos we did keep from the last two years I realize that you were bigger than normal. You're still so gosh darn handsome. You look like mommy.



On the drive to St. Michaels, we were listening to the CD that has 3 Billy Goats Gruff on it. When it came on Mom said that you told her you really like this story. You brought home the book and the tape when from Liane's class. And when I talked to Mommy's friend Jane on the phone last week, she reminded me how we played 3 Billy Goats Gruff on the bridge on her family's property (their St. Michaels), called "The Knob." I was the troll and you and Jack were billy goats. She said she thought you guys were really cool.

On the ride back from St. Michaels, late Monday night, we were driving along and I just started crying. I was crying very softly, and I put mommy's hand to my cheek to let her know how I was feeling. And then when I saw that Jack and Joe were both asleep I started to sob out loud. It was like I was sad and the harder I thought about you the harder I cried. We rented a movie the other night called About a Boy. I read the book way back when we were in Minneapolis for your transplant. You'd think a movie with a name like that would make me weep, but it didn't. I really enjoyed it.

Hen, you know how lately you always wanted cold water and insisted it have ice. You totally made me work but I loved making you happy and comfortable. Well, you'd love what happened this week. The weather is so cold outside that our water cooler bottles have frozen. I can't even put them on the water cooler 'cause they are so heavy I think they'll break it. When I get them on top I bet we'll have the coldest water ever. Sorry you missed this. It would have been just the right temperature, but you still would have insisted on the ice.

Suzanne was here the other night. She stopped by to get the manual for the blood pressure machine. She sat with me and mom and we all told great Henry stories. She talked about the time you two went on the date to Cactus. Here is an email that she sent me yesterday.

Hey Allen: It was great to see you guys last night. (I didn't get a ticket on my car!). Anna was just telling me the story of another child yesterday who was really upset about having her port a cath accessed and deaccessed and when Anna put the tool box down she was so excited and begging to have the port de accessed so she could pick her bandaid. All of a sudden everything was all better when the tool box showed up! (She has such a hard time being in the clinic). Jada just said "Henry came to be with her".

So last night I was surfing the TV and I came across a program on the Discovery Health channel that showed a boy getting ready to go in to have his central line placed in his chest. Of course, I should have turned the channel, some might think this is self-punishment, but I knew that it would help me think of you. It would take me back to the many times you were being readied for surgery. And sure enough, this little guy, musta been 4 or 5 years old, starts to cry when they start to take him into the OR, even though his mom was still at his side. That is the normal, acceptable way it should happen, but of course you always went in like a guy without a care in the world. I think one of the saddest moments for me was when I realized you didn't cry any more at clinic when they took your blood. It had become such a regular part of your life that you just accepted it and it didn't really phase you.

Joe is getting to be a big guy. I hope you don't mind him playing with your lightsabre. He is able to make it "extend" with a snap of his wrist. He is the padawan and you are the Jedi master.



And check this out. He doesn't only walk, he climbs. He can make it all the way up the ladder to the top bunk without help. We need to keep a close eye on him. We miss having you help us with him.





I found these pictures from last summer when you played T-ball for Takoma Park little league. When were you sick? This must have been before August. You were such a good hitter. I was always excited when you smacked the ball so hard. You made those games really fun to watch. Thanks.





I love you slugger.

Dad