January 10, 1995 Tuesday
Today President Clinton is speaking in Galesburg. I can’t see how he can be re-elected next year.
Football is over (almost), and even now, as I sit in study hall and write this in the back of Mr. Wentworth’s room during study hall, I look out the window and over the athletic field. Anyone else would see a foggy, white scene, but my eyes instead see a lush, green field. My ears hear the crack of the bat and the restless murmurs of the crowd. I smell the leather of my glove and my heart is filled with baseball. I wish Opening Day was tomorrow. I recently asked Jim Camp, who played baseball last spring about the Brimfield team (Elmwood and Brimfield co-op its football and baseball team because we’re so small). He said they lost most of their games. It would be nice to play, and not simply watch on TV. Just to practice, to wear a uniform would be enough.
In the meantime Scholastic Bowl is staring again. Hoke, Davies and Willa Hanks are on the junior varsity with me. Willa’s the best on the team. She’s quick on the buzzer and knows a lot–she always gets the eventual economics question that asks for the definition of “laissez faire.” I’ll go to the “practices” and the “meets,” and we’ll have fun doing it, but part of me will also be happy when it’s over. We’re not that good, and Mr. Mavetz, our coach, spends most of his time with the varsity team. When we met tonight Davies said he might go out of baseball too. That’s good.
You’re probably wondering why, after all I have written in passing about Emma, I don’t run out of this room and and let her know. After all, anything must be better than staying on the sidelines. Well, there are a few reasons:
Suppose I tried to talk to her about it, to find it was a horrible mistake? The nice balance of everything now would crash, or at least change. And it makes me think about what I wrote in one of the first November entries, about everyone having their “roles.” In a way this is her role to me, from my small perspective and life. And a big part of me doesn’t want to change that. Anyway, on the other hand, graduation draws closer every second. Then I know we will cut our strings from Elmwood and go our separate ways. Geeze, I used to think we’d have forever here. But here I am–why? Well, the first strands go back to the late Reagan administration. I guess the sidelines are well dug.