DADDY, WHAT’S HEAVEN?

Many years ago, #1 Son was playing on the floor of the living room in our old house, and looking up at me asked; “Daddy, what’s Heaven?”

Not missing a beat I began to describe what I thought Heaven is, what it looked like and what it meant to go to Heaven. I explained to him that Heaven is a place that once lived in the heart of Brooklyn, between Bedford Avenue, Sullivan Place and Empire Boulevard. It was a building with the most beautiful courtyard ever made by man. An original Brooklyn saint, Saint Charles Ebbet, created it and so they named the place after him: Ebbets Field.

I told him about the greenness of the courtyard, with straight whiter than white lines and reddish turf that surrounded the field, a true field of dreams, where those that occupied it were loved and revered for all the happiness they brought to a young mind, sculpturing heroes, both black and white, men of great skill, and courage, men who could disappoint you, and in that disappointment taught you that love is not conditional.

He couldn’t understand what I said or meant, so like a good son went back to playing with his blocks. There was so much more I wished to tell him, like how one day they took away those saintly men and tore down Heaven, so that it would only exist in our minds eye, remembered in our hearts and forever more be etched in our souls. That and the fact that when we went to heaven, we would be able to watch the Brooklyn Dodgers play every game ever played in Ebbets Field from 1913 to September of 1957, over and over again, and all the excitement and joy of loving Dem Bums would come back refreshed.

Today while I was re-seeding my lawn, my neighbor John was walking his dog and stopped by to chat. We started to talk about things in general and got to mention our childhood and the old days. He asked me where I came from and I mentioned Brooklyn, we talked about the Brooklyn Dodgers and he showed me a tattoo that said: “1955 Brooklyn Dodgers”, so of course we now are really reunited, although we never met before we lived in our respective homes. I mentioned to John that it seems that Old Brooklyn Dodger Fans are all nostalgic, and he seemed to realize and agree that is really is so.

I will show John my collection of Brooklyn Dodger memorabilia, share some more memories and maybe drink to the days gone by.

Just Over The Brooklyn Bridge Lyrics
» Art Garfunkel

(M. Hamlisch, Marilyn & Alan Bergman)
A world of its own,
The streets where we played,
The friends on every corner were the best we ever made.
The backyards, and the school yards
And the trees that watched us grow,
The days of love when dinner time was all you had to know.
Whenever I think of yesterday,
I close my eyes and see,
That place Just Over The Brooklyn Bridge
That will always be home to me.
It'll always be home to me.