What we learn

When I was in 7th grade I began participating in organized sports. I played softball, soccer, volleyball, and basketball - I would have played tiddly winks if it meant being on  a team. I don't remember a lot about these years of my life - but I do remember wearing my team uniform. I do remember practicing every day, morning or night - it didn't matter - I would practice whenever I could. I was thinking about it last night...about Ms. Baldwin who was my first coach. Living there in such a small town, coaching country bumpkins - She did her job. Ms. Baldwin was good at her job. She was a good coach. You know what made her so good? She found a way to make each of us a part of the team. I was not a gifted athlete. Ms. Baldwin said I was a power forward in a point guards body. Which would have been just fine if I had a point guards moxy. I did not play in very many games. I was a great practice player. That was Ms. Baldwin told me. I contributed to the team because, in practice, I worked my butt off and this forced the "starters" to work harder which made them better. Maybe she was just blowing smoke up my skirt, or shorts as it were, I don't know. Either way it doesn't matter. During a period of my life, of which I can't even recall who I was living with I can remember being on "The Team." I remember Ms. Baldwin took us to a girl's college basketball game. I think it was in Potsdam. There piled in the back of her yellow van an assemblage of girls happy for the excursion. We stopped at a store for snacks. I put in my dollar and asked for a Whatchamacallit candy bar. When the runners had returned they were one item short - my candy bar. For some girls that would be an insignificant long forgotten memory - in my memory it is vivid. It was a minute event which summarized my entire life - I put in my money yet I did not receive my candy bar. Ms. Baldwin offered me a dollar back. I did not want the dollar, didn't really care about the candy bar(it was a new candy bar so it was the rage, only reason I ordered it) For me, being the odd girl out was just reinforcement of my life - I had been the odd girl out since the moment I was born. In not receiving that candy bar I knew I just didn't belong anywhere, not even here on my team, even with the same uniform as my teammates, I was not one of them. I continued to participate in school athletics. If there was a sport to be played you could count me in. I go back to Ms. Baldwin. Who in a small town, where rumors and gossip were served with your morning coffee at the local diner - she remained who she was. When she fell in love with the wife of a teacher - she didn't hide from it and she didn't flaunt it. It was just what it was two people who fell in love. Under such a microscope I don't know if I would have the courage to remain. Ms. Baldwin did. Maybe she knew I was a lost soul - she always said such nice things to me. Even though I was the 12th girl on a 11 person team, I didn't feel slighted - Ms. Baldwin didn't make me feel "less" because I was not as good as the other girls. Shoot, most coaches would probably not spent the time to have me on the team. One time Ms. Baldwin told me the leader of a team is not always the player with the most ability, the leader of the team is often the player with the most heart. She thought I had heart, she said I was scrappy. That was such a compliment - it still is - in sports vernacular a "scrappy" player works harder, longer, and pushes farther than their ability. A "scrappy" player is the first one in and the last one to leave. A "scrappy" player plays the last 30 seconds of a blowout loss for all it is worth because that is their only playing time. Without a lick of self esteem, and a years I can't even remember I cherish Ms. Baldwin and what she gave me. I was scrappy. I got back up. I worked for the rebound. I took on the big girls and I emerged from the pile. Even when I did not get my candy bar I stilled showed up. To wear the uniform, to belong - And now, looking back on it all, thinking about Ms. Baldwin - because she died much too young from breast cancer - and Elizabeth Edwards passed away yesterday much too young from breast cancer - and my Mommie left much too early from breast cancer - See what Ms. Baldwin taught me, what she gave me, what she gave all of us - a place to belong. A memory we won't lose, an opportunity to be good, in whatever way we were good. Riding the pine(Eileen, that means I didn't get to play in games) just in giving me that she gave me a seat at the table. OK, it was a seat at the end of the table, a seat none the less. As I grew older, I did get better. I think I started one game in all my years of basketball playing for Ms. Baldwin - maybe two. She did give me some minutes though - every game I had a few minutes. "Stewart" she would call out and point to the score's table. WOW! In the game, me, WOW! I belonged. In life we are not always able to see a gift as we are receiving it. As with Ms. Baldwin, it was a spiral thought, a night I didn't sleep because Elizabeth Edwards has three young children who will have to grow up without their mother - that my friends is  a really hard thing to do. One shouldn't covet they neighbors goods - I will say without hesitation I envy every person my age who still has their Mom. We should have our Mom's a long time - if we don't though. If God needs more angels in heaven - and takes our Mom's - then he gives us other people, people like Ms. Baldwin, who stood with her head held high, a woman who always put the player before the victory - someone who gave me an adjective to aspire to; "scrappy." I am still scrappy. Not the best player on the team, and I still don't remember where I lived or who I was living with - and I am at a real crossroads right now - a place in life when I wish I had my Mommie to talk to - but I don't. That is life. So this bench warmer, undersized power forward, this "scrappy" practice player looks around and realizes for my entire life the gifts have flowed upon me - one of those gifts came in the form of Ms. Baldwin and her allowing me the privilege of wearing the uniform. She gave me a place to belong. She gave me an identity. She did leave us much too young. We need to find a cure for breast cancer. We have to. Little girls should not grow up without their Mommie's. And sometimes, us big girls, sometimes, we need our Mommie's too. This fork in the road - this place I am at - I sure would like to talk to Mommie about it. She would know what to do, and if she didn't she would still make me feel better - I do envy people who still have their Mommie's - Yet, I know the blessings of so many wonderful women - Thanks Ms. Baldwin.