Honeymoon in Detroit

My parents were married in 1937. They went to Detroit on their honeymoon and took in this Tiger game at Briggs Stadium. My mother always said that Schoolboy Rowe was the Tiger pitcher. I can't tell who the opponents were, but chances are they are the Yankees. Schoolboy Rowe and the Yankees in town may account for massive crowd in the upper and lower centerfield bleachers. If it is the Yanks, Joe DiMaggio is the Yankee on the far right with his back to the camea. From the looks of the play, aomeone just hit a three-run homer off Schoolboy. Ugh! My parents had deluxe seats that day, lower deck behind home plate, they must have splurged or, perhaps, the seats were a wedding present. It's an amazing photo nonetheless, thank goodness mom brought the camera. Be sure to double-click on the photo to enlarge the picture. 

My maternal grandmother, Martha Jane Flaherty sits front and center with her teammates on the Michigan Normal University 1908 women's baskeball team. Michigan Normal is now Eastern Michigan University. The uniforms don't look all that comfortable, but the girls, for the most part, seem to be enjoying their trip to the photographer. I never met her. She died in of cancer in 1924. She looks very much like my mother, her namesake Martha Jane. Our loss. She has a kind, loving look on her face. It's no surprise she was captain of the team. 

Pancho and Lefty

Written by Townes Van Zandt and covered by many, including a heartfelt, angelic version by Emmylou Harris and a wistful, soulful duet by two of America's finest storytellers, Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson (listen to either version, they're delightful). Pancho and Lefty captures essence of friendship, separation, lonliness, regret, and kindness--all in a handful of well-crafted lines. Thanks, TVZ.

Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
Now you wear your skin like iron
Your breath's as hard as kerosene
You weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams

Pancho was a bandit boys
His horse was fast as polished steel
Wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
That's the way it goes

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him hang around
Out of kindness I suppose

Lefty he can't sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty's mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain't nobody knows

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose

The poets tell how Pancho fell
Lefty's livin' in a cheap hotel
The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold
So the story ends we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true,
But save a few for Lefty too
He just did what he had to do
Now he's growing old

A few gray federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so wrong
Out of kindness I suppose

Remeber: They only let them slip away out of kindess, I suppose, and, yes, save a few for Lefty too. He did what he had to do and now he's growing old.

More is coming about my maternals shown below. The man standing in the second row on the far right is Dan Flaherty. He left Michigan and headed west. He worked the copper trains that snaked there way through the desert mountains of Central Arizona. He visited us once, I was about 8 or 9. He had skin like iron and breathe as hard as kerosene. He was a kind man, but cold and distant much as he presents below.