1975 Topps #242 Jay Johnstone

When I get older losing my hair, many years from now, and I reflect back on the Summer of ’09 and our recent Ocean City vacation, I will not remember the vacation began with the Phillies dropping the last two games of their four-game series with the Giants. I won’t remember the runners left in scoring position, Aaron Rowand hurting his former team or Tim Lincecum running through the Phillies line-up like a hot knife through warm butter.

However, I will remember playing in the sand with Doug, taking naps, enjoying some sort of seafood just about every night and riding the rides. I’ll remember the look on Doug’s face when the train left the Wonderland station and it clinked and clanked down the track, overlooking a vista of swirling rides and flashing lights through the omnipresent smell of popcorn. I’ll remember the ride operator having to stop the boat ride because Doug refused to sit down in his excitement to end the grounded, predictable boat ride and move on to the soaring elephant ride. I’ll remember the slightly concerned look on his face that turned to complete joy when the Nascar ride began to move a little quicker than any of us had anticipated.

I’ll remember him running away from the “big water” on the beach and I’ll remember him filling his buckets up with water and dumping them into the “big hole” over and over and over again. I'll remember sitting on the beach, watching my little family frolic and being fairly certain there was no one on that beach quite as lucky or as grateful as I was.

So I won’t remember the Phils limping back from the end of the West Coast trip. I’ll remember the things I’m supposed to remember.

(What does Jay Johnstone have to do with this post? Not a whole lot, but both the 1975 Topps set and the beach just make me happy).