Game called....

Another great change has taken place. My neighbor in this stark hallway, an internationally renowned Professor of Folklore, collapsed while teaching yesterday and never came back. He was a truly wonderful neighbor to have. He respected the staff here in an old style that many faculty have no concept of. Nevertheless, he had academic stature that many of them will never achieve. He was a dyed-in-the-wool Giants fan, going back to New York days. He knew what is was to watch Willie Mays turn the cavernous centerfield of the Polo Grounds into his front lawn. He and I had many great conversations about the Giants, about folklore, and jokes bad and good. Humor was one of his many fortes. Clearly, he was a rich man on many levels, and I am richer for having known him as superficially as I did. I will raise a glass to his memory, and certainly the first overpriced beer I drink at SBC Park this spring. I will listen to Giants games as always and remember him stopping at my door to check the count and the inning. If I'm lucky, I will still hear from somewhere a deep baritone comment on the action, and be thankful.