“depths of autumn.” Collage, cut New Yorker Magazine paper, 9" x 12" — **“depths of autumn.”**
Collage, cut *New Yorker* Magazine paper, 9" x 12"

I know we’re not deep into autumn.

Here in Atlanta, the leaves are barely turning, and the temps dipped just a smidge about ten minutes ago. But it IS October, and that means we are in the depths of baseball.

The sounds of baseball underscore my collaging.

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t really have a designated studio space. I haul my project into the living room to work on it, then pack it up each night and return it to storage. The Hubs says he loves to see me working on my art while he’s in the living room doing his favorite thing—watching the Atlanta Braves.

He is a life-long fan. Thanks to Hank Aaron, he has loved the Braves since they were in Milwaukee. We’re talking the 1950s. No fair-weathered fan is the Hubs.

I’ve never been into sports. I was drum major of the band in high school, and I was voted Most Spirited White Girl (I know), so I am equipped to show up for the team. But in college, once I was no longer in the band, and once I was no longer dating my football-player boyfriend, I never returned to another football game.

Baseball was never even on my radar until the Hubs came along. After watching Ken Burns’ documentary series about baseball (twice), and after sharing decades of baseball seasons with Hubs, I have a healthy respect for the game.

True confession: I have been known to turn on a game even when Hubs is not at home, just because the ambient sound is so familiar and homey.

I think my all-time favorite thing about baseball is what I call the Little League bounce. When a team of grown-ass professional men win a particularly important game, they come together in a clump and bounce up and down like they are twelve years old. As one unit. It’s the funniest and cutest thing. They are united in glee. During the pandemic, that clump has morphed into a circle, but it’s still adorable.

“Inside Baseball” by Edward Steed The New Yorker , October 14, 2019 — “Inside Baseball” by Edward Steed
*The New Yorker* , October 14, 2019

SO—in honor of the Braves being in the playoffs this week, and in hopes of seeing them do the Little League bounce, the New Yorker issue I chose comes from exactly one year ago, with a cover entitled “Inside Baseball,” by Edward Steed.

As I write this, Hubs is in a dither as the Braves and the Dodgers battle it out in the sixth out of a possible seven games. For those who are not in the baseball-know, if the Braves win today, we’re going to the World Series. If they lose, there will be one more game to determine which team goes.

Hubs is very tense. Now is not the time to remind him that baseball is FUN, remember?? It’s America’s favorite pastime. (Is it still? What about apple pie—? Mmmm. I digress.)

But even when it makes him tense, he still gets so much pleasure from baseball. And that makes me happy. And the sounds of the game—the crowd noise, the organ music, the drums, the chants, the commentators—have accompanied me all throughout this collage project. And throughout the almost three decades of our relationship.

And so as we approach the end of yet another baseball season, I am reminded that, with all the big, heavy issues that we are facing in our world, with the current election climate, with the feeling that the world is teetering on the verge of massive systemic changes (or not), with so much at stake right now, having a pastime might just be our saving grace.

Diversion could be an excuse to bury one’s head, or it just might be the therapy that is needed to keep one sane. As I mentioned last week, I have to remind myself to play. Have fun!

And so, when I came across this week’s title words—”depths of autumn”—I got an instant visual for the collage. It was inspired by a video I’ve seen of a euphoric dog who would ruuuuuun and leeeeeap in to a HUGE pile of leaves that its human had created. Again and again and again. This dog was having SO MUCH FUN. So much joy. Just for the sake of fun and joy.

And since I honored the feline last week, this week I honor the canine. Our best friend who wants nothing more than to love us unconditionally. And to play. And eat. And chase squirrels, And spread joy.

When it seems like the world is on fire, it can feel frivolous to jump in a pile of leaves, to make art for art’s sake, to play (or watch) games, dance in the living room, bounce up and down just because. But we can’t subsist in crisis mode. Well, we can, but we’ll burn out. And then what use are we to anyone?

So this week, I offer you a little frivolity—a dog in a pile of leaves, with a prayer for a collective lightness of being. Just for fun.

P.S. Vote.

P.P.S. Love you!