The 1957 World Series

Let’s just say that today I am not at my best. I have seriously contemplated a “I am too sick to create today” blog message. The truth is; even illness brings ideas from the Holy Spirit. I have thought a great deal today about a point in history mentioned in my last blog. In 1957 I was nine years old. That year has the distinction of being host to the second last serious influenza pandemic of the twentieth century. The most serious was at the conclusion of the First World War in 1918, which is coincidently the year of my father’s birth. More than fifty million people died due to lack of prevention and medical intervention capabilities. The last pandemic of the twentieth century occurred in 1968 and 1969 and was dubbed The Hong Kong Flu. In 1957 the advent of antibiotics developed during the Second World War minimized to some extent the effects of the epidemic that spread through Canada in the autumn of that year. Hopefully the threat of the current H1N1 pandemic can be even more efficiently handled in this the modern age of medical science.

I know it was in the fall months of 1957 because of the events that continue to loom large in my aging mind. I remember becoming so ill at school that I collapsed to the floor. In those days ambulances were not easily thought of or indeed called. Parents were called to remove children fallen from illness. My mother came to school and walked me home with some difficulty. I would not be back to school for at least a month. With the exception of surviving two successive major surgeries for cancer, I have never been more ill in my life. My sister’s infant daughter, who also lived with us, was the next to become ill. I still remember the painful coughing and resulting crying of my niece who is a mere eight years younger than me. The family doctor visited each morning to treat the two of us. I am not kidding! He showed up for a HOUSE CALL each and every morning for days. As I was beginning to improve just slightly, a wonderful thing happened. My father became ill with the same flu and actually could not go to work. It is the only time in my life that I can remember him not going to work daily at 7:20 A.M. Within a week he was a little better and magically the World Series of baseball began on television. As we slowly improved, we watched together, discussed, cheered and thoroughly enjoyed the 1957 World Series on television. We had never watched a television set in our home until the winter of 1956. There was even a family pool created involving very minor amounts of funds that I delighted in collecting triumphantly when I won. I had never watched the World Series before that date and I haven’t watched it since. I think the New York Yankees were in the series, but I really don’t remember. What was memorable about it was I watched it with my father. As our condition improved and the doctor stopped visiting, we had a fantastic time in the middle of crisis. I remember him so fondly from that few weeks!

Do we have a great and wonderful God or what? Some of my fondest memories of my father emerge from a very difficult time. The Lord used that time to allow a bonding between father and son. What mere mortal could think that scenario up! As expressed in Isaiah 55: 8-9, there can be absolutely no doubt:

8 "For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways," says the LORD.
9 "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts.

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