In a post earlier today, I referred to the legendary Dodger sportscaster Vin Scully, whose voice has been familiar to me literally for as long as I can remember. Since I was a very young child. We listened to him around the swimming pool on those warm southern California nights, and, like most seated near us, even when we were in the stands at Dodger Stadium. Now in his eighty-eighth year, he’s still calling the play-by-play.
Last night, during a game broadcast, he calmly told of the fairly substantial earthquake that had just struck near La Habra, not too far from where my parents lived until they passed away and where one of my nephews now lives, and that had jarred Dodger Stadium itself:
He astonishes me. It will represent the passing of an era when he finally walks away from that microphone. I wonder if he has any idea how much he has meant, and continues to mean, to hundreds and hundreds of thousands, and probably to millions, of people. He certainly meant a great deal to my father. Like a warm family friend, invited into the home several times each week.