If you are not from Philadelphia, today may lack meaning for you, but for those of us who hang around the great City of Brotherly Love today is a day of mourning. Harry died in the announcer's booth yesterday.Perhaps the most famous voice in the tri-state area, Harry Kalas called Phillies games since 1970 – in other words, I have never watched or listened to a game without him. He would declare, “It’s outta here!” and a whole town would cheer. The stories of his graciousness are well known and my own children would use their binoculars to look for him in the booth every time we went to the stadium. He was as beloved as our players.
After I heard the news, I sent a message to a great friend who recently moved out west to let him know. His response intrigued me. He noted that Harry had died doing something he loved, and then my dear friend wondered if he would do the same.
I considered his words for a long time. Funny, but I am not afraid to die. I am far more afraid to live without becoming who I was made to be – to never know what it’s like to rest in peace while I am yet alive.
2 comments:
Ive heard this phrased another way recently, and I'll have to job my feeble mind to think where it was - but i heard "It's not death that scares me. It's not living a life good enough right here right now that scares me."
rip - harry the k
beautiful way to state that last paragraph.
I knew Harry from the NFL... LOVED the guy... the NFL Films stuff and the Sunday night games on radio. I know why you "brotherly love types" will be mourning.
I didn't have much of an investment in Skip Caray, but I miss him when compared to the new guy.
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