Paints in front leading the field.
My grandfather, Louis F. Grote, is pitching in this long ago game. He lost that day, but the picture of the game and crowd was lovingly mounted and displayed in his dining room for 62 years until his death in 1977. He was quite a character, hardened by years in the steel mills, yet kind enough to grow roses in his small garden out back. He had a pet nickname for everyone of his grandchildren, most to their utter embarrassment. I remember, after cutting the grass, careening through the side streets of Latrobe ensconced gleefully in his 1949 black Oldsmobile. We never went very far, but it was always an adventure. I am very glad I found this writeup yesterday, it makes him come alive again, and I can see him putting one of my younger brothers or sisters in "The Clampers" and not letting them go. The picture of the game is in the Library of Congress. http://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/pan.6a29249/
The months of training are drawing to a close, soon will be Opening Hunt. No more ratcatchers.
Finally, after many miles and kissing a few frogs, a horse of someone's own. Splash and his 'two faces' is a welcome addition.
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A small graveyard, still kept clean, hidden away from prying eyes. Who recalls their lives? What secrets do the silent stones hold?
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