Jackie Robinson and me

Jackie Robinson passed away 50 years ago today in the northern portion of my hometown of Stamford, Connecticut. 

Robinson means so much to minorities like myself in general in this country that it is virtually impossible to measure the impact he has made. His appearance with the Dodgers predates Brown vs. Board of Education and Rosa Parks.  From the days when we were labeled "colored" or Negroes, or "black' or "African American" (pick your term) Robinson has to be considered the person most responsible for acceptance into a society which purposely excluded a group of people simply based on the color of the skin that person was born with.  A hard concept for young people to grasp today, to be sure.  His mark on American society cannot be measured on any normal scale. 

In April of 2013 a motion picture was released called "42".  When I picked up a DVD copy of it I saw someone on a social media post say that it was "okay" and that "you won't learn anything that you didn't already know".  Well, that may be true for some people, but I bet that many people, especially those who may have been  under the age of 25, may actually have learned something that they hadn't known previously.  Such as seeing a restroom door with the words "WHITE ONLY" painted on it.  Or a stadium entrance marked "COLORED" over the walkway.

My Jackie Robinson experience is vivid.  I can still see it in my mind's eye, as if it happened yesterday.

It was September of 1972. I was born and raised in Stamford, Connecticut and Jackie and wife Rachel Robinson lived in the northern part of town. Not far from where I would someday attend high school.  It was probably around 7:30 p.m. and my dear mother and I were waiting for my older sister to emerge from the A&P grocery store in the nearby town of Riverside.  While we waited, and as the sun was quickly setting, we watched a grey-haired man with a cane emerge from the store and make his way to his parked car.  He was roughly 30 feet in front of our 1971 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight when he slowly stepped off the curb.

I recall thinking that I should know who the man was but was drawing a blank as most 10 year-olds like myself at the time are wont to do.

"Do you know who that man is?", my mother asked.  I didn't think she knew and that was the reason for the question. "No... I don't" I replied. "That's Jackie Robinson", she told me.  I immediately sat up straighter in my seat.  I didn't feel compelled to jump out of the car as I respected his privacy and I would've been far too nervous to utter a word to him if I had done so. What would I have said, anyway?  I was but 10 years old and not very educated on the legacy which he had bestowed upon this country. I just watched him make his way in front of me, in mild awe that he was so close. The years had worn him down and was already blind in one eye along with having been diagnosed with diabetes. He moved like someone who was closer to 83 years of age not the 53 years he'd lived to that point. Maybe I thought that I may have another opportunity to meet him in the future, as he did live in my hometown.  

He made his final public appearance a few weeks later on October 15, 1972 when he threw out the first pitch before game 3 of the World Series in Cincinnati. He passed away just 9 days later in my hometown, four days before my 11th birthday.

I didn't meet him. I didn't speak to him. But my memory of that evening in September 1972 is one of the best memories of my life because of the people involved in it. My mother, who was totally in a class by herself and Jackie Robinson, who, given his contribution not only to baseball but to this great country, opened his own school of classes to so many people- myself included. It was a seminal moment which linked, quite possibly, the two most important people of my entire existence.

Life is a string of moments. Most of them are mundane, common and without any real significance over the long term. But every once in awhile you find yourself involved in one which stays with you for the remainder of your days on this earth. May you all have as some of these moments as I have. Thanks for letting me share this one with you.

I'm just sayin'.