A Voice from the Past

I was saddened by the news tonight that long-time Braves broadcaster and the voice of my youth died at the age of 87. Ernie Johnson will be missed, not only for his golden voice, but for the memories that his voice conjures up.

These are just a few:

- Hot summer days followed by warm summer nights.
- The Braves on TV and Dale Murphy swinging for the fences.
- Sleeping on the trampoline with Tami and Randy.
- Atari baseball with Corey and Rod.
- Drafting Atari baseball teams from stacks of baseball cards.
- A week each July with my cousin, Troy.
- A week each August with my cousin, Brandon.
- Sleeping late.
- Waking up to the vacuum and to the sultry sounds of The Price is Right.
- Little league baseball.
- Big League Chew.
- Fishing under the bridge by the high school.
- Comic Books.
- Dad and Mom at my current age.

Sigh.

And the older I get, the more I realize how short the path is to the end, and how much of life was packed into those years gone by. How I miss the voices from my past. Now, for me, there is a bit of heartache with every setting sun, and the closing line from Gatsby is a poignant dagger:

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.


Rest in peace, Ernie.