Photography as a Spiritual Practice
Crossing the Divide
Guest Writer: Alan Schlesinger
My wife and I had moved to Asheville, NC, in retirement less than a year ago. The town is nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is a beautiful cultural center for music and art. It is a Mecca for tourists who enjoy hiking, visiting countless microbreweries, and savoring the impressive foodie offerings in this quirky mountain town in Western North Carolina. It is fitting, therefore, that the Class A minor league baseball team that plays here at the legendary 100-year-old McCormick Field is named the Asheville Tourists.
Over the years, fans have had the honor of seeing the likes of Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Jackie Robinson play in this historic ballpark nestled into the mountains surrounding Asheville.
Soon, my wife and I attended a game with some new friends we met in Asheville. It was a beautiful, balmy summer evening, and the game was exciting as the last-place Tourists beat the Winston-Salem Dash 6-1. It was a sellout crowd, with a huge number of families with young children enjoying America’s pastime and dollar hotdog night rather than their electronic devices. Two towering home runs by the home team Tourists cleared the tall wall in dead center field and still seemed to be climbing as they left the ballpark. A glorious fireworks display capped off the evening, as it was a “Fireworks Friday”—a weekly tradition at McCormick Field.
However, the night’s biggest ovation was reserved for a gentleman unknown to me and most of the other fans before that evening—George Sarros, a 98-year-old World War II Navy veteran who threw out the first pitch. He fought in the Battle of Normandy at Utah Beach. The crowd’s response to Mr. Sarros did not end with a standing ovation at the start of the game.
Throughout the nine innings, a steady stream of people—both young and old—made their way to his seat along the third baseline to meet him, shake his hand, and thank him for his service. I took this photograph as he answered questions from three young baseball fans (you can see his signature where the girl on the right had him autograph her cap). He seemed surprised by the outpouring of gratitude from the fans at the game. I have to admit that I, too, was caught off guard by the response. In these days of political polarization, where even the definition of the term “patriot” sometimes seems divisive, the sellout crowd of 4100 people (including the progressive “elites” who live in the liberal town of Asheville and the right-leaning citizens from the surrounding rural countryside) came together to celebrate this gentleman and express their gratitude for the sacrifices of this patriot and the countless others of the “greatest generation” who took up arms to save democracy.
As a son of refugees liberated by the Allies in World War II, I was honored to wait my turn, shake his hand, and offer my grateful thanks.
Alan Schlesinger
Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/