A KNOCK ON THE DOOR

Then is now. Now is then. It is Feb 24, 2007. It is April 15, 1955. Bobby and Mike are at Mike`s house in Sarasota. Bobby and Mike try out for Roslyn`s baseball team. The list of who made the team is posted in the corridor of the school. Mike becomes right fielder, Bobby warms the bench. Both youngsters are enabled to meet new friends (we are new to Roslyn) and both youngsters have the privilege of being guided by Mr. Pollitt.
It is 9:00PM in Sarasota. Gina has been kind enough to tell us an hour earlier that Mr. Pollitt now lives in Sarasota. Mike grab that phone book. We got it, here`s the address. Get your hat, take the map, let`s go. The streets wind around, the mail box numbers, for us, are hard to see..... this is it, the lights are on. Mike, you knock on the door. Please be well, please be able, please be home.
         A lady opens the door and peers out. Can I help you? We were students of Mr. Pollitt 50 years ago. With no hesitation, after motioning to someone in the room, would you like to come in?
We look at the gentleman. He moves briskly even in night clothes and bathrobe his strength is apparent. Still we cannot affirm until the twinkling blue eyes gaze upon us.
         It is Feb. 26, 2007 as we type this. The elation is still with us. In 2 hours the bridges of the three lives are crossed, intertwined and recalled. Mr. Pollitt, Coach Pollitt, is magnificent. He recounts his sports anecdotes with a self-deprecating humor, brings back Roslyn High memories for Mike and I to to taste and savor forever. He looks directly at us and asks each of us about ourselves. He listens, laughs, comments and cares.
         The door opens. Embraces but no good-byes.
         The knock on the door, the opening of the door, the pure joy of it all.

Mike Stoller and Bobby Frankfort