On Sunday, December 15 at 3 pm Eastern, Paula Kurman, widow of major league baseball pitcher and author Jim Bouton, will join us for a Casual Conversation. She comes to us courtesy of classmate Chip Elitzer, who writes: “Paula’s book about their [hers and Jim Bouton’s] life together, ‘The Cool of the Evening,’ has just been published. In a way, it’s the completion of a trilogy, following Jim’s classic, ‘Ball Four,’ and his recounting of our adventure together in Pittsfield [MA], ‘Foul Ball Part II.’”
Ms. Kurman’s book can stand alone, as a story of the life together of two very similar and very different people. It is a love story and one of lives joined together for more than 40 years. Perhaps we all need a love story about now, in this our times and in this our time of life. For from the beginning—struck by lightning (a la Juliet)—to the end “The Cool of the Evening” offers us lessons of life well lived, and a template on how to face its ending. Jim Bouton suffered from vascular dementia which resulted in a progressive loss of his physical faculties and his cognitive abilities. But even at the very last, Jim Bouton found ways to communicate with his beloved partner and she found ways to understand what he was “saying.” Just before he died, she said to him:
“’Listen, my love, its’s okay to let go now. The game is over. They’re turning the lights out in the ballpark. It’s time to go. You pitched a great game. Nobody could have played the game any better than you did. You were wonderful, and now it’s the cool of the evening. The cool of the evening. Time to relax, let go, and feel the wonderful sore tiredness of muscles you’ve used well . . . time to celebrate what you’ve accomplished . . .”
A lot happened between the lightning and the time to let go, and Ms. Kurman tells it well. Be there when she shares some of what her life with Jim Bouton was like. Join us this Sunday, and, as always, let me know that you want to come by emailing me at arthur.fergenson@ansalaw.com by this Friday, December 13 at the close of business.
Arthur Fergenson