In Cambridge before video games were a thing, kids played the game of stick ball. Using card board bases, a ball (rubber pinky, pimple or half ball) and a broom handle, we played a short version of baseball which made it fit the close quarters of back yards, alley ways and busy streets.

The toughest part of playing stick ball was maintaining a ready supply of balls & sticks to keep the game going (no internet required). Home run balls often landed on roof tops or grouchy neighbor yards and tended to put an end to the game until someone came up with a new ball. Sticks often were repurposed for spears, javelins or pretend rifles.

A STICK BALL BAT GOLDMINE

On the corner of Pleasant Street and Putnam Ave there was an old red brick building that ran for blocks along Pleasant Street up to the entrance of the old Stop & Shop parking lot. A small portion of the building was a used as broom manufacturing business, but the rest of the site was a mass of broken windows and abandoned office spaces which became a magnet for kids like me in the neighborhood. One day while exploring the backside loading dock … I discovered a stack of the most beautiful unfinished broomsticks I had ever seen.. To me it was like looking a pile of Louisville Sluggers straight off the assembly line. My thought ran straight to…they will never miss one….and ..why would they keep such beautiful bats out here on the dock and not locked up inside??? I had to have one…

I reached for what I thought was the perfect stick ball bat and pulled it from the pile. The stick was smooth and smelled of fresh wood….I held it in my hands admiring the perfect weight of my new home run driver, when a hand grabbed me by the shoulder.

“What are you doing in here son?”

I dropped the stick and turned to see the man behind the voice. I didn’t look up because I knew I was in deep trouble.

“I was taking a broom stick to use as a stick ball bat” I said. I’m sorry mister, I didn’t think anyone would miss me taking just one… they were just sitting on the dock out here…

Well.. You seem like a good kid so I’ll let you take one… but the sticks are used to make brooms here in the factory. That’s how we make our living do you understand?

I looked up and noticed that the man was blind.. and I realized that everybody in the factory was also.. He told me all about the training and skill involved with broom making. I was surprised to see how well the blind workers moved about so effortlessly during the manufacturing process.

So no more pinching our broom sticks… OK?

OK… I’ll never do it again… I promise… Thank you for the stick..

As I walked home I thought a lot about the blind man.. He didn’t get mad, call the police, call my mother, the FBI or send me to a juvenile home or anything I would expected and certainly deserved. He didn’t focus on the mistake I’d made… but rather focused on teaching me a lesson that I still remember every time I pass the corner of Pleasant & Putnam.

I also acquired a love for the look and feel of an old fashion broom .. but I think the thing that swept me away (pun intended) the most that day was that a blind man could see something in a little kid that I hadn’t seen myself… I wasn’t perfect…I’d made a mistake, I learn from that mistake and I’d grow up to become a little bit better kid from Cambridge.