We do not accept the undesirable aspects of the human condition. We challenge natural and traditional limitations on our possibilities. We champion the use of science and technology to eradicate constraints on lifespan, intelligence, personal vitality, and freedom. We recognize the absurdity of meekly accepting “natural” limits to our lifespans. We expect life to move beyond the confines of the Earth – the cradle of human and transhuman intelligence – to inhabit the cosmos.
– Max More (he made the name up), President of the Extropy Institute
Transhuman horse manure!
I’m not looking forward to pushing up daisies, but I tend to agree with the assessment offered by Henry Miller in Wisdom of the Heart regarding the presence of death in this crazy world.
“In the attempt to defeat death, man has been inevitably obliged to defeat life, for the two are inextricably related. Life moves on to death, and to deny one is to deny the other,” Miller wrote.
Death is everywhere you look every day.
Just a few days ago, I learned that former major league shortstop Dick Groat had died at the age of 92. Groat won a batting title, an MVP award, and a World Series in 1960 while playing for the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Groat had also excelled at Duke University in an entirely different sport and made such a lasting impact that in 2007 he was inducted into the National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame. In 1951, Groat’s roommate at Duke was Ed Nixon, former President Richard Nixon’s younger brother.
(In Oliver Stone’s film “Nixon” the part of Ed Nixon was played by Michael Stone – Oliver’s boy, not me. But more Stones to come.)
Things in the research rabbit hole soon grew much darker. While Groat lived a long successful life, Hall of Famer Ed Delahanty did not. He played most of his career with the Philadelphia Phillies in the late-19th century and died mysteriously at the age of 35 on July 2, 1903. Some say he was thrown off a bridge into the Niagara River; others say he was intoxicated and fell, but his body was found at the base of the Horseshoe Falls, the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, seven days after he disappeared.
On July 15, 1944, Porter Moss, a pitcher for the Memphis Red Sox of the Negro American League, was shot on a train by a belligerent passenger. According to the Cincinnati Enquirer’s website, “a doctor at the next stop refused to treat him because he was Black. He lost too much blood by the time he made it to another hospital (12 hours later, according to a Wikipedia article) and died.”
Porter’s assailant was sentenced to 10 years in prison.
Or consider the sad story of Nick Adenhart of the Los Angeles Angels who died at just 22 in 2009 when the Mitsubishi Eclipse he and three others were riding in was hit by an intoxicated fool driving a minivan. Courtney Peterson and Henry Pearson also died. Miraculously, Jon Wilhite survived the violent collision despite suffering an internal decapitation.
No Angels player wore Adenhart’s No. 34 until Noah Syndergaard (nicknamed Thor) took the mound wearing the jersey on April 9, 2022, the anniversary of Adenhart’s death.
The drunk driver was sentenced to 51 years.
Now that I’ve cast a dark cloud over your day, let’s see if I can let in a ray of sunlight.
On Wednesday, May 3, a 24-year-old right-hander out of Lake City, Arkansas, was called up to make his MLB debut for the Los Angeles Dodgers so the team could give Thor – now back in the NL – an extra day off.
The right-hander’s name was Gavin Stone and he was born on the exact same day as my son, Parker Stone. Gavin is the son of Kerry and Jennifer. Parker is the son of Michael and Sheri. So, while we were buying baby food and changing diapers, so were Kerry and Jennifer. I wonder if both boys were fans of Rafael Furcal, who played for both the Braves and Dodgers.
Gavin might be an inch taller than Parker, but Parker is heavier, in part due to all the protein shakes he drinks and the time he spends at the gym.
Unfortunately for the Stones, Gavin gave up five runs in four innings against the Phillies and wound up back at the Dodgers’ Pacific Coast League affiliate in Oklahoma City a couple of days later.
But he’ll be back. And when he returns, I’ll be rooting for him. He’s family after all. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.
Selah.