Darling Sylvia,

You were then and are now my only one.  It was in the fall of 1967, standing with you in my arms in front of Newberry Hall, that I first realized I had found my only one.  This incredibly beautiful, bright, strong-willed girl loved God, her family, nature and, most amazingly, me.  You were my only one.

Last Saturday night, we took ourselves out for a post-Covid ’20-’21 date; the Rome Braves were meeting the Bowling Green Hot Rods at State Mutual Stadium. It was a perfect evening for us to try playing in a crowd once again. The anthem was sung; fireworks were on deck for post-game. The sun set through pink clouds over the river. The musical chairs kids got dizzy, and the protesting coach was ejected from the game. We were surrounded by multigenerational families, groups of friends, and other couples enjoying being together again with the Great American Pastime. The temperature was warm, and everything was chill.

And then, wham, we had one of those Holy Ground, take your breath away, moments. “The Circle of Life” began to play, the Simba Cam panned the stands, and, all around us, mothers, dads, and grandparents lifted babies and toddlers overhead, presenting them to the world as princes and princesses. There was a catch in my throat when I realized what they were doing. The humanity of it all! I reached for your hand and looked into your eyes and found tears that                                                              matched mine running down your cheeks. After 54 years, my tender-hearted Alma Lassie, you still are my only one.

                                                  Love,          Eddie Bert