A Quaker Story of Remembrance –and Maybe Prophecy
Pirates Six, Cubs Three
Pittsburgh, PA, sometime in the 1980s.
I wasn’t having a good night. And I hadn’t had a good day. Needleman in the Washington office had called just after lunch. “Nelson,” he barked, We need you here right away.”
I had to help the boss get ready for a big hearing before the Defense Systems Commission. Tomorrow.
I told him I’d promised to take the kids to a ballgame.
Needleman wasn’t impressed. “They play ballgames in Pittsburgh every night, Nelson,” he said. “We get a chance at a hundred million dollar contract once every ten years, if we’re lucky. This hearing could win it for us. The boss needs your data, and he needs you here to explain it to him. Tonight.”