As we all gathered in the newsroom for a recent staff meeting, our new editor, Jim Smith, spoke about some things he saw when he drove by Seaside Park in Bridgeport.

When he talked about watching men playing horseshoes there, it took me down memory lane. My father was an avid horseshoe player who used to go down to Seaside Park to play after work and on weekends with his friends. My brothers and some of his grandchildren also went. I remember back in the '90s, when we used to have an hour lunch break at work, I would drive down to Seaside Park and walk around the track. I used to see Pops there with my sisters' two young sons, Dayshon and DL, who lived in Pops' house. I'd stop and speak to Pops while he was playing horseshoes. I never thought too much about the game before. The correct name of the game, by the way, is "horseshoe pitching" and dates back to ancient Greece and Rome. It seems likely that Roman officers played it during their occupation of Britain when they used "quoits," which, according to the National Horseshoe Pitchers Association of America's Web site (www.horseshoepitching.com), were flat rings of iron or circles of rope for throwing games around stakes. In the course of researching horseshoes for this column, I found out this is still a very popular game in the United States and Canada. Did you know there is also a Horseshoe Pitching Hall of Fame? According to hickoksports.com, there are 122 members in the United States, including 16 women.

Thinking

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back, Pops really enjoyed the friendly competition between him and his friends after working hard for so many years in construction.

Back in the late '70s, dad used to live next to Seaside Park on Henry Street. I can remember him and his late wife, Elnora, and my younger sisters and brothers having cookouts at the park. I even walked dad's dog, "Smokey," to the park. Oh, how he loved that dog.

Now, as the years have passed, my dad no longer walks around Seaside Park, nor does he play horseshoes. The fact is, my dad spends most of his life in a bed, being cared for either at a nursing home or at St. Vincent's Medical Center.

At the age of 72, Pops was diagnosed with diabetes and, now at 78, has had both of his legs amputated.

A few months ago he could no longer eat on his own. My oldest brother, Rodney, and my Uncle Randy, dad's brother, make sure he's taken care of. Dad doesn't speak anymore. Sometimes, it's all he can do to open his eyes. Recently, I read a verse in the Scriptures that says everything is vanity. It's so true. You may be strong and tall today, but tomorrow there's no guarantee where you'll be. I'm glad I was at that staff meeting because now, when I visit my dad, I think back on how life used to be. And I don't think about how things could have been. Instead, I reflect on the many good things life did bring my family.

Marva Hamilton is the librarian at the Connecticut Post and writes on the first Monday of the month. She can be reached at mhamilton@ctpost.com.