The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light

Well, it’s baseball season again. The Cardinals are off to a good start, managing somehow without Albert Pujols. Growing up in Cardinal-town, I have been a fan for many a year. My first baseball memory is in 1964 watching the final game of the World Series on a little black and white TV in my third grade classroom. I hardly knew what baseball was then, but I knew we were doing something special. I hit my peak in 1967 when we won the World Series with the help of my hero Tim McCarver. I even had a scrapbook. I have fond memories of 1982 and 2006 as well.

My grandfather, Daniel Herbert Hilton Cameron III, was a big baseball fan as well–of the Boston Red Sox! I forgave him for that. He loved the game and played it as a boy.

Bunker Cameron at Camp Abnaki in Vermont around 1911. He's the one on the far right with his elbow out.

"The baseball crowd" at the Feller Institute in Quebec 1916--Bunker is in the middle with the x written on his chest.

The Feller Institute was the French-speaking Baptist boarding school in Saint Blaise Sur Richelieu, Quebec that his father sent Bunker to after he was asked to leave Tilton Academy. I suppose he thought it would be strict enough to handle Bunker, but he was asked to leave that school too. Apparently it didn’t take much to get thrown out of a prep school in those days. (Bunker was thrown out of three.)

Ultimately, Bunker ended up at the University of Vermont back in Burlington without having actually graduated from high school. He would have played baseball there, I’m sure, but he left with a friend to go to Boston to enlist in the army during WWI. The war ended before they could sort out their options.

But we were talking baseball. Go Cards!