Why buy good luggage?

“Why buy good luggage? You only use it when you travel.” — Yogi Berra

I WISH Yogi Berra a very long life. I feel like he’s my friend, my uncle, my language teacher. I feel like I am on a first-name basis with him. He’s so cuddly.

However, I am hedging my bets, since Yogi is 85 now. That’s why I went out and bought an authenticated, documented, autographed baseball by Yogi Berra. Because Yogi has clearly influenced the English language more than any English professor, writer, novelist or journalist in 100 years, I figure the worth of his autographed baseball will rise astronomically when the School of Higher English finally calls him home.

My bet is a variation, I guess, on Yogi’s funeral wisdom:

“Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t go to yours.”

Sometimes, given Yogi Berra’s monumental contributions to language and culture, you can forget that he actually did play a game, baseball.

“90% of the game is half mental.”

But what is baseball compared to Yogi’s major linguistic contributions?

“I usually take a two-hour nap from 1 to 4.”

“If I didn’t wake up, I’d still be sleeping.”

Yogi’s wisdom covers all fields, not just sleeping and dying (and not just the ball field). Timothy Gietner, the United States Secretary of the Treasury, for example, could learn a lot from Yogi.

“A nickel ain’t worth a dime anymore.”

And the demographers, the people who worry about population and overpopulation, obviously should pay more attention to Yogi.

“Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

Yogi’s wisdom is not just global; it is domestic. His wife, Carmen, and his son, Tim, were once in the backyard gardening. Yogi, regular guy that he is, notwithstanding his professorial mien, began complaining about getting scratches and mud all over his hands. His wife got mad, and finally threw him a pair of gloves. Yogi replied:

“The only reason I need these gloves is ‘cause of my hands.”

(Incidentally, much as I love Yogi, I have to admit that I did not do all of this research myself. A wonderful little tome, entitled The Yogi Book, and subtitled, “I Really Didn’t Say Everything I Said,” written by Yogi himself [Workman Publishing], has helped me a lot.)

As influential as Yogi has been on American civilization, he has, as you might imagine, also been influential on his family.

Wife Carmen: “I need to go shopping for clothes to shop in.”

Son Tim: “I knew exactly where it was, I just couldn’t find it.”

Son Dale: “The similarities between my father and me are different.”

And yes, Yogi  has blessedly  discovered the continuity of generations. Granddaughter Gretchen:

“Grammy has so many clothes, she never wears the same outfit once.”

ALL kidding aside, the sheer breadth of Yogi Berra’s influence and insight is astonishing.

“Little League baseball is a good thing ‘cause it keeps parents off the streets and kids out of the house.”

Like many eminent people, Yogi has to put up with his share of detractors. In the dugout, someone once said to him: “Yogi, you’re ugly.” Sitting there in the dugout, stunned, Yogi was quick on his feet:

“So? I don’t hit with my face.”

The truth is, no one is perfect, and Yogi does sometimes get mixed up. One time his wife was going to have the blinds repaired, only Yogi didn’t know it.

He was downstairs when his son Larry called out, “Dad, the guy is here for the venetian blinds.” Yogi told him:

“Look in my pants pocket and give him five bucks.”

It’s true in every profession — for some strange reason, no matter how many truly high quality contributions one makes, a person is remembered for just one or two that stand out.

“You can observe a lot by watching.”

“When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

“It’s deja vu all over again.”

Like all profound thinkers, Yogi is sometimes misunderstood because people lack the context whence his wisdom springs. For example, when he said, “It’s deja vu all over again,” he was commenting after Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris hit back-to-back homeruns. “Makes perfect sense to me,” said Yogi, glossing his own comment.

Then there was the time the head of New York Yankees public relations called Yogi late. Yogi sleepily answered the phone. “Sorry, Yogi,” the PR man said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Yogi:

“Nah, I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.”

Yogi’s preeminence notwithstanding, he is a humble man.

“If you ask me a question I don’t know, I’m not going to answer.”

“We made too many wrong mistakes.”

Yogi is also a realist.

“If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, you can’t stop them.”

Another one of Yogi’s fine character traits is devotion to his wife.

“We have a good time together, even when we’re not together.”

But no one is perfect and sometimes Yogi does get pessimistic.

“The future ain’t what it used to be.”