Today is Father's Day and I'm thinking about my dad. I think about him a lot since he's been gone, but most of all during baseball season. Baseball is one of those true things that fathers and sons share and pass down, like war stories or treasured heirlooms. It was the one way my father and I could still connect even during those years when we weren't communicating at all.

It was at a Father's Day doubleheader at Shea Stadium where I learned that my dad was a baseball genius. He taught me how to keep score. He knew exactly when the Dodgers bus would pull up to the player's gate before the game so I could get Sandy Koufax's autograph, and how to slip the usher a five so we could get down to the good seats. I inherited from my father, who grew up as a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, the unfortunate genetic trait that makes me live and die with my team even though I know that I am doomed to be bitterly disappointed year after year after year.

Today on Father's Day, I realize that even when communication seems hopeless there is always a way for people to find a connection. Even in Iran, where the government cuts off access to cell phones and TV, but the people use Twitter, YouTube and Facebook to tell the world what is going on in the streets of Tehran. Even in Washington, where the debate over health care becomes louder and more contentious while reasonable compromises are being floated behind the scenes that make finding common ground seem possible.

This weekend, I went to my first game at the Mets new stadium, Citi Field, and I thought about my father. Today I realize that an even better way to honor him would be to figure out how to connect with people when it seems impossible, and how to sidestep the traps that prevent us from communicating. We all have lessons we learned from our fathers. If we are as smart as they were, we take those lessons and use them in our daily lives to make our little corner of the world a better place.

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