If you want to meet some of the most passionate and quirky fans in baseball, come to Section 336 in the upper deck of Oriole Park at Camden Yards.

In attempting his 20th crossing June 8, my cousin began having problems about a mile into the swim. Rescuers could not revive him, and he died at age 58. He leaves behind a wife of 31 years.

One hundred years ago on St. Valentine’s Day, George Herman “Babe” Ruth Jr. began his meteoric rise in professional baseball when he signed a contract with the minor league Baltimore Orioles.

For years, a tattered and taped copy of the Aug. 30, 1902, issue of The Catholic Mirror has jockeyed for attention on my sometimes-cluttered desk at the Catholic Review.

Father Dale Picarella had just finished greeting a mob of parishioners at the end of Mass when I approached him in the sacristy with a special request. Would he visit my mother at Bayview Medical Center in East Baltimore as she was recovering from cancer surgery?

The goodness and humility witnessed by the future Baltimore archbishop were on display for all the world Feb. 11 when Pope Benedict XVI quietly announced in Latin that he would step down due to his advanced age and lack of stamina.

My brother was in line at a local supermarket when he observed a young woman strike up a conversation with an apparent longtime friend. Showing off her slightly protruding belly, the younger woman announced that she was pregnant.

Mercy Sister Lois Mueller was a bundle of energy when I first met her at The Villa retirement home in Baltimore three years ago. I was visiting for a story I was writing about how retired nuns kept in shape by playing bowling and other Nintendo Wii video games donated by students of St. Joseph School in Cockeysville.

The Scala Sancta, “Holy Stairs,” are believed to be the passageway Jesus walked on his way to face Pontius Pilate before the crucifixion. St. Helena, mother of Constantine, brought the staircase to the Eternal City from the Holy Land in the middle of the 4th century.

Romanticizing the past fogs its hardship. For all the appeal of bygone days, does anyone really want to go back to 1932, when our grandparents in Appalachia had to haul wood and water, and stoke the stove to cook and clean?