RIVER CITY JOURNAL: FOR ONE SWEET WEEK OF SUMMER, ALL'S WELL WITH THE WORLD

If memories are the scrapbooks of our lives, right now may be the busiest time you've ever been cutting and pasting.

Here's a little secret: I'm a fair-weather sports fan.

You know my type. We only like to root for winning teams. We watch reruns of "Law and Order" instead of baseball games. We've never purchased a season ticket in our lives. We would never make it in the land of the Chicago Cubs.

The closest I've ever come to being a true-blue fan was during our years in Kansas. Both my wife and I found ourselves watching every KU basketball game on TV -- and they were all televised. We even went to Lawrence a couple of times to see the Jayhawks in person. Once, at a benefit auction, we came this close to meeting Roy Williams, the KU coach. Heck, we could recite the names of the starting lineup. And get this: My wife is a Mizzou grad. Go figure.

Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when the Kansas City Royals were the hot ticket in baseball, we became Royals fans. For a while, we lived just 15 minutes from the stadium in Eastern Jackson County. It was easy to support a team that won so many games and attracted enough supporters to fill up all the seats on a regular basis.

Over the years, I have taken some satisfaction in watching other sports enthusiasts come over to my way of thinking. They were disillusioned by money-grubbing athletes, among other things. The final blow was the baseball strike. Some folks who had been fans all their lives said they'd never watch another game.

Hello, I said. Welcome to my club.

Here's another confession: This year is different. Don't ask me to explain why. Either you know, or you aren't even a fair-weather fan. You actually watch "News Hour" every night on PBS and understand what those folks are talking about most of the time.

How many months have we endured national and world news that made us feel squishy inside? Whether you support the president or want to see him impeached, you have to admit that the daily doses of male hormonal stupidity have been hard to take. Whether or not you support the United Nations Security Council on its handling of Iraq, you have to admit that watching Saddam Hussein get fatter and sassier hasn't been easy to take. Whether you're a Republican or a Democrat, you have to admit that negative campaign advertising may be the single biggest factor in rampant voter apathy.

Then, just when you thought you couldn't take it any more, along came a guy named Mark McGwire. Big Mac just loves to hit baseballs over the fence. And like that little pink windup rabbit with the drum, McGwire just keeps going and going and going.

Suddenly, baseball is America's pastime again. Hallelujah!

And what a magic week this has been. Who will forget No. 62? Or how our collective chests swelled with pride? Or how relieved we were that something good -- genuinely uplifting -- could consume us?

But wait. That's not all.

On the very day of McGwire's record-breaking blast -- in anticipation, no doubt, of the national jubilation that would follow -- the stock market posted its biggest gain in history. Oh, sure, the market sagged again the next day. It is the stock market, after all.

And the weather. Did you notice the morning air the day after McGwire hit his 62nd home run of the season? Can you think of any weather anywhere that could top this?

Meanwhile, down in Sikeston, a fellow is all caught up in growing the biggest watermelon ever. Just like McGwire, the watermelon farmer has his sights set on a goal that no one else has ever achieved. Will he make it? How big will that record-breaking watermelon be? It turns out I'm a fan of watermelon records too. Go figure.

And at the movie houses, there are the usual dank cinemas full of blood and gore and enough foul language to keep factories producing bars of soap around the clock for a long time to come. But wait. What's this? A new movie version of "Cinderella" called "Ever After." Is it possible that a movie can still have a happy ending -- not to mention a good beginning and a satisfying middle?

Yes. It is possible.

It is possible for us to rise above the sludge and mayhem all around us. It is possible to find beauty and inspiration and joy in a baseball cracked by a well-swung bat. It is possible to smile when Cinderella dishes out a little bit of social justice to a befuddled but good-hearted Prince Charming. It is still possible to cheer for not-so-little things like 200-pound watermelons. It is still possible to experience the overpowering pleasure of a deep breath on a clear morning just as the sun is rising, promising a great new day.

Heck, it may even still be possible to make a buck on the stock market. Buy low. Sell high.

OK. That's not so inspirational. We'll have to work on that one a bit more.

For now, I'm the biggest fan Mark McGwire ever had.

If I had caught home-run ball No. 62, I would have gladly given it back to the slugger just so I could tell him in person:

Thanks.

Thanks a lot.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.