Patrick Ewing is Quite Tall

A final piece of seasonal procrastination:

Tall people do not run in my family. My father ran (he could do a mile in 4:30 in the early 1940's, and was a state champion of Mississippi  in longer distances), but he was only 5 ft 8 ins (176 cm) tall. I am the tallest woman in my family at 5 ft 5, although I suspect by now my niece has taken that crown. 

Once upon a time when I lived in Toronto, a kind congregant gave me courtside seats for the Knicks game. I was a little late getting there, and just as I was crossing the court, the national anthems were played and I had to stand still. I found myself standing right next to Patrick Ewing. I just looked it up and he is 7 ft tall (213 cm). I looked up at him and he was so tall. So very tall. I had never before been that close to someone that tall. I didn't yet know the words to the Canadian anthem, so  instead of singing along, I admired Patrick Ewing.

It would certainly be nice to be a bit taller, able to reach for things on the top shelves instead of looking for someone to help me in the supermarket (or trying by myself and ending up buried in a pile of boxes on the floor), able to see what's going on up front and, of course, reducing my BMI measurement. But hey, if I'd have any interest in them, I'm tall enough to be allowed on all the rides at the amusement park; and it's easier to get lost in a crowd if I'm on the run. Not that I am a runner. That is something of my father that passed me by. I prefer buses. Preferably old Routemasters.

Ok, ok, back to work. Go Knicks!