Well into Day Two of solo parenthood (with three more days on the horizon) my dear friend LF swooped down from the north and took me here,
one of my very favorite places to enjoy a summer evening. We enjoyed a few Old Styles and watched the Cubs win, allowing us to sing Go Cubs Go with all our might. Apparently some dislike this song but it's catchy, it's fun and you know what, the Cubs win every now and then so it's a celebration to sing this silly song with all those remaining in the ballpark at the end of the game.
I love baseball. I used to sit with Nana, my great-grandmother, on the front porch at Oohooh's apartment and listen to baseball on this old black radio that looked like a box. I have a wonderful picture of Nana, with my dad, receiving a team ball at a baseball luncheon, and I have the ball. My grandfather, Bopaw (I've heard all the name jokes before, my family likes to make up names), loved baseball and listened to every Royals game on the transistor radio next to his chair in the family room. I went to game 7 of the 1985 World Series with my dad, my grandfather and my sister. My dad thought I should sit with my sister. She watched "Murder She Wrote" on a hand held television. She denies it but the people sitting behind us would verify my story. Royals won, I think the last time they won a baseball game.
Tonight we are taking Mary and Kate to Wrigley, to the first minor league game to be played there. They are staying up far past their bedtime but tonight they are letting the children run the bases which, in an ongoing effort to relive my childhood, is well worth an hour or two knocked off the beauty sleep.