Take Me Out to the Ball Game -- Rays v. Yankees

With my nephew TJ

If you've spent more than 15 minutes with me, you probably know that I'm a big Tampa Bay Rays fan. Admittedly, it hasn't been hard to be a fan during my tenure. I started watching the Rays when my dad was living with me early on in the pandemic. It was summer, and what else was there to do while quarantining with a 90 year old man? And so we watched the Rays, who made it to the World Series in that year's reduced 60 game season. What an introduction to the sport! 

I've learned that it's not always quite that much fun to be a fan. But the Rays have been strong contenders since that 2020 season. This year they started off 13-0. It was thrilling. Then they went 8-16 in July. It was utterly depressing. They've suffered injury after injury but keep finding a way to come back. And, knock on wood, it looks pretty certain they'll make the playoffs again this year. All on a $79 million payroll compared to, say, the Yankees' $279 million payroll. Yes, that's a $200 million differential. 

I had the chance to see those two teams face off live and in person last week. Jeff and Amanda Bray, my wonderful realtors, gave me tickets to the game for Christmas. And so my nephew TJ and I headed to Tropicana Field for an up close and personal baseball experience. 

We got there early to walk the concourse and see the complex. I was surprised -- and extremely curious -- to see "Museum" listed on some of the signage. Needless to say, we had to check it out.

The "Museum" is comprised of several alcoves replete with memorabilia. The team is only 25 years old and began its existence as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Apparently they wanted to be the Stingrays but the name was already trademarked by a winter league team in Hawaii. It doesn't seem like there'd be much chance of confusion between the (now defunct) Maui Stingrays and the Tampa Bay Stingrays, but trademark law wasn't my practice area. Not everyone was happy, though, with the "devil" being invoked by the team. And so, when a new owner came in in 2007, he agreed to shorten the team's name to "Tampa Bay Rays." The team wears throwback jerseys occasionally, and some of the players say it brings them luck. 

"Wild: Evan Longoria and the Rays" by John T. Ritter (2023)

The assortment of collectibles ranged from bottled field dirt and used bases from the 2020 World Series to old newspaper articles to images of the team's most famous players. Evan Longoria is one of the team's big names, and there was both a sculpture of Longoria in the Museum and a painting of him in the small art exhibit that opened that day in the concourse. (You read that right -- there was an art exhibit at the stadium. Clearly our outing was meant to be.)

   

Commentators talk about "legend" Evan Longoria, but I've never taken the time to check out why. Suffice it to say there's a reason superlatives are used with his name. The third baseman played for the Rays from 2008-2017 and holds the franchise records for home runs (261), runs batted in (892), walks (569) and runs (780). He was hot from the start, winning American League Rookie of the Year and being named MVP his first four seasons. His stats are helped by the fact that he missed a mere 12 games from 2013-2017. That is insane given the number of injuries players suffer. I am officially impressed and now understand why the painting of Longoria in the exhibit contain's commentator Dewayne Staats' trademark cry of "that ball is gone." For more from the Ray's Artist Series, click here. 

Of course, we were actually there to watch the game. Sadly, that was much less interesting. We had fantastic seats, fewer than 20 rows back and directly behind home plate. All the better to watch pitch after pitch being thrown by both the Rays' Zach Eflin and the Yankees' Gerrit Cole with little offense. 

At the end of the day, each pitcher had 11 strike-outs. I get that some people enjoy watching a pitchers' duel, but some action would have been appreciated. During Sunday's game of the series, Randy Arozarena scored a run without anyone getting a hit. He was walked, stole second base, went to third when the Yankees overthrew second trying to get him out, and slid into home safely after the Yankees overthrew third trying to get him out.  For video of that crazy sequence, click here. Now THAT'S exciting baseball. In the eighth inning Arozarena was hit by a pitch (intentionally?) and the benches cleared -- not once, but twice. Again, pretty exciting. Friday night's game, not so much. Plus the Yankees ended up winning that night. 

Rays' Zach Eflin on the mound

Still, going to see the Rays in person was a great outing. I now better understand the stadium and the baseball-colored dome that is often mentioned as a factor in catching fly balls. (The Trop is an indoor venue. It was actually a bit chilly.) I thoroughly enjoyed being in the stands and rooting for my team. But am I a convert to live v. televised baseball? Nope. From the comfort of my couch the game is much more dramatic. You see close ups of the players' faces, the intensity in their eyes and the tension in their stances. You apppreciate more fully how difficult it is for a player to run down a ball that goes to the wall. You get a peek into the dug out and see manager Kevin Cash maintaining his cool at (almost) all times. (Cash was ejected from an earlier game this season against the Yankees when he went slightly ballistic after Arozarena was hit in two at bats after hitting a home run in the first inning. Coincidence? I think not, and neither did Cash.) And I get to listen to the team's announcers call the game, providing both insights and some laughs. What can I say? I get attached. 

Here's to America Favorite Pastime (a label given to baseball back in the 1850s, but that's a story for another day). Go, Rays!   

You Can Go Home Again

Dad and Mom -- November 30, 1957

You probably won't be surprised to learn that Kansas wasn't actually an art destination for me. While I did find some great art, the real purpose of my trip was to bury some of my father's ashes and to reconnect with family I hadn't seen for almost 40 years. The last time I'd been to Kansas was circa 1983 when I joined Mom at a family reunion after I graduated from college. 

Mom and Dad met in Wichita when she was a newly minted nurse and he was a salesman for a trucking services company. Dad's roommate was a doctor who thought the two of them just might hit it off. Yes, they met on a blind date. Mom was getting cold feet, but her roommate said, "You never know. He might be your knight in shining armor riding up on a white horse." Dad came to pick her up that night in a borrowed white cadillac. They married within months. 

High School Graduation Photo

Wichita was quite a metropolis compared to Burns, Kansas where Mom grew up. But Burns did have schools in the day. A cousin told me Mom's siblings had to either walk the mile and a half to school or ride a horse. Suzanne and I are in agreement that there's no way Mom got on a horse, and we doubt she walked either. Knowing her, she finagled a ride somehow. 

Some other cousins were in town burying their sister-in-law's ashes, and our family turned out to see off someone most of them had never met. That's just the kind of people they are. They hosted a lunch post-service at the Burns Community Center. It was pretty fancy given the town's current population is 296. (The big news was that a pizza place opened recently.)  It's hard to describe how wonderful it was to see these people after so many years. Not surprisingly, my emotions ran high. And as a bonus I got to see the high school graduation photos of my mother and all but one of her siblings. (Posters with photos of senior classes members from 1930 something to the early '60s were the lone decor of the community center.) 

Steve, Molly, Grace and Traver Vestring

Mom was a menopause baby, and ten years separated her from her closest sibling. Her oldest sibling was 22 years her senior. I was ten and Suzanne was seven when we left Kansas for Panama City. So Suzanne and I never really knew our first cousins. I recognized all of them, though, and felt connected. My second cousins -- Rob, Annie, Tex and Steve -- were my age, though, and we played together when we were kids. It was especially great to see them and to welcome the newest kids to the Vestring family -- Grace (age 5) and Traver (almost 3).  I went to the rodeo with them, and they were raring to go in their cowboy hats and boots. If you can believe it, Traver is wearing one of his father's shirts from when he was a kid.  Too adorable. 

Hard to believe this is the best photo
of the bunch -- The Crists circa 1964

The family made sure my social calendar was filled, and one night I had dinner in Wichita with my cousin Vicki and two of her kids. She asked if I'd like to visit the church where my parents were married. Well, yes. It turns out that it's more or less the family church, with numerous Vestring baptisms, weddings and funerals having taken place there. I recognized the altar right away from the wedding photos. We also swung by the duplex they first lived in and the house Suzanne and I first called home. 

And now it's time for a family story. When Mom and Dad were bringing Suzanne from the hospital, they asked me if I wanted to hold her in the back seat on the way home. (This was apparently before car seats were a thing.) I didn't quite understand what was happening -- in my defense, I was only three -- but I apparently was quite disappointed when I opened the blanket to find a baby instead of snacks. What can I say? 

Back to the primary purpose of my trip -- to bury some of Dad's ashes. When Mom passed away in early 2020, one of our cousins took a small urn of her ashes back to Kansas to bury with the family. (Their primary resting spot is in Panama City.)  Both Suzanne and I were overcome when we saw the photo of the burial spot. We knew our parents had a baby that died at birth, but it was not something we really talked about. When they sent the picture to show us where they had buried the ashes --- on our brother's grave -- it was a huge shock. We'd never seen the gravestone so we didn't know Mom had given birth the day before her birthday. Nor did we know he was named after our grandfather and Dad. My parents' loss had suddenly become very real. 

Now Mom and Dad's ashes rest with the remains of our brother. Mom's parents rest by their side, and siblings and other relatives are nearby. As I put the ashes in the ground, our cousins told stories about my parents. They were loved. I was -- and am -- simultaneously heartbroken and joyful that my parents and my brother are together.  As ridiculous as it might sound, I hadn't expected the depth of my emotion. 

Also unexpected was the way our family welcomed me back as if it hadn't been nearly four decades. What I thought would be a one-and-done trip back to Kansas turned into something else entirely. We're talking about a cousins' reunion for next summer. Sure, we are very different people. But we have the same blood running through our veins, and somehow that's enough. Sometimes you can go home again.

The Family that Throws Together....

Suzanne, Tim, Drew, me and TJ (missing Liz -- and Jakie!) 

I wasn't really offended when my sister told me we were going axe throwing over the holidays but that it would probably be best if I just watched. After all, there was that time when I attempted to throw a softball and it landed about two feet in front of me. The mere mention of it makes my family convulse with peals of laughter. Given my clear athleticism -- and the dangers of a sharp-edged instrument -- I was content with the idea of being a bystander. Until, that is, I saw how much fun everyone was having.

Tim throwing two handed while TJ throws with one hand

Our adventure took place at the Axe Throwing Society in Pompano Beach. Two of TJ's friends joined us for the outing, rounding our group out to two teams of three so long as I stayed on the sidelines. We started off with an orientation, some training tips and a safety lecture from Kyle, our personal "axe-pert."

Two players throw at a time in an area contained on both sides by a chain link fence. There's a barrel with an assortment of axes to choose from and two targets. The most important rule: Don't collect your axe until the other person has thrown. It seems pretty self-evident, but the adrenalin can get the better of you sometimes. The second most important rule: If you're not throwing, stay out of harm's way behind the counter situated a few feet behind the competitors. And then there's the rule that visibly intoxicated people wouldn't be allowed to play. The lawyer in me was particularly happy to see that one.

One of Suzanne's early throws

You can throw one- or two-handed. Either way, you need to have your elbows up as if you were doing some tricep work with a weight.  If you elect to use both hands, you lean back a bit before you throw. It's an opportunity to engage your core. (My trainer would be proud.)

The objective in the first game was for a team to get exactly 50 points. I'm not sure how you score darts, but I suspect the systems are pretty similar. Your points increase the closer you get to the target, with the outermost circle being a one and the bullseye being a six. If you happen to hit one of those little blue circles, you get eight points. If your axe sticks outside the target or ends up on the ground (a not infrequent occurrence), you've left your team high and dry. If your team's score surpasses 50, it resets to 44. I have no idea why. Each player gets five throws per round from a distance of 12-15' from the target.

Bulls-eye!  

In the second competition, the teams went up against each other in a game of hangman, with the phrase being "Bad Axe." You threw against an opposing team member, with each player getting three throws. The player with the higher of the two cumulative scores for the round got a letter. By the time this game was over, I was eager to join the fun.

I went up against Suzanne in another round of the 50 point contest. I was quite proud when four out of my first five throws stuck, and I actually got a bulls-eye. Beginner's luck at its finest. (Everyone in our group got at least one bulls-eye over the course of the two hours.) Just in case you're wondering about the odd number of people, our axe-pert joined my team to even things out since the others were now highly experienced throwers. He wasn't particularly good and mentioned several times that it was the first time he was throwing that day.

Last up was a take on some cricket game. The objective was for each team to hit a particular area three times; e.g., three throws hitting the outermost circle. This was clearly a game for more experienced throwers who actually have the ability to aim. Our time ran out well before either team completed this challenge.

It was definitely a fun and unusual way to spend an evening. And while I'm not going to become an axe-pert, I'll definitely do it again. After all, Axe and Bull is just around the corner....

Lowbrow and Highbrow Family Fun

I spent the last week in September at my sister's taking care of Drew, my 13 year old nephew, and Jakie, my four year old nephew dog, while Suzanne and Tim were off on a business boondoggle in St. Tropez.  It was a surprisingly easy and fun week, but for Drew's excruciatingly long flag football game and Jakie's gag-inducing incident. 

I headed back to my sister's last week-end for a responsibility-free and fun-filled couple of days.  On Friday night we headed to the Cine-bowl and Grille in Delray Beach.  (It always pays to keep an eye on those Groupon offerings -- Suzanne scored an hour of bowling for four with shoe rental, a large pizza and a pitcher of beer for $40.)  

Bowler babes

I'll preface this by saying that I am not known in my family as an athlete (and for good reason). Nonetheless, I had visions of breaking 100 on my first bowling outing in many years.  My dreams were dashed when my first four balls ended up in the gutter about halfway down the lane.  Drew kindly suggested that we might put the kiddie bumpers up when it was my turn.  I began eyeing the slide-looking devices the little children in the next lane were using to get their balls going in a straight--if painfully slow--path to the pins.  I lowered my hopes to achieving a double digit score.  I gave up taking a few steps before releasing my ball, sacrificing speed in hopes of a bit more precision.  Despite my absolute and total lack of success, it was great fun with music blaring and videos streaming and copious amounts of unhealthy food being consumed. 

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Suzanne got on an incredible hot streak in the second game.  She rolled two strikes in a row, then a spare, and had scored 121 with a frame or two to go before our time ran out. The boys had headed to the arcade and missed her performance, but Tim and I watched in awe.  Perhaps there's still time for her to join a senior league and get a shirt with her name embroidered across the pocket.

Saturday night found us at the Broward Center for Performing Arts for a performance of "Once."  The show won eight Tony Awards in 2012, including Best Musical, so I was happy to be able to tag along with Suzanne and Tim for the performance.

Before the show began, audience members were invited onstage to check out the set (which was an old mirrored bar) and buy a drink.  Needless to say, I was all over that.  As a bonus, some of the actors came onstage, instruments in hand, and began to play just as I was climbing the steps.  There were fiddlers and a mandolin player, a pianist and an accordionist.  One guy played the tambourine with his foot while strumming a guitar.  The music made me think of gypsies, and the crowd really got into it.  The actors continued playing as the audience members were ushered to their seats, with the music flowing seamlessly into the first song of the show.  Seriously fun.

The story of the play is nothing remarkable -- a disheartened Irish musician whose songs celebrate his lost love meets a woman who encourages and inspires. But I loved the music, and Stuart Ward and Dani de Waal were wonderful in their roles as "Guy" and "Girl."  The choreography was simple, yet beautiful. I especially liked the way the actors were situated so the audience could see their reflections in the various mirrors.  And in a flashback to my work with students learning English as a second language, I laughed as the Czech immigrants worked on their English by watching--and arguing about--their favorite soap opera.  All in all, a highly enjoyable way to spend the evening. 

Water Park Virgin No More

Family vacations are fraught with danger.  If you'd asked me a couple of weeks ago, I would have said that the danger was purely of the emotional variety.   While there was plenty of emotion expended during my recent beach vacation with my family, I also found myself in what felt like physical danger when we spent the day at Shipwreck Island Water Park.

Pirates Plunge

Not having any kids, it's been a long time since I've been to an amusement park.  I have decided there should be a statute of limitations for going on any kind of ride that makes your stomach drop--maybe the last time you went on a coaster plus seven years.  Having violated this rule, I probably shouldn't have been surprised when I found myself screaming and a bit nauseous after even the mildest of rides.  And yet I was.

We started off easy on the White Knuckle River ride (located next to Pirates Plunge, a body slide that was Drew's first stop). Suzanne refers to White Knuckle as a "family ride" because up to four people can get in the inner tube and ride down the 660 foot twisting chute together.  It actually was fun (after the initial drop) to swirl around in the tube until you splash into the pool, and Suzanne and Drew only teased me a little bit about my shrieking.  Maybe I could do this after all.

The Great Shipwreck

After going on a few rides, we had worked up to The Great Shipwreck, a zip line over a pool. I had never zip lined before, so I was a bit nervous.  As you wait in line, you can watch the people ahead of you.  Some made it all the way to the end of the line (approximately 30 feet) before dropping into the water.  Others had a bit more difficulty.  You probably won't be surprised to find out which category I fell into (the operative word being "fell").  Drew had gone ahead of me and was waiting by the ladder where you climb out of the pool.  Having dried my hands off as best as I could, I grabbed the line and, with only a moment's hesitation, stepped off the platform -- and immediately dropped into the water.  The amount of time I actually held onto the line gives new meaning to the word "nano-second."   When I made my way to the surface--quite humiliated--the life guards were shouting to see if I was okay.  Drew said that he wanted to call out too but (i) he was laughing too hard and (ii) he didn't really want people to know he was with me.   I made my swim of shame to the ladder and climbed out, putting on a brave face.    Then Suzanne was up, and of course she made it to the end, doing ballerina moves with her legs the whole time.  I will never live this down.  Later in the week we went to Baytowne Wharf where I tried to redeem myself by going on a more traditional zip line with a harness and a seat.  It was literally terrifying to walk down the ramp and step off into the void.  Zip lining is officially off my list of approved activities.  But I digress...

From there we were off to the "wave pool", which is exactly what it sounds like.  You venture down a beach-like ramp into a big pool and eventually waves start pouring over you.  It was fun but it made me feel like I was going to throw up.  Obviously, it was time for a healthy amusement park lunch!  (As an aside, it didn't take me long to figure out that fruits and vegetables are not part of the diet of many of the Shipwreck Island-goers.  I was thankful for the "no g-strings" sign on the way in, although that's there for modesty/safety rather than aesthetic reasons.  Many of the tourists who were at the water park apparently didn't have mirrors in their hotel rooms.  Many also appeared to have forgotten their sun tan lotion at home -- ouch!!!)

After lunch, we made our way to Skull Island (basically a kiddie pool) to hang out while we digested. If you look in the back of this photo you will see a small body slide called "Pirates Race".  I liked that one.  It was very relaxing in this pool (although the "rain" came down a bit hard on my sensitive skin).

As we were figuring out what was up next on our schedule, we noticed that the life guards were bringing out their yellow slickers.  On cue, we began to hear claps of thunder, and an announcement was made that the rides were closed until the weather had cleared.  I was both disappointed and relieved.

Suzanne and the Jakester

My Shipwreck Island experience was obviously nothing like going to Atlantis where--I hear--you can slip and slide through chutes in shark tanks and participate in other over-the-top rides.  But it was a fun day that will go down in our family history.  While I might be persuaded to go to a water park again, for the time being, hanging out in the pool with Jakie is more my speed.

Prima Doggie

I am in withdrawal.  After two weeks of almost daily yoga classes, I headed over to the East Coast to take care of Drew (my sister's ten year old) and Jakie (the just-turned one year old dog) while the rest of the family went to New York to visit TJ at NYU and to take Elizabeth on some college visits.  The closest I've gotten to yoga in the past couple of days is watching Jakie do upward and downward dogs.  (That always cracks me up.)   I could, of course, do my own practice here, but I tried one downward dog pose and Jakie started licking my leg.  So I'll get back to my new routine next week.

In the meantime, I'm catching up on a lot of paperwork and working around Jakie's schedule.  (If you're getting the sense that I'm here to watch the dog rather than the boy, you've got that right!)  I am learning that dogs have body clocks the same way people do.  Jakie is up and at 'em in the morning, lazes throughout the day, and wilds at night.   I've proposed to Jakie that we go on morning walks, but he is having none of that.  Even though he's only about 12 pounds, when he digs in, that's it.  Instead, like many babies, he wants to go on a car ride.  So one morning I bundled him into the car and went for a short ride to a park.  He sat on my lap while I drove and looked with curiosity at the other dogs out walking with their owners.  (I say "other dogs" but I don't think he recognizes any resemblance to those creatures.)  Things were getting off to a good start at the park but a woman walking with her dog and child suddenly appeared and the dog (a very fluffy white poodle) gave Jakie a friendly bark.  Have I mentioned that Jakie is a scaredy dog?   He hightailed it straight back to the car and I had to carry him in the other direction until we were well out of sight of any other living creature before putting him down.  And though he likes to play in the morning, he wants nothing to do with wet grass (or pavement, for that matter).  One morning he seemed interested in walking on the street until he realized that  it had rained the night before and his little legs are so short that his belly was getting a bit damp.  That was the end of that.   I haven't resorted to putting him in the doggie stroller and going on a constitutional, but if I were going to be here much longer, that would definitely be in my future.

I did manage to go on one outing during my stay to the Boca Raton Museum of Art.  (Trust me when I say that it was incredibly hard to close the door on his sad little face.  I have now figured out that the way to get out the door easily is to use the diversionary tactic of putting human food out for him.  He is truly a Crist.)   Anyway, the Boca Museum had an exhibit on called Big Art::  Miniature Golf that I was interested in seeing/experiencing.  It was a very unusual exhibit, and while I didn't love it, it was definitely creative.  The hole pictured here is called "Trapped in Paradise" and as you enter the hole, a bubble machine is triggered and bubbles waft around you as you putt out. "Chasm" is a play on Catholicism.  There are 352 golf balls hanging from twine on either side of the hole and the goal is to stay on the straight and narrow and hit the ball into a chalice.  The center aisle is intended to represent the nave of a cathedral.  (Surprisingly, I didn't do so well on this one.)   My favorite hole, though, is called "The Life Hole."    You start the hole at birth and play until you reach your death.  Along the way there are sand traps with streaming video graphics with expressions like "your putt is in your hands", "par excellence", and "have fun on the journey."  The graphics in the final trap alternate between "your hole awaits" and a picture of a cemetery. As I said, the exhibit might not be your cup of tea, but it is definitely creative.

The Museum also has a show on display entitled "Contemporary Glass Movement Turns 50."  As long as I was there, I decided to stroll through the exhibit, expecting to see lots of pretty glass bowls and the like.  Instead, it was a really interesting exhibit with works ranging from Tim Tate's multimedia glass work entitled "Falling on Deaf Ears"  to Danny Perkins' Abstract Expressionist-inspired takes on Mount Hood and a city Skyline to Dale Chihuly glass mobiles.  (There were also some pretty bowls.)

After cruising through the glass exhibit I headed out to the sculpture garden, which was my favorite stop of the day.  I had to laugh when I saw "Tete au Carre [Square Head]."  It made me think of Lucy saying, "You're such a blockhead, Charlie Brown."  I'm not sure that that's what French sculptor Sasha Sosno was going for, but it made me laugh, and there's nothing wrong with that.  The sculpture I liked best was a lovely bronze entitled "Woman Walking" by Lynn Chadwick.  It was made to scale and, while somewhat abstract, captured a female figure walking purposefully towards her destination.  The sculpture reminded me, though, that I'd been away from home a while and it was probably time to head back and try and get Jakie out for a walk.

When I watched the kids last year when Suzanne and Tim took TJ to college, I came away exhausted and with a much greater appreciation of the schedule of a stay-at-home-mom.  This year I'm coming away with an appreciation of what a commitment it is to have a pet.  There are incredibly wonderful moments, and you  feel very loved, but it is definitely a lifestyle decision.  I'm sure that if Jakie were my dog, I'd get used to leaving him while I went about my life.  As a petsitter, though, it makes me feel too guilty so I'm just enjoying our time together.  Tomorrow's time enough to get back to my real life.      

The Nina and the Pinta (but no Santa Maria)

You never know what's going to happen next in Punta Gorda. On December 20th, the Nina and the Pinta sailed into Charlotte Harbor and docked at Fisherman's Village. My folks were here for a couple of days post-Christmas and Dad and I took advantage of the opportunity to go on board these hand-built replicas of Christopher Columbus' ships. Viewing the ships was mildly interesting. What made the outing enjoyable was talking to some of the volunteer crew members about the ships and their experiences onboard.

Both ships were built by hand by master shipbuilders in Brazil who still use design and construction techniques dating back to the 15th century. It took 20 men 32 months to build the replica 65 foot Nina and 36 months to build the larger Pinta. My favorite part of the Nina was the 550 pound tiller (they didn't have wheels for steering vessels back in the 1490s) that, surprisingly, takes only a few pounds of pressure to move. Even so, I can't imagine that it's very relaxing for the captains of these ships when they journey from point A to point B. I enjoyed hearing about the small cannon aboard the Nina that has the capacity to shoot three pound cannon balls as far as a mile. In the days of Columbus, the cannons were used for signalling the ship's location to the other boats in the fleet--a precursor to the game of Marco Polo. Today the ships shoot their cannons when they come into port but instead of cannon balls they spew hot dog buns!

The most interesting part of the outing for me, though, was when my dad made a throw away comment about "when he worked on the river." What???? This was something that I'd never heard before. Turns out that when he was in his early 20's, he spent some time working for the Federal Barge Line on the towboat Mark Twain that ferried barges carrying coal and fertilizer back and forth on the Mississippi River between Minneapolis and Alton, Illinois. Dad was one of several deck hands on the steamboat, on watch for six hours at a time as the boat made her way through the 26 locks from its starting point to its destination. It wasn't a stretch for him to end up working on the river since his Uncle Blackie was a licensed riverboat captain at a time when captains couldn't rely on their GPS to warn them of sand bars and other obstacles along the way. It just goes to show that you never know what you're going to learn when you head out the door! I'm taking this as a reminder to keep myself open to new experiences as I head into 2012. Happy New Year!

Queen for a Day

Do you remember that TV show "Queen for a Day"?   An array of "ordinary" women told their story to the studio audience who then voted on which woman would be awarded queenly status for the day and given a great prize--often a new washing machine or other household appliance that would make their life easier.  (It's actually pretty crazy to read about the show.  You can check it out at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_for_a_Day.)   After taking over for my sister Suzanne for a few days while she took her oldest child to college, I have a much greater appreciation for motherhood, and I would like to award all of you the status of "Queen," not for a day, but for a lifetime!

The child starting college is my nephew TJ, and he is off to study communications at NYU.  The typical stress and other emotions associated with bringing your first child to college were exacerbated by the threat of Hurricane Irene overpowering NYC.  Official move-in day for the kids was changed from Sunday to Monday in light of the storm, but my sister, brother-in-law and TJ headed to NY on Friday as originally planned.   What a strange experience it must have been to be in NY with public transportation shut down and most stores and restaurants closed since the bulk of the population can't get to work without access to subways, buses and trains.  On Sunday elevators were ordered to be shut down as well, leaving the fam stranded in their 12th floor hotel room until the all-clear sign was given.  (Tim actually ventured down the stairs to forage for some breakfast for them, trudging back up the 12 flights with NYC bagels in hand.)   With the storm being more or less a non-event in NYC, TJ is now ensconced in his dorm room and is set to take on college life.  Hopefully my sister is ready as well!

Back at the ranch (OK, it's actually a beautiful home in a lovely subdivision), I have been tending to their 16 year old daughter Elizabeth and their nine year old son Andrew.  As far as I can tell, being a parent these days consists primarily of driving kids places or waiting to drive them places.  How a mother finds time to exercise or get work done (especially on the week-ends) is totally beyond me.  Elizabeth started school on Monday, but this didn't mean that she had a light schedule over the week-end.  School of Rock, Drama Club, SAT prep and a visit from the boyfriend took up most of her time.  (I broke the "read on" rule in my sister's instructions and only realized on Sunday that she was actually supposed to be reading "1984" for school.  My bad.)   Drew's week-end included a sleepover (at a friend's house--way too much for this novice caretaker to handle!), a play date and a baseball practice.  His schedule got in full swing on Monday, though, when he had school plus a baseball game followed by football practice.  (He hit a grand slam in the baseball game--his first kid pitch game ever--and it was pretty darn exciting.) 

After four days (and nights!) of babysitting, I am thoroughly exhausted and a bit wired.  I had no sandwich meat for Drew for his lunch so today he is a vegetarian.  (I figure a kid can survive for one day on fruit, yogurt, a slice of cheese and chips, can't he?)  For some reason, the guard house no longer had my name on the "approved visitor" list this morning when I came back from my school drop off.  I have to admit that after telling the guards in a firm voice (OK, there might have been some yelling involved)  that I had been taking care of the kids for four days and my name had been on the list and it was certainly still there, I got in my car and drove the wrong way down the road so that I didn't have to crash through the gate to get back to their house.  My car is now hidden in their garage and I am envisioning helicopters circling the development looking for this rogue babysitter.   If you don't hear from me for awhile, you'll know that I am in the custody of rent-a-cops, waiting for my lawyer to come and bail me out.   Somehow I don't think that studio audience would choose me from the line-up as queen for the day, so I will happily relinquish the role to my sister upon her return. 

Family Memories

Whew--it is a hot one today! This summer has been the warmest that I remember. Usually there are very few days when we miss having air conditioning, but there have been more than a few this year. I am hiding out in the basement (aka the "man cave"), where it must be 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the house.

Lying here I am remembering one summer in the Berkshires when it was incredibly warm. We hadn't been married long and were there for a week or two with Scott. We had built the screened in porch to thwart the bugs but hadn't furnished it yet. When the heat set in, we pulled the TV out to the screened in porch with some cushions from patio furniture and continued our movie fest. I think it was Woody Allen that year, one of my least favorites since I just don't get his humor. (No matter how long I lived in NY, I was never going to become a New Yorker.) I think back much more fondly on other summer movie fests, particularly the Godfather series. We were creative with that one, going from the Godfather triology to other mafia movies (Analyze This and The Freshman come to mind). I now think that we might be driven to commit murder ourselves if we were cooped up in that small house for an extended period of time--maybe we'll have the opportunity to find out on our journeys to and from Florida. TTFN.