Month: August 2010

Before I start the Number 35 story, I should tell you that I’m not a sports fan.  I grew up in a female household, except for BigDaddy and he wasn’t big into sports.  We didn’t grow up with that incessant drone of monotone announcers and crowd noise on holidays and weekends.  My idea of sport was the occasional bike ride.  But, that all changed when my two boys came along.  I made an exception for baseball.

I think I’ve mentioned here before, that from a very early age, TheFirstChild would sit to watch those long baseball games on TV.  He talked so much about baseball that he made TheManoftheHouse crazy.  But not me, I was thrilled that my little guy was so passionate about something.  I became the only one who would talk baseball with him.  We cut our baseball teeth on the White Sox — he learned from them and then he taught me.  For several years I even knew the all White Sox players, their positions and their usual batting order.  And most importantly, I knew about The Big Hurt.  Frank Thomas.

Frank played first base and designated hitter for the White Sox from 1990 to 2005 — TheFirstChild’s entire childhood.  TheFirstChild idolized Big Frank – Frank was the topic of so many dinner-time conversations that he was practically a member of the family.  So, in February, when Frank retired from baseball, TheFirstChild called.

Him: Mom.  The White Sox are going to retire Frank Thomas’s number on August 29th and we have to go.

Me: We do?

Him:  Yes!  You and Me and The Big Hurt.  Remember?

Be. Still. My. Heart.  Of course.  Of course I remembered and of course we must go.  And Yesterday was the big day.

It was awesome.  We had seats in the nosebleed section, but we were behind home plate, so we didn’t care.  Many of Frank’s old teammates were in attendance.  Big Frank was presented with a few mementos and then he spoke.  Or sobbed rather, as he thanked all the people in his life that are so important to him.

I cried too.  I don’t know what TheFirstChild was thinking but I was remembering all those baseball games during his childhood.  All the times I was making dinner and heard “Mom!  Frank hit a home run!” or “Mom!  Get in here!  You have to come and watch the re-play!”  All the times I’d come home from work and listen to the play-by-play of an afternoon summer game that I had missed.

I remembered the little guy who would be so excited when the White Sox acquired an exciting new prospect.  There’s nothing quite like seeing a 7-yr old boy jump out of his seat yelling “You can PutItOnThe boooaaarrrrrdddd – Yesssss!”  And the little guy who was so sad when one of his favorite players had been traded.  All the times I said “It’s only a game” to try and cheer him up after a particularly painful loss.

Frank Thomas, circa 1997 — Twins Stadium

I remembered the excitement of being at the ball park with my wide-eyed little boys, hanging out by the dugout or the team bus in hopes of getting an autographed baseball. And what an exciting moment it was to hear the euphoric college junior on the other end of the phone declare “Mom! The White Sox are going to the World Series!!!” He went to the first game of the 2005 world series all by himself because we couldn’t justify buying more than one ticket at the obscene ticket prices.  But to send him was worth every penny.  I was in England with MeMum and BigDaddy on the day of the big game and I remembered standing in an old red phone booth in the dark, late that night as he told me all about the big game. What a thrill!

The ballpark was jam-packed yesterday and the heat was intolerable.  I heard comments like “I’ve been coming to these games for 30 years and I’ve never seen anything like it.”  We waited in long lines and they ran out of parking spaces.  Yesterday’s game was a mastercard commercial writer’s dream.  Ticket Price.  Frank Thomas Bobble Head dolls for the first 10,000 fans {score!}.

And memories.  Priceless, lifetime memories.  I often wonder if Big Frank has any idea how many little boys’ lives he affected.  If he knows how much joy he provided to those who cheered him on as he broke hitting records and hit home runs.  Thank You, Thank You Big Frank.  From the bottom of my mother’s heart.

And thanks to my little boy.  Who pinched that heart when he called up and invited his mom to the baseball game.  I love, love, love you Sweetie.

XOXO,
Anna

We’ve had absolutely gorgeous weather here for the last two days.  The august heat and humidity have disappeared, so I decided a little outdoor play was in order for my friday off of work.  I called MeMum and BigDaddy and convinced them to go with me to the zoo.

We have a wonderful little children’s zoo here in northern Indiana and I haven’t been to visit since the kids were little.  Our zoo has three main attractions — an African Veldt, a Rainforest, and an Australian Adventure.  Plus a few areas with typical zoo animals that don’t really fit into those three areas.

My favorite area has always been the African area.  Jenny asked me in an e-mail today what I thought of the African area. I loved it Jenny!   It’s much nicer than it used to be and I really enjoyed myself.  There are some really interesting animals, and of course, the old standbys.

We had fun watching the little striped mongoose colony — babies pictured above.  You can’t tell by the picture, but those little guys are pretty tiny — they’re about the size of your hand.

My very favorite part of the day was watching all the kids feed lettuce to the giraffe.  Lots of giggles and excitement when that very long tongue (the picture only caught about 1/2 of his tongue!) brushed up against some little person’s hand.

I was especially excited to see the new baby giraffe, as there’s been a lot of advertisement about it since his (her?) arrival.  She(he)’s adorable!

Gotta love those classic stripes.

We skipped the rainforest, thinking we might not be able to see it all before we got too tired.  On the way to the Australian Adventure, it’s fun to stop and watch the penguins play.  It amazes me how they can survive the summer heat.

The Australian Adventure was fun for me since the animals that we saw seem to be fairly common non-zoo animals that I see on some of my Aussie friends’ blogs.  They have an aviary that you can walk through.

Another nice thing about the Australian area is that it is more open than the other areas.  There are no cages between you and the birds.  Or the kangaroos.  There are marked paths to stay on, but if a kangaroo choses to come onto the path, you can just reach out and pet him.

So, my Aussie friends, is this what it looks like when the neighborhood ‘roo decides to pay your porch a visit?

I thought the dingo display was the most interesting.  The info talks about how split Australia is on dingos — many people think they’re pests, while others value them.  It sounds a little like the struggle that we have between ranchers and environmentalists over wolves.  These dingos were born last year in Australia.

The dingo display said that it’s believed that there are only 75 pairs of pure dingos left in the world.  This pair is the only pure pair in the U.S.

After Australia, we made our way to the exit, stopping to see the giant tortoise on the way out.  This muddy old guy was fun to watch for a few minutes.  They can live up to 150 years of age.  Kind of fun to think that my great-great-great-grandchildren may someday visit this fella after I’m long gone.

So that was our fun day.  Tomorrow it’s back to work, cleaning out the garage.  Then, another play day on Sunday.  In the meantime, the bandaids are proof that I’ve quilted every night this week.

Well, the bandaid on my pinkie isn’t a quilting injury — I smashed my fingernail three months ago and it’s at that stage where it wants to rip off so I have to protect it.  Man, those things take a long time to grow out!

Have a nice weekend!
XOXO,
Anna