Baseball tour

When a friend from California asked me if I would be interested in visiting a bunch of ballparks with him, I hesitated for only a moment. 

“Heck yeah, let’s do it!”

We researched possibilities and agreed that a seven-day trip this month to six Major League Baseball parks and the Hall of Fame organized by Jay Buckley Baseball Tours was the best way to go. Even better, our wives agreed to join us on this adventure.

The trip began with my first official guided tour of my hometown, New York City, before our bus headed to The Bronx for a Sunday night game between the Yankees and arch rival Boston Red Sox at a very loud and packed Yankee Stadium. We followed the game winners to Boston and, after a tour of the historic Massachusetts city, went to ancient but charming Fenway Park to see the home team lose to the Tampa Bay Rays on a foggy night.

We spent the following afternoon in Cooperstown, the upstate New York village that is home to the National  Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. It was my fifth visit to the site, each one of which has been more interesting than the previous. (I look forward to returning for a sixth visit one day.)

During the next three days we visited Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia for a Phillies-Chicago Cubs afternoon game — the only time all week we saw the home team win — Oriole Park at Camden Yards in Baltimore for an Orioles-Detroit Tigers night game, and Nationals Park in Washington DC for a Nationals-Miami Marlins night game that was interrupted by rain.

We had time in Baltimore to see Babe Ruth’s birthplace, Edgar Allan Poe’s house and one of his gravesites. A non-baseball highlight of the trip for me was visiting the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington. We also got to eat at the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia.

The tour came full circle in New York with a game between the Mets and Tampa Bay Rays in Flushing, Queens. Rain delayed the start of the afternoon game but did not dampen the enthusiasm of fans at Citi Field, which some people on the tour considered the best ballpark we visited during the week. I agree, but admit I may be biased! 

Six times during the week, I stretched during the seventh inning and sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” a song composed in 1908 by a couple of New York songwriters who supposedly weren’t baseball fans and didn’t attend their first game until many, many years later. I’ve been happy to attend over a hundred Major League Baseball games during my lifetime already, and look forward to visiting more ballparks in the future.

To see my pictures from Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, Citizens Bank Park, Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Nationals Park, Citi Field, and the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, check out my Instagram posts.

The Bard at the Hard Rock

He needs no introduction. Sure enough, Bob Dylan did not get one last night. Neither did his band from him, for that matter. The audience at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City, in fact, did not get a hello or any acknowledgement from The Bard as he went through his 20-song setlist in under two hours. What they did get, however, was an exhibition of American music history from a 77-year-old legend on the latest leg of his Never Ending Tour, which began 30 years ago and someday will end.

As he always does, Bob breathed new life into his old songs, including “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Blowin’ in the Wind.” He also gave new life to his 21st century songs, including four selections from his most recent album of original material, Tempest. Nearly all the songs were performed slower and softer than originally recorded, often crooned, always in his unique voice. Bob covered many of his songs like it was a poetry recital, which makes some sense from a Nobel Prize in Literature recipient whose words are considered poetic. The sound and song selection, including “Make You Feel My Love” and “Love Sick,” at times made it feel a romantic evening for many in the crowd who still can find romance in spoken words.

When the last note of “All Along the Watchtower” faded away and the Etess Arena lights went on, Bob and his band were back on the bus for their next one-night stand in Springfield, Massachusetts, leaving everyone in Atlantic City to settle for the various artifacts from his career on display at the Hard Rock. Eventually, the tour will make its way to New York City for seven shows at the Beacon Theatre and its last stop in Philadelphia. If you haven’t seen The Bard and his band in concert, don’t you dare miss it. 

Christmas rapping

A mother of two young children rolled her eyes recently when I asked if she was almost ready for Christmas.  She seemed stressed at the thought of what still needed to be done to make the holiday special for her family.  I said to her that these Christmases with her starry-eyed children should be the best of her life, and that one day she would actually miss all the craziness leading up to the holiday.

The young mother smiled, possibly thinking about her beautiful children's happy faces on Christmas morning, perhaps also about her own childhood and mom, and didn't seem stressed any longer.  It's interesting how the cycle of life plays out in front of our open eyes, open minds, and open hearts at Christmastime.

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It must have been hard for my mom to get the gifts that my brother and I wanted most when we were growing up in New York City. But she somehow always managed to do so, sometimes traveling a good distance around town get a particular toy that was on sale or hard to find.  Come Christmas morning, those gifts awaited my brother and me under the silver artificial Christmas tree that lit up the living room of our apartment every December.

Gracias, madre.

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Christmastime is one of the things I miss most about working in New York.  It truly is the most wonderful time of the year around midtown Manhattan.  While some people complained about the crowds, I found it fascinating to see people from all around the world enjoying the sights and patronizing the stores of the city in December.  I remember lots of smiles on happy faces and gloved hands holding many shopping bags on and around Fifth Avenue.

For a few years, I was lucky to be able to see part of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree from my office window.  I constantly looked over at it, I guess just to make sure it was indeed the famous tree.  A couple of times the company I worked for held a party on the night of the tree lighting ceremony, and we would go to the roof of our building and look down at the huge crowd just as the lights went on.  I never took the tree for granted, and knew that one day I would miss having it such a part of my life.  Indeed, I do.

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During the holiday season, I enjoy indulging in a glass or two, perhaps three, of egg nog.  Since I lived in the Trenton area for 18 years, however, I now hesitate to settle for anything less than the Halo Farm brand of egg nog.  To my tastebuds, it really is a cut above the others, tasting like the world's greatest milk shake.  Spice it up with a little rum and I'm ready to drive around with Santa Claus and help him deliver toys to homes with chimneys.   

Now that I don't work in New York and frequent its Latin cafes, the holidays are usually also the only time I indulge in stewed salted cod, a.k.a. "bacalao."  A sure sign of the season in our home is when the dead fish sits in a bowl filled with water on our kitchen counter for days leading up to Christmas.  When it's sufficiently softened and desalinated, my wife will season it with onions, peppers and garlic, and cook it in a light tomato sauce with potatoes, celery and Spanish olives.  It goes great on a plate with white rice and black beans, or alone in a soup bowl!  

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One of my favorite Christmas pop songs is "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses.  It was recorded in 1981, when my wife and I celebrated our first Christmas together while living in an apartment in Clifton, NJ.  I often think of those days when hearing that song -- although I try to forget my frustration with trying to put up a real Christmas tree for the last time in my life.  

Many people may not recall the Waitresses had another popular song, "I Know What Boys Like," that did not at all evoke the holidays or the spirit of giving, for that matter.

* * *

I'll always remember when we drove through the streets of Philadelphia to take the interim pastor of our Lawrence, NJ church to his home when he missed the last train from Trenton after preaching on Christmas Eve.

My wife and I and our two sons, who were 15 and 11 years old at the time, were exhausted after hosting almost two dozen family members at our Robbinsville home for Christmas Eve dinner, cleaning up while saying our good-byes, and then dashing off to church.  We couldn't, however, just leave our pastor to sit at the train station for hours or pay a king's ransom for a taxi ride home.  So, without thinking twice, we extended our night a few more hours and took him home to his family in our minivan.

We were quite tired that Christmas morning after just a handful of hours of sleep.  But, at the same time, we were energized by helping someone who traveled a long distance to remind a group of Christians about the true meaning of Christmas.