The Dugout

I got to go home this past weekend and it reminded me of a lot of things.

I should first clarify "home" for me has several meanings. Since moving to Chicago with Anna, it's home. We've been here about 5 years and I consider my house, my life, my new friends, my comfort here in the south suburbs of Chicago...home. However, I also consider my first 23 years of my life in Michigan home. The only other house I've ever lived in, the neighborhood I grew up in, the schools I attended, the church I went to, the friends I've made. All of that is "home" too.

I'm not sure what brought on this stroll down memory lane or what caused me to start thinking about what "home" means, but it started with my cousin Ross and I traveling up to Michigan this past weekend to visit our Grandpa. We don't get to see him very often in the first place, but he was recently in the hospital and is slowing down a bit, so we thought we should pay him and my Grandma a visit. My grandparents are not the subject of this post, however, it should not diminish the fact my Grandpa could use some prayer for strength.

In addition to seeing my grandparents, I was also able to see my family, stay up in my old bedroom, be with my mom on Mother's Day, see my siblings and my nephew, go to the church I grew up in, and watch a James Bond movie like the good ol' days. Like I mentioned earlier, I'm not sure why this particular weekend triggered all these thoughts. I've made several, if not hundreds, of trips up to Michigan since moving down to Chicago. Maybe it was because I wasn't with Anna. Maybe it was because I've realized life has continued to move on while I've been living in Chicago. Maybe it's because I'm realizing my Grandpa is not who he once was, and will never be the Grandpa I remember while growing up. I don't know.

Just visiting my old church I realized people I knew when I was a kid and teenager are significantly older now. Those who could walk on their own are now using walkers. There are more grey hairs on people's heads. Those who were infants or young kids are now young adults. It was a bizarre feeling to see and relive some of those memories.

At home it was nice to sit around the table I ate 98% of my meals at (2% of dinners were on tv trays on Sundays when we got Hungry Howie's pizza and watched America's Funniest Home Videos). It was great to sit and watch James Bond with my dad and Ross, something we've been doing together since I was a little kid...except Ross. He lived in Minnesota growing up so he didn't have James Bond. They watched cheesy cartoons of Paul Bunyan or something. We reminisced how we would always listen to Adventures in Odyssey while falling asleep. I looked for them but couldn't find them. I was assured they're probably around somewhere, but they were probably sold at the annual garage sale along with the rest of my belongings.

Going up to Michigan has a whole new meaning now that I have a nephew. My brother John and sister-in-law Heather have a son who just might be too cute and awesome for their own good. I offer evidence below:

This little guy is a ham. Going up to Michigan is no longer about just coming up to visit, or going to my in-law's cottage in Holland. Seeing this tank of a boy (he's 7 months by the way) is almost a necessity on our to-do list when we visit.

But all of the above is just one aspect of what I consider "home". Anna and I have established "home". We have our own house, our own neighborhood, or own church, we'll have our own kid (in about 3 months), we've set-up shop so to speak. I don't want to sound like I would move back to Michigan without thinking about it. What I...what we have going on here in Chicago would be very difficult to give up. Yes it's great to think about all the stuff I did and saw in the past. But Chicago is our home. We have our friends and relationships, and it's not a focus on what I'm missing or those I don't get to see, but it's a reflection on what I still have and what is yet to come. It makes reliving those memories and spending time with friends and family that much more special.

If you come across my Adventures in Odyssey cassette tapes I'd like them back please.

"It's hard not to be romantic about baseball". -Billie Beane, as portrayed by Brad Pitt

Sunday, April 15, 2012 marked not only my first Major League Baseball game of the 2012 season, but it was my first Tigers' game on the year as well. I try to make a point of seeing them play live whenever they come through Chicago. It's actually really nice because they have at least two or three series against the White Sox every year down here on the South side. This year is a bonus year because the Tigers are playing the Cubs at Wrigley as well. As I said before, I try to get to at least one game of every series. And that's exactly what I did this past weekend.

We had pretty nice seats for my season opener. Thank you Stub Hub for selling tickets at ridiculously low prices less than 12 hours before a game.

It was almost magical. Sitting there taking in the sights and sounds, listening to Thunderstruck being played over the loud speaker. It almost moved me to tears. Baseball is at its finest when you go see a game live, and I don't care who is playing. But it's even more special when it's the Detroit Tigers...and even more special when your spouse puts up with it.

So, we progress into the pre-game festivities...Elmo threw out the first pitch.

Morel and Ramirez are so terrible they found a couple of local boys to fill in for the day.

I should also mention at this point it was Jackie Robinson Day, so everyone wore #42 in honor of his greatness and achievements in the game of baseball. They honored Minnie Minoso before the game. He was Chicago's first African-American Major League Baseball player. He's the older one on the left in the #42 jersey.