Blimp Ears

Clare called yesterday afternoon wanting to know if I’d heard about the blimp that had crashed in Wisconsin while covering the US Open.  In our neck of the woods, this isn’t supposed to happen to a good luck charm.

 Clare saw her first blimp at the age of 2-1/2 on her way to her first-ever baseball game in July of 1994.  We’d thought about getting tickets to the White Sox, but new Comiskey, as it was then called, was not nearly as friendly to seniors as old Comiskey had been.  It used to be you could walk in off the 35^th Street, cross the concourse and climb four stairs, at which point you were pretty close to a nice box seat (this near-extinct experience is still possible at Wrigley Field and, I suspect, Fenway Park).  At age 76 in 1990, my parents could and did do precisely that, but the design of a ball mall is not nearly as welcoming to anyone 80-years old, as both my parents were in 1994.  So, we settled on the Kane County Cougars instead.  I think it was the Fourth of July.

I was amazed at all the different brands of bottled water that were available, and I’d never seen hotdogs shot out of an air cannon before.  Neither had my father, though he looked rather unimpressed.  The level of play was pretty good for A Ball, possibly a reflection of the Cougars having 12 players who would make the majors.  Anyone remember Mike Redmond or Felix Heredia?  I’m pretty sure Clare can still remember the Met Life blimp.  Snoopy in the sky with goggles does make an impression.

Seeing that blimp from her travel seat left a lasting impression on my daughter.  After that, she could never get enough of blimps.  We lived just off the Eisenhower Expressway at the time, and blimps would follow the Ike from where they were moored in DuPage County east into downtown, turning left at the Junction for Wrigley and right for either Soldier Field or Comiskey.  “Daddy, I have blimp ears!” she would shout on hearing a blimp approach.  I was not so endowed.

The week Clare tried out for travel ball at the start of eighth grade, a blimp flew by the house.  “That’s a good sign” I informed Clare, and indeed it was.  She made not one but two teams, and nothing has ever been the same.  We can only hope the pilot of that Wisconsin blimp recovers from his injuries.