Quality Time

Ah, Indiana.  According to the billboard on I-80/94, we missed the “Nudes-a-poppin’” festival, held in Roselawn; that was two months ago.  And next week is the annual Valparaiso Popcorn Festival; we’ll be missing that, too.  We just wanted to visit our daughter on a Saturday night.

Because parenting doesn’t come with a manual or a calendar, you don’t know when things will change abruptly.  One moment your kid’s sitting next to you on the couch watching the ballgame, and the next she’s at a tournament in Colorado or Florida.  She’s in the dugout but not playing, so you’re not there watching.  Like I said, it goes by in a flash.

For some reason, Valpo holds class on Labor Day, so Clare couldn’t come home for a long weekend.  With softball duties and fall ball looming, we either got in the car to see her or stared at family photos for the next month.  We drove.  Hence, our exposure to “nudes-a-poppin.’”

The White Sox pioneered the “turn-back-the-clock” promotion with old uniforms and whatnot during their last season at Comiskey Park in 1990, so it was only fitting we did our own version.  After dinner (NOTE: Valparaiso is an island of good restaurants amidst a sea of corn), we went back to Clare’s apartment and found the Sox game on WGN.  (NOTE: Satellite TV isn’t all it’s cracked up to be when you don’t get to choose the package.)  My goodness, we beat the Royals in KC for the second straight time.  Alexi Ramirez, in the middle of what used to be called a salary drive, hit a three-run homer in a 6-1 win.  The Sox have a shot at the second wildcard spot, though with lightning-strikes-twice sort of odds.

And just like that, the ballgame was over.  Clare walked us out to the car, so I could negotiate my way back to the interstate in fog.  We lived, to find ourselves a state and world away from where we had been just a few seconds ago.