Happy Birthday America!!

I love the 4^th of July in all its schmaltzy excess.  We went up to my hometown to see the fireworks, something that has become a tradition.  I remember one 4^th more so than any other.  My parents were recently separated and someone gave my mother two tickets for the annual town picnic, American Legion baseball game, and fireworks at Alumni Field in Keene.  This was a luxury that our family normally wouldn’t have been able to afford.  She let my older sister and I go which was something of an adventure since I was not even ten years old yet.  I remember feeling special as I ate a whole side of grilled chicken, I still remember how undercooked it was.  We sat in the stands for the baseball game, the first live baseball game I remember going to and being entranced by the action.  I’ve been a baseball fan ever since, baseball should be seen live to truly appreciate.  I can remember a player from Keene hitting a line drive that beaned a small kid running in front of the left field stands.  Everyone held their breath and the kid was eventually taken out on a stretcher.  The batter was obviously upset but stood back in the box and delivered a ringing hit to center field.  I remember exclaiming to my sister, “That was for the little kid!”  We stayed in the stands for the fireworks and a couple sitting behind us tried to make the night special for two young kids who must have looked a little wide eyed.  It was truly one of the most pleasant days of my childhood.  I just loved that feeling of community and is one of the reasons why I love going back to Keene so much.  Last night we returned to Alumni Field almost fifty years later (scary thought there).  The local team, the Keene Swamp Bats, were playing the British Under-23 National Team.  The Swamp Bats composed of elite college  players were putting a genuine thumping on the poor Brits, appropriate for the 4th.  The final score was 33-0; probably the same score if we tried to play them in soccer only with the Brits winning.  We saw something like 6 home runs in the one plus inning we watched.  We ended up sitting right in front of a guy I graduated from high school with.  That graduation ceremony was held on Alumni Field - some kind of symmetry at work here.  After the game the fans stormed the field to watch the fireworks.  We spread out a blanket and then my wife decided to visit the rest room.  I escorted her and then spent twenty minutes waiting in line with her.  Why don't they build twice as many female rest rooms as male?  She reached the door just as the fireworks began. The fireworks were extremely impressive and we were reminded of prior 4ths that we spent there with the kids.  We always embarrass our daughter, usually with a phone call.  When she was three years old we were at the same spot watching fireworks when she saw her favorite color and enthusiastically exclaimed, "PINK!!!".  It's hard to believe that was a quarter century ago.  Every year since then we always reminded her of that and she is usually less than pleased to be reminded of her childhood excessive worship of the color pink.  Last night my wife continued her march into the electronic age by messaging a photo of a pink fireworks to my daughter.  It was so much fun sitting in left field with a couple thousand New Hampsherites watching fireworks while young boys charged around playing army and falling down with every explosion, something I did when I was their age at the same spot.  A good night.

Alumni Field Last Night

View From Our Seats Behind Home Plate - 33-0 - Poor Brits

My Wife on Home Plate After the Game

The Female Rest Room Line - Wife Less than Pleased

Our Seats in Left Field

Pink!!!

Great Evening!

I also finished the latest excursion into the land of Shannara, Bearers of the Black Staff.  This book picks up the story of the descendants of the characters from the last book I read 500 years later.  It was a solid read but stopped in the middle of the action which will be picked up in the next book.  This is something I’ve noticed about Sci Fi/Fantasy writers.  When they start out they write huge books that tell a great story.  After they achieve success the publishers start releasing the same story told over three to five books.  In silent protest I am not buying the next book but instead descending into Pahlaniuk’s twisted world again.