Sunday, May 14, 2006

Editor's Note: This marks the beginning of my "GradWeek," my last week as a college student before I move out into the big wide world. As such, I will be taking time off to enjoy it, but fear not, as in the past, I've arranged for a series of guest writers to fill the void. Batting lead-off this time is my Mother, most appropriately given what day this is, and writing a most appropriate essay.

Mothers Day, 1956

Orioles at Yankees

This was a Mother’s Day doubleheader at the old Yankee Stadium. Some mothers, myself included, would welcome spending their special day at the ballpark. Many more, however, would not, though this never occurred to my father. As far back as I can remember, his idea of a perfect gift for my mother was something he had his eye on. Over the years my mother unwrapped a steady stream of typewriters, tape recorders, cameras and other gadgets that sat around at home for a few weeks until my father pronounced “I could really use that at the office”, and whisked them away.

So it was not at all surprising that for this mother’s day, my father thought a doubleheader in the Bronx against the Orioles would be a perfect gift. Off we went, my father and I with our Yankee hats – at five, he had already turned me into a lifelong fan – and my mother grappling with my 2 year old brother and all the toddler accoutrements. Perhaps the best thing from my mother’s point of view was that my father always liked to arrive an inning or two after the game started. He knew an usher who would appear at a certain gate and for $2 would lead us all down to the best unoccupied seats in his section.

From my perspective it was a great afternoon. Don Larsen pitched the first game and won, 11-2. I was thrilled with the “autographed” ball my father bought me and I also got one of my favorite souvenirs, a little paper megaphone filled with popcorn. We didn’t make it all the way through the second game, which the Yankees lost, 5-1. My mother decided she had had enough of being a good sport and would prefer to head home and make herself a mother’s day dinner. The rest of us tagged along, tired, sticky and happy.

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