Field of Dreams Come True

     My blog has been stagnant for almost a year.  So many wonderful things have happened in that time, and I have much to write and share about those experiences, but it would be very poor form to let today pass without a post.  I am, after all, the Transplanted Dad, and today is Father's Day.  While many fun and memorable experiences occurred today, for me, nothing could quite surpass what happened last Saturday.  On our calendar, it was an unassuming family event-- picture day for my son's Little League team.  A scheduling fluke meant our son didn't have a game that day, but his team needed to get dressed in their blue and white uniforms for their team and individual photos.  Less than 48 hours before picture day, the coach sent me an email, and a dream come true was in the making.  

The Dog Days Aren't Over *

     My relationship with dogs as a child could best be described as "mildly traumatic."  I was given a beagle as a birthday gift when I was hardly old enough to remember it, but the pictures tell me it did happen.  The reason I don't remember Scrappers (he ate scraps from the table!) is because his all-night barking from his doghouse bothered our neighbors.  Though we lived on an acre of wooded land, my childhood home was on a main stretch of road where cars never drove slower than 55.  We couldn't let him roam, and so we gave him to a farmer who could.  My brothers and I were upset, but we hand't had much time to form a bond with him prior to his departure.  We had indoor cats, and that was fine with me.  My pet quota was met.  Particularly after I was attacked by a stray dog on the playground in fourth grade.

Grand Slam

     On Sunday, my son walked around the house holding his baseball mitt.  He climbed on a stool to get mine, which hangs as decoration on the wall in his room, beneath his grandfather's glove.  He quietly searched the house for a suitable ball, finally deciding the one normally used for roller hockey was soft enough to play with.  I did not witness any of this.  All I saw was the culmination: a six year old standing at the back door with his arms full-- "Hey dad, want to go play catch?"