Truth be known, this is where I grew up- the baseball park. It was a stone's throw from 2nd East and all of us Weavers played ball, most of us for Rotary's Bill Kringlen. On hot summer nights, I fell asleep with the sound of the baseball hitting the bat and the lights on the baseball diamond as my night light.
On a good day, I had 40 cents in my pocket and could treat myself to a red sno cone that is if I hadn't spent it already at Cowley Drug. Mom always seemed to have a pot of sloppy joes in the crock pot with cupcakes close by- I don't think she could have made if we hadn't lived so close.
The door to our little red brick house was revolving during baseball season. One of us always had a ball game. These were back in the days when kids didn't carry water bottles and team snacks- are you kidding me... " We grew up good us Weavers"- in fact, we were ball players some of us better than most, but we all could play ball.
This rickety old bridge was the gateway to our "magic world." I loved to pedal my bike to the ball park and soar across it "the other world." It was a place where dreams came true!
Today the bridge has been restored, but my memories still echo here...
This was our field, The American League- Rotary. The sides of both left and right fields were lined with shade trees- perfect for hot summer days. Mom and dad were the American League president for over 17 years. They taught we seven "how to pay it forward." Today, we all try to do the same!
The score keeping booth was where you could find my mom. She was Kringlen's official scorekeeper. This was nice for baby sister and I as we sought shelter from the nasty wind and the biting cold here...
The Dug out- When my older brother Mike had a off season, he would sing the song, "ride the pine, ride the pine. And then of course when I was the "rookie" he sang it to me. Back in the day, there were no leagues for girls so my older sister and I suited up- we joined a man's world. She faired brilliantly. Mom also wrote sports articles for the local paper and older sister was a star- headlines read, "bat girl no longer, she is here to play." It always has been tough to fill her shoes.
As our family has grown up and moved away and then returned, I love to come here to think and to remember. My brother Chris played center field here. I can still see him move on the field in a fluid motion. He was an athlete. He went on to play college ball and even threw a "shut out" against BYU. Grandma and Grandpa Weaver, avid BYU fans, proudly hung that news article on their fridge.
Yep, those were great days. I return here now to watch our own "fab five" play. Our oldest hit his first home run grand slam on "Rotary's field"- fitting don't you think? They have all known victories and defeats here--
At the end of the game(s), my feet would hit the pedals and hop a ride across the old bridge home to mom's pot of sloppy joes with my smiling red sno cone stained cheeks. "For its one, two, three strikes you're out at the old ball game!"
*Author's note- So sorry to be on this post- I was at the ball park all night making memories!
