Give Thanks...Baseball, Or The Thought Of Baseball

 Iowa ad baseball have been in the news recently. It seems the biggest of the big leagues played a game recently at the site of the 1989 classic film, Field of Dreams. When I recently saw film clips of the field, pre-game, I expected to see the small unassuming baseball diamond nestled in a corn field with the farmhouse in the background.

Well, things have changed.

And so, it seems, has everything else.

A few days ago, I watched Field of Dreams while I worked out on breaks at work. I forgot how wonderful that film is. Like many things associated with America and "Americana" today, this film might not even be made today. Things have changed since 1989. One of the main points of the film is that there was a time when things were wonderful...and they could be again. At least, that's something I got out of the film.

Watching Field of Dreams while our country has many serious issues was eye-opening. Today, it's almost as if forces are trying to deliberately destroy things that are good, things that are meaningful to people. The writers, actors, directors, and producers of this film seemed to want to make a film that highlights the good in life. And I applaud it.

I don't watch baseball on TV or attend games in person. Then again, there's a lot of things I don't watch on TV or see in person. I could watch the games, of course, but I've chosen not to. The game has turned into several games under the banner of "America's Past Time." Interesting phrase...past time. For me, the present-day product requires me to focus on things other than the game.

I'm thankful that something has existed for almost two centuries that has provided untold hours of enjoyment, enjoyment that has transformed into nostalgia and memories. It's happened to me--I played the game as a child--I watched amazing games since. Watching Field of Dreams reminded me of how great--not only the game can be--but also our country as well.

Give Thanks...Small Towns

 Another Sunday, another Sunday drive. Last week we ventured a little north and a little east and found ourselves driving through the quaint hamlet of Beaver Dam, Utah. We'd driven past it several times going from Tremonton to Logan on State Road 30.

But, you can't see the town unless you leave the road.

We're surrounded by small towns. We've visited many of them over the past several months on our little Sunday drives. There's a feeling you get when you travel along the small, two-lane roads, pass by the small-ish (mostly...) homes, see how people live in these towns. 

I grew up in a small town--it was much smaller back then. Back then, we'd have to leave to go see a movie, to pick up speciality items (think hardware store...), and the like. Now, things have completely changed. That small town isn't small anymore. When we travel through these small Northern Utah towns, I think of the kids who grow up in them. The parents...well, they probably chose to live there and they stay because it suits them. But the kids...they don't have a choice.

I've met many people who have grown up in small towns. I've met them because they left those towns and moved into a larger city. The opinions I heard are most likely biased because those with whom I spoke didn't like the small town life. They left. When I drive through these small towns, I wonder if the kids want to leave or are they content to stay. I'm sure there are those that hate living where they are--there are always unhappy people.

Things have changed since I was a kid (cue old man voice...). We couldn't wait until we were sixteen, had our drivers license in our velcro wallets, and had a car to get us places, movies, dances, eating out. Life at home was...in a word to a teenager...boring. Now, life at home is anything but. The entire world is available to a teenager. Many not only don't want a license, they don't necessarily want to drive at all. The whole concept seems so foreign.

Beaver Dam is halfway between Tremonton and Logan...three places most in the wold have never heard of. I'm grateful for small towns. The people there choose a different life, tougher in some ways, but much simpler in others. They are independent, proud and humble at the same time. In many ways I envy them, envy that simplicity. Many of the people I know who left small towns because it wasn't their thing might not understand our decision to leave "civilization" for cleaner air and less traffic. I'm glad these small towns still exist. They're really special.

Americana...A Little Different, But Still Out There

 We pulled up to the diner, put the van in park. We weren't there but a minute when the young girl emerged from the building and came to the driver's side window, which I lowered. I asked for recommendations and ordered a shake, just a shake. As we waited, I gazed into the the diner, at red and white benches, formica-covered tables, and chairs unused to a year.

It was a snapshot into what life used to be, the way things once were.

In that space--at those tables--people fell in love, and hearts were broken...all over greasy food and ice cream, served in a myriad of colors and flavors. Teens met friends and parents ordered food at this singular location, a place replicated all over the country, thousands and thousands of destinations, in every city, in every state.

And it's survived for decades.

I haven't spent much time outside the United States, though I did live in Europe for a few years back in the 1980s. They can build a Pizza Hut in Copenhagen, but it's not the same. You don't have a wicked big-block 1970s muscle car pulling up, reviving the engine, and having both teenagers and the adults turn their heads in admiration or disgust (but, really admiration...). It can never be the same thing.

I don't know the history of Brigham City's Peach City, but I can imagine it's similar to that of all the other places in big cities and small towns across America. Thousands upon thousands of people consuming tons and tons of food...and the memories that endure.

We weren't allowed in the building, so we joined the other auto-bound patrons waiting for our food. I know somethings will never return to what we once considered "normal," but when all this crap has settled, I hope at least the neighborhood diner can return...to what it once was.