Categories
Notes from the Kitchen

Baseball Poetry and Anniversaries

DESSERT RECIPES- Orange & Black CookiesLet’s set the record straight. I didn’t grow up in a baseballer family. Far from it, my dad would root for soccer teams and instilled the love of football in me from a young age. For reasons unknown (voracious reader, hated to go outside), I never tried out for soccer. Many years later, I found my inner sweeper while playing indoor soccer and was fearless in making sure the ball stopped with me.

Peer pressure or namely Deborah pressure most likely convinced me to try out for the girls’ softball team. Somehow the Dolphin Dazzlers let me join. While others excelled at fielding balls and smacking them straight on with the bat, I shot a blind mitt into the air as an outfielder, determined not to catch a glimpse of the ball as it careened toward my face or the space around me. I approached home plate with caution, again, aware that a fast ball could narrowly avoid hitting my arm, my hand, my face. I was what Deborah’s dad called a “go-fer,” in that I would go for any pitch. Where I shined was the dugout. I could yell and scream and root and holler. I secretly harbored hopes of being sidelined but still on the team. Athletic prowess was never in my genetic make-up but a loud voice was.

baseball poetry - bruce bochy 2010 world series parade san francisco giants

Getting married during a World Series year changes you. I’ve written about my junior high fan girl moment upon seeing rocker Steve Perry aboard a San Francisco Giants trolley during the 2010 victory parade. I passed all the people lined up in 2012 who had taken off from work to get a prime spot on the street curb, anticipating the Giants in another World Series victory parade. Heck, I jumpstarted my blog four years ago from “la vie en route” where I had chronicled the delectable morsels discovered while living my life on the go into a place to talk about food and poetry, believing they both possess an ability to pull an emotional response out of each of us. If we must all eat, let it be good food. If we must all eat, let it sometimes be the food of the soul.

Four years ago, I desired to celebrate our World Series champs with Orange & Black Cookies. And so, on this fourth anniversary of the food poet, even as I root for the Giants to sweep the Cardinals in the city by the bay, I leave you with a timeless poem, one that makes me think of the endless text messages of frustration and elation spirited back and forth between my husband and his father as I know they are both listening to Johnny Miller comment while the game plays on. In my head I hear my father-in-law read this poem aloud and all is right with the post-season world where time stops and baseballs fly into the stands of roaring fans.

Read Baseball Poetry, “Casey at the Bat” by Ernest Lawrence Thayer. 

Categories
Spirit

One year ago – a blogaversary

crowd waiting

One year ago, things looked a bit different.

After we said I do, we watched the San Francisco Giants clinch the title of World Series champs. Put differently, on a certain honeymoon and in a certain seaside town, there was a bar, multiple visits and bellowing at Phillies play-off games over foamy mugs of Sam Adams’ Oktoberfest. Before there was a Beck in my life, I thought I understood baseball. I even thought of myself as a baseball fan.

One year ago, la vie en route came back to life.

Everyone loves a fresh start. While la vie en route really started in 2006, it made sense last year to finagle it into something that culled my passions for food, poetry, art and travel into one place. It made sense to begin again.

williemays_world series parade

And this brings me back to that band of misfits who made magic.

bruce bochy 2010 world series parade

For a week before the Giants won, I wore orange and black like a badge of honor. It’s a good thing my closet is full of Austin orange and New York black. I baked a batch of Orange & Blacks – my West Coast homage to cakey East Coast Black & Whites.

orange & black cookies

The day of the big celebratory parade I checked out early for lunch and sidled my way into the throngs of people skirting the sidewalk curbs. Two kind women let me inch my way onto the square of street space in front of them. They grumbled as people who have been holding a place for hours might and I took it upon myself to try and make them smile for their courtesy and shrink myself so as not to block their incredible view.

pablo sandoval 2010 world series parade

We waited. We waited some more. Eventually around the corner came vehicles of the big-wigs including Coach Bruce Bochy.

tim lincecum 2010 world series parade

I cheered along with the people around me as the cable cars began slowly climbing forward in the ferreting the Giants players down the street.

brian wilson 2010 world series parade

But before we saw the likes of Pablo Sandoval, the Panda, before we watched Brian Wilson clad in his silver high tops leave the confines of his cable car and before Tim Lincecum casually waved from the enclosed cover of his, I saw someone who made me scream like a schoolgirl.

Out of this crowd anxiously scouring the line of cable cars waiting to parade up the street and out of the quietude of fans waiting to see and wave at their favorite player, I saw a shock of shoulder length black hair and began hearing the wail of electric guitars in my head.

steve perry 2010 world series parade

Steve Perry!!!!”

Steve Perry turned and looked straight at me as people to my left and right looked at me, a pre-teen squealing and hearing backup vocals to bear me up, a woman grown and waving her freak flag high. As he smiled and gave me a thumbs up, I yelled, “Don’t stop believing!!!”

In the throes of World Series mayhem, I left on cloud nine.

If you have read this blog over the past year, you’ve brought some joy to my life. You’ve followed the bitter and the sweet intersecting and maybe tried your hand at a recipe or two. Perhaps you’ve found a poem I’ve posted that speaks to you or been taken for a ride in travels shared. I want to give some joy back to you as you live your life en route.

Three books. Three winners.

In support of my favorite local and independent bookstore, two of the books are already well loved and one is brand new. Represented are food, poetry and art because that’s how I roll en route. So here’s where it gets fun. Leave a comment and pick one: “food, poetry or art” in your response.

Then we play ball.