Six LDS Writers and A Frog

Monday, April 09, 2007

Happy Places

When I was ten years old, my family lived in Pleasant Hill, CA. On Saturdays my younger brother and I would ride our bikes to the BART train (think monorail.) We would then take BART to the Oakland Coliseum. (This was before every sports venue was named after a software or drug company.)

For about a buck we could buy bleachers tickets to A’s games. This just happened to be the Oakland A’s who won three World Series titles in a row. Reggie Jackson, Catfish Hunter, Rollie Fingers, Vida Blue, Ray Fosse, Joe Rudi, Campy Campaneris—the names still bring goose bumps to my arms.

For three hours we ate popcorn and hotdogs, soaked up the Bay Area sun, and watched some of the best baseball players of all time take the field in the gold and green uniforms. It was the best place in the world for two boys to be. It was and still is my happy place. Put me in a seat along the first base line, or even third level outfield and I completely bliss out.

When my wife and I went on our honeymoon to Monterey we bet dishes on who would win the A’s Angels games. As I worked various jobs during our early married years I listen to Dennis Eckersley and Dave Stewart shut down the opposition on the radio. Can you guess what I’m listening to as I write this blog? (Hint the A’s and White Sox are tied one all in the bottom of the fifth.)

For my wife, her happy places are the beach and Disneyland. Those are the places that bring back her childhood. The places where she could just sit for hours. I hope that everyone has a childhood place that brings back memories of a time of innocence, a time when your biggest worry was whether or not you had enough money for another hotdog. I hope I can help my own children discover those places they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.

(By the way, the Sox just went up two to one. But that’s okay, it’s not over until the very last strike.)

So what is your happy place?


At 4/10/2007 12:26 AM, Blogger Josi said...

I don't have a happy place, just a happy circumstance--being alone. As one of nine kids it didn't happen very often. I found all kinds of hiding places--in the neighbor's bushes, behind the couch, on the roof of the garage. I loved to walk and walk and walk by myself, looking in windows, seeing if there were any treasures hiding in the cracks of the sidewalks (You know, key chain rings, dead batteries, the occasional cool bottle cap). All these years later I still love that. With four kids, finding time to just be by myself is just as rare an occurance now as it was then, but the hiding places are a lot harder to find.

Go A's!!

At 4/10/2007 12:27 AM, Blogger Josi said...

I meant store windows :-) Not people's windows---just to be clear. I was a weird kid, but I wasn't THAT weird.

At 4/10/2007 12:35 PM, Blogger RobisonWells said...

My happy places would have to be back in New Mexico. Yes, I served my mission there and I love it because of the people I know, but I also love it because it's just so dang relaxed. Everything seems to move very slow--especially out on the reservations. I love it.

At 4/10/2007 10:04 PM, Blogger Marcia Mickelson said...

My happy place is anywhere with my nose stuck in a book. When I was younger, I would love to find a spot- in a closet, on my parents' bed or laying on the couch with a book. In those days, I often could read as long as I wanted. Now, it's hard to find the time with three kids. I substitute teach two days a week and I can get to my happy place while the students are at PE. 50 minutes of mostly undisturbed time to read whatever I want in the middle of the day. I can't do that at home. A very happy place.

At 4/11/2007 12:51 AM, Blogger Tristi Pinkston said...

When I was little, my two sets of grandparents lived straight through the block from each other in Logan. I'd run around the block and go see that grandma, then run around and see the other grandma. (I could have cut through the block if it hadn't been for the fenced in tennis court in the way) Logan has always meant family reunions, Thanksgiving and General Conference, and gorgeous fall colors. But then my grandma had to sell her house after my grandpa died, so there went one half of the block. When my other grandma died, her house was turned into housing for irreverent USU students who parked their cars on her lawn. Still makes me want to cry when I think about it.


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