I always knew when we were going to Grandma and Grandpa’s because there were all these hills on the freeway. You know, those hills that make room for the roads underneath them…
However, even though there were a bunch of those hills, we weren’t going to Grandpa’s. Instead, my dad was taking me and Maria somewhere else entirely.
When we got there, I was speechless. For ten seconds.
“OH, MY GOSH!”, I yell. “THAT’S ONE BIG, ROUND BUILDING!”
Don’t know what it is? I’ll give you a hint…they called it the eighth wonder of the world.
Still don’t know? Well, it’s the Astrodome.
My dad and my uncle were taking me and Maria and my cousins to a baseball game. An Astros game.
They were now, officially, the coolest people ever!
I got to eat peanuts, and cotton candy, and see people who were on TV. Not to mention participate in all the cheers going on in that noisy place. There was one I remember yelling at the top of my lungs.
A trumpet would sound and then everyone yelled, “CHARGE!”. I had no idea how ball players were supposed to charge, but I yelled it. I’m pretty sure the Boys of Summer could hear me, too.
My uncle, we’ll call him Lou on account of the great Mr. Lou Gehrig, had no idea what he started, but I soon began a love affair with baseball and the Astros. I will forever remember that day, sitting in the stands watching my team, yes, MY TEAM, win. And we stayed for the whole game.
Throughout the years, Lou took me to other sporting events, but I will always remember that first one as the best one. Not only was it a fantastic day, but he thought of me. He didn’t take me to a fancy ballet, or some trussed up tea party.
He knew me way better than that…