My aunt and uncle just took a tour of New England. One night put them close to the college town in Maine where I was born. She called from near my hometown and I asked her if she would take me pictures of the place since I hadn’t been there in awhile. She obliged.

Family is good like that.

I bought up the fact that speaking of places never visited, her  dad – Oldold man Finn – had never been to Fenway Park. She nonchalanted:

“That’s not suprising. I’m sure there have been many parks he hasn’t been to. Like Cincinnati’s, St. Louis’, Milwaukee’s, Detroit’s…”

All parks close to home.

Not only has he never been to the parks he’s near when on Florida, but he’s never been to the parks that were but a full gas tank away from his house.

I don’t know whether or not to feel for the man or respect the man all the more because of how he put others first. An accountant, he understood firsthand the concept of Opportunity Cost. The money that could have gone to those roadtrips went instead to making sure his children had everything and that his family was able to vacation together.

It will be a blues to me if I don’t hit the midwestern baseball parks, but I now believe it is not a blues for him to have never have attended these places.

Oldold Man Finn’s started the year in Ft. Myers, Margaritaville. He spent a month in Seattle with my aunt. He’s spent the summer in Chicagoland. In two days he’ll be going to Bakersfield, CA for a month. And just after Thanksgiving he’ll be back in Ft. Myers, Margaritaville again.

If he wants to go to more ballparks, he’ll choose to go. Nothing can stop him. He knows that. He simply chooses not to go.

And that’s okay.

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