The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 9

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Heading home.

Haven't had a root beer float yet so we must stop...

Bulldog Dairy Bar, somewhere in Indiana

Also, along the way, a claw car tearing up railroad ties:

...seems like this country has come full-circle.

Random observation from Randy:
Don't go down that road. No way I'm going to Akron.

Favorite signs:
The Lube: All You Can Eat Buffet
Grampa's Cheese Barn

Favorite Town Names:
Defiance, OH
Ruggles, OH

Final Tally:
Cash for Gold: 12
Shirtless Drivers: 2 (just an Indiana thing?)

And oh by the way: we did see two Grand Opening signs:
One was an insurance agency (go figure).
One was a bagel shop.


Nine states, thirty-five hundred miles, give or take.
Somehow, this sums it up: sign on the back of a truck in Ohio:
"Non-edible meat product. Not for human consumption."

Then what the hell is it?


What did we just see? A network of back roads and local folk, struggling farms and failing businesses but people determined not to give in throw what you want at us we can take it we still have our gardens and courthouses and ice cream shops and high school football games and high school sweethearts. Some of us are gone now and couldn't manage but most of us are still here, maybe just a shadow of our yester-selves some still working in the mill planting wheat pounding fenders carrying children across the parking lots some still walking hand in hand she still loves him and he still worships her and maybe they steal a kiss in the late afternoon. Maybe it's a waitress hell-bent on making sure you've had enough coffee. Maybe it's the college professor sharing his road stories travelling the U.S. on job interviews, finally found a job somewhere after two years out of work and saw the time as a blessing, he could be with his family. Maybe it's the lady who waved at us just because.

The Baeball Trip Blogs are dedicated to Shannon Jung, my niece and long-time pen pal.

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 8

Monday, July 25, 2011

Random observation from Randy:
Today is a Beatles day.

As we wind our way through hills and valleys to the Allegheny National Forest, we listen to Revolver, then Sgt. Pepper, then Magical Mystery Tour, and finally, Abbey Road. Perfect music for one of the most perfect drives on Earth. There are a couple of State Forests on the way as well. Climbing into the hills a storm blows up on us, high winds sideways rain. The elevation and the weather system combine to drop the temperature 23 degrees in about fifteen minutes. When the rain halts it's only two lane blacktop, tall pines and cool breezes.

But the Gods aren't done with us; yet another storm blows up winds rocking the car trees down driving on the left shoulder to pass wipers rocking overtime just to see ten feet in front of you. Take shelter. Sweden Valley is a nice little township and we stop for lunch at the Jiffy Pup to wait out the rain. Jiffy Pup is a hot dog stand/mini golf emporium at the bottom of the valley with a nice roofed porch, and we eat cheeseburgers and fried fish with a chocolate milk shake and watch the lightning fade out over the hills.

Hey! What's this? Why it's Granny's Motel! I have no idea what that means, but it's some kinda home for the homeless or what-not. Disenfranchised? Feeling like you don't have a friend in the whole wide world? Stay at Granny's, where you got a home.

Granny, orphan, and me. The fact that someone stole/chopped the head off the little girl's doll makes this especially pathetic. Also, is that really a girl?  More like a mutant Charlie McCarthy. There is something freakishly awful about this, but then I think that, somehow, someone found refuge here.

The forest has a history of over-hunting and over-foresting. Also: much of Pennsylvania's crude oil comes from mineral rights owned by individuals within the forest boundaries. They'll warn the campers to conserve water, respect the flora and fauna, and, oh yeah, watch out for trucks barreling down the highway. One such overloaded hulk slipped into the left lane (of an unmarked road we decided to explore), hurtled into the surrounding hillside, came back down into the road and slammed into another truck knocking them both wrong-side up. We had to turn around and go back out the way we travelled in. The other trucks weren't so lucky: they had to back out in reverse for a mile and a half.

The forest dumps out just southeast of Erie, Pa, our baseball destination for the day. The Erie Seawolves, a Double-A affiliate of the Detroit Tigers, plays here at Jerry Uht Park. You're asking, who is Jerry Uht? I know I did. He established an endowment to support the team and they named the stadium after him. But what about the mascot? His name is C. Wolf. Get it?

C. Wolf and Alex.

Again, I'm not sure why I seek out the mascots. I believe it is some perverted compulsion to challenge my fears, much like G. Gordon Liddy facing his fear of lightning by climbing a tree in the middle of a fierce electrical storm. So I pose with this heavily sedated, overgrown cartoon character. Notice the look of apprehension in my eyes.

Jerry Uht Park

Also, here's a dramatic shot of our home plate umpire calling a strike on some unfortunate minor-leaguer. Umpires want to make the big show, too.

Look, it's Enrico Pallazzo!

Favorite town name:  Shamokin, PA

Favorite sign: Stuff For Sale

Tomorrow: home.



The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 7

Sunday, July 24, 2011

The plan is to drive through six states in one day. Leaving Massachusetts, into Rhode Isalnd, across Connecticut, north of New York City, cut a diagonal across northern New Jersey and into Allentown, Pennsylvania.  You can do that sort of thing if you start in New England.

Breakfast at Margots Restaurant (no apostrophe), an old-fashioned diner in the middle of a modern strip mall. Good thing she got large billing on the sign. No air conditioning, but about 17 fans. Poached eggs on hash-browns with linguica (soft c, I learned), a spicy sausage that I'd never heard of. But it was good. Too bad the coffee was a little burnt.

It took a while, but we made it. A leisurely ride: father and daughter in their Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes walk up the drive to the First Presbyterian Church, lady in a black dress walking a black dog, men drinking coffee reading the Boston Globe or some other major paper. Weekenders driving back from the Hamptons with kayaks and bicycles strapped to the hoods causing all sorts of backups on the highways.

Our ultimate destination is Allentown, Pennsylvania, to see the Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs (that's right, they are the Iron Pigs. I don't know what that is.) Ryne Sandburg, former Cub great, is their manager. Our ride is so leisurely, in fact, that we don't arrive at the ballpark untill the fifth inning. I wanted to know what an Iron Pig was, but I was afraid to ask the locals. I decided to seek out the mascot. His name is Ferris (get it? ferrous: iron), but I couldn't find him anywhere. So I did the next best thing: I found his woman. That's right, he has a mate: Fifi. I've noticed that most minor league ballclubs provide their mascots with a female counterpart. Here is a picture of Fifi and me that some nice people took for me:

Fifi, the female Iron Pig.

She looks totally disinterested in me.

Random observation from Randy:
"She has a look as if to say, Why did I take this job?"

But there you have it. I think mascots are creepy and evil, and most of them look tranquilized.

Anyway, here's the ballpark:

Coca-Cola Ballpark in Allentown, PA.

Next stop, Erie, Pennsylvania.

Favorite Town Names:

Woonsocket, RI

Foul Rift, NJ

Southeast, NY

Random observation from Randy about Southeast:

"I think the founding fathers were tired when they named the town."

Favorite signs:

Beer Event Tomorrow!

Space Farmers Camp and Zoo

Visit the Havershaw Brick Museum

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 6

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Boston promises to be somewhat cooler, maybe only 95 for a high.

Random observation from Randy:
"I think I left my brain in a puddle in Little Italy. I'm going to put up signs in this hotel saying, 'Have you seen my brain?'"

On the way, more giant things. The Merritt-Wilkes Carhart work clothes store has a big steer out front in their yard, and he's wearing overalls:

Big steer with overalls

Favorite signs: 
Aroma Restaurant
Affordable Bankruptcy

Favorite towns:
Stormville, NY
Webatuck, NY

Since we have time, we take the scenic route through Connecticut: Homes with new age naive art wooden stars on the siding, wishing well mailboxes, wrap around porches. Boston is an easy in and easy out, at least, easier than last time all one way streets too narrow to navigate congested, claustrophobic. The only way in to Fenway park is through your wallet, cheapest seats are $55.00. But we splurged, having saved about two thousand dollars by passing up the Yankee game. Fenway is quaint, archaic, a throwback. But if people want to call Wrigley Field a dump, there's no need to consider Fenway a shrine. They're both old and decrepit. Tear them down and save the signature features. How many people have I just angered? Sorry.

The standing room area along the back wall offers a cool breeze. We do not melt like butter if we stay here.

Boston wins, 3-1. The Seattle Mariners lose their 14th straight game, which ties a franchise record.

The Green Monster at Fenway.

Outside Fenway.

Blocked-off streets adjacent to the park.

That night we camp and find dry wood. The fire lasts a while and the temperature dips to 80. The demons from the day before disappear slowly.

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 5

Friday, July 22, 2011

104 degrees in New York City

Oh I have seen things; otherworldly demon heat seeps up through the pavement vaporizing pedestrians in mid-step, vanished, Rapture -like; old Chinese man whirling, dancing for atonement yelling, "It's hot out, it's hot out;" girls in pink hair and cowboy boots like Annie Oakley on acid; possessed woman on the street corner with a toilet plunger in her hands plunging at people in the crosswalk, stabbing with the plunger between the shoulder blades like she was sucking the soul out of you; the sweat in your eyes, stinging, visions in Times Square not really what you see in the digital billboards devils appear in brilliant color; young man motionless, standing in the subway car in a t-shirt, hat and pins that all read "Free Hugs" but no one takes him up on it, no one, they see the look in his eyes, like he knows something, knows the end of days is here but I ask for my free hug as I step out of the train and he obliges and we embrace and he smiles and I tell him it's okay, it's okay, you can finally go home now and be with your family, prepare with them. This is the end of the line, the last stop. All passengers must exit.

It was indeed a hellish day in NYC as we travel back into the city over another hundred bridges. The plan is to walk the city and then see the Yankees that night. We park near Yankee Stadium (all-day parking, $35.00) and take the subway to Grand Central Station. It's already 100 degrees by 11:00am. The subway is air-conditioned and offers respite from the heat. After checking out the station we stop at the Kosher Deli for a tuna fish sandwich and Dr. Brown's Cream Soda. After lunch, we walk. Times Square, 42nd Street, Fifth Avenue.

Chrysler Building

Grand Central Station

 

Times Square

We take the subway again, farther south. Back above ground in Greenwich Village, through Soho, The Bowery, Chinatown, Little Italy. Four bottles of water are not enough to save us, Wall Street is way too far, we pass, we do not visit Ground Zero or The Explorers Club. Maybe some other, less life threatening time.

Chinatown

Yankee Stadium, The Bronx

The subway ride back to The Bronx is suffocating, Yankee fans jam the train all elbows and knees in your back the air conditioning resigns, gives up, the sweat rolling down your neck and dripping on other people's shoes. No way we go to the game. 104 degrees at game time, 120 on the playing surface, $150.00 per ticket. No thank you. Ride out, just go, just get the hell going. Dinner at the I-84 diner, the diner on crack.

Random 0bservation from Randy:

"I'm thinking we shouldn't pay $300.00 to sit in our own sweat. It isn't safe."

Favorite sign:               Greenhouse: Closed for the Summer

Favorite City Names:  Suffern, NY

                                      New City, NY

Back at the Ramada that night, the lounge is jumpin' wedding party revelers up late disco ball and a bartender looking very Tony Manero makes time with the girls. Another hell, another set of visions.

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 4

Thursday, July 21, 2011.

We ride into NYC via the George Washington Bridge. It's an $8.00 toll, but no one is manning the toll booth in our lane! A toll worker waves us through without cost. O! Luckiest of men!  On this day we will cross no less than 4 toll bridges, a small one-laner that costs a dollar to cross and three larger, more expensive bridges: The GW, the Whitestone, and the Throggs Neck Bridges. It's like they built this city on a series of islands or something.

Random observation from Randy:
"This will be a good day. My grits at breakfast were perfect."

New York City is giant tangled mass of humanity, combustion engines, bridges and noise. It is loud, boisterous, and thoroughly enticing. Engines are loud, voices are loud. It is the only place in America where I've heard this at a ballpark: "Give me three knishes."  And it has two ballparks. This will take more than one day.

Oh boy! it's 95 degrees at 11:00 am. Hydrate, ask an usher for help if you start to feel bad. Seek out areas of shade. The Mets oblige with a quick 2 hour and 11 minute game. Unfortunately, they lost to the St. Louis Cardinals after beating them three straight games. The last time we saw the Mets play, it was the longest 9 inning game in their history. This time, it's the shortest game we've ever witnessed.

More Giant Things:

The big apple in The Big Apple.

They saved the big apple from Shea Stadium when they tore it down and stuck it in front of Citi Field. Random observation from Randy: "It looks like a big tomato. It's not an apple."

After the game we took a walk into Flushing Meadows, the site of the 1964 World's Fair. It was only 97 degrees, so it was ok. I took a picture of the Unisphere, so you could see what a giant metal globe in topographical relief looks like.

Unisphere, Flushing Meadows Corona

It only took us 3 hours to get 20 miles out of town. The temperature at 6:00 pm reaches 100 degrees. A man of Eastern European descent (dissent?) took exception to my lane change and said something nasty to me after he went out of his way to pull right up next to me. "Oh yeah?" I said, "Well I don't even understand what you said, so there." I showed him.

Random observation from Randy:
"Home of the Chocolate Goat. You've probably wondered about that before, and now you know where he lives."

The highway follows the Hudson River north away from the city and into tourist towns like Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown with quaint little tourist shoppes like English Tin Tea House and Great Expectations Wine Tasting and Sales. Tourists stagger across the highway without regard to traffic and stumble into You Pay Half and Thomas' Tees and Dominic's Family Pizza.

Favorite town name: Fishkill, NY.......where we find a hotel.
Favorite sign: Air Conditioned

Tomorrow - the fabled Yankees.

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 3

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Looking for a decent diner for breakfast and we find it: Dean's Diner just outside of Blairsville, PA. Randy was happy because they had homemade pie. We knew that because their sign proudly said so. There was even an arrow to show us how to find them.

I'm not all that big on pie; both Randy and the waitress insult me and make me feel shame.

After beakfast, we roll east on 22 through Pennsylvania hill country firewood stacked mountain-high sheltered under blue tarps weighted down with old tractor tires, satellite dishes out front of the farm houses prettied up with a ring of geraniums or impatiens, feed sales and tillers, seeders and irrigation sprinklers, crumbling remnants of a Lutheran Church and the cows wallow in shallow mud holes under the only tree in the field. Houses in the valley towns are tiered in layers separated by narrow streets and lean forward impossibly holding on to their foundations.

Neil Young's On The Beach and his countrified American Stars and Bars carries us to our next campsite, Dingman, PA on the Delaware River. We are just across the way from New Jersey, and soon New York City. Today was merely a travel day; no game tonight.

Like most of the country, it is hot and getting hotter.

Favorite town names:

• Nanty Glo, PA
• Geeseyville, PA

Favorite signs:

• Worship in Charles Park: Bring Your Own Lawn Chair
• Gun Raffle Tonight
• Bean Soup Encampment

Random observation from Randy:
"Lost Creek, 9 miles. If we find it, do I get a prize?"

Next: New York City...the Mets and the Yankees.

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 2

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Shine a light in my heart, Lord Jesus!
      -sign on a barn somewhere in Ohio

There ain't no light shining on Dellroy, Ohio. Hard times have hit and the signs are everywhere. Harvestland Groceries closed and boarded up; Dellroy Pizza: building for rent. Factory windows used for target practice as the weeds overgrow the parking lot. What do people do here now? It's a picture from another era with ghosts on the front porch.

Some river towns are hanging on, but not by much. Ramshackle wood frame houses with iron railing balconies lurch above the streets with their backs to the river. Old men shoot the breeze in front of Marq's Grill and Liquors as a woman struggles to cross the street for her mail. Kittens for sale. Man laboring underneath a rusted out minivan, maybe we can get another 1,000 miles on her before we give it up. The river road ends abruptly at the Port Authority, I'm sure there's a way out of here but no, you can't go through here, you got to get up around and turn back from whence you came.

Random observation from Randy:
"Tuscarawas? I think the Indians were just messing with us."

Oh...just thought you'd like to know: passed by the Longaberger headquarters near Dresden, Ohio. They have a building that looks like a giant basket. Isn't that something? Longaberger is that company that makes you sell baskets to your friends, kinda like Avon and Tupperware, but it's ok because it's an excuse to have wine with your girlfriends. Anyways, I took a picture because I like giant things.

See, I wasn't kidding. (Ha! You work in a basket!)

Oh well, you could work here:

There's an elementary school on the other side of this Pennsylvania nuclear power plant. Swear to God.

Every trip Randy and I count signs of the apocalypse. In the past we have counted Wal Marts, women on riding mowers, and other symbols of death. This trip we count "cash for gold" signs and shirtless drivers. (Randy, in a very cynical mood, suggested we count "Grand Opening" signs. What a kook!) So far:

Cash for gold:        3
Shirtless drivers:    2

John Prine warbles plaintively about Donald and Lydia as we head towards Pittsburgh. We set up camp at Keystone State Park, some 30 miles southeast of the ballpark, and shoot into town. PNC Park is a nice park with great views overlooking downtown Pittsburgh. The Pirates outlast the Cincinnati Reds, 1-0, in a well-played ballgame with great pitching and very little else. But, that's okay.

PNC Park overlooking the city and Roberto Clemente Bridge. We walked from the parking garage to the ballpark using that bridge, which spans the Allegheny River.



After the game we head back to the campsite, trying to build a fire with damp wood and listening to raccoon squabbles in the distance.

Favorite town name: Newcomersville, Ohio

Favorite sign:  "Enjoy Licking County!"

Final random observation from Randy:

" 'Phantom Fireworks: Five miles.' Phantom Fireworks? What's the point?"

The Baseball Trip 2011 / Day 1

Monday, July 18, 2011

There are two rules on the Baseball Trip: 1) No interstate highways and 2) No chain restaurants.

Monday morning we drive to beat the rain. We cannot outrun the heat. 95 degrees and riding in pools of sweat. Indiana is corn and soy but the towns offer a welcome respite to the flatness of everything. Limestone courthouses center the towns with their well-manicured lawns and perfectly symmetrical gardens. A small boy wielding a Wagner power-sprayer in the bucket of a cherry-picker coats a silo silver - gleaming in the hot sun - for his old man who sits in the cab. Ice cream shoppes offer malts and cold drinks and cones and try our special double cheeseburger it's the best in three counties! A young man and woman share a smoke on break at the metal plant and, crushing the butts into the gravel simoultaneously, walk together as they head back in to work. Are they friends? Lovers? Will he buy her a cold one down at Johnny's Tap when their shift is over? The Palace theatre now offers dance lessons but the marquee is wonderfully, respectfully preserved in all its former glory.

Lunch in the Streamliner Restaurant, established 1939. A BLT never tasted so good.

Rochester, Indiana, courthouse; taken from The Streamliner Reastaurant.

 Listening to Blonde on Blonde-

Random observation from my friend Randy: "This is a summer album."

Also from Randy:

"Fifteen miles to the Ohio state line. Hmmm...not the route we're taking."



We do find Ohio, eventually, and it is much the same as Indiana. Time is short if we want to make Columbus by 7:00 for the Clippers game. Columbus is the Triple-A affiliate of the Cleveland Indians, and it is our first stop on the Baseball Trip. We drive headlong into a nasty storm pelting us with outsized raindrops and howling winds. Roll up the windows. We are one half hour late, but it doesn't matter; the storm has beaten us here and the game is delayed. For two hours. Soaking wet but enjoying the cool. I saw Columbus score three runs on wild pitches in one inning. I have never seen that before. You would think it would be an easy win, but no, they gave up 4 runs in the ninth to let the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Yankees tie the game. Some guy named Jared Head hit a home run in the bottom of the ninth to win it for the Clippers. The 150 people left in the stadium empty out onto barren streets at 12:15am.

Favorite signs:

• The Fish Truck Will Be Here Tomorrow
• Bud's Guns and Boots

Favorite city names:

• Bippus, IN
• Toto, IN
• Tocsin, IN

More observations from Randy:

"Want to visit the Swiss Heritage Village? Too bad, we missed it."

"Huntington, Indiana, home of the Dan Quayle Museum. Must be closet-sized."

Rolled hay outside Allentown, OH

Tomorrow, Pittsburgh. Major League.

Captain, I Can't Get No Power

A local library reported an average of 3700 visitors over the past three days. This is nearly double the amount of patrons that visit on a normal summer day. What's the deal?

Power outage!
But why the library?
Because the library has free wifi!

Honestly, you didn't think that just because we lost power on a massive scale - for such an extended period of time - that everybody decided en masse to rediscover books? No; Facebook, Twitter, dancing cats, all of our extended internet family members demand our daily attention, no matter what disaster presents itself. I admit it: that's why I'm here.

The Chicagoland area suffered severe winds produced by what is known as a bow echo storm. Bow echo describes any storm with winds powerful enough to tear the skin off your face like tar paper from a lean-to. Now that I know what it is called, I no longer am afraid. Now that I know the shape of the storm that blew my house into the stone age, I don't feel so bad. This hurricane-like storm produced straight line winds that blew through the metroplex area at 75 miles per hour, tossing trees and telephone poles into power lines, houses, automobiles, and McDonald's storefronts as easily as a parade queen tossing candy from the Rotary Club float. One stretch of road nearby lost seven utility poles. My power will not be restored for a week. Com Ed told me we were last on the list; I did not ask them why for fear of retaliation. Utility workers in disater situations respond to whining with a certain edginess bordering on mania.

Speaking of crazy: My friend Randy enjoyed his Amish Moment by sitting outside on his porch. It was one of the few times he can remember enjoying the summer scene without the constant roar of air conditioning units. It was a trade he would gladly make again. I was thinking along the same lines, but alas, my next door neighbor found himself a generator. Here's the trick-bag: If I close the windows to muffle the loud, droning, obnoxious, relentlessly mind-melting growl of the generator, I get no air flow. If I open the window, I get noise and gasoline fumes. I have not slept in 72 hours. My neighbor asked with a sheepish grin if the noise from her generator was bothering me. "No," I said, "it's not bothering me at all -  except for the odd twitch in my brain that I sometimes recognize as a prelude to murder."

I found some relief by sitting out on the front porch, but the 2nd neighbor smugly demonstating his superior survival skills is the guy right across the street from me. Only two in the whole subdivision, and I'm the meat between two pieces of generator bread. Besides, if I fell asleep on the front porch in this community the police would pick me up for vagrancy. We live in a proper town.

(Remember when people used to sleep on the fire escapes in the city on a hot summer night?
Remember that?
Neither do I. But I thought it was cool in Rear Window.)

Living in the dark is okay for a while, you know, eating dinner Little House On The Prairie style. It's an adventure. After a while, though, the ice bags and D cell batteries and grilling whatever's left in the cooler start to wear on you.

That's why I take refuge in the library. Besides, it's air-conditioned.
 I think I'll sleep here tonight.