Our stay in Tampa was slated to be the longest amount of time (9 days) we'd spend in any one city this year. The only way we could get home baseball games in both Miami and Tampa was to do the state clockwise instead of counter-clockwise, a method used by many wagon trains in the 1800's. This necessitated us spending the two extra days in Tampa. It's all a math thing.
Saturday, May 10, the day after we arrived in Tampa, we were off again, this time to St. Petersburg, home of the American League Tampa Rays. Parking downtown well before that night's game, we walked the town, seeing the sites and getting our exercise. We stopped in at a local watering hole where it turned out that the talkative bartender (Is there any other kind?) was from Mount Pleasant, MI, home of my senior softball buddy, Jim Erickson, and his wife Carol. As you'll recall from your "Kaye & Stuart Blog History Coffee Table Book," we visited there last year. Anyway, this guy was born in 1967, so we figured he (the bartender) probably had Carol as an English teacher somewhere along the way ... which was really confusing because Carol's life profession was that of a plumber ... whatever.
We've found out that we've been doing this "parking" thing for baseball games backwards. For the game in Houston, we parked for FREE at Diedre's yoga studio; in Miami for the Marlins game, we parked in Little Havana, also for FREE. And now in St. Petersburg, we were also parking on the street FREE for the Rays game. So, after 3 major leagues games this spring, the only time we've paid for professional baseball parking was at the New Orleans Zephyrs MINOR-LEAGUE game ($5). Go figure. Of course, we paid $9 a beer at the major league parks, yet just $1 a beer at the Zephyrs game, soooooooo ... you win some, you lose some, ... and some are rained out.
I was apprehensive about this game, or at least the stadium. I had not heard good things about it, so I figured it would be mostly empty. But I was so wrong. The parking lot was full of a huge number of tailgaters, just like at a Minnesota Vikings' game. And virtually everybody was playing that beanbag game. The evening felt quite electric already.
The stadium was almost a dead ringer for the Minneapolis Metrodome, and that is certainly no compliment. Of the 19 current major league ballparks we've been to, it's easily the crummiest one so far, and that's using "crummiest" in the nicest possible way. Same dull white ceiling, same bomb-shelter concession hallways. Of course, there's two less World Series Championships there, so that puts Tampa behind the Metrodome in stadium rankings.
(DK here - that's not poor photography - the AstroTurf is really in that bad of shape. Just amazing after all the great parks we've been in that Tampa's was in such rough shape.)
On the plus side, they did have the wonderful "Ted Williams Hitters' Museum," magically transplanted from Hernando, FL, after the mighty slugger's death. Ted had always been my 2nd favorite baseball hero following Hank Aaron. So in the middle of the game, I left my scorekeeping bride(scorekeeping keeps her from nodding off) in our first row, 2nd deck seats, and spent two innings touring Teddy Ballgame's museum. It was just an appetizer for me before seeing the real Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, NY, in August. That's when the fun really begins.
We're still having trouble deciphering the purpose of Tampa's give-away item that night: "DeeJay Kitty" hats. Apparently the You-Tube video of this cat spinning records has grabbed Tampa and allowed 30,000 allegedly "adult" people to wander the stadium wearing these idiotic hats suitable for a cool northern night. It was all-around "weird."
We played the Cleveland Indians on our night. How unfair is it that, although it was just last summer when we cheered mightily for the Indians in Cleveland as they won a 10-inning thriller on a walk-off home run, so now did we have to cheer AGAINST the Tribe as we, as always, support the local team, thus avoiding any fistfights with local inebriated die-hards (I think this sentence started out as a question ... I'll have to check on it and get back to you)?
Tampa won 7-1 as three pitchers combined on a wonderful 3-hitter. The Rays used a pitcher at the end named "Grant Balfour" (Ball Four?). That's a weird name, especially for a pitcher. You think a few people have mentioned it to him while he's been plying his life's work? Of course, it all evens out. The Indians first-baseman was named "Steve Swisher" as in "Swish! He strikes out!" So when Balfour faced Swisher, who could tell what was going to happen ... a strikeout or a walk? Perhaps the end of life as we know it? Makes you think ... or not. Either way, this made our (home team) record this year 3-1. The other score you may be interested in for us: Theatre Performances Attended-6, Baseball Games-4.
Diedre's big sister, Goldy, lives in Tampa with her jovial husband Mac, a retired U.S. Marine Lieutenant Colonel ... again, is any Marine ever really "retired"? They treated us to a sumptuous Mothers' Day brunch at their clubhouse. And Goldy even had time to fix (sew) two of my finer T-shirts: "I'm With Stupid" and "Spam: It's Not Just for Breakfast Anymore." This gal is a wizard with the needle and thread. When Diedre and I were first married, Goldy came to visit us for two weeks. I had been saving up all our clothing in need of repair; it filled two grocery bags easily. I figured she'd be able to finish all of it in the two weeks she was visiting. So, I gave it to her on night one of her visit. And the morning of day two, she came to me and asked, "Do you have any more sewing for me?"
Yes, she had finished it all that night, much like Rumplestiltskin spinning straw into gold ... or something like that. Amazing!
Monday, May 12, was a difficult day for Diedre. It was her first visit back to University Village, the last place in Tampa that Barty, her mom, had lived after spending 32 years in Florida. Barty had passed away in July of 2012 after an all-family reunion in Tampa just weeks earlier. This place evoked a lot of memories for us, some good, some not so good.
Once there, Diedre had the wonderful chance to meet up with some long-time friends of her Mom's: Linda Charikas and the Gentiles, Gino and Maria. The Gentiles were planning to return the next day to Michigan for good, so DK's timing couldn't have been better. They were one of the first couples that Diedre's parents met when moving to Tampa from Minneapolis after retirement in 1980. Gino and Maria had even made it all the way up north to our Hawaiian wedding in Minneapolis in 1991. I know, I know, Hawaiian wedding in Minneapolis? You had to be there.
Unfortunately, Maria's having some heart problems, so they've decided to move back to Michigan to be nearer family after 30+ years in Tampa. DK was so glad to see them one last time. They had been such incredible friends to the whole Diederich family over the years.
On Tuesday after a quick manicure (Diedre's, not mine), we headed downtown to hike the city's fun "Riverwalk." After all our years coming to visit the parents in Tampa, we had never really seen the downtown area, so that was what we were going to do that day. In addition to the 5-6 miles we would walk, we also each got our own peculiar brands of physical exercise in:
me wrestling an alligator
and DK opting for the more sane "Alligator yoga."
As we walked along the scenic river way, we enjoyed reading off the names of the obscenely large boats anchored nearby. Our favorites were "Bada Bing," "Filthy Rich," and "Little Nauti."
We also marveled at the minarets atop the Plant Museum on the campus of Tampa University.
An exciting Wednesday started off badly when DK awoke and discovered that the previous day's manicure had been badly botched. Not one to take things lying down (except for a massage, perhaps), Diedre put out a Yelp All-Points' Bulletin on the cut-rate "Nail and Welding Foundry." She demanded double her money back just for the aggravation. In the end, they agreed to clip my ingrown toe-nails and call it square.
Recovering our poise, we headed south. Our first stop was Fort Myers and a tour of the Thomas Edison/Henry Ford Winter Estates. It was here in Fort Myers that Edison worked on perfecting his incandescent light bulb. Edison had bought this land in 1885 when Fort Myers was indeed a one-horse town. He predicted great things for the city, and as was usual for Edison, he was right.
Henry Ford, as a young man, had actually worked for Edison's company as an engineer. As he became more successful, he and Edison became first student-mentor and then friends. Ford purchased the Fort Myers home next door to Edison in 1916. It provided him the opportunity to vacation with his mentor and friend. Here's a picture of me with buddy Thomas Alva Edison. As usual with these kind of pictures, the stiff one is me.
The Fords and the Edison's took a camping trip to the Everglades in 1914, and this was when Holiday Inns and Burger Kings were just a pair of bad dreams. They roughed it, at least as rough as multi-millionaires could back in those days. They had rain ... a lot of rain. Edison's son wrote the following limerick about the trip:
Consumption, pneumonia, and grippe
will be the result of this trip.
We'll all die together
from the inclement weather
and the doormat of heaven will drip.
OK, here are a few fun facts I learned about the Wizard of Menlo Park:
1. Edison is the only inventor to file a patent every year for 65 CONSECUTIVE years!
2. He had 1,093 patents. SHOW-OFF!
3. Edison liked baseball; in the late 1920's, the Philadelphia Athletics held spring training in nearby Clearwater, FL. Edison loved to go down and watch the workouts. He even took a few swings while Connie Mack, the Athletics ancient manager, played catcher.
4. He was really into botany. Orchids (which I did not know are "epiphytes" (air plants) do not require soil to grow; they need only air, decomposing matter, and rainwater. They actually grow well on mango trees, the prefect host. Edison had a ton of these cross-bred trees on his property.
5. Speaking of botany, Edison's property has a banyan tree that is considered to be the largest one in the continental U.S. It was a gift from Harvey Firestone in 1925. Amazingly, Edison, Ford, and Firestone, three giants of industry, actually worked together to find a natural source of rubber that could be grown in the U.S.
6. His favorite invention was the phonograph, although I'm not sure he'd be all that happy with rap music nowadays.
Edison's all-consuming purpose for his inventions was to transform middle class life. I think a thank-you is in order here, especially for that little electric light bulb that goes on whenever you open your refrigerator door. His quote, "The world owes nothing to any man, but every man owes something to the world," resonates, especially so today.
Our other reason for heading south on this day was to have lunch with one of Minnesota's great softball names, the legendary Monty Stuhler. I started playing ball for Monty's teams in 1971 when I was 20. He was an old man of 31 then, but he was great to be around. His teams always competed well, although he was fairly liberal when it came to his 20-man roster. The standard joke about Monty was that when a tournament director asked for Monty's roster, he'd just toss him a copy of the Minneapolis phone directory. I played ball for Monty for over 20 years. He always batted himself last, yet probably got as many clutch hits as anybody on the team. And you didn't play for Monty if you weren't willing to go out after the game and tip back a few. He was a legendary character. Most of his exploits are detailed in my first novel, "Single Elim," and the lead character of my first play, "Buzzard Ball," is named, appropriately enough, "Monty." Here I am with Monty, now a permanent resident of Cape Coral, FL, with a copy of my book. While I love what we're doing now, I often become wistful at memories of the crazy old days playing small-town softball tournaments and going out afterwards with Monty and the guys.
We made it back to the Tampa area in time to get our walk in before the rains came. We decided to hike at Lettuce Lake Park and its wonderful 3,500 feet of boardwalk. It was one of Barty's favorite places to walk with us. DK made one of our usual $5 bets, this one being that I wouldn't dare to go up to the park ranger and ask him if this was "Le-TOOS Leaf Park?" As you can tell, Diedre lost that bet.
Thursday was a day for Diedre to use Goldy's kitchen to do some serious cooking for AB1 and the following weeks in Savannah and Charleston. Then later Goldy and I dressed as "The Coral Florals" before going out to dinner with our less spectacularly clad spouses.
This was also the day my recently retired brother, Mark, and his wife Linda left on their way to Arizona where they are getting their winter residence ready for their escape from Minnesota's dread-awful winter. They'll be a 15-minute walk away from us as neighbors of ours in the lovely Terravita sub-division.
Friday we (Diedre) returned the favor to Mac and Goldy by cooking out for them at the RV park. Then the next day, our last in Tampa, we made it out to Brandon to see yet another of my wacky Carleton College classmates, Craig Kaemmer. This guy was, and is, a real character. We met his lovely bride Mary for the first time. It might have been the liquor, but I'm pretty sure I heard something about her having been born in the back of a pick-up truck at Talladega Raceway. Who knows? They then regaled us with stories about their two kids, Katy and Joseph Arthur Craig Kaemmer. A nice, new, crisp $50-bill goes to the first person who can figure out why they call him Jack.
Oh? You figured it out already? OK then, let's make it 50-cents. You gotta love that.
Being the consummate hosts, they made a wonderful dinner for us. Being an opposite-of-consummate guest, I interrupted our conversation time by asking to watch the Preakness, the second jewel of horse racing's triple crown. Craig joined me as we cheered on California Chrome to his second victory while the ladies gabbed on, probably about mopping or sweeping. And a bonus of going to the Kaemmers' was that we were finally able to decide what to do with those furshlugginer DeeJay Kitty hats we got at the Rays' game.
I'll end this screed with an appropriate quote from Neal Postman, brilliant social observer, who once wrote, "Education as we know it began with the printing press. It ended with television."
I have no idea what that means. Besides, I have to go now. There's a "Bonanza" re-run on that I've just got to see.
Later, in Savannah ...
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