So, I haven’t been back over to Cream City this weekend, even though the Hops are on a homestand. Instead, I got dragged to my sister Jennifer’s oldest son’s sixth birthday party in Slinger. I was never all that close with my sister. She was already thirteen years old when her parents adopted me, and was out of the house before I turned seven. She got married as I started junior high, and missed my high school graduation to have her first baby.
I have a few good memories of her from my early childhood – I think she kind of saw me as a living doll, which meant that she was pretty attentive for a while. She started pulling away when she got her first real boyfriend, which I didn’t understand at the time. She was seventeen, I was almost six, and suddenly she wasn’t interested in dressing me up in her old clothes and doing my makeup anymore. I was kind of hurt by this at the time, and thought that I must have done something wrong. So one night I put on a sundress and some lipstick and waddled into her room just in time to see her horrible boyfriend – his name was TJ – performing some kind of convulsive erotic dance to "Macarena" by Los del Río. Needless to say, I succeeded in surprising her, but not quite in the way I had hoped. TJ said something rude, I don’t remember what, but I started crying, so Jennifer smacked him, he started shouting, she started shouting even louder, and suddenly my dad was showing him the door. They broke up the next day and Jennifer took me to see Star Trek: First Contact in the theater, which I thought was great. We got along for a while after that, but half a year later she moved to Minnesota for college and I only got to see her at Christmas. It pretty much stayed that way until she had Toby.
He’s a sweet kid, more or less. My biggest complaint is that he’s never shown that much interest in baseball. His dad, David, owns a share of the Packers, and seems to suffer under the delusion that this actually grants him some kind of control over the team’s future. He drags poor Toby along to every single shareholders meeting, even if it means letting the kid miss out on the Brewers home game that I had an extra ticket for last summer. Carlos Gomez had four hits in that game.
Not one to be easily deterred, I picked out a nice youth baseball glove and a Hank the Dog t-shirt from Sports Authority in Brookfield before heading to the party. Toby seemed to like them, which pleased me. We played a few games of pickleball at the park, hit a piñata, ate some cake, and talked about dinosaurs. It was a nice afternoon. I was even able to avoid my sister for most of it, which is probably good. I love her and everything, but I don’t look forward to explaining that I didn’t finish my first year of grad school because I got into a fight with my professor about whether or not I had discovered a wormhole into another dimension. That’s not really a conversation anyone would want to have, especially with Jennifer.
I’ll admit that part of me was tempted to tell Toby about Cream City. I didn’t, of course. But one of the hardest things about all of this has been not having anyone to talk to. Because who would believe me, really? I guess that’s why I’m posting here, even though I don’t really have anything new to report this week. It helps me feel like someone is listening.
Anyhow. I’m planning to swing by Schlitz Stadium sometime this week to catch another game. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, go Brewers!