Road Trip to San Jose-Friday
I’m back. I have decided to relegate most of the San Francisco Giants writing to Around the Foghorn and not my blog. If I write an opinion piece, or a personal reflection, then I will go ahead and post it here, but otherwise, I am wrestling my blog away from the Orange and Black and returning it to its earlier function, which was a place to post the random thoughts of a recovering hermit.
Annie and I went down to San Jose a weekend ago last, to take in a San Jose Giants game, and to meet many of the staff writers at Around the Foghorn. This was an event that had been on the calendar since the fourth week in February, when I was first writing for ATF. There was a time, not so very long ago, when a trip of this nature would have produced a fair amount of anxiety. It’s not that I wouldn’t-or couldn’t-enjoy it, I would.
It’s just that I would derive no enjoyment in the anticipation. I would fixate on “What-if?” components and wind up just hoping I could get through the event, and move on. And the more complex the scenario, the less I would look forward to it. Not so with this trip down to San Jose. I had arranged, weeks in advance, to rendezvous with an SJSU buddy of mine who had also worked with me at United Auto Stores.
This all took place back in the late seventies/early eighties, just prior to our moving up on the mountain. Even though Kevin had visited us up here, back in the eighties, we had lost touch with one another. When I entered his name and San Jose on Face/Book, up he came, and the rest is the result of modern technology.
I had told Kevin that Annie and I were coming down to see the SJ Giants game, and suggested that we get together for dinner, or something. I mean, I couldn’t just invite myself to his house, could I? Fortunately, I didn’t have to because he graciously invited me and Annie to not only have dinner, but to stay overnight, right at his spot.
Kevin had brought his wife, Emilia, up to the mountain, sometime around 1983, so we were already acquainted, and it was just like old times. We sat around in the late afternoon on Friday, indulging in a little red wine and catching up. Kevin, an avid fisherman, barbecued some of his recent catch, while Emilia prepared some rice, and accompanying salads, salsas, and chips.
After a leisurely dinner, Kevin and I retired to the sitting room to watch the opener of the series with the Cleveland Indians, a victory of supreme enjoyment. Annie and Emilia went for a brisk walk around the neighborhood while Kevin and I talked and watched baseball. We had shared an interest in learning Spanish while at San Jose State University, wishing to better communicate with the customers at United Auto Stores, so we had taken four consecutive, five-day-a-week classes together. We had some SJSU high times to rehash.
Saturday morning saw us continuing our dialogue, while introducing 30-year-old John into the mix. The older of the two offspring, he had come home during the night, and surfaced at a reasonable time the next morning. He was highly entertaining and we learned a little about him, including the fact that he works with autistic kids. That kind of set him apart right there.
With regret, we headed out around eleven or so, and made our way into San Jose, where we found our motel, about fifteen minutes’ walk from the stadium, and checked in. I was in charge of this detail and relished the role, after years of just assuming Annie would take care of it. These days, Annie is content to allow me to deal with the minutia of travel, while she reads People Magazine.
We had a couple of hours to chill before heading over to the stadium which was part of the plan. It was a good plan worked to perfection, as Melissa, one of the ATF editors, was waiting out front of San Jose Municipal Stadium, to greet us. She had even brought us our official Around the Foghorn tee-shirts.