Homerun

Thirty-nine years ago, my husband received a phone call from a friend with some exciting news. "I just won four tickets to a Minnesota Twins game. Do you think you and your wife can join us?"

It didn't take long for my husband's reply, "Free tickets? Are you kidding? We're Dutch, sign us up!"

There was one catch, however. The date on the tickets was just a couple of days away and the game was at least a 7-hour drive one way. This was during our newly married, pre-kid days so it made perfect sense to all of us to throw a few things into the car, book a room and head down the road with minimal preparation. I have very little recollection of the game, but the thought of that trip always makes me smile. My guess is that we did silly stupid things, embarrassed ourselves in the big city and laughed until liquid squirted out of our noses. Not a bad memory.

Fast forward thirty-nine years and time for another phone call from our friend. "Hey, I just snagged four free tickets to a Twins game. Do you think it will work out for you to join us?"

Much has changed for all of us since that first phone call. My husband and I moved away from our home town. Kids are out of the house. Careers are sputtering through waning gasps. Grandchildren are waiting to be spoiled. Hair is thinning, graying or gone. Knees snap, crackle and pop. Parents are in need of caretaking. Vehicles have GPS systems and reliability.

What hasn't changed is my husband's response to free tickets. "We're Dutch, sign us up!"

This time the tickets were for a game a month away so we had time to make sure our medication pill packs, antacids supply and sunscreen were all in order. Expedia helped select a hotel with cutesy toiletry items and baby coffee pots in the room. Destinations were programmed into the navigator. A high school friend from the cities was contacted for a dinner out the night before the game. Departure times were orchestrated and parents were notified of our upcoming absence.

In the instant that our friends pulled into our driveway it was clear that our long-standing-many-years-separated friendship had not lost its zest. We were little country mice heading to the big city and the inside jokes that were funny thirty-nine years ago were just as entertaining as we rolled our way down the interstate.

That evening we met our high school friend and his wife at a nearby restaurant and hence, the storytelling began. Pranks in school, antics of questionable judgment, capers on road trips and the delights of youth were the common threads in all our tales. We laughed until we cramped our sides and agreed we were grateful for our long-suffering guardian angels. All too soon, our evening ended (due mostly to waning energy levels).

Quite frankly, I remember little of the ballgame itself. The Twins were not hitting well and I know they lost. Despite my foggy recollection of the details of the game, I smile every time I think of the trip.

Time with good friends is always a homerun.