Fields of Dreams

The last few days have been spent at my grandparents house near Cobleskill, NY.  It's a place I've visited my entire life.  Each visit is a benchmark of my past, from my earliest memories.  Some are really just memories of photos that I don't actually remember living.  They begin in a house my grandfather built on a street he has lived his entire life on.  My bedroom being upstairs on the other side of my parents room (no hallway).  My great grandmother's house just a baseball throw away and across the street.  Their yards were huge... at least in my memory.  I don't remember an end to their backyards.  It was "impossible" to hit a ball out of the yard.  We could roam freely, no limits.  Well, that's what I remember.  Now, as I drive by those houses, the yards seem remarkably normal.  The Weeping Willows are still there but the yards aren't as big.

On this trip, I realized something else.  My dreams had changed.    Life has happened.  I've grown.  I have a career.  A family.  And as I've gone down these paths, the limitless dreams, sometimes assumptions of how life would be, have evolved in my mind just like the yards I grew up playing ball on.  Some dreams, like the Weeping Willows, are still there.  They've grown over the years and endured the winters.  Some are like the boundaries of the yards.  I'm not sure if they've shrunk but they sure aren't as limitless and grand as they seemed 30 years ago.  Some, like the Shortstop Diner in Cooperstown, are just gone.  They don't exist anymore.

I also saw how those dreams have shaped me.  It's Cobleskill and Cooperstown that gave me an image of life outside a large city.  They gave me a target to aim for when CFA asked where we'd like to live.  A place that was smaller and a bit slower than the big city.  A place with fresh air, stillness.  A place where a community may still gather at "general stores".  Oh, and baseball.  I dreamed of playing at least minor league ball.

Running the bases with my daughters at the Bulls ballpark, slowing just a bit as we got to shortstop to take a look at home plate and envisioning a ground ball coming.  Or, a couple swings with a wooden bat and real baseballs during an open house.  That's how Durham has played into my early baseball dreams.  Part of me still thinks I could play the game if I put forth the effort...

A baseball, a bat, a ball diamond is still what inspires me to dream.  They still provide a moment of comfort.  Peace.  Stillness.  A place to think about what's next.  To dream about what's next.

My sport has changed.  My family has changed.  My home has changed.  My dreams have changed.  But, I can still go after them if I put forth the effort.