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  • So, you wanted to go. You wanted to go to a ballgame with Dad, just like your older brother. Like you've seen him do so many times this year. Well, we finally went. You in your Phillies gear, even though the game was in Oregon. Funny how a family connection will do that sometimes - have you root for a team on the other side of a continent.

    At the game, I'm not sure what you thought - there was some baseball, some ballplayers and bases, as you noticed. We played a little catch out near the visiting team's bullpen and you watched as the players threw the ball around.

    We sat in our seats and you clapped when the others clapped. An usher gave you a foul ball, now on the shelf at home and labelled with the date of your first game. We ate a pretzel with mustard, our usual ballgame food.

    Afterwards you ran the bases. Without a little help you would have run straight past first and into right field, but a tug on your shoulders and you turned the corner and ran to second. Finally, you made it home with that smile on your face.

    It was a good day. One that I hope to remember for a long, long time. I hope that there will be some inkling of memory for you too. Maybe there will be, but maybe not.

    Time will tell.
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