It was our tradition to attend baseball games on both Mother’s Day in May, and Mother’s Birthday in August. We always ate garlic fries and Kidd Valley burgers before taking our seats, and often shared a “one-size-fits-all” pepperoni pizza by the fourth inning.
Mom said she was helping me counterbalance all the extra calories by having me run up and down the stadium steps to retrieve another soda or fruit slushee for her, but if the game didn’t hold our attention, she might also decide she wanted to share a Major League Mariner Dog with me during the 7th inning stretch.
I used to joke about Mom’s “hollow leg,” and how we sojourned bi-annually to Safeco Field just so she could practice “eating her way around the concourse.”
This Sunday is Mother’s Day, and I’ll be visiting both Mom and Aunt Jo at the Kent Cemetery. If it’s sunshining, I’ll roll down the windows and use the car radio to broadcast the game. And oddly enough, that would be most fitting.
Mom often told me how Grandpa listened to the ballgames, tipped back in his chair in front of the wood cook stove in their kitchen. She vividly remembered sportcaster Leo Lassen, the announcer for the Rainers, saying, “It’s back, back, back, and it’s over the wall,” and we often mimicked him whenever one the Mariners hit a home run.
I miss Mom. I miss Aunt Jo. But for as long as I’m able, I’ll carry on our baseball game traditions. And I already checked—the cemetery will allow me to place garlic fries on both their graves. That is, if I decide to share.