A lot of people have happy places.
My sister’s happy place is a city where she spent a lot of time visiting when growing up: Tampa, Florida.
A friend loves nesting at home on the couch with her deaf cat.
Another friend tells me her happy place is working as a dental hygienist and that she intends to be the longest practicing one ever.
A friend of mine for decades tells me her happy place is wherever she is when learning something new.
A Facebook acquaintance frequently posts inspirational and funny things on her Facebook page – I bet if you asked her she’d site Facebook as one of her happy places. Who doesn’t feel happy after reading her latest post:
Things I’m Super Good At:
Forgetting someone’s name 10 seconds after they tell me.
Buying produce…and throwing it out two weeks later.
Digging through the trash for the food box I just tossed because I already forgot the directions.
Making plans. And then immediately regretting making plans.
Calculating how much sleep l’ll get if I can just “fall asleeep right now.”
My happy place:
Great American Ball Park, Cincinnati, Ohio.
It simply connects me to my hometown roots.
I love all the eclectic quotes written about the game – many which are posted throughout Great American Ball Park.
I love the game no matter who I am with.
But most of all, l love going to the games with my husband.
He played baseball for years as a pitcher – and he teaches me a little bit more every game that we attend together.
For instance, I just learned that if the batter tips the ball on the third strike and the catcher catches it, it’s an out. If he doesn’t catch the ball, there is no strike three called and he’s not out.
I now know what ERA denotes.
I now know the significance of the speed of the pitch.
I now know that there is a electronic box on each catcher’s thigh that transmits a signal to the pitcher about which type of pitch to throw.
I still don’t understand why a starting pitcher can throw up to 100 pitches in a game, but the relief pitcher throws just a fraction of that number because is arm will get too tired. This makes no sense to me.
It doesn’t matter if it’s warm or cold.
It doesn’t matter if it’s raining or sunny.
It doesn’t even matter who the Cincinnati Reds are playing.
I am filled with anticipation every time I slide into my seat, pop on my sunglasses, put my hand on my heart and face the music’s direction as I hear the opening strains of our National Anthem.
https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=what%27s+the+national+anthem+sung+t+the+beginning+of+the+cincinnati+reds+gfames&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:128627cc,vid:fMvCZnIJJrs
The above rendition was also sung by Marlana Van Hoose on Opening Day, 2023 at the Great American Ball Park. VanHoose is an American contemporary Christian singer who has been blind since birth and has achieved fame singing the National Anthem at major professional sporting events.
I get instantly re-charged at the 7th Inning Stretch when the crowd rises from their seats in the Great American Ball Park to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” which has become the unofficial anthem of North American baseball. It was written by two men who had never attended a baseball game before writing the song: Jack Norworth and Albert Von Tilzer.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pnn1Q1uP44
The Great American Ball Park is simply my happy place.
This country is my happy place too.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor