Thursday, May 14, 2009

The Halls of Fame

On a lovely autumn day some time ago, Mr. Hall made a promise to Mrs. Hall, while driving what he casually referred to as the “Cadillac Station Wagon” (aka the hearse), “Someday, I’ll bring you back here when we’re not on business time.” Recently, he made good on that promise. Rolling out early one Saturday morning, Mr. and Mrs. H. pointed the big black car east and headed towards Mecca: Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Twenty or so years had passed since Mr. Hall had been through those doors, but it was all new to Mrs. H. It took the better part of the morning just to take in the first floor, so after a brief lunch, they returned to hit the remaining exhibits with renewed vigor. The springtime air was still a little brisk, but not so uncomfortable as to keep them from enjoying a few innings at Doubleday Park, where the home team was holding its own.
Shopping, as one wag has been known to put it, “ran the gamut from A to B”; mostly costly trinkets with an undying allegiance to the Empire State. It was all Mr. H. could do to keep Mrs. H. from reminding the local shop keeps that there are other teams in the leagues as well, you know, and would it really kill them to carry perhaps some Cubs memorabilia; but after two or three proprietors misinterpreted her request as attempts at humor, Mrs. H. sulkily gave up. Stuffed clean up to the ears in trivia and chock full of history, they slid into the big black car wearily, and made their way home again.

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