take me out to the ballgame
take me out to the crowd
buy me some peanuts and crackerjack
i don't care if i never get back
let me root root root for the home team
if they don't win it's a shame
for it's one two three strikes you're out
at the old ball game!

--jack norworth--

i am lucky, i know, to have two wonderful parents. two amazing parents. they listen and share their opinions, they trust who i am and what i want to do, they have shown me unconditional love and a great acceptance throughout my lifetime.

as a child my dad and i were exceptionally close. from woody guthrie lullabies to good books, from him teaching me to pitch a perfect curveball and then teaching me to drive, he has been a steady presence in my life. there is one night that stands out, when i was exceptionally sad for no apparent reason. i was about 8, it was hot and i was overtired and up too late. and instead of talking to one of them i just sat on the stairs and cried. well he found me, made me some iced peppermint tea, and didn't ask why i was sad. just kind of let me be in it, and didn't leave me alone. that stuck. i didn't realize it at the time but i knew from then on, consciously knew, that he would have my back whenever i needed him.

as i got older we would go to the coast for the day, just him and me and our cameras, taking pictures and swilling coffee and staring at the gray or blue or vibrantly orange sky. we love old bridges, old buildings, negative space that exists in and around ruins and streams, love getting lost in the woods and the ocean.

and when i went off to school he believed in me. when i came back with my tail tucked low he believed in me. when i went on tour he believed in me. and when i went back to school he believed in me.

today was his christmas present, a trip to seattle to see the yankees play the mariners. we love the yankees, all four of us. my grandpa (his dad) grew up watching babe ruth, he grew up watching mickey mantle. we have a seat from the original stadium that we pulled out for every baseball season. i fell in love with this team during the '98 world series, with the classic yankee team of my day: pettite,jeter, brosius (an oregon native!), strawberry, knoblauch, el duque, cone, girardi, o'neill, williams, nelson. it was an amazing series. i was 13, dad and i had fallen into that rift that happens between fathers and daughters as they grow out of the tomboy phase. but baseball, baseball and the yankees, was our constant. when people these days give me grief about loving the team now, in a less than stellar era, i just tell them it's hereditary.

today we took the train up, the starlight express--another favorite of ours---and walked to safeco field, getting a hot dog along the way. we sat way up on the 1st base line, watched sebathia pitch a fantastic game, watched our bronx bombers hit pitch after pitch, smart baserunning. we laughed and screamed and talked about everything from his upcoming trip to Venezuela to my plans for graduate school. we agreed to do this every year.

i don't know if he reads this, but thanks. thanks for the songs of my past and the pitches you taught me to throw. thanks for never doubting me. thanks for today. i love you.