Family Memory (XI)

Back in 1976, we had a big family vacation.  I went with my mom and sister, Papa and Grandma Haas, and my Uncle Karl’s family and we rented a cabin up in Canmore, Alberta.  Back then Canmore was a secluded place with roughly 1,500 people.  And then Calgary got the Olympics…and Alberta found shale oil.  Today Canmore is nearing 15,000 people.  The place we stayed (and where Julie and I stayed on our honeymoon) are now condos for rich people.

It was rainy today (not necessarily when I finally publish this) and since it is spring, my thoughts turn to baseball and the combination made me think back to that trip.

When I was a kid, I took my ball and glove everywhere.  You can play catch in a motel parking lot or a deserted road–like the one that ran through those cabins where we were.  To the west of them was a line of mountains (I can’t remember their names).  It made for awesome sunsets.  Those mountains would force clouds to climb up and over and that took time, so that they didn’t move fast once they were on the eastern side where we were.

So one afternoon after we’d finished sight-seeing, I convinced my grandfather to play catch with me.  Rain was expected so we weren’t going to be going anywhere else and he said yes.  He was always happy to play catch with me–basically because I was the favorite grandchild (for family members reading this–it’s true, don’t hate).   We went out and started throwing west-east with his back to the mountains as the clouds came over the mountain range.  The clouds moved so slow.

We played catch as they reached the highway–the clouds moving a couple steps of space per minute–and under those clouds, it was a downpour.  Where we stood, it was still sunny.  Every few minutes we’d move a little further to the east until the road started to bend to the north-south.  At that point we started playing catch north-south until the rains reached the edge of that road.

And then we walked inside, perfectly dry having enjoyed a nice game of catch under sunny skies.

That’s it.  No big moral, really.  Just an awesome hour with my grandfather that has stuck with me now for nearly 44 years.