Is this Heaven? No, it's Iowa

Yesterday during work, a local restaurant, tweeted that Kevin Costner had just left after eating. Being a huge fan of Field of Dreams, I texted a friend that we should find him and ask him if he "wants to have a catch." I told my brother about this and he laughed that I wanted to play catch with Kevin Costner, but he knew I was serious.

Chatting with a friend last night, we somehow came to the topic of death and dying. We discussed relatives who had died, our experiences with those situations, and also if we were afraid to die. We both agreed that we were afraid to die young, but not afraid of death at an old age as it is how life ends.

The question was posed of what we would do if we knew we only had a week to live. We both agreed that we would spend as much time as possible with our families; that was the most important thing. My friend went on to answer about eating fine food and throwing caution to the wind. My only other answer was a bit less extreme:

I would want to play catch with my dad.

I'm not an overly emotional person and I haven't cried in almost nine years, but this thought brought an immediate lump to my throat (I didn't cry, for the record). Having just referenced Field of Dreams earlier in the day, all I could see is Ray and John Kinsella playing catch on that magnificent field in Iowa, both with tears in their eyes. The next few minutes were filled with images of my dad and I playing catch in our backyard: me having to run into the neighbors yard to find the ball I let get by my glove, Dad having to chase down the ball I threw over his head, the crisp pop of the ball hitting the heel of my glove, and the smiles on our faces when we'd walk inside together when it was finally too dark to see the ball.

What's my point in all of this sentimental rambling? 1) Field of Dreams is my favorite movie. I feel bad for Remember the Titans for being dropped, but the more mature, moved-away-from-home Moles will take Field of Dreams. 2) There is nothing more important to me than my family. 3) Playing catch is one of the best things ever. A friend of mine wrote an article for our college newspaper that world leaders should play catch to work out their differences. I believe that would work more times than not.

Over the next two and a half weeks, my dad will be in town twice to go see two concerts: B.B. King and Buddy Guy together, and Eric Clapton. The setting won't be our backyard for these shows, but we will definitely come inside after dark with smiles on our faces.

"Hey.....Dad? Wanna have a catch?"

"I'd like that."

[This will forever sit in my saved drafts folder. I often blog about sad and thoughtful topics, but never have I shared something that I honestly thought would make my parents cry when they read it. As much as I'd love to let them read this to know that I'd like nothing more than to spend time with them before I go, I can't put them through the thought of it.]