My oldest brother, Steve, has lived his entire life with developmental disabilities. He shares a house on a street with two roommates who are similar to him. He has a good life and he's a great guy. My middle brother and I have been co-guardians for Steve for about 11 years. Jerry - my middle brother - and I go visit Steve twice a year in our collective hometown of Des Moines, Iowa.
Steve also comes to Portland, where I live, and Atlanta for his birthday and other holidays.
Jerry and I usually try to make the trip in May and October - two months where we are likely to avoid the harsh winters of the mid-west and the hot, humid summers we recall from our childhood.
I love going and walking through the memories of my childhood. Seeing how a smaller city struggles to change and stay relevant have been good perspective lessons for me as the years have ticked away.
There's usually a visit to the cemetery where our grandmother is buried. As we walk to her headstone, the names of the parents of friends from my youth surround us. Their voices and laughter randomly fill my mind as I think about a time that will never be again.
There's the trip by the old, small, humble house where we all grew and learned many of the lessons that inform us to this day. And there is baseball.
Our father was an avid fan of the one-time American Pastime. We breathed the game.
So it's only natural that when we are all together in our old home town, we go to the local game.
The team is the Iowa Cubs and they are the AAA farm team for the Chicago Cubs. The baseball is always fun and the seats are always great as there aren't usually too many people at the park.
Here's a picture from the most recent trip to see Steve near the end of May. Fun, family and baseball. What's better than that?!
