One of summer’s most redeeming qualities is baseball. I realize this is a statement not everyone will agree with, and I’m only sorry for those of you who don’t recognize the beauty of baseball or haven’t enjoyed it as pleasurable leisure. (You might identify more with the girls who were sitting next to us at a local game recently. Two innings of play were on the scoreboard and one team had already notched two runs. “Did the game start?” one of them asked. I sigh and shake my head.)
Summer is our family’s best opportunity to see a baseball game live at a ballpark, and I always say there’s no bad day at a ballpark, even if the team we’re there to cheer loses. I love the entire atmosphere of a baseball game in a professional (or minor league) stadium. It’s as much home to me as the town where I was raised. I can’t explain it. My husband and I are both lovers of the game and we try to take our kids at least once a year to see our favorite team, the Cubs. Living 800 miles from the stadium they call home presents a challenge, but we find a way.
Earlier this summer, we caught the team in Pittsburgh and were able to attend the game with friends. It was a fun memory, especially since the score was lopsided in our team’s favor. Because my husband has a lifetime goal of visiting every MLB stadium, we thought we’d try to squeeze in a second game (and another new-to-us stadium) this year when the Cubs came to D.C. to play the Nationals.
It’s been on our calendar for months and last week I finally bought the tickets–cheap outfield seats. We planned our day around the game, hoping to wake up early enough to drive to a train station on the outskirts of the city, ride the train into the city and see some of the D.C. sights we haven’t seen with our kids yet.
This was all according to plan. And then the rain came. The whole weekend series was affected by rain, and the closer we got to Sunday morning, the more dread and despair we felt. Seeing a ball game was looking less and less likely.
But we had already planned to go into the city, so we woke up, took our time getting ready, and by 10:30 we were walking the water-soaked streets of D.C. in search of the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. I mean, the museums are free once you get to the city, so what better way to spend time indoors than looking at collections of stuff and learning facts? (This is pretty much the only way, in my book.)
Our almost-nine-year-old had a one track mind: dinosaurs. He wanted to see all the dinosaurs. Fossils. Bones. If he could have crawled inside the mouth of a T-Rex, he probably would have done it. (He left with a souvenir brachiosaurus that clips to his backpack. The dino’s name is Broccoli.) After briefly exploring the ocean exhibits, we headed upstairs to where the dinosaurs were kept. After that, he turned his attention to mummies, and since our daughter was not at all interested in that, we split up and she and I headed to the rocks, gems and minerals. In fourth-grade, she started learning about this subject and they’re revisiting it in fifth-grade. She was awed by the diversity of specimens (so was I) and the colors were breathtaking. At one point, while reading about the Argyle Diamond Mine in Australia, an Australian man standing next to us said, “Fun fact” and then offered us a fun fact about the mine. It is the highlight of my interaction with humanity at the museum and he is the only person I would add to my “People I Would Want to Travel With” list.
As we wound our way through the exhibits, our destination was the Hope Diamond, where we’d agreed to meet the other half of our family. (“Meet me at the Hope Diamond” sounds like something Nicholas Cage would say or do. DC tourism idea: The Nic Cage Capital Experience. No stealing of The Declaration of Independence would actually take place.)
I’ve heard a lot about the Hope Diamond in my day. Probably from movies. It is brilliant and stunning and some people who were viewing it at the same time as us thought it was unimpressive. (I have another entire blog post to write on how we’ve lost our sense of awe and wonder. SMH.)
We covered most of the second floor when it was time to start thinking about lunch. In our original plan, we would have been at the ballpark by lunchtime, eating overpriced (but tasty!) food. But it was still raining and the game, we were certain, was not going to start on time. When we’re traveling, we like to try new places for meals or at the very least eat at a place we can’t eat at regularly where we live. My husband is the expert searcher of Google for restaurants, so he did that while I took my kids into the gems and minerals gift shop and told them “no” seven thousand times about buying a $10 bag of rocks to take home. (I realize I am not using the proper terminology at all, but please understand that our backyard and driveway are full of rocks. You can dig them up for free, kids!)
On our way out of the museum, we stopped at the main gift shop. We often bring home a jigsaw puzzle from our travels, so we’re always on the lookout. (Have I told you about this? I need to post a picture soon of the haul we brought in this summer.) Nothing caught our eye in the puzzle department, but the aforementioned dinosaur was a keeper as were the sparkly dolphin earrings.
Soon enough, we were back out in the rain, headed to a restaurant I can only describe as a global Panera. It’s called Cosi (accent on the “i” but I’m not fancy enough to figure out how to do that on my computer) and it was just what we needed to refuel and reset our plan for the rest of the day. We had soup and salad and more flatbread than we knew what to do with. It was wholesome nourishment, which is becoming more and more important to me. I can’t ingest much of the greasy, quick foods anymore. We rested and ate and watched people pass by in parkas and huddled under umbrellas. The city doesn’t stop for weather of any kind.
We monitored the baseball game situation and as it became less and less likely that the game was going to start soon, we decided to brave the elements for a short walk to the National Portrait Gallery. This was my museum choice for the day. I wanted to see the presidential portraits and even though I’m not a visual artist, there’s something about art that evokes feelings in me. I love it. And I don’t think I’ve been to many since the kids were born. It would be their first real visit to an art museum, too.
On the way, we passed Ford’s Theatre and that’s definitely on the list for next time. We hadn’t researched any national park sites to visit (I mean, ones that we haven’t already seen in D.C.) because we didn’t think we’d have much time in D.C. outside of the game. When we got to the gallery, we were directed to free lockers to stash our stuff, which is really the best way, if you can swing it because backpacks-plus-art=potential for disaster. I did not want to be the cause of a national incident involving artwork. (I will tell you that we did get scolded at one point because the kids touched a map trying to point out Lancaster and Dixon. I’m always so embarrassed when we have to be told to follow the rules. Thankfully, we were not asked to leave, but I am rethinking whether I can bring my kids to another art museum!)
My Instagram collage of our Illinois friends at the gallery
Everyone give it up for America’s favorite fighting Frenchman
I don’t know if I can describe to you what it was like to see portraits of all the presidents. It was educational and inspiring. But I can tell you that I was most moved by the first-floor exhibit “Unseen: Our Past in a New Light” which was in some ways shocking (in a good way) and also moving. A collection of photographs of lynchings in which the victims had been removed nearly brought me to tears as I studied the groups of people remaining in the photos. My husband and I spent a lot of time on the way home talking about this exhibit and our own growing understanding of how deep is the racial divide in our country.
Hours at the art gallery. So much to see. My eyes started to hurt and our backs were achy with all the walking and standing. Finally, we got the official word that the game had been postponed to a day later in the week, and the disappointment that had sort of been hovering all day, dropped onto me. I suddenly wanted to categorize our day as “terrible” when in fact it had been like a normal day trip–full of fun, adventure, some whining, but overall good memories.
The gift shop here didn’t offer any puzzle prospects that we liked, but we did see a puzzle we already owned, which made us wonder if the artwork from that puzzle was on display at the museum. Sure enough, it was. So, technically that counts, even though we bought it elsewhere.
We headed back to the lockers to retrieve our stuff, only to find one of the two lockers we were using wouldn’t open. Apparently it had been a problem earlier in the day, and it was no big deal to get our stuff back. We left the Portrait Gallery for the nearest train station and rode back to our car, where we made a plan for dinner. We ended up at a Potbelly for more soup and other warm comfort foods before heading home in more rain.
It’s the next day and we’re tired, and we’re probably going to lose the money we spent on the baseball tickets unless weather from Hurricane Florence cancels the game for certain. (I am not hoping for this or anything. Hurricanes are serious business.) But we spent a day in D.C. at two museums that were time well spent. There will always be more baseball.
I’m learning to be more flexible when things don’t go the way I plan. Because sometimes the adventure is waiting just outside the plan’s parameters. I’m vowing to make memories no matter what happens.
